I sincerely doubt if anyone has ever heard a man scream quite like that before.
I had just managed to break the electronic lock on the door of the storeroom of that military research station along the banks of the Potomac River. I quickly charged into the room and held up the transonic device, which resembles a large writing pen, aiming it at one of the two figures on the makeshift bed and activating the setting used to scramble the nervous-systems of an insect.
It was then that Captain Mark Gates, United States Army, screamed. He screamed with horror when the thing with which he was locked in the throes of coitus, a thing which had appeared to be an attractive nude woman, was suddenly transformed into an human-sized insect -- the Martian horror looking like a large, copper-coloured earwig. Its six legs flailed about hideously as it lay beneath him. All the more grotesque is the realisation of the fact that Captain Gates’ scream was mixed with his own moan of pleasure, as he had achieved orgasm just as his partner was transformed.
“Mars attracts,” said I.
Whilst the horrid alien insect expired, I quickly picked up its near-by accessories belt, activating the mechanism on the molecular transport device. I was briefly surrounded by a shimmering red light as I vanished from the room. It was the only way I could reach the huge, oblong disc-shaped alien spaceship hovering far over the city.
It was the first wave of a Martian invasion centring on the Washington, DC area. Their goal had been to knock out the all local United States Military operations before taking over the White House and the Capitol Building. Captain Gates had been in charge of the homeland-security radar monitoring installation and the Martian agent had beguiled him, utilising its technologically-enhanced pheromones to lure him into the storage room for an act of sexual intercourse. I hear that the poor man was never truly able to regain his sanity. The US Government would, of course, cover up the incident completely.
I re-materialised in the bridge-area of the Martian ship and again activated the transonic pest-zapper. The crew of Martian insect invaders scrambled around the room, buzzing and clicking in pain as my device tore up their decentralised nervous centres. I ran over to the main computer and began to make some adjustments.
Back in the military installation, reinforcements had arrived to reactivate the systems.
“Sergeant Benson! Get this place going immediately!” ordered General Alexander Gorton-Steward, his clear and authoritative tone of command showing the fact of his long experience in anti-terrorist operations.
“Right away, sir!” responded the young sergeant, seating himself behind the bank of radar scanners, video screens, and instrumentation.
As he got to work, an image appeared on one of the screens. It was the Martian spaceship, still hovering miles above the city.
“Goddamn Space-bugs,” muttered the General.
Suddenly, the alien ship was seen to explode, blasted into smithereens.
“He’s done it, sir!” exclaimed Sgt. Benson. “He’s done it!”
“He has!” agreed General Gorton-Steward. “But, Goddamn it, did he get off that thing in time?”
Just then, a shimmering red glow appeared in the middle of the control room, and I materialised still wearing my usual finely-tailored outfit, which includes a frilly poet shirt and purple velvet jacket.
“Thank God, Dr. Rumanos!” said the General. “I thought for a second we’d lost you!”
“Thanks for your concern, old chap,” said I, “but I managed to activate this transport device again before the ship blew up. I had switched the polarisation on the alien computer and overloaded their systems. The invasion from Mars is now abated.”
“If the President doesn’t give you a Medal of Honour for this, well, he’s as Goddamn stupid as the other party says he is!”
“No need for medals, General. However, I would appreciate if you would allow me to make use of your internet access. I need to update my social media status before any rumour begins to claim that I was killed in that explosion. Otherwise, countless young girls will become suicidal!” …
My name is RUMANOS -- DOCTOR DANIEL RUMANOS, Intergalactic Man of Mystery. Even though I have the physical appearance of an human being, I am in fact several thousand years old and do carry within my blood the vastly-superior genes of the legendary Watchers of the Daemon-Star ALGOL -- the most technologically-advanced race in all of the known galaxies.
Whilst most Algolites live in elitist seclusion from the rest of the Universe, I am an Operative for a secret organisation known as the KOSMIKOS, tasked with maintaining peace and order throughout the farthest reaches of Space and Time.
Currently assigned to Planet Earth, I protect its people from alien invasion, mad scientists, and indeed all manner of menace. I am the living icon of Algol upon this world. I am THE DAEMON-STAR!!! …
Following the abatement of the Martian menace (this being in the days before I met my wonderful Millie Drake), I had hoped to spend some time recovering from certain ill effects exposure to radiation aboard their ship had had upon me, whilst at the some time preparing a manuscript detailing my particular experiences in the French Foreign Legion prior to the First World War -- a rip-roaring tale of adventure entitled “Beau Rumanos”. However, my recuperative leave and literary work were both interrupted when I received an electronic mail from a young lady asking for my assistance in unravelling an incredibly strange matter. The message ran thus:
“Dear Dr. Rumanos,
Glad to hear you’re okay. I really need your help about some weird visions I’ve been having. They are of something that looks like gargoyles. Please reply.
Respectfully,
Sally Sutton”
I responded and made an appointment to meet with the girl as soon as possible. The mention of “gargoyles” was intriguing indeed. I wondered…
Miss Sally Sutton, her parents currently holidaying on the Riviera, was stopping in downtown Manhattan in a luxury high-rise apartment belonging to her aunt. Having left my canary-yellow Edwardian roadster in a near-by parking garage, as I got off the lift on her floor that late afternoon, I thought I heard an odd chattering sound coming from around the corner of the corridor. I did not think much of it, however, subconsciously dismissing it as perhaps someone watching television in one of the other flats.
I rang the doorbell and it was soon answered by a beautiful girl in her early teens, with platinum hair, a sun-kissed complexion, and eyes the deepest shade of blue. She was slender and perfect and wore a low-cut lavender-coloured gown. I was indeed relieved to see that she was not one of those ridiculous “goth” or “emo” types.
“Miss Sutton?” I enquired. “I am Dr. Daniel Rumanos.”
“Oh, come in,” she said with a welcoming smile. “I’m so glad you’re here, Dr. Rumanos. Please call me Sally. Auntie Melissa should be home from work soon. She’s a private attorney for the Regal Farms Corporation.”
“The ones who own that chain of convenience stores?”
“Yes, that’s them. Would you like some coffee or something?”
“Perhaps later, thank you,” said I, sitting down with her on the sofa. “I really want to hear more about these ‘visions’ you have been having first.”
“They are so weird, Dr. Rumanos!” she said. “It’s just that sometimes when I’m alone I start seeing, like, pictures in my head of strange things. They really do look like gargoyles. You know, like those things you see carved on some old churches?”
“Yes, I know. Tell me more.”
“They seem to live in some kind of city. It’s like a big city with tall, pointed buildings -- ‘spires’ I think they call them -- and it’s all different colours. It’s so weird, too, the way the shapes are so strange, the angles of the buildings and things I mean.”
“How so?” I queried, now quite intrigued as her description opened memories of something ancient, something powerful and forsooth hoary with aeons of age.
“It’s kind of like nothing is curved there, like it’s all angled, you know? Does that make any sense?”
“Indeed. Now tell me, Sally: When exactly did these ‘visions’ begin? Did anything in particular happen to bring them about? Anything that you can remember?”
“Well, yes, but it’s kind of embarrassing,” she said, blushing. “It all started the night I was trying on some of Auntie Melissa’s jewellery. She caught me at it. Oh, she wasn’t angry or anything. She knows I wouldn’t steal. But she seemed so worried about one piece, an old necklace she told me never to touch. She then locked up her jewellery box so I could never do so.”
“Interesting. Did she tell you any more about this necklace?”
“Well, she finally confessed that an old boyfriend had given it to her. He was a Navy officer who had purchased it in some market in Hawaii, I think. He died a year or so later. The war on terrorism, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” said I. “Did you see this piece of jewellery before your aunt locked it up?”
“Just for a second. It was very old, and looked like it was carved from crystal. Not clear crystal but many colours, you know? And after that, I…”
A knock at the door then interrupted the young lady.
“Who could that be?” she said. “Auntie has a key, of course, and we weren’t expecting anyone.”
“Perhaps I should get it,” I offered, getting up and going to the door.
I looked through the peephole and saw nobody on the other side. Opening the door carefully, I peered both ways down the corridor and confirmed that whoever had knocked had then gone away. I looked down and saw a box, like an ordinary mailing box sealed with packing tape. I picked it up carefully.
“Oh, what could that be?” queried Sally Sutton, who had come up behind me. “Auntie always tells me if she’s expecting a package or anything in the mail.”
“Please stand back, Sally,” I cautioned. “There is something odd about this. I sense something. A presence I had hoped I would never encounter again…”
I carefully opened the package. In it was a figure like a tiny doll -- only it was not a doll. It was an actual human being. Dead. Murdered. A woman in a smart business suit killed by having been shrunken to the size of a toy.
“Auntie Melissa!” screamed the girl, who had looked despite my warning. “Oh my gosh, that’s Auntie Melissa!!”
I dropped the box and caught the girl before she fell to the floor in her faint. I carried her to the sofa and carefully put her down.
I stood up and tried to collect my thoughts. I know knew for sure concerning the eldritch presence I had perceived. It was the proximity of the most insanely-evil fiend in all of existence. Someone I had known to kill many organic beings in this fashion during the horrid intergalactic wars in which we had both fought. In my anger, I spoke his name. A name of villainy and profligate wickedness beyond imagination. A name that should be rightfully shunned and spurned by all civilised beings. In sooth, a name I had so fervently hoped I would never hear again:
“Don Wingo.”
By now, the girl was stirring slightly from her swoon…
“No… ” she said feebly. “No… Auntie Melissa… Oh my gosh… No… Doctor Rumanos… ”
I sat down on the edge of the sofa and softly took her hand.
“I am here, love,” said I. “I will protect you. We will find the one who did this.”
“But why would… ?” she enquired, recovering somewhat. “Why would somebody… Is it about that necklace?”
“Yes, Sally, I believe it is about that.”
“But… What is it?”
“Well, from what you described, the piece on that necklace sounds like it could be a relic of the GARGOUELLIOS or ‘Gargoyles’ of Mu. You see, Mu was a continent, an incredibly ancient and highly-advanced civilisation that existed in prehistoric times in what is now the Pacific Ocean. It was peopled by a race known as the Gargouellios, a genetically-engineered form of hybrid reptilian and mammalian DNA. They were a good people, and for countless ages they protected the planet Earth from evil -- from menaces like the Ancient Ones of Leng, the Lizard-Men of Lemuria, the Cult of Kuthalu, and the Shaitans of the planet Eblis.
“Nevertheless,” I continued, “all things in this world pass away in time, and, when the civilisation of Mu came to an end, only legends remained to tell of the Gargoyles, beings who, despite their bizarre appearance, did good and fought evil in all its forms. Hence the many sculptures of them on churches, said to protect against the forces of darkness.
“As for that necklace, I believe it is a rare piece of remaining technology from Mu. It must have been brought up, perhaps in some fisherman’s net, and sold to that marketplace in Hawaii were your aunt’s Navy officer friend found it.”
“But then… ” said the girl. “Who did that horrible thing to Auntie Melissa?”
“That, my dear, could only be the work of one who has become my archenemy, the very quintessence of all that is wicked and unholy. He is known by many names: The Original Evil, The Dark Master, The Spectral Paranormalist, some have even named him SATAN, the very devil himself -- but most recently he has been calling himself ‘Don Wingo’.”
“But what does he want with the necklace?”
“I wonder that myself,” I pondered. “From the mentalist visions you experienced, we can say it obviously has retained some power. Perhaps he has detected this and is planning to use this in one of his evil schemes… ”
It was just then that I was interrupted by a sound. It was the same chattering sound I had heard before, but much closer. I stood up and turned around just as Sally Sutton looked up and screamed at what was approaching from the far side of the room. It was a creature the size and basic shape of a small human being, and most grotesquely, somewhat feminine of aspect. It was completely nude except for a covering of coarse, black hair upon its brown skin. It opened the mouth of its apish face to continue its subhuman chatter, revealing the teeth of an homo erectus!
Before I could even react, the hideous monstrosity had reached it its long arms and seized me by the throat. It was incredibly strong and I had been caught by surprise. This is the only excuse I can give for the fact that it then managed to jump across the room with me in tow -- taking me with it to smash through the plate-glass window of that apartment, high above the streets of the City!!
To my horror, I realised what this creature was. It had been rumoured that Don Wingo had taken a concubine, a female from a tribe deep within the jungles of the Philippines that have retained certain proto-human characteristics of the homo erectus and other prehistoric forms. It (and it fills me with too much disgust to call this subhuman monstrosity “she”!) had been captured and sold on the underground market for “exotic” sex slaves, along the way acquiring the name “Veronica” (the irony of which will be immediately evident to my fellow Latin scholars).
Eventually, Don Wingo had purchased Veronica, its hairy skin and hard musculature appealing to his repressed homosexuality, and now he had gone on to utilise it as a potential assassin -- with me as its target!
As we crashed through the window into the open air, I barely managed to grab hold of the ledge of the building. The subhuman creature known as Veronica was now behind me, holding on with its long apelike arms and chattering its savage native patois in my ear. Suddenly, it climbed up onto the ledge in front of me and bent down in an attempt to sink its long, hideously-sharp teeth into the hand I was using to hold on. Fortunately, I managed to use my free hand to punch the creature full in the face, and it screeched in rage as I then pulled myself up to stand on the ledge facing it.
What followed was a barrage of fisticuffs between the obscene apelike monster and me, there high above the city streets on that darkening early evening. Its strength was incredible, and I am certain that only my own use of certain Daemonian kung fu techniques allowed me to survive the encounter as well as I did.
Eventually, the hideous Veronica, perhaps tiring of the standoff between us, suddenly ran up the side of the building -- an action made possible by use of its grotesquely splayed toes! After having climbed several storeys, it then turned and, chattering a primitive challenge down at me, then jumped from the building, its intention being to hit me with propelled weight and perhaps knock the breath from me for long enough to then finish me off.
Nevertheless, Veronica, that horrid ape-woman from the darkest jungles of the Philippine Islands, had not reckoned with human technology. It had mistaken a mass of exposed electrical cables for a group of vines, and upon just slightly touching them upon its downwards course, found itself electrocuted, producing a shower of bright sparks as the resultant energy-surge destroyed the creature’s body.
“Monkey shine,” said I.
I immediately vaulted back through the window and into the flat. I was only to find an even greater terror.
A man was standing in the room, a man dressed from head to toe in a black vestment and cloak. He had one arm around the throat of the helpless Sally Sutton. He had long dark hair and his thin moustache and goatee decorated a face that still showed marks of distinction despite being marred with the look of extreme profligate evil. His hypnotically grey eyes met mine with an icy stare as I saw that his free hand was holding a gun to the poor girl’s head -- but this was no ordinary gun, this was the horrid flesh compressor with which he had already murdered her aunt!
“Good evening, Daniel Rumanos,” he said in his usual tone of mockery. “We’ve been waiting for you. Sorry to see what you did to my Veronica. She had such a nice furry fundament.”
“Don Wingo!” said I. “So you did escape from the Ebony Spiral. I had heard rumours of your return, but did not want to believe them. So, how did you do it? Ah, those stories in the occult underground about that six-year-old boy that was kidnapped and sodomised in Damascus, Maryland. That really was your cult followers, eh? They utilised the psyche-sexual energies of raping the child to… ”
“Enough, Rumanos,” interrupted Wingo. “We all know about your nympholeptic preference for the little girls, don’t we? Well, this one is about to become too little even for you.”
Sally was wide-eyed with fear as she felt the cold steel of Wingo’s gun against her temple. I heard her whimpering softly, her breaths short and difficult due to the ungodly terror she was experiencing.
“Wingo, you unspeakable fiend!” I exclaimed. “You would murder this innocent lass just to get back at me?”
“Oh, of course I would,” he chuckled wickedly. “But I have another reason for this display, you know. You see, if you want me to let the girl go, if you want her to live, you are going to assist me with something.”
With this pronouncement, Don Wingo opened his hand, the hand of the arm he had around sally’s throat. In it was a multi-faceted crystalline jewel set on a plain pewter necklace. The crystal sparkled with myriad colours, many of them beyond the spectrum of human sight.
“The crystal from the Gargouellios of Mu,” said I. “You quite easily rifled it from the deceased lady’s jewellery box.”
“Of course, and you are going to help me use it to bring the powers of the civilisation of Mu into this time-stream. Powers that I will then use to take my rightful place as ruler of this Universe!”
“You want to use my Algolitish mentalist abilities to contact the Gargouellios and bring their powers to you! Wingo, that is beyond madness. The technology of Mu was unique; to bring it here would unleash chaos, vastly accelerating entropy and decay throughout all of Time and Space. Even my own Algolite consciousness would not likely be able to control… ”
“Ah, but TWO Algolite minds could,” announce Wingo, his evil grin widening.
“So you have finally admitted your origins as the Watcher known as Master Wingus! You disguised yourself as an Earthling for so long, to escape the justice of the Kosmikos, that I thought you had perhaps forgotten.”
“The Kosmikos is nothing!” spat back Wingo. “The Watchers of Algol themselves will be nothing when I have achieved my power! And YOU are going to help me do so, right now, Rumanos!”
With this, Don Wingo increased his grip on the young girl as he continued to hold the gun against her head.
“You are going to help me, right now, or this cutie will die,” he snarled. “You will do as I say, or ‘the girl who played with gargoyles’ here gets it!!”
Do you recognise the horror, the supreme and unholy terror of this situation? The satanic arch-villain known as Don Wingo was holding that innocent young lady hostage, after having already brutally murdered her aunt, and demanding that I assist him in his utterly mad scheme to become ruler of the entire Universe!!
Of course, there was only one thing I could do.
“Just do not harm the girl, Wingo,” I said. “Concentrate on the crystal and we can open the inter-dimensional gateways.”
Don Wingo gave an evil chortle of triumph and, without releasing his hold on Sally, allowed the jewel of the Gargouellios to float free as we both began to concentrate upon it. The crystal rose up to hover suspended between us.
“Contact,” said I.
“Contact,” agreed Wingo.
And with this, a stream of lights began to emanate from the ancient jewel; lights of colours undreamed of, blues and reds and gold and silver and purple and purple beyond purple. They intensified and spread throughout the room.
“Incredible that it still works after all these aeons,” I proclaimed. “The power of the technology of Mu. They do not make them like that any more.”
“None of your facetiousness now, Rumanos,” said Don Wingo. “Remember I will kill this pretty young thing at the slightest sign of treachery from you.”
I ignored the disdain his words caused and continued to concentrate. By now, the colours had started to coalesce into shapes, the shapes of the mighty capital city of Mu, the strangely-angled centre of the civilisation of the Gargoyles, that amazing continent of fabled fame and whispered legend that existed in its glory hundreds of millions of years before the earliest ancestors of humankind had even appeared upon this planet.
“Yes,” grinned Wingo. “Yes. I feel the power approaching -- the power that shall be mine!”
It was then that we felt a particular burst of energy as the powers of the Mu technology fully entered our timeline. Wingo immediately began his intended use -- indeed his intended MISUSE -- of it.
“Citizens of the Universe, do listen carefully,” he announced, beginning a psychic broadcast that he knew would, amplified by the centres of Mu, be heard throughout the Cosmos. “I am MASTER WINGUS and I am now your supreme ruler. You will bow to me and do my will in all things. I have the power of life and death over you and shall not hesitate to destroy any and all who would dare to disobey me. You will proclaim my rule and my ownership of every galaxy, star-system, planet, and civilisation throughout all of existence. You will obey my every command and know me as your Lord and as your God. You will…”
It was then that Wingo’s voice was suddenly cut short as he found himself tumbling to the floor. The room was still filled with the colours and images of Mu, but I reached out and found the form of the girl, young Miss Sally Sutton, and pulled her safely to me.
“What!” exclaimed Wingo. “What is happening? What is happening to me? Rumanos! What is happening?!”
“Well, you see,” I replied. “It was apparent that there is something you did not realise about the Gargouellios, the ‘Gargoyles’ of Mu. Like so many, perhaps you judged by appearances, eh? They may not resemble angels, exactly, but their power is nevertheless based upon something good, something that truly is what holds the Universe together. It is a power that somebody like you could never wield, because it is the power of something that you never have known and never shall experience!”
“Enough of these riddles, Rumanos,” said Don Wingo, his voice trembling with shock and pain. “What power is this of which you speak?”
“Don Wingo, you silly old fool, it is the Power of LOVE.”
It was then that I saw the forms of the Gargouellios themselves, in their way so grotesquely magnificent, dimly descried as shimmering lime-green figures that surrounded Don Wingo and reached out their bizarre reptile-mammalian hands to confiscate his now-useless gun and to then grasp him as their prisoner.
“No, Rumanos, no!” he screamed. “Daniel! You can’t do this to me! Daniel, you can’t do this to your own… !”
However, Don Wingo’s final word was unheard amongst the tremendous whoosh of the Gargoyle Power, as it returned in one split second to its proper time and place in the far, far distant past. Even the jewel had vanished, returning to its point of origin, where it could not now be used for harm.
All was now quiet there in that flat in that downtown apartment building. All was quiet except for the gentle weeping of Sally Sutton as I held her in my arms. We were alone.
“The horror is over now, my dear,” I assured her. “The murder of your aunt has been avenged, the Universe is saved, and Don Wingo is no more.”
***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN
