She looked up from her reflecting pool and smiled, seeing the pair walk toward her. "Well, hello, sister!" she greeted brightly. "Pete," she greeted the man.
Her sister glared at her. "Don't you 'hello, sister' me. Have you been told?"
"I have." She watched Pete circle her, leering greedily at her. With a sad sigh, she waved a hand toward him. She picked up the Pekinese dog that had replaced Pete and gently petted the yapping, struggling beast as she went on, "And I agree, it is a worthy test. The only limitation on it I set is, the telekinesis is such a dangerous power that it goes to one with major temper control."
The flame-haired one nodded. "Agreed to!"
With a nod, the blonde raised a hand. "And you two do not bedevil them. This is a trial only, not a competition."
Again, a nod from the flame-haired one. "I've already been informed of the limitations. We have -- reluctantly -- agreed."
"Very well." She set the dog down and as she pulled away, he became human again. She smiled sweetly at them both. "Do it as they sleep, then. And get out of my home, you're fouling the atmosphere."
With a double growl, the couple vanished in a sulphurous stench. The blonde sighed and waved a hand to dispel the odor. "Really, dear twin, must you be so dramatic?"
With that, Roma turned back to her viewing pool and watched her four favourite champions sleep. When each glowed, she breathed out:
As usual, Peter was up with the chickens. And as such, he got the first inkling that something was wrong.
They had recently remodeled the downstairs room and had moved two of the beds down there. Wanting a fair way to divide the rooms, they had drawn cards. Lowest two cards would get the new bedroom. They had drawn and hilarity had resulted at the outcome.
Peter and Davy downstairs, Mike and Micky upstairs. Just like the show.
“Shouldn't be surprised by now," had been Mike's comment between chuckles.
Peter smiled as that ran through his head, as it had every morning for the last four they'd been in that room. Chuckling, he glanced over at Davy's sleeping form -- and got a jolting realisation that something was very, verywrong.
Davy's body was softly glowing.
Frowning, Peter sent a mental wake-up signal to Mike and Mike sent a muzzy signal back after a moment. Still too stunned for speech, Peter sent an image of Davy to Mike.
?!!!!!!?? came the wordless reply.
My sentiments exactly.
There was a pause, then a sudden blast of alarm from Mike.
What? What is it?
Mike sent an image of Peter walking to the stairs.
Frowning, Peter obeyed. I'm here. What's.....
Mike appeared at the top of the stairs, shock written all over his face. Peter's jaw dropped as his huge blue eyes scanned Mike's form even as he headed up the stairs so Mike wouldn't fall down them.
"Davy's glowin'," Mike said shakily. "And... And I'm not even three feet tall..... Pete?" he asked as his eyes scanned the downstairs. "Pete, I feel ya... but I don't...."
"I'm right here," Peter said, touching Mike's arm. Mike yelped at the contact.
Peter looked down, and gasped. "Oh, no....” he whispered. "Oh, no no...."
There was no hand on Mike's arm.
"Pete..." Mike whispered. "You... you're...."
"Invisible," they finished together, both voices trembling.
"Ready?" Mike whispered softly.
Ready, Peter sent back. Blindfold is in place, securely tied.
Gently, six-foot-two Mike nudged Micky's arm. "Wake up, buddy."
"Nrffrgle...." was the articulate response from the blindfolded drummer.
"Time, man, we got a problem here."
"Pr...oblem?" Micky sat up. "Wait a sec...." his hand flew to his face. "What in the world...." he began to slide the blindfold up.
Mike's hand shot out, and he adjusted his height to six-foot-three, activating the strength.
Feeling the pressure on his wrist, Micky winced. "Davy... c'mon, man...."
"It's not Davy, it's me," Mike said gently. "Davy's asleep downstairs -- glowin' like a candle."
Micky paused at that revelation. Then he said shakily, "Peter?"
"Right here, Micky," came from the other bed.
A chuckle from thin air. "Well, at the moment, I've got a bad case of 'see-through-itis', but ...."
"You're invisible, huh?" Micky managed a small smile. "Guess that explains why I'm blindfolded."
"Just a precaution, Mick," Mike said as he released Micky's wrist.
"I can see why," Micky nodded. "Last thing you needed would be for me to open my eyes and blow you across the room."
"Micky," Peter said, "the limits are what can be seen and imagined. You look at something, and picture it going where you want it to be -- and it goes there."
Micky nodded again. Two deep breaths, and he removed the blindfold. Another few breaths, and he slowly opened his eyes.
Mike smiled. "Unchanged."
"Try the telekinesis now," Peter said.
Micky nodded and scanned the room. His eyes locked onto a book. Mike and Peter could not stifle a gasp as blue light flared from almond-shaped eyes and the book flew into Micky's waiting hands.
"I am telekinetic!" Micky gasped, cutting off the glow as he looked down at the book.
“Mick, look up," Mike ordered. When Micky did, Mike whistled. "Slate-blue eyes." He shook his head in wonder. "Just like happened to Peter -- the glow dispersed the pigmentation and they turned blue."
"Daaaaang," Micky breathed. "Two blue-eyed...."
"Well, we're assuming Peter's are still blue," Mike grinned. "Not as though we can see him to tell...."
Micky grinned. "Peter, think 'visible', widen your eyes, then narrow them."
On the edge of Mike's bed, the air itself seemed to thicken as Peter shimmered into view. He smiled at the others shakily. "Did it work?"
"It worked," Mike confirmed. "And yes, your eyes are as blue as ever."
"So to blink out..." Peter widened his eyes... and vanished as they narrowed. He laughed and shimmered into visibility once more.
"Force-fields, you just picture them in your mind, do the eye thing, and there you go. To drop it, just picture it vanishing and it will." Micky smiled as Peter nodded.
Suddenly, Mike moaned and put his head in his hands.
“What?" Micky and Peter asked in unison.
"It just hit me...." Mike groaned, raising his head. "Davy's got all my light powers --- even the lasers!"
Micky frowned. "I'm not following...."
"Oh, man, he's right!" Peter groaned. "The most dangerous of our powers... mixed with that hot Mancunian temper..."
"Well," Micky stood up, newly-blue eyes shining with merriment. "Let's head down and wake hothead up, see what happens."
Knowing from experience that Davy woke badly, the three gathered around the head of his bed. At Peter's nod, Micky reached down and shook Davy's shoulder. "Time to wake up..."
Davy mumbled and rolled over.
Micky shook him harder. "Davy...."
Startled into half-wakefulness, Davy jerked up and reacted instinctively. Micky somersaulted out of the way as Davy fired a laser, blowing a hole in the wall across the room.
Blinking dully, Davy looked at the hole.... then at his hand.... then at the hole....then back at his hand....
"I'll call Hank," Mike said with a chuckle and a shake of his head as he headed out the door.
"I'll talk to Davy," Peter said.
"I'll fly into town for breakfast," Micky grinned. "Back in a bit."
Once they were alone, Davy looked wild-eyed up at Peter. "....what just..."
Peter laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Davy, we need to talk."
The impact of the hand across her face sent her spinning to the ground. "You will tell me what I need to know!"
"I can't!" she sobbed.
A hand snarled into her hair, jerking her head up to meet blazing almond-shaped eyes. "You will tell me."
"I can't!" she repeated. "I don't know how and I wouldn't tell you if I knew!"
He slapped her again, and threw her to the ground. "Then do the next best thing. Use your powers to help me."
He nodded. "Help me find that stretching freak and get my revenge on him!"
Her eyes met his, and she nodded faintly.
"Excellent!" he smiled a terrible parody of Micky's humour-filled smile. "Now first we....hey!"
She shimmered into invisibility.
"Hey, you weren't supposed to absorb my powers!"
"You weren't supposed to hit me!" she snarled as she rose from the ground and out a window.
"Where are you?" she heard him bellowing behind her. "Where are you! Mirrydor, ANSWER ME!"
When she was far enough away, Mirrydor shimmered into visibility and flew as fast as she could to Malibu Beach. She had to warn them.
The man-sized ebony bird dipped, swooped and swerved amid the orange beams that shot from below. It swooped, evaded, and dove as it rose and fell among the beams.
Suddenly it put on a burst of speed and shot completely out of the beams, its body rippling as it did so. As it altered, it flung itself toward the tall man hovering in the air to the side.
The man's glowing eyes widened and a hand flung out. He cried out as a massive ebony python wrapped around him, sending them both to the ground.
"Aaawwww, Micky!" Peter growled as he floated down beside him. He squatted beside his entwined friend. "You're telekinetic now! You do not have the fields! Your strengths are evasive!"
"Now you tell me," Micky grumbled. The glow in his eyes died and he turned those blue eyes to the side, looking right into the ebony snake's eyes. "So what do you think, Hank?"
Several short hisses -- serpentine laughter -- rang out, and a forked tongue shot out to flick across the tip of Micky's nose.
"Eeeyuck," Micky groused as his roommates laughed. "There are times when I think I liked you better before you became our age...."
The ebony coils released him, and the snake became Hank Babbitt, their landlord with a powerful secret. The black-haired young ani-phase held his stomach as his laughter sent him onto his back. "Oh... oh, come on, Micky!" he howled between chuckles. "I n-nearly married you once...." And he was off again.
"Sheesh, one day in drag and nobody'll let you forget it," Micky grumbled, though memories of his stint as 'Mrs. Arcadian' never failed to make him smile. It had been in the course of a show, but they were finding a lot of show tidbits were reality here.
And by Hank's hilarity, 'Mrs. Arcadian' had been one of them. "S-Seriously," he said, sitting up and wiping the tears from his eyes. "I forgot how long a python's tongue is. I was just tryin' to give you a snake raspberry, not make contact!"
Micky waved a hand in dismissal, though he was still grinning. "It's okay, Hank. I forgive ya."
"Hey, Hank," Mike said, smiling. "You did good, dodgin' Davy's lasers."
Davy snorted. "Those things are hard to aim!"
"You've all got adjustments to make," Hank said, suddenly serious. "That was just freaky, the way you all switched around!"
Peter nodded. "And we've gotta make them fast."
Micky looked at him, his voice soft and deadly serious. "The tone you just used scared the hell outta me."
"Yeah, shotgun," Mike shivered. "What's goin' on?"
"Not really sure," Peter said, scanning the sky. "It just feels like we don't have a lot of time."
She fell from the sky like a stone as her fatigue began to override her consciousness. She caught herself and glided the rest of the way, landing safely if not gracefully.
Forcing leaden limbs to move, she stumbled up the stairs and leaned heavily on the doorbell and pounded a fist on the heavy wooden door as the edges of her vision greyed out.
At last, the door opened and the woman on the other side's eyes widened. "...oh my... Mirrydor?"
"Please..." she gasped, reaching for her. "...help me...he's after...." And her world went black as she passed out.
Almost instantly, she was lifted and carried into the building. "JAMES!" the woman who had answered the door bellowed. "CALL PETER RIGHT NOW!"
"Yes, Miss Cartwright!" came the immediate response.
Nodding, Valerie Cartwright carried the unconscious Mirrydor up the stairs and into a bedroom, making her comfortable. Taking in the visible bruises on her face and arms, Valerie shook her head. "Aw, Mirrydor.... what happened to you?"
The pounding on her door was constant, by the time she reached it and opened it. Smiling in delighted surprise, she chuckled, "Valerie! What brings you here?"
Valerie's face was grim, her large eyes dark with concern as she walked in. "Alice, do you know where Peter is?"
Alice Purdy Babbitt frowned as the thought. "Hank said they were going to have wargames today."
"Do you know where?"
"Valerie, what happened?"
Valerie met Alice's eyes and said grimly, "Mirrydor was attacked."
Alice's jaw set and she grabbed the car keys from a small wicker basket. "Let's go," she ordered, tying back her pale blonde hair as she moved toward the door.
"Yes!" Peter cheered, punching the air and laughing. "Yes, you've got it!"
"No!" Mike laughed, clapping oversized hands in glee. "We’ve got it!"
Micky, Peter and Hank touched down, Hank shifting to human form as he did so. Mike shrank to his natural height and Davy shot fireworks into the sky as they laughed and clapped each other on the shoulders.
"There!" Valerie jabbed her finger in the air. "Fireworks -- that has to be Mike!"
“I see it!" Alice said, turning the wheel.
Five heads spun around as Alice's car pulled up onto the grass and Valerie stood up in it. Without a second to think, Peter and Hank were both sprinting toward the car.
"I'm all right," Alice said as she was enfolded in her husband's embrace. "I drove Valerie, is all...."
Valerie took hold of Peter's forearms. As the others jogged up behind Peter, she laid it out in as few words as possible: "Mirrydor's at the mansion. She's been beaten--"
Micky didn't wait to hear more. He shot into the air and rocketed toward the mansion, his face a mask of fury. The blaze in his eyes was not completely from the telekinetic glow.
At Valerie's stunned expression, Mike explained, "Nobody -- but nobody -- harms a woman around Micky."
"Around any of us," Peter growled. "Mike, can you and --"
Mike nodded. "I'm sure Alice will drive us back."
"I'll be glad to," Alice smiled.
Peter nodded and lifted Valerie into his arms. He shot straight up into the air before gliding toward the mansion.
Valerie was so relieved to have found help for Mirrydor, she didn't even notice Peter's eyes weren't glowing.
Micky touched down on the mansion's front porch, cutting off the telekinesis as he knocked. When James opened the door, he opened his mouth to speak.
James didn't give him the chance. "Mister Dolenz, thank goodness! She has been calling for you and your friends!"
He nodded, moving past the smaller man. "Where is she?"
"Second floor, third room on the right. Shall I wait for your companions?"
Micky nodded again, half-jogging toward the stairs. "Yeah, send them up!" he called over his shoulder as he took the stairs two at a time.
He found her battered body laid gently on top of the covers, still in the torn clothing she'd arrived in. She was only half awake, but she was moaning softly. Micky caught every one of their names, then their friend Rob Smith's.
He moved to the bedside, struck by how tiny she seemed. A few inches taller than Davy, willowy --- she looked so vulnerable.
Micky's heart shattered to see the damage done to her face and arms. "I'm here," he whispered, sitting on the bed and lifting her slight weight into his arms. He cradled her gently and stroked her ebony hair. "I'm here, Mirrydor."
Her hand clamped weakly on his arm. "....George!" she whispered urgently. "...G-George...."
"George?" he whispered, not quite believing his ears. Her response was a slow nod that seemed to sap her energy, and she dozed in his arms.
"George?" he repeated, utterly confused. He'd been 'Micky' for so long that it seemed strange to be called by his first name. They weren't famous here -- he barely knew Mirrydor -- so how would she know....
Then it hit him. She wasn't talking to him -- she was telling him who'd done this to her!
"George," he hissed, the image of his own taunting face rising to his mind. "That son of a bitch," he growled, clutching the wounded woman closer to him in an instinctual need to protect her.
Rocking Mirrydor slightly, Micky felt blind rage rearing in him at the sight of what his evil double had done. "That twice-damned son of a rabid bitch!" he growled.
And in response to his emotions, his blue eyes began their unearthly glow.
Peter landed with Valerie and frowned as he looked upstairs. "Did you have a light on?"
Valerie followed his eyes and shook her head. "No... we don't have any blue lights..."
"Oh, blast it..." Peter shot up and through the open window. "MICKY!"
Micky was kneeling on the bed, holding Mirrydor. His entire body was shaking with anger and his eyes were glowing.
Peter hollered to get his attention. "MICKY! TELEKINESIS! TEMPER!"
He looked up at Peter and gritted out," ...told me who hurt her...."
"Who did it?"
Peter jerked as if he'd been slapped. "...ohboy...." he sighed. "Micky, calm down! We'll handle him -- right now, you’re the danger!"
The look he got would have looked at home on Mike's face -- a look of pure fury. "I'll never hurt her!"
"If you don't calm down and get your TK under control, you WILL! THINK!"
It took another few minutes, but finally Micky had both his temper and telekinesis under control.
"I'm still mad, though," he growled as he lay Mirrydor back on the bed.
"You've every right to be," Peter said as he pulled the comforter over the injured woman. "I'm pretty ticked off, myself."
Micky sighed. "George," he growled. "Goes underground for nearly a year, then shows up beatin' up on women. I swear, Peter, I wanna KILL him for this!"
"You beady-eyed, thick-jawed IMBECILE!" he roared as the back of his hand connected, sending the taller man flying into the boxes in the warehouse. "I ought'a KILL you for this!"
He raised a hand and wiped the blood from a corner of his mouth as he sat up painfully. "I didn't do anything to mess up!"
"You call kidnapping and abusing a woman NOTHING?! DAMMIT, George, if you don't keep your damned temper in check, this whole thing is gonna come down on YOUR head!"
"She wouldn't listen!" he spread his hands. "I was just trying to persuade her to help us!"
A snort came from the other side of the room and the small man sitting in the corner cracked, "Oh, you enjoyed it, you know you did!"
George began to smile at that, earning him another savage backhand. That hand fisted in the tight curls on George's forehead and jerked his head back so far and so hard that George involuntarily gasped.
The backhander leaned in so his face was a mere inch from George's. "LOOK, you pea-brain, Mara and I had to do some FANCY talking to get this power transfer agreed to! We were bound by a promise NOT to bedevil them while they're switched, so YOU TWO have got to do it!"
The short man laughed at that. "Since when do you honour promises, Leader?"
Pete glared at him as he stood up, releasing George. "Y'don't break promises to.... Forget it, your brain's too small to understand. Let's just say this is a promise we don't DARE break and leave it at that!"
"Yeah, Dave, haven't you been listening?" George snarled.
Dave stood up and finished cleaning his last nail, closing the switchblade knife and sliding it into his pocket afterwards. "I've been listening. I'm not liking what I'm hearing. Why the hell are you sending us after him, anyway?"
"BECAUSE," Pete snarled, glaring at him, "if we can get to him, we'll kill two birds with one stone! Get at those goody-goodies AND punish him for ever leaving us!"
That made Dave begin to smile. "Now that I can dig. And their power were switched so we'd be less evenly matched?"
"Smart guy," Pete smiled coldly. "With them havin' unfamiliar powers, they'll be confused -- unsure. Perfect for pickin' off!"
"Like shootin' fish in a barrel!" Dave laughed.
George laughed, too. "So, who has what now?"
"I don't know," Pete admitted with a cruel smile. "All I know for sure is that Dolenz is the telekinetic. The others were random." He laughed, seeing George blanch at that. Then his smile faded. "And YOU...." His eyes glowed brown, and George was lifted off the ground. "YOU had better not have ruined this, or I WILL kill you."
Dave spoke up. "Leader... why did the Dark Lady have them turned around?"
Pete smiled as he let George crash to the ground. "She is tired of being humiliated by them. With them turned, she -- or her agents -- can destroy them easily!"
"And we're her agents?" George whimpered.
Pete laughed. "He can be taught!" To Dave, he said coldly, "We are depending on you two. You know the penalty for failure."
Dave bowed his head in a respectful nod. "Yes, Leader. We shall not fail you."
Peter and Micky walked downstairs to see Mike, Davy and Valerie poring over a map of Malibu Beach, with James the butler helping as best he could. "What's going on?" Peter asked.
Davy looked up and smiled. "We're trying to track George down, find out what he wants now."
A tired voice from the stairs replied, "I know what he wants."
All eyes flew to the stairs and Micky mounted them. "...Mirrydor...."
"Melanie," she said shakily, smiling as best she could as he helped her down the stairs. "My... my name is Melanie Coleson. F-Falconman named me Mirrydor when he saw how I could mirror powers." She closed her eyes and leaned into Micky's embrace, overcome by a wave of pain.
Micky gently guided her to the couch. "Maybe you should rest some more..."
"No!" she gasped. "No... I-I need to tell you! He d-did this ... trying to get information... that I d-don't have...."
Peter crouched in front of her and took her hands. Ever the leader, he had to know. "What information, Mir--Melanie?"
She met his eyes and licked her bruised lips, wincing. "Where R-Rob lived..."
"Aw, shit," Micky breathed, shaking his head.
Mirrydor nodded shakily, eyes already drooping. The effort of communication was becoming more than her body could take. "W...wants him back....saw u-us fightin'...t'gether....ogre..."
"We get the message, babe," Micky said, gently stroking her one unmarked cheek. "You did good. Rest now... we've got your back."
She met his eyes and smiled before hers closed completely. "Trus'... you...." And her body relaxed so suddenly, so completely, that Mike's eyes flew open wide and his fingers flew to the base of her throat.
"Mike?" Micky asked, his blue eyes wide and his voice breaking in panic.
After a moment, Mike's eyes closed and his shoulders sagged. "She's just wore out. Just needs to rest."
Micky let out a sigh and pulled her closer, resting his cheek lightly on top of her ebony hair.
Peter nodded. "Right. Micky, I need you to go warn Rob--"
“I'm stayin' here," he interrupted.
Peter sighed. "We've got her back, Mick. Time is of the essence here -- and your telekinesis is faster flyin' than my shields."
Davy winced. "Gah, that's weird to hear!"
Mike grinned at him. "Weird to say, too, I bet!"
Peter shot him a quick smile, then turned back to Micky. "Okay, man?"
There was a heavy sigh, then Micky let Peter lift Mirrydor into his arms. One final glance at the sleeping woman, and he was off -- flying so fast he was out of sight in seconds.
"Man," Davy whispered. "He has got it bad...."
Valerie walked by Peter's side and helped him tuck her into bed. "Why can't you just call Rob?" she asked, baffled.
"Rob and David don't have a phone." He couldn't stifle the smile at her expression. "David's a poet. He says his inspiration is stifled when he's at the world's beck and call."
"Aaah, I get it!" Valerie smiled. "So no phone!"
Peter's smile faded. "I just hope Micky makes it in time."
Micky was taking the fast way to Rob's house -- over the beach. He dipped low, slowed... prepared to land --
And was suddenly hit from behind with such force that he landed face-first in the sand, carving a foot-deep rut.
He twitched, and lay still.
George and Dave landed on either side of him. Dave turned him over, grinning at the sight of the slack features. "Finally!"
"Yeah!" George grinned. "Now maybe we'll get somewhere!"
Dave nodded. "Work your magic, persuasion-man."
George's grin grew as he cracked his knuckles, preparing to work his own brand of persuasion on Micky.
Continue On to Part Two.