“What is Neo Utopia?” Gar asked
Chase checked their ETA on the nav console in the shuttle and then answered. “Neo Utopia is a city built back in the twenties to bring cultures across the world together. It worked, there are a lot of different people all working nicely together there. It grew a lot over the past century. However, with growth comes crime. Loads of nasty people and even some gangs and mafias have set up shop in that city. It’s the most technologically advanced city on Earth, but it is also a...wait, something doesn’t look right.” She leaned over.
The pilot said, “we’re coming in for a landing. Something must be wrong with my sensors. The sky doesn’t look right.”
“Just get us down.”
The sky was gray, tarmac was gray, every building, car, and tree was gray. The world… was gray. Chase and Gar walked across the open airfield, a breeze rushing around them. When Chase turned to see the source of this breeze, she saw an old Ford Trimotor plane with BADGE emblazoned on the side.
“That’s weird? What happened to the shuttle?” Chase asked.
Gar gasped, “what happened to you!”
She looked down and realized that her arms were just as colorless as the rest of this strange environment. “I’m… gray?”
“AH! ME TOO!” Gar yelled.
Chase said, “you were always gray.”
“Oh, right.”
“Come on, let’s go check out this bank and get the hell out of this before it gets any worse.” She pushed onward, with Gar close behind her.
Walking down the streets of Neo Utopia led them backward in time. Old cars rumbled down the road, boys hawked news papers from the street corners, some women dressed like flappers while others were in smart pantsuits clutching small purses.
“What happened here?” Gar asked.
Chase watched a police officer walk by, giving her a stern, disapproving look. “I don’t know. Oh, there’s the bank.”
First National Bank of Neo Utopia had police all around it with newspaper photographers snapping pictures with over-sized cameras and massive flashbulbs.
“Looks like the scene of the crime.” Gar said.
Chase walked him over and moved aside police tape to get nearer the Bank. A man in a suit rushed over to her, shoving her back.
“Woah, woah, woah, there. No citizens allowed, darlin.”
Chase flashed her BADGE credentials. “I’m here to gather details for Director Nova.”
The man snorted and chuckled. “A dame a police officer, that’s rich. Go, play with yer strange winged friend outside this police line before I have to take you in for indecent exposure.”
“Indecent exposure!?”
Several men on either side of the police tape whistled suggestively at Chase. Gar threatened them with a severe look.
“Move it, sweetheart, yous mak’n a scene. Now….YEOOOOOW!” He was poking her with a finger and now that finger was just about bent off his hand by her grip.`
“Back off before I break it off.” She shoved him away. “Come on, Gar, let’s see what we can find. These bozos won’t be of any help.”
Halfway up the steps, Gar stumbled and fell to his knees. “Chase… I don’t feel so well.”
“You don’t feel well? How is that possible?”
He jerked and his arms came closer to himself. “I. . . am. . . going stiff. . . I can’t…”
“GAR!” She watched him shrinking slightly.
There was a strange wave of energy that boomed out and stumbled her back for a moment. The world went hazy. There came the loud report of guns blazing from around a far corner. Dozens of suited men carrying Tommy Guns descended upon them, showing the cops with bullets. The cops dove behind cars and returned fire. Oddly, it seemed no one hit anyone else. They just kept each other at bay.
The suited officer that Chase had injured yelled out, “What are your boss’s demands?”
The tall gangster laughed. “I’ll get back to you with a list. HA!”
“Hey, Steelfist! Lookit this!” A goon ran over and examined the now solid statue that was Gar, which had become only three feet in height.
Steelfist laughed, “wouldja look at that! The Maltese Gargoyle! Rutkowsky’s gonna be happy ta see this. Get it, boys!”
Chase blacked out just after watching them dragging Gar away.
This room, it smelled of sweat, anger, and cigarettes,… mostly cheap cigarettes to be honest. Men swore, laughed, and threatened each other around over turned boxes and ratty old tables. Playing cards were thrown around, littering the ground, the remnants of each brawl over poker. Everyone cheated, and no one liked to be cheated, which was a dangerous mixture among thugs and henchmen.
Suddenly, the dimly lit haze was set afire by the light coming from the freshly opened doors. Shadowy figures came in by the dozen. A scraping, grinding sound followed them as they dragged Gar’s frozen form inside this abandoned warehouse.
“HEY, BOSS! WE GOT SOMETH’N FOR YA!” Steelfist yelled out.
The gathered thugs and miscreants rushed to see the loot. This, again, instigated fights between members wanting to get more of their unfair share.
“BOYS! ENOUGH!” A voice yelled out.
What power, what presence! This voice put every greasy gangster down. They shut up and backed away as their leader strode through the smoke.
A short man wearing most of a suit with the arms torn to reveal his muscular arms appeared. With an unlit cigarette dangling out the side of his mouth and a two-bit floozy hanging off his left shoulder, he cut a commanding figure. Everyone held their breath as he approached. No one moved. He snatched a match out of his pocket and struck it across the bottom of his shoe. Lighting that cigarette, he finally approached the statue.
“So, what do we have here?”
Steelfist timidly answered, “the Maltese Gargoyle, it’s worth a fortune. And, it’s all yers boss.”
“commere.” Rutkowsky wiggled a finger at Steelfist.
The brute leaned over. “What?”
With a sudden slap, Rutkowsky sent the behemoth reeling. “You worthless piece of gutter trash! It’s the Maltese Falcon, not Gargoyle. I wanted a mcguffin. This ain’t no mcguffin you moron! Now I’m gonna have BADGE flatfoots after me!”
“BADGE? Who the hell is that, boss?” Steelfist asked.
Rutkowsky waved a hand. “Nevermind. Jus get this here statue in the back, outta the light. I gotta figure this out.”
“Whatcha think’n bout Mr. R?” the floozy asked.
Rutkowsky smiled, “nuthin ta worry ya pretty little head. STEELFIST!”
In a matter of seconds, the brute and his closest thugs rushed to their bosses beckoning. “What?”
Rutkowsky slowly walked back through the fog in the room. “Take the guys and go mess up the city real good. North side and South side, don’t let nobody through from the outside. This city is ours and till I get my hands on the real mcguffin, I don’t want any problems.”
“Right away, boss.” Steelfist slammed his steel fist through a card table, scatting shards and cards all over the warehouse. This grabbed the attention of every gangster in the room. “Yous guys heard the boss. Get yer tails in gear! MOVE!”
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