Mom, I'm Bulletproof

Chapter 4.3: Almost Forgotten

Proscenium became solid on a nearby rooftop. Peppermint and wax, he thought. What does that mean?

He heard a burglar alarm a few blocks away. In cloud form, he got there in a minute, to find two men carrying a big screen TV out of an electronics store's broken window.

A candy shop? Proscenium thought as he punched out both men, knocking them unconscious. Is the Sweetdrink Candy Factory still open?

Upon hearing police sirens, he turned back into a cloud and made his way up to the rooftops.

In the distance, on the other side of the city, Proscenium saw four helicopters. He concentrated, focusing his gaze, until he could make out three police helicopters pursuing one painted all in black.

In his cloud form, it took Proscenium approximately six minutes to cross the city and reach the fleeing helicopter.

It couldn't have anything to do with scented candles, he thought as he returned to solid shape inside the black helicopter. Two men wearing body armor were in the two front seats. Several paintings, which Proscenium assumed were both priceless and stolen, were strapped down in the rear seats.

The wax smell is perhaps unintentional, and the peppermint is there to cover it up, he thought as he grabbed the men's heads and smacked them against each other, knocking them both out.

Although there wasn't much room inside the craft to accommodate Proscenium's size, he had no problem pulling the pilot out of his seat, snapping the seat belts apart, and throwing the man into the rear seats, next to the paintings.

Proscenium grasped the helicopter's controls. He spotted a park not far away and brought the vehicle down for a landing, with the police choppers behind him the whole way.

He landed the helicopter landed on the park's main green, scattering the various bums and addicts that normally lurked there at night. Proscenium again reverted to cloud form, flowing downward, out of the helicopter, and through the grass, to avoid being seen by the police.

Although he knew there was still much work to do in the city, Proscenium could afford no more distractions. He knew where he was going.

He floated over the city until he reached the Mackintosh Mall, which was closed for the night. He flowed into the building and down to its lower level, where he became solid, standing before a pair of massive red and white doors. A banner over them read, "Santa's Workshop – open November to January."

Proscenium could have flowed through the doors as a cloud, but he instead decided to announce his presence. The doors fell open with a single punch of his metal fist.

He walked down through the large structure into what would normally be the mall's basement level. When tourism was at its height in Theater City, Santa's Workshop was created to turn the typical "Get your picture taken with Santa at the mall" experience into something truly theatrical. These days, though, it was just another of the city's almost-forgotten novelties.

Proscenium walked into a recreation of the North Pole, with a fantasy vision of a massive outdoor toy factory at its center. In the past, a mass of dancers portraying elves would line up and high-kick all along the conveyor belts leading into and out of the factory. Alongside the conveyors were turnstiles and walkways for tourists and visitors to stand in line, entertained by the dancers while waiting to meet Santa. Now, it was empty, dimly lit, and quiet.

Mounds of fake snow were on either side of the path, as well as on the floor all around Proscenium. He scooped up some of the white flakes and held it close to his face. Despite its thickness, Proscenium's frowning theater mask did not limit his senses. He smelled the fake snow and, sure enough, it was wax, with a thin coat of peppermint scent layered over it.

He crept forward, following the conveyor belts and paths, deeper into the attraction, past all the unlit Christmas trees and unmoving animatronic woodland creatures, which looked like they had frozen to death.

Proscenium reached the end of the line – Santa's cottage. Tonight, the cottage was lit only by a flickering light in one window.

"Ho, ho, ho," a raspy voice announced over the attraction's loudspeakers. "Mer-ry Christmas."

Proscenium knew that voice.

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Next: Like a rat in a maze.