Welcome to the world of Edison City, where the never-ending battle against the forces of evil includes everything from the Owl Bandit taking over the subway line downtown to the Antichrist trying to rewrite history aboard the HMS Titanic. Anything and everything is a possibility here, including flying sharks. Especially the sharks.
If you’re new here, catch up with the Edison City Index:
Previously, the Malevolent Med-Student is in a diner with Candystriper, his henchwoman-turned-genie, trying to decide whether to free her or make diabolical use of her power, when someone as yet unknown hurls a car right through the diner window…
Actions have consequences. This is as inevitable a law of the universe as is gravity. If one, as a small child, takes a cup of water and dumps it on one’s head to see what will happen, one will get wet. What goes up, whether it be balloon or brick, must eventually come down. And if one meets with a Lovecraftian horror in a diner in the hopes of locating one’s temporarily missing henchwoman, one must expect to encounter some of that horror’s friends. Or, even worse, the horror’s enemies.
The Malevolent Med-Student had just glimpsed a blur of metal hurtling towards him out of the corner of his eye when Candystriper grabbed him with her robot arm and dived towards the floor. He had no time to exclaim or ask why for in the next instant the car, a mid-size four-door sedan, came tearing through the space where they had just been, smashing the diner window, the dishes, the glasses, and everything else in its path to bits. The Malevolent Med-Student saw a tire flash past his eyes. Then there was a terrific CRUMP and a multitude of smaller smashing noises as the car slammed into the wall beyond them, along with all the other debris it had pulled with it.
“Are you all right?” the Malevolent Med-Student said to Candystriper as he rose shakily and reached for his Pharma-Death Beam. He couldn’t see anyone to blast at first. Then, suddenly, there was light. A figure, full of eyes and wings and faces, shone blindingly brilliant before them.
“Fear not,” it said in a voice that sounded like a whole collection of people all chanting together at an odd pitch. “I am not here for you.”
“What…” the Malevolent Med-Student gasped, “What in the-”
“Shush!” Candystriper said, clamping a hand over his mouth. Despite the being’s warning she was very much afraid, but she also had memories of Sunday School lessons she’d had as a child. Sure, mostly she’d sat in the back and doodled pirate ships on the bulletin, but once in a while she had paid attention, and she knew enough to know it wasn’t a good idea to say a swear around this particular kind of angel.
Professor Cthulhu, unfortunately, didn’t have that kind of sense, or had forgotten it long ago, for he chose that moment to return to the diner. “About that favor,” the Dread Academic burbled, lurching in through the doorway. “We find ourselves in a bit of a bind, actually: we wondered if you might-”
It was a day for not finishing sentence; the Professor was still working on his when light from the angel he had only just begun to register smote him clean through, banishing him from the planes of existence before he had time to utter even one last final wail. The angel then turned its mighty gaze upon Candystriper and her cowering superior.
She stared it down in an almost casual insouciance. “Hey, don’t look at us, we’re going clean. Right, boss?”
“Yeah,” the Malevolent Med-Student stammered, “Right, of course. Clean as the bald gentleman on the household supplies bottles. Absolutely.”
The light wavered skeptically. “Fine,” it said at last. “See that you do.” Then, gathering itself together, it disappeared in a final brilliant flash.
Candystriper giggled. “Yeah, you’re thinking of Mr. Clean, sir.”
“Who?”
“The bald guy. On the cleaning stuff. Nice forearms, though.”
“Whatever,” the Malevolent Med-Student said irritably. “I suppose we’ve really got to go legitimate now, unless you want that thing blasting us like it did the Professor!”
“Cool,” said Candystriper. “Hey, I wonder if we get to smite people now?”
The Malevolent Med-Student paused thoughtfully. “That…. is an interesting question, Candystriper! Quickly, to the Malpracticycle!”
They dashed away into the night, leaving the diner and its debris rapidly behind.