Will Byrum dozed in the chair at his security post. He was the only person still there, late night at New Freedom College in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. Byrum, aged thirty-six, had gotten his job there four months previously in order to support his numerous illegitimate children. As the college’s only night time security guard, he had thus far seen nothing at the small educational institution that warranted any particular vigilance. No break-ins, no vandalism, no violence. Nothing. This night, as usual, all was quiet at New Freedom.
Nevertheless, Byrum was soon to find out that this was a night like no other. It was a knowledge that he would hold only briefly.
“My name is Anastasia Wingus,” Byrum heard the sultry female voice awakening him, “but you can call me Stacy.”
Will Byrum then looked up and beheld an insanely voluptuous teenage girl standing before him. Her hair was raven black, her eyes a luminous blue-green. She wore a black leather miniskirt and matching halter-top.
“What!” said Byrum, jumping up from his chair. “How’d you get in here?!”
“Don’t worry about that, Will,” purred the girl. “Oh, I saw your name on the employee registry. I think security guards are so frigging hot!”
“Ummm… really?” he replied.
“Oh, yes,” affirmed Stacy Wingus, moving closer to him. “You know, we could have some fun here tonight. Do you want to?”
“I guess so,” said Byrum, a lustful smile appearing on his face.
“Come on then,” said Anastasia.
Then, just as Will Byrum moved forwards with intentions of embracing the sexy young girl, she suddenly pulled a small object from her cleavage. It was a switchblade stiletto. Before the man could even react, she opened it and plunged it deeply into his stomach area.
“Oh Will,” she said whilst she ripped the blade across his midsection, “does it feel as good to you as it does to me?”
With only a slight gurgle, Will Byrum then sank to the floor in death.
“Too bad,” giggled Anastasia Wingus as she turned to leave the security station. “I guess he just didn’t have much stamina.” …
My name is Doctor Daniel Rumanos. I carry within my blood the vastly superior genes of the legendary Watchers of Algol, the most intellectually advanced race in all of the known galaxies, whose technology is so sophisticated it often appears to be miraculous to lesser beings.
Whilst most Algolites live in elitist seclusion from the rest of the Universe, I am an operative for an organisation known as the KOSMIKOS. Assisted by the beautiful Miss Millie Drake, I protect Earth from all manner of menace. I am -- The Daemon-Star!!! …
“Wotanian technology?” queried Millie Drake. “Is that what the readings were saying?”
“Quite so,” I replied. “The emanation coming from the Glen Rock Mill Inn here in Glen Rock, Pennsylvania is indeed a product of the technology of that ancient alien race, the same ones who visited the northern European regions in the far past, and who are remembered as the ‘gods’ of the heathen Scandinavian and Germanic peoples.”
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 was driving my specially-modified Edwardian roadster, affectionately known as “Lizzie”, into the outskirts of that small town on that darkly overcast morning. We had travelled there from our headquarters in Manhattan.
Millie sat beside me in the passenger’s seat. She is an exceedingly beautiful young lady -- petite and perfect with luxurious chestnut hair, lovely violet eyes, and sun-kissed skin. The royal blue dress she wore only served to highlight the soft curves of her slender adolescent figure.
Also with us was Kit-10, our mobile personal computer that resembles nothing more or less than a small mechanical cat.
“But you say you have some idea what it may be?” questioned Millie. “What could be causing the Wotanian energy readings, I mean.”
“Quite so,” I replied, “but it is an odd thing indeed. It seems that, barely a fortnight ago, a security guard was murdered and a certain relic was stolen from New Freedom College in near by Williamsport -- a relic that some had called the Hammer of Torr!”
“Well, that makes sense,” pondered my companion, “because Torr or Thor was one of the Nordic gods who were actually the Wotanian aliens. But what was this relic really?”
“It apparently is an old piece of stone that vaguely resembles an hammer,” I explained. “I have heard of it before, of course, but it never seemed to be of much importance since there were previously no signs of it having any actual power. It was found buried in the snows of Iceland by some hunters decades ago. It ended up in the college’s small collection of cultural relics and has been there ever since.”
“So why would it suddenly start showing signs of power?” asked Millie.
“Well, the Wotanians were a race with psyche-mentalist powers,” I replied, “as are most advanced Space-faring species, including our own Algolite one. If the relic is truly Wotanian, and has come into contact with someone with such abilities, then…”
“That would have activated it!” concluded Millie Drake. “Oh my gosh, Daniel! You don’t think it could have been stolen by…”
“Let us not speculate too much until we have all the facts, hmmm?” I admonished. “I say, Kit-10, are you still monitoring the power readings?”
“Of course, s--,” replied the robot. “Definite Wotanian type energies emanating from the area of the Glen Rock Mill Inn establishment.”
(It must be noted here that Kit-10, in addition to her other feline characteristics, is possessed of the total inability to openly show respect to anyone. In fact, the closest she ever comes to it is by addressing me by a slight “s--” sound -- for “sir” -- and Millie Drake by “m--” -- for “ma’am”.)
“Looks like we are in the right place then, hmmm?” said I as we pulled up in front of the aforesaid Glen Rock Mill Inn.
I parked the car and my companions and I walked to-wards the inn, being as it was a tavern built in an old disused factory building. As we approached, I suddenly became aware of a sound. It was a noise like thunder.
“Daniel, look!” screamed Millie.
I looked above us to where the young lady had indicated, and beheld an horror. It was an enormous mass of blood-red energy -- a thundering cloud of alien power that was descending directly to-wards us!
Kit-10 sent several bolts of her nose-laser directly into the energy cloud, but to no avail. I had just put my cloak around Millie Drake in a desperate attempt to protect her from the descending alien energy when it then suddenly vanished as quickly and mysteriously at it had appeared.
“Daniel, wasn’t that… ?” gasped Millie.
“Yes indeed,” I affirmed. “It was Wotanian energy, and it was being controlled and utilised only to frighten us. Someone has control -- someone who must be of immense mentalist ability. This is going to be a dangerous mission indeed.”
We had by now reached the door of the Glen Rock Mill Inn.
“Daniel, it’s closed,” said Millie upon looking at the sign proclaiming the establishment’s hours. “It doesn’t open until four o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Well, someone is definitely here, hmmm?” I replied. “Worry not. My transonic device will take care of the lock.”
I took the transonic turnscrew, an highly advanced scientific instrument, from my jacket pocket and used it to unlock and unbolt the door. Millie Drake, Kit-10, and I then entered the tavern and I returned the device to my pocket.
At first, the inn seemed deserted, with no one at the bar area or at the tables, but we then discerned two figures standing at the far end of the room and cautiously approached them.
One of them was a man seemingly of middle years, clad in a suit of shiny black, his face still showing signs of handsome distinction despite being marked with the effects of lifetimes of extreme ungodly wickedness. His hair was long and dark, and his visage decorated with a thin moustache and goatee. Most of all, his eyes shone with an absolutely hypnotic glare. Standing beside him was a voluptuous young girl in a black leather miniskirt and halter-top.
Of course, I recognised them immediately. I recognised the man as my oldest and most dangerous enemy -- the Algolite master criminal who has become the vilest villain in all of the Cosmos -- and the girl as his dangerously seductive daughter.
“Don Wingus” I said his name. “I should have known. So you did escape from the Druidess. I take it you are responsible for the murder of the security guard at New Freedom College.”
“Oh, I let my little Stacy here take a stab at that,” grinned Wingus sinfully.
“You sent your own daughter to kill a man just so you could steal this old alien relic, hmmm?” I charged.
“Indeed I did, Rumanos,” proclaimed the villain proudly.
“So why are you headquartered at the Glen Rock Mill Inn?’
“It was a convenient location, and the local Pennsylvania Germans -- including the lonely old woman who owns this establishment, are quite subservient when they discover I am ‘researching Nordic mythology’.”
“So that is it,“ I said, looking at the strange stone object that stood on the table between us -- a relic that indeed did resemble the head of an hammer or mallet just under a metre in length, “the so-called Hammer of Torr, commander of the old Wotanian mission to Earth, from the time when they became known as the Norse gods.
“It is indeed,” confirmed Don Wingus, “and I now have the very power of the ‘Hammer of the Gods’ at my control. The power of Torr is mine, and I shall use these Wotanian energies to rule this world!”
“Wingus, you fiend!” I charged. “You cannot control the Wotanian powers. So little is known of them, and they have not been seen for ages.”
“Oh, but you are wrong, Rumanos,” replied the wicked Wingus. “I have not only discovered all concerning the Wotanian powers, but I have melded my very mind with the Hammer itself, increasing its force with my own superior Algolite consciousness.”
“So your Algolite mind was able to reenergise the relic, hmmm?” I pondered. “The so-called ‘Hammer of Torr’ is actually a part of the engine of the largest of the Wotanian spaceships. It is said that their ships were fuelled by the energies found in the heart of stars.”
“Quite so,” replied Don Wingus. “The energies in the Wotanian spaceship engines were indeed of that origin, and could only be controlled by psyche-sensitive beings such as that race indeed were.”
“Nevertheless, this ‘Hammer’ is just a small part of the engine, akin to a sparkplug, hmmm? It was then discarded and replaced with a newer one. Certainly the Wotanians thought that no one would ever be able to reactivate it.”
“And no one would have, since in order to do so requires mentalist ability beyond that even of the Wotanians. It is only Algolitish mind powers such as I possess that could do so.”
Millie Drake added, “So you plan to use the Wotanian powers of the Hammer, reenergised by your own psychic abilities, in order to conquer the planet Earth?”
“Exactly so, Miss Drake,” affirmed Wingus. “I shall utilise the powers of my own mind, flowing through and focused by the Hammer of Torr, in order to subjugate the entire human race to my will. Soon this world will be mine, and others shall follow!”
“Kit-10,” I called. “Blast him!”
The robotic cat then sent a bolt of her nose-laser directly at Wingus. Just before it would have hit him square in the midsection, however, it was suddenly deflected by a seeming shield of blood-red energy that then surrounded his form.
“Do you see now, Rumanos?” chuckled Don Wingus evilly. “Do you see? The power of the Wotanians is mine, and I cannot be stopped; not by armies, not by space navies, not by the Kosmikos -- and not by you!!”
With this, a tremendous surge of the energies, a surge that seemed to flow from both the Hammer and from Don Wingus at once, suddenly shot outwards to-wards my companions and me.
“Now, Daniel Rumanos and Miss Drake,” announced Wingus in obscenely evil exultation, “I shall finally rid myself of your incessant meddling. Now, you will be destroyed!!”
The Wotanian powers hit Millie Drake, Kit-10, and me. They hit us hard and began to pulse with higher and higher frequencies, causing extreme pain as the energies tried to enter and tear apart our very being. We attempted to resist, but knew that that we would soon be unconscious -- or worse.
Then I heard the voice of Stacy Wingus suddenly interrupting.
“No, Father, please don’t!” she pleaded. “Please don’t hurt Doctor Rumanos! I want him! Won’t you let me have him when you come into your kingdom over this planet?”
“Anastasia, you ignorant slut!” replied Don Wingus as he turned and slapped his daughter hard. “I told you I am sick and tired of your ridiculous schoolgirl obsession with that damned Rumanos!”
Then, the blood red Wotanian energies that had been pummelling my companions and me suddenly changed course, turning about and directing themselves to-wards the evil Don Wingus and his daughter. I heard Stacy scream in terror and her father bellow in total outrage as the energies surrounded them. Then, with a final noise as of a million thunders, the energies vanished, with Wingus and his daughter along with them.
I walked over to where the villain had been standing and looked around, just to be certain that what we had apparently witnessed was indeed so.
“Interesting,” said I. “When Wingus became distracted, he lost control of the Wotanian powers, causing their polarities to reverse and to turn against him. They then, having no psychic control, simply blinked out of existence -- taking Don Wingus and his daughter with them!”
“So it’s over now?” enquired Millie Drake.
“Apparently,’ I pondered. “Kit-10, are you reading any signs of residual Wotanian power, here or in the surrounding area?”
“Negative, s--,” replied the mechanical cat. “All invading energies have dispersed.”
“What about the Hammer?” asked Millie.
I picked up the stone relic from the table and examined it.
“It is now an harmless old relic,” I said, “and we can take it back to headquarters for safekeeping. But now, my dear Millie, I hope before leaving this state we can go and experience a far mere pleasant manifestation of the local Germanic culture.”
“And what would that be, Daniel?” queried the young lady.
“What else?” I smiled. “Pennsylvania Dutch Smorgasbord, of course!”
***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN
