The Night the Devil Cried

Chapter 3: Ruthless Savior

Pleased to meet you, hope you've guessed my name

But what's puzzling you is the nature of my game

Sympathy for the Devil

The Rolling Stones

Dr. Barnabas Mandragore sat in the quiet, bare walled chamber that served as the visitation room in Cold Storage. Though there were many people in the world who would have loved to see him inside the walls of the arctic super-prison on a long-term basis, at this time it was in the capacity of a visitor.

The moment he arrived he had been under constant armed guard, his every move watched by guards with their weapons leveled at him and monitored by security that had wall-mounted energy weapons trained on him. He did not even blink at the large number of small red dots that danced across him, indicating the laser sights of all the weapons aimed at him.

He did not care. They all meant nothing to him. He was here for one purpose, and one alone. He had come to this frozen hell to get what was needed to save the life of a little boy who lay dying in a hospital thousands of miles away. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing.

He had been strip searched and x-rayed to ensure he did not carry anything on him that was a possible weapon. His skull-handled walking stick had proven to be just that, nothing but oak and silver, so he had been allowed to keep it as he apparently did need it to walk.

It wasn't that anyone was afraid that Dr. Mandragore would break anyone out, but considering the history between him and the one he was here to visit, it was still very likely his intentions were hardly benevolent.

The door on the other side of the room opened, and the guards entered. With them was the tall, powerfully built object of Dr. Mandragore's quest.

Baron Battle.

Dr. Mandragore had known the full extent of what had happened to his former enemy, but it still did not prepare him for the personal encounter. He remembered the smiling, handsome young giant with the eyes that, though dark as shadow, sparkled like gems, the lion's mane of black hair that always seemed to be blown by a secret wind.

Gone. Though as big as ever, Baron's entire demeanor had changed. His eyes were those of a mad animal, shifting back and forth constantly. His head had been shorn so that only black stubble remained. The vicious, blood red scar looked as fresh as when it had first been opened up by the Commander when he struck the blow that ended his former friend's mad rampage.

Baron took the seat across from Dr. Mandragore; the adamantine chains adorning him were shackled to the concrete chair and floor. In this room a power neutralizer kept Baron from accessing his powers, but he was still very big and strong, and no one was taking any chances. Once he was secured the guards left them alone.

Silence reigned for minutes. Both men looked at each other.

Here was the ultimate irony. The mighty hero was now a hated criminal in prison, while the villain was free and on a mission of mercy.

"He sent you, didn't he?" Baron finally spoke. Even his voice seemed different somehow. The rich baritone now seemed hollow, as if he were speaking from a great distance.

"I have come on my own, Baron," said Dr. Mandragore, "the Commander had nothing to do with this.'

Baron sneered. The look was totally alien to Dr. Mandragore.

"Don't lie to me. I should have known he would try to use you against me. You always hated me, Barnabas. You both did."

"I never hated you, Baron," said Dr. Mandragore, repeating the words he had spoken to the heroic image of Baron he maintained in his home. "And neither does Steven."

"Oh, its Steven now, is it?" spat Baron. "I can just see the two of you together…laughing at me. But you won't laugh forever…I'll get out. Somehow."

"Enough," hissed Dr. Mandragore, "I am not here to listen to your paranoid ranting. I am here for Warren."

"Don't you dare…" growled Baron, his every huge muscle tensing, "don't you touch my son, you bastard."

"NOW you care about him," snarled Dr. Mandragore, leaning forward even as Baron was, their eyes locking. "NOW you worry about him…where the hell was that worry a couple of months ago Baron? Where was your paternal concern when you and the rest of the vermin in the Brotherhood did what you did?"

"How DARE you judge me," Baron said, "you of all people? After all you have done you think you can walk in here and look down your nose at me?

"This is NOT about me, Baron, or even you for that matter."

Dr. Mandragore, sat back, took a deep breath and composed himself.

"Warren is dying, Baron. He is slowly burning alive…it is caused by the same energy that increased your powers after the accident years ago. I need to analyze it…study it. I am positive that he can be cured."

Baron laughed, a sound that sent a sheet of ice through Dr. Mandragore. The laughter was sick, almost like he was vomiting.

"How STUPID do you think I am?" Baron snarled, "You want to take my power away, make me weak so you can do whatever you want to me…my family."

"Your family," said Dr. Mandragore, "is in tatters, you fool. Angelica is under sedation after having a nervous breakdown…she was suicidal over what you did.

"Warren's power has manifested itself, Baron. The stress of the entire ordeal has caused him to actually burst into flames…but now his body cannot handle it. He has the strength of both you and Angelica, and that is the only thing that has kept him from being reduced to ashes. But that cannot last forever. Time is running out Baron. Please, for the life of your son you claim to love…help me."

"No."

Dr. Mandragore was shocked…horrified by what he heard. The man's own son was at death's door and he was REFUSING to help?

Anger was swiftly turning to hatred, but Dr. Mandragore, above all things, was a man who could see many angles of a subject, and knew what was going on.

Baron had not said it.

It was the tumor.

The inoperable tumor that had clouded Baron's mind and driven him slowly mad…made him turn on his friends and align himself with the members of the Brotherhood. It was now making him see everyone as an enemy out to get him…enemies that would do or say anything to hurt him.

Baron did not believe Warren was sick.

"I understand," said Dr. Mandragore, standing as if he was going to leave, "you do not believe me Baron, but I understand.

"Now you will understand this…"

The walking stick Dr. Mandragore was carrying suddenly flashed a brilliant green light that bathed the room. Baron looked around, alarm growing on his face. The sight sickened Dr. Mandragore.

"We are now in, for all intents and purposes old friend, a time warp. Every minute here is a millisecond outside of this room. What we have to…accomplish here will not take but a moment, but it will seem as if nothing happened to those watching us on their monitors. But you and I…" he approached the now struggling Baron, raising the stick, "will know otherwise."

"What…" Baron stammered, all his paranoid delusions now coming to life before his eyes, "what are you going to do?"

"I need to study the energy coursing through you Baron," whispered Dr. Mandragore, "you will not give me the specifics of its wavelength, its frequency, any of it. But I know a way to get it…all that I need as a matter of fact."

Baron was now struggling violently with his chains, but it was useless. The time warp only affected time, not the power-neutralizing field.

"How…how are you doing this?"

"Simple," Dr. Mandragore smiled, "I am a scientist…a man of logic and reason…a man who can be scanned for any possible device or weapon known to man…or superman.

"I am, however, married to a witch. One who is capable of creating many wondrous items that science cannot fathom or duplicate…like this walking stick. She wove many spells into it before presenting it to me as a wedding gift…it was her means of making sure I am safe. She told me that for all my vaunted science…all it would take would be a faulty circuit or a loose wire and I would be helpless to an uncertain fate.

"But now," he said, his whispering voice growing more intense as he stalked his helpless opponent, "I shall use this to save an innocent soul from a horrible fate…one more fitting for you and I."

The skull on the cane began to glow red.

"Another useful ability Lucretia gave this comes from her knowledge of me. She knows I am a constant collector of interesting items, so she made this a…storage unit if you will. I can collect anything I want and it is held in perfect stasis until I deem its release for my personal study."

Dr. Mandragore placed the skull-head on the muscular chest of his enemy, whose thrashing stopped with the cold touch.

"I will have your help in saving your son Baron. Your madness prevents you from seeing it now, but in time you will."

Baron screamed.

The skull head flushed a deep crimson as it started drawing out what its master desired.

The energy-laden blood from the very heart of Baron Battle flowed into the staff.

Both men shook with the transfer; the intimacy of it was both wonderful and terrible.

When it ended, Baron went limp, his breathing coming in ragged gasps.

"D…damn you…" sobbed Baron.

Dr. Mandragore gently placed his hand on Baron's head then traced his finger down the jagged scar on the side of his face. He grasped Baron's chin, forcing his head up to look him in his eyes. At one time that would have been impossible, but the combination of the neutralizer and the blood loss rendered Baron weak…vulnerable.

It would take nothing to kill him.

"You curse me now, old friend,' he whispered gently, "but one day you will thank me. I go now to save Warren, but you will never see me again…until the day I can cure you as well."

With one last ounce of strength, Baron spit into his face.

He only smiled, not bothering to wipe it away as he sat back in his chair and turned the time warp off.

"I'm ready to go guards," he called to those listening outside, "our business is finished here."

"I strongly suggest you keep him sedated for the next few days," Dr. Mandragore said to the head of security as he was being escorted to the transport, "I'm afraid the news about his son has proven quite traumatic for him."

"Did you get what you needed to cure the boy?" Although the head of security was a super powered man who would have no problem holding his own with many of the super felons incarcerated in his care, he was also the father of three children and would move heaven and earth if one of them was ill. He didn't care what Dr. Mandragore might have done; all he saw was someone trying to save a child.

"I have all that I require," smiled Dr. Mandragore as he climbed aboard the transport, "it was actually quite easy once I explained things to him.

"You might say I touched his heart."

"M…Mommy…?"

Warren slowly came awake, his eyes unable to focus clearly at first. He knew he was in a dimly lit room, and could hear strange beeping and humming, but that was all.

"I'm here baby."

Warren was able to focus on the beautiful face of his mother. He saw the halo of snow- white hair and the deep green eyes he knew so well. He could smell her perfume. The sound of her voice was a comfort that chased all shadows away.

"Mommy, I had…I had a bad dream." Warren whispered.

"It's okay," Angelica said to her son as she stroked his hair she had just finished washing with a damp cloth, "it's all going to be better very soon. Go back to sleep now.'

"Okay…" Warren smiled, and was again in a deep slumber. This time it was the true sleep of peace that would bring rest and revitalization. The first he had had in nearly two months.

Once Warren was asleep Angelica stepped away from the bed and removed a silver ring from her finger. He white hair became as black as a raven's feathers, her features changed, but became a different form of beauty as her eyes became blue and her white dress became a dark blue gown.

Lucretia Mandragore longed to once again stroke Warren's hair…to hold his small form in her arms as she had been doing ever since her husband had given him the serum derived from the heart's blood of the boy's father.

The blood that contained the agent that stopped Warren's power from consuming him and would one day enable him to master it.

Dr. Mandragore stood against the far wall, not wanting to disturb his wife. It seemed that they both looked upon Warren as one of their own children even as the Commander and Jetstream did. Lucretia and Josie had taken turns using the magical doppelganger ring to assume Angelica's form in case Warren awakened crying for his mother as he had just done. Both women had taken turns washing his frail body, keeping him clean and nurturing him as best they could.

"Angelica will be here soon," Dr. Mandragore informed his wife, "she has made spectacular progress under your care."

"All I did was send her dreams," said Lucretia without taking her eyes off Warren, "I merely sent the dreams and visions of what was happening to Warren, to spur her on to fight to overcome what had happened. I knew that would provide her with all the strength and determination a mother would need. Nothing is stronger than that."

"I am afraid it is time for us to go," said Dr. Mandragore, taking his wife by the arm, "we should not be here when Angelica arrives. I have had enough awkward meetings with past acquaintances to last me a lifetime."

Lucretia turned to look at her husband, and saw him staring into the corner where he said he had seen the tall, foreboding shadow only a short time ago.

"He is gone Barnabas," she told her husband, "you have thwarted him just as you promised. I am proud of you."

He turned to regard his wife. "I am glad, my beloved. I would gladly have taken Warren's place, you know."

"I know," said Lucretia, "and I love you all the more for it. You must be careful though, someone may actually start referring to you as a hero."

They both laughed gently at that as they left the room.

It was the last time either of them would see Warren for years.

Once the room was again quiet, a strange shimmering light appeared and when it faded, someone else was in the room.

Marduke Mandragore, oldest son of the two who had just left, slowly approached the bed where Warren lay sleeping. Once there, he looked at the sleeping boy who was only a few months younger than him. He noticed the strange red streaks in Warren's hair and wondered how they had gotten there, but thought they looked nice.

He then gently placed the gift he had brought onto the bed within easy reach of Warren should he need it.

It looked like a simple stuffed teddy bear, but Marduke had made it from special flame resistant materials in the event Warren's powers should flare up again. He did not want his new friend to lose anything else because of a fire.

He stood there for a few minutes, knowing he would have to leave quickly before someone found him. He did not care about having to explain his presence; it was no one else's business. He didn't want Warren to be disturbed.

"Someday," whispered Marduke as he reached over and put his hand on Warren's shoulder, "we'll be best friends…just like our dads."

The walls of Mandragore castle rang with the sounds of joy.

Warren was alive and on his way to a complete recovery.

But it had come at a terrible price. The boy had evidently suffered minor brain damage from the initial trauma and the fever he had struggled through. He had forgotten everything from the point of his father's capture and trial until the moment he awakened in the hospital. Any memory of the Stronghold's trying to adopt him was gone.

It had again broken the hearts of the two heroes, but they agreed it be for the best that he not be told about it. His mother was recovered, and she had friends and family who would help her with her son.

Still, it had turned the taste bitter in the mouths of the villains. They had put everything on the line, and thought it was all for nothing. But Dr. Mandragore pointed out to them that it had not been for nothing. It had made each and every one of them take a look inside and realize that for all their crimes and petty spites, they had tried to save a little child who had supposed to mean nothing to them, and instead had become their own son.

Blowhard sat back in a big comfortable chair, swilling beer in one hand while he tried to focus on playing the set of bagpipes he had insisted on bringing with him. Tried though he might it still sounded like cats being skinned alive.

Black Ice used her powers to create a huge block of ice perfectly formed into the life size image of Warren. His face was an expression of joy as crystal flames danced about him, creating a prismatic effect on the lights.

Rockabilly had sung himself hoarse. He had shaken the rafters with every spiritual song of thanksgiving he knew, and was now content to sit and drink and laugh with the others at Blowhard's valiant attempts to make music.

Tyrannosaur, still abnormally quiet, was nonetheless far more jovial than before. He had been so happy at Warren's recovery, but dejected that he could not go see the boy.

Dr. Barnabas Mandragore sat in his great high-backed chair, looking at the enormous glass sphere before him. He looked at the gently bubbling green liquid within it. He looked at what the liquid was holding.

A snifter of brandy and a half-empty bottle sat on the small table next to his chair. It had been the first time he had indulged in any drinking since the ordeal began, and he felt he deserved it.

He looked at the sphere, at the liquid and its contents. It was the result of his alternate plan, one hatched in the event he had failed to get Baron's assistance willing or otherwise.

Both plans had borne fruit.

Now he was left with the dilemma he did not think he would have to deal with. Was he that desperate? Had he simply ignored it?

There was no ignoring it now. The deed was done and there would be no undoing it.

He would not destroy the liquid and its contents; such a thing would be a greater sin than what he had done to Baron.

No, destroying it was out of the question. But there was something that could be done.

There was always something.

"Barnabas?"

Lucretia entered the dark laboratory, surprised to find her husband there.

"What are you doing here? Our friends are upstairs all calling for you. What is so important that…"

She had come up beside the chair and put her hand on her husband's shoulder when she saw the sphere.

She saw the warm green liquid.

She saw what was floating in it.

"Dear God, Barnabas," she gasped as she clenched her husband's shoulder, "what have you done?"

In response he put his hand on his wife's. She looked down and saw him smiling back up at her. His eyes held a look that was neither mad nor drunk. They were perfectly sober…perfectly sane.

For one of the very few times in her life, Lucretia Mandragore was afraid.

The End