* * * * *
Even for men such as themselves, the trip west of the International Date Line (putting them one day ahead, give or take ten hours) took some readjustment. That period of readjustment was not improved by the monsoon rain currently inundating everyone and everything around them. Without the protective forcefields generated by their teleportons, the black raincoats they wore over their regular suits would have been highly insufficient at keeping the latter dry.
"I never thought we'd _really_ have to use these things as umbrellas," Agent 679 muttered to his partner, as they entered the lobby of Black Mountain Tower.
Agent 678 nodded: "And, with all the commensurate thunder and lightning, I kept half-expecting Bela Lugosi to pop out of thin air and bid us 'velcome.' "
"I prefer the Gary Oldman version, myself."
"You would. What makes you think that teenagers, twenty years from now, won't be regarding _that_ as a corny cult classic?"
"Call it...a hunch."
"No fair! Now, you're quoting from YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN."
"Whatever."
This half-serious banter, meant to give the impression that they were very good friends, did not go unnoticed. A security guard (who looked more like a theatrical usher) came over and greeted them.
"G'day, gentlemen. Could I be of any assistance?"
"As a matter of fact, yes!" exclaimed the older agent: "Where might we find the head office for CTG Enterprises?"
"That would be on the first floor, sir."
Agent 679 angled his head in confusion: "Aren't we on the first floor, right now?"
"Ah! You gentlemen must be from America. What you call the 'first floor' in your country is called the 'ground floor,' here. Making what you call the 'second floor' the 'first floor _above_ the ground floor,' here."
Both visitors nodded in agreement with this train of logic, and thanked the guard for his help. Then, just as they were about to proceed toward the nearest elevator (a.k.a. "lift"), Agent 679 turned and asked one final question.
"Is it true that there have been a lot of mysterious disappearances, near this mountain?"
"Oh, no, sir! You're thinking of Mount Kalkajaka, up in Queensland. The locals call it 'Black Mountain' for all the sooty-black boulders on its slopes. Centerpiece of a national park, it is. With a beautiful panoramic view of Cooktown from the top!"
"Thank you. Maybe, on our next trip down here, my colleague and I can pay it a visit."
As they continued on their way, Agent 678 whispered an inquiry as to what that had been all about.
"I thought the Sitmobtia might have chosen this site as an entry point, for their contraband, because of ley-line convergence. Reducing the danger of too many power spikes from artificial warp-activation."
Agent 678 nodded; albeit, advancing this hypothesis one step further.
"If the other Black Mountain is such an interdimensional crossroads, they might be relaying energy from there, to here, in order to charge their wrist-mounted activators."
Two minutes later, the elevator pinged to a stop, and the agents disembarked. Directly across from them was a glass-encased directory made of black-painted iron, stuck to which were magnetized white letters. Literally spelling out all the names of the businesses leasing office space on that floor.
They found the room number for CTG Enterprises and headed for it. Upon reaching that door, they saw it faced a window that was being pelted so fiercely, by the rain, they literally could not see through it. All too visible, however, was the sign on the door stating that the office had been closed unexpectedly early, due to a death in the family.
Consequently, their backs were turned toward the rain-lashed window. And, the Morpher who slowly began separating himself from it!
tbc
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA,
EARTH-DXM (08/13/09)
EARTH-DXM (08/13/09)