2005-04-05 - 3:07 p.m.

The Things We do For Love: A Valentines Day Story

It was a perfect morning over Sea Devil Coast, the coastal cluster of tourist resorts, old waterfront towns, shanties, boardwalks, beaches, reefs, barrier islands, and assorted keys and quays crushed between the azure Atlantic and the metropolitan hub of the City. It was one of the few notable things of living in the City, this preponderance of beach days and about the only thing Wheel liked about Actionhero’s hometown. Of course, sitting on the observation deck of the Layla as it hovered in the cerulean sky (neatly masked from any detection shy of the most initiated of initiated men) drinking the legendary beer of Professor Hephaestus Gryphon (brewed from grains that should have become extinct in the Triassic, using methods created by a sect of monks that were wiped out by Lutheran Witch Hunters in the Thirty Years War) and served by the triplet Balinese sex slaves that the Professor had won off of Actionhero in a game of Texas Hold’em, he wouldn’t have minded if the weather was London Bastard Damp.

“You know, Heph,” Wheel said as he took a sip from the mug and eyed the golden skinned girl serving him breakfast. “I don’t know what like more: your ship, your beer, or your taste in…personnel.”

Across the table, the third member of the breakfasting party, the combat mage Achis, grinned in agreement. “Yeah man, this is great.” The massive warrior picked up a piece of roasted duck from the myriad dishes on the table and crunched through it, bones and all. He then looked at Heph and narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“I am hurt. Deeply hurt,” Heph said as he puffed on his Cuban cigar. “Can’t a man just invite his old college buddies over for a drink without suspicions being cast on his motives?”

Wheel looked at Achils and then both looked at Heph. In unison they said, “No.”

Heph shook his head. “All right, all right. See, I need to come up with a perfect Valentines Day present for Lady J. And I need some magical back up to get it.”

“Magical backup?” Achlis shook his head. “Christ, Heph, she’s s simple girl. Take her out for ribs. Hell, you could take her to Suki’s party.”

“Well yeah, I was going to her there anyway. But I also want to get her something special.”

Wheel arched an eyebrow. “So just what, exactly, do we have to do?”

With a grin, Heph removed his remote from his pocket and hit the time travel button.

***

The City. Circa 1962. The “Silver Age” of the City, where the slipstream future pop skyscrapers of City Center were born, fueled by New Frontier idealism, Liberal Elite nobles oblige, corporate rapacity, Post World War II internationalism, Cold War paranoia, and, if nothing else, a requirement for a playground on which massive violence dramas could be played out. There was the effete chic of Jet Set conclave merged with the commercial hubs, the corporate office towers and anonymous little government agency fronts standing concrete shoulder to concrete shoulder with hip new urban housing and the commercial escapes they in turn demanded be fulfilled. There was even room for a taste of the exotic, with the Moorish markets of the Kasbah diametrically opposed (physically at least) the Babylonian gardens on the edge of the Moderné that were slowly growing into New Genesis commune. Super spies and salary men, hipster It Girls and beatnik outlaw intelligentsia. Watching from one of the observation conservatories, Wheel could barely contain himself.

“Shazbot! Heph, if you had told me a rewind to the Sixties was involved, you wouldn’t have had to serve me beer.”

“Well you can never go wrong by starting off negotiations with the right beer.”

“Dude, could have had me at hello. I’m always up to a jaunt to New Genesis.”

“Oh no,” Achlis rumbled, crossing his arms. “Every time, EVERY FUCKING TIME you time hop back to New Genesis you always get in some shit and we have to bail you out.”

“That cuts me, Achlis.”

“Yeah well you were too stoned to remember what happened there the LAST time.”

“Hey, that was my astral projection! Tantric time travel doesn’t count!”

“And you,” Achlis continued, turning to Heph. “You still haven’t told us what’s up.”

Heph grinned, somewhere between scheming and shit-eating. “I need a pair of guys who can do the voodoo. I need to…convince a small group of individuals to come back to our time, play a private concert for me and Lady Jean, and have no memory of it once it’s done.”

“That’s a little vague, Heph. Go on.’

“Damn, you’re suspicious today. All right. We’re going to kidnap the Beatles.”

***

Three fashion spells later and the Invisibles were walking through the streets of City Center more or less inconspicuous. Heph was fine in his usual tweed and leathers, looking like a vaguely disheveled, slightly shady academic, but that appropriate, given the amount of govt. think tanks in area at this time. Wheel, after a long fight, had acquiesced to having his Hawaiian shirt masked somewhat. But the purple frock coat and pants, the heeled street boots, the crushed linen shirt and wrap around Ray Bands gave him the air of fashionable beatnik anarchist/pop star. Achlis was more conspicuous. He wore a suit that was pure Saville Row but he still looked like a Viking ready to ransack and butcher, and no amount of British tailoring could hide that.

“So we’re going to kidnap the Beatles?” Wheel muttered, drawing a Privacy Spell Sigil deftly. “And I’m the one who causes trouble in the Sixties.”

“We’re not kidnapping them,” Heph said, his voice taking on that jolly, dismissive tone it always did when he was trying to convince someone that the fairly obvious (or sane) was to be ignored. “We’re just borrowing them for a bit. Call it a personal request from em to you. Calling in those favors from those times in Cape Town and Omaha.”

“Isn’t this against the rules of you’re little club, this messing with history?” Achlis asked scowling. If Heph was calling in those favors, this had to be pretty important for him.

“What Clio doesn’t know won’t hurt her. It’s a little known fact that the Beatles played a club in the City at this time. It was a drop in show, a quick little cabaret stop on their way back to England to record on the BBC. It’s so unknown that the Herodotus Club doesn’t even it on record, though how that happened I don’t know. In fact the only reason I know is that, for some reason, Actionhero made a mention of it in his files on the City. This is the perfect time to borrow John, Paul, George, and Ringo, and then put them back faster than a subjective eye blink for anyone in this timeline. God I love having a time machine.”

“Yeah yeah but where do we come in?”

“I’m getting to it. Between the two of you, you should know enough spells to get them to play along. Put them in a hypnotic trance or make them think it’s some kind of illusion or dream. You can do that right?”

Wheel shot him a look. “I’m a psychedelic pop culture shaman. What the hell do you think?”

“Okay so why am I here?” Achlis asked.

“Jesus God, you while like an old woman,” Heph said, exasperatedly. “Can’t you just enjoy the adventure?”

“No. Because every time, EVERY FUCKING TIME you use that line I end up getting hit by something and I have to kill people.”

“Well try not to kill soon to be Gods of Rock. Stick to stun spells.”

“Do I look like I even know a stun spell?”

Wheel raised a finger and then paused. “You do have a point.”

“This better be worth it Heph,” Achlis growled.

“Trust me. It is.”

The three men walked turned into a back alley, stopping at battered door with the barely legible sign of “Rick’s Café Metropolitan.” Achlis arched an eyebrow. “I know this place. It was a merc. hangout in the City back in the ‘30s. Everybody came to Rick’s.”

Heph shot him a look. “How the hell do you know about Rick’s? And since when were you in the 1930s?”

“Never mind. But since when is it a hangout for pop rockers?”

“Times change.”

Heph’s words may have been true but the inside of the bar seemed only a degree or two away from its old merc. look. Still, there was a stage in the bar and something of a dance floor. And, there, with a barebones sound system setup, were the Beatles. The hardcore stone cold Invisibles froze at the sight of them. They had seen and done most of everything. They had fought demons, monsters, Serpent People, the Belgians. But standing in the presence of the Beatles, even Wheel was at a loss for words.

After a few minutes of stunned silence one the Beatles—Ringo of all people—looked up.

“Hello there. Are you from the newspaper?”

Heph looked at the two Invisibles next to him and opened his mouth to comment when the far wall of the club shattered in a muffled explosion. The Beatles all fell to the ground but Achlis’ spell locks kicked in and the shield charm was up before anything could hit the Invisibles. They turned to see a group of men in dark suits walking thought eh broken wall. The men froze when they saw the trio. Wheel spat on the ground and sneered. You didn’t need to be that good at Astral Perception to see through these bastards’ glamour.

“Mother Fucker. Reptilians.”

Heph gritted his teeth. “Go hand to hand. Don’t want stray shots to hurt the Fab Four.”

“Pshaw,” Wheel shrugged. “Like I ever miss.” Still, he opened the purple mod frock coat and TK flipped his Lightsaber into his hand.

The lead Reptile hissed, the sound obscene coming from his perfect All American Boy looks. The Reptile Suits all scattered, taking up fight positions and reaching for the insides of their coats but the three Invisibles were already ahead of them.

The gold energy blade of Wheel’s golden Lightsaber spun like a electric acid trip hallucination as he broke into that nasty Mace Windu Form VII sword fighting style that was all rapid-fire slashes, mixed in with a bit of chop-socky and ‘80s grooving. Lizard meat began to rain on the floor win wet slaps of half cauterized body parts.

Across the room, Heph had drawn his sword cane—the nasty one made from titanium alloy hammered to one molecule of thickness and fitted to a good piece of English oak with Bond Street artificer marks—and was cutting off heads with more than a moderate amount of aplomb.

“Duncan Macleod eat your heart out,” he grinned.

Achlis seemed to be standing stock still behind his shield, eyes closed, and doing nothing, but Heph knew better. When he saw the lead Reptile dodge Wheel’s saber stroke and make a run for the stage where the Beatles were watching the battle in paralyzed shock, he played his ace.

“Achlis! NOW!!”

Achlis’ eyes snapped open and flashed fire. He shouted a Power Word and in an instant, all the Reptilians froze and turned to ash, falling on the ground like dirty snow. Brushing off disintegrated Reptile man from their clothes, Wheel and Heph walked back to Achlis.
“You couldn’t have done that sooner?”

“Target Specific Slay Spells take a while, Shaman boy. You just can’t “feel the groove’ like you hippies do. Or would you have liked for me to just kill everyone in the room?”

Wheel shrugged and looked at the Beatles. “Now?”

Heph nodded. “As good a time as any.”

Wheel walked up to the four grinning wildly.

“What the hell…” George began.

“Relax boys,” Wheel said, as his frock coat began to shift back to his traditional Hawaiian shirt, the designs and colors beginning to scintillate hypnotically. He held out his hand which had four rainbow colored cubes in it. “You’re about to get high with a little help from your friends.”

“You know they haven’t written that song yet.”

“Hey how about a little less rock trivia and a little more shut the hell up?”

***

The Layla hovered over the midnight waters off of Sea Devil’s Coast. Lady Jean stepped off the transported pad and walked through the hallways of the ship headed towards the main salon. Heph was always dramatic but tonight he seemed to be for reaching new levels. She walked into the salon and froze. A candle light dinner set for two, Champaign on ice, and on stage….

I give her all my love,
That’s all I do.
And if you saw my love,
You’d Love her too.

And I love her….

Heph walked up to her holding a pair of Champaign flute giving one to her and clinking his own against it.

“Here’s looking at you, kid.”

“That’s…that’s….”

“Yes. Called in some favors and did some mojo so they’ll be our entertainment this evening. I even downloaded some songs they haven’t written yet, don’t know or never will into their heads, all your favorites of course.”

Lady Jean gave Heph an almost heartbreaking look, her eyes moist with tears.

“You did this for me?”

“Yes.”

“You shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean? It’s Valentines Day. I had to get you a present.”

”No Heph you shouldn’t have. It just makes this all the more difficult.”

Lady Jean reached into her jacked and in a smooth move pulled a gun and shot Heph point blank.

The Countdown to Visibility has begun

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