[Co-written by many authors, edited accordingly. This post backtracks sightly.]
Some time ago, back at the heart of the Devalaya...
While chaos flashed around him, Gunnar Maelstrom saw a silhouette he instantly recognized. She stood, as if waiting for him, but remained just out of reach. He signaled his co-captain, a tall German named Kraus, and an Azeri idealist called
Emil to follow with him.
The feminine shadow led them up to the ceiling, past winding steps that became smaller as they ascended.
At the top was a surprisingly large hall. Gold gleamed from wall to wall. Painted pillars supported interlocking blocks of basalt held in place by gem-encrusted capstones.
The mirrored floors were smooth black marble. Following a path of snakeskin tiles interlaced with ebony and gold brought his eyes to the woman he pursued. He saw her in a dress, simple but timeless, its length draped over her body as if made with infinite golden links.
In Grecian sandals, her crossed legs extended to the stepped platform that elevated a crystalline throne. Lacquered nails draped upon each armrest. He could not see her eyes because they were closed, but he could still feel them watching him. Through the fog, he thought he saw her smile, and took it as an invitation.
Kraus cautiously trailed behind their boss while Emil strode with moderate insolence.
As the Professor stepped closer, the woman awoke. Light in the room painted her irises kaleidoscopic. In peripheral vision, the gold that lit the chamber began to dim. Temperatures cooled. The illusionary garment she wore shifted to a modern graphene-black. Sandals turned into tactical boots.
She rose to stand, calm but not entirely steady. By this time all that surrounded them were stone, and her main audience appeared amused.
Cavernous condensation overhead fell to the floor, interjecting the pause with melodic drips.
“Have you been here all this time, my dear?” Maelstrom scoffed with a heavy exhale. Lowering to tap his knuckle against the floor, he tested for hidden chambers but found nothing, “What did you do with the gold?”
He waited for her to speak, but she remained infuriatingly silent.
“Who is she?” Quietly, Kraus asked the Azeri next to him.
“Carmen Sandiego,” Emil confidently whispered back. He had seen her in a video feed, back at the zoo, when the deal was made. She was captivating enough on screen, but as the young man picked at an itch on his chin, he decided that she was even better looking in person.
The woman’s eyes lowered to the stone chair. They flickered momentarily with conflict, and Gunnar Maelstrom translated her subtlety as jealousy. That throne was not something she would easily give up.
“Why are you alone, Carmen?” He stepped closer. Hungry eyes outlined her shape, and for the moment, he mused; “Wasn’t I right, all along? You had a thirst for this, maybe even more than I,” he paused for an ode to nostalgia, “But if you had joined me instead of stolen from me,
min kjære, you’d be free. Now, you’re trapped like some holy figurehead awaiting the pyre.”
Again, silence.
“Look at us! Back in the battlefield!” he grinned before speaking the next phrase slowly, “My, my, how you have grown.”
Not a sound came from her. This testing of patience only gave him fuel. He had waited a long time to be so close, but all his meticulous plans for this moment were pushed from his mind by the singular desire to prolong it. For the first time, this woman was tangible.
He moved closer, stopping at arm’s length when her eyes rose to his.
“
Gunnar,” she reasoned, “
There’s still time to leave this place.”
The audacity! It made him smirk. The way she spoke his first name showed strategy. She wanted his undivided attention to deliver the warning. There was still time, she said, but time was the one resource he had over her.
“
Jeg har savnet deg,” he whispered. It was true, he had missed her. So much of what he built was to keep her fate intertwined with his. But while she was still playing the good girl, he was no longer a believer.
“Step aside,” The Norwegian’s seriousness lowered his voice.
She stood her ground, “
I don’t think I can do that on good conscience.”
“Conscience?” he held a cruel grin, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten who you are.”
Very slightly, her head tilted, “
I am no longer nineteen, Doctor.”
Those words shot crisp reality into his cloud of nostalgia. She was still nineteen to him. Her youth and brilliance won her a place in his heart. He wanted to guide her personally. He wanted, more than anything, to mold her. Taking a step back, he could see more clearly that she had come into her own. And that between then and now, he had no part to play in her ascent. A darkness covered his eyes.
“Your charades,” his muscles tensed, “it must be so easy for you.” A quick arm lunged to grab her. But she foresaw his advance and caught his trajectory.
“
You’re wrong,” Carmen contradicted and pushed him into the chair, “
It is never easy.”
Once his back struck the arch, the Norwegian could not move. Serpentine energies rose from behind and seemed to wrap around his body and mind. There was no way to understand what was happening, except to ask. The answers he received were mesmerizing. He began to see things… as far as his desires could take him.
Disembodied voices spoke to his greed. He asked for gems and they provided. The room around him glittered. He wanted more and the temple opened before his eyes the sixteen vaults far under his feet. Layers of gold were buried with seawater, and he sought for endless ways to free the drowned treasury.
“
Was passiert mit ihm?” Kraus demanded in German, befuddled, “What’s happens?”
“She’s won, the bet,” Emil’s mouth was wide open. “Winner takes all,” he quoted.
“
It doesn’t matter,” Carmen interjected. In a calmer voice, she attempted to explain, “
he’s not leaving that chair,” but fell short of executing the right words to relay how she had set this trap. In a breath, she moved on to the matter at hand, “
Can one of you operate the Orca?”
Kraus nodded, reluctantly, “She is my ship.”
“
Then gather the rest of your team and—”
“No, wait, it matters!” The younger man suddenly became the thief’s unlikely champion, “The Professor agreed to a deal,” he told the German, and then returned to the woman, “you have won this deal.”
Gunnar Maelstrom reacted from his throne with a muted shout that developed into laughter.
Carmen felt a rush of air, but nothing touched her. Kraus and Emil, on the other hand, were not so lucky. Both dropped to their knees. Emil called to her for help, a glaze of asphyxiation coated his eyes as he struggled for breath. Reactively, the thief placed a palm on his chest.
“
That’s enough,” she spoke upon contact, and within seconds, both men inhaled frantically. The temple followed her wishes. She wanted to ensnare one and protect the others, so it pulled the man in the chair deeper until he was silent.
Kraus’s bloodshot eyes stared back at her in terror while Emil gathered himself to stand. She took their hands. Thick vines, large as tree trunks, covered the throne room’s perimeter. They became animated, shutting off previous openings and leaving one exit.
“
Come,” prompted the lead.
Both men let her guide them. When they passed through the door, sentient plants made one final twist, closing off access to the throne.
“That is you?” Emil asked Carmen in the dark some distance away, “you are the one to move the trees... over there?” a glow moth flew in front of him and he became distracted, exclaiming something almost childlike.
“She controls the temple,” the taller man declared what he observed, “she put the Professor in that chair so she can take his mind.” Then he looked to the woman, “I am right?”
She neither affirmed nor denied, but shook her head to reflect that he was not entirely wrong.
“
I don’t know if you’re right,” she elaborated, “
but yes, what happened in there was by design. The throne is intrinsic to the temple. It provides whatever its occupant desires.”
“Then he desired to kill us,” Kraus rubbed his neck, “How did you stop him?”
“
I apologise, I haven’t figured out the mechanics,” she professed, “
Earlier, I wanted peace and then light. I received both respectively, but indirectly.”
“Indirectly?”
“
Peace was achieved by transporting me from one location to another, and light came in the form of the glowing wings.”
“Ah,” the man listening watched an insect fly by, “Then you have given the Professor some of this power.”
“
In exchange for time,” her pace slowed, “
I know what it’s like in that chair, and I had hoped…” she paused to recount how quickly the throne quelled her self-proclaimed nemesis, “
I had hoped that once I commanded the temple to show Gunnar its treasures, his greed would keep him there, just long enough.”
“Long enough for you to win?”
“
Long enough,” she corrected, “
that we may achieve peaceful resolution without senseless violence.”
The German stopped walking, inhaled and looked her over.
“I am Kapitän Jurgen Kraus,” he introduced himself, “When you are ready, come to the Orca,” his accent was thicker, “
Sammeln Sie Ihren Preis, Chefin.” He referred to her as ‘boss’ and indicated her victory.
She nodded to accept.
“
In that case, Jurgen, would you take the Orca to dock near Negombo, Sri Lanka?”
It was an unusual request, but he had served much stranger masters. The captain agreed before shaking hands. He understood they would split paths here.
Emil, playing with the moth, began to half-rap an Azeri tune about butterflies.
“Emil! Let’s go,” Jurgen Kraus called to his crewmember, but something stalled his words. In seconds, he keeled and stumbled to the ground.
The younger man stopped his song, “Is he dead?”
Carmen knelt beside the German and exhaled in relief, confirming signs that he was not dead.
“This place is strange,” Emil’s lazy gaze followed the moth as it flew away. “Oh, yes, the Plague Doctor!” he tapped her arm. His eyes were wide, as if he had made an important discovery, “He’s a spy!”
Before she could respond, the Azeri rolled and slumped against stone. Carmen checked his pulse. It was strong, like Kraus’s. The prior asphyxiation may have caused this loss of consciousness, but she suspected something else.
Momentarily, she closed her eyes. While she sought answers from the temple in a series of focused thoughts, an electronic beep caught her attention. It was a chime all too familiar—an ACME communicator.
