Mysteria #4
"Headgames" (Endgame)
by Robert Flynn

Victoria woke in her bed, still in costume, a large icepack resting on her forehead. She pulled herself carefully from the bed, her legs wobbly as she stood and stretched. Her muscles screamed in protest, and she winced at the sudden sharp pain coming from her already bruised ribs. All in all, she felt like a building had been dropped on her. A very large building. She glanced at the clock, four in the morning.

"Ahhh." The voice came from behind her in the doorway of her bedroom, "Good. I was just coming up to check on you. Are you feeling any better than last evening?"

"I've been better, Alfonse... how did I get home?" She stood and looked at herself in the full length mirror sitting beside her armoire: she was very bruised and feeling pretty bad but she had been better. "Oh, God... I ache all over." "She winced and turned, examining her back; it was puffy and black, and it hurt just to look at it.

"Mister Crowley brought you back." Alfonse smiled. "He seemed very concerned about you."

"Of course he was. If I had died, he'd be out a paycheck," Victoria said. "And then, what would he do?"

"It seemed like more than that, dear. He really did seem very worried about you."

"If you say so, Alfonse..." Victoria sighed and stepped into the bathroom. "But I find it really hard to believe that Crowley could be worried about anyone."

"Do you want breakfast?" The Butler called through the door.

"Yes, that would be great... hmm... poached eggs, toast, and bacon?" She asked.

"I'll see what I can do."

After a moment, she heard the bedroom door shut. She dragged herself slowly and haltingly into a nice hot shower before getting dressed in a more comfortable pair of pajamas. She was unsurprised to find a small cart waiting beside her bed with two poached eggs, three pieces of toast, and a side of bacon.

"Thank you, Alfonse!" she called before sitting down to her breakfast. She picked up the TV remote from her beside table and turned on the TV.

'...Burke Financial is believed to be closing its doors as well, David... As you can guess, this has caused the company's stock to take a sharp dip, and let's just say that the board of directors does not seem to have much confidence in Victoria Burke. In fact, insiders at the company say that her attendance has been only erratic and that many people within the company place the blame for their failings as a corporation solely on her. There has even been talk that she is deliberately running the company aground...'

"Absolute rot," Victoria said, taking a bite of bacon. "A hundred percent rubbish."

'...perhaps even going so far as to arrange a sale to either American or Japanese investors. These have spurred some interesting results, though, as several different media conglomerates have begun putting out serious offers. According to insiders, despite the fact that their chairman Steve Case recently stepped down, AOL-Time Warner has put in a bid almost twice as expensive as what they spent buying out Ted Turner. But, I'd like to note again that this is purely hearsay and Ms. Burke has been unattainable when it comes to getting a statement about these rumors.'

"That's because I refuse to comment on such trite and flat out idiotic BS," Victoria grumbled.

"You know, they say talking back to the television is a sign of insanity," Jackson Crowley said, stepping out of the shadows in the corner of bedroom. "Not that dressing in a cloak and a swim suit to chase down costumed super-villains is very stable either."

"Crowley. I'm not in the mood for you. Go away. Find something else to do. Just get the Hell out of my bedroom."

"No thanks. Believe it or not, I'm the bearer of good news," Crowley, said trying to flash her a charming smile.

She looked at him coldly, but he just kept smiling. Finally, she shot back, "I shudder to think of what you'd consider to be good news."

Crowley glanced at the financial report on the TV. "You know, subconsciously, you are doing it all on purpose. It's your way of rebelling against never having any say towards what YOU wanted to do with your life. Even your clothing company was just a suggestion by your father before he passed on -- something to get you started in the so called 'right direction'. The constant jumping from job to job... Squandering just a bit more of your inheritance to found this company or that..."

Crowley turned off the television. "You couldn't care less, could you? I mean, before the last few months, you were credited as one of the most cunning corporate sharks in the water... The only thing you seem to actually take an interest in anymore is KGPC. You're trying to kill off all the excess fat and just leave yourself with the little bits of the Burke Empire you enjoy running. Whether you realize it or not."

"Are you here to critique my business dealings or to tell me whatever you have to tell me?" Victoria asked, taking a bite of her eggs. She had decided that she was not going to allow Crowley the satisfaction of ruining her day.

"You just can't face up to it. You hate the man for what he did to you..."

"Crowley, tell me whatever you came to tell me and go."

"Just thought you might like to know that the Flock was all rounded up by the cops," Crowley said, taking a seat on the edge of her bed.

"And?" Victoria asked, slightly irritated.

"My God, you are beautiful when you get impatient... You have this wrinkle that stands out on your forehead, and your eyes get this shine..."

"I do not have wrinkles!" Victoria shouted, a large hunk of egg flying from her mouth as she glared at him. "Get the Hell out of my bedroom, Jackson Crowley, or, so help me God, I'll rip you limb from limb!"

"Such spunk. I love that in a beautiful young lady such as yourself. You really should reconsider... I'm a very limber man, and I can make you see God."

"Crowley!" she bellowed.

"All right, look really I just... I wanted to check up on you. You looked really messed up yesterday. I wanted to make sure you were okay," Cowley said, the mirth dropping as his voice took a sincere turn. "I didn't expect it, but you are your own person -- not your mother and sure as Hell not your father, and I find that I'm a bit... fond of you."

"Drop it, Crowley," Victoria said crossly, not even looking up from her plate. "I don't buy it. Someone as egotistical and self centered as yourself never just 'begins to care'. Now, if you don't mind, I need to finish eating and get to work I do have, as you put it, an 'Empire' to run."

"All right then. Just watch yourself, Vicky. There some bad mojo in the air, and I'm not sure exactly what's going to happen." Crowley paused for a moment as he rose and strided towards her bedroom door. "It smells of death. Hell, every thing associated with you reeks of it. Be careful, Victoria Burke, because things are only going to get worse this year."

Hungrily tearing into her bacon as he silently shut the door to her bedroom and descended the stairs, she ignored him.

"Death. Ha." She turned the television back on.

'...and there is still no word on the whereabouts of Eric Simmonson, 31. Simmonson, a personal assistant to Pacific City's resident mogul Victoria Burke, disappeared late last month. No clues have turned up, and the police claim to have no reason to suspect foul play.'

Eric. Victoria had forgotten all about him, the nosy American. Nothing like Neil Ashwood. Ashwood was dependable... sturdy. He had been with her for a long time, where as Eric had only come on board a month before Henry Burke's death. Apparently, her father had thought highly of the young man, and, for some reason, he had jumped Eric immediately up to being his personal assistant, a position that Victoria had simply just not gotten around to changing. There were certainly more qualified individuals, and just about anyone would have been easier to get along with, but, still, she hoped that he had just gotten bored with Pacific City and run home. She may not have cared for him, but she truly wished nothing bad had befallen him.

* * *

"Neil."

The man looked up smiling slightly. "Ms. Burke. Good to see you back." He had had his doubts about her sickness, but, seeing her now, he had none. The woman looked like Hell. "I hope you are feeling better."

"Slightly. But, I'm good enough to do some serious work," she said. "What do we have going on? I know my agenda for the day. Don't worry I got the fax. Thank you. But, things seem to be piling up, so I'm sure that there must be something else."

"Well..."He paused for a moment, reading various memos posted on his desk. "A Mr. Crowley was trying to reach you yesterday. He called like...seventeen times, and the press has been pestering us for some sort of statement."

"They won't get one." Victoria huffed. "Everyone has been accusing me of deliberately trying to ruin my companies. Can you believe that? My father's legacy is not something I take lightly, and I'll be damned if I'll let some self-important stock broker try to claim otherwise."

"I know, Ms. Burke; you're doing the best you can."

"No. No, Neil, I haven't been, but I will be from now on. I'll prove that bastard wrong." With that, Victoria turned and stormed into her office.

"Well, at least she's in a better mood than usual." Neil sighed as he went back to work.

Victoria opened the door to her office and added matter-of-factly, "Oh, and Neil? Get the board on the line. We need to have a serious discussion about the meaning of the words 'Non-Disclosure Agreement.' I won't have loose talk ruining my business. Oh, and one more thing: take a long lunch today; you need a break. In fact, Hell, the company will pick up the tab."

* * *

"Furthermore," Victoria said loudly and sharply over the chatter coming from the speaker phone. "Anyone who is proven to be discussing inter-company matters with the press will be terminated. Immediately." She sighed, her frustration over the last few working days finally finding a vent. "You want to blame me for the recent decrease in stock, and, yes, part of it is my fault, but if you hadn't been running your mouths, then we wouldn't have nearly the problem we do. Keep your mouths shut, and I'll do my damndest to bring our stock prices back up to the top... Understood?"

Slowly, the voices babbled their agreement.

"Good. But, just remember: I'm being serious about terminating you if you screw up again. I'm still in charge here, like it or not. And, that's why, as of this morning, Burke Enterprises has been on something of a shopping spree starting with Lansing Technologies."

The voices coming from the speaker phone began a series of suprised and baffled objections.

"Gentleman, ladies, please. I know full well what I'm doing on this matter. I'll only tell you that our company has just inherited some rather... lucrative, exclusive contracts. These contracts alone are going to bring us quite a bit of money." Victoria said, smiling slightly as she listened to the board members' objections. She took a sip of her coffee. "It may look like a bad decision, but, believe me, if you review the last years worth of Lansing Technologies financial records and consider their track record AND past 'exclusive' contracts, you'll see that it is one of the shrewdest moves we could have made."

With that, she cut the speakerphone off, stood up, and stretched herself, trying to work out the soreness of her back.

* * *

Meanwhile, at a small bar just outside of the city...

It was a big American motorbike -- the man in the doorway was pretty sure it was a Harley Davidson. Its engine howled, its sound easilly overriding the sounds of traffic and Pacific City's hustle and bustle. The rider was wearing all black leather, including his duster, and a black reflective helmet covered his face. He whipped the bike to a stop, put the kickstand in place, and, then, rose, his body seemingly unfolding as he dismounted the Harley.

He was huge, easily the tallest man to have shoved his way though the door, but thin... almost as if there was no muscle to him. Everyone turned and looked; then, he spoke, his voice hollow and raspy like the wind on autumn leaves.

"I am looking for someone," he said, his tone cold and uninflected. "Perhaps you can help me find him."

In the corner, someone began coughing uncontrollably.

The biker slowly unclasped his helmet and pulled it from his head. He was pale and bald. His eyes were shrunken husks in darkly shadowed sockets, and, as he began to smile, it became obvious that his gums were black and dead. The skin of his face stretched so thinly that those observing him feared it might rip.

"His name is Jack Crowley. And, this rat hole is just the kind of place where I'd expect to find him."

The big man slowly approached the bar and reached across to grab the bartender. "So, start talking. I'm sure there are a hundred bars like this in this town, but I don't have the patience to search them all." The man drew the bartender up to where they were eye to eye. "Believe me, you don't want to see my patience run out."

Someone began to vomit.

* * *

The five men walked into the private dining room, slamming the door behind them. They varied in age from 37 to 68, and they had two things in common. They all hated Victoria Burke, and they were all on the board at Burke Industries.

"That bitch!" the youngest of the five snarled, slamming his fist down.

"Calm down, Stevens; there isn't much that we can do about it. We failed."

"You failed, Daggon! What happened to that hotshot plan of yours? You said you had something up your sleeve. You promised us that Burke was going to disappear. But, you didn't come through!" Stevens yelled. "So, you don't have any right to boss me around."

Daggon frowned. Stevens was right; this whole thing had been his idea. It had been stuck in his head ever since that night three months ago when he had been reviewing footage of Mrs. Burke's office. It was a camera she didn't know existed, situated in a heating vent for the sole purpose of catching the little princess doing something - anything - they could use as blackmail.

They wanted to force her out and gain control. But, as the young woman in the black cloak climbed through the window and accessed Burke's computer, he realized it wouldn't be as easy as that. At first, he thought that maybe Burke had some sort of alliance with Mysteria... Then, it came to him. She was Mysteria, and that changed the game entirely.

What would have stopped her from slinking invisibly into their homes and slitting their throats if they threatened her? No, it had definitely been the right idea to keep this little secret to himself. It gave him time to think, time to plan... and if only Nightingale and her bitches had been more careful, he'd have won!

But, there was always tomorrow. Daggon started smiling and patted Stevenson on the back.

"Let her have her victory, boy. We'll get rid of her. It will just take a bit longer."