Tales from the Flip-Side: The Adventures of Big Daddy Cool and the Bombshell Kittens

TALES FROM THE FLIP SIDE

The Adventures of Big Daddy Cool & the Bombshell Kittens

by John Pyka

Published by Pro Se Press

This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters in this publication are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No part or whole of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing of the publisher.

Copyright © 2015 John Pyka

All rights reserved.

Contents

—

Prologue

SWING HARD, SWING OFTEN

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

THE PHANTOM’S TALE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

TRIXIE GOES DOWNTOWN

About the Author

Prologue

—

My head was pounding. I struggled to open my eyes. Even the dim light of the room I was in hurt like hell. Where was I? My memory was hazy. I couldn’t sort it out. What day was it? Did I have to go into the office today? The office? Since when did I work at an office? I lay in the bed staring at the ceiling for another minute trying to figure it all out. What had happened last night to put my mind in a haze? I closed my eyes and tried to remember…

I sat up as the truth came rushing back. Cold sweat instantly beaded on my forehead. I jumped from the bed and rushed to the window across the room. I threw open the cheap drapes and the blinding sunlight nearly threw me backwards. I squinted against the light and tried to adjust.

Nothing was familiar. The buildings were huge towering monoliths almost like something out of a Buck Rogers comic strip, but the sky was clear blue and uncluttered. None of the usual flying machines littered the sky. I turned to the hotel room door behind me. On the floor, pushed just halfway under the door, was a newspaper.

Can it be…? I rushed over to the door and snatched the paper from the floor and snapped it open. The date on the front page screamed the truth. May 15th, 2015. It was the future. Or the present. Or the future of my present in the past.

It all started flowing back: The Architects, the Nexus, Doc Impossible, and Professor Marvel. The portal. The Chronal event that flung me into this future. Violent and ancient energy. This was the future of my past. But that is the end. We need to start at the beginning…

The Adventures of Big Daddy Cool and the Bombshell Kittens:

Swing Hard, Swing Often

Chapter One

—

The floor show at Club Roxy was in full swing when it all went down. My headline guest, illusionist Professor Maxwell Marvel, had just made a five-ton elephant vanish in full view. No other magician could do this. Oh, there were many others who made large animals vanish, even elephants, but all of them used a special box, some type of curtain, or other apparatus. Not Professor Marvel. His assistants brought an elephant onstage, he said some magic words, clapped his hands and the beast was gone. And not just hidden gone, but actually gone. It was one of the most amazing things I had ever seen. For a finale, the good professor would sit on his magic carpet and proceed to fly over the heads of the audience. Not just side to side, or up and down, like most of the ham an’ egger magicians out there, but out over the audience. It was astounding, no, breathtaking. Nobody knew how it was done. The only explanation anybody could come up with is that it was real magic. Which, all of us in the business knew, it was.

My club, Club Roxy was—is—the swankest night spot in Chicago. I come up through the ranks of Tommy Sims’s gang, and when Sims died I inherited everything. I used what money Tommy amassed to open this club. Club Roxy is host to politicians, celebrities, gangsters, the affluent elite, but what really makes it the place to be is the floor show. Every night I host the biggest, best show in town, featuring the biggest headliners in the country. This week, Marvel was the headliner, and the place was packed—sold out for the entire engagement. Club Roxy was always packed, and Marvel’s shows always sold out. But this night, the Club Roxy had become the epicenter of an event that would change the world.

They burst in through the front door. They hit Rocco Pirelli first. He went flying across the room, shoved out of the way like some rag doll. He collided headfirst with the trumpet section of the band. Whoever these intruders were, they were tough. Pirelli was the toughest tough to walk in Chicago. Tougher ‘n me. Nobody with any sense dared to mess with him. But there he was, swimming in a tangled mass of brass and steel. Whoever could toss him around like that was serious and meant business.

They came in like a pack of wolves. As a matter of fact, for years afterward eyewitnesses would describe them that way. Their hair was short and blonde, and stuck straight up like they had been electrocuted. They each stood with a slump, not in a weak way, but in a powerfully primal way. They had red eyes. Everyone who saw them swore they had red eyes. They were dressed in nondescript grey uniforms. The leader of the pack looked around the room, snorted, and they each sprang into the crowd.

The women screamed primal screams of fear, and even the toughest tough guy panicked. Two off-duty cops pulled their service revolvers and started firing off shots. Several wise guys pulled out hidden tommy guns and laid into the uninvited guests with hot lead. I immediately pulled my jack knife and slashed one of the intruders across the throat. Unfortunately, all of this didn’t faze any of the beasts. The one I slashed up swung his clawed hand and sent me flying over the bar. Another grabbed my best girl, Lana LaMoore, by the back of the hair and pulled her head back, revealing her neck. He opened his mouth wide. He had fangs. As God as my witness, this thing had fangs! He seemed ready to sink his fangs into Lana’s neck when Professor Marvel acted.

As soon as Rocco had been sent sailing through the air, Marvel had turned his carpet sharply to face the fiends. He hopped off the carpet, and calmly strode to a position in the middle of the dance floor and closed his eyes. He spoke words that sounded like an ancient incantation and thrust his hands into the air. Suddenly, the sound left the room. I don’t mean it was quiet, I mean that the sound literally vanished. Then without warning, and just as suddenly, a blinding light filled the room with a deafening clap of thunder. The light seemed five times brighter than the sun and hurt like hell. It lasted for only a second, but that is all that was needed. The monstrous intruders burst into flame, and within an instant they all had been reduced to piles of ash. Everyone looked around in shock, wondering what had just happened.

Everyone remain calm said Marvel in measured, even tones.

I piped in. Show’s over folks. Everyone get out. My guests didn’t argue. It took all of five minutes for the guests to get their hats and wraps at the hat check and get out. The band took off too. Nobody had to tell them that the gig was over. After the last guest had left, I took off my red wool fedora and said, Would someone please tell me what that was all about?

Vampires, responded Professor Marvel.

What? What do you mean vampires? You mean to tell me that those things were vampires? C’mon… Vampires ain’t real!

Oh, I am afraid that they are very real, Mr. Dellarocca. You are fortunate I was present tonight to dispatch them.

What do you mean, real?

What I mean, Mr. Dellarocca, is that you of all people know that there is an entire world of supernatural beings and events that most people consider myth or fairy tales, but they are all very real. The real question at hand is why did they attack tonight, and why here?

I think I can answer that question, Marvel, said a new player as he melted out of the shadows and into real space. It was one of my agents, the Blue Phantom. Lana LaMoore gasped and Rocco tensed.

Relax, everyone, I said. The Blue Phantom is a friend. Spill it, Blue.

They were here to find something… or… someone.

He motioned to a lone man at the far end of the bar, sitting and still clutching a bottle of rum. He wore a tattered mohair coat, and had thick, long, unkempt black hair. He wore sunglasses, and a nasty scar ran diagonally from his right cheek to the center of his forehead. It was obvious he hadn’t bathed or shaved in days. Sensing everyone’s gaze upon him the man looked up and said, Whatcha all staring at?

I was the first to speak up. Excuse me, but why would vampires tear up my club over some drunk?

Because, said a new voice from the shadows, that drunk is the most feared vampire hunter in history.

And who are you? I asked. This was becoming a crowded conversation, quick.

My name is Colonel Jack Able, Commander of the Earth Defense Force. That man, however, is a vampire’s worst nightmare. Allow me to introduce you to Harker Van Helsing. Now, someone get some coffee brewing. We’ve got a lot of work to do.

Over the next twenty minutes, Colonel Jack Able, the self-proclaimed Super Patriot and world-famous celebrated hero of the Earth/Martian War and now commanding officer of the Earth Defense Force, briefed us on the situation. Able spoke directly without mincing words, but still with a cocky edge of bravado. Six months ago, British intelligence intercepted sensitive documents that indicated that Herr Führer, Adolf Hitler, himself has made an unholy pact with the devil—Vlad the Impaler, Count Vladimir Dracula. He plans to create a vampire army under his control to usher in his Third Reich.

The room sat silent for a moment. I broke the silence. Wait a minute, Colonel. I called him Colonel because how else do you refer to the most celebrated hero in Earth’s history? Do you mean to tell me that Hitler has gone and created himself a vampire army with the help of Dracula?

That is correct…?

Big Daddy Cool.

Is that your given name? Able said with a snarky tone.

Very droll, Colonel. I echoed his tone. Now, you want to tell us what happens next?

Next, Harker and a handpicked team will drop behind enemy lines and eliminate that threat. Harker, Marvel, Balthazar, and I will rendezvous with the rest of the force at oh-nine hundred hours…

We’re going with you too, I added.

No, Johnny, said Maxwell. "If we fail to stop Hitler’s plans in Europe, Chicago will be his next target. You and your Bombshells will be the only ones left to stop him from succeeding in raising the Elder God and achieving his conquest. We need