Manic Monday: (Dane Monday 1)

by Dennis Liggio

  Dane pulled out the small statue. “Wong, I’m trying to find out what this is.”

  Wong picked up the figure delicately in hands with long fingernails. “Ah, very interesting. Very interesting.”

  "I know it was used in a magic ritual," said Dane, "but I don't know much else. Writing on the walls, dark gray robes, candles, ashes. I showed up after it was finished. In the center was this statue."

  “May I?” Wong asked, gesturing to the back of the shop. “I have magnifying glass there.”

  “Of course,” said Dane.

  Wong retreated to farther back in the shop. He was still visible through shelves where he stood at a workbench.

  “What do you think of him?” asked Dane.

  “He’s… uh,” said Abby at a loss.

  “Wong’s a fox spirit,” said Dane.

  “A what?”

  “In the East, certain animals were able to grow intelligent and gain magical powers over many lifetimes. Foxes in particular were good at this. The animals often took on human form, most commonly to deceive and cheat. But unlike many spirits, fox spirits can change shape at will.”

  Abby peered over to Wong. “Are you sure?” she said incredulously.

  "Absolutely,” he said. He dug in his satchel and pulled out The Goggles. “Try these on.”

  Reluctantly she grabbed The Goggles and put them on. She fumbled with the strap behind her head until Dane said not to worry about it, it’d only take a second. She blinked as everything went amber. She noticed that there were explosions of light all around the store, but Dane directed her to focus on Wong.

  Abby looked at Wong, then lowered the glasses, looked again, then raised them. With the glasses on, he was a slim amber-red fox hunched over the table.

  “That’s amazing,” she said.

  “Yeah, fox spirits have always been attracted to the human world, so it’s natural to take on human form to blend in.”

  “But,” she said, not sure how to phrase this. “If he’s trying to blend in… I mean, maybe he should have picked a less conspicuous form.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Dane.

  “I mean…” she started, somehow not sure how to express it. “Why does he look like that? He kind of sticks out as... well, maybe fake.”

  “Wait, what do you see him as?” asked Dane with concern.

  “He’s short… Asian. His hair is braided. Buck toothed. Coke bottle glasses. Umm, bad mustache.”

  Dane looked shocked.

  “What?” asked Abby.

  “The form he takes looks different depending on the viewer. It’s their interpretation of him, based on what their subconscious makes of the truth under the illusion. I don’t see the same form you do. You're seeing him based on how your mind interprets him.”

  “So only I see him like that?” said Abby.

  “Yes,” said Dane. He shook his head. “I can't believe it! Do you know what this means? Abby, you’re a racist! You’re totally racist if you see him like that!”

  She blushed. “No! No, I’m not! I’m really not!”

  “Oh my god you are!” said Dane.

  Wong came back to the desk. He noticed their odd expressions. “What is it?”

  “Abby, tell him.”

  “No!” she said.

  “Wong, you won’t believe what she sees you as. Tell him, Abby!”

  “I-I really don't mean to be insulting."

  "It's okay," said Wong. "Just tell me. I'm sure it's not as bad as Dane is making it out to be. I am very accepting and hard to offend."

  With both eyes on her, she turned around and looked for escape, but found none. She nervously stared at the counter and explained. "Asian with braids, glasses, buck teeth... and a thin mustache.”

  Wong’s chubby mouth opened and froze in shock. He said nothing but continued to stare at her with this expression.

  Abby blushed again, becoming bright red, her face nearly matching the hue of her hair.

  “I didn’t mean to! I’m not racist!” she said, staring at Wong for any sign of his expression softening.

  Then Wong started laughing.

  It started as a faint giggle, as he tried really hard to keep his face shocked. But then he couldn’t help it. The giggle was obvious and then Dane joined in with his own chuckle. Soon both men started laughing. Wong clutched his stomach in laughter while Dane had to lean on the counter for support.

  “What’s going on?” said Abby in practically a shout.

  Wong recovered first. “What did you tell her?” he said in a suddenly non-accented voice.

  “I told her,” said Dane, wiping tears away from his eyes, “that you appear to people as whatever their mind interprets them as. So I told her she was racist if she sees you as that!”

  Wong roared with a loud belly laugh.

  “What?” said Abby. "What aren't you telling me?"

  “I lied,” said Dane. “He doesn’t appear differently to everyone. This is just how he chooses to look. I see him the same way.”

  “But why?” asked Abby.

  “Mostly to mess with people,” said Wong in a relatively normal accent, one of a lifelong South Avalon resident. “Dane may have neglected to say that fox spirits are tricksters. I just like messing with people. The more straight-laced, the better.” He paused. “Espeshully white people,” he said with a return of his accent before dropping it again. “Oh, I just like making them nervous when they come in. Most act like you and are embarrassed. And if they’re not embarrassed or act weird, then I have my guard up – there’s something off about someone who doesn’t find this appearance an offensive stereotype.”

  “What do you do for your non-white customers?” she asked. “I mean, this is Chinatown, I'd guess your main business is more local."

  “Oh, if they’re regulars, they know I get a kick out of this form,” said Wong. “And if they’re new, then there’s this.”

  It took only a second, but Wong was suddenly someone else. He was still Asian, but much more understated. He had a short haircut, thin wire rimmed glasses, intense eyes, and a simple grey shirt. He was now a slight man, unlike his previous chubby form. He held this form long enough to wink at Abby and then reverted to his previous form.

  “I’ve been doing this for a while,” said Wong with another wink, “so I have all the bases covered.”

  Abby was still red from embarrassment, so Dane decided to give her a moment.

  "So what about the statue?" asked Dane. "Anything?"

  "Nothing much," said Wong, still in a non-accented tone. "It's wood. Heartwood would be my guess based on the density. I took a few crumbled bits to see if I can learn more about it, but I don't think I'll find much. It's magic, obviously, but not my brand. So of course, I wonder why you brought it to me." He handed Dane the statue back.

  "Not your brand?" asked Abby.

  “There are different types of magic,” said Wong. “I’m more of a magical being. My magic is inherent. I don't use all the symbolism, rituals, and stuff - or at least if I do, it's basic. I don't need the arcane arts to do stuff; technically I am magic. And what I do trade in is more herbal, more Eastern. Closer to Traditional Chinese Medicine and Daoism than what you probably know as magic, Abby. So Dane, you even told me this looked like it was from a ritual site. You know I don’t deal with any of that nonsense. Why didn’t you talk to Alastair first?”

  “That’s something I’ve been trying to avoid,” said Dane with a sigh.

  “Are you two not talking?" asked Wong. “Not that Alastair is my favorite person either, but this is his thing. Do I need to disinvite him from poker?”

  “No, nothing is different than usual. You just know that I don't like to involve him,” said Dane. He sighed again. “I guess it can’t be helped.”

  “Sorry,” said Wong.

  Abby lifted up the glasses and had turned toward Dane who was looking at the statue in his hand. She let out a startled yelp, dropping The Goggles. "It's so bright!"

  Dan
e looked down to the statue in his hand. "Yeah, I tried to take a quick look at the cafe. Magically it's too hot to get anything specific on. It's too much to home in on."

  Abby handed him back The Goggles. "So if these can see through magic, why don’t you use them all the time? Other than everything being yellow, it seems a good advantage."

  “I’ve considered that too,” said Dane, “the problem is they have like a thousand settings, so you’ll never know if you’re not seeing anything or it’s on the wrong setting. It’s like tuning a radio with a massive dial.”

  “But you could see through Wong’s shapeshifting pretty easily,” said Abby. Wong raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, uh, that’s different,” said Dane. “I’ve labeled the setting for Wong.”

  Both Wong and Abby looked at Dane expectantly.

  “He cheats at poker,” said Dane.

  “That’s a total lie,” said Wong, more to Abby than to Dane. His accent returned and he put a hand over his heart. “I would never cheat the honorable Mr. Monday.”

  Dane rolled his eyes.

  “Speaking of which,” said Wong in his regular voice, “are you coming to poker tomorrow night?”

  “It depends on this case,” said Dane. “That always takes priority.”

  “I’m sure the world will survive for one night on its own,” said Wong.

  “I wish that were true,” said Dane, “but it never seems to actually be the case.” He sighed again. “Tell your wife I said hello and that I’ll miss her fine cooking.”

  “My wife is already far too sweet on you for me to pass on any more flattery,” said Wong.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Dane. “She’s your wife and a fox spirit as well. If she’s overly nice to me, she probably wants something from me.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” laughed Wong.

  Warehouse of Doom

  After leaving Wong's, they walked a few blocks to a more well-traveled street. Dane put up his arm to hail a cab and one of New Avalon's yellow cabs stopped in front of him seconds later. Abby thought it was really strange it showed up almost instantaneously. As she looked down the street, she realized it may have even bypassed someone else trying to flag it down to screech to a halt in front of Dane. She just assumed it was Dane's weird luck - or he had some type of automatic cab summoning device in his satchel.

  Once inside, Dane swiped his card on the console. He rattled off the address to the driver through the microphone embedded in the glass. The driver had no noticeable reaction, he just stoically stared forward. But in a moment the car pulled away from the curb, so Dane leaned back in the seat.

  "So we're going to see this Alastair now?" Abby asked.

  "Yeah," said Dane. "I think we can't avoid it now. We'll see what he can make out of it."

  "So what's the deal with you and him?"

  "Oh you know, sometimes there's - hold on a minute. Driver!" barked Dane. "You should have turned at the last street! Driver!"

  "Maybe this is an alternate route," suggested Abby.

  "Maybe, but I'm not paying for the extra distance," said Dane. "We're going in the wrong direction. And even if this was an alternate route, we would have to turn here," said Dane, looking out at window at the passing street and turning his head to follow it.

  The driver did not answer but instead continued to face straight ahead.

  Dane banged on the glass. "Driver! What are you doing? Hey! You! Why are we going over the river?"

  Dane mashed his face against the glass, flattening his cheek to try to get a look in the front seat.

  "Crap," said Dane.

  Abby tried pushing her face against the glass, but she was directly behind the driver and could not see much. "What is it?"

  Dane could see clearly that the driver wore old red and white wool gloves, threadbare and torn. Where there was a hole in the gloves, Dane expected to see the driver's skin. Instead Dane saw the glint of metal. The driver had the collar on his jacket up, but as Dane looked closely, he could see a seam at the edge of the driver's face.

  "A mask!" said Dane. "The driver's wearing a mask!"

  "Why? Are we being robbed?" asked Abby, grabbing a tighter hold of her camera and purse.

  "No, that would be too lucky," said Dane. "I'm pretty sure the driver isn't human!"

  Dane grabbed at the door handle, but the doors all locked simultaneously. The touchscreen console came to life. Instead of the usual New Avalon Yellow Cab touch screen UI, a face appeared, bearded and partially bandaged.

  "Good afternoon, Monday," said the face.

  "Honnenheim," said Dane, a grudging acknowledgement.

  "I'm glad you recognize me despite the wounds I have suffered," said Honnenheim. "Injuries I have you to thank for."

  “What do you want?” said Dane, staring at the screen but grabbing his door handle and vigorously yanking it back and forth, hoping the locks were cheap and he could break them with brute force. Abby did the same to her door with less composure and more panic.

  "Oh, you know, the usual," said Honnenheim almost tiredly. "Revenge, world domination, that sort of thing. But at the moment, we're all going on a little trip. I've arranged a surprise for you at a private location. A thank you gift for my death ray, Monday. I apologize to your associate for including her on this trip, but some things just can't be helped."

  “Thanks,” said Abby sarcastically. She didn't know the history of Dane and this man, but she was fairly sure the man on the screen was a bad guy and she was in danger through no fault of her own. Again.

  Out the windows, they were now over the bridge and the buildings were looking shabbier and more vacant. They were travelling into the old warehouse district, the Husks.

  “Monday, I appreciate you as an opponent," said Honnenheim. "While the destruction of my death ray sets back years of research and innumerable resources, I realize that only an opponent worthy of my genius could have beaten me. So in a way, the fact that such a worthy opponent was able to inflict such a setback shows my genius.”

  “That doesn’t even make any sense,” said Abby.

  “These speeches rarely do,” said Dane with a sigh.

  “It is because you are such a worthy opponent that I revel in getting the advantage of you here, as only someone of my genius and intellect could do. I am speaking to you now because I wanted you to know that it is I who triumphed over you. I wanted you to know that it was I who outsmarted you.”

  “Oh crap,” said Dane. “He’s gloating! He's in the gloating phase already! That's bad!”

  Dane kicked in the touch screen, which shattered easily. Honnenheim's voice continued through the cab's speakers as he spoke about how only through his genius had he prevailed. Dane began picking through the console until he disconnected the microphone, camera, and speaker wires. Honnenheim’s voice cut out.

  “There, at least he can’t hear us now,” said Dane, "and we don't have to listen to him innumerate his genius."

  “What do you mean he’s gloating?” asked Abby. “I mean, I know what that is, but why is it bad?”

  Dane opened up his satchel, looking for anything that could help. “If a mad scientist decides you’re a worthy enemy, he’s not just going to kill you outright. That's below him. It's too quick, too unsatisfying, too whatever - pick your reason depending on the mania. A mad scientist needs to gloat about how he bested you, making him feel better about himself by shoving his triumph in your face - in fact, I think that's the only way a mad scientist can improve their self image. So anyway, if we were just going to the location, typical operating procedure states that he would show up and gloat before killing us. That would give us time to escape. But if he’s gloating on the way there…”

  “Oh god, he’s going to kill us,” said Abby.

  “Right,” said Dane. “This death attempt is coming much quicker. He may not even be planning to show up. And what's that crap? What kind of mad scientist kills someone by remote video? The other mad scientists shoul
d disbarr him over this. Maybe I'll send a note to Mad Doctor Romanov..."

  "Dane, focus!" said Abby. "What are we going to do?"

  The car slowed to a stop. Abby looked out the window. The car had stopped at a fenced gate and was now waiting for the agonizingly slow gate to open.

  “Looks like we’re here,” said Dane. “I think priority one is getting out of this car.”

  Dane opened his satchel and began digging for anything to help - he should have had the contents memorized by this point, yet he still fumbled through them, looking for a way each could help in this situation. “Signal jammer, athame, gas grenade, holy water, screwdriver… dammit, I wasn't thinking I'd deal with a robot cab today!”

  “Don’t you have anything useful in there?” Abby asked. "Like a gun or something?" She opened up her own purse to look for something.

  "These are all useful!” said Dane defensively before letting his tone drop. “Just... not at this moment! Goggles, gas mask… hmm, just one gas mask,” he said looking up at her. “Maybe you should buy a gas mask, I mean, if I ever need to use a gas grenade or something, I only have one mask.”

  “Dane, focus!” said Abby again, tossing lint and crumpled receipts out of her purse. The gate was almost open.

  “Let’s see," said Dane. "Rocket bike keychain, demonic ledger, wooden stake. Hmm, this stake is splintering. I really need to make a new one of these.”

  “We’re not going to stab our way out of this car,” said Abby. “Why do you have everything but the one thing that would be useful for getting out of a car?”

  “I’m usually not trapped in cars, so I don’t plan for it,” said Dane. “Besides, what would be useful for getting out of a car?”