Princess Tutu Fan Fiction ❯ The Madrigal: Princess Tutu and the Secret Six II ❯ Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 

That evening, Johnny prepared for the job. He did what no one would have expected. He got a room for the night in the heart of town, and put his bike in an alley, because a hotel in the heart of town would be the last place they would have looked for him. Despite being in the right, he was not sure if they would listen to that barkeep at all, so he was not going to take any chances. However, a transformation was taking place. Johnny was melting away as he started to put on the racing slicks, and the Magpie began to emerge. He acted like he and the Magpie were two different entities to throw people off, and to keep people from finding him and killing him for what he had done. It was better that way. Once he was changed, he went out the window that overlooked the alley and scaled his way down. Once mounted, he brought the bike to life, went to the other end of the alley, and went to the institution the back way. He was going to get the information that he wanted, and no bunch of redneck lug nuts were going to stop him.

 

He pulled the bike up to the institute, and then put it into a tree line that overlooked the area. It was an old west military instillation that had been turned into the state hospital. It had all kinds of buildings in old red brick, several acres, and fenced off with a low, old red brick wall all the way around the property. There was a state historical marker there in a pyramid, stating what had been there, and any events that had taken place. Yet, there was one building to the center that had the Magpie's interest. That was where the asylum was, and that was the place that would tell him what he wanted to know. After hiding the bike, he leapt the fence and moved in the cover of darkness to the middle building. Security was not tight, because this was not a prison or a bank. This was a hospital. Even though there were insane people there, the location of the building, and the nature of wanting to cure people and not imprison them, getting in and out would be easy. There were a couple of security guards, but they were nothing more than rent-a-cops. He slipped past them into the lobby, and hit the ground. Fortunately, the nurse on duty was not looking at the door when he entered. It was well lit, so he had to move quickly. It was horseshoe in shape with the double six file cabinets on the back, phone board, computer, and several clip boards. There was only one door, and that was where the Magpie headed. He needed to get the keys, find out where the records were, and then get his information. He crawled around, and then stopped when there was a mild alarm. Another nurse came to the opposite side of the reception desk and told her that one of the more disturbed patients was close to a fit, and they had to get a sedative to him fast. Magpie crawled back fast as she jumped up and responded to the need. Now he was alone. There were security cameras everywhere, yet, oddly enough, there was none on reception because, for some reason, being so close to the guards, no one figured that it was needed. Once they were gone, he jumped over and started to look quickly. He first found the room with the records, but then he also noted that the computer had a desktop icon that led to those same records. Things could not have been better for him! He remembered the screen he was on, and then clicked on it. Yet, now it asked for a password. Now, it went from great to rotten. It returned to great when he noticed several words written on the desk calendar on the desk. He looked at the number of words, and it corresponded with the number of days that had been scratched out. “Too easy,” he thought, realizing that, again, this was not a prison, and certain things would not be as tight. He punched in the word, looked up the name, and found several pages there. He jotted down the local address where he had lived, and then brought the window down. He then found their e-mail, clicked on it, put in his own address, attached the file, sent it, then erased his address off the directory and closed the records window. He then brought up the other window that had been there before and made his way out. There would be one more stop.

 

He took off down the road, and headed to the house where he had lived, hoping this man's parents were still there. However, as he approached the house, three police cars emerged, seeing the bike screaming down the road where they figured he would be heading. “Wow!” thought Magpie, “They brought out the whole force for me!”

He gunned up the motor knowing two things: there was no way on earth they were going to catch that bike, because it was just as fast as any Japanese racing bike, and there were spots their cars could not go. He knew they knew better than to call in the state police on this, because he could easily embarrass them when he showed the case he was working on. It would be certain that the state police would be made aware of the events in Fawcett in case he decided to cross state lines, and they needed to recognize the killer. With that, he gunned up his engine and took off like he had entered warp speed. The cops floored it, the engines being, essentially, NASCAR engines. However, not even that would be enough. They were giving it all they had, but he was cutting around corners, and going into places the cars could not. They tried to use the knowledge of the town, but it was not like Magpie had not been in situations like this before. He cut up on alley, went halfway down another, and then doubled back down the other. They had blocked off the other, and stopped long enough to see them dismount and head down the alley to find nothing. At that moment, Magpie gunned it and tore back the way he came. By the time the cops heard him roar by and head back to their cars, he was out of sight. They then figured that there was no catching him now, for he would be long gone.

 

About an hour later, he pulled up at the Brooks residence, and waited for the family to head for bed. It was one of the more ritzy places in town, and thus, this must have been one of the controlling families. It was more than just being the outsider—it was an outsider bringing attention to the town, causing outsiders to come in and destroy their “paradise.” Sadly, no matter what happened, if their son was the Saturday Night Killer, it was over for this hole in the wall. Once the lights were all out, he went to the kitchen door, and then found it unlocked. He did not think towns like that existed anymore, but there it was! He slipped in, pulled out his flashlight, and headed into the living room. He found family pictures that covered all the prominent periods in their lives. However, he spotted one photo that showed what looked like an eight year old boy in dance tights that looked vaguely like his target. He pulled out his miniature digital camera, photographed that, and then crept upstairs. Once there, he examined some rooms, and came across what looked like a study. When he went in, there were stacks of vinyl records, covering many kinds of the classics—including ballets! He left there, and then found a room that had all the fixtures covered with white sheets. This had to be Gilbert's room. He started looking in the dressers, but they were empty. He then went into the closet, and that too was empty. As he was about to walk out, the floor creaked, and he stepped back off. He waited to be sure no one heard him, and then put the light on it. It was a trap door. Quickly, he had it off, and found the mother lode!

 

Considering how empty things were, it was obvious the people here had no clue this was there, and therefore, whatever was in there would tell him much about his target. As he sifted through, he was shocked by the number of pornographic magazines he saw, as well as lingerie magazines, and women's fashion magazines. They were all well worn, and they looked like many of them had been retrieved from the trash, alleys, gutters, and whatnot. Below that, he found a photo album/scrapbook. When he opened it, he found photographs of Gilbert at various stages of childhood, and all of them were of him in dance clothes! He also found on the backs of the photos different messages. At first, they were joyous over successes on stage, but one then said, “Age eight: beat up after show.”

He looked at another one, and it said, “Age ten: gang raped, called queer boy and dirty.”

He wondered why this was happening, considering his family had money, and could have sent him someplace like Kinkan, Los Angeles, San Francisco, or any other places that would have had private schools to foster his dance skills. It was apparent that he was still going to public schools amongst the prejudice bigots of that town, and it must have been living hell, especially if what he heard at the bar was hammered into him from childhood. Then he came across a newspaper article that made him want to cry. It read, “Local boy attacked by outsiders for being a dancer.”

“Outsiders my eye!” thought Magpie, “It was the locals, and they were covering for it.”

He went on to read how the boy, who was to remain anonymous—obviously—was in the hospital for two weeks. The police, (“Such as they are,” thought Magpie,) were investigating, but they said that outsiders were hard to trace. They were not getting the state police to cooperate in the investigation, (“Yeah, right!”) so there was no way to find out how it happened. He knew that the Fawcett City district attorney would love to have these things once it went to trial, so he decided to take the album. Then it dawned on him: check the article's date, and then check the date on the magazines. The magazines had dates that would be set about six months after the incident, so he figured that this started not long after. He took about seven of the magazines, and made sure it was enough of the assortment that he needed to help form a psychological profile beyond what he expected to find once he got home.

 

Once he got back to town, things had quieted somewhat, but he took no chances. He went in a back way, parked his bike again, scaled the wall, went in, and changed clothes again. He then began to set his finds into his bag, and one fell open. From what he saw, he had to admire his taste in women. However, as he was putting it back, he noticed that some of them had been drawn on. He collected the magazines, but they were loaded with graffiti that stated that it was all dirty, and that he hated it. That, he could not understand. He then decided to look in the fashion magazine, and found an ad for dance clothes. He then started to see some kind of a diagram drawn on it, with the heading, “Why dancers are dirty, and what to do about them.”

He pointed out various spots on the body, how they moved, and what different dance moves would cause the gyrations that he considered dirty. Because he did have a knowledge of the form he hated, Johnny had to admit that, if one had a perverted mind, as Gilbert seemed to, then it would make sense for him to state these things. Furthermore, the way he said to deal with them fit his modus operandi perfectly. Take the feet, they cannot dance. Disembowel them, and you get out the dirty inside them. Mar the face, and they would not be pretty enough to dance anymore, and they would be cured. “Talk about curing the disease by killing the patient!” said Johnny, as he stuffed this back into his bag. He had to share this with the Secret Six as soon as he got back, because there would be no way in a million years that either they—or Fawcett's finest—could have figure any on this out. Once this was done, he left town, and headed to the train depot to get his bike shipped back, and then took a bus to the airport. He shipped the information with the bike, lest security try to take it away at the airport.

 

 

That Monday, when classes started again, everyone was saddened to hear that yet another dancer had died. Apparently, when they went to find their man, he had already moved, and found a different victim. This one was a 19 year old in the dance school where the company met. She was a new girl, and had had only one session, so Rue had not had the chance to meet her. Still, she would have been one of her students, which angered her more and just put steel into her resolve to stop the goon. The DNA report came back showing, not a criminal past, but one of a man that had been institutionalized out west—one Gilbert Brooks. However, when they tried to get more information, the town blocked every effort with every legal trick they had. That Brooks was the killer was not to be doubted. However, they needed more than just that to bring the case to trial. They did have probable cause, and that was enough to put a warrant out for the man. It was a start at least.

 

However, there were some interesting happenings at the school. After classes ended that day, a limousine pulled up to the gate, where the Lexcorp security guards dutifully stopped the car. They questioned the driver as to whether or not he had permission to be there, and then demanded paper proof. Yet, at that moment, Mr. Johansson came out and told them to let the limo in. As it entered, Ahiru, Billy, Mary, Rachel, Mai, Yuma, Nana, and Elly walked up to see Bruce Wayne and the rest of the Pas De Six exit the car. The security came over, curious as to why they had been called off. “Excuse me,” said the one in charge, “but did you give them permission to be here?”

“Well of course I did!” snapped the headmaster, “He is here because the board of trustees wanted to relay some information.”

Bruce cut in here and said, “The first thing is that you are all fired! New security is coming.”

“No we are not,” said the head man, “because that one has to come from Mr. Luthor himself.”

Bruce just shook his head, and said, “Security, see these men off.”

Out of the blue flew in three teenage girls—Supergirl, one that looked like Martian Manhunter's daughter, and Wonder Girl. While that was happening, Robin, Red Devil, and Blue Beetle were pouncing on their targets. Then, what looked like a white insect flew in and blasted a guard that had pulled a gun with an energy beam and knocked him straight onto his butt. “Atom!” exclaimed Bruce, “Glad to see you come!”

“I wouldn't miss it, Mr. Wayne!” Atom answered. In short order the guards were being subdued and removed off campus. However three had managed to break away, and were trying to get a bead on the group, especially Bruce Wayne. Suddenly, the guns flew from their hands, and something they could not see pushed them to the ground. The commotion caught the attention of Blue Beetle, and his armor formed a multi-tazer rack, and he blasted them all before they could fully gain their feet. Rachel wondered what had happened, but she saw Elly gone, and sensed her presence as did Miss Manhunter. In fact, Miss Manhunter, because she was telepathic, talked right into Elly's head, saying, “That's a nice trick, but it needs work.”

Elly wheeled around to find Miss Manhunter right behind her, fully able to see her. “You have to work on being invisible to my kind as well, because I can do what you can do. Maybe I can show you.”

“Hey, it was just because my friends were in trouble,” said Elly, “I am not a superhero!”

“Suuuuuuuuuuuure you're not!” said Manhunter knowingly.

As the heroes were “escorting” the Lexcorp people off the campus, Mr. Johansson looked at the kids, and said, “This is the new security for now: the Teen Titans.”

The Secret Six and Rachel all got knowing looks on their faces, and the headmaster continued, “They will be hidden amongst the student population, so you will not know who they are. However, they will always be there if there is trouble, so welcome them!”

At this, Bruce said he wanted to meet with the Pas De Six over some business matters at the theatre. However, that was the cue for the Titans to go there themselves as the six got in the car. However, Rachel, who had found a place to discreetly transform into the Raven, came up to Elly and said, “Since you know all of the truth, you need to be aware of things.”

Elly was becoming frustrated. She was trying to avoid this world, but she felt like she was trying to move through quicksand: the more she fought it, the deeper she went. She just could not stand it.

 

Raven appeared with Elly as the others were arriving. Since all the work was internal now, no one outside was privy to the conversation. Billy then said, “Holy Moley! Isn't this overkill?”

“With Luthor involved in things,” responded Bruce, “nothing is overkill.”

It was then that Wonder Girl pointed out Elly and said, “Hey, who are you?”

Miss Manhunter slipped up to Elly and said, “Not a superhero, eh?”

Elly just sighed and rolled her eyes. Robin then said, “You guys will be the only ones who know who we are in the school, so if there is a problem, we will be right there if you cannot react in time.”

Rue then said, “However, they have shut down Fawcett City Ballet until further notice, and since the theater is done enough to live in, the three of us are moving in, and teaching part time at the school!”

Mary's eyes went wide, and she screamed, “YYYYYYYYYYYYES!” and jumped into Fakir's arms. She then remembered herself and got down all red-faced as everyone laughed a friendly laugh over the display. “At least we can be together, and work on the Saturday Night Killer case.”

“Hey, we heard about that,” said Supergirl, “and we will do what we can to help.”

Atom chimed in and said, “I'll be in the city, and I will be keeping an eye on things.”

Elly then had to know. “How about all these crazy rules?” she asked.

“I've been talking to Mr. Johansson,” responded Bruce, “and he is going to loosen a few things. There will still be a curfew, but there will be dances again, and you can go on the town. Constable Brock said his whole force is dedicated to your safety. However, no one leaves alone—always in two or more, and normal on-campus rules will be enforced.”

All those that were students let out a cheer, and they could not wait to share the news. Then Billy said, “Now we can have more time to prepare for the variety show! We have three weeks—let's make it happen.”

 

As this was going on, Luthor received a call from the expelled guards, and Luthor was growing in anger more and more. When he heard what was replacing them, he hit the roof! He then gave orders for them to go to plan “B.” If enough happened, then he may be able to make a case against Wayne to the trustees. That way, he could get back in. No one was going to take away a payday!

 

 

 

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