Alternate Vertigo 2

Dreamwave couldn’t wait to get out of her costume. Three missions in a row, without a chance to shower.

Walking down Coleman Street, struggling with a pile of documents, she turned a few heads – but most of the locals were used to her and the others by now.

She reached the door to number 85, and scowled at the smell of damp from within. Struggling to hold her papers in one hand, she found her keys and unlocked it.

“I’m back,” she called, dumping the papers on the floor, next to an unopened Yellow Pages.

The house was a state. No carpets, a temperamental boiler, and a hole in the floor of the bathroom. But still, it was a base of operations – the first official headquarters of Alternate Vertigo.

In the living room, all of the furniture that came with the house had been pushed to one side, to make room for a large desk, covered in mountains of paperwork. Behind the desk, Insight was on the phone.

“Look, we really need those forms processed as soon as you can,” she was saying. “We’re depending on that grant. We could lose the house if it doesn’t go through and – look, I’ll call you back.”

Putting the phone down, Insight sighed deeply. She stood up.

“Claire. Thank God you’re back. Worst day ever.”

She clambered over the desk and hugged Dreamwave tightly.

“Is Eric back yet?”

“Upstairs in the shower. Got there before I got a chance, the bastard.” She ran a hand through her short brown hair. “I haven’t felt clean since we moved here, you know.”

“We’ll get there,” Dreamwave reassured. “It’s already looking better than it did. Thanks to you.”

“You’re right. I’m brilliant.”

“Anyway, important stuff!” Dreamwave announced, skipping back into the hall to collect a few papers. “We didn’t manage to stop Latent –“

“Who was Latent again?”

“Illusionist – the one with the warehouse full of documents?”

“Right.”

Dreamwave showed her the first of the papers.

“We managed to salvage some of them.” She flicked through the pages. “This one’s really dodgy.”

Insight’s eyes widened as she saw the information within.

“That’s not right. How did she get this?”

“No idea,” said Dreamwave, biting her lip. “This is really toxic stuff. I’m not sure if it’s all accurate –“

“We can check that.” Insight took the folder.

Trapeze walked in, a towel around his waist.

“Shower’s free,” he chirped.

“No time for that,” said Insight. “The woman in the warehouse had a document full of information on Wraith of the Scribblers.”

“You’re joking!”

Insight passed him the folder as she searched a plain black book for a phone number.

“She had a few pages on Chronal too,” said Dreamwave. “She might have escaped with more. Not much on the other Scribblers, except one thing.”

She took a sheet of paper from her selection.

“This one’s about Amity. No details, no information at all, except for one snippet. Her real name.”

Insight nearly dropped her book.

“No!”

Trapeze looked horrified.

“We’ve got to assume, then, that she knows everything. Her real name means she could get to her family, her educational history. Maybe she could use that to find out the rest of the Scribblers’ identities.”

“That’s assuming she doesn’t already know,” muttered Insight. She was dialling a number.

Then she stopped.

“Six seconds, front door!”

Dreamwave jumped to the side to let Trapeze pass.

Six second later, the door opened, revealing an eight-foot man with blades attached to his colourful suit.

The man lashed at Trapeze, grazing his arm. Instantly, Trapeze jumped into the air. He bounced off the ceiling, kicking the man with all his strength.

“Left leg!” called Insight.

Trapeze landed, and punched the stranger’s left leg hard, just as it was about to kick out.

Dreamwave joined him, and soon, the stranger was fast asleep.

*

“Any chance of more warning next time?” asked Trapeze.

“I’m working on it,” said Insight.

“It’s just that it’d be really handy if you could tell us stuff a day in advance.”

They were standing in the spare room. The giant stranger was sleeping on the bed, Dreamwave kneeling at his side.

“Okay,” she said. “I can see things. Just normal dream stuff, though. He’s sitting an exam. Naked.”

Insight shuddered. “Can you guide him along?”

“Of course,” said Dreamwave. “Are we thinking Latent?”

“Must be,” said Trapeze. “No-one else would have a reason to assassinate us, right? No-one else really cares who we are.”

“That’s because we’re called Alternate Vertigo,” mumbled Insight.

“Hey!” protested Trapeze. “That’s a great name.”

“It’s the worst name ever,” said Insight. “As I said at the time.”

“This is because it doesn’t reflect your powers, isn’t it?” he replied. “Dreamwave creates alternate realities, I can fly – would you like it more if we were Alternate Vertigo Foresight?”

“Good God, no.”

“He’s responding,” Dreamwave cut in. “He definitely knows her. He ... I think he hates her. Or resents her.”

“Not a loyal henchman, then,” said Trapeze.

“Hired help, then?” said Insight. “Try working out how much money he’s got. If he’s living in squalor, maybe he accepted money from her.”

“I’ll have him drive home,” said Dreamwave. “See what it looks like when he gets there.” She paused. “Actually, no need. Judging by his car, he’s not exactly strapped for cash.”

“Yeah,” said Trapeze. “But how much can you tell from someone’s car?”

“It includes his shopping,” Dreamwave explained. “This man lives in luxury.”

“So either it’s blackmail,” reasoned Insight, “Or it’s money, and Latent is hideously rich.”

Dreamwave stood.

“So far, then. We’ve got a probably-rich supervillain with loads of extremely well-sourced secrets on the Scribblers. And she knows we’ve got her paperwork, and she knows where we live, and she either wants us dead, or she just wants her paper back. Anything I’ve missed?”

“She knew we were coming,” said Trapeze. “Whoever tipped us off, she found out about it. She was clearing out that building when we got there.”

Dreamwave was about to say something else, but she didn’t get the chance, because without warning, she vanished.