Epilog

The man was rather ironically young, actually much younger than I was expecting. We met at the small building I'd had constructed where the old and blocky office had stood. He seemed to take personal offense at the fact that I'd had the new, very small structure put up with my own money on my own property. Of course, like many archeologists, he seemed to take any deliberate change to the landscape as a personal offense.

Masks XXVIII: Old School

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part Eight

Masks XXVIII: Old School

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part Six

The Monday morning briefing at the Detroit office of the Bureau of Special Resources was always interesting. This one was especially so. Only partly due to having two special guest speakers.

Masks XXVIII: Old School

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part Four

Vic and her boss were meeting one of the archivists working to examine and conserve the Operators' lair and its contents. The three of them were all currently seated in Drake's small office.

"We finally heard from a family member of one of the Operators," said the archivist. "She's a great-granddaughter of Captain Sticky, and an Internet influencer. She uses the online name Hannah Anna Banana."

"Ow," said Vic, wincing. "It's not even that popular of a song."

Masks XXVIII: Old School

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part Three

"Turkey Jerky?" said Cal, reaching over to hold out a bag to his office mate.

"Thanks," said Vic. She gave a huge sigh as she accepted some of the smoked meat.

"You seem down."

"It's just... there are so many things which are just... hanging. The 'You're Arrested' mask murders, the identity of whoever hired those guys to steal the balance blades, the mastermind behind the fake volcano and that radioactive android at the Super Combat islands..."

Masks XXVIII: Old School

by

Rodford Edmiston

Part One

Vic's new helmet was slightly bulkier than the previous one, but it was also actually lighter. Drake had called Vic to his office for the presentation. While her boss read aloud the note which came in the box, Vic examined her new headgear.

"Ugh," she said, peering it from various angles. "Looks like something a Star Wars Stormtrooper would wear."

In spite of this opinion she put it on. At least it fit well.

A little something to hold people while I complete the next Masks story. This is set in the same world as "The Master of Cuts" and "In the Hollow of the Devil's Hand."

Dog and Butterfly

by

Rodford Edmiston

She was dealing with another of the old man's challenges. She was to go covert, on her own, in strange territory, staying hidden for a full twenty-four hours. That meant avoiding all contact, leaving no trace. Which meant not feeding.

He'd left Calli on the outskirts of a New Orleans subdivision, less than two hours before dawn.

Part Seven

Vic was back at the office - though still on restricted duty - the next day. She was almost fully healed; one of the benefits of regeneration. Her appetite was about back to normal as well.