Rhymes of the Renegades: MASK Reboot 1

Author's Notes: So many people to thank on the long strange run it has been to the new story. First and foremost, Lisa L. for pulling me back to the MASK ranks. Also, several other MASK agents for their inspirations: Kero Wack (Brian), MAD MASK (Wes), and (Bill).

This story is loosely built around a chapter of Bill O'Reilly's Legends and Lies: The Real West and the title comes from the Michael Martin Murphey song of the same name. They own all their stuff. I only own Annie and Lisa owns Roxanne. Please enjoy!

The Oil Tanker slowly rumbled down a remote road in the San Francisco Suburbs, pausing briefly to check its destination before backing into the driveway of the small luxury estate hidden off the main California highways. Two masked figures exited the truck at the main gate, one slipping through the darkness of full night to quietly disable the security system. The other one moved nowhere near stealthily toward the main gate, intent on nothing but its utter obliteration.

"Magna Beam, FIRE!"

Bruno Sheppard held his MASK steadily on the gate until it began to bend and open wide enough to let Outlaw through. Mayhem had insisted they do a good, thorough job this time, so Bruno applied that principle to the gate, shutting down Magna Beam only when the front gate exploded outward into a shower of metal shards.

"Well done, Mr. Bruno, sir," Nash Gorey suddenly sniveled from beside him. "I've disabled the security system and you've disabled the gate just like Mr. Mayhem wanted. Let's get inside."

Nash backed Outlaw up to the front door and, not willing to be outdone by Bruno, activated his own mask. "Powerhouse, ON!"

Using Powerhouse's strength, he pulled the front door off of its hinges and chucked it like a shot put into the next field over, giggling maniacally the entire time.

"You ain't nothin' without that mask," Bruno said, pushing past Nash to the house's interior. "Now which way?"

Nash had already memorized the floor plan and location of the item they sought. Bruno followed him into a large first floor room full of Old West Memorabilia. And books. Lots of books. Bruno hated books. "How the hell are we supposed to find one book in all this?"

"Mr. Mayhem was very clear on the markings. Now please be quiet and help look before we get caught."

"Pfft," Bruno snorted. "Mayhem said this guy is like a gazillion years old. If he ain't heard us by now, he won't! Besides, I came here for action, not some stupid book!

Bruno's gaze drifted across the room to two pearl handled revolvers mounted on a wall shelf. He walked over and pulled them down, waiving them around menacingly before pointing them straight at Nash.

"Hands in the air, this is a stick up!"

"Hahahah, Mr. Bruno," Nash chuckled dryly without looking, engrossed in his search for the journal Mayhem sought.

**BANG**

**KABOOM**

The entire bookshelf facing Nash collapsed as the stray bullet sheared through the tipsy bottom supports. Bruno looked stupidly at the smoking gun in his hand, "Whoops."

"What in tarnation is that god awful racket?"

The house's owner, an old wizened fellow bent over a walker, shuffled into the study wheezing heavily. He screamed and promptly collapsed upon seeing two masked men robbing his house at gunpoint. He was still clutching his heart when Nash went over to check him out.

"He's dead Mr. Bruno. We better take all these books and get out of here!"

"Hell, if the old guy's dead, I'm taking all of it!"

"What fresh hell is this?" Miles Mayhem wondered aloud early the next morning.

"It's all the stuff from that old guy's house," Bruno replied, "Look at this loot!"

Mayhem wiped his face with a cloth in exasperation, "I asked you for one book, not the entire collection!"

"You should have sent someone who could read then," Vanessa Warfield quipped from beside him.

"There were…complications…Mr. Mayhem sir," Nash offered.

Floyd Malloy wandered through the boxes piled in Outlaw's trailer, critiquing each one as he passed, "Crap. Crap. Crap. Useless…" Finally, he looked over at Mayhem, "Boss, if there's anything good here, I can't see it, let alone tell ya it's real."

"You two," Mayhem pointed angrily at Bruno and Nash, "are going to have complications if you don't find me that book! Black Bart's Journal is in this mess somewhere and points the way to millions of dollars he left behind in his California robberies! I want that money!"

"I ain't sortin' no damn books!" Bruno sassed. "I hate books!"

Cliff Dagger and Sly Rax stood close enough to the conversation to hear what was going on but far enough away to be out of the line of fire.

"Somebody has to be interested enough in this stuff to go through it," Dagger mused.

Rax smacked him upside the head. "Shut up lamebrain!"

"The lamebrain actually has a point."

Rax and Dagger stared open mouthed at Mayhem.

"He does?!"

"I do?!"

Mayhem fingered the edge of his graying mustache thoughtfully, "The city's museum is opening up an American History exhibit and looking for donations. Suppose we pawn this stuff onto them, then put word on the street about Black Bart's journal. All the treasure hunters for miles will be lining up to find it."

"And do our dirty work for us," Vanessa finished. "They'll find the book and we steal it back."

"Precisely. Take Rax and Malloy and set it up."

Later that day, the phone rang in the sound booth at Turner Music's main studio.

"Yeah?"

"Hi Dad."

"I'm working and you should be in classes," Brad Turner snapped. "What's the problem?"

"Would you please…" the voice on the other end cracked, "…come talk to the guidance counselor? She keeps asking about…" Brad could hear the tears now. "about my moth—"

"I will be right there." Brad growled before disconnecting the line and dialing Boulderhill Garage. "Buddy, I'm on my way to the high school. They've put my daughter in tears and I might need bail money."

Seventeen-year-old Annie Turner had learned many things in her young life, the biggest being that this would not be a free ride. The number of albums her father sold, the number of awards he won, the sphere of influence he cultivated…none of that would have any bearing on her weight in the world. Anything she wanted out of life would have be earned just like anyone else. The rules applied to everyone and she would receive no special treatment. Usually…

Brad Turner blazed into the guidance counselor's office as though he were hitting the concert stage. The high school's principal was hot on his heels, eager to deter a confrontation.

"Mr. Turner, I think there's been a misunderstanding…"

"Nope. Got Annie's message loud and clear. You people have been harassing my easy-going straight A student into a nervous breakdown. Where are her transcripts?" Brad demanded.

"Right here." The guidance counselor handed him several sheets of paper. "Of course, her grades are outstanding. It's her career path that is a concern, especially in a single parent—"

"How about you let me worry about the parenting?" Brad replied coldly.

"Mr. Turner," the principal interceded, "I think you are missing the point."

"The point is: do you want to get out of here?" The last question was directed at Annie, sitting silently in a chair in the office's back corner, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Brad flipped quickly through the papers in his hand. "You've got 30 credits out of 22.5 to graduate, including the homeschool transfers."

She nodded, sniffling, "You asked me to try to stick out the year but it's…not working."

"Good enough for me." Brad tossed Annie's transcripts back on the guidance counselor's desk. "How about a diploma and we'll call it even."

"Well now, let's not make any hasty decisions," the principal tried futilely.

Annie noticed the change in her father's demeanor almost immediately. Annoyed Brad Dad turned into Famous Brad Turner within the next heartbeat, swinging the Brad Hammer down hard.

"Hasty would have been calling Matt Trakker on the way here to let him know your administration discriminates against single parent households. His foundation helps a lot of those families who aren't as lucky as Annie and me. A lot of them are in this school district. Be a shame if something happened to all that funding."

The tirade only lasted a couple minutes— because it didn't take concepts such as mental distress, harassment, loss of funding, poor media coverage, and the like to hit home with the school's administration. Within moments, Brad was signing Annie's early graduation papers amid a chorus of promises from the district. Oh yes, sir, we'll mail her diploma…oh yes, sir, we wish you and Annie the best, thank you for your business sir…please don't sue us sir. Brad smiled slyly and shook hands with the principal and guidance counselor before leading Annie out of the high school for the last time.

Everything hit her a few moments later. "Thank you."

Brad looked over from Razorback's driver's seat. "I wish you would have told me you were struggling sooner."

"I thought I could handle it."

"Well, now you're a free agent, pumpkin. You can figure life out on your terms. Something you," Brad poked Annie's shoulder for emphasis, "are very good at."

"Yeah, sure."

She was still reeling from her new found freedom as Razorback pulled into Boulderhill Garage. Annie and Brad stepped out to greet MASK mechanic Buddy Hawkes, hard at work on Thunderhawk.

"Hey Red!" Buddy hugged Annie warmly and affectionately, scratching the top of her appropriately colored hair before looking over at Brad, "Did you already hide the bodies?"

Brad laughed. "I settled for an early diploma. No one makes my daughter feel second rate."

Buddy chuckled understanding and turned back to Annie, "Hey, if you need something to do, I've got a mile-high stack of paperwork waiting to be sorted. Roxy and I are up to our eyeballs in car repairs or I'd do it."

Roxanne Trakker picked that moment to turn the corner with another load of tools. She smiled warmly at seeing Brad but stiffened a little seeing Annie beside him.

"Hey Brad! Hi Annie."

"I'll go have a look at that paperwork for you, Buddy."

Annie walked back to Buddy's office without another word. Roxanne looked anxiously over at Brad, "I don't get her. It's like she's mad at me…"

"Nah," Buddy reassured Roxy quickly, "I've seen that look before. She's distracted. Girl's so smart she's dumb sometimes. I wouldn't worry about it."

Buddy and Roxy went back to their repairs as Brad stepped into the office. "Hey, I know you're upset but that doesn't mean you forget your manners."

Annie looked up at him through puzzled green eyes. "Huh? Oh yeah, I didn't mean that. I'll say something later. It's just…awkward being here with the two of them. They have this…thing…"

She shook her head and dumped a stack of papers in a filing cabinet. "I don't even know what I'm saying. Maybe the school is right and –"

"I meant what I said," Brad pulled Annie close for a hug, "No one gets to make you feel second rate. This was an unexpected change for both of us. You give Buddy a hand here, I'll clean up some things at the studio, and we'll figure something else out later. Deal?"

"Deal!" Annie hugged him tightly goodbye. "Love you Dad."

"Hey Matt. Have a minute?"

Matt Trakker looked up from the computer screen in his study and indicated the chair across from his desk. "Of course, Brad, have a seat. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, it's for Annie. I just signed her early graduation papers and we're both at a loss now."

"Another rash decision?" Matt needled him lightly.

"True," Brad chuckled, "But if someone is going to harass my daughter about her path in life, it'll be me!"

"Indeed," Matt chuckled back. "Has Annie considered college?"

"We've discussed it. She's definitely smart enough. But she's homeschooled in open air so long, the lectures might stifle her."

"Hmm. How about the High Mountain Rangers?"

"Possible," Brad admitted, "but she wants in on her own merit, not because she's practically adopted into the Hawkes family. Apparently, they're still having problems with the last guy who thinks he was washed out unfairly."

Matt folded his hands under his chin and mused momentarily before asking, "What about MASK?"

"You know how I feel about that!" Brad snapped immediately. "If the wrong people found out…"

Matt's hands formed a stopping motion, "I'm well aware of what's at stake, Brad. You'll recall I've spent the last three years keeping my own daughter away from VENOM, and by extension, MASK. But recent events showed me the best way to keep VENOM out is to let Roxanne in. Given your news, this might be a good time to do the same with Annie."

"Okay, whoa…that's not why I'm here."

"Nevertheless, you've opened a door, Brad," Matt persisted. "You'll need to consider stepping back and giving Annie some freedom to explore all her options, possibly including MASK. It might also be time to consider telling her the truth."

Brad sat up a little straighter in his chair, clearly on the defensive. "Hey, don't tell me how to raise my kid! I only came here to see if you might have a project for Annie to work on. She won't be happy sorting papers for Buddy in the garage for long."

"Actually, I may," Matt responded in a brighter, conciliatory tone. "Something came up at the city's museum. As soon as I get a hold of Dusty, I'll bring you both in."

"Sounds good. Thanks."