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Uno and Fog: Terminus

May 25, 2019

The Fog and I flew south on my private jet, each of us taking turns as pilot.  I would never admit it, but he’s a better pilot.  Its about a three hour flight from New Amsterdam to Terminus, which was uneventful.

Terminus is a major commercial and transportation hub, and despite a much smaller population than New Amsterdam, has a high concentration of corporations.  Its still not on the same level as New Amsterdam, but then its not even two hundred years old as a city.  Plus it’s spread out and for that reason, among others, Norte Corp, like many companies, has considerable holdings here.

In contrast to the brusk reputation of the people of my city, Terminus prides itself on its hospitality and warmth.  People in New Amsterdam sometimes make the mistake of thinking outward friendliness and a certain relaxed demeanor equals a lack of business acumen.

One should always remember that alligators are known to smile too.

Terminus is also the hometown of Southern Bell, an extremely popular sanctioned hero, there are t-shirts, posters, magnets, and assorted other knickknacks of her in every gift shop in the city.  Several of the local bars have drinks named after her which contain gin, three different types of rum, a couple liquors and fruit juice, it supposed to be sweet yet pack a punch, just like her.

The lack of the e on Bell is intentional.  She can move so fast, that she can create a sonic boom, and she can direct it at an adversary.  It actually sounds like a bell being rung too.  How she does that, I have no idea.

I have never had the opportunity to meet her, and I prefer to keep it that way.

The two of us head out for dinner first, its been a while since I’ve had good grits, and southern food.  At The Expressway I have the catfish and The Fog orders grilled chicken and greens.

He doesn’t touch the starches, even when its some of the best grits in Terminus in my opinion, but he declines.  Drinks water too, not the sweet tea.  He keeps to his diet, I have yet to see him deviate.

When we are done, we head to the warehouse district of Norte Corp.   Goods are often stored here, and in one of the buildings, in a small neglected corner is everything my father had boxed up as it pertained to my mother.

We drive through the security with fake identification.  I make sure to mess with the security cameras as we drive up.  I don’t want to be tracked, even the license plate of the car could lead to me.

The security guard opens the gate and waves us through.  We had picked this time because it’s slowest, but there are still trucks being loaded here and there.  I was here once before looking for answers and hadn’t found anything, so I knew where I was headed.  Row twenty, warehouse three.  We pass a guard walking by, his eyes flicked toward us and away.

The building looks just the way all the others do, sheet metal siding, peaked roof, three loading bay doors in front, a smaller side door.  The outside lights are on, casting small pools of light and deepening shadows.

The Fog unlocks the door quickly and we step inside.  There are wood crates, and pallets of plastic covered items all around us.  I flick on the lights.  What we are seeking is at the end of the building.

“I will meet you there.” The Fog slinks off to the right to check for anyone else in the room, possible traps, ambushes or anything else that I might trigger.  Someone wanted me looking into this, who knows what could be waiting.

I walk down the concrete walk way, past a forklift sitting in the shadows, past all sorts of items, machinery parts, and the only sound is my footsteps.  The Fog is a ghost, I neither see or hear him anymore.

I get to the end of the warehouse and look at the pile of boxes and furniture.  We are going to be here for some time.  My father is many things, but sloppy isn’t one of them and I pull out his inventory list.

The Fog shows up suddenly, “where do we start?”  Its been a while since he has been able to cause a jump scare out of me.  You get used to everything eventually.

“Not the clothing boxes obviously, anything with an obvious keyhole, like the jewelry box. ”  The Fog nods and reaches for a mahogany box and hands it over to me.  The key doesn’t fit.  I look through the box for any other possible key holes.

We spend the next hour looking until we get to the armoire.  The key fits, I turn it and the lock opens and closes, but there isn’t any change in it.  It was unlocked when we got to it.


We search the entire armoire for other keyholes, but there are none.

“Why give me a key to something that’s unlocked.”

The Fog nods and gets thoughtful look, “Close the door and lock it.”

I do as he instructs.

“Now keep turning it.”

I shrug.  I expect more resistance, but the key does turn further and I hear an audible click within the armoire.  A whisper of a grin shows on The Fog.  I unlock the door an open it, I can see that the back panel has disengaged slightly, I pull it out.

Behind it, in the secret compartment is a black leather outfit, leather tapered pants, a leather bodice, leather gloves, black boots, an almost complete hood.  There is a small red fist painted on the left breast of the bodice.

I recognize the outfit.

“Huh.”  There’s a little note of surprise in The Fog’s voice.

Which is a bit understated, since my mother was a supervillain.

One of the most notorious supervillains ever.






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