Justin Stone and the Iris of the Madonna

[joegoda]

Justin stood at the front door to the pawn shop and adjusted his collar and put on his grey gloves. He looked up, scanning the skies, and finding nothing, looked to his left, and besides the figure of Jonathan, and behind him, Verne, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The street beyond was clear of any skulking shadows.

"Hmm." It was a low sound, barely perceptible. Jonathan heard it, though.

"What's up, Justin?" He also adjusted his jacket, not so much for comfort, but to conceal the compressed air fletchet pistol. "Something bothering you?"

Justin looked to his right, and again, the street was clear. He could see Marion and Milky standing on the far side of the cross street, diligently watching the automobile. "No," he said, sounding casual. "There's nothing bothering me, Jonathan. I'm just... waiting."

He turned the doorknob to the pawn shop and this time the door, being unlocked, opened easily. The top of the door hit the entry bell it dinged merrily, out of place amidst all the chaos of the shop.

Justin strode in; taking note of the fact that none of the stock in the store had been moved. The heaps and mounds of society's cast off goods were just as disheveled as the night before. The inch thick dust on the floor still showed indications of the previous night's struggle, as well as any movement that had occurred afterward. There were fresh marks of a dragging foot there. Justin mentally collected this without saying anything to the others.

He strode confidently to the heavy brass gate at the back of the shop and rapped his cane against the grate. "Shopkeep! We have business, you and I."

A loud crashing and banging was heard from somewhere in the back of the store. "Shopkeep!" Justin rapped his cane against the gate again. The crashing stopped. Justin turned to Jonathan, pointed at the gate and said, "Can you do something with this?"

Jonathan stepped up and examined the lock. "Not if you want it done quick. Five pin tumblers, tight cylinder. Nope... this would take a bit of time." He looked at the gate, reached up and grabbed the bars and gave it a shake. It rattled in its hinges. "Now, if you want, I can just lift if out of its hinges. The hinges are just simple pin and barrel, easy stuff." He shrugged. "It's kind of silly, really. Having a lock like that on a gate like this..."

"Jonathan, just do it, please." Justin gave him an impatient look and pulled the fletch pistol from his shoulder holster. He checked the chamber, and satisfied it was ready, held it before him.

Verne stepped up to join Justin. He touched the man's elbow. "Monsieur Stone! Do you think that the pistol is necessary?"

Justin whipped his attention to Verne. "I do not know what is necessary or what is not necessary." His eyes narrowed. "Do you, sir?"

"No, no! Of course not." Verne stuttered as he answered. "I am sure you are correct." He also pulled his pistol out of his pocket, and grimly checked it as he had seen Justin do. "As you say, it is better to be safe, rather than sorry, yes?"

"Absolutely, monsieur Verne." Justin nodded at Jonathan who knelt down, grabbed the brass gate by its bottom and heaved.

The gate's three inch hinges screamed in protest, but they moved, slowly, slowly upward. Jonathan's face turned red with the strain, and then even more red as he increased the pressure.

"Just about there, Justin." He looked at the hinges and the two separate sections were almost clear of each other. Setting his stance once again, Jonathan took a breath and groaned. The hinges separated with a final snick and the gate fell backwards out of Jonathan's hands, to crash into the cases behind it.

"Good job, brother," Justin smiled. "Now," he said, "there isn't a moment to lose. We much catch them before they escape." He dodged around his brother and into the darkness of the back room of the pawnshop.

"Them?" Jonathan raised a bushy eyebrow as he followed quickly on Justin's footsteps.

Verne waited for Jonathan to clear the gate before he gingerly stepped around the wreckage.

Jonathan followed Justin's back into the gloom of the back of the pawn shop. Justin abruptly turned left and disappeared.

"Jonathan!" He heard his brother's urgent call. "Hurry, they are getting away!"

Jonathan doubled his speed, turning left where he saw Justin do so. There was a tiny room hidden by that left turn, and Jonathan burst through the miniscule doorway. He nearly tripped over the figure of a man, who was being held in place by both Justin's boot and his cane. The man was roaring and grunting unintelligibly from his place in the floor. He had apparently been interrupted in the process of escaping down a trap door.

He was a large man, and he barely fit into the square cut into the floor. A massive mop of black hair over a square face with thick, fatty lips and piggy black eyes. He wore a farmer's coveralls and a red plaid shirt. His legs and hips had disappeared down the hole, but Justin had the man's torso trapped from going any further by shoving his boot against the man's broad back. Justin had somehow gotten behind him and had pushed the man forward, so that he was lying against the open hatch, his enormous and hairy arms splayed out before him, flailing helplessly. Justin's fletchet pistol lay up against the wall far to the side, having been knocked out of Justin's hand by the big man before Justin had been able to get behind him.

The reason why Justin had called was not because he could not control the huge man. It was because he was having difficulties with the second man. Strapped on the back of the giant that Justin had under control, shouting obscenities, was the pawn shop owner. He was held in place as securely as any papoose by a tight leather harness that ran like a knapsack around the huge man's shoulders.

He was able, however, to use his hands to beat Justin's feet and legs, and he was able to bite at whatever part of Justin was within reach of his snapping teeth. The pawnshop owner had gotten hold of Justin's cane and was pulling Justin's body down to where the crazed man's teeth could clamp down on arm, shoulder or neck. Justin was fighting a valiant fight, but the man had tremendous strength in his arms and shoulders, gained from years of swinging from place to place, and Justin needed help.

Jonathan stopped, unsure. "What would you like me to do, Justin?" He didn't want to attack the old man, even though it was obvious to Jonathan that he had the upper hand and that Justin might lose if he did nothing. If Justin was pulled, for even one second, away from holding the big man captive against the hatch, then both the giant and the pawnshop owner could and most likely would be lost in the sewers below. Still, to Jonathan's mind, this was not what would be called a 'fair fight'. "I can't hit him! It wouldn't be right!"

"Then just shoot him, Jonathan, and be done with it, please!" Justin was tiring, and the pawnshop owner had grabbed the cane out of Justin's hand and tossed it away. He now had a handful of Justin's tie and was choking him with it, pulling him closer, cursing and gnashing his teeth. "Shoot the big one while you're at it, and save us both a lot of trouble. This is not as easy as it looks!"

Jonathan leveled his pistol, and took aim. "Sorry, old man," he said. He squeezed the trigger and the little pistol coughed. A dart flew the short distance and buried itself in the meaty part of the Pawnshop owner's shoulder. Jonathan's pistol coughed again, and another dart appeared in the arm of the giant man, followed by a second.

The pawnshop owner howled in frustration and anger. "You two don't know what you're into, you don't!" The words spat from his mouth and flew, wet and sticky. "You don't know who...," his voice went silent and he slumped in his harness.

The thin tube of a fletchet pistol pressed against Jonathan's ear. A soft voice with a French accent said, "Monsieur Stone, if you would be so kind as to take your foot from Henrick's back? Otherwise, I shall have to shoot your brother, and I would hate to waste such a valuable mind."

Jonathan didn't budge a muscle. He moved his eyes to Justin, and raised one eyebrow. Justin didn't move either. He kept his foot firmly planted on the giant's back, and smiled gently.

"Ah," he said quietly. "The worm turns." He stood his ground, waiting. Slowly the guttural sounds from the huge man quieted and the man's eyes closed. Quiet snores were coming from his mouth when Justin pulled his foot back. "All right, Verne. I have done as you asked." He stepped back, and straightened the creases in his trouser legs. "Where do we stand now?"

"Where we stand, monsieur Stone, is I win." Verne pushed Jonathan forward, keeping the pistol tight against his neck. "If you would, please, reach inside the harness and retrieve the Iris."

"All right."

Jonathan struggled briefly against Verne's hold. He felt a sharp pressure under his left shoulder and realized that, as he tried to shove his elbow backwards into Verne's chest, his arms would not work. He willed them to move, but they would not, regardless of how intensely he tried. A tingle ran across his back from one shoulder to the other, as if his arms were asleep.

"What the hell did you do to me, you creep?" Jonathan growled.

"Do not struggle, please, monsieur Ratzenmueller," Verne hissed in his ear. "There is a nerve bundle under your shoulder blade that causes temporary paralysis to your arms. If I pushed a bit harder, it would stop your heart, and nobody wishes that."

Justin stepped forward, and not taking his eyes off of Verne and his brother, bent down and searched within the harness that held the shopkeeper to the giant Henrick. He found something about the size and shape he expected, and pulled it out. The item was wrapped in an oilskin and was in the form of a rugby ball. He held it up for Verne to see.

"Is this it?" Jonathan began to remove the wrappings from the item.

"No!" Verne shouted. "Do not unwrap it, please. Not here." He started backing out of the little room. "Follow, please," he ordered Justin. He pulled Jonathan with his left hand and kept the pistol against Jonathan's neck. "I would suggest you do as asked, monsieur Stone. I do know a bit about anatomy. I believe this a dart into your brother's jugular would cause quite a mess, no?"

Jonathan struggled, just a bit. At least his mouth worked, and so he used it. "Justin, no! Don't give it to him. If we move quick enough the bleeding wouldn't be all that severe. We can take this bum."

Justin nodded, but not to Jonathan. "I agree, monsieur Verne. Let us proceed out of this place. I find it depresses me."

Justin rubbed the side of his nose and sneezed. Jonathan's eyes widened, but he nodded imperceptibly. Justin smiled briefly, and followed the two out of the room, but as Verne and his brother turned the little corner, he quickly and quietly retrieved his pistol and slipped it into his shoulder harness. The tiny bit of time this took was not noticed as he joined the two in the larger back room.

"Very good, monsieur Stone." Verne looked behind him, briefly, while keeping a tight hold on Jonathan. "If you would be so good as to accompany me to the outside, please?" He continued walking backwards, so he could continue to keep his eye on Justin.

"Tell me, monsieur Verne," Justin said, carrying the package under his arm. "You and Englebrandt are partners?"

Verne laughed, low and dangerous. "No, monsieur. Englebrandt works for me!" He pulled Jonathan back through the opening and into the room beyond. Stepping around the broken glass of the jewelry cases, he chuckled. "I needed someone dangerous looking to do the ... less than desirable chores. Who would think twice about me, monsieur? I look like someone's kindly uncle. Englebrandt gave the appearance of credible cruelty."

He focused his eyes on Jonathan, who casually stepped over the ruined brass cage. "And, as a man of business, you understand the need to be cruel at times, yes?"

Justin shook his head negatively. "No, I'm afraid I don't agree with you." He stopped and stood in the middle of the pawn shop. "Look about you, monsieur Verne." He held out his hands and spun gently about. "This," he said, "is the world as it is. Do you not agree there is enough cruelty in it?"

He paused briefly, with his back to Verne and his brother. It seemed as if he was pausing in thought. "There is," he continued, "a very fine line, perhaps, between the sternness of a father and the cruelty of a master."

Once again facing the two, he held the package in his left hand. "I never wanted, monsieur Verne, to be a master. I firmly believe I will never be a father." He tossed the package lightly in his hand. "My father was both, I'm afraid. I loved him, and at the same time I feared him."

He took a step to where the two men stood. "He was, my father, and odd combination of cruelty and compassion." He nodded at Jonathan. "He took a waif from the streets and raised that boy as if he was a son." He shook his head in amazement. "I have often wondered how he balanced the two."

The bell over the front door chimed, and a large shadow fell into the room.

"Englebrandt, I presume?" Justin nodded towards the shadow behind Verne.

"Oui." Verne nodded. "I radioed him to come here, while you were subduing Schulman and his brother." He pulled a microphone from his hat band. "You are not the only ones with little tricks, messieurs."

"How odd," Justin observed, "that you seem to surround yourself with big men, or cripples." He sat the package on a small pile of clothing. "Tell me, monsieur Verne." Justin picked a bit of lint off his sleeve and gazed at Verne. "Why the ruse? Why go to the trouble to have Englebrandt bring the Iris here, and then send a letter to Hauptman to come fetch it? Why get us involved in this whole...," He paused, stuck for a word, and looked at his brother, pleading.

"Shenanigans?" Jonathan offered.

"Yes, thank you." Back to Verne, "Why involve us all these shenanigans? It caused the death of a good man, and burned my... our house down. It has caused quite a bit of trouble to me, personally."

A sad look passed over Verne's face. "It is regrettable, it is true. I did not intend to have monsieur Hauptman come to harm. It is unfortunate that monsieur Schulman had other plans for the Iris. It was he that had Henrick kill Hauptman, not I." He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the guilt. "It is very hard to find competent help these days. When I contacted him to see if monsieur Hauptman had accepted delivery of the Iris, he told me of what had occurred."

Verne's gaze turned hard. "I was most displeased with him, I should tell you. It is no wonder that he attempted to run tonight."

"Yes, yes," Jonathan said, politely stiffing a yawn. "I'm sure you are quite frightening, when backed up by your henchmen. That still doesn't explain why you felt you needed to disturb my brother and me."

"You are very cavalier, monsieur Stone." Verne shook Jonathan's arm to drive the point of who was in charge. "I would not think you would be so casual about your brother's safety."

"Oh, I'm not," Justin said. "I just want to hear from you a justification of why we're even here."

"You are here," Verne said, "because I have need of your technology. Tesla turned me down, saying I was a madman. I offered to share untold riches with him, and he laughed in my face."

"Huh," Jonathan said, wonderingly. "I guess I should have returned his last call."

Verne, not amused, said gruffly, "It would have done you no good. I had my man... explain things to him. I believe he is currently in a hospital, in Vienna."

"Please, monsieur Verne." Justin made a circular motion with his hand. "Pray continue. You have need of our technology..."

"Oui... yes." Verne nodded. "Your technology. I had heard, through various sources, that you were experimenting with a new form of energy. A form of energy that was wondrous and very powerful. That is why I approached Tesla. He had the concepts, the theories. I spoke to him about you, and although he was not terribly forth coming, once monsieur Englebrandt explained things to him, he was quite helpful. He knew about how you had taken his theories of energy and frequency and turned them into reality. He even knew about this... plasma ball of yours. Or rather, one of you." He gently shook Jonathan's arm. "You are the genius behind it all, while you," he waved the pistol in Justin's direction, "you are the business popinjay. A showman."

Justin sniffed gently and waved a gloved hand, dismissing the charges against him.

Undaunted, Verne continued, "It was most unfortunate that you did not have the Iris when I arrived at your home. It was too late to stop the attack on your house that I had planned. I had hoped that you would show me the Iris, and once your house had burned down, unfortunately killing you, I would be able to sift through the ashes and retrieve it, and the plans for this new form of energy."

Verne shook his head again, in mock sadness. "But no matter. All is well! We survived, thanks to your ingenuity, and I found what I was seeking. That amazing plasma ball that your brother Jonathan created, with its ability to store unlimited power. I will take it back to my own laboratory and make use of it to power the Iris. With that power at my finger tips, there is no end to what I can accomplish!"

"There are some that might call you quite mad," Justin said. "You do realize that what you have just described is an incredibly complex and insane plan with no possibility of having worked, don't you? In other words, how could you possibly get hold of 'our technology' if we were dead?" Justin shook his head sadly. "My dear chap, there are some serious holes in your logic. Perhaps you should go back to the drawing board and start over." He smiled, ingenuously. "It is really all right. We'll wait, won't we Jonathan?"

"Sure," Jonathan agreed. "You can take your little prize, and in a year or so come back. We'll talk over tea and see what we can arrange."

Ignoring them, Verne made a motion with his head and said, "Monsieur Englebrandt, would you please relieve monsieur Stone of our gift?"

Englebrandt stepped from the shadows, all seven feet of him. He was, exactly as Justin described. Well muscled, Monocle over the right eye, bald, and with a scar that ran from the outer tip of his right eye, down his cheek and across his throat.

He stepped past where Verne was holding Jonathan and over to where Justin stood. Justin returned Englebrandt's challenging stare and held it for several long seconds before the big man turned away. Justin smiled. Englebrandt picked up the package and walked back to stand behind Verne.

"Thank you for your assistance, messieurs." Verne touched the tip of his derby and slowly backed away. "Perhaps we shall meet again, another day." He and his man backed through the door and out it, causing the bell to ding once again.

Justin crossed the space between him and Jonathan quickly. Taking his brother's arm, he began to rub the area beneath Jonathan's left shoulder briskly. "Are you all right, Jonathan? Nothing permanently paralyzed?" he asked, concerned.

Jonathan twisted where he stood, flexing his shoulders and working out any residual paralysis. "I think I'm okay, Justin." He turned and fixed a glare on Justin. "Why didn't you just shoot the bastard?"

"Because I wanted to hear what he was all about, that's why." Justin continued to rub. "Besides, I knew he couldn't have shot you."

"What?" Jonathan exclaimed. "He had a pistol, too, you know!"

"Yes, Jonathan," Justin said slyly. "But it wasn't loaded. I made sure of that myself when I packed the pistols. Only yours and mine was loaded with darts. There was too much of the tale he told us at the house that conflicted. He knew the name of the pawnshop owner and Englebrandt's name. He knew the details of Hauptman coming here and yet he showed too little surprise that Hauptman was murdered. And he came carrying no luggage, remember?" He shook his head. "No, there was too much about him that didn't quite add up."

Jonathan stepped away from his brother and turned to face him. "You knew he was up to no good? You knew and didn't tell me?"

Justin shrugged slightly. "Well... I did have my suspicions. I did not know for absolute. I certainly did not know he would be behind burning down our house, especially with him in it. One thing I did know for certain, though."

Jonathan waited for three entire seconds before asking. "And what, pray tell, Justin, was that?"

Justin pointed toward the front door. "That man is not Jules Verne. His accent was terrible." He smiled. "It doesn't matter, though."

"And why is that, dear brother?" Jonathan didn't even wait one second.

Justin walked over to the pile of clothing where the package had been and lifted small bundle of cloth. He pulled out a shining sculpture of an iris, half open. Even in the dirty light, the object shone brilliantly, as if having a life of its own.

"Because they didn't get the Iris," Justin said smugly. "They got an old rugby ball."

The front door opened just as Justin was wrapping the Iris in a bit of cloth. Marion and his friend Milky burst in at a dead run, knocking the bell off its hook. The two men turned in surprise at the commotion, taking fighting stances in case it was the man pretending to be Jules Verne returning. "Ratman!" Marion cried out, breathlessly. "Someone's pinched your ... whatsit."

"The automobile?" Justin turned to the boys.

Milky nodded vigorously. "Yeah! We told them not to, or else they'd be in real trouble, but they just pushed us out of the way and took it anyway. We could'a taken them, but there was a really big guy with 'em. Marion was scared, I think."

"You were scared too, chicken!" Marion shoved his friend. "Heck, anybody'd be scared of that guy."

A very grim look clouded Jonathan's face and he shook his head. "That's very bad, Justin."

"Why? We'll just get another one." Justin said.

"No, that's not that bad part," Jonathan said, darkly.

"Perhaps you had better enlighten me, Jonathan." Justin took a step towards his brother. "You know how I hate to be left out."

"The plasma ball that Verne," he grimaced, "or who ever the heck he is wants so badly?"

Justin nodded. "Yes... the plasma ball. Go on."

"See...," Jonathan paused.

"Oh, do get to it, Jonathan!" Justin said impatiently. "It isn't like I'm going to send you to your room without supper."

"If the plasma in the ball depletes, then the resulting vacuum that's created will cause a massive implosion."

"And IMplosion?" Justin raised an eyebrow. "That is like an EXplosion, only... in reverse?"

"Right," Jonathan nodded. "It'll basically suck everything into the space of, oh, a six inch diameter."

"Hm." Justin raised his other eyebrow. "Define everything, please?"

"Oh," Jonathan bunched his already bunched brow together. "I'd say everything within a three mile radius that's not nailed down. It's pretty powerful stuff, Justin. Tesla calls it a 'radiant energy system'. The plasma draws its power from... nowhere, I guess. Maybe everywhere." He shrugged. "I told that fake Verne guy I wasn't through testing it."

"And how did you ever..." Justin just threw up his hands. "Bad Jonathan! No more testing killer plasma balls!" He sighed. "How far can they get, and how do we stop it?"

"Stopping it is easy," Jonathan said. "I just have to pull it out of the armature before the plasma depletes. With them driving the automobile, I figure they have about twelve miles to go before that happens." He shrugged. "At thirty five miles an hour, that's maybe half an hour. Maybe."

"Thirty five miles an hour? Good lord in Heaven, who would want to go that fast?" Justin sighed. He turned to the boys. "Did they happen to mention where they were going?"

Milky nodded. "I head the old guy with the beard say something about the docks. I bet they have a boat there or something."

Justin smiled at the boy. "Good lad. How would you like a job?" Without getting an answer, Justin turned to his brother. "How are we supposed to catch them, do you imagine? Wish ourselves there?"

Marion tugged Justin's sleeve.

"Yes?"

"Well," Marion said, "I don't know if this helps any, but they left one hell of a balloon parked outside."

Comments

[tapestry01.livejournal.com]

Woo-hoo! You made it!

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Chum. It didn't go even a bit as I planned. Stupid story possessed my fingers. I even sat there for an hour thinking.... 'how can I change this to make it be what I wanted it to be?' Wasn't gonna work out that way, I guess.

[shackrlu.livejournal.com]

WooHOO!!! Congratulations!!!!{{HUGS}}

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Honeybun. You feeling any better?

[docjeff.livejournal.com]

:) I would love to take a ride in that balloon

*Hugs* Congratulations!

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Doc. The rest of the story is forthcoming, and with it, the balloon ride! and thanks for taking this trip with me so far... I think maybe it's a good base, but man, to make it ready for public consumption?? Lotsa work.

[capi.livejournal.com]

Verne's gaze turned hard. "I was most displeased with him, I should tell you. It is no wonder that he attempted to run tonight."
(( tonight? i thought it was just morning? EARLY morning, even? ))
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"Yes, yes," Jonathan said, politely stiffing a yawn. "I'm sure you are quite frightening, when backed up by your henchmen. That still doesn't explain why you felt you needed to disturb my brother and me." (( stiffing a yawn? *chuckle* Interesting image, that...))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Englebrandt stepped from the shadows, all seven feet of him. He was, exactly as Justin described. Well muscled, Monocle over the right eye, bald, and with a scar that ran from the outer tip of his right eye, down his cheek and across his throat.
(( He was exactly as Justin described is a sentence, but it can also continue on. This whole bit needs some work, luv. It's awkward as it stands. Have a looksee.))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yes, Jonathan," Justin said slyly. "But it wasn't loaded. I made sure of that myself when I packed the pistols. Only yours and mine was loaded with darts. (( Only yours and mine WERE loaded... *chuckle* ))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Justin pointed toward the front door. "That man is not Jules Verne. His accent was terrible." He smiled. "It doesn't matter, though."
(( Well THAT's a huge relief. I couldn't STAND for Jules Verne to really be the bad guy!! It was KILLING ME!! *LOL* ))
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Oh BOY, you're not FINISHED yet!! *whoooop*!!!!

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Have I told you how immensely important you are to me? Well, you are! Loves my lil sis!

[capi.livejournal.com]

*beam*

I will never grow weary of hearing it, dearling.

((( squish ))) I adore you, y'know. *grin*

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

))Squish(( back adoring sis!

[chaoticfayth.livejournal.com]

Congrats! :D

I would've participated, but I don't have the time. XD I've had a novel in the works for what, 10 years now? *snickers*

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

I have a secret. I trade time for speed. Of course, I'm not half as busy as most adults. I live by myself, can stumble out in the am and just sit down and start to write. Doesn't mean the stuff I've written is any good, mind you.

Ten years? Then you've got a good start, yes? It's not the time, that matters dear. The basis for this Nano thing came from when I was about 16 years old, over 20 years ago... um.. 30 years ago.