Men of Mystery

The Interview

Arriving at 501 Main Street Dolores went up to apartment 4e, and knocked on the door. It opened to reveal a surprised Ned Whisman standing in the entryway.

"Where's Craig Crent?" he asked.

Dolores strode in defiantly. "Craig was called away on other assignment. I'm here in his place."

Whisman grimaced at the unexpected changed but closed the door.

"Do you expect Cerulean here soon?" Dolores asked.

"He should be here at any moment," replied Whisman. He put his hands behind his back and snapped his fingers.

A moment later, a man dressed in blue climbed in through the window.

"Cerulean!" said Whisman.

"I've come as you requested," said the man in blue. He glanced at Dolores. "Is this the reporter who doubts I agreed to make you my manager?"

"Yes," said Whisman. "Perhaps you should demonstrate your super strength to banish any doubts."

"Gladly," said the other man.

Dolores watched the newcomer closely. She saw no recognition in his eyes. Surely he hadn't forgotten about her. And his voice was all wrong. No, there was something fishy here.

A heartbeat later, the man in blue lifted up a desk over his head. "See how easy it is for me to lift this desk?" He set it down and picked up a steel bar lying nearby.

"And this bar of steel..." He bent it in two. "... Means nothing to me."

"Convinced?" asked Whisman."

"No," said Dolores. "This whole thing is a scam and I can prove it." She lifted the desk over her head. "The desk is made of cardboard." She put it down and straightened out the bar of metal.

"And this bar of steel is made of aluminum." She put that aside too.

"But worst of all, I've met Cerulean and you ..." She pointed at the man in the blue costume. "...Act and sound nothing like him."

She turned and began to storm out. "I'll be leaving this unsavory place now."

Whisman caught her wrist. "No, I don't think so. You know too much."

Dolores tried to pull away. "Let go of me."

Whisman shook his head. "You're too smart for your own good. We can't afford to let you leave here alive."

He grabbed her arm now with his other hand and began pulling her towards the open window. He turned to the man in blue. "Help me get her to the window. We'll throw her to her death."

"That's murder," said the other man.

"It's either her," said Whisman, "or our chance to make a fortune on Cerulean's name."

The fake Cerulean shrugged. "We'll call it an accidental suicide."

Together the two men picked up Dolores and tossed out the window. Screaming she plummeted to the street below only to be caught a moment later by Cerulean. He landed on the ground seconds later.

"Stay here," he commanded Dolores. "I've got something to attend to." Instantly he jumped up and entered Whisman's apartment through the open window.

Frightened by the site of the real Cerulean, Whisman and his accomplice ran out of the apartment and into the elevator.

Cerulean followed them, ripping open the steel doors and grabbing the cables that made the lift move. Slowly he pulled the elevator car back up.

"Get out," demanded the man in blue, "before I let this car drop."

The two men obeyed crawling up onto the fourth floor. Cerulean instantly scooped them up and then jumped out Whisman's apartment window to the street below. Gathering Dolores in his arms, the foursome hurtled to the local police station.

"Take them inside," he said to Dolores. Press charges of attempted murder."

"My pleasure," said the reporter. "But when will I see you again?"

"Why does that matter?"

"Because I'm in love with you."

"Then let's leave that in the hands of fate." He jumped away and out of sight.