SOUTH OF THE BORDER

“His name is Kevyn Matthews,” said I. “He is not of Hispanic descent, but somehow became obsessed with Mexican cuisine whilst attending cooking school. His restaurant is called ‘South of the Border’ and is located in the basement of a private hotel in Greenwich Village, hmmm?”

“And that’s where the strange energy readings were detected as coming from by our instruments at HQ?” queried Millie Drake.

“Quite so, love,” I confirmed. “The readings seem to be of the type associated with the Aztec god of darkness known as Tezcatlipoca!”

Driving my specially-modified Edwardian roadster (affectionately known as “Lizzie”) into the outskirts of the artsy bohemian lower Manhattan neighbourhood, I was clad in my usual finery; including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, Star of David necklace, and one of my favourite opera capes.

In the passenger seat was my assistant -- known as Miss Millie Drake -- an exceedingly attractive young lady with luxurious chestnut hair, lovely violet eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The pink dress she wore served to highlight her slender figure.

“I wish Kit-10 could have come with us tonight,” said Millie.

“I also miss the presence of our robotic feline friend,” I admitted, “but she has become increasingly busy keeping our systems updated at headquarters. I suppose we could say she has become more of a ‘house cat’, or perhaps I should say ‘home computer’.”

Millie giggled at my joke but then became serious, “So Daniel, what about this Mexican god? What is it really?”

“Tezcatlipoca is a thought form created by the generations of Aztec priests and others who worshipped the concepts he represents with horrid ceremonies of human sacrifice. Although not actually a ‘god’, of course, he is an incredibly powerful force. If someone has succeeded in calling forth his eldritch powers, we need to stop such an outrage before it becomes a danger to the area -- or perhaps the entire world!”

By now, I had parked the car at the corner on which was found The Village Inn, and we saw the sign for the ‘South of the Border’ restaurant housed in its basement. Strangely, only dim lighting seemed to be shining from the establishment, although we were there during its advertised business hours.

“Be cautious, my dear Mills,” I cautioned as walked down the small flight of stone steps leading to the restaurant. “We know not what horrors may lurk in…”

“Oh my gosh, Daniel!” suddenly screamed Millie Drake. “Look out!”

I looked up to see what had so frightened my companion and beheld an horror indeed. It was like unto a mass of shining black light, drifting upwards from the bottom of the restaurant steps -- directly to-wards us!

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the phantasm vanished.

“What was that, Daniel?” asked Millie.

I took an object from the pocket of my jacket. It was a golden cylinder on which was some Hebrew lettering.

“The transonic mezuzah,” said I, using it to scan the area. “It is a bit of an upgrade from my old device, hmmm?”

“I love it!” cheered Millie. “What does it say?”

“Hmmm,” I pondered upon looking at the resultant readings before returning the instrument to my pocket. “It appears that energy burst was indeed of the type associated with the Aztec god Tezcatlipoca, albeit in a condensed form. It was only a warning. If the actual force of the dark spirit has been evoked here, we shall have to face a much more horrific manifestation.”

We continued on into the restaurant. The décor was stereotypically “Mexican”, with huge hats and donkeys and old tequila bottles (unfortunately empty), along with other such gewgaws.

“By the Triple Star!” I swore. “If this place is not condemned for conjuring dark deities, it should be so for cultural insensitivity, hmmm?”

“You’re right!” agreed Millie. “How can they get away with this these days? I thought…”

At that very moment, we were interrupted by a man walking out from the back room of the otherwise deserted restaurant. He was perhaps nearly fifty years of age and of mixed African-American descent, and wore a white chef's hat and uniform. He was also, as was evident from his gait, obviously of homosexual proclivities.

“Oh look at this,” he lisped. “It’s Doctor Rumanos and his almost-jailbait ‘plus one’. Can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve heard stories of your meddling ways.”

“We are here for an important reason, Matthews,” I countered, ignoring his taunts. “Your apparent evocations of the powers of Tezcatlipoca are unspeakably dangerous. Doing such things can release chaos upon the world. You must cease from committing this outrage immediately.”

“No, I won’t. I have called forth the great Tezcatlipoca and his power is mine. I will use it, once the proper sacrifices have been performed, to make myself the most famous chef in the world!”

Millie spoke, “That doesn’t make any sense. How did you summon an Aztec god anyway?”

“Through that,” replied Kevyn Matthews, who lifted his hand to point at something upon the far wall of the restaurant. “I found it in an antique shop just before I took my final exam to become a chef, and heard the sound of Tezcatlipoca calling me from it.”

We looked and beheld the object at which he pointed. It was an incredibly old mirror, black in colour, with strange wisps of ebon energy playing about it.

“By the Eternal Spires!” I swore. “That old looking glass is made of obsidian and could indeed be of Mesoamerican origin. The native priests used such things in a form of scrying to know the will of their ‘gods’.”

“Correct, Doctor,” said Matthews, “and I now am the great modern priest of the mighty Tezcatlipoca, as you’ll now see!”

I reached into my pocket and retrieved the transonic mezuzah, raising it to point at Kevyn Matthews.

Matthews screeched, “There will be none of your Israeli colonist sorcery, Doctor! Only the power of Tezcatlipoca will be supreme!’

With this pronouncement, the strange black energy suddenly increased an hundredfold, and the restaurant was filled with the darkling ebon horror of its swirling demonic presence, accompanied with a noise like unto an horrid savage chanting. The resultant vibration sent the transonic flying from my hand. I heard it clatter to the floor some metres distant.

“You will have the honour of being the first of many to die in the new worship of my dark god!” said the villain amongst his own insane laughter. “Feel his power, Doctor, as it takes the very life from you and your little lady friend!”

With this, and before Millie and I could further react, the full force of the glossy black energy surged directly to-wards us!

I must now enquire of you, my dear friends and most appreciated readers, if you can understand the total abject horror, forsooth the extreme unhallowed terror of what we were then experiencing, there at the strange Greenwich Village restaurant known to eternal infamy as “South of the Border”. Can you recognise and comprehend the complete unholy grotesqueness of this? There we were, the lovely Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, extraterrestrial espionage agent -- facing the bizarre restaurant owner and chef by the name of Kevyn Matthews. There we were, as the phantasmagorical ebon energy of the Aztec god Tezcatlipoca was fully let loose upon us; the same occult power that the mad Matthews intended to use in his bid for international fame -- a fame that would in this way bring about the death of countless innocent human lives!

“Feel the power of the mighty Tezcatlipoca!” repeated Matthews in his evil ecstasy. “Feel his power as it takes your lives!”

The evil energy hit us hard, sending Millie and me sprawling across the floor of the restaurant. It surrounded us completely, creating a whirling maelstrom of absolute horror in which were flashes of human skulls and decaying corpses and other symbols of death and darkness sacred unto the horrid deity known as Tezcatlipoca.

“Daniel, what can we do?” cried Millie Drake. “The energy is too strong!”

“We must fight it, love!” said I. “We must find a way to break free and… Ah! Of course!”

I had just noticed that we had landed near unto where the transonic mezuzah had also hit the floor. I quickly reached out and picked it up, programming a certain setting before raising the device high into the air.

“Hear, O Israel,” I invoked; “Hashem is our God; Hashem is One!”

At this, the horrendous energies suddenly reversed course, leaving us and rushing directly at Kevyn Matthews. He screamed in horror as it surrounded him, pummelling him with its diabolical force as he writhed in agony, twisting in pain as the dark energy seared into his flesh and bone.

A few moments later, with a sound as unto a crescendo of unholy terror accompanied by the sudden shattering of the black mirror,  the Tezcatlipoca power vanished, and there did fall to the floor a grisly desiccated husk of what had once been the utterly insane chef and would-be restaurateur known as Kevyn Matthews.

“So it appears that Tezcatlipoca took his sacrifice after all, hmmm?” I pondered, standing up and then helping Millie to her feet. “Anyway, this transonic is indeed even better than the old one, hmmm? Although, come to think of it, this is the old one!”

“What do you mean, Daniel?” wondered Millie Drake.

“I have not thought of it in such a long time, my dear. I originally disguised the transonic mezuzah as a turnscrew when I did an undercover assignment in a neo-Nazi cult many years ago. That was before I met you, in fact. I just never got around to changing it back until this latest upgrade!”

“Well it’s wonderful, Daniel!”

“I say, Mills, I shall have to tell you more stories of my old adventures sometime, hmmm?”

“I would love that!”

I looked around the restaurant. All was peaceful, and there was no sign of the evil energy. The pile of tiny shards that were once the obsidian mirror lay harmlessly on the floor, as did the charred corpse of the madman Kevyn Matthews

“The evocation of Tezcatlipoca, the Aztec god of darkness, has been undone,” I opined, returning the mezuzah to my pocket. “The exorcism by the Holy Name banished it completely. As for Kevyn Matthews, his death shall be attributed to a kitchen fire and he will soon be forgotten.”

“But what about the restaurant?” asked Millie.

“I shall contact an investor I know in the Long Island Hamptons,” I pondered. “I am quite certain he will be interested in backing the endeavour of converting this place into a proper kosher delicatessen. After all, Greenwich Village could use a good rabbinical blessing, hmmm?”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

A NIGHT AT THE OPERA

The performance of Charles Gounod’s “Faust” was already underway when we arrived at the Metropolitan Opera House, but this was no problem to us. After all, we had not come there that evening to enjoy the presentation. We were there on an investigation.

“So it’s really Mephistopheles energy?” enquired Millie Drake. “Like the devil from the Faust legend?”

“Quite so,” I replied. “Our instruments at headquarters did indeed detect such an energy reading emanating from the opera house, hmmm?”

We had by now walked past the ticket-takers, who completely ignored our presence due to our Algolite mentalist abilities.

I was clad in my usual finery; including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, my Magen David necklace, and of course one of my favourite opera capes.

My companion, known as Miss 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 her slender figure.

Kit-10, our robotic cat friend, had stayed behind at our downtown HQ to monitor the computer systems.

“So Daniel," said Millie, “you said this Mephistopheles, or Mephisto, isn’t real but exists anyway?”

“Quite so, my dear Mills,” I affirmed whilst twiddling my frills. “The Mephistopheles character from the medieval Faust story, popularised in the plays by Marlowe and Goethe, and this opera by Gounod, was indeed fictional. Nevertheless, his use over the centuries as a stock villain in literature, music, and art has built up a massive reserve of psychic energy that is referred to -- by those demonologists knowledgeable enough to comprehend its source -- as Mephisto Energy.”

We had by now approached an area in the back of the opera house’s front hall, and had opened a door leading to a steep staircase going downwards. I took the transonic mezuzah from my jacket pocket and used it to scan the area.

“By the Daemonian Spires!” I swore upon glancing at  the resultant readings before returning the device to my pocket. “The transonic does indeed show an awesome conglomeration of Mephistopheles type power coming from the little-used cellars here. Someone has to have called it forth, and is using this night of the opera Faust being presented to enhance and focus it; but to what end, hmmm?”

“Daniel,” spoke Millie, “do you think that… Oh my gosh! Look!”

I whirled around to see what had so frightened my assistant and beheld an horror indeed. It was an huge mass of crimson energy floating up the stairway -- and heading directly to-wards us!

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the horrendous mass of eldritch power vanished.

“Daniel, was that…?” stammered Millie Drake.

“Quite so, love,” I confirmed. “That was indeed the energy of Mephistopheles. However, what we beheld was only an echo, forsooth a warning of what is to come. If it has been evoked as it seems to have been, then our mission is a dangerous one indeed!”

And in sooth, the revelation of all that was actually transpiring was not to wait much longer, for after Millie and I had descended the stairway to that cobwebbed cellar of the opera house, we beheld a shadowy figure standing near the far wall.

He appeared to be a man of middle years, clad in a black business suit with a long blood-red necktie, his visage showing an handsome distinction despite being marked with the results of lifetimes of extreme unholy evil. His hair was long and dark, and his face decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an intense hypnotic glare.

Of course, I recognised him immediately; I recognised him as the renegade member of my own Algolite race who has become the most dangerous and wanted criminal in all of Time and Space -- as well as my own oldest and most bitter foe.

“Don Wingus!” I said. “I should have known. So you did escape from Lucifuge, and it is you who has been using the Metropolitan Opera House to evoke the power of Mephistopheles!”

“Rumanos, you meddling old clown,” countered Wingus, wisps of crimson energy beginning to play about him. “I cannot say I am surprised to see you here. You have never been able to resist the urge to pry into my affairs.”

“Wingus, your evocation of the Mephistopheles energy  is dangerous beyond measure. It is a chaotic force that is ultimately non-controllable, and is known to have horrible repercussions to all who even dabble with it, hmmm? You cannot believe that you can wield such a…”

“Oh, do be quiet, Rumanos. I am utterly sick and tired of your attempts at pontifical platitudes. The Mephisto power is completely under my control, and I shall utilise it to further my most cherished goal -- total world domination!”

Whilst Don Wingus spoke, the crimson power began to increase about him, whirling like unto a diabolical cyclone of hellish potency accompanied by a sound like unto the mad playing of a thousand violins.

I had secretly taken the transonic mezuzah from my pocket as I spoke, and now began to raise it to-wards the villain. “Wingus, I cannot allow this. By the authority of the Kosmikos of Algol, I do now…

“You shall do nothing, Rumanos!” returned Wingus. “Behold the Mephistopheles power -- the power that is  now mine!”

With this, before I could further react, an huge surge of the crimson energy suddenly shot out to-wards Millie Drake and me. I heard my companion scream as the power hit us with a force like unto a raging hurricane. The transonic was blown out of my hand, and I heard it clatter to the floor some metres distant.

Then, Millie and I were taken off our feet by the force of the demoniacal power. We felt ourselves propelled through the air to crash hard against the far wall of the cellar!

Is an understanding of the unspeakable satanic horror that we were then experiencing even possible, my dear friends and readers? Is it possible to even begin to realise the complete and utter demonic terror that my companion and I were undergoing, there in the rarely used cellar of the Metropolitan Opera House? There we were, the lovely Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, extraterrestrial espionage agent and Knight of the Eternal Spires. There we were, facing the evil intergalactic villain known to eternal infamy as Magister Don Wingus. There we were, as the criminal unleashed the terrifying Mephistopheles energy that he had brought under his command -- in truth an awesome occult power that he intended to use to rule the entire world!

“Behold the power of Mephistopheles!” repeated the wicked Don Wingus amidst peals of his evil mocking laughter. “Behold the power that I shall use to establish myself as supreme ruler of planet Earth! Behold the power that is mine -- the very power of Mephistopheles!”

I fought hard to overcome the effect of the blast.

“Millie…,” I said, “are you all right?”

“I think I’m okay, Daniel,” she muttered. “It hurt a lot but I should be okay.”

As I struggled to stand up, I felt something on the floor. It was the transonic device, near to which we had landed. Rallying my strength, I grabbed it and aimed it to-wards Don Wingus and the Mephistopheles power, having activated a certain setting.

“You can do nothing to stop me, Rumanos!” continued Wingus in insane exultation. “I am Magister Don Wingus, and I… Wait! What is happening? What…?!”

The swirling crimson energy had now reversed its direction, and seemed to be falling directly into the form of Don Wingus. I saw him struggle and attempt to escape it, but his efforts were in vain. The energies completely surrounded and permeated his very being, whirling in an inescapable maelstrom of complete demonic power.

I  stood up, then reached down to help Millie to her feet.

“Daniel, what is happening?” she questioned. “You used the transonic to turn the Mephistopheles power against him!”

“Quite so, my dear Millie,” I replied, returning the device to my pocket. “Quite so. I just utilised the ‘quick reversal’ switch on the transonic. It is usually used to control certain artificial intelligence computer functions, hmmm? It occurred to me that this is exactly what Mephistopheles is -- an ‘AI’ program created by the combined psychic force of everyone who has ever thrilled over the character in his fictional appearances. As I tried to warn Wingus, Mephisto is known as a trickster figure, always turning on those who summon him. I therefore gave the power just a little nudge to do just that!”

We still heard the voice of Don Wingus, but it seemed so much more distant. The whirling force of Mephistopheles had by now hidden him from view.

“No!” he bellowed in mixed fear and indignation. “No! You cannot do this to me! I am the one who should command you! I am…! No! No! Noooooooo!!”

Then, within a split second of time, the awful crimson energies of Mephistopheles vanished from the room -- taking the wicked Don Wingus with them.

“It appears he has been taken,” said I; “taken into the inter-dimensional world in which the Mephistopheles power is supreme. There he should receive his proper punishment.”

All was now quiet in the old cellar, and we could hear the music from the opera distantly filtering through.

“By the Triple Star!” I swore. “I say, Mills, listen to that. They are just doing the part where Marguerite is saved from evil. Fitting, hmmm?”

“Wow, it really is!” wondered Millie.

“I say, love,” said I whilst we began our exit of the opera house, “we can stop by Little Italy for a good spaghetti dinner, hmmm? I know that Gounod was a Frenchman, but opera always has me craving Italian.” …

Little did we know that, a scant few blocks distant, a shadowy figure of a long-haired man in a black business suit approached a strangely out-of-place lamppost that resembled something from the Victorian gaslight era. A porthole type doorway opened in it and the man stepped inside. A few moments later, with the weird gasping moaning noise of a Time-Space machine engine -- accompanied by an echo of evil mocking laughter -- the odd lamppost faded away into the void.

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

KILLER

It was at a time before I met my wonderful Millie Drake that this bizarre episode took place. I had just become aware of a series of video messages being posted on the internet site of the police department in Needham, Massachusetts. These videos were commentary by a certain John Schlittler, the very chief of police for that town, who claimed to be concerned about the prevalence of “underage grooming” and “child sex trafficking” in the community.

All of this would have been of absolutely no importance to me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, extraterrestrial espionage agent -- if it had not been for the fact that my name was mentioned several times in these public service videos. Apparently, Chief John Schlittler of the Needham Police Department was attempting to falsely link me in New York City to these horrid crimes in his area. As I had never had any connection with his individual, it caused me to ponder as to what eldritch influence was upon this Schlittler person that would cause him to so needlessly defame my name and reputation.

The upshot of this is that I travelled to the small town of Needham in order to investigate these going-on in person. I arrived outside of the police station, parking my specially-modified azure-coloured Alfa Romeo and immediately entering the building. I was of course clad in my usual finery; including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, Star of David necklace, and one of my favourite opera capes.

Utilising my Algolitish mind powers to cover my presence in the station, I investigated several rooms searching for clues as to what could have caused Chief Schlittler’s apparent madness. I took the transonic mezuzah from my jacket pocket and used it to scan the area.

“By the Triune Star!” I swore upon looking at the resultant readings. “This shows the presence of Maskim energy! That would explain quite a bit, hmmm? The demonic spirits known as the Maskim -- those ‘seven that lie in wait’ spoken of with horror in ancient Sumerian chronicles -- are actually apparitions of the prehistoric royal family of the planet Mercury, whose tyrannical ways and psychic abilities caused them to linger after death and to migrate across the planets of the Solar System, becoming the demons known to the Magi of Chaldea.”

I returned the transonic to my pocket and continued my trek through that headquarters of the Needham Police Department. Soon, I encountered an horror indeed. Just as I entered one of the interrogation rooms, an huge whirling mass of ebon black energy suddenly appeared in my path -- heading directly to-wards me!

Then, as soon as it had appeared, the horrible phantasm vanished.

“That was only a warning,” I pondered. “The Maskim are aware of my presence here. A full manifestation of them will be far more terrifying. I wonder if…”

I was suddenly interrupted by a figure entering through the door of the room. It was a middle-aged man of medium height, heavily muscular, and with bulldoggish Germanic features, a shaved head, and icy blue eyes; clad in the dress uniform of an high-ranking local police official.

“Hello, Doctor Rumanos,” he said, his voice locked in a threatening tone. “I knew you couldn’t help sticking your big hooked nose into police business, especially after we exposed you for what you are. I’m Chief John Schlittler of the Needham Police Department, and this is your last day alive!”

“Well, Chief Schlittler,” said I, ignoring his threats, “I wonder if you have any idea what is actually happening here, hmmm?”

“I’m just sick and tired of you people!” he bellowed, his voice rough and uncouth. “You Jews and Blacks and immigrants trying to pass yourselves off as decent Americans! I’m tired of it, do you hear?”

“Ah, so that is your goal, hmmm? Xenophobia. Racism and anti-Semitism. Such hatred is what attracted the demons to you. It makes you so easy for them to manipulate.”

“Shut up, you damned kiddie-diddler! I’m going to kick your frigging greasy ass! Then I‘ll use the power I have to cleanse this world of your kind and make a future for the superior white race!”

As he spoke, I noticed his eyes flashing with a darksome effulgence -- the very sign of demoniacal possession.

“That does it, Chief,” said I, taking the transonic mezuzah from my pocket. “You are possessed by the Maskim, and I must…”

Before I could continue, Schlittler raised his hand and a bolt of black energy shot from it, hitting the transonic so it flew from my hand and hit the floor across the interrogation room.

“You see, Doctor?” shouted the possessed policeman. “I have the power to kill you, and you can’t stop me!”

With this, the dark energy suddenly burst forth all around Chief John Schlittler, accompanied with an odour like unto cheap perfume mixed with excrement and a sound like unto the baying of an hundred thousand hounds of hell. The energy, resplendent in its total ebony darkness, then blasted out directly to-wards me!

I am at this juncture left to ponder, my dear friends and most loyal readers, if you can even begin to recognise and comprehend the total abject horror, forsooth the complete and utter terror of what I was then experiencing. There I was -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, Intergalactic Man of Mystery and Knight of the Eternal Spires -- facing the demonically possessed police chief known to eternal infamy as John Schlittler. There I was as he released the full power of the legendary Maskim of Mercury directly upon me -- the same phantasmagorical alien power that he intended to utilise in his bid to spread his horrible racist and anti-Semitic doctrines around the world!

“I have the power at my command!” repeated the insane police chief. “I have the power, and will use it to end you! You can't fight back no matter how much you want to be a cop killer!”

The power hit me hard, sending me careening across the room. It then completely surrounded me, engulfing me in a darkling maelstrom of absolute satanic horror. I saw the hovering essence of the seven Maskim, insane in screaming total madness beyond all reckoning. The stench was horrendous, and the infernal noise an howling cacophony of unreserved dread.

“Die, Doctor Rumanos!” I heard Schlittler’s voice reaching me within the demonic whirlwind. “Die! Die, and I can then go on to protect the future of the white race!”

As I struggled against the horror of the Maskim power, I then noticed something. I had hit on the floor near to where the transonic mezuzah had landed. I quickly reached down and picked it up, activating a certain setting before then raising the device on high.

“Baruch atah Adonai!” I prayed as the mezuzah sent forth a wave like unto one of pure celestial light.

“What!” I heard John Schlittler bellow in outrage. “What have you done, you damned frigging…!”

He had noticed that the demonic force was reversing its course, no longer surrounding me but in stead headed directly to-wards him.

“No!” screamed Chief John Schlittler in terror as the Maskim power hit him. “You can’t do this, you frigging cop killer! Cop killer! Aaaaaaaaahh!”

The dark power had surrounded Schlittler completely, swirling around him in an evil cadence of complete ungodly horror. This lasted a few moments before the Maskim force then abruptly disappeared -- leaving behind it the dead body of what had once been the hate-mongering police chief John Schlittler.

“‘Cop killer’ indeed,” said I. “Demon killer, more like!”

I stood up and brushed off my clothing before looking around the interrogation room. All was now quiet. Chief John Schlittler was dead and there was no sign of the terrible power of the Maskim. The horror was gone.

“The Hebrew exorcism was effective,” I opined, returning the mezuzah to my pocket. “The horror of the Maskim has been cast into an inter-dimensional abyss.”

I left the police station and went back to my car, returning to my NYC headquarters without incident. Without the dire influence of the Maskim, the false propaganda about me was forgotten, and the death of John Schlittler -- chief of police in the town of Needham, Massachusetts -- was attributed to a massive stroke caused by overwork at his task as a law enforcement official. Forsooth, the town’s mayor even awarded him a posthumous medal!

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

LUCIFUGE

“The talisman was stolen from a private collector by the name of Jason Cotherman,” said I. “He was found murdered in his home, stabbed to death by something with a small but very sharp blade.”

“So what was the talisman?” enquired Millie Drake.

“It was an authentic silver magical object of medieval make,” I explained, “manufactured to be utilised in a ritual to summon the demon Lucifuge.”

I was clad in usual finery that evening as we stood outside of the old abandoned building of Franklin Street Presbyterian Church; including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, Star of David necklace, and one of my favourite opera capes.

My companion, known as Miss Millie Drake, is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, and a sun-kissed complexion. The powder blue minidress she wore only served to highlight her slender figure.

Kit-10, our robotic cat friend, had stayed behind at our downtown NYC headquarters to undergo a systems upgrade.

“And our instruments at HQ detected an energy reading coming from this old church?” queried Millie. “Something that may be connected to the talisman?”

“Quite so,” I affirmed. “It was an energy signature of the type associated with Lucifuge. You see, he was originally a colonel of the Cacodemons of Andromeda, that army known for their exploits in the Galactic Wars so many ages ago. After the extinguishing of his physical form, his psychic essence drifted to Earth, becoming the legendary demon of the medieval grimoires or books of magic, hmmm?”

“So someone could actually use the talisman to summon him?

“It is possible. It would require someone adept in occult knowledge and practice; someone who… Millie, look out!”

I had just noticed a small metallic object speeding through the air directly at my companion!

I sprang forward and helped to get Millie Drake out of the way of the strange projectile, only our superior Algolite reflexes making this possible. It clattered to the pavement a few yards distant.

“Daniel, what happened?” she cried.

I looked around. Whoever had thrown the object had fled the scene.

“Let us investigate, hmmm?” said I, taking Millie’s hand and going over to where the object had landed. “By the Triple Star! What is that thing?”

“Daniel, that’s just a cuticle pusher!” said Millie. “Oh my gosh! Somebody was trying to kill me with it!”

“And it seems,” I added. “that may be the same type of ‘weapon’ that was used to murder Mr. Cotherman.”

“Goodness, Daniel! Do you think it could be…?”

“Now now, Mills. Let us not speculate before we have all the facts. Whomever threw this weapon must have gone into the old church, so we must strive on and face them!”

“Yes, it is our mission from the Kosmikos of Algol,” spoke my companion bravely, “To protect the human race from those who would evoke satanic horror upon them. Let’s go!”

We entered the premises of the former Franklin Street Presbyterian Church. It had been closed for several years, and sadly left to gather dust and spiders. The only light was from street lamps shining through the remains of stained glass windows.

When we got to the sanctuary, a sight of satanic horror awaited us. The large cross had been turned upside-down, and before it was the old church altar that had been covered with a blasphemous cloth of ebony silk. On it were black candles surrounding a silver disk on which were carved the form of a writhing serpent along with distorted Latin lettering. Around it played sparks of darksome occult energy.

“The stolen talisman that summons Lucifuge!” I said.

Behind the altar were two figures. One of them appeared to be a man of middle years, clad in a black business suit with a long blood-red necktie. His face still showed signs of handsome distinction despite being marked with the results of lifetimes of extreme unhallowed evil; his hair was long and dark, and his visage decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute hypnotic glare.

Next to him was an insanely voluptuous young girl with raven hair and luminous blue-green eyes, her mouth painted like an inviting scarlet gash. She was wearing only a tiny purple bikini.

Of course, I recognised them both immediately. I recognised the man as my oldest and most deadly enemy -- the renegade member of my own Algolite race who has become the most wanted criminal in all of Time and Space -- and the girl as his whorish offspring.

“You!" I exclaimed. “Don Wingus. I should have known. So you did escape from the Sceptre of Zeus, and it was you that stole the talisman, after your daughter Anastasia here had murdered Mr. Jason Cotherman with a cuticle pusher -- before her more recent attempt to assassinate Millie!”

“Oh my,” mocked the villainous Wingus, his voice tinged with total madness, “Rumanos and little Miss Drake, come here to interfere with my plans. You will find your efforts to no avail. The power of Lucifuge is mine, and I shall use it -- enhanced with my own Algolite will -- to establish myself as supreme ruler of this world!”

“Wingus, you are utterly mad,” I charged. “You cannot control the forces of Lucifuge. He was known as a bringer of chaos even amongst the Andromedans. His essence is fitful and unpleasant, to put it kindly. Amplified to the level you intend would bring about complete eldritch pandemonium. You cannot expect to…”

“You will not stop me, Rumanos!” returned Don Wingus. “I have already called forth the power and brought it to my command -- as you shall now know!”

With this, the darkling energies playing around the talisman suddenly increased an hundredfold, swirling around in a diabolical maelstrom of complete demoniacal terror, an whirlwind of absolute horror in which were flashes of terrible things like unto alien serpents and twisted abominations beyond all sane imagining. This was accompanied by an odour like unto spoiled milk mixed with excrement and cheap perfume, and a sound as if a thousand air raid sirens were revolving about the chamber.

“Now, Rumanos,” continued Wingus. “You shall experience the powers of Lucifuge that are under my command, for I shall begin my domination of all by bringing about your death!”

Then, before we could even react, the blacker than black satanic energy shot directly to-wards Millie and me!

Is it at all even achievable, my friends and readers, that you can understand the sheer infernal horror, forsooth the extreme ungodly terror that we were then experiencing? There we were, the lovely Miss Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, alien espionage agent and Knight of the Eternal Spires -- in that abandoned location of Franklin Street Presbyterian Church. There we were, facing the evil Magister Don Wingus and his dangerously-seductive daughter Anastasia. There we were, as the full force of the demon known as Lucifuge was released upon us; the very same power that Wingus intended to use in his insane bid to conquer the planet Earth!

“You shall die, Rumanos and Miss Drake!” repeated the wicked Wingus amidst peals of his utterly insane laughter. “You shall die -- by the powers of Lucifuge that I shall use to rule all!!”

The phantasmagorical energy surrounded my companion and me, encasing us inside a swirling cyclone of dark horrendous terror. Millie clung to me in fear as the images of unnameable supernatural evil whirled in a cacophony of absolute revulsion around us.

Then, from within that psychic hurricane of demonic horror, I heard the voice of Anastasia Wingus.

“Father,” she said, “please don’t do this! Please don’t kill Doctor Rumanos, okay? I want him! I want to have him to play with when you are ruler of the world! You can kill that stupid Miss Drake if you want, but not him! Please don’t do it, father! Please?!”

“Stacy, you cretinoid cam-girl!” bellowed Don Wingus whilst striking his daughter hard across the face. “I am so utterly sick of your obsessions with that accursed meddler Daniel Rumanos! Do you hear me?! I am sick of it!!”

It was then that I noticed something else.

“The power,” I whispered to Millie. “It has stopped attacking us.”

I then managed to step forward and deliver a quick Daemonian kung fu kick directly to Don Wingus’s midsection, sending him sprawling backwards to collide against the inverted cross.

“Look, Daniel!” said Millie Drake. “the Lucifuge powers are turning against him!”

Indeed, as we watched, the dark energy reversed and headed directly to-wards Don Wingus and his murderous daughter, soon surrounding them with its whirlwind of phantasmal terror.

“No!” I heard Wingus shout from within the maelstrom. “No! You cannot do this to me! I am Don Wingus and should command all! You cannot…! No! No! Noooooooo!!”

Then, after one final scream from Stacy Wingus and one last bellow of rage from her evil father, the black demonic power suddenly vanished -- taking the obscenely evil duo with it.

I carefully surveyed the old church sanctuary. All was now quiet, and the talisman now lay motionless on the altar. The horror was finished.

“So Don Wingus was distracted and lost control of the demon power,” said Millie, “and it turned against him?”

“Quite so,” I affirmed, “and now it has taken him and his wretched daughter out of this dimension -- to their own fitting hell!”

I walked over to the altar and extinguished the candles.

“As for the talisman,” said I whilst securing it in my jacket pocket. “The late Mr. Cotherman’s heirs will be paid for its monetary value via his insurance policy; I shall say the proper exorcisms over it and we shall then keep the old relic in our collection of occult artefacts at HQ -- that no one shall ever again attempt to use it in the satanic summoning of Lucifuge!”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

GATES OF BABYLON

Millie Drake and I viewed the large ballroom around us, there in that mansion house in suburban New York. The guests that night were all strangely similar. The men were late middle aged, well-dressed types of the wealthy class. The other guests were made up entirely of young girls, ranging in age from about twelve to fifteen, all clad in scarlet-hued bikini tops and matching miniskirts.

“So what do you think is going on here, Daniel?” asked Millie. “You said we got an anonymous message to investigate Crowe Mansion, and the invitation to this party was easy to forge, but why are we really here?”

“That is what we must ascertain, my dear,” said I. “The owner of this house, Mr. Eliseus Crowe, is a rich shipping magnate about whom there are some strange rumours. I have it on good authority that the note we received was from one of his household servants, disgusted at Crowe’s lifestyle. Nevertheless, there is something quite strange at work here; something… otherworldly.”

I was clad in my usual finery; including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, Star of David necklace, and one of my favourite opera capes.

My companion, known as Miss Millie Drake, is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, an sun-kissed skin. The flowered dress she wore only served to highlight her slender figure.

Kit-10, our robotic cat friend, had stayed behind at our downtown headquarters to monitor the computer systems.

Millie and I had by now strolled over to the punch bowl. I took a glass of it and sipped it carefully.

“Hmmm,” I pondered. “Ordinary fruit punch, laced with a good imported wine. Chardonnay 1969 if my palate deceives me not.”

I noticed that one of the other guests, a grey haired man in a smart tuxedo, was eyeing my Magen David.

“I say,” he said, “I don’t think I’ve seen you at the meetings before. Are you a member of the Brotherhood?”

I looked at him sharply, silently encouraging for him to give up more information.

“I assume you must be,” he continued. “This meeting is closed to all except members of the Brotherhood of Marduk. Well, and our partners for the ceremony, of course.”

He then walked away to speak to some of the other guests.

“‘The Brotherhood of Marduk’?” wondered Millie Drake. “Oh my goodness, Daniel! Isn’t that…?”

“Quite so,” I replied, twiddling my frills. “Marduk is one of the mythological ‘gods’ of ancient Babylon, in fact the most honoured deity of that notoriously decadent culture. So this is a secret meeting of some modern devotees of that ancient obscenity, led by none other than…”

“Good evening, members of the Brotherhood of Marduk,” said a cultured man’s voice. “Welcome to our most important meeting ever, for this is the night in which we shall achieve immortality!”

I looked up and beheld the man who was speaking from a podium on which was a symbol quite like a black spade. He was wearing over his suit an ebony vestment robe covered with weirdly embroidered symbols of stars and planets and astrological signs. His strong features and complexion carried with them a look of mixed Mediterranean and Anglo descent.

“Eliseus Crowe himself,” I whispered. “He is the leader of this cult devoted to the ancient Babylonian debaucheries.”

“What does he mean by ‘immortality’?” queried Millie.

“By the Eternal Spires!” I swore. “It appears that the cult is intending to use these young girls in some sort of horrid sex magic ritual!”

“But where did they get them?”

“Countless children go missing each year in America. That many of them end up as high-end prostitutes is well-known -- and far too often ignored.”

“My Brothers,” continued Eliseus Crowe, a strange black and scarlet light beginning to play around him like a slithering snake, “nothing can hinder us, for -- as you can see -- the power of Marduk is mine. Tonight we, with the help of our young assistants, will experience renewed youth and vigour -- by the power of the most ancient Magic! Tonight -- The Gates of Babylon shall open!”

“But Daniel,” said Millie, “the Babylonian gods aren’t real, right?”

“Of course they are not gods and originally had no real existence,” I explained, “but through the generations of obscene sexual rites that were performed in their honour, a certain psyche-mentalist force was generated that exists in their form for those who would do the horrid perversions necessary to call it forth.”

Eliseus Crowe continued his unhallowed sermon from behind the podium: “Now, my Brothers, the time has come that we should take these young assistants and perform the ceremony of renewal! Take them, ravish them, enter them! By the covenant of our lord Marduk, take them and be invigorated!”

“No, Eliseus Crowe,” said I, stepping forwards to-wards the hideous cult leader. “You shall not debauch these youngsters. I am Doctor Daniel Rumanos of Algol, and I am putting a stop to your immoral cult right now!”

“What!” Crowe responded with a mixture of outrage and mirth. “You would stand against me? I am the modern high priest of Marduk, the greatest of the gods of Babylon! I have practiced his rites and have gained his powers -- powers that I can use to destroy you!”

With this, a thing of awesome eldritch evil occurred. The darksome energies that had been spinning around Eliseus Crowe suddenly intensified an hundredfold, and in doing so they took a definite shape; it was the form like unto an huge writhing serpent, black and red of hue, resplendent in its horrid slithering evil as it raised its horned serpentine head above Millie Drake and me!

“Oh my gosh!” cried my companion. “Daniel, what is that?!”

“That, my dear Millie,“ I opined, “is the great Dragon of Babylon, the very token of Marduk. Crowe, through his sick depravities and unholy magic, has managed to call this horror forth!”

As  I spoke, the horrendous Dragon -- with an horrifying sound as much an hiss as a roar -- continued to advance to-wards us!

And so, my friends and most patient readers, I wonder if you are capable of understanding the complete abject horror, forsooth the utter living nightmare of what we were then experiencing, there at that suburban New York mansion house. There we were, the lovely Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, Knight of the Eternal Spires. There we were, facing the evil Eliseus Crowe and his horrid cult, the Brotherhood of Marduk, that intended to violate that group of young girls as part of an ancient sex magical ceremony in order to renew their own youth. There we were; as the eldritch darksome powers of the infamous city of Babylon -- now manifest as the very Dragon of unholy darkness -- prevented us from  doing anything to prevent this unholy outrage!

“Begin the ceremony, my friends!” repeated the wicked Eliseus Crowe. “Nothing can stop us now! Take our young assistants and renew your very lives! Take the powers of youth as your own!”

I looked and saw the men beginning to shed their clothes as they prepared to commence an orgy of rape against the young girls who stood hypnotised with fear.

“Daniel, we’ve got to stop them!” Millie cried. “What can we do?!”

“Millie, take my hand,” I said. “Take my hand and tell me -- do you love me?”

I felt Millie’s dear little hand in mine as she spoke.

“Yes, Daniel,” she said. “I do love you. You know I love you more than life itself.”

“I love you too, my dear little Mills,” I said. “I love you with a love of purity and truth -- and by that most supreme power I do declare the fall of Babylon!”

Then a wondrous thing happened. From the Star of David I wore suddenly showed forth a dazzling light of pure whiteness; a light that soon filled the room.

“Baruch atah Adonai,” I invoked, “Elohenu melech ha-olam ha-aretz! By the power of Hashem, the God of Israel, I do break the forces of the false gods of Babylon, as did the Nevi’im of old! Marduk bows and is vanquished along with his followers!”

With my prayer, the white light then focused itself directly at the great red Dragon, hitting the horrid monstrosity directly on its head. The thing began to shake and writhe in pain and, within a few seconds, accompanied by a sound like unto an enormous hissing screech, it seemed to explode into countless black and red particles before then totally vanishing into nothingness.

The light then again widened, filling the room with its purity. I heard Eliseus Crowe shout and scream in indignant annoyance turning into absolute terror before he then vanished -- along with the other members of that rotten cult which is remembered in eternal infamy as the Brotherhood of Marduk.

Then, with a brief sound like unto the singing of an heavenly choir, the holy light slowly faded away.

I looked around the ballroom. Eliseus Crowe and his cult members had indeed vanished, and the evil had been exorcised. The young girls were unharmed, and stood by looking mystified as to what had occurred.

“Are you all right, my dear Mills?” I queried concernedly.

“Yes, I’m okay,” she replied. “What happened?”

“The power of the old Hebrew invocation, along with the purity of our love, defeated the demoniacal Dragon; it defeated the filth of Babylon; forsooth, the very filth of this world! The repulsive Eliseus Crowe and the Brotherhood of Marduk are no more, destroyed forevermore by the divine power before they could commit the unspeakable outrage that they intended.”

“But what about the girls?” asked Millie, looking around at the now confused group of kidnapped youngsters.

“I shall call our old friend Commissioner Hurley of the NYPD,” I announced. “He has the proper authority and connections that can relocate these children into safe and proper homes, as we can hope could happen to all who face such ungodly exploitation!”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

SWEET DELIGHTS

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos, and with the magical technology of the legendary Watchers of Algol, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

“So this is where our instruments at downtown HQ detected the energy reading?” enquired Millie Drake.

“Quite so, love,” I affirmed. “The ‘Sweet Delights’ ice cream shop.”

I was clad in my usual finery as we stood on the city pavement that overcast day; including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, and one of my favourite opera capes.

My companion, Miss Millie Drake, is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, and a sun-kissed complexion. The royal blue dress she wore only served to highlight her slender figure.

Also with us was Kit-10, our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or less than a small mechanical cat.

“And the energy is the type that would come from the old relic that was stolen?” Millie queried.

“Quite likely,” I confirmed, “for the energy is of the type associated with those ancient alien beings -- related to our own Algolite race -- known as Olympianoids; and the stolen relic is none other than the Sceptre of Zeus!”

“It's so horrible how it was taken from that old man who was murdered in his house.”

“Quite so. His name was Aaron Shapiro and he was a retired attorney, hmmm? The coroner’s report says he died of a broken neck, as if someone had just twisted his head so forcefully as to sever it clear through. The security system in his home had been mysteriously disabled, so the perpetrator remains unknown, but the only thing missing was the old Sceptre that the late Mr. Shapiro had once purchased whilst vacationing in Greece.”

“Gosh, do you think it really belonged to Zeus, the so-called ‘king of the gods’ in mythology?”

“In a sense, my dear. You see, the Sceptre of Zeus is a device carried by the supreme leader of the Olympianoids, who visited Earth during the Bronze Age and are remembered in myth as the Greco-Roman pantheon, in order to focus his mental powers into a stream of energy that could be utilised for purposes of defence and the punishment of any who disobeyed him. Kit-10, can you ascertain as to whether the Olympianoid type energies are indeed emanating from this ice cream establishment?”

“Scanning now, s--,” replied the robotic cat in her simulated yet pleasantly-feminine voice. “Results are affirmative. Energy waves are indeed the type associated with Olympianoid technology.”

(It must be noted here that Kit-10, in addition to her other feline characteristics, is completely unable to openly show respect to anyone. In point of fact, the closest she ever comes to it is by addressing me by a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir” -- and Millie by “m--” for “ma’am”.)

We had by now reached the doorway of the brightly decorated “Sweet Delights” dessert shop, and were about to enter when something of extreme eldritch terror occurred.

I heard Millie Drake cry, “Look out, Daniel!”

“Danger, s--!” added Kit-10.

I looked upwards to see what had so startled my companions, and beheld a hovering mass of phantasmagorical energy headed directly to-wards us. It was olive of hue and flashing with streaks of gold, and accompanied with a din as of the noise of roaring thunder. Kit-10 fired off several shots of her nose-laser, but it was to no avail. The strange flashing power continued to descend, a course that -- if not somehow deflected -- would soon collide with my friends and me!

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the horrific mass of energy vanished.

“What happened, Daniel?” asked Millie.

“That was indeed Olympianoid energy,” said I, “of the type associated with Zeus. Nevertheless, it was only a warning. When we face the criminal who purloined the Sceptre, and who has managed to activate and control its awesome abilities, its power will be far more devastating!”

“But we have to stop them!”

“Quite right, my dearest Mills. It is our mission. We must protect this planet and its people from the horrid fate that could await them at the hands of some occult terrorist controlling the Sceptre of Zeus! Come along, then.”

With this, my companions and I entered the ice cream shop and found our way through the patrons, including groups of children, enjoying their dessert treats amongst the loud pop music recordings being played over the establishment’s speakers. At first, all seemed normal, but we soon reach a doorway on which was written “Private Parties”. I opened the door and we entered to behold the very terror that we sought.

On one of the tables of the private room was a long petrified object with a golden top depicting a strange bird.

“The Sceptre of Zeus itself!” said I.

Standing behind the table was a man wearing a shiny black business suit with an long blood-red necktie. He appeared to be of middle years, his face showing handsome distinction despite being marred with the results of lifetimes of unspeakable evil. His hair was long and dark, and his visage decorated with a thin moustache and goatee beard. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute hypnotic glare.

“Well, Daniel Rumanos and Miss Drake,” he sneered, his very voice tinged with madness. “Once again you are attempting to interfere with my plans. I can assure you of failure in this.”

Of course, I recognised the man immediately. I recognised him as my most dangerous enemy; the renegade Algolite who has become the most wanted terrorist criminal in all of Time and Space.

“You!” I exclaimed. “Don Wingus. I should have known. So you did escape from Niorun, and it was you that stole the Sceptre of Zeus from the retired attorney and antiquities collector Aaron Shapiro -- brutally murdering him in the process!”

“Indeed,” boasted Wingus. “Elderly human necks snap so easily. Now, I shall use the powers of the very Sceptre of Zeus to augment my own Algolitish superiority -- that I may become ruler of this world!”

“Kit-10!” I called. “Blast him!”

The little robot shot off a ray of her laser, but a sudden rush of olive and gold coloured Olympianoid energy sprang up and deflected it away from Don Wingus, leaving him unharmed.

“You see, Rumanos?” said Wingus as the power increased around him. “The power of the Olympianoids is mine to command, and your interference will avail you nothing!”

“Wingus, you fiend!” I countered. “By the Daemonian Spires, I swear we shall not allow you to commit this outrage!”

I then attempted to step forwards in order to confront Don Wingus, but there was no hope in this. The awful thundering energies of the Sceptre of Zeus, now growing in power to truly epic proportions, were as unto an impassable barrier protecting him.

“I shall now take my rightful place amongst the gods!” exulted Don Wingus amongst peals of his own insane laughter. “I will rule this world from on high, and you shall not stop me!!”

Is it truly at all possible, my dear friends, that you can even commence to comprehend the sheer unhallowed horror, forsooth the total unnameable terror of what we were then experiencing? There we were; the lovely Millie Drake, the robotic Kit-10, and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. There we were, facing the unspeakable intergalactic criminal known to eternal infamy as Magister Don Wingus. There we were, as he unleashed the awesome godlike power of the legendary Sceptre of Zeus -- in truth the same incredible power that he intended to use in his mad scheme to become absolute tyrant ruler of the entire planet Earth!

“Witness my ascendancy, Rumanos!” reiterated the evil Don Wingus, “For today I shall take truly my place amongst the gods! Today I shall gain supreme power over this world!”

Then an odd thing occurred. The door of the private room opened, just for a moment, and a young boy looked in.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the lad, barely even noticing the oddities occurring. “I thought this was the bathroom.”

Then he closed the door. I looked and saw that Don Wingus had glanced over at the child with a look of annoyance on his face.

“Daniel,” said Millie to me, “the energies seem to have lessened some.”

“So I see, my dear,” said I. “So I see.”

I then stepped forwards, no longer completely hindered by the Olympianoid powers, and managed to land my fist on the face of Don Wingus. He staggered backwards from the blow. With this, Kit-10 then shot another blast of her nose-laser at Don Wingus, and this time it had its effect. Having lost control of the energies, he fell even further back, hitting the wall behind  him.

The thundering olive and gold Olympianoid powers had by now again grown in strength, but with a change of course. They were now heading directly to-wards the wicked Don Wingus!

“What!” he bellowed in outrage as the eldritch energy surrounded him. “No! You cannot do this to me! I command you! I am Don Wingus, the rightful ruler of all! I am… No! NO!!”

By now, the Olympianoid power had completely obliterated Wingus from view and its thundering cacophony then drowned out his cries of indignation and terror. Then, a few moments later, the energies suddenly vanished -- taking the villain with them.

I looked around. There was no sign of Don Wingus or of the Olympianoid powers. All was quiet except for the sounds of the ice cream shop coming from outside the private room.

“Daniel,” said Millie Drake, “what happened to him?”

“When that child opened the door seeking the restroom,” I explained, “it distracted Wingus enough that he weakened his concentration on controlling the energies from the Sceptre. This resulted in the powers turning upon him, and taking him out of this existence to a place of punishment for those who blaspheme the ‘gods of Olympus’, hmmm?”

“But what about the Sceptre of Zeus?”

I went over and touched the old relic as it lay motionless on the table.

“Kit-10?” I queried.

“Scanning now, s--,” said the computerised kitten. “Results show no evidence of residual energy present.”

“Quite right,” I said, putting the artefact safely in my jacket. “We can return the Sceptre to the late Mr. Shapiro’s heirs. This experience has drained the last of the Olympianoid powers from it, and the old relic can do no further harm.”

“Well that’s good!” cheered Millie as we left the private room into the main area of the Sweet Delights dessert shop.

“Before we go,” said I, “I shall purchase a round of ice cream for the entire house, hmmm? This includes that remarkable young chap who, although he shall never know it, aided in saving the world from unspeakable tyranny!”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN

NORDIC DREAMS

At a certain secret location near the New York Harbour a quite strange scene was being played out. It involved a man standing behind a table in a room that, though it gave some evidence of being a large one, appeared rather small due to most of it being lost in the shadows beyond the small candlelit area in which was the man.

On the table was an odd object, appearing to be made of metal unbelievably old, and shaped like the horn of that extinct species of animal known as the auroch. On it were a series of inscriptions in the runic alphabet once used by the people of the Nordic areas of Europe.

As for the man, dressed as he was in a black business suit with a long crimson necktie, he appeared to be of middle years with his countenance showing signs of handsome distinction despite being marred with the results of lifetimes of extreme unholy wickedness. His hair was long and dark, and his face decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute hypnotic glare.

“Now is the time,” he said to himself, his voice tinged with utter madness. “Now is the time that I shall come forth to take my rightful place as ruler of this world. The power of Niorun is mine, and I shall enter the very dreams of the people of Earth and bend them to my will!”

With this, an eldritch black energy began to issue forth from the old drinking horn, a power of ebon darkness that began to swirl around the area, accompanied with a sound like unto distant rumbles of approaching thunder.

“It is the power!” said the black-clad man. “It is the very power of the goddess Niorun, and it is mine to command. It is the force I shall wield to enslave every human being on this planet to my will!”

As he spoke, the phantasmal swirling power continued to grow in strength around him.

“Soon all will be mine,” he continued. “All will bow before me, and I -- Magister Don Wingus -- shall be lord of all!” …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos, and with the magical technology of the legendary Watchers of Algol, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

“So what was it that got stolen from the Nordic Heritage Museum?” enquired Millie Drake.

“It was a metallic drinking horn,” said I; “one from the age of the Vikings, hmmm? It has a series of runic inscription carved upon it that signify that it is sacred to Niorun, the Old Norse goddess of dreams.”

I was clad in my usual finery that night as we explored that area of docks along the harbour; including a  frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, Magen David necklace, and one of my favourite opera capes. I held the transonic mezuzah before me with its scanning mode activated.

My companion, Miss Millie Drake, walked beside me. She is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, enchanting violet eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The royal blue mini-dress she wore only served to highlight her slender figure.

Kit-10, our robotic cat friend, had stayed behind at our downtown headquarters to finish some electronic filing from our most recent cases.

“So Daniel,” said Millie, “was this Niorun one of the Wotanians, the aliens who became the gods of the Norse myths?”

“Quite likely,” I affirmed, returning the transonic to my jacket pocket. “The records of the era are fragmented, but it appears she was indeed a member of that powerful extraterrestrial race which is distantly related to our own Aeternusian ancestors. Niorun seems to have been a scientist involved in some kind of experiment involving the Earthlings. Apparently, she was attempting to find out if their psychic abilities could be amplified during sleep.”

As we talked, I was vaguely aware of a strange chattering sound coming from near by.

“But what does the drinking horn have to do with it?” asked Millie

“That was a later development,” I explained, “from after the Wotanians had left Earth. The cult of Niorun continued, and its devotees would become inebriated on mead as worship to the goddess. After a time, the horn itself built up a storage of residual mentalist energy due to the lingering results of Niorun’s experiments. Whomever purloined it from the museum is likely intending to make use of the Wotanian psychic force found therein. Now, according to my scan with the transonic, some power of the type is emanating from that abandoned warehouse, hmmm? We must see if…”

“Daniel, look out!” suddenly cried Millie.

I whirled around to see what had so alarmed my companion and beheld an horror indeed. It was a creature like unto a large muscular man, with most of his body covered with coarse orange hair. He was wearing an incongruous pair of colourful Bermuda shorts.

Before I could even react, the grotesque ape-man (for that is what he was) had his huge hairy hands around my throat!

The ape-man was incredibly strong, and I quickly found myself slipping into what would be unconsciousness if I could not soon break free of his grasp. Millie Drake attempted using her kung fu skills to kick the creature on the back of his head, but it was to no avail. He did not even seem to notice the blows, all the while continuing the strange chattering sound that was his only mode of speech.

I concentrated deeply and rallied my strength. Then, before the creature could succeed in strangling the life from me, I reached up and touched a certain pressure point on his shoulder, causing him to suddenly loosen his grip. I then managed to flip him down hard upon the concrete.

“Are you okay?” worried Millie.

“I am quite all right, my dear,” said I, examining the now-unconscious ape-man. “He will be out for a while, though."

“Daniel,” said Millie, “do you know what this thing is?”

“Let us just say that I recognise the type, hmmm?” I replied. “He is a native of a certain village in Borneo known for its orangutan prostitutes. As you know, we have seen similar hybrid creatures in the past being used as security guards by agents of Spectral Paranormal.”

“Oh my gosh!” Millie exclaimed. “So Spectral Paranormal stole the drinking horn? Daniel, do you think it could be…?”

“Now now, my dear Millie,” I admonished. “Let us not speculate; let us find out!”

We then entered the abandoned warehouse and, soon enough, found that which we were seeking. In the dimly lit interior we found an old table on which was the missing drinking horn, hoary with age but still resplendent with its metallic construction and runic carvings. Behind the table we beheld the figure of a dark-clad man.

“Greetings, Rumanos and Miss Drake,” he mocked, weird flashes of black energy around him. “I have been expecting you. You are just in time to witness my greatest triumph.”

Of course, I recognised him immediately. I recognised him as the most dangerous and wanted criminal in all of Time and Space, the renegade Algolite terrorist who has become my own greatest enemy.

“Don Wingus,” said I. “Of course. I should have known. The leader of Spectral Paranormal himself. So you did escape from the Club of Hercules, and it was you that so deftly robbed the Nordic Heritage Museum -- stealing this drinking horn of the cult of Niorun!”

“Indeed, you meddling spy for the Kosmikos,” replied Don Wingus. “The drinking horn is mine, and with it the powers of Niorun; powers that I shall use to enter the dreams of every human being on Earth and to bring them under my will -- that I may become supreme ruler of the world!”

“It was also you that sent that ape-man against us, hmmm?” I continued, ignoring his mad boasting. “Really, Wingus old chap. First a native of Borneo then a Nordic relic. It appears that you are getting rather multicultural these days.”

“I will have none of your flippancy, nor your interference!” announced Wingus. “I have gained the power of Niorun, and I shall use it to shred your very mind!”

“Wingus,” I countered, “you cannot control the Wotanian energies of Niorun. They are…”

“I can and will, Rumanos!” insisted Wingus. “I call them forth now to destroy you!!”

With this, the eldritch energies suddenly increased an hundred fold and, with a sound like unto an echoing clap of thunder, they headed directly to-wards Millie and me!

“Now, Rumanos and Miss Drake,” exulted the evil Don Wingus amidst peals of his utterly mad laughter. “You shall experience the Wotanian powers of Niorun; powers that I have augmented by my own Algolite superiority -- creating a force of energy fully capable of destroying you! You will die, Daniel Rumanos! Die! Die! Die!”

It occurs to me to wonder, my most appreciated readers, if you can even commence to comprehend the sheer ungodly terror, in sooth the extreme unmitigated horror of the situation in which we then found ourselves. There we were, the lovely Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos of Algol. There we were, facing the intergalactic felon known to eternal infamy as Don Wingus, who planned to utilise the psychic power of the stolen drinking horn of the cult of Niorun in his plan to rule the world. There we were -- as he unleashed the same darksome power directly at us!!

“Now you shall die, Rumanos!” repeated the villain. “You shall die by the power of Niorun, and I shall be free to establish myself as the supreme potentate of this world!”

The powers had hit us hard, their force more of the psychic than of the physical. In this, they caused a pain like unto the deepest depths of depression, a long-lingering trauma of utter horror that I knew would soon weaken us both beyond easy cure.

“Daniel,” Millie gasped, “I don’t think I can stand this.”

“Fight it, love,” I counselled, myself bristling from the mental pain. “Fight it. We must break free, and…”

Then an odd thing occurred. The ape-man, having recovered from his state of unconsciousness, suddenly bound into the area. He knelt down before Don Wingus and, with his subhuman chattering, began imploring the criminal for forgiveness for failing to keep us from entering the building.

“You brutish idiot!” bellowed Wingus in annoyance. “I have no time for your animalistic supplications! I must keep control of the power from the drinking horn, or…”

But it was already too late for Don Wingus. The darkling Wotanian powers had by now shifted -- no longer attacking Millie Drake and me but in stead heading directly to-wards the evil Wingus himself!

“No!” cried Wingus in sudden terror. “You cannot do this to me! I am Don Wingus, the rightful ruler of worlds! I am the one who should command this power! I am…! No! No!! Nooooooooo!!”

The powers grew ever stronger, with a din like unto a raging thunderstorm. They completely surrounded Don Wingus and the ape-man, soon hiding them from sight. Then, with one final roar of noise, the energy vanished -- taking with it the evil Don Wingus and his hairy henchman!

I glanced around the interior of the abandoned warehouse. All was quiet, and there was no sign of the horrors we had experienced. The drinking horn itself now lay upon the table like unto the harmless old artefact that it actually was.

“Are you all right, my dear Mills?” I enquired concernedly.

“Yes, I’m okay now,” she affirmed “What happened?”

“When the ape-man distracted Wingus, the Niorun power turned upon him in its full force. The resulting clash took them out of this reality, to a place of darkness and non-existence. I did try to warn him, hmmm? The Niorun powers are far too chaotic, due to the nature of the Wotanians. Although part of the Aeternusian heritage, they chose not the ways of philosophy like did the Algolites and the later Olympianoids. They were always warlike and frenzied in their dealings amongst themselves and with others. Even in their scientific endeavours, they were aggressive and antagonistically violent.”

“But what about the drinking horn?”

I did a quick scan of the horn with my transonic. “This experience has drained the last of the residual power from it. The horror is finished, and it will now be safe to return the old relic to the Nordic Heritage Museum.”

***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN