The Truth at the Wax Museum, 3/4
Title: The Truth at the Wax Museum, part three
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,093
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: See first half.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Barry moved through the passageway as fast as he dared while still being quiet. He had left McKinley bound and gagged in a closet after the man had revealed all that he intended to. Barry could still scarcely believe the contents.
They had been manipulated all along the way as part of the plan against them that had been set forth by McKinley's employer. Even the ditch had not been a coincidence; it had been dug by McKinley on purpose. He had been hoping to force them to fall in so that he could bring them to the wax museum for the night.
The wax figure of Elliott had been crafted in advance, with the bump being added after their arrival. But when Barry had tried to ask where Elliott was now, and what had happened to Scott, all McKinley would tell him was that the Dying Informant was dead. In disgust and revulsion Barry had left him behind to continue the search for his friends.
If all of that was not wretched enough, McKinley himself had only been in on the plot for money; he had nothing against any of them. And Barry was infuriated that money had been placed above their lives.
At least he had learned of all the exits and where they led. He had made McKinley draw him a map. And right now he should be coming close to a secret panel leading out.
What would he find when he left? He would not have trusted McKinley's words alone, but considering the conversation he had overheard it did sound like Scott was dead. And he could not stand to think of it. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they thought they had killed him but he would revive.
He stepped forward, reaching out to press on the wall and slide the panel open, but he stopped. Someone was on the other side. He could hear them moving around right near the wall. Were they coming in? He backed around the corner, pressing himself against the wall as he peered around to watch.
It was her.
Barry clenched a fist, watching as the cruel woman slipped inside and shut the panel after her. How had she escaped from the mental hospital in the first place? He had not even heard anything about the breakout. He faded deeper into the shadows, pressing himself against the wall.
"I know you're in here." Her voice was cold, matter-of-fact. "It doesn't matter what you try to do to stop me; I am always ahead of you." She walked further into the tunnel, her high heels clicking on the stones.
"Your friends are being eliminated one by one. The Dying Informant was smothered and is still being carried by his grief-stricken closest friend. Your fearless leader plunged into a vat of hot wax. Now he is little more than a new addition to McKinley's collection."
Barry paled. No . . . that could not be true! Sean could not be . . . ! And . . . if Elliott was the only one left . . . and he had watched the others die . . . what state was he in now? He must be thoroughly shattered, especially since it had been his disappearance that had prompted the others to leave their rooms and wander through the manor.
"I suppose I could exterminate your one remaining companion, but at this point it would be more of a mercy killing. When you find him, you will discover that he is merely a shadow of his former self. That will be far more effective than if you were to discover him laying dead."
Barry could not stand it any longer. Of course he was playing right into her hands by coming out, but he could not listen to this for another second. He stepped around the corner, seizing her wrists as she started in surprise. If she could see his face, she would find the fury and outrage burning in his eyes.
"Why have you been doing this?" he boomed. "What did they ever do to you?"
She briefly tried to pull free, but then stopped. She would let him think he was winning. "Can't you figure it out, Barry?" she said. "Don't you know, deep down?"
By now he had lost control of himself. Without thinking, he gave her a rough shake. "I've had enough of your games!" he cried. "I'll see that you never go free. You will get exactly what you deserve!"
"And you will deliver it, won't you?" A bit of sadistic excitement crept into her voice, eerily disembodied by the darkness all around them. "You will render justice by your own hands."
He kept a firm hold on her wrists. "I won't kill you," he said, his voice lowering in a dangerous manner.
"Won't you?" She sounded certain of herself. "You haven't seen your friends yet. Once you do, the urge to see me die will rise. You will want to accomplish it yourself. Nothing else will be good enough."
His eyes flashed in horror and disbelief. She was doing this because of him! In the past she had wanted to turn him into a thief while under a powerful drug. Now she wanted to mould him into a murderer by manipulating his emotions and his very sanity.
He thrust her from him, sickened by the realization. He would have no part of it! He would find his friends, dead or alive, and they would get out of this infernal pit. And this witch would be returned to the mental institution, where she belonged.
She stumbled, then steadied herself. "You feel it, don't you?" she said. "The murderous anger burning in your veins. The Dying Informant is dead. Your leader is a statue. The other one's soul has been shattered into thousands of pieces."
Barry struck her across the face. "Don't tempt me," he growled, grabbing hold of her wrist again and snapping on the handcuff.
But as he reached for the other wrist, the sound of several drops of fluid being expelled from a needle caught his attention. She was going to inject him with something, just as she had done so many times in the past. Maybe this one was a drug that would try to make him lash out in rage. He could not let himself be used that way!
He caught hold of her wrist, forcing it away from him. She fought back, struggling to lower it and jab the sharp point of the needle into his shoulder. He shoved her back against the wall. Was she against the panel? Would it open and allow them both to fall out?
For once luck was on his side. The wall slid open, sending the mad scientist tumbling backward to the floor with a cry. The needle bounced out of her hand, spinning across the tiles of the Dark Ages exhibit. But in the split-second before Barry could get over to her and attach the other handcuff, she had sprang to her feet and was vanishing around another corner.
The big man gritted his teeth. He was not letting her get away that easily!
He picked up the needle and wrapped it in a handkerchief before chasing after her. He would keep it as evidence. There was no sense in leaving it around for someone to get hold of and try to use. With her involved, she had likely brought henchmen to assist her. She would never leave this up to McKinley alone.
Sure enough, as he ran around the corner, she was nowhere in sight. Six strong thugs, similar to his own build, greeted him with cold glares and raised fists. He glared back. If it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight they would get.
The thug in the lead lunged at him, the fist aimed right at his face. He dodged, delivering a harsh punch to the brute's jaw.
The other five charged all at once. Barry kicked, hit, and dove, but he could not escape every attack. One blow sent him stumbling back into a wax figure of Cesare Borgia. He recovered quickly, but several moments later a swift kick launched him into an exhibit of a witch being burned at the stake. He retaliated by knocking the second-in-command into the first of several wax dummies, and the thug yelled and cursed as he tumbled to the floor with the entire row of angry judges.
But it seemed like Barry was not actually getting anywhere. Every time he kicked one out of the way, three, four, or even all of the other five attacked at once. There were too many for just one person to handle.
Suddenly the fourth thug sailed across the room without Barry doing a thing. He whirled, following the source of the flight. His eyes widened in shock. Sean was standing there, his fedora lopsided, his tie flung over his shoulder, his clothes a rumpled mess. But he was not sporting the least bit of wax. He was alive.
"Sean . . . !" Barry exclaimed.
"We've got some catching up to do," Sean mused as another creep lunged at him. "Beat up these guys first, talk later?"
Barry nodded, inwardly amused. Even in the face of all this trouble, Sean was Sean.
Two against six were not good odds, either-but they managed. Barry had worn the gang out more than he had realized. He and Sean were able to make short work of the bunch, leaving them in varying states of semi-consciousness at the conclusion. After snapping handcuffs on all of them, the two detectives left the room and closed the door. Sean pushed a chair in front of it.
"Well, that's that," he sighed. Now that the adrenaline rush had passed, he was exhausted. From his eyes and voice, it was obvious it was not just physical.
He looked to Barry as he pushed his hat into a better-aligned position. Now the dominant emotion in his eyes was turning to grief. "Barry . . . El's dead."
The color drained from Barry's face. "How?!" he demanded, forgetting to ask how Sean had avoided becoming part of an exhibit.
Sean clenched a fist. "I don't know," he said. "Scott and I found him laying in a coffin on the main floor. The murderer gave Sherlock Holmes a note that said 'The Dying Informant is now the Dead Informant.'"
Barry stared, for a moment not comprehending. But then he realized. "They thought Elliott was . . ."
Sean nodded. "I don't know how Scott's ever going to get over it," he said. "It took me a long time to snap him out of his state so we could go looking for you. And then I had to go fall through the floor. . . ." His tone turned bitter. "I hate to think what Scott's going through now, all alone back there. . . ."
"What happened to you?" Barry wanted to know, still stunned and grief-stricken over the news about Elliott. "That woman . . . she said that you'd fallen into the vat of wax. . . ."
Sean swallowed hard. "I almost did," he admitted. "I just barely managed to swerve away and grab the ladder instead. And I must've knocked something off the top of it; I heard something splash into the vat. When I shook the stars away I tried to call to Scott, but he couldn't hear me. So I climbed down and started looking for the way back up. I was hoping I'd find you too, so at least something's gone right."
His expression turned to horror. "Wait, if Scott thinks I . . ."
"We have to find him right now," Barry said, urgency slipping into his voice. "Where were you when this happened?"
"I'll show you," Sean said, moving to walk back up the hall. "Come on."
Barry quickly followed.
****
Elliott dropped, shaking, to his knees as soon as Scott collapsed. He had been afraid of how Scott would react if something happened to the others, but neither of them had expected this at all. It had been too much for Scott's tortured mind.
He reached out, gripping the poor, overwhelmed blond's shoulder. "Scott!" he cried, praying for a reply.
Scott moaned in response. "No . . ." he cried. "No, Sean. . . ."
Elliott's heart was pierced. He gathered Scott's upper body into his arms, finally daring to look up at what was before them. The blank eyes still stared ahead, unseeing.
He had still not fully processed this horror. It could not be real. It was impossible! But . . . how could an ordinary wax figure be crafted in such detail and in such a short amount of time? It . . . it looked like Sean had fallen into the wax but had still been alive, and had managed to get out of the vat before being frozen in place. . . .
"Sean . . ." he whispered. "That . . . isn't you, is it? It . . . it can't be. . . ."
Scott stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he focused on Elliott above him. "El . . . ?" His voice was weak, tormented.
Fury rushed through Elliott's heart again. "Yeah," he said. "I'm here."
Scott pushed himself into a sitting position. "And Sean . . ."
Elliott shook his head. "That isn't Sean," he said, worriedly watching as Scott swayed. "Hey, take it easy," he said in concern. "Scott, you fainted!"
Scott looked to Elliott, running a hand into his blond bangs. "I . . . couldn't take it," he said. "Not after everything else. I couldn't. . . ."
"I know," Elliott said. "I know. . . ."
But Scott was struggling to get up. Elliott reached to help him, the worry still in his eyes. Scott laid a hand on Elliott's shoulder, balancing himself before walking over to be directly in front of the figure. He looked it up and down, still shaking. He was not sure what was the truth. Was it their friend? Could it be?
"Sean?"
He reached out, touching the stiff shoulder. The wax was cool. He could only stare dumbly, his mind blank.
"Scott!"
That was Sean's voice . . . coming from the direction opposite to the statue. . . . Scott turned, just in time to see Sean and Barry running out of the panel Scott and Elliott had come through moments earlier. His mind was still not working. Sean . . . Barry. . . .
"Sean! Barry!" Elliott exclaimed to his side. "You're alive!"
Sean focused on Elliott, shocked beyond belief. He ground to a halt, looking from Elliott to Scott and back again. How was it possible? How could it ever be possible? "El?!" he cried. "El . . . you . . ."
"I wasn't dead!" Elliott explained again. "I was given a drug. . . ."
Sean was already pulling both him and Scott into a hug at once. "A drug?!" he said in obvious indignation, while Barry looked torn between disbelief and outrage at the cruelty and immeasurable joy that Elliott was alive.
At last Scott snapped out of his dazed state. This was real. Sean was safe! And Barry looked alright too. Again he was overwhelmed. "Sean!" he exclaimed, returning the hug. "Sean, you're okay! You're not . . ."
"A statue?" Sean supplied as he pulled back. "Of course not!"
Scott was confused, despite his joy. "I heard something splash . . ."
"I knocked something into the vat when I grabbed onto the ladder," Sean said. Then he blinked. "Hey, you don't think the unctuous creeps behind this think I'm dead, do you?"
Barry frowned. "I don't know," he said. "The one behind everything is her. . . . The mad scientist. . . ."
A hush fell over the group. "Her?!" Elliott cried, his tone flecked with loathing.
"Of course!" Scott gasped. "She must have made the drug!"
"If she really thinks I'm dead, maybe we can use it to our advantage," Sean mused. "Listen! I'm getting a plan."
"This plan wouldn't have anything to do with playing ghost and trying to scare her, would it?" Barry deadpanned.
Sean smirked. "It couldn't hurt to try," he said. "Maybe it would catch her off-guard, at least."
"Let's try it," Barry said. "But first we'll have to find her."
Elliott looked to him. "Do you know why she's doing this?" he asked.
Barry nodded, his usually impassive expression dark. "She wants to get at me," he said. "She's hoping I'll crack and want to kill her."
"What?!" Scott burst out. "All of this . . . all of these horrible things . . . to make you lose your mind?!"
Another nod. "She acted like she was pleased that you were so devastated too," Barry said, bitter.
"When did you talk to her?" Sean frowned, crossing his arms.
"Right before I got into that fight with her henchmen," Barry sighed. Quickly he relayed the whole story, while the others listened in shock.
"I think she's even more sick than I realized," Sean said at the conclusion.
"If she's hoping to draw you out, is she waiting for you somewhere in the house?" Elliott wondered.
"I think so," Barry said. "Probably up in one of our rooms."
Sean nodded. "Then let's go," he said. "You go first, Barry, and we'll back you up." He smirked. "I've never played an avenging spirit before. Maybe it'll be fun."
Elliott chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at the same time. Only Sean could find the presence of mind to joke right now, since they had all found each other alive and well. But at the same time, thinking of everything that had happened to them made him feel uneasy at Sean's joke.
Barry headed for the stairs, the others following right behind. The wax figures were still gathered around the coffins on the main floor, their positions unchanged. Scott shuddered, not looking in their direction as they climbed the stairs to the second story. All seemed eerily quiet. They exchanged concerned looks as they ascended to the third level. The wicked woman likely had more henchmen. Where were they? And was she where Barry suspected?
He slowed his pace, going towards the room he shared with Sean. As he pushed open the door, the mad scientist smirked at him from where she was standing near the window. Somehow she had managed to undo the one handcuff Barry had snapped on her, as it was no longer dangling from her wrist.
"Barry," she said, walking towards him, "it's so good to see you."
"I'm sorry I can't say the same," Barry said, his voice cold. "I found my friends. You played a cruel trick with that drug."
"But very effective." She looked to Scott and Elliott, who were following Barry inside. "It's unfortunate your leader won't be joining you," she said.
Scott glowered at her. He wanted to run across the room, grab her by the shoulders, and shake her while screaming and demanding to be told why she was treating them so abominably. But somehow he had to restrain himself. He could not let her see him lose control.
"That's where you're wrong." Sean came to the doorway, staring ahead with what he hoped was a blank look as he pointed to the wretched woman. "They found what was left of me. And I'm here to see that justice is done."
She stepped back, turning several shades of pale. "No," she said. "You can't be here. You were killed! You should be at the bottom of McKinley's vat!"
"You don't believe in ghosts?" Sean gave a dark smirk. "I'm not very fond of what you did to my friends, either. You can rest assured that you're going to pay for it."
Scott nodded. "And if you were trying to separate all of us, it didn't work," he added, his voice filled with ice. "Sean will be with us, just like always."
She took another step back. But while she had been distracted, Barry had slipped around to get behind her. Now he wrenched her arms behind her back, while she stiffened and cried out in protest.
"You're under arrest," Barry said. "Again."
Elliott gave a firm nod. "And this time you're not getting out," he vowed.
She gave them both a sour look. But it only grew more sour when Sean grinned and exchanged a high-five with Scott. "You're alive," she said low.
"A few inches over and you wouldn't have needed to use McKinley's wax figure," Sean said. "Who made that door open when I stepped on it?"
She just glared at him. He shrugged.
"Don't worry, we'll find out," he said. "We're taking all of your lackeys into custody too."
"It'll be morning soon," Scott said, "and we'll be sending for backup from ACME now that the storm's passing."
"While we wait, we could always take another tour of this place," Sean commented.
Barry gave him a deadpan look. "I'll pass," he said.
Scott and Elliott nodded agreement.
Sean was not bothered. After their experience, that had probably sounded out of place.
"Well," he elaborated, "you never know what clues might be stashed around here."
"We'll look later," Scott said. "We've already got more than enough to put them away." He shot the mad scientist another frozen look. But by now she was putting on an air of haughtiness as she glanced around the room.
Sean let the matter drop. Once their car was out of the ditch and they were resuming the drive home, he had the feeling that all of them would be having a long conversation. This had been one of the most terrifying, heart-wrenching cases in all their years of working for ACME.
It had been so horrible enough to think that Elliott had been killed and that Barry could be dead too. And then he had been seriously afraid for a while that he would also lose Scott, albeit not through a physical death. Scott had come very close to being permanently broken.
And Elliott, poor Elliott! Just by exchanging a brief glance, Sean could tell that Elliott was devastated over the anguish that had been brought to his friends when he had been thought dead. In addition to that, Elliott was sickened by how he and Scott had been afraid that Sean had been killed.
Barry, too. . . . He had encountered the woman who had brought so many horrors upon him in the past, the witch who had made him feel unworthy to be part of ACME because he had been stealing for her while under mind-control. He was still not completely over the wounds he had sustained from that experience. And to have to meet her again. . . .
"Sean?"
He came back to the present at Scott's voice. "Yeah?"
Scott laid his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "It's okay, Sean," he said. "All of us have really gone through the wringer here. You don't have to pretend you're not affected."
"I'm not pretending anything," Sean said, but Scott shook his head.
"You're trying to cheer us up with your smiles and jokes," Elliott said. "And . . . I don't know, maybe you're hoping you can cheer yourself up, too."
Sean looked away. "Maybe," he said in a noncommittal tone.
Of course they were right. Sean never had let his own pain over Elliott's "death" show. And he had the feeling it had affected him more deeply than he would like to admit. Sometimes he used his facade so well that he fooled himself, at least for short stretches of time. Right now, however, he knew what he was doing. When they had believed Barry was dead, Sean had not been able to be strong for Scott and Elliott. He had closed himself off from them, hurting them worse. Since then, he had vowed that if any other tragedies took place, he had to do the opposite. He had to be there for his friends no matter how badly he was hurting inside or how much he thought he could not help them.
". . . I hurt you guys tonight," he said at last, "when you thought I was dead. . . ."
"You couldn't help what happened, Sean!" Scott exclaimed, gripping his friend's arm. "Neither could you, El!" he quickly added, looking to the brunet.
"We were all being manipulated by her," Barry said, giving the mad scientist in his grasp another dark look. She did not acknowledge or return it.
"The lowest of the low," Sean said in disgust.
Scott nodded agreement. "So . . . please don't blame yourselves, guys," he begged, looking around at his friends again. "It's not your fault. Not at all!"
Elliott gave him a weak smile. He did not want to talk about it with that witch within earshot, but it was hard not to be angry with himself that he could not have avoided being injected.
"Hey," he said instead, "what happened to McKinley, anyway?"
"I stuffed him in a closet," Barry deadpanned.
Elliott had to snicker at the way Barry had said it. "Serves him right," he said.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 4,093
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: See first half.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Barry moved through the passageway as fast as he dared while still being quiet. He had left McKinley bound and gagged in a closet after the man had revealed all that he intended to. Barry could still scarcely believe the contents.
They had been manipulated all along the way as part of the plan against them that had been set forth by McKinley's employer. Even the ditch had not been a coincidence; it had been dug by McKinley on purpose. He had been hoping to force them to fall in so that he could bring them to the wax museum for the night.
The wax figure of Elliott had been crafted in advance, with the bump being added after their arrival. But when Barry had tried to ask where Elliott was now, and what had happened to Scott, all McKinley would tell him was that the Dying Informant was dead. In disgust and revulsion Barry had left him behind to continue the search for his friends.
If all of that was not wretched enough, McKinley himself had only been in on the plot for money; he had nothing against any of them. And Barry was infuriated that money had been placed above their lives.
At least he had learned of all the exits and where they led. He had made McKinley draw him a map. And right now he should be coming close to a secret panel leading out.
What would he find when he left? He would not have trusted McKinley's words alone, but considering the conversation he had overheard it did sound like Scott was dead. And he could not stand to think of it. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they thought they had killed him but he would revive.
He stepped forward, reaching out to press on the wall and slide the panel open, but he stopped. Someone was on the other side. He could hear them moving around right near the wall. Were they coming in? He backed around the corner, pressing himself against the wall as he peered around to watch.
It was her.
Barry clenched a fist, watching as the cruel woman slipped inside and shut the panel after her. How had she escaped from the mental hospital in the first place? He had not even heard anything about the breakout. He faded deeper into the shadows, pressing himself against the wall.
"I know you're in here." Her voice was cold, matter-of-fact. "It doesn't matter what you try to do to stop me; I am always ahead of you." She walked further into the tunnel, her high heels clicking on the stones.
"Your friends are being eliminated one by one. The Dying Informant was smothered and is still being carried by his grief-stricken closest friend. Your fearless leader plunged into a vat of hot wax. Now he is little more than a new addition to McKinley's collection."
Barry paled. No . . . that could not be true! Sean could not be . . . ! And . . . if Elliott was the only one left . . . and he had watched the others die . . . what state was he in now? He must be thoroughly shattered, especially since it had been his disappearance that had prompted the others to leave their rooms and wander through the manor.
"I suppose I could exterminate your one remaining companion, but at this point it would be more of a mercy killing. When you find him, you will discover that he is merely a shadow of his former self. That will be far more effective than if you were to discover him laying dead."
Barry could not stand it any longer. Of course he was playing right into her hands by coming out, but he could not listen to this for another second. He stepped around the corner, seizing her wrists as she started in surprise. If she could see his face, she would find the fury and outrage burning in his eyes.
"Why have you been doing this?" he boomed. "What did they ever do to you?"
She briefly tried to pull free, but then stopped. She would let him think he was winning. "Can't you figure it out, Barry?" she said. "Don't you know, deep down?"
By now he had lost control of himself. Without thinking, he gave her a rough shake. "I've had enough of your games!" he cried. "I'll see that you never go free. You will get exactly what you deserve!"
"And you will deliver it, won't you?" A bit of sadistic excitement crept into her voice, eerily disembodied by the darkness all around them. "You will render justice by your own hands."
He kept a firm hold on her wrists. "I won't kill you," he said, his voice lowering in a dangerous manner.
"Won't you?" She sounded certain of herself. "You haven't seen your friends yet. Once you do, the urge to see me die will rise. You will want to accomplish it yourself. Nothing else will be good enough."
His eyes flashed in horror and disbelief. She was doing this because of him! In the past she had wanted to turn him into a thief while under a powerful drug. Now she wanted to mould him into a murderer by manipulating his emotions and his very sanity.
He thrust her from him, sickened by the realization. He would have no part of it! He would find his friends, dead or alive, and they would get out of this infernal pit. And this witch would be returned to the mental institution, where she belonged.
She stumbled, then steadied herself. "You feel it, don't you?" she said. "The murderous anger burning in your veins. The Dying Informant is dead. Your leader is a statue. The other one's soul has been shattered into thousands of pieces."
Barry struck her across the face. "Don't tempt me," he growled, grabbing hold of her wrist again and snapping on the handcuff.
But as he reached for the other wrist, the sound of several drops of fluid being expelled from a needle caught his attention. She was going to inject him with something, just as she had done so many times in the past. Maybe this one was a drug that would try to make him lash out in rage. He could not let himself be used that way!
He caught hold of her wrist, forcing it away from him. She fought back, struggling to lower it and jab the sharp point of the needle into his shoulder. He shoved her back against the wall. Was she against the panel? Would it open and allow them both to fall out?
For once luck was on his side. The wall slid open, sending the mad scientist tumbling backward to the floor with a cry. The needle bounced out of her hand, spinning across the tiles of the Dark Ages exhibit. But in the split-second before Barry could get over to her and attach the other handcuff, she had sprang to her feet and was vanishing around another corner.
The big man gritted his teeth. He was not letting her get away that easily!
He picked up the needle and wrapped it in a handkerchief before chasing after her. He would keep it as evidence. There was no sense in leaving it around for someone to get hold of and try to use. With her involved, she had likely brought henchmen to assist her. She would never leave this up to McKinley alone.
Sure enough, as he ran around the corner, she was nowhere in sight. Six strong thugs, similar to his own build, greeted him with cold glares and raised fists. He glared back. If it was a fight they wanted, it was a fight they would get.
The thug in the lead lunged at him, the fist aimed right at his face. He dodged, delivering a harsh punch to the brute's jaw.
The other five charged all at once. Barry kicked, hit, and dove, but he could not escape every attack. One blow sent him stumbling back into a wax figure of Cesare Borgia. He recovered quickly, but several moments later a swift kick launched him into an exhibit of a witch being burned at the stake. He retaliated by knocking the second-in-command into the first of several wax dummies, and the thug yelled and cursed as he tumbled to the floor with the entire row of angry judges.
But it seemed like Barry was not actually getting anywhere. Every time he kicked one out of the way, three, four, or even all of the other five attacked at once. There were too many for just one person to handle.
Suddenly the fourth thug sailed across the room without Barry doing a thing. He whirled, following the source of the flight. His eyes widened in shock. Sean was standing there, his fedora lopsided, his tie flung over his shoulder, his clothes a rumpled mess. But he was not sporting the least bit of wax. He was alive.
"Sean . . . !" Barry exclaimed.
"We've got some catching up to do," Sean mused as another creep lunged at him. "Beat up these guys first, talk later?"
Barry nodded, inwardly amused. Even in the face of all this trouble, Sean was Sean.
Two against six were not good odds, either-but they managed. Barry had worn the gang out more than he had realized. He and Sean were able to make short work of the bunch, leaving them in varying states of semi-consciousness at the conclusion. After snapping handcuffs on all of them, the two detectives left the room and closed the door. Sean pushed a chair in front of it.
"Well, that's that," he sighed. Now that the adrenaline rush had passed, he was exhausted. From his eyes and voice, it was obvious it was not just physical.
He looked to Barry as he pushed his hat into a better-aligned position. Now the dominant emotion in his eyes was turning to grief. "Barry . . . El's dead."
The color drained from Barry's face. "How?!" he demanded, forgetting to ask how Sean had avoided becoming part of an exhibit.
Sean clenched a fist. "I don't know," he said. "Scott and I found him laying in a coffin on the main floor. The murderer gave Sherlock Holmes a note that said 'The Dying Informant is now the Dead Informant.'"
Barry stared, for a moment not comprehending. But then he realized. "They thought Elliott was . . ."
Sean nodded. "I don't know how Scott's ever going to get over it," he said. "It took me a long time to snap him out of his state so we could go looking for you. And then I had to go fall through the floor. . . ." His tone turned bitter. "I hate to think what Scott's going through now, all alone back there. . . ."
"What happened to you?" Barry wanted to know, still stunned and grief-stricken over the news about Elliott. "That woman . . . she said that you'd fallen into the vat of wax. . . ."
Sean swallowed hard. "I almost did," he admitted. "I just barely managed to swerve away and grab the ladder instead. And I must've knocked something off the top of it; I heard something splash into the vat. When I shook the stars away I tried to call to Scott, but he couldn't hear me. So I climbed down and started looking for the way back up. I was hoping I'd find you too, so at least something's gone right."
His expression turned to horror. "Wait, if Scott thinks I . . ."
"We have to find him right now," Barry said, urgency slipping into his voice. "Where were you when this happened?"
"I'll show you," Sean said, moving to walk back up the hall. "Come on."
Barry quickly followed.
****
Elliott dropped, shaking, to his knees as soon as Scott collapsed. He had been afraid of how Scott would react if something happened to the others, but neither of them had expected this at all. It had been too much for Scott's tortured mind.
He reached out, gripping the poor, overwhelmed blond's shoulder. "Scott!" he cried, praying for a reply.
Scott moaned in response. "No . . ." he cried. "No, Sean. . . ."
Elliott's heart was pierced. He gathered Scott's upper body into his arms, finally daring to look up at what was before them. The blank eyes still stared ahead, unseeing.
He had still not fully processed this horror. It could not be real. It was impossible! But . . . how could an ordinary wax figure be crafted in such detail and in such a short amount of time? It . . . it looked like Sean had fallen into the wax but had still been alive, and had managed to get out of the vat before being frozen in place. . . .
"Sean . . ." he whispered. "That . . . isn't you, is it? It . . . it can't be. . . ."
Scott stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he focused on Elliott above him. "El . . . ?" His voice was weak, tormented.
Fury rushed through Elliott's heart again. "Yeah," he said. "I'm here."
Scott pushed himself into a sitting position. "And Sean . . ."
Elliott shook his head. "That isn't Sean," he said, worriedly watching as Scott swayed. "Hey, take it easy," he said in concern. "Scott, you fainted!"
Scott looked to Elliott, running a hand into his blond bangs. "I . . . couldn't take it," he said. "Not after everything else. I couldn't. . . ."
"I know," Elliott said. "I know. . . ."
But Scott was struggling to get up. Elliott reached to help him, the worry still in his eyes. Scott laid a hand on Elliott's shoulder, balancing himself before walking over to be directly in front of the figure. He looked it up and down, still shaking. He was not sure what was the truth. Was it their friend? Could it be?
"Sean?"
He reached out, touching the stiff shoulder. The wax was cool. He could only stare dumbly, his mind blank.
"Scott!"
That was Sean's voice . . . coming from the direction opposite to the statue. . . . Scott turned, just in time to see Sean and Barry running out of the panel Scott and Elliott had come through moments earlier. His mind was still not working. Sean . . . Barry. . . .
"Sean! Barry!" Elliott exclaimed to his side. "You're alive!"
Sean focused on Elliott, shocked beyond belief. He ground to a halt, looking from Elliott to Scott and back again. How was it possible? How could it ever be possible? "El?!" he cried. "El . . . you . . ."
"I wasn't dead!" Elliott explained again. "I was given a drug. . . ."
Sean was already pulling both him and Scott into a hug at once. "A drug?!" he said in obvious indignation, while Barry looked torn between disbelief and outrage at the cruelty and immeasurable joy that Elliott was alive.
At last Scott snapped out of his dazed state. This was real. Sean was safe! And Barry looked alright too. Again he was overwhelmed. "Sean!" he exclaimed, returning the hug. "Sean, you're okay! You're not . . ."
"A statue?" Sean supplied as he pulled back. "Of course not!"
Scott was confused, despite his joy. "I heard something splash . . ."
"I knocked something into the vat when I grabbed onto the ladder," Sean said. Then he blinked. "Hey, you don't think the unctuous creeps behind this think I'm dead, do you?"
Barry frowned. "I don't know," he said. "The one behind everything is her. . . . The mad scientist. . . ."
A hush fell over the group. "Her?!" Elliott cried, his tone flecked with loathing.
"Of course!" Scott gasped. "She must have made the drug!"
"If she really thinks I'm dead, maybe we can use it to our advantage," Sean mused. "Listen! I'm getting a plan."
"This plan wouldn't have anything to do with playing ghost and trying to scare her, would it?" Barry deadpanned.
Sean smirked. "It couldn't hurt to try," he said. "Maybe it would catch her off-guard, at least."
"Let's try it," Barry said. "But first we'll have to find her."
Elliott looked to him. "Do you know why she's doing this?" he asked.
Barry nodded, his usually impassive expression dark. "She wants to get at me," he said. "She's hoping I'll crack and want to kill her."
"What?!" Scott burst out. "All of this . . . all of these horrible things . . . to make you lose your mind?!"
Another nod. "She acted like she was pleased that you were so devastated too," Barry said, bitter.
"When did you talk to her?" Sean frowned, crossing his arms.
"Right before I got into that fight with her henchmen," Barry sighed. Quickly he relayed the whole story, while the others listened in shock.
"I think she's even more sick than I realized," Sean said at the conclusion.
"If she's hoping to draw you out, is she waiting for you somewhere in the house?" Elliott wondered.
"I think so," Barry said. "Probably up in one of our rooms."
Sean nodded. "Then let's go," he said. "You go first, Barry, and we'll back you up." He smirked. "I've never played an avenging spirit before. Maybe it'll be fun."
Elliott chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at the same time. Only Sean could find the presence of mind to joke right now, since they had all found each other alive and well. But at the same time, thinking of everything that had happened to them made him feel uneasy at Sean's joke.
Barry headed for the stairs, the others following right behind. The wax figures were still gathered around the coffins on the main floor, their positions unchanged. Scott shuddered, not looking in their direction as they climbed the stairs to the second story. All seemed eerily quiet. They exchanged concerned looks as they ascended to the third level. The wicked woman likely had more henchmen. Where were they? And was she where Barry suspected?
He slowed his pace, going towards the room he shared with Sean. As he pushed open the door, the mad scientist smirked at him from where she was standing near the window. Somehow she had managed to undo the one handcuff Barry had snapped on her, as it was no longer dangling from her wrist.
"Barry," she said, walking towards him, "it's so good to see you."
"I'm sorry I can't say the same," Barry said, his voice cold. "I found my friends. You played a cruel trick with that drug."
"But very effective." She looked to Scott and Elliott, who were following Barry inside. "It's unfortunate your leader won't be joining you," she said.
Scott glowered at her. He wanted to run across the room, grab her by the shoulders, and shake her while screaming and demanding to be told why she was treating them so abominably. But somehow he had to restrain himself. He could not let her see him lose control.
"That's where you're wrong." Sean came to the doorway, staring ahead with what he hoped was a blank look as he pointed to the wretched woman. "They found what was left of me. And I'm here to see that justice is done."
She stepped back, turning several shades of pale. "No," she said. "You can't be here. You were killed! You should be at the bottom of McKinley's vat!"
"You don't believe in ghosts?" Sean gave a dark smirk. "I'm not very fond of what you did to my friends, either. You can rest assured that you're going to pay for it."
Scott nodded. "And if you were trying to separate all of us, it didn't work," he added, his voice filled with ice. "Sean will be with us, just like always."
She took another step back. But while she had been distracted, Barry had slipped around to get behind her. Now he wrenched her arms behind her back, while she stiffened and cried out in protest.
"You're under arrest," Barry said. "Again."
Elliott gave a firm nod. "And this time you're not getting out," he vowed.
She gave them both a sour look. But it only grew more sour when Sean grinned and exchanged a high-five with Scott. "You're alive," she said low.
"A few inches over and you wouldn't have needed to use McKinley's wax figure," Sean said. "Who made that door open when I stepped on it?"
She just glared at him. He shrugged.
"Don't worry, we'll find out," he said. "We're taking all of your lackeys into custody too."
"It'll be morning soon," Scott said, "and we'll be sending for backup from ACME now that the storm's passing."
"While we wait, we could always take another tour of this place," Sean commented.
Barry gave him a deadpan look. "I'll pass," he said.
Scott and Elliott nodded agreement.
Sean was not bothered. After their experience, that had probably sounded out of place.
"Well," he elaborated, "you never know what clues might be stashed around here."
"We'll look later," Scott said. "We've already got more than enough to put them away." He shot the mad scientist another frozen look. But by now she was putting on an air of haughtiness as she glanced around the room.
Sean let the matter drop. Once their car was out of the ditch and they were resuming the drive home, he had the feeling that all of them would be having a long conversation. This had been one of the most terrifying, heart-wrenching cases in all their years of working for ACME.
It had been so horrible enough to think that Elliott had been killed and that Barry could be dead too. And then he had been seriously afraid for a while that he would also lose Scott, albeit not through a physical death. Scott had come very close to being permanently broken.
And Elliott, poor Elliott! Just by exchanging a brief glance, Sean could tell that Elliott was devastated over the anguish that had been brought to his friends when he had been thought dead. In addition to that, Elliott was sickened by how he and Scott had been afraid that Sean had been killed.
Barry, too. . . . He had encountered the woman who had brought so many horrors upon him in the past, the witch who had made him feel unworthy to be part of ACME because he had been stealing for her while under mind-control. He was still not completely over the wounds he had sustained from that experience. And to have to meet her again. . . .
"Sean?"
He came back to the present at Scott's voice. "Yeah?"
Scott laid his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "It's okay, Sean," he said. "All of us have really gone through the wringer here. You don't have to pretend you're not affected."
"I'm not pretending anything," Sean said, but Scott shook his head.
"You're trying to cheer us up with your smiles and jokes," Elliott said. "And . . . I don't know, maybe you're hoping you can cheer yourself up, too."
Sean looked away. "Maybe," he said in a noncommittal tone.
Of course they were right. Sean never had let his own pain over Elliott's "death" show. And he had the feeling it had affected him more deeply than he would like to admit. Sometimes he used his facade so well that he fooled himself, at least for short stretches of time. Right now, however, he knew what he was doing. When they had believed Barry was dead, Sean had not been able to be strong for Scott and Elliott. He had closed himself off from them, hurting them worse. Since then, he had vowed that if any other tragedies took place, he had to do the opposite. He had to be there for his friends no matter how badly he was hurting inside or how much he thought he could not help them.
". . . I hurt you guys tonight," he said at last, "when you thought I was dead. . . ."
"You couldn't help what happened, Sean!" Scott exclaimed, gripping his friend's arm. "Neither could you, El!" he quickly added, looking to the brunet.
"We were all being manipulated by her," Barry said, giving the mad scientist in his grasp another dark look. She did not acknowledge or return it.
"The lowest of the low," Sean said in disgust.
Scott nodded agreement. "So . . . please don't blame yourselves, guys," he begged, looking around at his friends again. "It's not your fault. Not at all!"
Elliott gave him a weak smile. He did not want to talk about it with that witch within earshot, but it was hard not to be angry with himself that he could not have avoided being injected.
"Hey," he said instead, "what happened to McKinley, anyway?"
"I stuffed him in a closet," Barry deadpanned.
Elliott had to snicker at the way Barry had said it. "Serves him right," he said.