Post by Admin on Nov 25, 2020 11:45:51 GMT
The Clowns of Crime
Introduction
San Francisco's first two mystery heroines meet again…
Setting
San Francisco, Ca. : December 1, 1949
Fossa to the Rescue
Fossa, the mystery heroine identity of nightclub singer Elinencia Ralaivao, raced through the night on her big, heavily-customized electric motorcycle, which she called her 'Silent Steed'. 'I guess I ought to add a siren of some kind,' she thought, 'for those times when I need people to get out of the way. Maybe one that growls like a fossa! I'll have to remember to talk to Thayne about it. Electrical stuff is more up his alley than mine.' Thayne Bonner was her manager in her civilian identity, and co-inventor of many of the gadgets mounted on her bike.
Elinencia Ralaivao  | Post image of Fossa here |
She spun the bike through a tight turn in the road, a turn which would have wrecked any bike that didn’t have built-in gyroscopic stabilizers. “I sure hope I get there in time to help KyLynn!” she whispered into the wind. “If only she doesn’t do something foolish and try to take on that whole gang all by herself before I can get there!”
Kylynn McKenna was the secret identity of the Red Lynx, San Francisco's 'other' feline-powered hero. (Well, actually, a fossa isn't technically a cat... but she was tired of explaining that to everyone she met!) The two women didn't work together often, and Fossa was much less well-known, having only appeared on the San Francisco scene recently. But they occasionally made contact via special shortwave sets built by Thayne. Tonight the Red Lynx had called Elin to let her know that she had located the gang of clown-themed criminals that had become known in the San Francisco papers as ‘The Circus of Crime’. Fossa had had some earlier encounters with the gang, and when the Red Lynx had spotted them breaking into a jewelry store downtown, she'd decided to call the younger heroine and let her in on their capture. Now, Elin was racing to the scene, and she’d be there any second!
Kylynn McKenna, the russet-clad woman of mystery known as the Red Lynx, was in big trouble. There were only five of the villainous clowns, and after she’d called Fossa, she’d decided she could take out five by himself – but she’d been wrong. Because it wasn’t actually 5 men she was facing – she was fighting robots. And getting the snot kicked out of her. Her signature claws had shredded their costumes, but weren't having much effect on their alloy skins. They didn’t have any fighting skills, and she could easily land powerful punches which might jar them back a half a step, but they weren’t damaged in any way and they just kept coming. Her hands and feet were battered and bruised, and she could no longer keep them back out of striking range. She was being overwhelmed and lambasted when Fossa raced up.
The battered, bruised, and barely conscious Red Lynx tried to shout a warning to the arriving mystery heroine, but she was unable to utter more than a hoarse croak. But Fossa could see in the dark at least as well as the Red Lynx, and she saw something the more experienced heroine had missed. There was a sixth clown, standing idly in the shadows of a cross street, calmly flipping a handful of brightly colored balls back and forth between his hands in complex changing patterns as he observed his fellows administrating a dreadful beating to the famous heroine.
Fossa ignored the beleaguered Red Lynx and careened at top speed directly at the observer, who was just beginning to realize that he’d been detected. One of Elin's inventions, a tube mounted on the front of the bike, spat a tongue of fire, and a weighted, metal-stranded net unfurled as it flew. Before the clown could move, it slammed into him, then wrapped tightly around him. With his arms pinned to his sides, he could no longer keep the balls moving, and they fell to the ground. And the robots pummeling the Red Lynx simply stopped moving.
After that, the wrap-up was simple. It turned out that the observer had been controlling the relatively unsophisticated robots through radio transmitters in the balls; subtle variations in the flight pattern of each ball had given just enough direction to their primitive mechanical brains for them to fight.
Kylynn was a little miffed with the younger heroine, and a little mystified about how she’d known what to do to save the day. After all, Fossa had totally ignored the robots whaling the tar out of her! “How’d you know he was the controller? If you’d been wrong, I might have died!”
“But I wasn’t and he was, and I guess that means I saved your life - you’re very welcome!” Fossa replied, a little exasperated. Then her voice dropped to a confidential whisper, so the battered Red Lynx had to painfully bend closer to hear her. “Actually, I was just taking your advice from one of our training sessions. And as usual, you were right! You told me: ‘When you’re in a deadly fight, always go for the jugular.’”