Page 9 - The Big Confrontation

"What are we doing here?" grumbled Strong for at least the 20th time. "This is a waste of time. What about your research?"

"Shh!" the girls said simultaneously, sick of hearing it all. "Listen Strong," continued Willow, suprisingly calm considering how long she had been dealing with Strong's irritation. "If Riddle thinks this is a good idea, then we should go ahead and do it. You've always said you trust her instincts more than any other source of information. Is this different?"

"No," Strong replied sourly. It wasn't the first time she had said that, either, but even the accuracy of her supposition couldn't assuage his seething annoyance. This felt all wrong to him, no matter how right it might feel to Riddle. Ralking to their enemy in this calm and sedate fashion. Sure, Mastermind had never lied to them before, but wouldn't that make now an excellant time to start? They knew from experience that Mastermind laid plans over many, many years. It didn't seem beyond the reasonable to think that the only reason he had never lied to them was so that when he finally did, they would never expect it. And yet here they sat, not at all on the offensive, not at all defensively, in this observatory, waiting for him, playing his puppets. This is just what he'd want, Strong thought to himself. Us here, impotent, waiting for him...he could be doing anything while we're waiting in here, twiddling our thumbs. "He's not going to come, though. Just you wait and see, this is a trap, we're going to be gassed or electrocuted or something, incapcitated, and he's going to imprison us, and then he'll be free to do as he pleases, anything he pleases."

With a sigh, Willow decided that it might just be best to ignore him. She was worried too, certainly, but she didn't think that they were about to be attacked. A small part of her wondered if she should be. Riddle seemed entirely unconcerned, though, and Willow used that unconcern to strengthen her personal norm of nonchalance. For her own part, Riddle was examining the array of astronomical equipment around the room. A huge, spectacular telescope dominated the ceiling area, though it had no eye piece. Instead, a bank of computer monitors on one wall showed the moon, Saturn, and a rather random looking collection of stars. Meanwhile, yet another computer quietly computed numbers endlessly in one corner, while a technician adjusted what appeared to be some optics, paying no attention to them at all. "Please, Strong," she said, not letting her comments distract her as she inspected what appeared to be an advanced camera of some sort, "try to relax. I honestly do not think we are in any danger. Willow, have you ever seen a camera like this? Sir, what type of camera is this?"

The technician looked up from what he was doing. "Oh, I was looking for that," he said, coming over and picking it up. He was wearing special gloves to protect the equipment he handled from electric shocks, static, and other such dangers. Hesitating, he asked "You all, you're here with the Mastermind's say so, right?" he asked, and he didn't continue until Riddle nodded. "It's a custom job, ma'am. It was Chief Astronomer's idea, and the rest of us have been working on it ever since. You know how the atmosphere causes disruption to all optics, meaning that telescopes on earth or, rather, beneath the atmosphere, can only get so good, right? Well, we can't exactly launch a satellite, not without upsetting a lot of people, and, well, judging from the way your friend talks, you are just the sort who would never believe that we'd only launched it because we were curious about crab nebula." He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry ma'am, but it's true. That's where this camera comes in. The idea is to...well, it's complicated. I probably shouldn't go into too much detail. Sorry ma'am."

"It's alright, I understand," Riddle smiled reassuringly. The technician nodded, and went back to work.

"What are we doing..." but Strong didn't get to finish his complaint this time, for just as he started to speak, the door opened.

The Mastermind stepped through, smirking slightly, and behind him came a tall man they had come to know as Butler, who closed the door behind himself. As Mastermind stood waiting, silently, the Butler walked over to the lab worker, spoke to him quietly for a moment. The lab specialist blinked for a moment, looking surprised, then very carefully set down the electronics he had been working on before hurriedly leaving the room. The butler followed at a stately place that still some how kept up with the speedy technician, and closed the door after him. Then he pulled out a key, locked the door, and turned around, standing in front of the door like a guard.

"So, You guys are the hero's, huh?" the Mastermind smiled warmly, the shocked expressions on their faces not seeming to phase him at all. "Nice to meet you! My name is Alexander Reynolds, and you have a problem."

This pronoucement, though, far from producing aid of any sort, simply resulted in a complete and total silence. Strong's eyes were wide and his jaw wide open, he didn't even seem to be breathing. Willow, meanwhile, simply stared, blinking occassionally, not moving in any other way. Riddle looked like someone had hit her hard in the face, it was obvious from her stricken expression that this had surprised her, an experience she had almost never had before, given the multitude of psionic abilities she commanded. Alexander just looked crestfallen, and found himself vaguely wondering if it was something about the name "Alexander Reynolds" that produced this kind of amazed stupor in those he spoke to. As for the Butler, he just smiled slightly. He wasn't particularly surprised, but he was amused. Apparently what he had told Reynolds about his name had not quite sunk in, for Alexander was blinking in confusion when he shouldn't have been shocked at all.

Then again, Butler thought, Reynolds had been right about one thing. The heroes would never, ever accidentally confuse him with the Mastermind.

Room descriptions part 1 (1 of 5 descriptions)

Late night showed it's colors in shades of black and blue as she arrived, exhausted and alone, at home at last. Everything was the same as it always was, but seemed some how more mysterious for the lack of light. Her sofa, rather than looking drab and old, looked fresh in the faint moonlight, and she sat down, wondering vaguely if magic was possible. A slight breeze moved the blackness that could only be her drapes, stirring the plants arrayed on the coffee table, causing their branches to dance slightly. Everything seemed silhouetted against the stark paleness of the walls, the blackness of the furniture against the eerie blue pale paint making the room seem larger than it really was. Would she remember any of this in the morning? When she awoke and looked upon her old TV, her pathetic couch, her dented and scratched table and her dying plants highlighted in the unforgiving light of the sun, would any part of her think of the ghostly spell cast by this moonlight? Exhausted, she went to bed. It was not her first late night out, and it would not be her last, and the only thing that made it worth while was the unexpected thrill of the moonlight on her sad, lonely life.