Jezz and Edge Ch. 02

"I'll stand."

Mr. Garage nodded. "I don't blame you. All things considered."

Jezz's eyes narrowed again. "All *what* things considered?" she said, in a low, dangerous tone.

"Considering what a beautiful day it is," said Mr. Garage. "Moving on. There's been a number of missing people reported lately."

"I'm listening."

"We've heard a few things lately. There are always rumors, you know?" Mr. Garage paused for a moment to put some cotton candy in his mouth before continuing. "And the one thing that most of the missing people have in common in some trendy discothèque in West Chrystal Heights."

Jezz gave Mr. Garage a look. "You just used 'trendy' and 'discothèque' in the same sentence. Was that intentional?"

Mr. Garage shrugged. "So sue me," he said. "There's no accounting for taste. Anyway, we sent in a couple agents. Three female agents, to be exact."

"Yeah?" said Jezz. "They find anything?"

"Probably," said the non-descript man.

"Yeah? What?"

Mr. Garage said, "No way of knowing. After the first night, they stopped reporting in."

Jezz stared. "All three?"

Mr. Garage nodded. "Correct. So we sent in another pair of agents. Good ones. Not that the first three weren't, but they were green. This was a veteran team. A male and female team."

Jezz said, "And they disappeared too?"

The man shook his head. "No, they haven't disappeared. They're still on the job, in fact."

"What do you mean?"

Mr. Garage sighed. "They report in every night. Just like they're supposed to."

Jezz rolled her eyes. "Am I gonna have to drag the story out of you, Garage? If they're there and still on the job, then what's the problem?"

Mr. Garage said, "Something didn't smell right. So I decided to take a look at things myself. Scope out the scene, you know? So I waited outside the club. And after a while, I see my two agents walk out. And I realize immediately that something is wrong."

"Go on."

"What was *wrong*," said Mr. Garage, "was that the female agent was dressed and talking like a Valley Girl out of the '80s."

Jezz blinked. "Valley Girl?" she said. "You mean the 'Like, omigod!' kind of Valley Girl...?"

Mr. Garage took another bite of cotton candy, then said, "That's exactly what I mean."

Jezz said, "And the male agent?"

"He had..." Mr. Garage paused, then forced himself to continue. "He had...a *mullet*."

Jezz whistled softly.

Mr. Garage nodded. "Exactly. That was last night. And that's why I'm here today."

"A mullet," said Jezz. "Wow. So mind-control is definitely in play here. No wonder you came to us."

"Yeah. So you in?"

Jezz said, "What's the pay?"

Mr. Garage named a figure. Jezz nodded.

"Fine," she said. "In cash."

"Don't trust me?"

"Nope."

"I find your lack of faith disturbing, Legs."

"Don't make me break something important to you, Garage," said Jezz. "Now let's wrap it up. I *really* have to get home. Immediately," she said, narrowing eyes briefly at Edge.

"Fine," said Mr. Garage. "Here's the address of the discotheque. It's called 'Isotope'. Oh, and by the way..."

Jezz looked at the man expectantly.

Mr. Garage nodded his head at Edge. "The old guy knocked that elephant off your pile while you were kicking those guys in the head."

It took Jezz a moment to process what Garage had just said. Then she whirled and glared at Edge, who stared back impassively.

When she turned back to Garage, he was gone.

*****

Several hours later, Jezz and Edge stood outside Isotope, the ominously trendy discothèque.

Edge looked at Jezz, then said, "You should tell me again why you are dressed like that. There is no combat advantage to such apparel."

Jezz, who approved of her clothing even less than Edge, grumbled, "No shit, Sherlock."

Edge said, "I'm sure I misheard you, apprentice."

Jezz sighed. "Sorry, sensei. These high-waisted pants with the flared-out legs are disco pants. The tube top isn't ideal, but with the wrapping underneath, it should keep the puppies from tumbling out during a brawl and creating imbalance. The shoes are essentially wooden clogs. I can kick them off quickly if action is called for."

"You were fortunate to find such pants as can contain your voluminous rear end," observed Edge.

"Lucky me," said Jezz dryly.

"Still, it is perhaps good fortune your bottom possesses such mass," said Edge. "It will soften your fall when you trip over that silly footwear."

Jezz rolled her eyes. "Yes, sensei."

"You are doubly fortunate that your plan does not call for such lunacy from me."

"It is a '70s setting, sensei," said Jezz. "Your robes will suffice."

Edge watched the crowd flowing into the club. "The men's plumage is possibly even more colorful than the women."

Jezz shrugged. "The 70s was a strange era," said Jezz, "with equally strange fashion."

"Indeed," said Edge. "Is that one dressed in yellow supposed to be a pump?"

"A what?"

"A pump."

"Oh," said Jezz. "You mean pimp. No, he's not a pimp. See that guy over there? With the white cape and the shoes with the goldfish in them? He's a pimp. Well, a pimp wanna-be, anyway. All right, let's make our move inside."

Once inside, they paused to take in their surroundings. The Bee Gees "Stayin' Alive" blared as people of all ages danced on a black-and-white checkerboard floor. Colorful spotlights created blue, orange, red and green moving circles around the dance area while a glittering disco ball twirled overhead, creating a moving starburst effect on the surrounding walls and carpet. Those who weren't dancing were seated at surrounding tables or along the glitzy bar, sipping brightly colored drinks. Against the far wall was a raised DJ booth, in which a glitzy-dressed man with an impossibly tall top hat could be seen moving within.

Jezz glanced around, looking for an enemy she felt was near, but couldn't identify. Despite the festive nature of the surroundings, there was an ominous intensity in the air. No one was looking at them, no one was doing anything suspicious, but her every instinct was on edge.

The music changed and suddenly "The Hustle", by Van McCoy and the Soul City Symphony, was instructing everybody to do its dance. The dance floor occupants scurried like ants and formed lines. They then began performing the dance moves in perfect sync.

Jezz watched as the whole group danced non-stop in lockstep. Everyone smiled, sequins glittering, as they performed the moves as one. The party atmosphere the song created couldn't overcome the eeriness inherent in having dozens of people move in perfect sync and smile at you as they did so.

Jezz said, "Something's wrong."

"Your powers of observation astonish, apprentice," said Edge.

"I'm serious," said Jezz. "This song isn't meant to be a line dance. And no one has left the floor. Not a single person. And for that matter, no one has jumped in, either."

Edge said, "I would not seek to confuse your analysis with facts, apprentice, but there is no surprise in what you state. That horrible noise you've been referring to as music is a tool of control. Have you not felt the waves attempting to alter your patterns of thought?"

Jezz's eyes went straight to the control booth. The DJ was looking directly at her, his eyes amused under his impossibly tall top hat. He gave her a smile.

Then the music changed again. This time it was Donna Summers' "Last Dance."

Jezz said, "We've been made. Get ready."

The DJ's voice suddenly sounded. "All right, Isotopers! It's Doc Hatter here and it is time for us to say hello to some guests! Did I say guests? Onononono! A Bozo nono! 'Cuz our guests are...The Man! That's right...it's time to take down The Man! Groovy, baby! Take it to the max! Can you dig it? Let's give them a warm Isotope welcome! Oh, yeah yeah, baby! Can you dig it? Can you dig-dig-dig-dig-dig it?"

The lights started whirling in a new pattern, with the twirling glitter ball reflecting the edged colors everywhere. The ambience turned surreal and it seemed everyone was moving in slow motion. As one the crowd on the floor moved toward Jezz and Edge.

And then Rick Dees "Disco Duck" began playing.

Jezz narrowed her eyes at the DJ booth. "'Disco Duck'?!" she yelled. "You went too far!"

The DJ Doc Hatter gave Jezz a smug grin.

The first of the disco dancers lay their hands on Jezz and Edge, and the student and master went to work. The sheer weight of numbers made the early going somewhat difficult, but as more and more of the disco drones fell to the superior training of Jezz and Edge, the tide slowly shifted.

Finally Doc Hatter's voice sounded again. "All righty then, Isotopers! Back it up and let's bring in our roller derby babes... Team Kobayashi Maru! That's right, Isotopers! It's a no-win scenario for The Man! Let's hear it! Bring it bring it bring it Team Kobayashi Maruuuuuuuuu...!"

The crowds parted and four women on roller skates skated through. Although they appeared at first glance dressed in traditional 70s roller derby uniforms, their spiked helmets and shoulder-pads gave them an even more intimidating air. Each woman wore spiked black leather gloves and forearm braces as well.

The four roller derby skaters began skating a tight figure-8 in the center of the dance floor. It was obviously a prelude to an attack.

Jezz said, "Watch the crowd, sensei. I'll deal with the rolling rejects."

Jezz stepped forward and then stood with her arms down. The women on skates continued their figure-8 pattern for one more go-round. Then one-by-one they broke away and made their way toward Jezz, building up speed as they did so.

The first two skaters approached side-by-side. As they got near Jezz, they thrust their fists out simultaneously, attempting to strike her high. Jezz dropped down, avoiding both blows. The other two skaters were right behind them and they both dropped low, also extending their fists simultaneously. Jezz straightened and leaped straight up, doing a forward flip as she did so, avoiding both blows as well.

The four skaters circled around and prepared for another pass. This time started from farther out to the side and timed their patterns to cross directly in front of Jezz. As the first skater arrived, Jezz whirled on one foot and drove a back-kick into the belly of the skater. The skater huffed and bent over, breathless. She grabbed Jezz's leg instinctively.

Feeling her leg grabbed, Jezz spun, using the purchase of the skater's grip to whirl her other leg around and strike the skater in the back of her head. There was a sudden sharp *crack* as the skater's helmet cracked and broke, falling in pieces from the skater's head. The skater skidded to the ground, unconscious.

The second skater came at Jezz from the opposite direction, swinging her spiked gauntlet at Jezz's head. Jezz dropped low and her foot shot out, striking the skater in the knee. The skater groaned and shifted her weight to her opposite foot. Still low, Jezz whirled and struck the back of the other skate with her heel, sweeping the skater's feet from under her. Jezz put her to sleep a moment later.

Jezz got back to her feet. The last two remaining skaters from the Isotope's Team Kobayashi Maru faced her from the other side of the dance floor. Both had acquired baseball bats and both appeared determined to take Jezz down.

The two skaters began striking the wooden dance floor with their bats, setting up a slow cadence. They started striking the floor faster, picking up the cadence until it was a rapid staccato. Then, with simultaneous screams, they lifted their bats and skated toward Jezz at full speed.

Jezz stood motionless as the two skaters approached her, bats raised. And then, as they arrived at Jezz's position, they swung concurrently, one skater swinging high, the other low.

And yet neither blow struck home. In a seemingly physics-defying move, Jezz leaped and spun on the axis of her waist, appearing to hover in mid-air as she twirled under the swinging bat of one skater and over the swinging bat of the other skater.

Both skaters pulled up and stopped, staring incredulously. Then they launched themselves once again.

There were no fancy acrobatics this time. Jezz met them and began a rapid move-counter-blow-counter exchange with the bat-wielding roller derby assassins. Several seconds of intense back-and-forth action took place as Jezz blocked and redirected the non-stop attempts with the bats. Then Jezz ducked under a swing and drove an elbow into the stomach of one skater while snatching the bat from her hands in the same move. With the bat now in her hand, Jezz blocked a swing from the skater, then twirled and struck the same skater in the leg with the bat. The skater dropped, clutching her injured knee. A chop to the neck took out the remaining skater.

Jezz turned to the DJ booth.

Doc Hatter said, "How 'bout that show, folks? Groovy, baby! Let's give the young lady a hand!"

Jezz noted the DJ's prattle, while still upbeat and nonsensical, was starting to sound forced. She turned and spoke to Edge.

"I'm going in, Edge," she said. "Keep those derby chicks off my back."

Edge, however, was already crossing the floor to where the roller derby ladies were lying down in various states of injury or unconsciousness.

Jezz sighed. When Edge moved like that, it meant there was a good chance one or more of the roller derby girls was going to wake up tomorrow with more than just a headache. Morning sickness was a strong possibility.

Jezz turned back for the DJ booth. Suddenly an old tune sounded, echoing through the otherwise quiet discothèque. Jezz paused, trying to place it. Then she got it.

It was the tune to the 70s show, "Charlie's Angels".

Whatever. It was time to take down DJ Doc Hatter.

Jezz heard the sound of frantic roller skating behind her, but it sounded like someone attempting to get away, not attack, so Jezz ignored it. Jezz took a quick run at the front of the raised DJ booth, then leaped forward and took what appeared to be several steps up the front of the booth. As she reached the peak of her momentum, her hands flashed up and she caught the top of the glass. She then hoisted herself up and over the glass in the same move, landing softly on her feet inside the booth.

The "booth" proved to be far more than a tiny cubicle. It was actually more of a room. The part that was the booth was just an exterior balcony jutting out over the dance floor.

Doc Hatter had backed into the room, but Jezz could see him clearly now. He was tall and gangly, dressed in a glittery, ill-fitting suit of garish blues and greens. The tall top hat remained perched on his head.

Behind him, against the far wall, what appeared to be a steel box sat on a table, perhaps 3' x 3'. On the front of the box was what appeared to be a clunky analog dial. It looked similar to a clock face, but it had only one arm and had years in place of the numbers 1-12. 1910 appeared where the number 1 would typically sit. 1930, 1960 and 1990 held the 3, 6 and 9 positions, with the other decades fitting in chronologically. At the top where the number 12 would typically sit, the word "PRESENT" stood.

The large arrow was pointing equidistant between 1970 and 1980.

Jezz was pretty sure she had found the machine that was causing all the trouble. But standing between Jezz and the device was Doc Hatter and standing between Jezz and Doc Hatter was a trio of women positioned together in various aggressive combat poses.

"Aren't they adorable?" said Doc Hatter, indicating the three women in front of him with a nod of his top hat. His voice sounded different when not being filtered through the club sound system. "I call them 'Hatter's Angels'."

"Very clever," said Jezz. "Those are the original agents sent in, I take it."

"Yes," said Doc Hatter. "I should have just had them keep reporting in that everything was fine. I knew better by the time the second pair got here, of course, but I suppose it was already too late."

"Yep," said Jezz. "You got greedy."

"True," said Doc Hatter. "Ah, well. *Kling akhlami buhfic*, I suppose."

"Exactly," said Jezz. "Wait...what?"

"*Kling akhlami buhfic*," said Doc Hatter. "Vulcan for 'nobody's perfect'. Please don't tell me you've never seen "The Wrath of Khan"."

Jezz shrugged.

Doc Hatter sighed. "Well, in that case, you deserve everything that's about to happen to you."

"Ah," said Jezz. "Hostility."

Doc Hatter nodded. "Yep," he said. "I'd say don't take it personal, but I'd be lying, 'cuz it's personal."

Jezz nodded her head at the steel box behind Doc Hatter. "I take it that's what's making everybody act like members of an evil disco hive?"

Doc Hatter chortled. "It is indeed," he said. "All I have to do is set the dial to the general era I want and it sends out those specific waves. Turning the dial is like changing the frequency on a short wave radio. This is just a rough prototype, of course. Very little range. My next model will be digital. After that, who knows? It might be time to go satellite radio!"

Jezz sighed. "You're a loony."

"Wow," said Doc Hatter. "That's very original. I've never heard that one before."

Jezz grunted. "Sorry. I'll work on my pre-fight bad guy banter."

"You do that," said Doc Hatter. "But if you don't mind, one question before my girls here get to work taking you down. How the hell are you resisting my control? This close to the device, this range, you should be dancing like an extra on Saturday Night Fever."

Jezz shrugged. "Mental discipline on a level you couldn't comprehend without the right training. Makes me immune to mechanical forms of mind-control. Or highly resistant, anyway. Besides that, my sensei and I are practically a '70s trope ourselves. Maybe you would've had better luck with a different era."

Doc Hatter looked at a number of monitors sitting near his device. Then he did a double-take. "Okay, one more question I have to ask. What...what is your sensei doing to my roller derby team...?"

Jezz glanced at the monitors and saw what Doc Hatter saw. She sighed and shook her head.

"Well...it's sort of a ritual for him...you know, to the victor goes the spoils..."

"*All four of them?!*"

"Don't be misled by his age. He has a lot of stamina. And he produces a lot of potent--"

Doc Hatter held up his hand. "I got it. Are you telling me he's trying to impregnate my entire Team Kobayashi Maru?"

Jezz looked at the monitor. "I think he's past the 'trying' stage and well into the 'succeeded' stage."

Doc Hatter growled in frustration. "Your sensei's a dick."

Jezz nodded. "Yep," she said. "Anyway, enough chat. I need to get to work breaking your toy."

Doc Hatter smiled, although it was a caricature of his earlier smile. "Allow me one small contribution to your efforts," said the DJ. He pressed a button on his watch and the Charlies' Angels theme faded. A moment later a new song started. The singer opened with a slow 'Oh-oh-oh-oh-ohhhhhh...' And then the song started:

*Everybody was kung-fu fighting!*

Jezz rolled her eyes. "Seriously?"

The DJ cackled. "Show some respect. The Carl Douglas song 'Kung Fu Fighting' is a classic!"

"You are so going down."

"Good luck with that," said Doc Hatter. "Angels...attack!"

The three angels yelled, "Hah!" and ran toward Jezz.

Jezz dashed toward them as well. As they all came together, all three angels leaped into perfectly matched arched flying kicks. Just as all three kicks were about to land on Jezz, she leaped into the air and performed a summersault over the three angels, landing on her feet as the angels sailed past her.

The only thing between her and Doc Hatter's device now was Doc Hatter himself. Jezz ran directly at him.

Doc Hatter's eyes widened and he scrambled to escape from Jezz.

Jezz's attack had been a feint, however. Her actual target was the device. As she ran to the device, she realized it was surrounded by a clear material that looked like glass or clear plastic.