The Origin of MASK
Chapter 8: Not a Game Any More, Part 4
The final chapter

By Qweb and/or Jelsemium

Brad heard the explosion but was, fortunately, far enough away to avoid most of the effects. He'd take the blessings he could get. He wasn't sure he could reach the ground safely anyway. Condor's overstrained engine was smoking and missing beats. He nursed it along.

When the hydroplane flashed past, he could only spare a single backwards glance. It showed Dusty motionless on the roof and Gloria trying to hold up the building all by herself. Brad redoubled his efforts to reach safe ground.

When the hydroplane hit the water, it sent a tidal wave over Malloy and Rax, washing away the dust that the explosion had blown on them. Rax sputtered angrily as the boat beached itself safely on the far side of the lake, but Malloy told him to shut up.

"You'll need a dozen baths to get rid of that stink," he said.

"I could get it out of your nose right now," Rax suggested, pretending to walk away and leave Malloy tied up in stickem.

"Aw, Rax," Malloy wheedled. "You wouldn't do that to an old pal, would ya?"

Rax snorted. "I'm tired of this foolin' around," he growled. "Stiletto, Fire!"

The mask was pointed in Malloy's direction. He yelped and closed his eyes. "Don't, Rax. I didn't mean it," he howled. "I was only joking!"

Razor sharp darts thudded home all around Malloy, as if he was the target partner in a knife-throwing act.

"Stop your whinin' and let's get outta here," Rax said.

Malloy cautiously tried his limbs and found he could move them. The stilettos had cut enough of the strings of stickem to allow the Venom agent to pull free. Subdued by his close call, he climbed into Piranha's sidecar. He was just glad he didn't have to ride behind his smelly cohort. The battered black bike chugged away, leaving Vampire behind, still coated with goop.

When Vanessa saw Piranha fleeing the fight as fast as it could, which admittedly wasn't very fast, she realized she was the only Venom agent left.

Outlaw, Jackhammer and Vampire were totaled. Stinger was long gone. Switchblade was shrunk to the size of a toy. Only Manta was left to carry on the battle alone.

Fat chance! she thought.

"Forget it, Mayhem," she said to her cursing commander. "We've lost this round." Manta raced away from the battlefield.

"But there'll be other rounds, MASK," Mayhem promised venomously.

The miniature jet sped away pursued by Thunderhawk. Matt discovered that Calhoun's ploy had backfired. The tiny target was too small to track. It vanished into the sky.

Matt had given up and was returning to the battlefield, where Bruce was setting Firecracker on its wheels, when they heard a desperate scream over their radios.

"Somebody help me!"

"It's Gloria!" exclaimed Julio from his precarious position in the tilted truck.

Alex jumped into the detachable ATV that masqueraded as Rhino's trailer hitch. He sped toward the house.

Bruce finished righting the pickup. Julio looked across at Hondo in concern. Under the visor called Blaster, the black man's mouth was twisted in pained lines.

"Hondo, can you get free?" Julio asked.

"I … think so," Hondo replied. "Blaster, low power, on."

He carefully aimed the disintegrator blast to melt the edge of the seat, freeing his left arm from the vise it was in. He sighed with relief as he pulled away from the dented door.

"I don't think it's broken," he said in relief.

"I'll be the judge of that," retorted the doctor, as he retrieved his medical bag.

"Gloria! What the devil do you think you're doing?" Alex cried.

Gloria could feel Aura's batteries draining her own strength. She remembered Matt's warning. Never try to use a mask after the batteries became exhausted. It could have potentially fatal results. But Gloria knew releasing Aura would have definitely fatal results for Dusty. She clenched her jaw, blinked away the sweat in her eyes, and locked the trembling muscles in her knees.

"Dusty's up there," she said through gritted teeth. "He's hurt."

Alex's gaze flashed up. He couldn't see Dusty, but he could see the top of Gator's hood pointing to the sky.

"Hang on, Gloria. I'll get him," he said.

"Hurry," she pleaded.

"Jackrabbit, ON!"

Alex leaped for the roof, buoyed up by the anti-gravity effect of his mask. He stepped from the air to the unsteady roof, feeling it quiver despite Gloria's support.

The sight of Dusty, sprawled motionless wrenched at Alex. He owed the cowboy so much, an apology at the very least. Alex didn't have time to check Dusty's vital signs. He drew the young man's still body across his shoulders in the fireman's carry. The computer expert spared one glance for Gator as he stepped into mid-air again.

"Sorry, old girl," he murmured. "But you're a bit more than I can handle."

Gloria watched them soar away from the roof with exhausted relief. She tried to stagger away from the building, to let Aura shut down, but she couldn't make her wobbly legs move. She could only stand there as Aura got weaker and the wall began to lean in her direction. She sank to her knees.

And then Gloria proved Matt wrong. Aura burnt out before she did. With a pop and a smell of acrid fumes, Aura's forcefield blinked out. And the wall began to fall.

"No!"

From high above, burdened by Dusty's motionless body. Alex watched in horror as the wall fell toward the helpless girl.

"NO!"

From clear across the lake where he had finally deposited his young passengers with their shaken parents, Brad saw it also. His helicopter's motor was on fire, but Condor was also a superspeed motorcycle. Faster than the eye could follow, the cycle flashed across the lake, supported by the water's surface tension.

The building swayed outward, curling down like a gigantic wave. Brad shot the tube. The wall started to break up, rubble rained down, but Brad slowed, daring death in order to catch Gloria around the waist. He scooped her up like a TV cowboy rescuing a damsel in distress, then sent Condor hurtling away from the plunging bricks.

The debris washed over Rhino's ATV, battering it into spare parts. Gator dropped three stories straight down and was buried. Only the tip of her hood still stood bravely above the debris. The rubble settled in a moment of silence, then the abandoned depth charge blew a fountain of bricks skyward, Gator's last defiance of the house that had overwhelmed her.

Julio was wrapping up Hondo's bruised but unbroken arm when the crash of the crumbling building grabbed everyone's attention. From across the wide clearing, Julio, Hondo and Bruce watched the show with awe as the brick house toppled over and collapsed. They cheered when Condor flashed out of the cloud of dust carrying Brad and Gloria to safety. But their mood sobered when they saw Brad set Gloria on shaky feet at the edge of the rubble and Alex touch down carrying Dusty over his shoulder.

Brad helped Alex lay Dusty down carefully and gently remove Backlash. Alex pillowed Dusty's head in his lap. Gloria sank to a seat beside him and Brad kneeled next to her, one arm around her shoulders to support her swaying body. Dusty didn't even twitch when Thunderhawk rolled to a landing beside him.

"Oh, no," Hondo said softly. "Forget about me, Julio. I'm all right. See if there's anything you can do for Dusty."

"Let's get over there," Julio said as he started to trot across the field.

"I know a faster way," Bruce said. "Allow me."

Lifter snatched up the doctor and his bag and slung them across the field, setting Julio on his feet as breathless as if he'd run the entire distance.

"I'm glad he's on my side," Julio muttered as he kneeled beside Dusty.

The stuntman stirred, sighed, opened his eyes and was startled to see his friends looking down at him with grave concern on their unmasked faces. Dusty struggled to sit up.

Brad reached out his free hand and touched Dusty's shoulder. "Easy, cowboy," he said. "Lie still. It's all over now."

Dusty subsided, submitting to Julio's ministrations. Dusty managed a grin, though it made the bruised side of his face ache.

"Guess I fell on my fool head again," he said to Gloria.

Gloria managed a weak smile in return. "No," she answered. "It was your precious Gator that knocked you silly."

"Aw," Dusty protested. "She didn't mean it."

"Well, she's paid for her bad temper," Alex said.

Dusty looked across at the debris and the tip of Gator's hood. "Poor baby," he murmured.

Julio sighed with relief when he finished his examination.

"No sign of concussion," he said. "You are one lucky hombre."

"It's not luck," Bruce said as he and Hondo arrived. "It's the extra padding I put in Backlash after the last time Dusty fell on his head."

In the throes of relief, the MASK agents broke up as if that was the funniest joke they'd ever heard. Then they all began to talk, trying to piece together exactly what had happened during the battle.

Matt tucked Spectrum under his arm and looked around at his crew. Calhoun sat on the Thunderhawk's scorched and scored bumper, sweating and tight-lipped, his white face a match for Gloria's. The girl sagged against Brad's ready shoulder, half asleep out of pure exhaustion. Beside her, Aura sent wisps of fumes spiraling into the air to mingle with the smoke streaming from Condor's trailing rotor. Hondo held his half-wrapped arm tight against his body while he watched Julio treat the wincing Dusty. Behind them all, like a stage backdrop, was the collapsed house with Gator's battered hood protruding from the wreckage. There was no sign of the smaller half of Rhino, which was buried deep under the debris.

Matt sighed at all the destruction.

"Looks like this is going to be a more expensive hobby than I thought," he told Bruce.

Matt called the transport back from Kentucky. The big jet appeared overhead. Its engines swiveled. Slowly it began to set down in the clearing, guided by the signal from Thunderhawk's computer.

Julio fetched a stretcher and Alex and Bruce carried Dusty inside. Brad followed with Gloria fast asleep in his arms.

Dusty protested being carried, pointing out that Julio had said he was all right.

"You won't be, if you don't lie still," the doctor said, shaking his fist in a threatening manner. "I'll make sure of that." Then just a trifle more seriously, Julio added, "Please, Dusty, just rest until I can check you out with every gadget I own. If you collapse now, you'll destroy my professional reputation."

Dusty lay back, but he wasn't ready to relax yet. He turned to Bruce.

"We can't leave Gator under all that junk," he pleaded. "It just ain't right."

Bruce patted his shoulder and put Lifter back on.

"Don't worry. We'll rescue her for you."

He left Alex and Julio to watch Dusty and Gloria while he went out to confer with Hondo and Calhoun. Julio busied himself with his medical equipment, leaving the others alone in awkward silence.

Dusty offered Alex a tentative smile.

"Guess you were right about me bein' too dumb for MASK," the cowboy said wistfully. "Almost got myself killed first time out the chute."

Alex tried to clear the choked up feeling from his throat.

"No, Dusty, I was wrong. No one else could have gotten those people off the roof in time. You were magnificent."

Dusty chuckled. "I dunno about the magnificent part. What I meant to do originally was jump to the roof then build an ice slide to get all of us and all of Gator down."

Alex knew why he hadn't followed through on that plan. Gator's water/ice gun was really meant to be used from the hydroplane when it could pump directly from whatever body of water it sat on. The water reservoir inside the boat was very small, just large enough for a single ice ramp.

"But you used up all your water to save me," Alex said softly. "Even after the uncalled for remark I made."

Dusty looked surprised.

"'Course I did," he said. "Couldn't do nothin' else. You're my friend." Dusty grinned, "'Sides, even if you weren't, I wouldn't let my worst enemy be spitted by a sidewinder like Rax."

He changed the subject back. "I still think you were right the first time, though. If I'd been smarter, maybe I could have figgered out some way to get those folks down without almost gettin' killed myself."

"But you got them down and you weren't killed," Alex pointed out.

"'Cause of you 'n' Gloria."

"That's why we're a team, old sport. After all, you saved my life first. And Brad had to save Gloria after. No, Dusty, it took a stuntman to think of jumping a car to the roof. I doubt if it would have crossed anyone else's mind in time to do any good. I was the one who was wrong, Dusty."

Alex looked at Gloria who burned out her mask but still lived. He thought about himself and the fact that he had been able to react quickly enough under fire to save Dusty, Bruce and himself. He sighed with relief.

"I was wrong about a lot of things, thank God," he said.

Hondo used Blaster with finesse to disintegrate the largest pieces of debris in and around Gator, then Bruce lifted it out. Though the jeep was battered and twisted, Bruce believed it could be repaired. After all, the jeep body was only a shell. The engines, the power for the weapons, even the upholstery, were all floating safely on the lake.

He began to clear the rubble out of the shell when a glint of light caught his eye.

Calhoun put his mask on as Wilberforce approached, tailed by his ragged band of tourists. Calhoun didn't want the man to recognize him. He especially didn't want his grandmother to hear what her "crazy" grandson was doing when he should have been courting the cream of Southern society.

"Sorry about your house," Matt told Wilberforce, his voice muffled by Spectrum. "We'll pay for the damage."

Wilberforce waved Matt's apology away.

"Don't be silly. You saved us from those madmen. Besides," the man's eyes gleamed, "now I can build a new house, with central heating, and air conditioning, and a dishwasher!" He sighed with pleasure. "Goodbye historical monument. Now I can build a home!"

"Perhaps this will help," Bruce said.

Wilberforce turned toward the new speaker, and gasped.

Displayed between Bruce's outstretched hands was a shimmering waterfall of diamonds, rubies and emeralds — the Madonna's jeweled shawl. Awed silence paid tribute to its flamboyant yet delicate beauty as it glowed in the sunset light.

"This is what Venom was after," Bruce told Wilberforce softly. "It was hidden in the house. It belonged to a relative of the Russian royal family, but I don't believe any of his descendants still survive. It was in your house. I suppose it belongs to you."

Wilberforce took the shawl gingerly. He shook his head. "If I'd had my choice, I would have demolished the house long ago. This might have been lost forever. I think I will donate it to the historical society," he said wryly.

"That would be fitting," Calhoun agreed.

Matt turned to Bruce. "How did you find it?"

Bruce laughed oddly.

"I didn't. Gator did. It was inside her hood in a steel strongbox. Somehow she caught it when the building collapsed."

Matt shook his head. "I guess that jeep's as smart as Dusty says she is."

Then he raised his voice. "Come on, team. It's time to go home."

The tired MASK crew straggled into headquarters and stopped dead in the doorway. Buddy, Scott and T-Bob looked up guiltily. Ace and Jacques looked up with relief. None of them had heard the transport land. They had all been too busy trying to clean up the sticky mess that covered walls, furniture and floor in the meeting room.

Staring, with his mouth open wide enough to catch flies, Matt realized the lock on the soft drink machine had been broken open in some way that had damaged the machinery. He deduced that an electrical fault in the soda machine had sent cans flying around the room like missiles. The aluminum cans had crashed into the walls, dented the delicate computer equipment and sprayed soda all over everything.

Matt closed his mouth, then opened it again.

"Don't ask!" Ace and Jacques chorused wearily. Ace favored a bruised shoulder. Jacques brushed ineffectually at his wavy brown hair, which was plastered flat with bright red cherry soda. Neither one was in the mood to explain.

Matt shut his mouth again, but the look he shot at the guilty faces of Buddy and Scott was question enough. T-Bob edged back towards the wall, trying to look like an innocent trash can.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Scott said in a small voice. "It was my fault."

Buddy winced at such honesty. His first impulse had been to deny everything.

"No," he said bravely. If a kid could do it, so could he. "It was my fault, Matt."

Matt pierced his son with a stern look. "I'll get to you later," he said. "As for you, Buddy, you're going to have to help Alex fix his precious computers. I expect that will be punishment enough."

"I'll make sure of that," Alex said grimly, looking around at the desecration.

"And don't forget our battle damage, Matt," Hondo put in.

"Sure, Matt," Brad put in. "Buddy felt so bad about being left out of the mission. Aren't you glad we could bring a little bit of it back for him?"

Buddy looked at his battered comrades and moaned silently. If the vehicles were in half as bad shape as his friends, he was going to have a lot of work to do. He started for the door to check the damage out, then froze as Julio wheeled Dusty into the room. The doctor was in a good mood. All the tests he had performed in the transport had proved negative. Since he'd made sure the jet was fully equipped, he was confident Dusty would be up and around after just a couple days' rest.

Seeing Dusty in a wheelchair, the whole right side of his face bruised, Buddy forgot all about his own disfavor and sprang to his friend's side.

"Dusty! Are you all right?"

"He's fine, Buddy," Julio reassured him. "Don't worry."

"Then what's the wheelchair for," Buddy demanded.

"Oh that," the doctor said innocently, nudging the chair forward for emphasis. "I just like pushing people around."

Ace moaned. "I don't have to listen to this. I'm a veteran," he said.

Everyone started to split up, but Alex stopped them by clearing his throat.

"Because I started this with a public insult, I feel I must end it with a public apology," Alex said, looking at Dusty. "Dusty, old chap, I am terribly sorry for what I said in here earlier. I had no business implying you are stupid. It most certainly isn't true. Your thought processes may work differently than mine, but that's exactly what we need in MASK. I hope you'll forgive me. The fact is, I wasn't angry with you at all. I was angry with myself. I was worried and frightened, and more than a little jealous," Alex said with a wry grin.

"Jealous … of me?" Dusty exclaimed, his voice rising in astonishment.

Alex chuckled.

"Yes. Jealous of your strength, of your resilience, in a word, of your youth, Dusty. I was afraid that I was too old to go into battle. I was afraid I would disgrace myself, that I would be too old and too slow to keep up with you youngsters."

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Dusty threw back his head and laughed until tears flowed from his eyes. Alex just stared.

"Alex, you ain't never gonna be slow as long as you have your mask," Dusty said. "As long as you have Jackrabbit, you'll be quick as a bunny."

Alex shook his head slowly as if he couldn't believe his ears. Then, as the others held their breaths, a broad grin cracked the scientist's bearded face. Alex fought it down and slapped Dusty on the shoulder.

"Dusty, old chap, that was a 24-carrot joke," he said solemnly.

"I had a hutch he was going to say that," Julio confided to Brad who held his nose.

Matt groaned, "Will somebody please get these people out of my hare!"

Then everyone was laughing and talking and pitching in to get the meeting room cleaned up before they went to collapse in their assigned guest rooms. Those who had been on the mission began to describe it in great detail as those who had been forced to stay home hung on every word.

Hondo caught Matt's eye and gave him the thumbs up sign. "Now this is what I call a team!" he said.

"Looks like MASK is here to stay, Bruce," Matt said.

Bruce flipped one of his prototype models end over end, then caught it in a firm grip.

"And to think," he said, "that it all started with a toy!"

The End

A/N: Thank you for reading my MASK magnum opus. There won't be any more MASK stories, but you're welcome to check my file for other genres.