[May 5] [Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?/Legend of Zelda] Centennial Lady, chapter 1

[rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com]

Title: Centennial Lady; Chapter 1
Day/Theme: May 5; There are cracks in the universe
Series: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?/The Legend of Zelda: Oracle of Ages
Character: The Dying Informant (and company), Veran
Rating: PG13

Will be cross-posted to my journal


Author's note: This fic was heavily inspired by an RP with LuckyLadybug, which was, in turn, highly inspired by The lord of the Rings. As such, any similarities and references are intentional. The villainess is one of the more interesting villains of The Legend of Zelda series. As always, the characters aren't mine, and the story is. Thanks to LuckyLadybug for plot help!
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The Informant was whistling as he packed his bags. He and his close friends were heading to Vienna to investigate strange happenings: strange, dark mists, voices in the wind, and a woman’s screams.

But he wasn’t worried; they had heard that Eartha Brute had been seen in the area, and it seemed that she might be playing ghost to scare everyone off. The young agent was, however, annoyed; he had been forced to put an end to a rather intense game of extreme broom hockey with the Messenger in the alley.

“We’ll finish this when we get back,” he said to the Messenger. “And don’t let me hear you use jet lag as an excuse to stall.”

“Don’t let me hear you use that to explain your loss!” his surrogate brother retorted.

The Techies just shook his head in amusement, while the Inspector arched his eyebrows.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” he asked. “The last time you played extreme broom hockey, you ended up breaking three windows.”

“And one of them was Mrs. Pumpkinclanger’s,” the Techie added, recalling how she had screamed and yelled at them for days afterward.

“Fortunes of war,” the Messenger replied, with a shrug. “And this is war.”

“Well then, General, what will it take for you to surrender?” asked the Informant.

“I never surrender, Captain,” he assured him.

“And neither of you ever learn…” the Techie said.

“Oh, come on, Techie,” said the Informant, throwing an arm around his shoulders as they headed for their private ACME jet. “Why don’t you join in the fun? You can be my aide-de-camp.”

“Heeeey, no fair!” the Messenger said. He turned to the Inspector “If he joins his side, then you’re joining mine.”

“We never enlisted,” the Inspector replied, deadpanning.

“Nope, you were drafted,” the Messenger replied, cheerily climbing aboard the plane. He was soon absorbed in the construction of a card house, which was somehow not disturbed by the turbulence.

The Inspector’s eyebrows arched as he watched the Messenger work. The Techie absorbed himself on some latest additions to his handheld, and the Informant, determined to conserve his energy for broom hockey, took a nap.

The Messenger’s card house had reached a ridiculous size by the time the Informant began to suddenly awaken. His dreams weren’t troubling in the slightest, but it was that a woman’s voice was whispering to him.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she whispered. “I hope you’ll be able to help me…”

“Huh!?” the boy had blurted out, awakening.

The others looked in his direction.

“You okay?” asked the Techie, who was closest.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” he said. “I just had a weird dream. A woman was whispering to me.” He smirked. “Better me than you, huh?”

The Techie chuckled, going red at the thought.

“So did your new lady friend say anything of substance?”asked the Messenger, exchanging a suspicious glance with the Inspector.

“Does asking for my help count?” asked the youth. “It was like one of those old detective movies where the pretty girl runs in to the private eye’s office, begging for help.”

“The Mysterious Woman would’ve fit right in,” said the Inspector, his eyebrows arched.

“Only it wasn’t her… In fact, I couldn’t even see who it was…” the Informant shrugged. “Maybe it was just a crazy dream…”

“Or maybe you’ve caught the attention of a girl who communicates through telepathy,” Messenger grinned.

Further discussion was interrupted as the pilot announced that they were going to land. The Messenger sighed, folding up the trick card house he had been working on, which resulted in other three rolling their eyes.

The Techie glanced out the window.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been here,” he said. “Not since Double Trouble took Bollywood.”

“And they don’t even know Hindi…” the Informant mused. “Bakvaas, hai na…?”

“How many languages do you know?” the Inspector asked, impressed.

The boy shrugged.

“Enough to no longer need my pocket translator…” he said.

“You know, the way you pick up languages, you could help with advancing the software on those translators,” said the Techie. “We’re always trying to keep them up to date, after all…”

“Maybe we can work on that,” the Informant smiled. “It’ll be an interesting project… The new and improved ACME pocket translator… I’ll do it.”

He and the Techie high-fived.

“Great,” the Techie grinned. “Now all I have to worry about is being followed by the local wildlife…”

“Aw, come on,” said the Informant, smirking. “The animals follow you around because they like you. You shouldn’t be worried…” He trailed off as he heard the woman’s voice again.

“Ah, you have come! I am in the basement of the Raimund Theatre; you are the only one who can free me! And hurry, before that musclewoman damages the relic where my spirit is in!”

“Infy?” asked the Messenger, waving a hand in front of the boy’s face.

“Are you alright?” asked the Techie, concerned that he had started to space out.

“Yeah, but I must be dreaming again… I just heard her; she said that she’s in a trapped in some sort of relic in a theatre basement, and Eartha is trying to raid the place.”

“The Raimund theatre?” asked the Inspector, his eyebrows arched even higher.

“Yeah… How did you know?” asked the boy.

“That’s where the majority of the ghost activity has been occurring,” the older agent replied.

“Then that must be it; she’s been trapped, and was trying to draw attention to herself so that someone would free her,” said the Informant. “We’ve got to save her from Eartha and get her out of there…”

“Whoa,” said the Messenger, as they departed the plane. “How do you know that’s a good idea?”

“It could be a cry for help,” said the Techie. “But on the other hand…”

“What, you want me to ignore her and leave her to her miserable destiny?” asked the Informant, frowning.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that!” said the Techie, slightly hurt by his friend’s expression. “I’m just saying we need to be careful, especially if we’re dealing with spirits!”

“Look, we have to stop Eartha from doing whatever it is she’s doing,” said the Messenger, trying to change the subject. “So I say we go find her, slap the cuffs on her, and go from there. And if there is a lady ghost… Well, then, the theatre is the best place to start our search for Eartha anyway. And we’ll see about that ghost lady who contacted Infy.”

“I guess girl ghosts seem to like me…” sighed the Informant. “Those Civil War girls came to me for help, after all. Why wouldn’t this one?”

The Techie resisted retorting that they had nearly lost the young agent because he had spent too much time with those girls and had begun to slip into the spirit world himself. Perhaps he was growing cynical, but he did not like the idea of his younger friend and colleague associating with spirits at all. After all, the last thing he wanted was any harm to befall his friend.

Whether or not he realized or appreciated it.

***************************

It was a short journey to the Raimund Theatre, and the heavy footsteps in the basement signaled the presence of Eartha better than anything else.

“So how do you want to do this?” asked the Inspector. “We need to figure out a way to sneak up on her; the only way we’ll ever take Eartha is with the element of surprise--”

“HEEEEEEELP!” the weightlifter’s voice echoed from the stairway under the stage.

“I’d call that a surprise,” the Messenger cracked, though he was only half-joking.

The agents tore down the stairway to see Eartha cowering from her own bag of loot.

“There’s a ghost in that bag!” she exclaimed.

“Really…?” asked the Informant, approaching the bag as the Inspector slipped the industrial-strength handcuffs on the thief.

“Yeah; I was picking stuff up for Carmen, and suddenly, when I added a stone board to it, the bag grew cold and too heavy for me!”

The Messenger exchanged a glance with the Techie. Too heavy for Eartha? That sounded as plausible as the Techie chatting up girls.

“Strange…” said the Informant, lifting the bag effortlessly. “Seems fine to me…”

Eartha’s eyes widened, stunned as the Informant withdrew the stone board. It resembled an Ouija board, only carved out of granite, and a seal of three triangles was carved onto it, along with the letters and numbers.

“Ah, my rescuer!” the woman whispered, her voice coming from the slab. “At last!”

“How can you hold that?” asked Techie, his eyes widening. “That’s a solid piece of granite!”

The boy shrugged.

“It isn’t that heavy,” he said, holding it out to the Techie. “Here…”

The older agent tried to take it, but it was too heavy for him. He nearly dropped it, and the Informant managed to save it from hitting the ground.

“Careful!” the boy said, taking it back. “She’s trapped in here—that girl, I mean.”

“Yes, it is true,” the woman’s voice whispered to him. “But you can free me from this prison I’m in.”

The Informant stared transfixed at the stone slab, and the Techie and the others began to feel uncomfortable.

“Is she talking to you again?” asked the Messenger, uneasy about the whole thing.

The boy nodded.

“She’s trapped in the slab…” he said. “I think she wants me to help her out; that’s why she was contacting me”

The Techie’s shoulders slumped. He had an urge to break the slab on purpose; the Informant seemed obsessed with talking to this woman, whoever she was. And why was he not finding the slab heavy!?

“But why was she trapped in there?” asked the Messenger.

But the Informant wasn’t listening to him; the woman had spoken to him again.

“Please,” the woman was saying to him. “I was sealed in here, but you alone can help me out; there’s a large amethyst in that bag. Place it on the board and spell my name: V,E,R,A,N. Quickly, before I go mad in this prison! It hurts me… this seal… If I am trapped in here for much longer, my spirit might break and be destroyed!”

The young agent gasped. His heart was twisting for the woman; no one deserved that fate, and he had heard that it was possible for a spirit to be destroyed.

“She’s hurting!” the blond exclaimed, staring at his friends. “I don’t know why she was trapped in here, but she won’t last much longer.”

“I’d leave her in there…” huffed Eartha, retreating behind the Inspector, who glared at her. “I don’t like ghosts!”

“I’m not one to agree with Eartha, but she might have something going…” he said, keeping an eye on Eartha. He had never seen the strongwoman so upset before.

“And why would she come to you for help?” asked the Messenger.

“I’m with them,” said the Techie, placing a hand on the Informant’s shoulder. “Why would a good person be sealed in such a tormenting prison?”

The woman spoke again.

“Please help me!” she cried. “It takes a certain aura to break this seal, and when I sensed your presence, I knew that you were the only one capable of freeing me from this torment! I promise I’ll reward you if you let me out of here!”

The Informant gave an unreadable glance to the Techie before retrieving the amethyst from the bag of loot.

“For the same reason the bad guys are always out to get us…?” he offered. “Come on; show a little compassion!”

“I’ve got compassion!” the brunet retorted, staring into the eyes of his cherished friend. “I’ve got compassion for you! That’s why I want you to be careful and consider everything before doing something like this. We’ll take the slab back to ACME and have Mystic-Net look over it first. That way, we’ll be sure nothing can go wrong.”

“She might not have time!” the Informant shot back, much harsher than he intended to.

The Techie flinched, but stuck with his instincts.

“What if she’s not being entirely truthful?” he challenged. “She could be waiting for someone to take advantage of--”

“Oh, so now I’m a sap, is that it?” asked the Informant icily, taking a few steps back from him.

“I never said that!” said the Techie.

“You know, Infy, I think he has something here,” said the Messenger.

“Maybe we should think this through,” agreed the Inspector.

The Informant glanced at his friends; the Messenger and the Inspector were concerned, while the Techie was standing right next to him, uncharacteristically fiery-eyed.

And then the woman screamed in agony, returning the boy’s attention to the slab.

“She’s in pain!” he cried. “If you could hear her, you’d understand!”

He grabbed the amethyst, bringing it to the stone. The Techie’s expression turned from one of determination to immense worry.

“Wait--” he said, reaching out to his friend.

But the Informant had begun to spell out Veran’s name on the board, and no sooner had he finished than did the amethyst flashed with a blinding light. The stone Ouija board rose into the air and began to crack and splinter into several pieces, which went flying as the light from the gem grew even brighter. The pieces were sent scattering in all directions as energy radiated from the break, sending the other agents flying against the walls of the room.

“What have you done!?” the Techie cried out, holding up his arms to shield himself from the flying granite chunks.

The light cleared, revealing the woman’s spirit. The Informant blinked, recoiling slightly; he had been expecting the spirit of a normal woman. But this woman was dressed in an odd style, unlike anything from history. And her skin was a visible shade of teal. But she regarded the young agent with a smile.

“What have you done…?” the Techie repeated. Only now, he was whispering the words.