Blackbird & Countinghouse, in association with Narcoleptic Dogs Press and Coherent Comics UnIcorporated, presents WARDEN: An ASH Universe Comic (ASH property of Dave Van Domelen. Warden property of Matt Rossi and Dave Van Domelen. All Rights Reserved.) copyright 1999 by Tony Pi (pi@eyrie.org) ISSUE NUMBER 15: A Change of Heart Part Three of Change Is Good (Adult content, language and situations - Please be advised.) [Cover: A Warden-shaped hole is cut out of a postcard of New York City, and a cybernetic eye is peeking through the hole.] Have you ever played pick-up sticks? It's a game where long, colored toothpicks fall across each other in a chaotic mix. You then try to remove the sticks without disturbing any other sticks, one by one. Some sticks are buried so deep that if you try to remove them, the whole mess of sticks crashes into a new configuration. Someone has yanked the Warden stick out and Manhattan is crashing down. It has been three weeks since Warden disappeared with a man who calls himself Odin. No one knows where the vigilante is, nor what this self-styled avatar of the Allfather wants with ol' no-eyes. I had called my editor, Renny Moss, after I woke up from my coma. I filed the story, but Renny was hesitant to go ahead with it. "Coulter, you son-of-a-bitch! It's not that I don't like your story, but come on, you're talkin' Godmarket redux. Do you know what hysteria you'll stir up if I print this without any collaboration? It'd be..." Renny gropes for a word. "Ragnaroknophobia. Yeah." "Hey, I just know as well as you that Warden's gone, and Umbrae's gonna push ahead with his game plan, right? That's a story worth selling." "But I can't print this part about Odin's avatar. Not until you've got conclusive proof, or more evidence." "You think it might be a hoax?" "I just want to avoid all the repercussions if my ace reporter botches this story." "Then fix up my cybers, 'cuz I'll need'em." "Done. Just get me my story fast, before we're scooped by Newsweek." * * * * Renny did as he promised, and sprung the creds for my cybernetic repairs. And who better to fix it, than Gimble? After all, she's a friend of Hooks and Barnes, and the best street fixer in all of New York (even if she's one ugly bug). Her ability to make supertech usable by anyone, even Anchors, has made her a most valuable asset to everyone in the Poisoned Apple. She just has one rule: no weapons. That's why no one bugs the bug: her skills are too valuable to lose. She meets me at my room in the Dumont Free Clinic, where I've been bed- ridden for weeks. "Good morning, Mr. Coulter," says Gimble with her uniquely high-pitched, vibrant voice. Waving her antennae, she diagnoses my status quietly. "We'll have you fixed up in no time." Hooks watches bemusedly. Although Hooks and Barnes have both been discharged already, Hooks has glued himself to my bedside. "You're an angel," I say. I eye the strange tools she pulls out of her kit with some amusement. "Your toys remind me of some weird stuff in old Cronenberg films. I keep wondering if I'll turn into a bug too." I giggle. She sticks me in the cyber-eye with a sharp instrument, whirring and probing. "Not funny." I look into her multitude of eyes, and blurt out the question on my mind since first I saw her. "Have you always looked like this, Gimble?" She hesitates for a moment before answering. "No." "When did you, uh, change?" I ask, my reporter's curiosity coming to the fore. Gimble takes a long, thin, corkscrewed implement and inserts it into my ear. "Really, Mr. Coulter. Never ask a lady her age, her weight, or when she metamorphosed. This will hurt, but don't struggle. It'll just make it worse." She isn't kidding. My cyberear reactivates and a spectrum of noises assaults my head. "Ow." Hooks chuckles. "I've tried to get her to talk, but Gimble doesn't peach her secrets, cyboy, not even for me." "All done," says Gimble. I try my arm. "Great! You certainly work fast." I try to access the pictures and audios stored in my system, but can't. "Hey! My memory caches are gone." "Sorry, had to wipe them. They were too corrupted. We *could* have spent a month or so recovering the data before getting your systems back online...." "That's okay." I sigh. "That footage was going to make me famous. Thanks anyways, Gimble." "Anytime. I've got other business, so I've gotta scuttle. You boys behave now." She packs up her tools and leaves Hooks and me alone in the room. "So! Now that you're mobile, cyboy, howsabout helping me find that girl? You promised," says Hooks. I'd almost forgotten about that. I had promised to help Hooks find the girl of his dreams, the one he danced with the night before we were chased through Central Park. "Aren't there more important things for us to investigate, Like the whereabouts of Warden and Odin?" "Us?" says Hooks with surprise. "You and me? Partners?" I shrug. "Sure could use your talent. You'd give me access to a lot of info I can't get." "I'm flattered...but I really need to find my princess. Please." "Why is it so important that you find her now?" I ask. "I'll even pay you for it." "What with? You couldn't possibly..." With a flick of his hand he produces a diamond in front of my face. "Let me rephrase that. When do we start, and where are the rest?" "I pocketed them from my briefcase just before we all sucked vapor. I've hid the rest for princess and me. Go somewhere, make a new start. I'd be gone already iffen she was here, scan?" "I scan, I scan." I would have done it without the bribe, but it simply sweetens the deal. "Hand it over." "Not 'til she and I are nupt, mekk." My cyberear picks up footsteps approaching. "Someone's coming." Hooks pockets the diamond. "You scratch my back, I scratch yours." "A moment of your time, gentlemen?" says Jessa 'Scry' Dumont. She is not alone. "Mr. Henderson would like a word with you." There, standing with Ms. Dumont, is a young man with his face shrouded by the shadows, dressed in red, white and brown robes that scream his identity. Peregryn, elemental mage of the Academy of Super-Heroes. * * * * "There have been rumours that you two witnessed the return of Odin," begins Peregryn. There is a sombre quality to his voice that hints at wisdom beyond his age, or perhaps hubris. His eyes fix upon Hooks. "Perhaps these rumours were spread by you?" "Hey, Barnesy was there, and Cockatrice. I ain't the only mouth in town. Say, why are you so interested?" asks Hooks with painted innocence. I wonder if Peregryn knows about Hooks's power? Peregryn raises an eyebrow. "The ramifications of Avatars returning to Earth are nothing trivial. Witness the breach of the Barrier last July. There was great fear that the gods might again take interest in our world. If one avatar returns, then it may mean more are to come. In which case, it falls to me to set up Earth's first line of defense." "Why come to us now, not earlier?" presses Hooks. Peregryn shifts uneasily. Perhaps he senses that he's letting slip more than he cares to. "Rumours often remain just that. However, I had placed mystical guards on Odin's Throne as a precaution. Those wards were disrupted somehow yesterday, which makes the threat more real. I need to know everything about Odin that you remember." "He was a grizzly old man with one eye, on a white horse." I go on to recount the events of that night for Peregryn's benefit. "If my cybereye's cache were still intact, I'd even get you a picture of the Allfather." "There is another way," suggests Scry. "With your permission, of course, I could scan the image in your mind and route it to Peregryn?" I am hesitant, as are the others. Who's to say she couldn't take other thoughts from us? Control our minds like her sister did? Maybe she's already read our minds? "My thoughts are my own, and I'd like to keep it that way. Hardware and software I'll sell, but not wetware." Peregryn also seems displeased at the prospect of linking minds with Scry. "Your reputation precedes you, Miss Dumont. You are a mercenary telepath at heart. While your offer is generous, I cannot help but feel that you will take advantage of the mindlink. I've already had one unpleasant experience with an uninvited mindscan." "Oh? Tell us about that," Hooks pries. Peregryn bites his lower lip, but it doesn't help. He is bound by Hooks's power to answer, but seems accustomed to parceling out information carefully. "I aroused the suspicions of an acquaintance who used his telepathic gift...unwisely...to attempt to find out more." Hooks pushes his luck one last time. "And what would he have found out that you didn't want him to know?" No doubt Peregryn is aware of Hooks's effect on him now. "Let's just say that I have access to powers and secrets long buried. No more questions, Mr. Hooks." How very interesting, Peregryn. Maybe after this assignment, Para ought to do a special issue devoted to ferreting out those secrets, hm? Scry stares Peregryn in the face. "You should practice your interpersonal skills, Mr. Peregryn. I will not be insulted in my own place. At least I am atoning for my past sins. How about you? You shine like a beacon of pride. Proud that you have secrets, secrets that give you power. Beware those secrets, mister. They don't give you the powers of a god. I believe your interview with my patient is at an end." "So be it. Good day, gentlemen, Miss Dumont." Peregryn turns and strides out the door. "If he continues on his head-trip, he'll be headed for a mighty fall," Scry says, shaking her head. "Come on, Mr. Coulter. It's time you're discharged." * * * * Just as Scry is helping me fill out the paperwork down in the reception area, who should burst into the clinic but Barnes, bruised but in a frighteningly cheerful mood. "You guys wouldn't believe what happened!" he shouts. "You got lucky?" ventures Hooks. "No! Better! I ran into two CyberNostras who tried to skin me for pedestrian tax over in Little Italy!" "Maybe he's got a concussion and can't think straight," Hooks whispers. "I woulda gotten more beat up iffen that sleek demon red didn't show up when she did!" "'Sleek demon red'? You're not making *any* sense, Barnes," I say. "They didn't even know what hit them!" Barnes gesticulates wildly. "*I* didn't know what hit them. One moment they're beatin' on me, the next, they're 'zontal on the asphalt. Then I saw the streak o' red! There she was, gliding to a halt on silent engines, painted in crimson flames, so fast she was like a dream on speed, like a hound outta hell!" "You sure she's a she?" I ask. Barnes gives me a look of incredulity. "With those curves? Hell yeah. So she grabs them by the collar, and shouts in a low, sexy tone, 'Where's Warden? WHERE'S WARDEN?' They gabber nilch, but they were scared. You think she's Warden's better-looking sister? Heck, I'd let her shake me down anytime." Hooks blanches. "What if it's Burnout again? She's got a fetish for fire!" Scry invites herself into the discussion. "If this...Hellhound...was Burnout, I think you'd be dead now." Barnes glares at her. The two of them used to be rivals in the organlegging business, and old rivalries tend to carry over. "I think if she let the paragangers live, she must be a new vigilante, replacing Warden." She hands me a final form. "Sign here, Mr. Coulter." "Nice monniker for this new player, 'Hellhound'. Mind if I use that?" I ask. Scry shrugs. "No problem at all. Good-bye, Mr. Coulter. I hope the next time we meet it will be under more pleasant circumstances." "I'm sure you'll keep an eye on me." I wink. Another piece has been placed on the board, it seems. But by whom? * * * * "So where are we going?" asks Barnes as the three of us leave the Clinic. "Finding Hooks his lady love," I reply. "Good luck," says Barnes. "I mean, you've never seen her before, and you're never gonna see her again, Hooks. Give it up." "Have you asked anyone about her?" I say. "I tried to find anyone who knew anything about her. I've been asking around recently, but that seems to be the only night that those two made an appearance. Not even Iachex knew them, and he knows everyone. It's like she just came out of nowhere." "Just like the Hellhound?" suggests Barnes. "I mean, maybe they're the same person!" Hooks shrugs. "Could be. Anything's possible." "That'd just be too weird," I conclude. "Hey. Tell me more about the CyberNostra your princess was dancing with, Hooks. Since I'm an ex- CyberNostra myself....How wired was he?" "He had one cybereye, like yours, on the left. Not too tall, older than you. Hells, I couldn't worm the mekk either, imagine that," answers Hooks. "Funny, ain't it? When you most need your power, it morgues on ya." "Just the one cybereye? No other mods?" Hooks nodded. "Strange. Most CyberNostra are wired up more, even Initiates. Maybe he's not a slave to the Machine after all?" "Great. We're back to zil," moans Hooks. "Not necessarily. After all, if he's not CyberNostra and can afford a cybereye, he's rich. Maybe he's got something to do with Umbrae and the Otakuza." "Better and better," Hooks complains. "Now we've gotta tango with the 'Takuza?" "Well, we saw them with Warden last. What do we really know about them?" "Two died in the park," says Barnes. "But they weren't the bigshots. They weren't the sentai." Sentai: the Otakuza, I recall, are organized in groups of five or six, patterned after Japanese manga and anime conventions. Silly, yet deadly. It was a bad idea to underestimate them. "What are we supposed to do? March in there and ask'em where my beautiful girl is?" complains Hooks. "No. We're going to go see Rex Umbrae," I smile. "Uh uh, *you* are," say the two simultaneously. * * * * "This is the last time I let you talk me into anything," says Hooks, fingering his brand new press badge on his new suit. "And I don't know how you gotta holda my real name." "We all have our sources, Ross Hoekstra." Hooks cringes when I say his name. "How're you doing with the camcorder, Colin?" Barnes scratches his head. "I don't like this haircut." "No one will recognize either of you, now that you look half-decent." I lead them into the recently renovated United Nations Building, now renamed the Scott Building. An obscure play on words..."Scott" came from an old word meaning "shadow," just like "Umbrae" did. "We're here on official assignment from Para. Be on your best behavior, and act like gnats." As if they'd behave any other way in the presence of Rex Umbrae. When we are escorted into his office, I am immediately struck by the man's impressive girth and height. The Khadamite...no human naturally looks that big...greets us almost dismissively. "A ten minute interview, gentlemen. I have a metropolis to create." He walks in front of a huge panoramic window, surveying his city. "I understand. Thank you for whatever time you could spare, Mr. Umbrae. We at Para would like to congratulate you on the impressive job you've already done with the city. New businesses and old corporations expressing interest in New York City for the first time in twenty years. The renewal of the Upper East Side, now gang-free. The waterfront projects..." "Enough praise, Mr. Coulter. The press package clearly outlines my plans for a better Manhattan. Please get to the point of the interview." I gulp and cast a sideway glance at Hooks. I hope he has enough nerve to ask the questions. Hooks returns the glance, then I watch him slip masterfully into his interrogation mode. "Thank you, Mr. Umbrae, nice tie by the way." We worked hard the last three days getting him to ask these questions without sounding like a street punk, but he could still screw up. "How might you compare Manhattan to, say, Tokyo, in terms of what you envision?" "Tokyo has been and always will be a metropolis, teeming with people," replies Umbrae. "This city is a ghost town, a shadow of its former glory. I intend to repopulate it." Strike one. He isn't going to talk about the Otakuza. We had a heated debate over what questions to ask. Hooks's questions are best when blatant, but we don't want to just come out and ask. We do need to be more direct with the other questions, though, at the risk of losing our hides. "What do you think of the recent disappearance of Warden? And the emergence of Odin?" Safe questions that Para might ask. Umbrae knots his brow. "On the subject of Warden, I for one am content that his days of terrorizing of New York citizens with his bloodthirsty vigilante attitude are finally over. As for this Odin character, he is an unknown element to me. If anything, I believe he poses more of a threat than did Warden to New York. New York was the seat of his power, after all. People will not hasten to live in a city where gods again tread the earth." So, the reappearance of Odin surprises Umbrae. It was not his doing, then. "What do you know about this Hellhound?" asks Hooks. In the last couple of days, she'd been shaking down the paragangs, demanding to know one thing: where is Warden? On the off-chance that she *is* Hooks's mysterious object of affection, we had decided to ask that question. Rex Umbrae shrugs. "Another vigilante. Some think she's Burnout. Some say she's not. In either case, she threatens the peace I have established." Another dead end. "Thank you, Mr. Umbrae," says Hooks dejectedly. "All we need now is your Swiss Ba..." I quickly muffle Hooks. "Ha, ha, always the joker. Thank you for your time, Mr. Umbrae," I say. "If Colin may just take a few pictures of you and your facilities for our column...?" * * * * We are back in the East Village, trying to figure out the next step. "THAT was a waste of time," bitches Hooks. "He didn't peach a thing!" "Not entirely," I say, sipping my cappuchino. "We know he's not behind the Hellhound, using her as his own vigilante enforcer. He probably doesn't know where Warden is, and doesn't care, as long as he's gone. Odin's a totally new factor to him." "That's what I don't get," says Barnes. "Why would Odin take Warden? Why wouldn't he just, you know, kill all of us and be done with it and take back his throne?" "I suppose he could be still weak, and wanted Warden to be his agent?" That doesn't ring true to me. "No. This is a hoax. Whoever is pretending to be Odin isn't really a god. He needed us alive, because he knew who I was, and wanted me to report to Para that Odin was back." "What would he gain?" asks Hooks. "Souvenirs racket? 'I saw Odin and all I got was this frokkin' t-shirt?'" I shake my head. "No. Someone wanted to stir up trouble. 'Odin', if I may call him that, set us, Warden, Rex Umbrae, and the Otakuza up. Someone gets the 'Takuza to offer Rex a deal to get rid of Warden, but then kills a couple of them and kidnaps Warden himself." Barnes whistles. "Somebody's playing with fire." Hooks's eyes widen. "You think it's Burnout again?" "Whoever it is certainly is pulling a lot of strings," I say. "What's this got to do with my girl?" asks Hooks. "Does everything have to do with your phantom girl?" complains Barnes. "Yeah, not everything has to do with...." I am about to agree with Barnes when I realize what had been bugging me ever since this whole affair started. It seemed like I had been missing a piece of the puzzle, but it had been right in front of me all this time. Hooks's girl. "I think I know where to find your girl, Hooks. But first let me make a few calls to confirm my theory." * * * * "Gimble? You home?" says Barnes into the speakerphone. "Can we come in?" The heavy doors to Gimble's sanctuary slide open. I walk in with Barnes and Hooks. It's an impressive sight: Gimble had appropriated an old, abandoned shopping center and converted it into a suite of private workshops, filled with strange devices and amazing toys. A plague of microroaches skitters across the ceiling. The doors stay open. Gimble runs across the floor. "Strange. The doors should have closed." She waves her antennae. "Excuse me a moment, gentlemen." "What are we doing here?" asks Hooks. "You think Gimble can help track down my girl?" "Hooks," I say. "Gimble *is* your dream girl." Gimble and Hooks both freeze. "You can't be serious!" Barnes cracks up. "I am dead serious. Tell him, Gimble." "I don't know what you're talking about." "Here's how I think it must have happened. He came to you, and offered you the one thing you couldn't resist. For that you betrayed your principles. You betrayed your friends. You betrayed your city!" I accuse. "What are you talking about?" asks Hooks. "Odin. The man behind the god. A man behind the charade. It all fits, finally. Odin is a hoax, a scam, a riddle. Machine, he practically shouted it in our faces back in the park! 'Beheaded the demon prince of Erebus,' he said. What do you get when you chop off the first letter of Erebus?" "Rebus?" answers Hooks, still puzzled. "Yes!" I shout out triumphantly. "Odin is Rebus, a known Anchor. Which explains quite a few things. "An Anchor cannot be affected by Cockatrice's gaze. "An Anchor can remove Peregryn's mystical wards. "An Anchor, a powerful Anchor, can lock down a permanent metamorphosis like that of Gimble's or Peryton's, and return to Gimble her human body." Gimble remains silent, listening to what else I have to say. "That's not all. Rebus had his left eye damaged by Castor during his escape. Suppose he replaced it with a cybereye. He came to you, Gimble, because only you can make him the tools he needed to pull off his charade. He needed you to make the briefcases, to make his lightning staff, so that he can convince us that he's the real Odin. "Cover up the cybereye with an eyepatch, put on a wig and costume, mount a Sleipnir and voila! You have a false god. "That bullet that killed the Manson Haight didn't ricochet off my briefcase. Rebus as Odin was there, firing the killing shot. A ricochet couldn't be that precise. Rebus needed me alive so that Para could be used to push his lie on the masses. "And finally, Warden would have been an obstacle to Rebus. So he convinced all of us that the Otakuza could steal his powers, when his powers had been actually damped by Rebus. "Now, New York has lost its protector, because you betrayed everyone in this city for a night in flesh." I pause for dramatic effect. "You?!" exclaims Hooks. "Gimble is my dream girl?" "I don't believe it," says Barnes. Gimble flutters her wings. "You have a vivid imagination, Mr. Coulter." "Admit your guilt." "If it is as you say, and this...Rebus...engineered everything, then surely he would have me killed if I said anything, wouldn't he? He would have you killed too, Mr. Coulter. Your imagination's too dangerous for all of us." "Where's Warden?" I press. "He can still protect us. Just let us know where he is." "I don't know." "You must!" Hooks interrupts. "Gimble. If you are the girl I danced with that night, then please, let me know. Couldn't you build something that will make you look like her again?" "Don't you think that if I could build something to make me human again, I would?" responds Gimble angrily. "Do you know what it's like to have antennae? To have no toes? To molt painfully again and again? Do you crave the taste of offal? I do. I can't help it. I can't even feel the softness of skin, much less look in a mirror. "Yes, it was me that night, Hooks. I wanted to dance with you. You and Barnes are the only ones who wanted to hang around with me, listen to me. I wanted to put real arms around you, and kiss you with real lips. He came to me, and offered me the chance to become what I truly am. Flesh. "For flesh, I succumbed to his advances for a night of passion under satin sheets over my skin. For flesh, I sold out Warden. For flesh, I made him a god. And I would sell my soul again if I could forever shed this exoskeleton and be clad in true, true flesh." "I *thought* he looked kinda stumpy for a Norse god, even on horseback," blabbers Barnes. "And no wonder Hooks couldn't get anything outta the 'Cybernostra' or his dream girl...Anchored!" "What else did you do for him?" I ask. "I built him a stasis chamber, so that he could transport Warden. I don't know where Warden is. I also built him a holographic projector." "What's it for?" "Odin's going to make some appearances..." Before Gimble can complete her answer, she falls to the ground, ichor oozing out of a bullethole in her back. "Gimble!" shouts Hooks, grabbing her and moving her to the side, away from the open doors. "Congratulations, Mr. Coulter, for solving my puzzle," says an image of Odin that materializes between the open doors. He is holding a rifle pointed at the floor, it seems. He flips up his eyepatch, revealing a cybernetic eye. "Too bad for you, though, that I must now kill you all." He places the rifle down, and it disappears. Instead, he picks up a remote control device from nothingness. "You see, Odin will make important appearances all over the city tonight, only no one will know it's a hologram. Unfortunately, you will have died in a kamikaze paragang attack on Gimble's, and miss my practice at playing god." "What do you hope to achieve? Where's Warden?" "Where there are false miracles, there are Anchors. And I *so* love Anchors, especially all in one place," he says sarcastically. "As for Warden, you'll never find where I've hidden him, in the land of Nod. Goodbye, everyone. It was fun gaming with you, but I can't have you running around ruining my fun." The hologram fades, and I hear motorcycles heading straight for us. Three of them, with sidecars, loaded to the gills with explosives. No riders. "Okay, NOW we die," mutters Barnes. A streak of red on two wheels appears out of nowhere, and weaves among the remote- controlled vehicles. "HELLHOUND!" shouts Barnes in triumph. "YOU GO, GIRL!" She swerves to the right, and the last of the bikes is inexplicably drawn towards the Hellhound, smashing into an abandoned storefront and exploding in flames. Hellhound reappears amid the smoke and heads for the other two. She weaves right between them at breakneck speed, and pulls ahead like a bullet. The two bikes mysteriously collide with each other, exploding prematurely and knocking us to the ground, setting the night ablaze. We are still alive. I turn to Hooks, who is trying to revive Gimble. "Is she going to live?" Hooks, with tears in his eyes, says, "I don't know." Barnes and I fall silent. * * * * Later, at the Dumont Free Clinic, I call in my story to Renny. "Go with the whole story, Renny, now. We can't let Rebus stir up chaos by convincing everyone that Odin's back. It's all a hoax." "Hey great! I'm impressed, Coulter. You did all that and survived." "Yeah, and picked up quite a few enemies along the way." "You can come back to New Jersey now," suggests Renny. "I think your cover's blown by now." "Nah. I'll stay on. There's still a lot more to learned from the people of New York." I hang up the phone and walk back to Hooks and Barnes. Barnes is comforting Hooks, who looks so very despondent. No word yet on Gimble. I guess I'll ask for the diamond another day. ============================================================================= Next: Read Warden Annual #1 and Time Capsules Annual #1 for Warden's side of the story! Then come back here for #16 and the start of "Dead-Killing Eye!" ============================================================================= Author's Note: This concludes the 'Change is Good' storyline, which has been interesting to write. Originally, I did not intend to adopt a first person POV throughout, following Robert Coulter, but Matt Rossi had already written the first paragraph, so I extrapolated from that. What's next? Likely a chilling tale I like to call 'Dead-Killing Eye', focussing on Cockatrice and Hellhound. By the way, Matt Rossi has offered to write a few issues of Conclave of Super-Villains, so look out for those.