There Goes the Neighborhood

There Goes the Neighborhood

Mark A Davis

274

In a suburb of Frosthaven, NJ sat a home that was modest in most respects.  It had a nicely manicured lawn, Rhododendron bushes all along the front, and a path of paving stones leading to the front door.  The iron knocker -- depicting a glaring demon -- was a clue that not everything about this abode was so unassuming, but of course, before you ever reached the door you would have seen the looming, Gothic tower of black stone attached to the left side of the house, which stabbed the sky like the gauntleted fist of a goblin raised in defiance.

This was the home of Professor Victorian Honesty St. Normal, a scientist who spent much of his time holed up in his tower working his inventions.  He seemed a very decent fellow, for the most part.  It was true that the top of his tower was home to giant black raptors with fierce steel talons and blood red eyes, and no one was quite sure what kind of birds these were -- but this wasn't exactly against the neighborhood covenant, and they certainly helped keep the rats, raccoons, and stray dogs away.  It was true that his butler and right-hand man was called Igor, and that he had a humped shoulder and walked with a limp -- but he'd never been seen near the city cemetery, so people were mostly convinced that no scientific necromancy or raising of flesh golems was afoot.  And while sometimes mad laughter could be heard echoing from within the black tower in the early hours of the morning, people were willing to forgive these oddities.  After all, everyone had their quirks, and compared to his reckless and devil-may-care neighbor, Professor St. Normal seemed nearly like an ordinary, upstanding citizen.

At the moment, all of Frosthaven's most important men were gathered in the large round room that formed the base of St. Normal Tower.  Here was Mayor Paxton, and Chief of Police Roberts.  Here also were millionaire businessmen Mr. Solace Brown and Mr. Anthony Von Essen.  Everyone who was anyone was present.

On several low coffee tables were pots of coffee, tea, and several open boxes of cookies.

Professor St. Normal stood before them.  He wore a tweed suit with a white lab coat and had brass goggles shoved up on his forehead.  His black hair stuck out in all directions like an old and abused paint brush.  His dark-skinned, hump-backed servant waited nearby.  The center of the room was dominated by something quite large, which at the moment was hidden beneath white cloth.

"Gentlemen," the professor exclaimed, "I'm so very pleased that you could join me today!  I have been working many years towards this day and I didn't want anyone of any importance to miss out on my great revelation!  For you see, tonight I am prepared to reveal my life's work, the device which I have been crafting for the last fifteen years -- ever since I built this building in 1907!"

Mr. Brown looked quite bored.  "Yes, I'm sure it's a marvelous invention indeed," he said.  "Can we hurry this along?  I have very important business to attend to...."

"Of course," replied the professor.  "You are all very important and powerful people and I do not mean to impose on your time more than is necessary -- never mind that I have contributed to all of your campaigns or in other ways supported you all in your business."

The professor gestured.  "Igor, if you please."  Igor pulled on a long rope, and the cloth fell away, revealing a large and imposing device.  It was clearly a gun of some sort -- but what a weapon!  As large as a howitzer or a smaller battleship turret gun, the thing looked more like something out of Buck Rogers than a conventional rifled weapon.  Mounted on a rotating base, with a padded seat at one end where the operator was meant to sit, the device had a long barrel with concentric rings encircling it, which grew smaller as the neared the end of the nozzle.  There were copper tubes and coils and wires, and it was quite impossible to tell what exactly the weapon did.

"My God!" exclaimed the Chief of Police.

"What in the world is it?" asked the Mayor.

"I only have two questions," said Mr. Von Essen.  "Does it work, and how much do you think  the U.S. Military will pay for it?"

"Oh, Mr. Von Essen!" exclaimed the professor.  "I'm not planning to sell it!  I wish to make my money in a far more direct manner!"  He flipped a switch on the wall.  Steel bands sprang out of the chairs in which the gathered men sat, encircling their arms, wrists, ankles, and waists.  All of them were trapped.

"What is the meaning of this?" exclaimed Mr. Brown, struggling to free himself.  "I demand you set us free now!"

"No, I think not," the professor replied.  "But do not worry:  I do not intend any harm to any of you.  That is why you are here, within the safety of my tower.

"Gentlemen, I give you the St. Normal Motivational Raygun.  I call it a motivational raygun because it is my fondest and most sincere hope that it will motivate you gentlemen to reward me with one million dollars."  He flipped another switch on the wall, and a round window slid open, allowing the weapon to aim out at the evening sky.  "You see," Professor St. Normal said, "from my tower I am able to aim anywhere in the city.

"As I'm sure you are all aware, matter is made up of elementary molecules.  The beam from my raygun excites those molecules.  It drives them into a frenzy and causes them to explode."  The professor spread his hands out, simulating an explosion.  He smiled brightly.  "Oh, it's! quite an amazing sight, let me tell you!  I tested it last night.  But for the real demonstration I shall be targeting city hall."

"No!" exclaimed the mayor.  "You monster!  The people!"

Professor St. Normal smiled.  "Oh, I expect a few people will die -- but nobody important, eh?  You cannot make an omelet without breaking a few eggs, after all!  Shall we begin?"

Just then the doorbell rang.

Professor St. Normal frowned.  He glanced at his companion  "Igor, see who it is.  If it's those cursed Brownie Scouts, then tell them we've already purchased a dozen boxes and we really don't need any more."

"Yes, Master," Igor replied.  He shuffled towards the door.

"Igor, wait!" the professor called out.  "I changed my mind!  If it is the Brownie Scouts, then I want three more boxes of the chocolate chip, and two of the mint!"

Moments later a young man shoved his way past Igor and into the room.   He wore a white shirt with suspenders and gray pants.  he grinned at the professor and extended his hand.  "Hello, neighbor!  My name's Paul -- better known as Kid Anarchy!  I live in the mansion next door!"

Professor St. Normal shook hands.  "Yes, I remember," he said disdainfully.  "You were gifted that mansion when that annoying busybody the Gentleman Brawler met his doom.  Unfortunately you're quite a bit like him, aren't you?"

"Oh, I fight crime, that's true," Kid Anarchy replied.  "It's the only thing I know how to do...."

"Kid Anarchy!" exclaimed Mayor Paxton.

"Oh!  Hello, Mayor Paxton!" exclaimed the young man.  "And Chief Roberts too!"

"We're shackled to these chairs, you fool!" the Chief of Police exclaimed.

"I can see that!" Kid Anarchy replied cheerfully.  "You've got quite a party here, I see!  Just look at that weapon -- that's a Death Ray if ever I saw one!  Well I won't keep you.  You see, I just wanted to borrow a cup of sugar -- Miss Bloodraven and I -- that's my companion you know, she fights crime with me, she can turn into a raven or a crow -- we was making a banana creme pie, only wouldn't you know it, we're plum out of sugar!  Could we borrow a cup?  I'll pay you back, honest injun!"

The professor glared at the young crime fighter, then said, "Igor, would you get this creti... that is, this nice young man a cup of sugar?"

"Yes, Master," Igor replied.  "This way, Master Anarchy."

Igor led Kid Anarchy down the hall.  "My grandmother was Cherokee, you know," he said as they stepped into the kitchen.

"Pardon?" Kid Anarchy replied.  "Really?  I thought you were from Eastern Europe.  Some place like Transylvania."

"Igor is not my real name, you know," the servant said as he retrieved a measuring cup and a box of sugar.  "That's just what Master calls me -- it's a kind of professional sobriquet or nom de plume.   My actual name is Dave -- David Lightfeather.  But the job required someone under five feet tall with a hunched shoulder, and that's me.  You know how it is.

"I thought I'd mention it because you' might want to not use that phrase honest injun.  Some people might find it offensive."  He steered Kid Anarchy back to the front door, cup of sugar in hand.  "Have a good night, Master Anarchy."

"I'll... keep that in mind," Kid Anarchy replied.  "Scout's honor!"  Igor winced as the door closed.  He returned to the round tower room.

"Ah.  Very good," said Professor St. Normal.  "Now, where were we?  Oh yes -- I was about to fire my weapon on city hall...."

The doorbell rang again.  Igor went to open it.  Kid Anarchy stood on the porch.

"Eggs?" asked the servant.  "Flour, perhaps?"

Kid Anarchy scratched his head.  "No, nothing like that," he sadi.  "Look, I'm sorry to bother you again, but those giant raptors that you keep in your aerie tower, they're making an awful racket...."

"They are not raptors," Igor stated.  "Not in the way you understand the word, at least."

"Well," said Kid Anarchy, "I was wondering if you could feed them or do whatever it is you do to settle them down?  Only we picked up one of those newfangled radios last month -- isn't modern technology a marvel?  You can sit right in your own home and listen to world-class music and then the news is delivered straight to you, no need to even go to the porch to grab the newspaper!  And drama -- why, I was listening to a drama last night that about knocked my socks off.  See, there was this gal who was about to get married when her beau turned up dead.  Murdered!  And the police thought it was her, but...."

Kid Anarchy's voice drifted off.  He said, "Well, I won't bore you by retelling the whole story, but it was a firecracker of a tale, I'll say that.  But you see, the signal from New York is kinda weak in this part of town, and it's hard to listen to over all the bird noise -- whatever they are."

"Very well, I will see what I can do," Igor replied with a sigh.  "Now, my Master has a very important meeting as you may have noticed.  If there's nothing else you need from us?"

"No, that was it," Kid Anarchy replied.  "Have fun with your party!"

Back in the round room, the professor listened carefully for a full ten seconds before saying, "Now, if the interruptions have ceased, I will...."

The doorbell rang.  "Gods of Hades!" the professor swore as Igor limped for the door.  "If it's that imbecile again, then I'm going to...."

Igor reappeared with several boxes of cookies.  "It was just the Brownie Scouts, Master," he said.  "Three boxes of chocolate chip and two of mint, just as you asked."

"Ah," the professor said.  "Very good.  Set them down over there.  Now, if that...."

He got no further.  The doorbell rang again.

"Hello, Neighbor!" a familiar voice called out.  Kid Anarchy appeared.  "I almost forgot to ask, but would you consider donating to a fund for the Millard Fillmore Orphanage for Disadvantaged Youth?  Only I'm supposed to solicit for them and what with fighting crime all the time I usually forget.  But I know the little orphans would really appreciate it!"

  "Mister Anarchy," said Professor St. Normal, speaking very carefully, "I do not take you for a stupid man.  Could it be that you are not here to complain about my birds or solicit for an orphanage?  Could it possibly be that you have deduced that I am holding the most powerful men of the city hostage and about to use my new weapon against the city?  Are you, in reality, here to stop me?"

Kid Anarchy raised an eyebrow.  "Weeeell," he said, "I can't deny that I've been keeping tabs on you.  But you see, you're a citizen of Frosthaven just like me, and we can't have ordinary citizens attacking each other unprovoked.

"At least, that's what the Mayor and the Chief of Police tell me.  After that incident at the Waverly Mansion last month, they explained it to me in no uncertain terms:  I am not an officially sanctioned member of the police force, I'm just an ordinary citizen, and when I take the law into my own hands it's considered vigilantism.  I've caused the mayor's office far too many headaches and caused far too much damage, and the next time I rush into a private residence without authorization for any reason he's going to toss me in the hoosegow.

"So you see," Kid Anarchy added, "I couldn't possibly be here to fight you...."

"Oh for Heaven's Sake!" exclaimed Mayor Paxton.  "Fine!  Kid Anarchy, you have the authority!  As Mayor of Frosthaven, I swear it!"

"Why thank you, Mr. Mayor," said Kid Anarchy, and punched Professor St. Normal in the jaw.

FINI