Mobius Knight/Kidnapped
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
Kyle Masters’ cell phone rang to the not-so-melodic sound of cats screeching, and he grinned as he reached for the annoyingly loud device. He knew Kylee would be appalled to know what he had programmed for the ring tone that announced she was calling, and that was half the reason he kept it.
“Heya, sis,” he said after flipping open the phone and muting the TV, “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” she said, “Just wanted to call and say hi. So…hi.”
“Hi, yourself. What’re you up to lately?”
“Just school stuff.”
“Just school stuff? What about all that socializing you’re famous for?”
“Well, Mom grounded me, so I’m kind of stuck at home unless I’m at school. It sucks hardcore.”
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing. Well, nothing more than usual. You know how she gets.”
Boy, did he ever. Kyle’s mother, Lettie Masters, was about as domineering as anyone could get without actually being a drill sergeant. It was her way or the highway, and the highway frequently didn’t exist. She was half the reason Kyle had moved out of Pensacola in the first place. He felt bad for his sister, who, in his absence, was forced to bear the full brunt of their mother’s love.
It could be suffocating at times.
“Should you even be on the phone, then?” he asked. Getting grounded by Mom generally meant no phone until further notice, and Kyle was worried that his mother might confiscate his sister’s phone and use it to get his new cell phone number. The last thing he needed was to get two calls an hour from his mother while working. Hell, he’d destroyed his other cell phone the last time he’d talked to her. His new one was expensive; he’d really rather not break it.
“Nah, I’m okay. She’s out, and you know how Dad is. Always looking to get us that little piece of freedom.”
“Yeah. Well, it’s good to hear from you, but don’t get on Mom’s bad side, alright? I can’t bail you out from all the way up here.”
“How’re things up there, anyway?”
“Oh, you know. Same old. Still working two jobs.”
“How’s the mask thing working out?” Kylee was one of the very few people that knew Kyle’s secret; that he was the hero known as Mobius Knight. He’d told her because he knew she could keep a secret. She still, for example, hadn’t told Mom, who could be the worst torturer ever, about the whole spaghetti incident, which Kyle hoped and prayed she would take to her grave.
“Not going to lie, it’s pretty tough,” he answered with a sigh, “Seems like there’s no end to the number of guys who want to beat the crap out of me sometimes. I just about had my arm broken yesterday as a matter of fact.”
“Ouch.”
“Turned out okay, though. Hospital patched me up with no problems.”
“Taken down Lord Recluse yet?”
“Pfft, come off it, sis, you know I’m not that good.”
“I think you could take him. He’s not that tough.”
“Yeah, not that tough. He’s just survived Statesman and the Freedom Phalanx for years through good luck and eating his Wheaties.”
Kylee laughed, but stopped abruptly.
“Oh crap Mom just came home gotta go bye!” And the call ended. Kyle couldn’t help but chuckle as he flipped his cell phone closed and put it back on the table. Ah, the life he wasn’t missing at all. Well, maybe a little, if he was honest with himself.
He looked at his watch as the TV continued to silently play out in the background of his peripheral vision. It was just about time. He turned off the TV and walked across his living room to a large dresser. The dresser itself was strikingly ordinary, made unique only by the fact that it had no less than three locks. Kyle first undid the combination lock, then the keypad entry that doubled as a fingerprint scanner, then undid the combination lock again before opening the final lock with a quick vocal password. Any other combination would activate the numerous stun devices placed within the closet, rendering even an elephant unconscious in seconds. At least, that’s what he was told. He’d never had reason to test it, and was pretty sure he never would, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Or, in his case, overly safe. Though he’d never admit it publicly, he knew it was something he got from his mother.
Opening the closet revealed a number of different clothes, tools and more, but he wasn’t interested in all of it. He pulled the armored vest off its hanger and slipped it on, pulling the latches as tight as he could as he looked for obvious damage, of which there was none. The armored shoulder pads went on next, followed shortly by his padded pants. Not that the pants did anything most of the time, but better safe than sorry. Again.
He reached in and grabbed his sword from its wall hanger, pulling it from its sheath to examine it. Not for the first time, he was amazed by the quality of the blade, its metal surface polished to an almost mirror-like shine. It was well-balanced, and never seemed to lose its edge, no matter what he cut with it. The workmanship was evident in every part of the weapon, except, of course, the hilt, which was beat up and thoroughly worn. He really needed to get that replaced at some point, but he kept forgetting to do it. Well, something to keep in mind. The thin blade went back into the sheath, which was then clipped to his belt.
Only a few more things. He grabbed his goggles from their protective case and put them on his forehead. Sure, they weren’t really helpful, but they were as much a part of his costume as the rest of it. He then grabbed his mask, really little more than a piece of cloth, and wrapped it around the lower half of his face. His identity now secure, he grabbed his tactical belt and strapped it on before pulling out his gloves and putting them on.
He was no longer Kyle Masters; he was now Mobius Knight, protector of innocents, scourge of evil, all that jazz. He felt safe in his armored clothing, braver, perhaps. He tried not to think about it as he closed the dresser. He reached into one of his belt pouches and pulled out a small device that looked suspiciously like a heavily modified television remote control, and began tapping buttons. Within a few moments, he had vanished from the apartment, teleported away to the roof of a building more than one hundred yards away.
When he rematerialized from his hijacked trip through the city-wide teleportation grid on the roof of another apartment building, he was surprised to find that it was occupied. And he was surrounded. A number of Arachnos goons, dressed in black armor and wielding particularly painful-looking weapons, were gathered in a circle around him.
“Uh, hi,” he said as he waved, his voice muffled slightly by his mask, “Did I interrupt one of your secret meetings? Do I need to learn the secret handshake or something?”
Had he the time, Mobius probably would’ve figured out that the Arachnos thugs had been waiting for him. After all, he always teleported out to this rooftop from his apartment lately, and while it wasn’t exactly common knowledge, anyone probably could have figured it out, given enough time. Had he the time, Mobius probably would’ve been able to take out two, maybe even three of the Wolf Spiders, enabling an escape from the trap set for him.
But he didn’t have the time. A sickening crunch of bone echoed in the immediate area as a heavy energy club struck him in the back of the head. Unconsciousness followed quickly.
It was truly amazing how the human body could function despite excruciating pain.
That was Kyle’s first thought as awareness seeped back into to his battered body. It was a painful awakening; his head felt as though he’d been hit with a baseball bat. Repeatedly. It took him a moment to remember that he had, in fact, been hit in the head. With that revelation, he tried to gather his thoughts around the massive knot of pain in the back of his skull. He remembered the Arachnos Wolf Spiders, and the blow to the head, but nothing else.
He moved fractionally, checking his limbs, then his fingers to make sure everything was still attached and in good working order. He had a brief moment of panic when his right foot seemingly refused to move, but it just took half a second longer. His examination completed, he slowly lifted himself off the cold ground, pushing himself onto his hands and knees.
The movement made him sick, and he stopped long enough to throw up. The vomit left a slightly acidic taste in his mouth, and he coughed a couple of times before spitting to relieve the gross taste. It took him a moment to realize that he shouldn’t be able to puke and spit through his mask, and his hand rushed to his face to find that the mask was, in fact, missing.
“Awake, are you?” he heard, and he looked to his left to see a woman dressed in the typical red garb of an Arachnos Fortunata, standing on the other side of a set of bars. He refused to be surprised by the fact that he had been captured. Refusal, however, didn’t change the fact that he was captured.
“Great nap,” he chuckled, pain rocketing through his head from the mere act of talking, “Pillow would be nice in the future.” The Fortunata made no move, said nothing as he carefully hauled himself to his feet. He rocked somewhat unsteadily on his feet, but put his hand on the cold metal wall to steady himself. The touch of metal on his bare hand focused his mind somewhat, so much so that he was able to realize he was only wearing a t-shirt and his underwear. All of his gear had been stripped away.
“You should consider yourself fortunate,” the red-clad woman stated coldly, “that you have value beyond your possessions. Were it up to me, you would be dead already.”
“At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about where to find some aspirin,” Kyle joked, rubbing the back of his head. It felt tender to the touch, but, other than the raging headache of doom, he seemed to be okay.
“You can make jokes now, but rest assured, when the time comes, there will be no time for humor.”
“It’ll be a very grave time, then. Might as well start digging my hole before the clock runs out, because joking is all I’ve got right now.” Kyle gestured at his clothes. He wasn’t sure, but he thought for a moment that he saw the Fortunata scowl at his attempt at levity. He grinned; despite the life or death circumstances, this was kind of funny. If he’d known that the Fortunatas were so easily irritated, he would’ve been able to take them out a lot easier.
“I have no time for this. Prepare yourself for Lord Recluse’s arrival. He cares not for insects such as you unless they can be useful to him. Show him respect, and he might allow you to keep your life.”
Kyle was about to throw out another joke, something about hermits and their general level of hygiene, but the Fortunata turned away. Without hesitation, Kyle leapt towards the bars of his cell, reaching through them to grab the woman’s outfit in his hand. With a mighty pull, he cracked her head against the bars of the cell, fully expecting her to fall unconscious from the trauma. However, she continued to struggle against him, and he pulled her forcefully into the bars again, and then a third time just for good measure, until finally she went limp. He let her fall to the ground and searched through her belongings until he found the key he was looking for. Moments later, he left the cell to find himself in a hallway of jail cells, all of which were empty.
The Fortunata didn’t have any weapons, unfortunately, so Kyle was still defenseless. The last thing he wanted was to break his hand on some Wolf Spider’s armor. He needed to find his stuff, and he needed to find it fast.
The door to the room opened easily enough to reveal a featureless hallway. Most doors were unmarked, and judging from the layout of the base, it was reasonable to assume that he was deep underground somewhere. Probably heavily guarded near the entrance somewhere above, which meant he really needed his stuff if he wanted to get out of here. Without any kind of direction or sense of purpose, he opened the first unmarked door he came across, as quietly as he could, and he closed it just as quickly when he saw five Wolf Spiders on the other side. That wasn’t the right door.
Ten minutes later, he found a storage room that was unguarded, and he quickly rifled through the various boxes and crates, hoping to find something, anything he could use. He was surprised and relieved to find not only a full set of Wolf Spider light armor, but also a number of energy clubs of the type usually carried by Wolf Spider TacOps. He quickly suited up, finding the armor uncomfortably tight, but it was better than nothing. He then grabbed one of the energy clubs, surprised to find that it was actually really heavy, and left the room.
Almost immediately, he was confronted by a Wolf Spider TacOp, who, it seemed, was walking past the door at the exact wrong moment. Or, perhaps, the exact right moment, Kyle figured.
You have to look at from both directions.
“Hey! What’re you doing in there?”
“Nothing,” Kyle replied, then mentally kicked himself for the dumb response. Nothing? Like he’s going to believe that.
“Storage is off-limits to Wolf Spiders, and you damn well better not be carrying a nullifier mace.”
“I’m not,” Kyle said as he moved the energy mace out of view. Again, he mentally kicked himself. What the hell was wrong with him? These were stupid, really stupid responses.
“Hands up, you’re going to the rehabilitation center.” The Arachnos thug moved towards Kyle, who took the opportunity to thrust the energy mace into his opponent’s gut as hard as he could. The Spider doubled over in pain, letting out a gasp of agony just before Kyle smashed him in the back of the head with the mace. The Spider fell face first to the metal floor and did not move.
“I call that my Pillsbury Poke,” Kyle stated to no one in particular with a grin. He quickly searched his opponent but found nothing useful. He then tried to drag his opponent into the storage room, but found that the TacOps armor was, in fact, really heavy. He strained to pull the hefty bruiser’s body, and after a few seconds of ultimately unproductive effort, he gave up and ran through the hallways.
They’re going to find that guy, and they’re going to sound the alarm, and then I’ll be in just ridiculous amounts of trouble. Peachy.
As if on cue, red lights began flashing and an annoying loud klaxon began blaring. Kyle cursed under his breath, but kept running. If he didn’t get out of here soon, he was going to be in even more serious trouble. As hefty as the energy mace in his hand was, he knew he wasn’t going to be much good with it in a fight. Better to get his own stuff; at least then he might have a chance. Like a snowball in a pizza oven instead of hell.
He rounded a corner to see a group of Wolf Spiders heading away from him, and on instinct, he ran to the nearest door, opened it and disappeared inside. He quickly looked around to get his bearings, and was surprised and somewhat frustrated to find that he was in a room with no less than three Fortunatas gathered in front of a large monitor. He prepared to dash out of the room before they could notice him, but he happened to glance at the monitor, and was surprised to see the face of Lord Recluse staring directly at him.
Not that he’d ever seen Recluse in anything other than pictures in the paper, and those were sketchy at best, but he was sure that the masked man with the crazy mechanical arms behind him was the leader of the Arachnos organization. He found himself staring for a moment before he recovered long enough to think about what to do.
Then, without hesitating any further, he leapt forward towards the Fortunatas, whose backs were to him, and clubbed them all mercilessly in the heads until they fell to the ground. His onslaught was quick; they had no time to react. And then, Kyle found himself face to digitally-transmitted face with perhaps the most wanted man in the world. It took him a moment to figure out what to say.
“Hi.”
“Disobedience will not be tolerated,” Recluse said, and Kyle found himself shuddering imperceptibly in fear at the man’s voice. It was just so…frightening, but so far beyond frightening.
“W-well, disobedience requires obedience in the first place,” Kyle said, finally finding his voice again and he took off his stolen helmet, “And as I’m sure you know, heroes aren’t much for taking orders from people like you.”
“Kyle Masters,” Kyle shuddered again; Recluse knew his real name…that couldn’t possibly be a good thing, “I am suitably impressed that you have managed to escape your cell, though it will do you no good. You will serve me, or die.”
“Hmm. Well, what would you like?” Recluse did not answer, so Kyle plowed ahead, “I mean, ginger ale? Coke? Sprite? Red Beast? No, wait, I’m betting you’re a Shirley Temple kind of guy, aren’t you? You seem kind of, what’s the word…feminine? I guess it doesn’t matter either way. I don’t mix drinks.” With that, Kyle found the power switch for the screen and pushed it, and Recluse’s image disappeared.
Kyle wanted to jump and shout and proclaim to the world that he’d just told off an incredibly powerful, incredibly dangerous man and lived to tell the tale, but all he could feel was overwhelming fear. Recluse knew his name. Arachnos knew who he was. They would be able to find out about his family.
He had to get out of here and warn them.
A quick search of the room revealed his equipment, and he took a moment to change out of his stolen armor and into his hero outfit. His blade was actually inside some kind of scanning machine, and he used the energy mace to break the glass of the machine before discarding it and retrieving his sword. As he clipped it onto his belt once more, he thought about the words of the Fortunata who had been at his cell.
You have value beyond your possessions.
“What the hell are my possessions worth?” he said quietly to himself, “It’s just an old blade and some goggles. Nothing worth anything.”
The door to the room burst open suddenly to reveal a group of Wolf Spiders, armed with particularly vicious-looking spiked clubs. Kyle didn’t have any time to think, and there was no time for a glib phrase.
He simply drew his sword and rushed them.
Kyle sighed as he closed the closet that held his hero equipment and rubbed his head again. The bump was still painful to the touch, and he was careful to avoid it.
He was more than a little upset; the mad dash from the Arachnos facility had left him with more than a few injuries, not the least of which was a particularly deep cut on his back that had gotten through his armor. More than that, though, was the fact that a number of his devices had been destroyed or otherwise rendered into junk by a blast from a nullifier mace, including his teleportation device. He’d spent weeks making that thing, and to have it busted apart by one blast of energy after all he’d been through was…annoying, to say the least.
He slumped on his couch, dressed in comfortable lounging clothes as the sun began to rise outside his window. It had been a long night, and it was shaping up to be a long day. He had to be at work in an hour, which barely left him enough time to clean himself up and get something to eat, never mind resting. Maybe he’d call out sick.
Hey boss, I can’t make it in today. Yeah, kidnapped by Arachnos, you know how it is.
He chuckled to himself, then picked up his cell phone from where he’d left it on the table the day before. Two new messages, according to the display. He flipped open the phone and dialed his voice mail service.
The first message was from Terra. He’d have to get back to her, but it’d have to wait until later.
The second message was from…
Oh no.
“Young man, you have a lot of explaining to do!” the shrill voice of his mother echoed from the phone as Kyle held it away from his head. No sense doing permanent damage to his hearing. His mother’s recorded voice was almost as painful as the real thing, but nothing could compare to that torture. If nothing else, at least he could turn off his cell.
It took a lot of effort for him not to do so as the piercing sound continued to spew forth from the little device in his hand. He didn’t listen to it, mainly because he already knew what she was saying, but also because he was trying to figure out how she had gotten his new number. Must’ve been from his sister. She’d cracked. To be fair, he knew she would eventually, but he’d really been hoping she could have held out for just a bit longer. He was sure she’d done her best, but the best torturers in the world had nothing on a mother full of wrath.
Speaking of wrath, her message finally ended, and the first thing Kyle did was delete it. No sense ever listening to it again. He contemplated calling her back – the voice mail system said that the call had come only an hour ago – but decided against it. Instead, he called his office and left a message with his boss explaining that he had come down with something and wouldn’t be in today. He coughed for effect, made his voice as gravelly as possible as he spoke. His boss was a nice guy for the most part, and Kyle was sure he’d be fine. Besides, schedules at the office were nicely flexible in his position; he’d just have to make up the time later.
He put the cell phone back on the table, then returned to his closet, opening the combination locks, and putting his costume back on. He switched out his cut and damaged armor for a new set, and closed the closet once again. He crossed the apartment to his window, preparing to lower himself to the ground by sliding down the drainage pipe that ran vertically next to it. As he put one foot on the window sill, he heard his cell phone ring, the distinctive tune of Taps echoing in the apartment. He smiled behind his mask.
Give me villains and kidnap plots and bumps on the head any day of the week. I’d rather deal with them than with my mother. How sad is that?
The phone continued to ring as he slid down the pipe.
It was going to be a very long day indeed.
