Mike O’Malley pulled at the collar of his tuxedo for the hundredth time tonight as Lucy and he were ushered in to the dining chambers of Dominique’s mansion. The room was massive, fifty feet wide and at least double that in length. The walls were solid mahogany, and several works of art lined the wall. He recognized a Picasso on the wall and another piece of art he thought might be Van Gogh, but the others he did not recognize. He had little doubt that they were originals and very, very expensive.

From the ceiling of the dining chamber dangled a massive chandelier. Made of solid crystal it dangled at least ten feet from the thirty foot ceilings. It measured even larger in diameter, at least fifteen feet.

Centered directly below the massive chandelier was a table that stretched half the length of the room. About a dozen men and women were already seated at the far end of the table. Several dozen chairs remained empty between Mike and that end of the table.

Lucy wore an evening gown that fell to just above her feet. Her entire back was left bare all the way down to the swell of her rear. Only a strap behind her neck and around her lower back held the dress to her body. In front it was cut in a V to just below her bosom, which made it uncomfortable for Mike to look her way.

While all the men at the table wore tuxedos similar to the Galante he wore, Mike noticed that Lucy was actually dressed rather modestly among the ladies. Several wore evening gowns that seemed glued to their bosoms (it was the only way they could ever possibly stay on). But most wore little more than slinky underwear: fishnet stockings, garters, a bustier, and long gloves.

Mike found himself confused. He knew that modern fashion meant a lot of skin but this was much even for him. The women were quite attractive, but he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable around all the naked skin. And even though he was used to some intermixing from his days in the circus, the number of African and Asian Americans took him by surprise. A lot had changed in sixty years.

“You’re staring.” Lucy’s whisper in his ear brought Mike’s attention back to her.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just not used to this is all. Up to a few months ago I was little more than a simple circus performer. Even as a mystery man I never amounted to much. All this fame… well… this kind of thing still keeps me a little off balance.”

“I understand. Take your seat. It will be okay.”

Mike nodded and walked to his seat at the far end of the table. His seat was the one closest to the large throne-like chair on the narrow side of the table. He sat and Lucy took the seat next to him.

A young woman with only a string connecting the inch-wide coverings over her breasts and crotch leaned down and poured them both a glass of wine as they waited for the arrival of their host. A few of the guests, mostly the men, made small talk amongst themselves. Mike sat and silently contemplated the massive changes in his life over the last few weeks.

One of the barely covered servers walked to the farthest end of the room and pulled a curtain aside to reveal a door. She kneeled to one side of the door as she held the curtain at her side. The five other servers rushed to join her in kneeling to either side of the door.

The door seemed to open of its own volition. A tall, statuesque black woman stood framed in the doorway. Her pants and brassiere, both made of crimson leather, clung tightly to her frame. A large fur coat, which Mike could only guess to be from a cheetah, fell to her knees and covered her arms and back. She walked gracefully on her three inch spiked heels in to the room. She moved to her throne and took her place at the end of the table.

“Welcome to the Chateau de Dominique. I am Dominique Desarzant. You may call me mistress.”

The other guests, including Lucy, answered her in perfect unison. “Good evening, mistress.”

She smiled as she turned to Mike. “And you must be the famous Fire-Eater. I have heard so much about you, Mister O’Malley. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“And the same to you, ma’am. It’s been a real honor for your company to pick me up and represent me like this.”

“Please you may call me Dominique or mistress. Ma’am just makes me sound like my mother. She was a dear old woman but she had too much of Haiti in her blood. She was never cut out for the American lifestyle.”

Mike nodded.

She reached over to him and placed her hand on top of his own. Mike started to pull away but thought better of it. A sudden feel of relaxation came over him. He looked up and gave her a smile.

Dominique smiled back. “But enough about me. I want to hear more about you, the famous living legend.”

“Well, I—” Mike suddenly stopped his attempt at modesty. He didn’t have time for modesty. “I’ve worked hard to get where I am today.” He proceeded to rattle off the tale of his battle with the Clown as the servers placed salads in front of each of the guests.

“My, oh my,” Dominique said. She slowly ran her hand up and down the back of Mike’s wrists. “I may be a powerhouse in the business world, but I still can’t imagine anything nearly as exciting as that. Tell me more.”

Mike continued with stories of his battles back during the war. Dominique listened intently as he regaled her with the time he battled a German tank. The servers cleared the salads away and replaced them with the entrée, braised lamb in raspberry sauce. Just like the salad before it, Mike ignored all but a few bites of it as he continued to rattle off his stories. He didn’t quite know what it was, but he just couldn’t stop himself from telling this highly attractive young woman everything she wanted to hear.

The desert, a tiramisu with vanilla ice cream, arrived just as Mike finished a story of his first battle with Nazi Fifth Columnists outside the small town of Riverview, Kansas. Dominique was now leaning in close to hear more of his story. Mike found himself leaning dangerously close to her as well. When the story ended, Dominique cut a piece of tiramisu with her fork and fed it to him. Mike laughed as he chewed the morsel. His eyes met hers.

Dominique licked her lips. “Perhaps you would like to retire with me to my chambers, Michael?”

Mike stumbled over his words as he rushed to respond. “Y-yes, Dominique.”

Dominique rose from her chair and offered Mike her hand. “Please, Michael. Call me mistress from now on.”

“Yes, mistress.” Mike rose from his seat. Dominique led him towards the doors. Mike turned briefly to look at Lucy. She gave him a knowing nod and smile.

Mike could only feel sheer bliss as he followed his mistress from the room.

*****

Gaius Manor, Italy
September 22, 2008, 6:24 a.m.

Ace Barlow woke early this morning, ready for a new day. After Lena’s rejection he spent most of a week moping in his room, acting like some kind of sad sack. He still loved her, still hoped she would come around. But at the same time, he knew it was time to get on with his life, no matter how hard that might be.

He started the day in the kitchen as he assisted Vittorio in preparing the supplies for the rest of the day. Vegetables needed chopped, fruits needed to be peeled and cored, meat needed to be seasoned and marinated. It was busy work, but it felt good to get his hands dirty for the first time in months. He threw himself in to the process with a renewed vigor he hadn’t felt since he rescued Dart from the American prison.

He could almost forget himself in the labor, forget the pain he put himself through for the past week. Forget Lena.

He cursed himself. Focus on your work. Focus on making a life for yourself here. I have plenty of time for romance in the future.

Even with the constant reminders to himself, he found it harder and harder to concentrate as he finished up with Vittorio. The butler thanked him, and Ace excused himself from the kitchen.

If the kitchen work couldn’t relieve his frustration, perhaps a day with his mentor could do so. They had shared everything while on the front lines in the war. Surely a day spent with Caius Martius could at least distract him from his thoughts. It could be like the old days again.

He turned left at the top of the stairs. His room was to the right along with those of both Vittorio and Vera, as well as several other guest rooms. The right wing held the master bedroom and two more guest rooms, which were both empty as far as he knew. Lena kept quarters elsewhere on the vineyard.

He had little reason to visit this wing in the past, but he knew the house well enough to pick out the master bedroom. He gave the door a light tap, but no one answered. He tapped again, still no response.

We’ve shared a bed in the past, Ace thought. I doubt he will be troubled by me waking him if he’s still asleep. Ace slowly pushed the door open.

He stepped in to the bedroom and was immediately taken by its size and grandeur. The room was at least four times the size of Ace’s room, which was the biggest on his wing. Most of the room was covered in red velvet from ceiling to floor. Several sofas of matching colors filled much of the empty space between here and the bed. A hot tub sat in front of the passage to the bath area, while a kitchenette lined the wall across from it. An entire family could easily live in the space reserved for one person.

The bed was far larger than the king sized one in his own room. It measured a good two or three feet wider at the very least. A massive mahogany headboard reached all the way up to the ceiling fourteen feet above. The bed was lined with crimson and black sheets as well as dozens of matching pillows. So many of them that Ace couldn’t even make out Martius’ form beneath the sheets.

He took a few steps more in to the room. “Martius? It’s me Ace. I need to talk to you.”

The sheets stirred and a figure rose up at his voice. It wasn’t Caius Martius.

It wasn’t Dart at all. The figure wasn’t even male.

Lena looked at him still confused by sleep. She pulled the sheets tightly around her naked form. “Ace?” Ace stepped back. His mind reeled at the sight before him. How? How could they do this to him?

“Ace! Ace, wait!”

Martius rose from the bed next to her as Ace continued to step back towards the door. The sheets fell away from him. He made no secret of his nakedness.

“Boy, what are you doing here?”

Fighting the tears that welled to his eyes, Ace turned and dashed from the room.

*****

Regency House Hotel, Singapore
September 22, 2008, 8:47 a.m.

Teresa Danville awoke from another less than restful night. Despite their age difference now, Douglas still found her attractive as ever. Their lovemaking did her old bones good, and she felt younger than she had in forty years.

Even in her late eighties she was still spry as most women twenty years her junior. She took care of her body over the years, watched what she ate, and kept up her exercise. She attributed her youthfulness to clean living and a healthy lifestyle.

She swung her legs down and on the floor. As she rose to her feet, she could barely feel the arthritis in her knees. Even clean living could only do so much, and her knees had started to go in her late fifties. But now they felt like they did long before that. As she stood, she found herself able to walk with an ease she hadn’t felt in years.

She walked across the massive bedroom suite to the bathroom. She turned on the shower as she pulled the tangled remains of her nightgown off her body. She felt a twinge between her legs. She was a little bit sore this morning, but thinking back to the night before she knew it was worth it. God, she couldn’t remember the last time she had sex that good. After sixty years it was easy to forget just how good Doug was in bed.

She never had been very good at the whole demure virgin thing. Back in her reporter days, she would do almost anything for a story. If that meant flaunting her wiles, or even using her skills in the bedroom, she would do it. Even before they married, she and Doug went at each other like jackrabbits. God, had those days been good.

She stopped herself in front of the mirror and gasped. She looked different. Very different. Her hair was fuller and longer. It was no longer white, but instead a darker gray. Her face was less lined, almost smoothed at the cheeks. The wrinkles that covered her body had tightened and her breasts sagged less than they had in forty years. Her legs were taut and well muscled, her thighs thick but smooth. The hair at the cleft of her legs had turned a dark brown. Even there, she hadn’t seen her natural brunette colors in years.

She didn’t know what was happening to her, but if she was forced to guess she could only say she was getting younger. Somehow, someway, the years had melted away from her.

She turned from the mirror and yelled in to the next room. “Doug!”

Somehow in the course of the night, everything had changed again. Terri did not know whether to be overjoyed or scared out of her mind. She could only continue to stare at herself in the mirror as her husband rushed in to the room.

*****

Outside Caer Alder, United Kingdom
September 22, 2008, 10:11 a.m.

After over a week of efforts to secure overseas transportation, London and Doctor Frost found a way to get all of them overseas. It took a privately chartered flight and a large sum of money from London’s account, but they made it to London. After a little over two hours travel northeast they arrived in the tiny town of Quidenham. After a night spent at an inn there, they set out this morning for Caer Alder, the hidden mansion of Mirror Man.

No one quite knew how old Caer Alder was, but it was famous among the mystery men of the forties for the difficulty it took in finding it. Through an elaborate array of mirrors, Dean Alder made his home invisible to the naked eye. Even now, sixty years later, no one knew the secret location of the manse.

Except for London.

They stopped over a dozen times to give London another chance to check his map. After about an hour of criss-crossing the narrow county roads, he called the car to a halt. Marcus stopped the car. London pointed at just another patch of land in the numerous fields of grass and groves of trees.

“It’s here.” London pushed open the passenger door and leaped from the rented Saab. He picked up a stone from the side of the road and hurled it towards the empty field. The stone flew through the air only to crack against something that was not there. In the midst of the field, just before another grove of trees began, they could see a small crack floating in the air.

Doctor Frost stood up beside London. “This is the place. Everybody out.”

They all tumbled out of the two-door Saab. Blackout bounded across the field, but stopped just short of the invisible wall. Frost and London surveyed the area as they followed their furry compatriot.

Ghost Woman couldn’t quite hold in the ominous sense of evil that hung over the moor. She reached out to Marcus. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. What would I do without you? She shook her head. No, I’m a strong woman now. I can love him, but I can also survive without him. Hand in hand they followed a few steps behind Doctor Frost and London.

Doctor Frost stopped by Blackout’s side. The furry metahuman sniffed at the base of the mirrors. Frost turned to London. “Well? How do we get in?”

London reached out his hand and touched the glass. “Ianua vas!” A few feet to his right, the invisible wall shimmered, and a door appeared. Empty space on either side of it, it looked just like a normal door. Plain wood, unpainted, in a matching frame with a gold-colored knob. London walked to the door and wiggled the handle. “All we need do now is break the lock and go inside.”

Ghost Woman looked to Marcus, and he looked back to her. “I can take care of the lock,” she said.

She walked up to the door. She concentrated and felt her body lose its consistency. Her appearance turned translucent as she reached for the door.

A burst of blazing gold light sliced down through her body. She fell back in shock. Her phased state had saved her life, but the sudden shock of the attack sent her sprawling down and in to the ground.

“Stand aside or I will destroy you all!”

The woman above wore the light green tunic and golden waist-length cape of Golden Girl, but that’s where all comparisons ended. Her body was older, and far better filled out than the eighteen year old. Her ears were long and pointed, elf-like except for the multiple ridges that crested down the enlarged lobe. But it was her golden skin that radiated even in the dreary skies of northern England that marked her as truly alien.

Doctor Frost raised his hands skyward. Shards of solid ice shot upward towards their attacker.

The woman turned her head. Beams of energy as bright as the sun melted the ice away as if it was nothing.

London activated the harness he wore across the midsection. The harness glowed momentarily as it hummed to life. London took two running steps forward before hurling himself skyward. He met the attacker several yards above the moor. He smashed a fist in to her face just as he reached the top of his jump. As he started to descend he reached out and wrapped his hand around her foot.

The golden woman struggled to break London’s grip. She unleashed another burst of energy. It ripped apart the ancient costume London wore, but he did not loosen his grip. He turned his attention downward for a moment.

“Everyone inside! Once you enter the door will vanish, and this thing won’t be able to enter.”

Ghost Woman struggled her way to the surface as Doctor Frost turned to her. “Do it,” he said. “Get us inside.”

“But what about London!”

“DO IT NOW!”

Ghost Woman turned back towards the door. She ghosted her body straight through the door. She found herself in some sort of strange castle. Twin staircases and twin halls twisted off the entry way. Down every passage she saw no sign of any doors, only mirror after mirror after mirror.

She turned back to the one door she could see and unlocked it. She yanked the door open. “Everyone inside!”

Marcus was the first to see and hear her. He hurled himself past her. Blackout and Doctor Frost followed him only a step behind.

In the sky, London struggled against the gold woman. She reached down and wrapped a hand around his throat. “Close the door!”

Ghost Woman moved back towards the door, but Doctor Frost threw it shut before she could make her way out.

“What are you doing?”

Doctor Frost just looked at her with his blank, faceless mask. “London knew what he was doing. He sacrificed himself so that we could uncover the secrets of this house. Now let’s do so before his sacrifice proves to be in vain.”

Ghost Woman silently looked to Marcus. He shook his head and moved to follow Frost as the armored man started down a hall. Ghost Woman looked back at the closed door once more before following them.