“I love balconies at night,” cooed Anastasia Wingus as she took in the view from that luxury apartment building overlooking the Hudson River.
An insanely voluptuous brunette with luminous blue-green eyes and a mouth painted like an inviting scarlet gash, the girl was clad in only a bikini and spike-heel shoes that made her look several inches taller than she actually was.
With her was a man of about forty years of age wearing a purple dressing robe. He was tall and dark, with features bespeaking a mixed Mediterranean-Celtic descent. He looked at the girl closely. He had had many of them, he mused to himself, but there was something different about this one.
“Glad you like it, Anastasia,” he said. “This is just one of my apartments, and I also have a mansion upstate.”
Indeed, David Miron was quite wealthy, and he often utilised that wealth to meet young girls. This one he had found on the internet, first on a DikDok social media account entitled “@anaxstaxsiax”, to which he had rather mysteriously received an invitation. From this he had messaged her and was given her even more pornographic OnlyPervs account, on which she utilised the ridiculous screen name “Asia Milan”.
“So you own a lot of stuff?” asked Anastasia. “I heard about that thing you have that used to belong to that old writer.”
“You mean the raven sculpture that belonged to Poe?” returned Miron. “Yes, I keep that here in the safe. I inherited it from my old man, who was into old books and things and collected stuff like that. Not really my kind of thing though, and I really don’t like the looks of it, to be honest.”
“Oh, but can I see it?’ queried the girl.
“Maybe later,” smiled Miron. “First, I had something else in mind.”
With this, David Miron reached out lustfully to-wards Anastasia Wingus. She smiled seductively as if she welcomed this, but it was all a ruse. As soon as Miron touched her, the knife was in her hand. It was a switchblade she had hidden in her cleavage. In a split second, Stacy Wingus had buried the blade in David Miron’s stomach.
Miron lurched backwards in pain and shock. “What the hell?” he muttered. “Why… ?”
The man then stumbled and fell. He fell over the balcony and plummeted screaming to the river thirty-eight storeys below.
Anastasia Wingus then peered over the balcony to make certain Miron was gone. He had indeed plunged under the water and not returned.
“Oh, that was so hot,” said the girl to herself along with a mad giggle, “and Father will be so pleased. I will get that raven thing out of the safe for him and he can use it to take over the world. I love balconies at night!” …
My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. I carry within my blood the vastly superior genes of the legendary Watchers of Algol, the most intellectually advanced race in all of the known galaxies, whose technology is so sophisticated it appears to be miraculous to lesser beings.
Whilst most Algolites live in elitist seclusion from the rest of the Universe, I am an operative for an organisation known as the KOSMIKOS. Assisted by the beautiful Miss Millie Drake, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star!!! …
“It really belonged to Edgar Allan Poe?” enquired Millie Drake. “The raven sculpture that got stolen from that man’s apartment?”
“Indeed so,” I affirmed. “The art piece that was taken from the safe of the wealthy playboy Mr. David Miron by an unknown intruder; an intruder who apparently also murdered him, it seems at one time was indeed the property of the American writer and poet -- and unabashed paedophile, I might add -- Edgar Allan Poe. Apparently, Poe purchased it from an antique shop during his stay in this city between the years 1844 and 1849, shortly before his own death in the latter year, hmmm?”
We were seated in our secret downtown headquarters, located as it is an a skyscraper with a golden trapezoidal rooftop, the bottom floor of which if a take-away food establishment known as The Pizza Gate, named after the ornate gateway-styled entranceway of the building.
My companion, Millie Drake, is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect, with hair of a rich chestnut hue, enchanting violet eyes, and sun kissed skin. The royal blue dress she wore only served to highlight the wonderful shape of her slender adolescent figure.
I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, velvet suit, and jungle boots. My panama hat and opera cape hung from a near by hallstand.
The chamber in which we were is filled with a mixture of computer banks, laboratory equipment, and numerous bizarre artefacts from my long and storied career; forsooth artefacts from this planet and others, artefacts from the past and from the future.
Also with us was Kit-10, our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or les that a small mechanical cat.
“So, Daniel,” said Millie, “who do you think might have killed Mr. Miron and stolen the raven sculpture, and why would they do such a thing?”
“There is no clue to the identity of the suspect,” I informed, “so that is a bit of a problem in itself. Strangely, the apartment building’s security cameras had stopped functioning for the evening. As for the stolen object, it has some value on the antique arts market, but I suspect a far darker reason for its theft; hence our interest in the case as the world’s foremost investigators of the occult and paranormal. You see, the sculpture was rumoured to have at one time been stolen from the ruins of an old Greek temple -- a temple of the goddess Minerva!”
“Minerva? Wasn’t she the ancient Greek and Roman goddess of wisdom in the arts of war?”
“Quite, my dear. In reality, of course, Minerva was one of the Olympianoids, that immensely powerful race of alien beings -- distantly related to our own Algolite species -- that came to Earth in ancient times and were worshipped as deities around the Mediterranean region.”
“So the raven sculpture has some residual kind of power from the Olympianoids?” asked Millie.
“So it appears,” I confirmed. “It has been said that it at times glows with a weirdly pulsating black and red radiance.”
“But who would think they were able to use such a power? Daniel, you don’t think it could be… ?”
“Let us not speculate before we have more facts, my dear Mills. If the person or persons who have purloined the raven sculpture are able to activate its powers, then…”
“Oh my gosh, Daniel!" suddenly cried Millie. "Look at that!"
I whirled around to see what the young lady had indicated and beheld an horror indeed. It was a large mass of pulsating black and red energy hovering several metres above the floor. Within a few seconds it had coalesced into the shape of a face; the visage as of that of a man of middle years, his features still showing a certain handsome distinction despite being marked with the signs of lifetimes of extreme unhallowed crime. His hair was long and dark, and his countenance decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his eyes shone with an intense hypnotic glare.
Of course, I recognised this face immediately. It was the face of my oldest and most dangerous enemy; the renegade Algolite who has become the most notorious villain in all of Space and Time.
Formed out of the bizarre energy was the very face of Don Wingus!!
“Kit-10!” I called.
The robotic feline then shot several beams of her nose-laser at the strange apparition, but it was to no avail. The horrid face, completely unharmed by the blasts of the robot’s energy ray, continued to float across the chamber to-wards us.
Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the terrible black and red energy phantasm vanished.
“Daniel,” said Millie Drake, “wasn’t that… ?”
“Quite so,” I replied. “It was the face of Don Wingus manifesting by the force of the Olympianoid energy of Minerva.”
“So it was him that stole the sculpture!”
“So it seems. That apparition was just a side effect of his use of the energies. Nevertheless, it may be of some use to us, hmmm? Kit-10, can you analyse the energy readings and trace them to the source from whence they are emanating?”
“Accessing information, s--,” replied the mechanical cat in her simulated yet pleasantly-feminine voice. “Energy source verified as Olympianoid, and detected to have transmitted from an address at 11753 Bronx Road, which is found in city record business database to be an establishment known as the White Oak Tavern.”
(It should be noted here that Kit-10, in addition to her other feline characteristics, is completely unable to openly show respect to anyone. In truth, the closest she ever comes to it is by referring to me with a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir" -- and Millie Drake with “m--” -- for “ma’am”.)
‘By the Triple Star!” I swore. “That is indeed the area where Poe lived when he resided in this city, hmmm? Wingus has taken it there to amplify the powers further -- no doubt in his latest plan to establish himself as fascist dictator of the world!”
“We need to stop him!” cried Millie.
“Indeed we do, my dear,” I agreed, fetching my hat and cloak. “This will be dangerous mission indeed. The powers of Minerva are said to have been quite devastating. So come along, Millie and Kit-10. We have work to do!” …
At that same time, in a private room of the White Oak Tavern, the evil Don Wingus stood behind a table clad in a shiny black business suit with a blood-red necktie. Beside him was the insanely voluptuous form of his daughter Anastasia.
The peculiarly pulsating Olympianoid energy emanated from and object at the centre of the table before them. It began to swirl around Don Wingus, and continued to grow in its paranormal potency.
“The power is mine!” announced Wingus. “The power of Minerva and of the Olympianoids is now mine! It is mine and I shall use it to establish myself as ruler of Earth and other worlds! It is mine and no one shall stand before me! No one -- not even the meddling Kosmikos of Algol; not even Daniel Rumanos!”
With this, as the horrid extraterrestrial radiance continued to increase around him, the villainous Don Wingus let forth with a peal of utterly mad laughter. …
Night-time had fallen before Millie Drake, Kit-10, and I arrived at the White Oak Tavern. At first, the business seemed like a quite normal drinking establishment, with numerous patrons enjoying their night out, having beer or whiskey and watching sporting events on the bar’s two widescreen television sets.
“Kit-10,” I said, “do you still detect the presence of the Minerva powers here?”
“Of course, s--,” replied the robotic feline. “They are currently emanating from a backroom behind the door labelled ‘private patronage’.”
My companions and I then went to this door and opened it, carefully venturing inside. We soon enough beheld the horror were seeking; we saw it just as the door slammed shut behind us.
What we beheld was the notorious Magister Don Wingus and his daughter Anastasia standing behind a table on which was a small antique sculpture of a raven -- from which radiated the horrific black and red energies of the Olympianoid known as Minerva.
“Greetings, Rumanos,” sneered the evil Don Wingus. “We have been expecting you. You do doubt imagine that you can accomplish your objective of halting my plans, but you are incorrect. The power of Minerva is mine, and I shall use it to conquer all!”
“Wingus, I should have known it was you from the start,” I countered. “You escaped from the Axe of Romulus, and have now continued your bid to utilise Olympianoid powers by stealing the raven sculpture that once belonged to Poe -- and by murdering Mr. David Miron in the process!”
“Oh, my little Anastasia here took care of that aspect,” replied the villain. “She has become quiet adept at both assassination and safe-cracking.”
“It was fun,” giggled Stacy Wingus. “I made a date with him from my OnlyPervs account, ‘@theyluvmilanxx’.”
“Wingus,” I said, ignoring the insane girl, “you should know by now that you cannot control the powers of the Olympianoids. They have grown chaotic and unpredictable with age.”
“Oh, but you are wrong in that, Rumanos,” he returned. “You are so wrong. The power of Minerva is mine!”
With this, the black and red energies that had been swirling about suddenly increased in potency and began to lurch to-wards Millie Drake, Kit-10, and me.
“Daniel,” cried Millie, “the Olympianoid powers seem to be under his control! What can we do?!”
“You can do nothing, Miss Drake,” shouted Don Wingus. “You can do nothing, for I now command the powers to destroy you both -- along with that ridiculous mechanical pussy! Now, Daniel Rumanos, you old nuisance -- you will die!!”
Forsooth, it is at all possible, my dear friends and most loyal readers, that you can even commence to comprehend the sheer terror, in truth the absolute ungodly horror of the grotesque situation in which young Miss Drake and I then found ourselves? There we were in the private room of the White Oak Tavern, facing the evil Magister Don Wingus and his dangerously seductive daughter Anastasia. There we were, with the awesome force of the alien Olympianoid energy heading directly to-wards us -- the immensely powerful and potentially deadly eldritch energy that Wingus intended to utilise in his plot to subjugate the planet Earth!
“You will now die, Rumanos!” repeated the wicked Don Wingus amidst peals of his utterly insane laughter. “You will now die along with your wretched companions, and I -- Magister Don Wingus of Algol -- shall go on to use the powers of Minerva to establish myself in my rightful place as ruler of this world and others!”
Millie Drake clung to me in absolute horror at the grotesquely radiant alien energies bearing down upon us; energies that even then were beginning to cause us extreme and intense pain. Kit-10 nobly continued in her attempts to defend us with rays of her blaster, but it was of no use against the Olympianoid powers.
“Die, Daniel Rumanos, you accursed old meddler!” shouted Wingus. “Die! Die! Die!”
“Father, please don’t do this!” suddenly interrupted Stacy Wingus. “Please don’t kill Doctor Rumanos! I want him! I like him and want him to be mine! Please don’t kill him!”
“Anastasia, you cretinous courtesan!” rejoined Don Wingus, turning to slap his daughter hard across the face. “I am sick to death of your inappropriate obsession with that ridiculous poltroon Daniel Rumanos! He is nothing to us! He is only a glorified Space cop for the accursed Kosmikos! I am Don Wingus and I shall…”
The voice of Wingus then halted due to his noticing a strange occurrence in the room. Forsooth, the very energies of the Olympianoids had now ceased to threaten Millie Drake and me, and had in stead changed directions, now heading directly to-wards Wingus and his daughter!
“No!” bellowed Don Wingus in sudden realisation of what was happening. “No! You cannot do this to me! I am Don Wingus, the rightful ruler of worlds! No! No!! You cannot do this to me! You cannot… !!”
By now, the energy of Minerva had completely surround Wingus and his daughter. I heard Stacy scream in terror and her father bellow in outrage as it then imploded upon them. Within a mere moment, the energy had vanished, taking the villains with it. All was now quiet in that back room of the Tavern. Even the raven sculpture had crumbled away to only a tiny pile of dust.
“Are you all right, Millie?” I enquired concernedly.
“Yes, I’m okay,” she replied.
“What about you, Kit-10?”
“All systems undamaged and functionally within normal parameters, s--,” replied the robotic cat.
“That is excellent to hear.”
“But... what happened?” asked Millie Drake. “I know the powers turned against Don Wingus and Stacy when he got distracted, but where have they gone?”
“They have been taken out of this reality,” I explained. “They have gone to another dimensional plane; a sort of hell -- from which they may never return.”
“Well, I hope they don’t. But what about the raven sculpture?”
“It was hoary with age, and the re-energising of its powers was more than its structural integrity could bear. It is no more -- and the occult legacy of Edgar Allan Poe is at an end.”
With this, the lovely Miss Millie Drake, the robotic Kit-10, and I -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos -- left the White Oak Tavern to return to our downtown New York City headquarters -- until our next assignment!
***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN