PAPARAZZI

“The NY9 Club,” said I. “So called due to its address number. It used to just be what is known as a ‘dive bar’, but recently has taken to hosting these ‘Goth Night’ events, hmmm?”

“And this is where our equipment at headquarters detected the strange energy emissions?” enquired Millie Drake.

“Quite so,” I replied. “Energy that was elusive in its identity, hence us coming here tonight to investigate in person!”

I was clad in my usual finery as we approached the nightclub on that city street; including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, and one of my favourite opera capes. My Star of David necklace glittered under the street lamps.

My companion, Miss Millie Drake, is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with hair of a rich chestnut hue, enchanting violet eyes, and a sun-kissed complexion. Her bright orange dress 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.

“So, Daniel,” said Millie, “what do we know about who runs this ‘Goth Club’ thing?”

“Kit-10,” I said, “what information do you have in your database about the owner of the NY9 Club Goth Night?”

“Accessing, s--,” replied the robotic feline in her simulated yet pleasantly-feminine voice. “The owner is known by the name ‘Natasha DuNoir’. Twenty-five years of age. Also a vocalist in an obscure rock music band called ‘Cemetery Sex’. Known for her fetishes involving gothic fashion and popular occultism.”

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

“Well, that sounds disgusting,” shuddered Millie Drake in response to Kit-10’s description of Natasha DuNoir.

“Quite so, my dear Mills,” I agreed. “Quite so. Necrophilia and bad dress sense, hmmm? Then on top of that this DuNoir person has somehow managed to get an attachment of some kind of elusive dark energy. It appears we are here not a moment too soon.” …

Little did my companions and I know, as we approached the club, that we were being watched from a near by car, nondescript as the older model vehicle was. The man watching us was also rather nondescript; forty years of age, with sandy hair and common features, wearing a grey sweatshirt and tan slacks. His name was Johnny Molin, and the digital camera he wore on a cord about his neck marked him as a member of the paparazzi, those freelance photographers known to follow celebrities and public figures, hoping to capture some moment of scandal that they can sell to the tabloid news media.

“Holy crap!” he exclaimed as he watched us entering the NY9 Club. “It’s that Doctor Rumanos character! I thought I might get something interesting if I hung around this ‘gothic rock night’ bull, but this is great! They say he’s involved in the paranormal or satanic cults or somethin’ like that! He has that girl with him too that used to be an actress! I’ve hit the friggin’ jackpot!” …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. With the heritage of the legendary Watchers of Algol, whose technology appears as magic, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

Millie, Kit-10, and I entered the NY9 Club, my superior mentalist abilities making the big door bouncer ignore us. We continued onwards to investigate the establishment.

It was a fairly small club, decorated as one would expect for the “Goth Night”, with rubber bats and dark lighting. There were a few drunken patrons dancing badly to the synthesised music.

“Daniel,” said Millie, “look at that.”

I looked over to what my friend had indicated and beheld an horror. Amongst the lighting of the nightclub I beheld the presence of swirling dark strips of ebon energy, drifting about the establishment.

“By the Triple Star!” I swore. “Kit-10, can you analyse the nature of that energy?”

“Accessing, s--,” replied the robot. “Energy field is identified as belonging to a type known to emanate from an ancient order of being, one of the types commonly referred to as 'elementals’, that once existed in the area of West Africa. It is remembered by religious legends of the area by the name ‘Juju’.”

“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Millie. “The Black Juju! We encountered their powers before!”

“Yes,” I remembered, “and were only able to defeat it by use of an ancient Hebrew prayer. In order for even that to be effective here, we shall have to find out who is channelling the Juju powers. It is most likely a case of possession, and…”

“Danger detected, s--” suddenly interrupted Kit-10. “Danger.”

“Daniel!” cried Millie Drake. “Oh my goodness!”

I whirled around to see what had so startled my companions. The Juju energy had suddenly coalesced into an huge mass, a black pulsating horror that hovered several metres above the floor -- and which was heading directly for us!

Then, as soon as it appeared, the darksome power vanished.

“What happened, Daniel?” asked Millie Drake.

“It was simply an outward show of bravado by the Juju,” I pondered. “When the Juju power manifests here at its full intensity, it will be far beyond that!”

Then, from the backroom of the club, a woman came forth, clad in ebony-coloured “Goth” attire from head to toe. Her face was animalistic and smeared with grotesque makeup, and her hair hung in greasy braids from her horrid head.

“Hello, Doctor Rumanos and friends,” she sneered. “I am Natasha DuNoir. It’s no surprise seeing you here. I’ve been told in the occult underground about your meddling and interference in our scene. That ends tonight, Doctor. The power at my command is beyond anything you can exorcise!”

At this pronouncement, and before we could even react to her presence, the Juju powers suddenly came forth in earnest, all around Natasha DuNoir and growing greatly in intensity. …

By now, the paparazzi known as Johnny Molin had entered and was arguing with the bouncer.

“No, I need to see some ID,” said the big door man. “I don’t care how old you look, sir, it’s the rules here.”

“Oh for chrissakes,” swore Molin, hunting in his pocket for his wallet. “Okay, here it is.”

The bouncer glanced at Johnny Molin’s state-issued driving licence and then motioned him in, warning him not to bother the other customers with his camera. …

“My power is supreme!” continued the sickening Natasha DuNoir. “It’s power I will use to make myself queen of the world!”

“That is ridiculous, DuNoir,” I countered. “The energy within you, which you have undoubtedly invoked and enhanced with some type of indecent sexual rite, is known as the Juju and…”

“I won’t listen to any of your elitist talk, Doctor Jew!” screeched the repugnant woman. “My power is something you want to steal, just like you people steal everything! But you will now learn, as I use this power to destroy you!”

It was then that the odious Natasha DuNoir released the full force of the enhanced Juju power upon us. It came at us like a searing wave of horror that threatened to undo our very being.

“It’s too late for you now, Doctor!” DuNoir added. “You and your friends are done, and I will be queen of this world!!”

Do you understand the very depths of utter and complete horror in which we found ourselves, there at the NY9 Club Goth Night? There we were, the lovely Miss Millie Drake, the robotic Kit-10, and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, alien secret agent and Knight of the Eternal Spires. There we were, facing the completely insane and Juju-possessed woman known to eternal shame as Natasha DuNoir. There we were, as she unleashed the full force of the occult power within her -- the same darksome energy she intended using in her bid to make herself ruler of the human race!

“You will now die by the powers I have!” she repeated in utter madness. “You will be dead, and I will be free to become queen of the world!”

The Juju power had by now completely surrounded Millie, Kit-10, and me, its darkling energies causing us confusion and pain as they swirled in an ebony maelstrom of savage occult terror.

“Daniel,” said Millie, “I don’t think I can fight it much longer. It’s just... so terrible... the things it puts in my mind!”

“I know, Millie,” I replied, “but we must resist. We must fight off the Juju power and resist so we can save the world from this horrible creature known as Natasha DuNoir!”

I heard the sickening DuNoir still cackling insanely. “You cannot beat me, Doctor Rumanos! I'm going to show that I’m better than you! I already have this club and my band, and soon I'll have this planet too!!”

By now the occult power had almost brought Millie and me to our knees, and even Kit-10 was literally spinning in circles, her circuitry confused by the dark energies.

Then something exceedingly bizarre occurred. The would-be celebrity photographer known as Johnny Molin had made it over to our location. He raised his camera and started snapping off shots, each accompanied by a blinding flash of light.

“Oh yeah!” exclaimed Molin. “This is even better than I expected! I can see the headlines now! ‘Satanism and Black Magic at NYC Nightclub’! They’ll pay me a fortune for these shots!”

At this, Natasha DuNoir turned away from us and looked at Johnny Molin with disdain on her bestial face. At the same time, I noticed that the Juju energy was lessening in its attack on us.

“Kit-10!” I called. “Blast her!”

The robotic cat, recovering from her system problems, then fired a shot of her nose-laser directly at Natasha DuNoir, hitting the loathsome woman directly in her midsection. She staggered back several paces and looked back in fear at the Juju powers.

“Baruch Hashem,” I prayed, taking Millie‘s hand. “Baruch Hashem.”

With this, the full power of the Juju reversed its course and headed directly to-wards Natasha DuNoir. Within moments, it had completely surrounded the darksome female, enveloping her in its embrace of eldritch horror beyond all endurance. We heard her give one long scream of terror and pain before she then simply vanished along with the energies.

I looked around. There was no sign of the Juju power, and the nauseating Natasha DuNoir was also no more. Johnny Molin had left the club, unharmed and happy with his photography.

“Are you all right, Millie?”I enquired concernedly.

“Yes, I’m okay now,” she assured me. “What happened?”

“The flashbulb going off distracted Natasha DuNoir,” I explained, “causing her to lose her control over the Juju. It naturally turned upon her -- with a little help from my prayer -- and the resultant clash has taken her with the Juju into another realm of reality, where she can do no more harm.”

“Well, that’s good!” cheered Millie. “She was a repulsive person anyway.”

“Quite so,” I agreed wholeheartedly. “Quite so, indeed. My friends, our work here is finished. Fortunately, the club’s rather intoxicated patrons seem to have barely noticed the melee. I will speak to Commissioner Hurley at the NYPD about having the place condemned. As for us, we can stop and pick up some deli before returning to headquarters. Good shooting, by the way, Kit-10.”

“Of course, s--,” replied the little robot.

“But what about that photographer guy?” Millie questioned.

“Oh, the paparazzi type?” I mused. “Worry not about him. The very nature of the energy projected by the Juju will cause his camera to have malfunctioned, hmmm? The photos will not turn out, and there will be no tabloid expose to frighten the public. It will be like my old friend, Captain GM Spaulding the African Explorer, told me about when he took some pictures of the native girls.”

“What about them?” queried Millie as she, Kit-10, and I exited the nightclub.

“They were not developed,” I replied.

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

THE COCOANUTS

“The Cocoanuts Resort Hotel,” said I whilst my companion and I explored the corridors. “It, along with the adjoining golf course and tennis courts, was built in 1929 as part of the Florida land boom.”

“And this is where the strange energy readings were detected as coming from?” asked Millie Drake.

“Quite so,” I affirmed; “the energy readings matching those that would emit from the old relic stolen from the wealthy businessman Julius Mardocheus in near by Palm Beach, hmmm? The energy from the artefact known as the Ancile!”

I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, and one of my favourite opera capes. My Magen David pendent hung from its chain around my neck.

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 dress she wore only served to highlight her slender figure.

We had arrived in the Palm Beach International Airport on our private jet plane in order to investigate the theft of the Ancile. Our instruments had quickly detected a strange energy emission coming from the Cocoanuts and we had gone there immediately, checking in as guests in order to conceal our undercover mission. It was now late at night, and the hotel corridors were mostly quiet as we delved into the mystery.

Kit-10, our catlike robot friend, had stayed behind to finish overseeing some electronic upgrades to our New York City headquarters.

“So, Daniel,” said Millie, “the ‘Ancile’ is actually something from ancient Rome?”

“So it appears, my dear,” I confirmed. “The Ancile is a shield said to have fallen from the heavens during the reign of King Numa. It became a symbol of the Roman power for many generations, until it was lost during the barbarian invasions.”

“So this artefact that Mr. Mardocheus had in his collection may be it?”

“It is just possible, especially now that we see these energy emissions that are exactly of the type that the actual Ancile would generate; it being a relic of the technology of the Olympianoids, that immensely powerful alien race -- related to our own Algolite people -- that visited Earth during the Bronze Age and became the ‘gods‘ of the ancient Greeks and Romans.”

I took the transonic mezuzah, an highly advanced scientific instrument, from the pocket of my jacket and used it to scan the area.

“By the Daemonian Spires!” I swore upon reading the resultant information from the device. “The Olympianoid energy reading seems to be coming from a secret cellar beneath the hotel!”

“Why would it be secret, Daniel?” enquired Millie.

“Such buildings in this area do not generally have basements or cellars, hmmm?” I explained. “They would too often get flooded.”

“We need to get down there right away!” announced my companion.

“Quite so, my dear Mills,” I agreed, returning the transonic to my pocket. “Nevertheless, do show caution. Whomever could so deftly steal this relic, overriding the security system at Julius Mardocheus’s estate, and then manage to activate the ancient powers of the Ancile must be someone of quite an advanced level of both technical knowledge and psychic ability. Despite its rather posh resort location, this is turning out to be a dangerous mission, indeed!” …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. With the heritage of the legendary Watchers of Algol, whose technology appears as magic, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

Millie Drake and I found our way to the hotel’s ground floor and searched for an entrance to the secret cellar. We located it soon enough, behind an old full-length framed photo portrait of President Herbert Hoover, who had stayed at the hotel in its early days. We carefully pulled back the picture and opened the creaking doorway it had so long obscured.

As we entered the musty corridor this revealed, we noticed it was lit by a series of sconces containing candles; this, along with footprints on the dusty floor denoting that the area had recently been entered by someone.

“Daniel,” said Millie, “look at that.”

I looked upwards and beheld what the young lady was indicating. In the air before us were flashes of a strange blood-red radiance that seemed to dance a challenge at our approach.

“Olympianoid energy,” I informed. “We are indeed near the location of the Ancile.”

We went on, and soon found that which we sought. On an old table was the ancient ornate shield known as the Ancile, hoary with age but still commanding of aspect. Behind the table stood two figures, one male and one female.

The man appeared to be of middle years, dressed in a black silk suit with a long red necktie. His face showed signs of handsome distinction despite being marred with the results of lifetimes of extreme and unhallowed evil. His hair was long and dark, and his countenance decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute hypnotic glare.

Beside him behind the table was an insanely voluptuous young girl with raven hair, pale skin, luminous blue-green eyes, and a mouth painted like unto an inviting scarlet gash. She was completely nude.

Of course, I recognised them immediately. I recognised the man as my oldest and most dangerous enemy -- the renegade Algoloite who has become the most wanted criminal in all of Creation -- and the girl as his whorish offspring.

It was Don Wingus and his daughter!

“You!” I exclaimed. “Of course. Don Wingus. I should have known. So you did escape from the Moon, and reunited with your daughter Anastasia to purloin the Ancile from the estate of Mr. Julius Mardocheus.”

“Oh of course, Rumanos, you old meddler,” he countered, his voice tinged with utter madness. “We have been expecting you and your little assistant. Your interference will accomplish nothing, for I have already used my Algolitish mental powers to activate the Olympianoid energy stored within the Ancile. These energies are at my command, and I shall use them to establish a domain over this world even greater than the Rome of yore -- a realm where I will be honoured not simply as a king or even an emperor -- but as the very deity as which I deserve to be known. I -- Magister Don Wingus -- will now be known to the entire human race as a god!”

“Wingus, you are as utterly mad as you are blasphemous,” I charged. “You cannot control the power from the Ancile. Even the Olympianoids had problems with the powers evoked by their technology. Now it is ancient and unreliable, its methods of utilisation having remained dormant for all these many millennia and thus becoming corrupt, yet of immense force that make it beyond any known danger.”

“You are wrong, Rumanos!” countered the criminal whilst the red energies began to grow around him. “You are wrong, and I shall now demonstrate my expertise in wielding the very force of the Olympianoids that I have activated from the Ancile; the force that I shall use to conquer this world -- and the force that I shall first use to destroy you!!”

With this, the blood-red power suddenly burst forwards directly at Millie Drake and me, hitting us hard with a power far more than any physical force. It was a power that seemed to sear into the very essence of our souls.

“Feel the power of the Ancile!” exulted the evil Don Wingus. “Feel the power! Feel it as it destroys your existence and takes you and your meddling ways out of all reality! Feel the power that will now bring your death!”

Do you, my most appreciated readers, even begin to recognise and understand the utter and complete horror, forsooth the most unholy terror of what we were then experiencing? There we were, the lovely Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, Knight of the Eternal Spires. There we were, in that dark secret cellar underneath the Florida hotel known as the Cocoanuts, facing the interstellar criminal known as Magister Don Wingus and his dangerously-seductive daughter Anastasia. There we were, as Wingus fully released the power of the ancient Roman relic known as the Ancile upon us -- power that he intended to utilise to bring about our destruction before going on to employ it in his planned conquest of the world!

“You will now die, Rumanos and Miss Drake!” repeated the maniacal Wingus. “You will now die, and I shall go on to conquer this very planet! I shall go on, with the power of the Ancile, to bend all to my will and to make myself the god of this world!”

The Olympianoid energy that Wingus had pulled from the Ancile continued to pummel Millie Drake and me. It caused extreme pain -- in sooth a pain not only physical but one that indeed seemed to reach inwards to the deepest parts of our very being.

“Fight it, Millie,” I counselled. “Resist the power with the virtue of our most noble aspect. Fight it with thoughts of all that is good and pure and true.”

“I’m trying, Daniel,” she gasped. “But the power has been so corrupted, it…”

By now, both Millie and I were near unconsciousness from the barrage of pain brought upon by the Olympianoid energy, coupled with the effects of our own attempt to fight it. I felt myself slipping into what I knew would be sensual oblivion.

Then, just before consciousness left us, from within the swirling maelstrom of the corrupted Ancile energy, Millie and I heard the voice of Anastasia Wingus.

“Please, father, no!” she pleaded. “Please don’t kill Doctor Rumanos! I’ve already told you how much I want him. Can’t you let him live so I can have him as mine when you are god of this world? Please, father? Please do that for me! Please?!”

“Stacy, you shameless skirt!” bellowed Don Wingus in anger whilst slapping his daughter hard across the mouth. “I am so utterly sick and tired of your ridiculous crush on Daniel gods-damned Rumanos! I will not tolerate it anymore! Do you hear me, you little bitch? Do you hear me?!”

“Daniel,” said Millie Drake, “can you feel that? The energy assault is lessening.”

“Indeed so,” I replied. “Wingus’s control over it has been weakened by his distraction, hmmm?”

I then managed to step forwards and deliver a blow of my fist directly to the face of the evil Don Wingus, sending him hurtling to the floor.

“Stand clear, Millie!” I directed, “Stay away from the energies and watch what happens.”

We hurried away from the centre of the maelstrom and, within moments, the swirling Olympianoid power had completely changed it focus, surrounding Don Wingus and his daughter.

“No!” shouted Don Wingus in outrage and sudden fear. “No! You cannot do this to me! I am Don Wingus, the rightful god of this world! You cannot… ! No! Noooooooo!!”

Then the blood-red energies just blinked out of existence, taking the two villains with it.

“Well, that is the end of that, hmmm?” I mused. “Are you all right, Millie?”

“Yes, I’m okay now,” she replied, “but what happened to them?”

“The power of the Ancile has performed one final wonder in defence of the Roman legacy,” I explained. “It quite naturally turned on the ones who had attempted to misuse it, and has taken Wingus and Anastasia away to the very Tartarus of mythology -- the inter-dimensional prison where the enemies of the Olympianoids are imprisoned and punished forever.”

“But what about the old shield itself?” queried Millie.

I took the transonic device out of my jacket and utilised it to scan the ancient artefact, then looking at the resultant readings.

“The last of the residual energy has been drained from the Ancile,” I announced whilst returning the transonic mezuzah to my jacket pocket. “I shall telephone Mr. Mardocheus immediately as he requested, and inform him that the relic can now be safely returned to his antique collection. Then, you and I can avail ourselves of the Cocoanuts Resort Hotel’s breakfast buffet before jetting off back to New York, hmmm?”

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

MASTER OF THE MOON

Of the inhabitants of the Moon little is known to Earthling science. This is due to the said inhabitants of Earth’s natural satellite being rather reclusive beings, living as they do in a system of caves and tunnels within the Moon, which contain pockets of enough air for organic beings to survive.

Of these species of Moon creatures there are three, each of unique origin. The first are a humanoid species known as Moonites. Shrunken and dwarfish, they feed on an energy source found near the very centre of the satellite.

The second are known as Selenites, and are an intelligent insect species related to the better-known insectoid inhabitants of the planet Mars.

The third, known by the name of Lunarians (it should be noted that the names of the three species have often been confused), are the most mysterious of all. They are a type of semi-corporeal being, somewhat human of shape but a glistening silver of hue. Having developed advanced science, including Space travel, they nevertheless maintain their reclusive ways, at least for the most part.

There have been incidents, profoundly rare and little reported as they are, of some certain adolescent members of the Lunarian race drifting down to Earth and interacting with humankind. This is a rather dangerous thing, and humans should be thankful of its rarity, since the Lunarians possess rather highly developed psychic or mentalist abilities, and even their youngest offspring can easily detect the thoughts of Earthlings.

The mental powers of these young Lunarians, coupled with the naiveté of their youth, would also make them ripe for exploitation by any being advanced enough and yet at the same time unscrupulous enough to attempt such a thing. Fortunately for the safety and sanity of those upon Earth and other worlds, there are few beings in existence who would envisage such an horrid agenda, while at the same time having the ability to possibly carry out such a crime

In fact, I only know of one such incident in all of history. …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. With the heritage of the legendary Watchers of Algol, whose technology appears as magic, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

The Full Moon shone down its argent leprous light over the fields just outside the town of Tuxedo, New York, as we arrived. I was driving my specially-modified canary-coloured Edwardian roadster, affectionately known as “Lizzie”. I parked the car at the centre of the grassy field and my companion and I got out.

I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, my 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 pink dress she wore only served to highlight her slender figure.

Our catlike personal computer, the robotic Kit-10, had stayed behind at headquarters to finish some electronic filing tasks.

“So this is where our systems at HQ detected the presence of Lunarians?” queried Millie.

“Quite so,” I affirmed as we investigated the field area. “You remember the last time we encountered them, of course. It turned out to just be some young ones out for a joyride in the family spaceship, hmmm?”

“Do you think that’s what it is this time, Daniel?”

“More than likely, my dear Mills. There is no other likely reason why Lunarians would visit Earth. They are far too reclusive. Nevertheless, we must investigate for safety’s sake.”

I took the transonic mezuzah from my pocket and used it to scan the area.

“By the Triune Star!” I swore. “That is quite odd. My scan indeed shows the presence of numerous Lunarians, but they are intentionally hiding themselves.”

“Why would they do that?” my companion enquired.

I changed the setting on the transonic and pointed to-wards the Moon for a moment before returning the device to my pocket. “For no good reason that I can think of. It is as if…”

“Daniel, look!” cried Millie.

I looked around to see what had so startled the young lady and beheld some weirdness indeed. Suddenly surrounding us were at least a score or so silvery shapes, slim and vaguely humanoid of form, shimmering all around us in the darkness of the night.

“Lunarians,” I confirmed, “and they are not alone. Look over there!”

Approaching us through the group of iridescent Lunarians was a man clad in a black silk business suit with a long blood-red necktie. He appeared to be of middle years, his face still handsome and distinctive despite bearing the marks of lifetimes of extreme unmitigated 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.

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

“Greetings, Rumanos,” he mocked. “My Lunarian comrades and I have been expecting you. They are totally devoted to me, and I shall use their combined psychic powers to conquer this world and many others. I -- Don Wingus -- am the Master of the Moon!”

“You!” I exclaimed. “Of course. I should have known. So you did escape from Kuthalu, and have used your own Algolitish powers to bend these young Lunarians to your control, hmmm?”

“Exactly, Rumanos,” returned the criminal. “I have combined my vastly superior mind with theirs, thus creating a force beyond mortal reckoning -- a force that shall be irresistible when I turn it to conquest of all!”

“Wingus, you are utterly and irredeemably mad! This is a criminal action beyond belief. These Lunarians are barely adolescents amongst their own race. For you to so influence and exploit them is akin to psychic rape.”

“Oh, listen to you with your petty moralist dogmas, you spy and professional assassin for the Kosmikos. I have had more than enough of your meddling, do you hear? I have had more than enough of you, Daniel Rumanos, and now I shall display my powers over these Moon creatures by compelling them against you and your little companion!”

“Daniel,” Millie cried. “They’re coming closer, and I can feel them entering my thoughts!”

“Resist it, Mills,” I told my companion as the psychic attack turned on me as well. “Resist it with all that you can. The Lunarian mind-power augmented with the will of Wingus is indeed powerful, but we must resist!”

The score of Lunarians was by now fully engaged in attacking our minds, with a power that seemed well-nigh omnipotent. Despite our struggle, Millie and I felt our very thoughts were no longer our own as the pain of their forceful mentalist penetration became more and more intense.

“There is no escape now,” announced Don Wingus amongst peals of his sick insane laughter. “There is no escape for you meddling fools. The Lunarians that are under my command will now destroy your very minds!”

Is it even at all possible that you can see the extreme unholy terror, forsooth the total unnameable horror and complete ungodly fear of the horrendous situation in which we then found ourselves, my dear readers? There we were, the lovely Miss Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, alien secret agent and stellar swashbuckler. There we were, facing the evil intergalactic criminal known to eternal infamy and everlasting damnation as Magister Don Wingus -- himself the most felonious being in all the known Universe -- along with his assembled company of Lunarians which he intended to utilise in his mad scheme to conquer the planet Earth before going forth to also establish himself as emperor of countless other worlds. There we were, as Wingus commanded the young Lunarians to use their advanced mentalist powers to attack the very minds of my companion and me  -- we being the only thing he saw standing in the way of his insane plans!

“Take them, my Lunarian comrades!” ordered the madman. “Take them and enter into their very thoughts, invading all that they hold most secret. Drive them to utter mental collapse that they may not interfere with our conquest of this and other worlds!”

The mental powers of the Lunarians entered our minds further and further, sifting through our thoughts and dreams and hopes and fears.

“Fight it, Millie,” I counselled. “Do not let them into your deepest mind, or all will be lost.”

“I’m trying, Daniel,” she sobbed. “There are just so many of them!”

“It is hopeless, Rumanos and Miss Drake,” exulted the wicked Don Wingus. “You cannot resist the combined power of my Lunarians. You have no chance of breaking free of them! Then, I shall be… What! What is that?!”

Above us, at that very moment, had appeared an huge spherical vehicle, accompanied by the sound of its engine, a whining sound so high as to be barely audible to organic hearing.

“What is this outrage?” said an authoritatively masculine voice issuing forth from the spaceship. “Who has exploited these young citizens of the Moon that it is my task to protect? I am -- The Grand Selemoonarian.”

Millie and I then felt the Lunarian psychic powers leaving their invasion of our minds.

“Daniel,” whispered my companion, recovering from the pain of the psychic assault, “is that who you sent that signal to; the one when you pointed the transonic to-wards the Moon?”

“Indeed so, my dear Millie,” I verified. “The Grand Selemoonarian is an highly-advanced artificial intelligence program that the three races inhabiting the Moon have agreed to use as a form of law enforcement; not only amongst themselves -- but against any being that attempts to attack or exploit them!”

By now, the group of shimmering Lunarians had drifted upwards to vanish into the ship.

“They will be returned to their families and counselled against any further unauthorised trips to Earth,” explained the voice. “As for the one who attempted their subjugation, his punishment must be more severe.”

“You cannot ‘punish’ me!” bellowed the villain, his outrage attempting to mask his fear. “I am Don Wingus of Algol, the rightful ruler of worlds. You cannot… You… !”

Something like a silver chain, barely existing in the physical realm yet of great effect, had surrounded Don Wingus entirely, silencing him and imprisoning his movements.

“You will be incarcerated in our non-physical detention centre,” announced the Selemoonarian, “from which there is no escape.”

Then, before he could even protest further, the felonious Don Wingus blinked out of existence.

“Many thanks to you, Agents of Algol,” continued the voice, “for alerting us to this infraction against the harmony of the Moon.”

“You are quite welcome, good sir,” I replied. “I bid you, and all inhabitants of the Lunar realm, peace and tranquillity.”

With this the silver spherical space ship ascended quickly through the atmosphere, soon being lost to our sight.

“So Daniel,” said Millie Drake, “do you think the prison he spoke of will be able to hold Don Wingus?”

“We shall see, love,” I replied. “The Absolute Convention of the Watchers will be contacted to monitor the situation, hmmm? In any event, for all intents and purposes that non-corporeal prison will be for Wingus as if he does not exist.”

We had by now returned to our car, and I started up the motor.

“As for now,” I continued, “I know of an all-night diner near here where we can get some breakfast, hmmm?”

“Pancakes and turkey bacon?” smiled Millie.

“Of course, my dear," I approved as we drove off under the moonlight, “along with some highly-caffeinated coffee.”

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

ARABIAN NIGHT

“Now we are just waiting for the computer tracking system to locate the energy source,” I said. “It is taking longer than usual, due to the elusiveness of the signal type.”

“But you say the energy trace had to do with the Necronomicon?” enquired Millie Drake.

“Not precisely,” I returned. “It was very specifically a reading indicating the use of the ‘Kitab al-Azif’, the medieval Arabian book of sorcery that is said to be the earlier and even more potent source of the better-known Necronomicon.”

We were at our secret downtown headquarters, located as it is within the golden trapezoidal rooftop of a certain skyscraper, the ground floor of which is a take-away pizza establishment. Our HQ contains, along with our advanced electronic equipment, a growing collection of unusual objects and artefacts from our storied career as investigators of the strange and unknown.

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

My companion, known as Miss Millie Drake, is an exquisitely 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 a small mechanical cat.

“Daniel, I know that ‘Kitab’ means a book in Arabic,” said Millie, “but what does ‘al-Azif’ mean?”

“Literally ‘a buzzing’,” I informed. “It is said to describe a sound like unto that of nocturnal insects, the hearing of which noise is said to indicate the presence of certain demonic forces.”

“So this book is definitely a manual of demon conjuring?”

“Quite so, my dear. In fact it is one of the most notorious occult texts in all of history. If someone has truly located it and is utilising its spells, then it is imperative that we stop them as soon as possible. Millie, the Kitab al-Azif is supposedly the text that can be used to most potently conjure the inter-dimensional being known as Kuthalu!”

“Oh my gosh! Kuthalu is the alien monster that ruled planet Earth for untold ages during prehistoric times!”

“Indeed so, and now if someone manages to bring that unspeakable horror back to this dimension, it could subjugate or wipe out the entire human race! We must find out who…”

“S--,” suddenly interrupted Kit-10 in her simulated yet pleasantly-feminine voice, “the main computer has found the location of the energy reading detected earlier.”

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

“Put it on the main screen, please,” I said.

A map soon appeared on the large central monitor. It showed a certain location along with the parameters of the signal detected there.

“By the Triple Star!” I swore. “The energy of the Kitab al-Azif magic is coming from a crypt at St. Mary’s Episcopal Cemetery!”

“We need to get over there right away!” announced Millie Drake.

“Indeed we do, love,” said I whilst fetching my hat and cloak. “Come along, Mills and Kit-10. For the sake of the very future of this planet, we must do whatever is necessary to stop the conjuration of Kuthalu!” …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. With the heritage of the legendary Watchers of Algol, whose technology appears as magic, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

Night had fallen over the city as Millie Drake, Kit-10, and I arrived at the St. Mary’s Cemetery. I parked our car (a specially-modified canary-yellow Edwardian roadster affectionately known as “Lizzie’) at the gates and we entered the graveyard on foot.

“Kit-10,” I said, “are your systems detecting the Azif energy?”

“Accessing,” replied the robotic cat. “Affirmative. Energy detected within the large stone structure ahead of our current location.”

“The crypt!” said Millie. “That’s where someone is attempting to call Kuthalu.”

“So it appears, my dear Mills,” I stated. “Be cautious, but let us continue. We must find out who is committing this outrage and stop them before it is too late for the human race!” …

Little did we know, as we investigated St. Mary’s Cemetery, that we were being watched from someone hidden as much by witchcraft as she was by the tombstones. It was an insanely-buxom young brunette clad in only a shiny black bikini. Her eyes were a luminous blue-green, and her mouth painted like unto an inviting scarlet gash. She smiled wickedly and then ran undetected into the large central crypt, the interior of which was already aglow with an eldritch ebon effulgence.

“Father,” she said. “They’re here!”

The man she was addressing stood behind a stone coffin that was being used as a satanic altar, and was dressed in a black vestment robe. He appeared to be a man of middle years, his face still showing handsome distinction despite being marked with the signs of lifetimes of extreme ungodly evil. His hair was long and dark and his countenance was decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his pale eyes shone with an absolute hypnotic glare as he turned the pages of a large book bound in black leather and containing an archaic Arabic script.

“I am not surprised, Anastasia,” said the man, a look of unmitigated madness on his countenance. “I knew that meddling Daniel Rumanos could not resist poking his enormous nose into my affairs. But it matters not. I have the Kitab al-Azif, and I shall use it to bring forth the mighty Kuthalu, that it may assist me and destroy all that would oppose my plans. Then I -- Magister Don Wingus -- shall become the supreme ruler of this and countless other worlds!” …

My friends and I entered the crypt and soon enough beheld what we were seeking. Standing behind a stone coffin on which were two black candles and an ancient book bound in leather were two figures. One was a girl clad in only a bikini, and the other was a man in an ebony vestment robe who glared at me with a look of unmitigated evil on his face.

“Greetings, Rumanos and company,” he mocked. “My little cutie here and I have been expecting you.”

Of course, I recognised the man immediately. I recognised him as the criminal renegade of my own Algolite race who has become the most wanted villain in all the Universe, and my own oldest and most bitter enemy.

“You!” I said. “Don Wingus. I should have known. So you did escape from Ocean City, and have somehow located a copy of the legendary Kitab al-Azif. Then I see you reunited with your daughter Anastasia and are attempting to call forth the terror known as Kuthalu!”

“I am more than ‘attempting’, Rumanos, you overdressed vagabond,” retorted Wingus, wisps of black energy appearing around him. “I found the book some time ago in an Arabian marketplace. I have already finished the preliminary conjurations, aided by the sexual magic workings that Stacy here assists in, and all that remains is to call forth the mighty Kuthalu into our dimension. Then nothing can stop me from using its power to establish myself as ruler of this planet and so many others!”

“Wingus, you mad unholy perverted fiend! You cannot control the power of Kuthalu. It is a force of absolute chaos, totally beyond any sane reckoning. It corrupts and destroys all that comes within its reach.”

“I assure you I am in complete control, as you will now see -- and feel! Kuthulu, come forth!!”

With this, the bits of darksome power coalesced into something, something horrid beyond all sane belief; for at that very moment suddenly burst forth an image as of myriads of writhing black tentacles, huge of size and accompanied by a terrible sound of buzzing and moaning and howling. The tentacles grew and stretched and looked as if they would soon fill the room before bursting forth into an unsuspecting world.

“Do you see, Rumanos?” exulted the interplanetary criminal Don Wingus. “Do you see?! I have called forth the Great Kuthalu, the one who shall make me ruler of worlds; the one who shall now destroy you and your allies!!”

Can you even commence, my dear friends and most appreciated readers, to recognise the utter unnameable horror, forsooth the compete unspeakable terror of the situation in which we then found ourselves? There we were; the lovely Millie Drake, the robotic Kit-10, and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. There we were, facing the villainous Magister Don Wingus and his unclean daughter Anastasia. There we were, as the criminal Wingus conjured the very being known as Kuthalu, the alien horror that only existed to subjugate and destroy all -- and which as that very moment was being called forth to exterminate us!

“Now you shall die, Rumanos!” reiterated the evil Don Wingus amidst peals of his own utterly insane laughter. “You shall die, and I -- with the power of Kuthalu to aid me -- shall go on to rule over all!”

The darksome energies had by now reached us, appearing as the mass of disgustingly writhing tentacles, and my companions and I began to feel the power of its unmentionable evil. It swirled around us like unto a creeping black pool of deepest iniquity, accompanied by the sound of buzzing and howling and slithering as of the cacophony of a thousand nightmares.

“You are finished, Rumanos!” screeched the felonious Don Wingus in wicked triumph. “You are finished and now will die!!”

Then something very peculiar happened.

“No, father, no!” suddenly interrupted Anastasia Wingus. “Please don’t kill Doctor Rumanos! I like him! Won’t you let me have him to play with when you and Kuthalu rule the world? Oh, please, father! Please do that for me! Please?!”

“Stacy you careless come-rag!” bellowed Don Wingus whilst slapping his daughter hard across the face. “I am so tired of your ridiculous crush on Daniel Rumanos! Do you hear me?! I am sick and tired of it!!”

“Daniel,” said Millie Drake. “Do you notice something?”

“Yes,” I replied, “the energy is not hitting us as strongly now. Hmmm…”

Struggling, I just managed to step forward and deliver a blow of my fist across the face of Don Wingus. Distracted and unready, it sent him sprawling across the interior of the crypt.

I then hurried back to where Millie Drake and Kit-10 were, gesturing to them to retreat from the area of the swirling energies.

“Stand back, my friends,” I counselled. “Stand away and watch what happens!”

My two companions did so, and soon we were at the opposite side of the crypt from Don Wingus and his daughter -- as the hideous powers of monstrous tentacled Kuthalu headed directly to-wards them!

“What!” shouted Wingus in sudden terror at what was transpiring. “No! No! You cannot do this to me!”

Nevertheless, it was too late for Don Wingus and Stacy, as the sickening tentacles of Kuthalu wrapped around both of them, soon blotting them from view. I heard the girl scream, and her evil father let out one final bellow of outrage, before the darkness consumed them completely.

Then all was quiet. The monstrous evil -- the otherworldly thing known as Kuthalu -- had vanished, taking the villains with it.

“Are you all right Millie? Kit-10?”

“Yes, I’m okay now,” said Millie, walking over and taking my hand.

“My systems are also undamaged,” added the mechanical feline.

“But what happened?” asked Millie.

“Wingus was distracted enough to lose control of the situation, hmmm?” I explained. “As I told him, the force of Kuthalu is beyond any complete direction, and even a slight lapse of concentration in its conjuration is fatal. It has taken Wingus and his wretched daughter with it back to its own dimension, a non-corporeal world of darkness and chaos and death.”

“But what about the book?”

I looked at the old Arabic text as it lay on the now-abandoned stone casket. “We will take the Kitab al-Azif with us back to HQ, where we can keep it safely amongst our collection of occult books and artefacts. There it can finally do no further harm to mankind.”

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

GHOSTS OF GAZA

Ismail Abdullah was a young man when he was recruited by Hamas. They were quite impressed with his extensive background as a leading member of one of the Palestinian rape gangs that target Israeli schoolgirls. The terrorist organization thought he would be a great choice to use as a soldier during the War in Gaza.

It all went as they hoped, with Ismail Abdullah utilising the usual Hamas tactics of using children as human shields so they could blame the Israel Defense Forces for any civilian casualties. That Abdullah also sometimes sexually molested those children was of no consequence to the so-called champions of non-existent “Palestine”.

Nevertheless, some other members of Hamas started to notice something strange about Ismail Abdullah; something eldritch and seemingly supernatural. At times he was seen to glow with a darksome black light, and it did not take long for the superstitious Palestinian Arabs to begin to whisper to one another that Abdullah was possessed by the Shaitans, those evil spirits of the desert spoken of in much Middle Eastern lore.

The upshot of this is that Hamas reassigned Ismail Abdullah, sending him far way from the Gaza Strip to the United States of America -- there to await further orders with which he could resume his terrorist career. At least, that is what they told him. In reality, the Hamas leaders were fearful of the Shaitans, too fearful to even just have him killed, and they just wanted Abdullah out of the way.

And so Ismail Abdullah waited; he waited there in New York City for orders from his superiors that would never come; he waited whilst brooding and longing for the days of his youth spent as a rapist of young Jewish girls.

This is the story of the day he got tired of waiting. …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. With the heritage of the legendary Watchers of Algol, whose technology appears as magic, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

Millie Drake and I were having lunch at Chaim’s Delicatessen on that sunny day in Manhattan. I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, and my Star of David necklace. My panama hat and opera cape rested next to me in the deli booth.

My companion Millie is an exceedingly beautiful young lady; petite and perfect with hair of a rich chestnut hue, enchanting violet eyes, and a sun-kissed complexion. The brightly-flowered dress she wore only served to highlight her slender young figure.

Kit-10, our robotic cat friend, had stayed behind at our skyscraper headquarters to do some computerised filing tasks, the fine food of the delicatessen being of no interest to her metallic systems.

I was having a pastrami sandwich on toasted rye with mustard, whilst Millie Drake enjoyed a similar turkey sandwich. We both had glasses of the deli’s highly-caffeinated iced tea.

“This is so good,” said Millie with a lovely smile. “I’m glad we came here today.”

“Yes, I thought it would make a nice getaway from our usual duties as Kosmikos agents, hmmm?” I agreed. “The deli’s owner is an old friend of mine. His daughter is a well-known Hollywood actress now. I helped her out of some trouble she had years ago from encountering antisemitism in one of the local entertainment venues.”

Little did we know, as my companion and I ate our meals in supposed peace, that we were being observed by the aforementioned Ismail Abdullah. As he looked at Millie through the large plate-glass window of the delicatessen, his dark eyes narrowed with unbridled lust mixed with hatred.

“I will have her,” said Abdullah to himself in Arabic, dressed as he was in American blue-jeans, sneakers, and a rock band t-shirt. “I will have that little Jewish girl right now today.”

I had gone up to the counter to pay our lunch bill when it happened. I felt a shock of evil as Ismael Abdullah walked past me on the way to our table. At the same time, I did not actually notice his physical presence, hidden as he was behind the psychic blackout of the Shaitans.

I only came to my senses when I heard Millie Drake scream. I whirled around just in time to see the perverse terrorist Ismail Abdullah drag her bodily out the door, his form still partially obscured by the darksome energy of the Shaitan spirits.

I immediately hurried off in pursuit, but soon found my advancement farther than the doorway of the deli blocked  -- blocked by an hideous mass of ebon energy that loomed before me like the harbinger of hell that it was!

I took the transonic mezuzah from my jacket pocket and used it to scan the eldritch horror that hovered before me.

“By the Daemonian Spires!” I swore to myself upon reading the results. “An absolute horde of Shaitans -- those ghostlike demoniacal beings that are the mental essences of the inhabitants of the lost planet Eblis that once existed between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter! Their own psychic chaos led to their world’s long-ago destruction, thus forming the asteroid belt that now exists there. They now roam the Space-ways as wraithlike entities, possessing physical beings whose wicked thoughts attract them -- like this lustful Arab who is attempting to abduct Millie!!”

Even before I could further utilise the device, I noticed that the Shaitan phantasm was fading from before me.

“Of course,” I pondered. “It was simply here to prevent me from immediately following him. Its power is nothing in comparison to the horde of spirits possessing the man.”

With this, I ran from the deli area down the street in pursuit of the repulsive Palestinian rapist and terrorist Ismail Abdullah. As I approached, he turned to face me, there on that Manhattan street corner. His eyes were black with the presence of the Shaitans, and dark waves of satanic energy swirled around him.

Behind him on the pavement was Millie Drake, frightened but thus far unharmed.

“You will not stop me, Israeli magician,” he told me in his deeply accented English. “I am Ismail Abdullah of Hamas, and I will take your little Jew-girl as my own!”

Ignoring his hateful and obscene taunts, I began to raise the transonic mezuzah against him. Nonetheless, before I could properly activate the instrument, a massive wave of eldritch Shaitan energy suddenly burst out from the Palestinian terrorist. It hit me with immense force, accompanied with a noise like unto the howlings of countless damned souls, sending me sprawling backwards on the sidewalk.

“You will now die, accursed Son of Israel!” pronounced the horrible Abdullah. “By the powers within me for the future of Palestine, you will now die!”

Is it at all remotely possible, my dear friends and most indulgent readers, that you can even begin to comprehend the supreme satanic terror, forsooth the ultimate unhallowed horror, of the situation in which I then found myself? Is it feasible that you can see the unspeakable and unbounded evil of the absolute dreadfulness in what I was then facing on that bizarrely fateful day in New York City? There I was -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos, alien secret agent and Knight of the Eternal Spires. There I was, facing the sickening Palestinian terrorist known to the deepest depths of infamy as Ismail Abdullah, who fully intended to assault my beloved Millie Drake. There I was, as Abdullah sent a barrage of the ghostly Shaitan spirits -- with which he was possessed -- directly at me!

“You will die, Jewish conjurer!” repeated the evil Ismael Abdullah. “You will die, and your little girlfriend will be mine to ravish as I will!”

The Shaitans had again reached me, and I began to struggle in psychic pain at the very touch of these horrid beings, strengthened as they were by their possession of the execrable human perversion Ismail Abdullah. I fought it, but my very thoughts were becoming filled with the chaotic iniquity of the demonic phantoms.

Then I again heard Millie Drake scream. I heard her scream and I rallied myself, fighting against the mental chaos of the presence of the Shaitan horde. I realised that the transonic mezuzah was still in my hand, and quickly adjusting its setting.

“Sh’ma Ishrael Hashem Alohenu Hashem Achad!” I invoked, aiming the transonic directly at Ismail Abdullah.

Then a thing happened that can only be described as miraculous. Upon the uttering of my prayer, the entire horde of Shaitans suddenly changed their focus; no longer pummelling me, they in stead headed directly to-wards Ismail Abdullah, soon surrounding him entirely in their darkling embrace of ungodly horror.

No!” he screamed as the howling Shiatan phantoms surrounded him. “No! Nooooo!”

Then, in a split second of time, the Shaitan spirits vanished, taking Ismail Abdullah with them.

I stood up and looked around. All was quiet, and that New York street was already back to normal. It was as if the terror had never been.

Millie Drake then ran into my arms.

“Daniel, I knew you would come!” she sobbed. “I knew you would save me!”

“Of course, my love,” I reassured her. “Of course. I will always be here for you, even beyond the very end of Eternity.”

“I couldn’t even fight him,” said Millie, recovering somewhat from the horror of her experience. “It was like I was paralysed by those things possessing him.”

“Yes, it is an effect of the Shaitans when they have gained a toehold from a suitable human host. That Abdullah character was a perfect foil for them, with his racist hatred and unholy lust.”

“So what happened to him, and how did you get rid of the spirits?”

“I utilised the exorcism setting of the transonic,” I explained, “along with the Hebrew prayer of protection, hmmm? It was enough to switch the Shaitans' spiritual course, so that they rebounded on Ismail Abdullah and took him with them into another dimension; forsooth, a dimension of suffering and pain -- a true Hell in which he will receive his proper punishment!”

My companion and I returned to the delicatessen where I retrieved my hat and cloak and we made certain that all was well. Then, the horror banished, Millie and I walked together hand in hand back to our HQ.

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

UNDER THE BOARDWALK

We had gone to Ocean City, New Jersey, in response to some strange phenomenon emanating from the area. It was the off season, with few people to be found on the boardwalk; and it was a darkly overcast day there on the beach, perhaps a foreboding of the eldritch horror we were about to experience.

“So is this where the strange energy reading was detected?” enquired my companion, known as Miss Millie Drake.

“Quite so, love,” I replied. “According to our equipment back at headquarters, it is emanating from exactly this section of the Ocean City boardwalk.”

I was clad in my usual finery; including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, panama hat, and one of my favourite opera capes. I took the transonic mezuzah from the pocket of my jacket and then began to scan the area.

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

“By the Stellar Trinity!” I swore upon reading the resultant display on the transonic before returning it to my pocket. “According to the results of my scan, the energy is coming from a structure here -- under the boardwalk!”

“But what kind of energy is it, Daniel?” queried Millie.

“That is the strangest thing of all, my dear Mills. The energy reading seems to be… Lemurian.”

“Lemurian? Like from the advanced civilisation that existed during Earth’s prehistoric times in the Indian Ocean?”

“The very same. Apparently someone -- or something -- has been utilising the technology of Lemuria right here. We need to find out how and why, and then…”

“Oh my goodness!” Millie suddenly cried. “Look!”

I whirled around to see what had so upset my assistant and beheld an horror indeed. There were several human-sized creatures like bipedal lizards with webbed feet, approaching us quickly across the beach.

“Reptilians!” I said. “Millie, run!”

My young companion and I hurried to escape the approaching Lizard-Men the only direction we could -- to-wards the unknown darkness below the boardwalk! …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. With the heritage of the legendary Watchers of Algol, whose technology appears as magic, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

We ran on underneath the boardwalk with the Reptilians in pursuit. We found what appeared to be a cave and entered it, continuing down a tunnel. I looked behind us and saw that the creatures were no longer following.

“We seem to have lost them,” said I.

“Were those really Reptilians?” questioned Millie Drake. “I mean of the kind that ruled the Earth ages before human beings existed?”

“Quite so,” I affirmed, “but they have lost their intellect and become seagoing creatures, living in colonies along the coastal areas of the world.”

“So the technology that the emissions are coming from isn’t theirs?”

“No, it could not be. There is still someone else involved in this; someone with superior intelligence and technological ability.”

“I wish Kit-10 were here to help.”

“I too miss the presence of our robotic cat friend. Nevertheless, you know that seawater negatively affects her circuitry.”

I took the transonic from my pocket and programmed some sequences into it.

“There,” I said, “I have alerted our contacts at the Coast Guard, hmmm? They will be interested in the presence of the Reptilians here. Now, let us continue our search!”

I returned the device to my jacket and we proceeded down the darksome stone tunnel. We soon beheld a light shining ahead of us and, when we reached it, found the very thing we had sought. The tunnel debouched into a lofty chamber in which was an huge assortment of bizarre electronic equipment. When we entered, a man clad in a black suit turned to face us.

He was apparently of middle years, his face still showing definite signs of handsome distinction despite carrying the marks 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.

Of course, I recognised him immediately; I recognised him as the renegade Algolite criminal who has become both the most wanted terrorist in the Universe and my own most bitter foe. It was Don Wingus!!

“You!” I said. “Don Wingus. I should have known. So you did escape from Silenus the Satyr, and are using revived Lemurian technology to control these Reptilians, hmmm?”

“Oh quite so, Rumanos,” he sneered, “and I am well guarded against your interference, as you can see.”

By now, the Reptilian horde had entered the chamber and surrounded us on guard for the criminal Don Wingus.

“As you know,” said the villain, “the prehistoric Lemurian humanoids developed a system of electronic impulses with the ability to control the Reptilian mind. They only used it to keep pet dinosaurs, but I have now revived the technology and modified it to give me complete control over these Lizard-Men.”

“You are mad, Wingus,” I charged. “You are utterly mad. These creatures are just mindless animals now. To what purpose do you intend to put them?”

“They shall aid me in my conquest of this planet. There are hidden colonies of Reptilians all along the coast of this country. I shall have them all under my control, an entire army of Lizard-Men who shall march across the United States and subjugate it to my domination. Today, America -- tomorrow the world!”

“Wingus, you cannot control the Reptilians to that extent. Their brains are bestial and chaotic.”

“You are wrong, Rumanos. Through the use of the Lemurian technology I have here assembled in this machinery, I have achieved complete control over the Reptilians -- a control I shall now demonstrate by using them to kill you!”

It was then that the hideous Lizard-Men began to advance to-wards Millie and me, their horrid hissing accompanied by the insane evil laughter of Don Wingus.

“Now, you will die,” he taunted, “and my Reptilians shall rip apart your flesh!”

Do you understand the utter horror of the weird and darkling debacle in which we then found ourselves? Can you even begin to comprehend the sheer ungodly terror, forsooth the utter abject horror and complete unholy fear of this supremely grotesque and absolutely strange situation? There we were, the lovely Miss Millie Drake and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. There we were, facing that horde of hideous prehistoric Reptilians controlled by the evil Algolite criminal and terrorist who is known to eternal infamy as Magister Don Wingus. There we were, as the horrid Lizard-Men continued to approach us, their goal to violently prevent us from stopping the wicked Wingus in his mad goal to invade the United States of America -- and then the entire planet Earth!

“Now, Daniel Rumanos and Miss Drake,” repeated the insane intergalactic felon, “you will die!”

Millie held on to me in fear as the horrible Reptilians approached us, their sickening lizard eyes ablaze with animalistic cruelty.

Then, just before the creatures would have reached us, there was the sound of an explosion as the very cavern shook violently.

“What in the Six Stars is that?!” ejaculated Wingus.

“That,” I returned, “is the United States Coast Guard. They have been alerted to the presence of Reptilians here, and are following the President’s secret military mandate to destroy them immediately!”

Then another blast hit the chamber, rocking it hard. For the moment that Don Wingus was again distracted by this, I retrieved the transonic from my pocket and aimed it to-wards the machinery, activating my device for just a split second before again returning it to my pocket.

Immediately, the Lizard-Men turned away from Millie and me and began to stalk to-wards Don Wingus in stead.

“Daniel,” said Millie, “what did you do?”

“I switched the polarisation of the machinery’s neutronic stream, hmmm?” I explained. “In stead of empowering Wingus to control the Reptilians, it is now causing them to turn on him!”

“No!” bellowed Wingus in sudden horror as the horrendous Lizard-Men closed upon him. “No! I am Don Wingus! I am your master! I… !”

There was another bomb blast to the cave, and the stone ceiling began to fall in.

“Daniel, I think we’d better go!” pleaded Millie Drake.

“Quite so, love,” I agreed, taking her hand. “Come on!”

We turned and ran from the chamber, hearing one final cry of outrage and terror from Don Wingus before it fell in completely. We then hurried down the tunnel and exited to the area of the boardwalk and the beach beyond it -- just as the cave entrance vanished completely from the effects of the successful military bombardment. …

A short time later, Millie Drake and I were enjoying a meal at a local pizza establishment.

“So, Daniel,” said Millie after taking a sip of her soda. “I know the military will search for and deal with the other Reptilian colonies, but do you really think that this time we’ve really seen the last of Don Wingus?”

“We shall see,” I replied whilst helping myself to another slice of excellent cheese pizza. “Even if he somehow managed to escape from the Lizard-Men, the US Coast Guard bombardment completely obliterated that cave system. I know he has survived seemingly impossible situation before, but as I said, we shall see. As for now, let us enjoy our brief respite, hmmm? After all, even alien secret agents know that the best pizza can be found on the Jersey Shore!”

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

THE PALESTINIAN PERPETRATOR

“The Jinn?” wondered Millie Drake. “You mean the things from Middle Eastern legend?”

“Quite so,” I replied. “In reality, they are non-corporeal beings from one of the mysterious inner planets of the Alpha Centauri system, hmmm? Having lost their physical existence when their world was caught in the crossfire of the last Galactic War, they became wraithlike wanderers through the Cosmos, some of them finding their way to Earth and becoming the very Jinn or Genies of Arabian lore.”

We were at our secret headquarters, located as it is within the golden trapezoidal rooftop of a certain downtown skyscraper; and containing, in addition to our electronic equipment, a plethora of weird and bizarre artefacts that we have collected in our storied career as investigators of the unknown.

I was clad in my usual finery, including a frilled poet shirt, purple velvet suit, jungle boots, and my Seal of Solomon necklace. My panama hat and opera cape hung from a near by hallstand.

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 cherry coloured 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 mechanical housecat.

“So the type of energy associated with the Jinn has been detected in the City?” enquired Millie.

“Indeed so, my dear Mills,” I affirmed. “Our scanners have detected it in the area, but its exact location and intensity have thus far remained elusive. We need to…”

“Transmission being received, s--,” suddenly interrupted Kit-10 in her simulated yet pleasantly-feminine voice. “It is a current television broadcast relating to the Jinn situation.”

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

“Put it on the main view screen,” I said.

A video feed then appeared on the large central screen I had indicated. It was a local news broadcast.

“This is Emily Marsden,” said the young woman reporter. “We are here today at Times Square with Palestinian activist Habib Hassan, who has promised to let us in on his discovery of how to bring peace to the Middle East, specifically the War in Gaza. Mr. Hassan?”

“Yes, and thank you for having me on your show,” said the dark man, clad in a business suit and a turban. “I have come here today to show how we can achieve freedom for Palestine against the Jewish aggressors!”

“Umm, wait a minute,” said Marsden. “I thought you were…”

Hassan then, with a sweep of his arm, simply swatted the newswoman out of the way. She fell unconscious on the pavement as he continued to address the camera.

“It is today that I, the honourable Habib Hassan,” he opined, “shall reveal the power that I have achieved by the spiritual methods of the Holy Prophets; for I have contacted the mighty forces of the Jinn, and I shall use them to destroy our enemies, the two adversaries of Palestine -- the accursed Israel and America!”

With this, a bizarre grey mist began to envelope the young Palestinian, as he then started to levitate directly up off the ground!

Watching the broadcast, Millie Drake spoke, “Goodness, Daniel! He needs to be stopped! We should get over there right away!”

“Quite so, love,” I agreed whilst fetching my hat and cloak from the stand. “If this Hassan person has let the powers of the Jinn possess him, then this -- coupled with his horrid anti-Semitic agenda -- may put the entire planet in peril! Millie, Kit-10, we must make haste!” …

My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos, and I carry the heritage of the legendary Watchers of Algol, whose technology appears as magic. I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star! …

A short time later, Millie, Kit-10, and I arrived at Times Square in my specially-modified canary-yellow Edwardian roadster, affectionately known as “Lizzie”. We parked the car and began to walk across the area. A small crowd of spectators had gathered to look at the strange Palestinian terrorist known as Habib Hassan. He was hovering a few metres above the ground, levitating with the flashing grey powers around him.

I first approached Emily Marsden, helping the young woman up from where she had fallen. She was now just regaining consciousness, but seemed unhurt.

“Ms. Marsden,” I said, “I am Doctor Rumanos, and my diagnosis is that you should run away from here.”

The newscaster immediately took my advice, leaving the area along with her frightened camera crew.

I then reached into my pocket and retrieved the transonic mezuzah. I began to lift it to-wards the hovering figure of Habib Hassan.

“Now,” I said, “let us see if he can…”

“Oh my gosh!” exclaimed Millie Drake. “Daniel, look out!”

I looked to see what had so alarmed my companion, and beheld an horror indeed. For at that very moment, coming down from above us, was a shape as if from out of nightmare. It was an huge phantasmagorical thing, grey in colour and accompanied by an eldritch moaning sound like unto that of the mourning of a thousand dead.

“By the Daemonian Spires!” I swore. “A Jinn!”

Then, before we could further react, the horrible phantasm reached us. As it touched my being, the transonic went flying from my hand, to clatter to the ground out of my reach!

Then the ghostly form vanished from sight as quickly as it had appeared.

“What happened to it?” queried Millie Drake.

“Kit-10?” I asked.

“Accessing, s--,” replied the robot. “Form was simply an echo of the forces that Habib Hassan is generating. Far greater danger only exists from the powers directed immediately from him.”

“Of course,” I pondered. “The Jinn are from another world, and are bodiless at that. They need Hassan’s input in order to interact with us. Unfortunately, they seem to have him completely brainwashed to do their bidding.”

“But what is the goal of these Jinn?” questioned Millie.

“Conquest, my dear,” I informed. “They have gone too long in their non-corporeal form, and now only seek to conquer other worlds -- worlds like Earth, filled with organic bodies they can possess!”

As I spoke, we saw Hassan approaching us, floating as he was across Times Square.

“You and your Jewish magic are no match for me!” he screeched, his voice a thing of ungodly hatred incarnate. “I am Habib Hassan, and I wield the power of the Jinn against all who support the accursed Israel!”

“Kit-10,” I said. “Blast him.”

With this, the robotic cat shot several burst of her nose laser directly at Hassan, but it was to no avail. The ghastly grey light deflected it all harmlessly to the ground.

“Do you see what I mean, Jew wizard?” cackled Habib Hassan. “Your Talmudic automaton cannot harm me, for the Jinn give me power over all! It is power that I shall now use to destroy you! I shall destroy you -- for the glory of Palestine!”

With this pronouncement, a grotesque surge of the darksome Jinn energy suddenly burst forth from the levitating figure of Habib Hassan. I came forth with an howling fury of myriads of the phantasmal alien beings. It headed directly for Millie Drake, Kit-10, and me -- then hitting us with a powerful gust of force beyond hurricane speed, sending us sprawling on the Times Square pavement!

Can you understand the abject horror in this? Can you comprehend the unspeakable terror, in truth the unnameable dread of the situation in which we at that time found ourselves? There we were, the lovely Millie Drake, the robotic Kit-10, and me -- Doctor Daniel Rumanos. There we were, facing the horrid Palestinian terrorist known to eternal infamy as Habib Hassan and the terrifying Jinn power possessing him. There we were, as this same eldritch energy now surged to-wards us -- energy that Hassan intended to utilise in his bid for the total destruction of all that is good and true!

“For the glory of Palestine!” repeated the terrible terrorist. “For the glory of Palestine I will now bring your destruction, Jewish magician, along with your infidel allies!”

From within the preternatural maelstrom, I stood up from where I had fallen and helped Millie to her feet. We looked and saw that Kit-10 was near by and seemed unharmed. The grey Jinn energy continued to swirl threateningly around us, along with the horrid howling moaning sound.

Then, I glanced at the ground and realized that I had fallen near unto where the transonic had previously landed. I quickly reached down and pick up the device, programming a certain setting and aiming it directly to-wards Hassan.

When the programming from my transonic hit him, Habib Hassan began to shudder and shake, and the terrifying Jinn power suddenly reversed its course and barrelled directly back at him.

“What have you done, Israeli warlock?” he screamed. “How have you done this to me?!”

“You have failed, Hassan,” I told him, “I have seen the future, and let me assure you -- Palestine will never be!”

Then, after Hassan gave one final shriek of fear, the Jinn power suddenly shot upwards through the sky, taking him with it to vanish far up above the clouds.

“Putz,” said I.

All was suddenly quiet, there at Times Square in New York City on that bizarrely fateful day. The horror had gone.

“Are you all right, Mills?” I enquired concernedly whilst returning the transonic mezuzah to my pocket. “Kit-10?”

“I’m fine now, Daniel,” replied the young lady.

“All systems functioning normally, s--,” added the mechanical kitten.

“Excellent to hear, my good friends,” I said. “Fortunately, I was able to access the 'spellcasting' power of the transonic device against the Jinn, and reversed their magical course against our foe. Habib Hassan has been taken with the Jinn with which he had already bonded his essence. If he somehow manages to survive the acceleration though the atmosphere, he will then die in the depths of Outer Space as they journey onwards in eternal wandering.”

“His hatred of Israel was so sad,” said Millie. “It was like something he was sick with. Was it because of the influence of the Jinn?”

“Quite so, my love,” I agreed, “and it is a sickness we see so much of these days. Did you know that the land of Israel was an Algolite outpost in Earth’s prehistoric times? Interesting, hmmm? That is something that shall become increasingly important in the years to come.”

We heard numerous sirens as the local police now headed to-wards the scene in response to the reported disturbance. What was left of the crowd, those who had not already fled in fear, began to disperse.

“They shall find nothing now,” I said as my friends and I returned to the car, “but none the less we should make our exit to avoid any unnecessary explanations. Let us stop along the way back to headquarters and pick up something for dinner, hmmm?”

“From a kosher food place?” enquired Millie with a smile.

“Of course, my dear,” I assured her as we sped away in our colourful and specially-modified vehicle. “Of course.”

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