The Gyroscope

The Gyroscope
When Vince first came to the Class, (Allow me to explain, I mean for it
to be capitalized, because that is how it is said and referred to--The
Class.) he assumed it would be like every other karate class he had been
in. That it would be cold, dry, and highly competitive.
The master raised his head. What was it? The gyroscope that seemed to
accompany the Master everywhere floated swiftly to Vince's feet. The golden
machine whirred, and jumped into the student's outstretched hand.
"Sir," Vince began waveringly, "is this yours?"
To this the Master replied, "Ask the Gyroscope yourself. I am sure it
will answer."
"Gyroscope,"asked the boy, "are you the Master's?"
It whirred, and whirred, but Vince could hear it say "Yes," in a
plaintive tone.
"Do you talk to the other kids?"
"Nope," the machine answered, "Only those who are worthy."
"Worthy?" Vince asked the old man.
"The purest of heart can speak to the gyroscope, and even, in extreme
cases, have their own item that can save them from utter peril, and hence,
the Class, in which we learn to use these items. That¹s only happened a few
times. It¹s been a while. Nobody¹s been so pure as to get this one, until
today."
"Today? What's today?"
"Follow."
The Master rose. The Class gasped. The Master hardly ever stands up
during class. He half shuffled, half- hobbled to a small oak desk in the
corner with a key engraved in the drawer, but no drawer handle. Vince ran
his finger over the key. The drawer opened with a whimpering creak to
reveal the armor that would protect him, or a weapon that would defend him.
"A heart on an armband is supposed to save my life?"
"Yes," replied the Master in a nearly smart-alecky tone. "Not just a
heart, you know. It is pewter, after all."
The Class laughed.
One of the Students, (also capitalized, thankyouverymuch) Sherice
McClayne, said "A heart?! You're a boy! And even I got a gold pendant!
That's ridiculous!"
"So are you," Vince retorted
"I wouldn't," Sherice re-retorted, "My dad's headmaster at YOUR academy.
Presumably the Wyvernne Academy, no other school in town."
Vince shuddered. He didn't go to school. He never had. He was poor.
Dirt poor and a runaway, also. He knew what happened when the McClaynes get
their slimy hands on runaways.
§ § §
Speaking of the Wyvernne Academy, several miles from Vince's dojo,
something dreadfully sinister was afoot.
This was Adrienne Morgan's cave. Dark. Silent as a tomb. That is,
until the acrid metallic shriek of chalk on a blackboard pierced the air.
Class at Wyvernne had begun. It wasn't Adrienne's cave anymore. It was
the steely white imprisonment that held her and a thousand others captive
against their will till 3 in the afternoon. It was silent, all except the
screaming chalk, dead silent. It was harsh, with silver white wall and not
a window to be had. It was bare. The teachers were strained and robotic,
as though they were scripted. Adrienne suspected the distracted feeding of
facts as a ruse
§ § §
Vince tried to hide the fact that his weapon was a stretchy band with a
pewter heart. Over the stretchy band was a Sk8r wristband to hide the
cursed gift. The Students noticed how Vince wasn't 100%. One of the
smaller ones asked if he even got an item from the Master. Sherice seemed
to torment him every evening with her jeers.
"You never did get a real item. That was just Master pitying you. I,
however, got real powers. See?"
She drew a gold chain from her uniform, at the end of which was a
pendant with the school seal engraved on it. Assuredly, anyone with that
seal had some real power that had nothing to do with karate, as the seal
belonged to Wyvernne's elite
§ § §
Adrienne trudged to her P.E. class, as myriad thoughts and
suspicions raced through her mind. Then she remembered. Today was fitness
test day. Her heart sank. She wasn't so clumsy, but when it really
counted, those inadvertent tortures positively screamed futility.
"How do. It's a great day for you!" The standard greeting from May
Reynolds, the seemingly kind but underlyingly sinister gym teacher. She was
old, fiftyish, with red hair and those goofy wingy-tip glasses. "Your turn
on the Sit-&-Reach."
Adrienne slumped over to the block miserably and sat down. Her
legs hurt already. Adrienne desperately pulled her hands to their meager
measuring line.
"Zero," May intoned.
Adrienne reached again.
"One."
Again.
"Negative one."
Last time.
"Two." Ms. Reynolds's voice seemed to indicate lack of faith in her former
favorite student. Report your score to Mark, over there."
Mark McClayne looked older than he was, a bulky fifteen. Not at all
like his slim, dark, brooding father, Ben McClayne, who looked rather well
for his age, 53.
§ § §
"You owe the Merlin Tavern seven dollars, sah," a butler's nasal
voice stated.
"Well then," Ben McClayne muttered to himself. "I shall have to pay
them a visit, but not now. I have urgent business to attend to."
He slid a disc into the CD player behind him.
"Ahhhh, jazz," sighed Ben in his light Scottish accent. "The
thinking man's music." He sat at his desk, unsure of what to do until he
found some paperwork, which by nature can be soothing to the mind.
§ § §
Ben looked up at the clock. It was seven o'clock. The Merlin
Tavern closed at nine. Oh, well, he thought to himself. Might as well get
this over with before I get distracted again.
He rose, left his neat-as-a-pin office, and descended the stairs.
Ben drove off in his late model sedan to the Merlin Tavern where he took a
seat in the back of the restaurant. Three others sat down at the table with
him. One of them was May Reynolds. The other two were odd men in suits,
one, fairly old, with fair hair, a curtly trimmed beard, the other, young,
clean-shaven, with short hair.
"Do sit down, Ms. Reynolds, Arthas, Arbuthnot. I trust your days have
been enjoyable since we last met?"
"Indeed they have," said bearded Arbuthnot, in his deep voice.
"Yes indeedy," said the other.
"Arthas, do shut up," Arbuthnot quipped.
"Let's all eat, old bean," said Arthas to Ben in his reedy English
accent.
Like a signal, the four sat down and began chattering in animated
whispers, like suit-wearing chipmunks.
"Is everything going according to plan?" Arbuthnot asked.
"Don¹t doubt me," retorted Ben edgily.
"The Federal Control Division has reason to doubt you, McClayne. You
remember the......"
"Enough! I didn't come here to relive the failures of the 1980s." Ben,
aggravated, barely managed not to shout.
"Why forget? Tybalt Duncan isn't going to," May interjected.
"It's people like you, Maybelle," Ben began, breathing heavily, "that
ruined the 1986 project. Duncan is dead and so is his family, if the
Scarlets have done their jobs."
"Then everything will proceed as planned?" Arthas calmly queried.
"Yes."
§ § §
Vince was walking to the local cafe when he felt the presence of someone
sinister nearby. He subconsciously slid his Sk8r band away from his woven
armband. The pewter heart glistened in the setting sun. Vince turned
around. In a dark alley behind him, he could just barely make out a red
scarf.
"Deuce," Vince muttered. "Scarlets."
Slowly, the scarf gave way to a hand, and then to a whole person, a
short, glamourous woman in fact, wearing a red dress, and in time, the
strange, ghostly ballet revealed her two lackeys from the sheer darkness,
like walking puddles of blood.
"Didn't we tell this squirt to, and I quote, 'not come back?'" Philly,
the man to the left of Scarletta, the gang leader said in his caricature of
a Brooklyn accent.
"I believe we did," said Scarletta. She was an olive skinned, dark
haired girl of seventeen who dyed her hair a heavy burgundy, but the roots
were coming in. She, also, had a Brooklyn accent. The other, however, was
from Kentucky.
"Huh," he began, "di'n't you say he'd better not come back fer a long,
long time?"
"Yes, I did, Doug. How long's it been?" Scarletta asked huskily.
"Um, like, two hours, I guess."
Philly picked up a stick.
"No, no, not now, Phil, I want to. You can have the next one, I
promise. I want to make this personal," Scarletta said nonchalantly. She
took the stick and said to Vince, "If I said it once, I said it a thousand
times. DON¹T LET NONE O' THEM BLUE DEVILS IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD!"
"Huh? Whatever you said, I¹ll do better next time."
"Look, squirt. Over there."
Sure enough, a boy in a blue tee shirt was playing with a yo-yo. He was
the newest member of the notorious gang, the Blue Devils. The only thing
they were notorious for was fighting with the Scarlets, who were all feared
assassins.
"Now as I was saying," Scarletta raised the blunt club high in the air.
"Halt!" shouted the boy in blue. He stepped between Scarletta and
Vince.
"Huh?!" Vince and Scarletta mumbled in unison. They, befuddled, heeded
the boy's instructions. Then, she struck. Both collapsed. Vince could tell
the boy in blue had been hit hard. Really hard, with a baseball bat.
"Don't worry," the latter muttered. "I'm faking." Either he was really
good or he really was hit so hard as to kill him.
"Remember me, I'm Tybalt Duncan. Find McClayne."
Tybalt was out. The End, at least for him.
Vince rose to his very intimidating four foot three inches.
"Maybe we should hit the pavement?" asked Philly warily, who, in fact
was a decent three inches shorter.
"Fine. Ok," Scarletta answered dully.
"Well, Scarletta, should I take care of him?" Doug asked.
"Yeah." She gave him the bat. Doug rendered Vince unconscious with a
swift beating.
§ § §
Adrienne was also walking home that night in the same neighborhood. It
was, after all, a small town. Vince was there on the ground, next to
Tybalt. She paid the latter no mind. The police would take care of him in
due time. It¹s not that kind of story. The former looked as if he had been
beaten unconscious, but there was not a scratch on him, and the part of his
arm next to his armband was glowing greenish blue.
"This is wicked. Too dang weird. I don't like that armband."
Vince¹s eyelids flickered. "Huuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh?" he murmured.
"Good," Adrienne said firmly. "You're alive."
"Whnhh? Oh. Yeah." Vince looked to his side, where it ached a little.
"No scratches?"
"Yeah, weird, I know. Here, I'll walk you home, uh..."
"Vince. Just Vince."
"Well, okay," Adrienne giggled, "Just Vince. Where do you live?"
"Drop me off at the Clinic-place-thing-whatever they call it on Third
and Vine."
"You sure?"
"Doubtless, er..."
"Adrienne Morgan."
They walked in silence. The dark, looming warehouse that was Wyvernne
Academy hovered a few blocks away, like a giant tin sentinel.
"What's that big metal place up ahead?" asked Vince.
"That's where I go to school," replied Adrienne flatly.
"Looks miserable."
"Well, it might be messed up, but it's my school, and I take pride in
it." Vince knew he had it a sore spot. "I really think you can make it to
the Convenient Care on your own. Later." Adrienne strode off, furious.
"But, I.............." Vince faltered.
He gazed at the monstrous tin and cinderblock school; its massive
concrete steps, the windowless walls, the glass doors, the evil green glow
coming from inside. Wait. That's not right. Vince thought to himself. He
crept up for a closer look. He wasn¹t seeing things. The inside floor had
a trapdoor that led under the school. It was strange. It was vile. It
was, Vince guessed, the principal's office. (After all, he hadn't been in
one.) Why, the principal was even there, as well as a teacher,
(one can tell, at the hour Vince saw her.) with red hair and goofy wingy-tip
glasses, and two executive looking guys, one young, one old. And there was
a kid who was getting hauled in.....for something really bad, the way they
were handling him, all rough and uncivilized. Vince, (as men will often
do,) made a split second decision. That was Tybalt in there.
"Hang on, dude, I'm going in."
He tripped and stumbled through the shrubbery to the door and in. Wow,
he thought to himself. That was easy. He slid down the trap door. Down,
and down again he went, down the winding stairs. Vince felt that he could
go on no longer. How long had he been going? He glanced at his neon blue
watch. Five minutes had passed. He started walking again Was he lost?
Where was Adrienne? If he got lost down here, would she save him?
Finally, Vince¹s feet reached the last step. It was a laboratory. A
genuine CIA or FBI laboratory. Who cares which one. He gasped. It was
just like a movie.
§ § §
Adrienne rubbed her eyes. Home was, as yet, a long way off. Her
parents were long asleep by now. The moon was rising. Something was
honestly fishy tonight at the academy, and Vince would be no part of it. Or
so she thought. She instinctively turned around. Spotlights darted across
the sky, mingled with something very odd coming from the particular side of
town she had just left.

§ § §
Ben paced around the room, staring menacingly at Tybalt.
"You!" he growled. "I thought you were dead!"
"I thought you were smarter than hiring the dimmest assassins in the
U.S. A. " Tybalt shot back
"I thought you were cheeky, and I still do."
"I thought you had given up on that lemon of a concept to control the
minds of children for your own political gain."
Ben smacked his forehead and fumed. Tybalt had hit a sore spot. He
kept digging.
"Well, now, didn¹t that work so well, did it? I almost expected that
intruder behind you to run up and attack."
"Wha?" Ben turned around.
Tybalt spat a piece of candy at the large and presumably expensive laser
that every secret lab HAS TO HAVE.
Fshooooo! The mainframe was scorched, but other than that, nothing was
maimed. Vince decided to lay low, waiting for backup, even though he knew
it wouldn¹t come.
Or so he thought. Adrienne sneaked up behind him, and Vince nearly
screamed, but she muffled him in time. She and Tybalt exchanged glances.
"Keep him going!" she mouthed. He sent a subtle wink in her direction,
not nearly more than a flutter.
"Why, I as a 12 year old could think something like that up!"
"Ah, but Tybalt, at 12 you were the victim, not the mastermind. See,
this is how it works, because I have you electromagnetically bound to this
brain warper, which doesn¹t have the kinks worked out and still turns brains
to mush, I may now begin the age old ritual of telling you my plan while
watching you struggle in a seemingly inescapable trap.
"In 1984, the CIA devised a plan to bring the unruly rock and roll
generation back under control. Or, to put it metaphorically, to take the
big hair style and bring it back to the age of slicked back hair and the
curling of hair to make it flip out at the end."
Vince noticed something. He hadn¹t taken any geometry classes but the
key to the big, expensive, aforementioned laser was shaped like a heart,
shallowly cut, and needed to be held in with some sort of strap.
"I was put in charge of this plan, with three others: John Arthas,
Mark Arbuthnot, and May Reynolds."
Adrienne gasped at the last of these names.
"It began at this very school, 21 years ago, when you were a student,
and the school was just founded. Our plan was to work the kids till their
brains gave out, have ridiculous hours so they would be so lethargic they¹d
go home and go to sleep and not cause trouble, and make the curriculum as
boring as possible to numb their minds. However, MAY was not behind it
all the way and thought that children, when not penned up, get bored easily
and go home to sit on their rears. That would not be part of the plan; then
you had to find out. You were in this very basement when I marked you as
the first to go, because you, Tybalt, figured out what was happening, and on
the day I was going to finish the job, you got all the kids to run away from
home."
"How did you know?" Tybalt asked.
"May found a flyer in the locker room. She told the higher-ups, and my
funding was cut, so I was stuck with no plan and this stupid school! I¹ve
spent all these years trying to get these unruly adolescents to finally give
it up, but it hasn¹t worked yet. This year, it all culminates to now, and
you¹re the first to know the nicer, more studious you."
He slowly walked over to the mainframe that connected to the brain
warper. Vince heard the Master¹s words echo in his mind. The purest of
heart can speak to the gyroscope, and even, in extreme cases, have their
own item that can save them from utter peril, and hence, the Class, in which
we learn to use these items. That¹s only happened a few times. It¹s been a
while. Nobody¹s been so pure as to get this one.
That was it! Vince was the purest of hearts and had the pure silver
heart to save him from peril. Never did he know that it would actually save
him and everyone under 18 from the very worst. Here¹s what came to him:
The heart is the key to the laser which is able to destroy the mainframe
which controls the warper. If I can just.....
Adrienne turned to him. "I'm gonna sneeze!" she whispered.
"Hold it as long as you can, then after you do, go over and hold down
Ben."
"I can't hold it much longer!"
Adrienne sneezed, and right from there, everything started. Vince raced
over to the laser while Ben turned around to see what was there. When Ben
was turned around, both Tybalt and Adrienne lunged at him.
"I thought you were stuck," Adrienne grunted.
"That warper had so many failings, it¹s a wonder it¹s not in the city
dump by now," Tybalt grunted back.
Ben fell down. Tybalt pinned his left arm, Adrienne, his right. Vince
was at the helm of the laser, trying to fit the key in. (Nobody said he was
smart. I just said he was pure.) The last option was to put it in right
side up.
VREEOOOM! The laser began to hum.
"Don't make me," said Vince, grimly.
"Whatever you want!" Ben pleaded.
"Let us go, and then destroy this lab."
"No! This lab's my baby!" Ben screamed.
And then, even more grimly, Vince said, "You leave me no choice." and
fired the laser just a little close to Ben¹s shoulder, and because he was,
and always had been a molly-coddled sissy, he fainted.
"You missed," said Tybalt. "Why did you miss?"
"I knew he'd do that, and I would hate to kill somebody when making him
pee himself and faint like a girl will suffice."
"'Scuse me?" Adrienne asked defensively.
"Sorry," Vince amended, "faint like a wimp."
"Let's incinerate this place, " Tybalt said.
"No, I'm tired. Let's just hit the self-destruct button that this guy
obviously has in here, take the wimp outside, and hit the bricks," Vince
said.
Adrienne hit the button, and motioned them over to the boys. They, in
turn, bore Ben over their shoulders to the front lawn. Behind them, the lab
belched smoke, and then blew up. They walked away knowing that their duty
to the world that night had been done.
"Tybalt," Adrienne asked, "How old are you? Really?"
"33," he answered.
"Is there school tomorrow?"
"Probably not," Vince chuckled to himself.
When Vince got back to the Class, to apologize for missing practice and
losing the heart, the Master laughed.
"Ah, Vince, you are as good-hearted as ever. If you had come today, I
would have told you that your Articles never are destroyed. They are within
you. I just give those out to boost confidence. I knew you wouldn¹t come
today. The evil forces culminated today, and you overcame them. I was
worried for a while."
"Yeah, really, when Tybalt was magnetted to that warper, I thought we
were up a crick."
"No, not that evil. You nearly shot Ben, but you didn't. That¹s
the evil I'm referring to."
"I understand, Master. I must go."
"Wait! I met someone that you must meet as well!
The door opened. A raggedy woman with the cares of the world weighing
on her face walked in.
"Vince!"
"Ma?"
"It's me!"
"Where were you, Ma?"
"I have a hotel room in the city."
"Where?"
"The Merlin Tavern."
"Let's go home."
The Master sat proudly on his cushion at the front of the room, pleased
to have orchestrated this meeting. Like a sign, he snapped to his feet,
picked up his suitcase, and went home.