"North Star Cabins?" the secretary asked quizzically.

"Yes, please," Maurice stuttered.

She tapped on a holographic keyboard, tiny, metallic blips emitting with every button press. "I'm sorry, but I don't see it anywhere in our record. Maybe you were mistaken? The name is wrong?"

Airrider gulped down a lump in his throat. "I had a business card from them. I know they were one of your subsidiaries." He stared at the secretary via a two-way communication screen. Digging into his pocket, he fished out a slightly crumpled business card and showed her.

The secretary squinted, adjusting her glasses. "The business number and extension don't exist, sir. I think someone may have produced that card illegally."

She typed again into her terminal, but it was a hopeless exercise. Maurice already felt a shudder go up his spine. He knew she wouldn't find any information in her –

"Would you  like me to call the Better Business Bureau, sir? I think you might have been a victim of fraud." The very word 'fraud' seemed like an understatement.

"What business did you have with… 'North Star Cabins,' was it?"

***


Alex and Silky dropped their bags to the ground. The cabin had a dilapidated feel to it. The natural amenities that had been advertised – hot, running water, an uplink to public extranet, electricity and climate control  - had made the cabin seem like the ideal place to relax – a home away from home. Silky sighed slightly. Even reading about it had felt artificial, as though she were somehow cheating nature out of  a rare chance to cause great discomfort.

Now, standing in the doorway, she gasped. The entire place smelt of mold and mildew; a foul, noisome combination that forced Silky and her friend, Alexandros, to wrinkle their noses in unison.

"Silky," Alex chided, "I know you were not particularly excited about the cabin, but-"

Silky shot him a glare. Alex had been invited along simply for his own benefit; he was less than thrilled about the concept of his friend spending a weekend alone in a cabin. "Alex, my dear, one of my sponsors sent me this cabin." Her nose twitched involuntarily. "Admittedly, I had no idea  that I was being sponsored by such a..." the sound of something living scurrying away inside the bowels of the cabin made her nose twitch involuntarily.

"Such a rustic little company." She entered the room, keeping her bags elevated above the creaking bricolage floor.  "I wonder when they…sponsored me? Perhaps… perhaps this 'North Star Cabins' company appeared in a short film? Maybe they provided capital? Maybe we used one of their, well, cabins?" She thought aloud, going through recent films that her acting career had journeyed through. None of them seemed like the type to include a cabin.

Silky was certain she had been sponsored by … North Star at some point in the past. She couldn't remember when, though. And she wasn't sure what she had done to make 'North Star Cabins' send her a free weekend pass.

Her compatriot was rubbing up against the wooden walls of the ramshackle structure.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!? Those walls could be covered in scabies, and…" her sentence trailed off as Alex stopped. Paint was flaking off; strong, putrid paint; like a varnish that had been intentionally decoupaged. The paint was recently applied; and behind that thin layer, the wood looked – and smelt – brand-new, as though the house had been built yesterday.

Silky put her bags on the floor. It wasn't the smell that made her head spin.

***

Maurice frantically searched over the letter Silky had received.

"Dear Madame,
We thank you for accepting our humble patronage. We here at North Star Cabins pride ourselves on top quality and rustic flavor. So grateful we are for your advertisement and product placement that we have decided it would only be fair to give you a more tangible reward – a weekend getaway in one of our fine cabins in the Kiowa National Reserve. Attatched is your ticket and check-in information."

Maurice pored over every inch of the letter. He sniffed it, he felt the glossy sides, the matted envelope, the high-quality ink. There were no clues; and apparently, the information listed at the bottom was false. He had a bad feeling from the start, but the last thing he wanted to do was sound overtly protective.

He sighed. He knew that Silky and Alex were long since out of any cellular service area. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he certainly didn't like it.


"If you want something done right…" he muttered to himself.

***


Alex knelt down, just outside the perimeter of the shack. He was busy staring at the foundation of the house.

It was thick – too thick. It reminded him of a good old-fashioned evil lair; poured concrete, and lots of it. Auric Goldfinger would be proud. But why, then, would there be such a foundation? It was a complete anachronism at that; unless of course the house had been built recently.

Then it hit him.


Some ideas take the form of inspirational visions or flashes. The same goes for blunt objects. He came to the obvious conclusion that the house had been built recently just  as the butt of a machete hit the base of his neck. A searing pain entered his system as he feel to his knees; a second blow to his skull sent his vision into a fuzzy, starred blur. He lay sprawled on the ground, head gently resting on the grass a few inches away from the foundation of the house.

Silky's ear twitched. She was just a few feet away from the site of the now highly-unconscious Alex, sitting in the musty – and musky – cabin and eyeing her watch eagerly.

"Alex, do you think we could perhaps check with the desk again? The lady at the desk could perhaps have made a mis-"

A machete whizzed by her head, implanting itself in the wall next to her hair.

"-take."

Silky panicked immediately, jumping into the air from her chair. Phantom walked into the room, readying another weapon.

Silky had to do a double-take for herself, analyzing what she had just perceived. Phantom was nowhere to be seen; but the woman in front of her had such an imperceptible allure to her; a feminine beauty, slightly muscled, a sense of importuning and impetuous passion. She even smelled like Phantom.

But she wasn't. Her skin was flesh-toned; her body much more organic; a white shirt, blue skirt, and a scarf wound round her waist. She could have been a twin sister.

Silky was taking her sweet time analyzing this new arrival; she analyzed every feature, every curve that this ebon-haired girl possessed. She even analyzed the precise swing and the connection between a this interloper's leg and the back of Silky's knee.

As she lay on the ground panting, the new arrival said something disparaging in a foreign language – just as she knocked the Lastarite actress out with a very un-elegant strike.3










       What's the worst day you've ever had? Many people answer by saying it was the day something horrific happened to a loved one. It's sweet and nice to see someone so generous, ignoring their personal problems and focusing on the hardships of others.

Maurice, better known to some as Airrider, was having such a poor day. With his wife still missing and his close friend just as absent, he was left with solitude and inquiry. He stood in the waiting line at the local police constabulary. Half of the building was empty, and it seemed like the other half was all on patrol. A mousy man with long sideburns was eagerly passing out tickets, directing people away from the station – it seemed like anything he could do to get people out of the station.

Airrider's wife, Silky, was nowhere to be found after taking that 'free vacation' from a phony company. He had no desire to wait in line, but he was able to dig deeply until he found a vein of self-control. It was nearly empty as he took a ticket. "J7." 

The police officer at the desk called out "B1."

***

Silky was also having a day that she would describe as less-than-ideal. She was not a selfish sort; but she had problems much more relevant. She might not say that today was her worst day, but it certainly was not enjoyable.

She had already been abducted and assaulted. By the time she could synthesize the information gleaned, she had a splitting headache, with the source being the unfortunate lump on the back of her head. Her body was working desperately to ignore it and recover from it.

The oh-so-unfortunate lady lie just a few feet from where she had fallen. The 'cabin' was, as her friend Alex had learnt, just a ruse; recently put up to lull its 'occupants' into a false sense of security. In essence, it was to camouflage the large double-doors leading to a cellar, and from there, a small dwelling carved out of the earth, supported by mortar, concrete, and vigorous construction. The Bagginses and Tooks would be proud at such hillock-based construction efforts.

She was unharmed – well, for the most part. She did understand her place as a captive almost immediately; it wasn't an unfamiliar scenario for her.

Silky lift her head. The pain was going away. The room was bathed in an orange hue from the sunlight above. After a short glance, she understood that the 'sunlight' was just a series of mirrored tubes reflecting the throughout the room.

The room was nice enough; heavy amounts of wood or granite furniture gave it an earthen feel. It was a sitting room; she had been draped on the couch, her long hair spilling over her limp shoulders and voluptuous breasts. She sat up, taking in her surroundings. It didn't seem so bad; if she had been abducted, at least her kidnappers were gentlemen. She would have no trouble talking her way out of this.

The sunlight abruptly ended as the sun-tubes closed themselves, sending the room into a pitch-black ebony night. A voice echoed into the room.

"Showtime."

***


Airrider felt  a very palpable twang of fear go down his back. It was a sort of genuine fear; old-fashioned, raw, and visceral. It was the sort of fear that you feel late at night when you think someone else is in the house; the sort of basic and instinctual fear you get when things start to get personal. Yes, the sort of fear that lurks not in the imagination, but in the body. 

He was not sure what had caused it. Perhaps, he thought, he was just imagining things – but he could swear that a shiver went down his spine. He no longer thought that Silky was endangered; he knew it.

Something snapped in him as his heartbeat raced. He pushed to the front of the packed waiting room, shoving other well-meaning and needy people out of the way in broad strokes. He could practically hear his heart beating, sending surges of adrenaline through his body.  "Excuse me," he said calmly, pushing through the other patrons.

"Excuse me!" He almost shouted now, his voice still hoarse with fear. 

The deputy looked up just as Maurice slapped his hands on the final person in line, throwing her to the side while she was still mid-sentence in reporting  a local crime.

"Excuse mmmmm-" His hands were on the wooden frame of the desk for a half-second before his own clothing activated. In the event of an emergency, he knew he might do something… drastic. 

Unfortunately, he might have set the receptors to be just a mite too sensitive; his extensive neural fiber-mesh clothing sensed his elevated stress levels, and took the obvious course of action – restrain their wearer before he could cause any further undue harm. 

His pants instantly closed themselves together, tiny magnets forcing his legs and ankles tight against one another. He rubbed his thighs slightly, trying to shrug off his own restraints as they began containing him; sewing the fabric together and creating an exceptionally snug fit. The ankles flared, the contracted, forming a single sack that kept him from walking and forced him to squirm on the cool tile floor. 
His arms were contracted to his chest. He hugged himself as though he were heaving, not realizing that it was simply his jacket resteraining him without remorse. It was tight – very tight –and he felt it. Thick leather straps dug into his skin around his thighs, is arms, his waist, his ankles – that compressed it and made his body feel like a trap. The collar of his jacket rebelled against him, flipping up before turning into a rigid posture collar that held his defiant head in place. 

Maurce kicked and buckled much to the amusement of other patrons. The belts increased, now covering his legs every few inches. He felt like a mummy, wrapped up in an exotic and fanciful wardrobe.

He shouted at the police officer – but it was muffled by the final touch. A thick, sensory-depriving hood covered his head, thick and inescapable latex that extended from inside his coat's collar. It moved past his neck, his nose, his ears, extending slots to keep him breathing. He was featureless, and thick, rubbery plugs pervaded even his ears. He was shut off from the outside world, left to 'calm down', as it were. The hood had a smiley-face logo proudly emblazoned on it, and the back of his jacket now read "Time-Out."

He squirmed, moaning as he ground his thighs together. He was having difficulty hiding the twinges of arousal as he wriggled in his straitjacket-coat, squirming like a spider caught in a rubbery web.

"J7," the policeman intoned boredly.

***

The room was quiet as Silky's ears perked up. She practically pointed them in the direction of the voice.

"Showtime?" She responded with a quizzical tone, a raise in pitch at the end of her question to signify her confusion.

A slightly accented voice replied in kind once again. "Showtime, my dear." Through the darkness, Silky could still sense movement. "Show yourself," the actress proudly proclaimed.

Her mystery captors were all too happy to comply. A single light activated, shining down and bathing a single figure in incandescent light. The light shone off of inky black latex, making her practically glow with the reflected light. It was a woman; at first, Silky could have sworn it was her friend, the 
bodyguard and henchwoman Hisa. She was different, however, the least of which was her costume; black-on-white, tight latex, high heels, a sort of inhuman air to it. And her face… in addition to a pair of robotic-looking 'wings' on her bangs, it was deathly pale. 

"Ah, so you, my sweet, have finally sought out your captor! A wise choice; to know the true nature of one's queen is a high honor." She had a haughtiness to her that neither Hisa nor Phantom could capture. 

"My songbird," she intoned, "I would first like to advise against any drastic action. My compound – as tiny as it is – is more of a private getaway for me, and I have taken exceeding pains to keep it private and very secure." She clapped her hands once and strode over to Silky.

"An intelligent young girl you are, yes?" The hisa-thing put her finger on Hisa's chin, forcing her to 'nod' up and down. "Then you can grasp the concept of alternate realities and parallel universes. You can also grasp the concept that greed and want, yes, are eternal and unyielding." She winked knowingly.

Silky, still speechless, tried to rise, but the woman pushed her back down. "When our Pryglass saw across the bands between worlds, we spied your world. It was just similar enough to merit a closer look. I, of course, dispatched my lovely little companion Spectre to take a look. When we saw you, dearie… why, you were more vulnerable, more adorable, more friendly and outgoing…" She ran a hand over Silky's chest. "Quite a bit more busty, actually. Hm." 

"And now," she said, "that the venerable and indomitable Hisa.exe has you in her grasp, she has no intent of letting royalty like yourself go free. Why, you will be the first of many to grace my court; my private palace here." She motioned around her. "The compound might seem small, but you would be surprised. The Hobbits had a good idea. Hills are large, they have natural dome structure; they're perfect for a large, secret compound." 

"Hisa.exe" was a mouthful for Silky to say. She got to her feet and stared at Hisa.exe angrily.
"Miss Hisa, really, now. Is there any need for such violence?" She scoffed. "You think very lowly of me; that I am helpless, yes? That I am just a passionate and useless woman?" She rose to her feet. "Well, miss Hisa.exe, I would like you to know that it may be so in your dimension, but in mine…" Silky stepped back slightly. "In this universe, to pay undue-"

Silky was proud of herself. She was finally getting into the swing of things. Hisa.exe looked distracted and busy; if her power was anything like Phantom's, Silky would be able to make it out with only marginal injuries.

She felt something squeaky dropped at her feet. Hisa.exe had dropped a whole gaggle of rubber garments at her feet and was staring impatiently, motioning for Silky to don them.

"Are you crazy!? I was in the middle of a monologue! I could break out of your little pleasure palace in a half-heartbeat. I-"

"I think you will do exactly as we say, Silky, no matter what universe you are from."

Hisa.exe snapped her fingers, and Silky sat down. A hologram appeared. One look, and she gingerly picked up the various garments. Hisa.exe smiled.

On the hologram, the mysterious woman who had subdued Silky and Alex cackled. She stood on a nearby windbrisk cliff, just a half-mile from the hilly mountains that contained the complex and the 'cabin'. A shakey ledge contained two things – the laughing Spectre and the bound and gagged form of Alex. She gently prodded him, making him squirm and moan at the terrifying prospect of being  thrown from the cliff at a moments' notice. 

Silky had no choice but to give in; if not for her, for Alex. She took a seat and unbuttoned her shirt.

***

Meanwhile, Spectre grinned, draping her long scarf over Alex's helpless form. 
"Tell me, Alex," she intoned quietly. "What's the worst day you've ever had?"











Common sense is merely the deposit of prejudice laid down in the human mind before the age of 18. This went through Alex's head once or twice. It was a famous quotation attributed to the late Albert Einstein. He liked that quote; it reminded him to always think outside the box.

Or outside the sarcophagus. Or… or outside whatever else he had been in recently. Either way, it was a constant reminded that he shouldn't take things for granted in a world where nothing was merely granted-  least of all the safety and knowledge that one wasn't about to be thrown off of a cliff.
He shuddered slightly. He was functionally naked; a black bodysuit with a few points for attachments was not a very good cover in, no matter how temperate. For that matter, it was not making him feel any more secure.

Alexandros had his arms swiftly tied behind his back, and he was briskly gagged, with something he assumed was a ball gag in his mouth. He could sense that he was just inches from the ledge; standing on a cliff, bound and gagged, and much to afraid to look up or look down. He was entirely straight, his whole body rigid as a rock. His subconscious mind reeled, telling him that sudden movements would spell the end of him.

There was, of course, another one present. The woman-  the fair-skinned, dark-haired woman whom he could swear looked just like Phantom, he thought – stood with a practically nihilistic glee. She was walking casually around the area, humming to herself, writing notes on a tiny pad of paper, checking her submachine gun to make sure it was full. All the while, she kept a firm eye on her captive. It was obvious she was bored, but her skills – her skills were simply too honed to let her guard all the way down.

She fiddled with a handheld computer. He wasn't sure what this woman was doing, but it was probably not intensive enough to take her eyes off of him or her finger off the trigger. Sneaking away wouldn't be an option.

"Mnrgh." He mumbled 'drat' to himself.

The woman strode over, her hand still on her weapon, putting away her device. "You seem familiar," she said. "Which is, you know, to be 'spected." Her tone was terse and short; her voice was much higher and casual than Phantom's haughty tenor, as well. She was almost like a normal person – a normal, albeit slightly shy person."

"There's someone like you where I'm from, too." Her words left her mouth like a waterfall. Premeditated, he thought; she wasn't used to delivering speeches or monologues.

"I'm from just a block away, in the grand scheme of things. Just a tiny universe between here and home. Doesn't make sense?"
She paused. "Yeah, prob'ly wouldn't. I guess you're a smart guy. We're from another universe. Duh.  And now we're here.  Not too hard. Our universe isn't that great. We like it here. Everyone's so vulnerable and easy. It's like…" she trailed off.
"It wasn't long ago that Miss Hisa told me that you people were fun and that we should invade. Or something.' 

She sighed, pantomiming Hisa.exe – long, flowing hand movements, swooping facial expressions, and an over-the-top exuberant tone of voice. "Come now, Spectre! Spectre, my love, my undying bodyguard, we must push on! Just over that hill, in that universe, lies  bounty rich in potential resources and helots, my sunshine!" 

Spectre dropped a low, grumbling chuckle. "Sorry, hon. S'not your fault, and all that. Just your lot in life; being from this particular universe. Sucks, don' it? Being my hostage and all that?" She nuzzled Alex's chin with the butt of her kukri.

She put a finger to her lips, miming the action to 'stay silent'. She winked as she turned her back on Alex, taking a call from her personal communicator.

Alex had an idea. And, of course, it was completely bereft of common sense. So long as movie and TV logic held out, his idea was sound and good. Of course, if it didn't, he would be in for a long fall and a sudden stop.

Alex chewed his gag. It was flexible and spongy rubber, shoved deeply between his jaws. He hadn't seen her put it on, but if she really was a reverse version of Phantom, then she would have used an electronic lock, immune to lockpicking and openable only by the right resonance and tone – usually sung by Phantom herself.  Of course, there was always an emergency code –a safeword, if you will; one that had been taught to Alex himself for 'emergencies'. (Though of course he knew that using it meant stiff reprimands from the mistress herself.)

"Mmngh… mngh… nngh." Alex moaned in three short spurts in modulating tones. It was worth a a shot – saying the 'safeword' backwards…

Alex heard a click coming from behind his head. 

***

"Let us speak candidly, Silky," said Hisa.exe. The woman's white eyes turned blue as she settled into a calming, casual tone. She took a seat on a luxurious lounge chair, trying to look casual. It all felt horrifically staged, a theatrical production made of nothing but puppets. Hisa had been trying many thigns; to look impressive, to look charming, and so forth. 

"All this frippery is really for your benefit," she chided. "After all, you were taken with one purpose in mind; indentured servitude towards me." She squeaked, rubbing against the chair slightly. It let out an oily sound as she rubbed against the leather of the chair.

"My plans are not so grandiose as my counterpart Phantom's  are. Merely a nice, cozy complex with which I can enjoy my hedonistic time and ways without interruption.  This universe was ripe for the taking – everyone is so much more polite and trusting." 

She was just so awkward with her speech. She had an undefinable accent. It settled into Silky more and more with each passing second; she truly was alien to her sensibilities. No matter how much she might look or act just like a close friend, there was something fundamentally different, fundamentally disquieting and unsettling about her, the way she moved, the way she spoke… Hisa.exe rambled on, Silky 's mind busy extrapolating the ramifications of parallel universes.

"…and hence, we would start our conquest of this world one step at a time. First, we are to do away with any versions of ourselves. That means you, Link, Hisa, "Phantom", Maurice – you all need to go." Hisa.exe made a cutting motion across her throat, indicating her violent intent. Silky also noticed a particularly spiteful inflection when she mentioned Phantom.

"Of course, we will allow a few exceptions. Like you, my dear;  we could do something much more interesting than you than simply seeing to it that you are no longer a liability."

A pair of black-and-white-plated henchmen appeared from behind Silky, and firmly took her arms behind her back. Hisa.exe continued spouting her monologue. 

"A songbird, if you will; it is, I can assure you, a fun profession; one that may even last you a lifetime. Really now, take it from my perspective," she said, tracing a finger over Silky's supple chest. "Who would not love to have a nicely packaged singer in one's midst? To say the least the aesthetic ramifications of having a fine lady as yourself tightly bound, displayed, and unable to escape, mind you. It adds a real physical beauty to your aural delights, yes."

"Do you like singing, Silky?" Hisa.exe did not bother waiting for a response. "You will, at least. Pleasure as well as pain are powerful motivators – both for you, and for my new toy, Alex." She grinned a thin, menacing smile, glancing over her veiled threat on her friend's life. "I can assure you, it will be a delicious experience-  starting with some rather stringent singing lessons until you can sing with a positively superhuman talent. The lessons might be a bit difficult to stomach, at first; likely strapped down within an inch of your life with positively crushing restraints-  all except your mouth and ears in order to properly fill my lair with beautiful music."

Hisa.exe shoved the uniform closer towards Silky, practically shoving it  into her face. 

"And this will be your costume. I know your kind are rather long-lived, so after a stringent processing it will be your clothing for the next few years. Custom-fit to your every curve and body part, my sweet. You will notice several features about the hood. You might need to read music once in a while, but we can deal with that. For the rest of your existence, you will notice the hood is eyeless, and has a nice, thick rubbery covering over every inch of your body save the chin and an area for your nose and mouth. It will frame your mouth nicely, I can promise you."

"But you will not be doing much seeing. Songbirds really don't need to ogle at parties or the like, mmm? We can have other captives apply your makeup – after all, we want what little of my newest pet's face that can bee seen to be pretty. We even have feathers and plumes which we will be attaching to the suit. It was Spectre's idea, actually; to give it a sort of exotic flair."

"The arms and legs are not going to be bound at all times… just for most of them. Yes, the armbinder and legbinder are going to be tight. Very tight. Tight enough that you ,dearie, might not be able to keep your balance if we stood you up. Oh, which is why we even have a cage for you."

Hisa licked her lips. "It is not quite done yet, but it will be soon. Gilded with gold and silver; a tall metal cage suspended from the celing of my lair. You might be let out to be played with or to play an instrument, but really, you might try and fly away." Hisa laughed at her own joke.

"You will not need to balance much; we can simply strap you into the nice little seat. A few dozen straps and you can even swing back-and-forth like the playful songbird you are. Not to worry; it will not be uncomfortable. We can line and pad it all with latex, rubber, leather, perhaps the occasional pillow; no need for you to be uncomfortable during your long stay."

Hisa.exe blushed slightly, dropping the heavy rubbery costume in Silky's lap. "So, my dear, perhaps you could show off your repertoire right now? To give me a sample of what your future will hold." 
Silky was silent.

"Ah, good. I was hoping I would have an excuse. We figured that you might be a bit unproductive, so we covered the suit with electrodes. When you sing nicely, they will pulsate and deliver the most pleasurable sensations, especially to your groin. But when you sing poorly…" 

There was a crashing sound, and a banging sound – and then a loud 'thud'. At the top of the doorway, Alex stood, clutching the kukri and firearm that Spectre had been holding just a few minutes prior.

Inches away from him,  and the source of the loud 'thud,' was Spectre – her skirt and shirt ruffle, her hands securely cuffed behind her back, and her mouth obscured by a thick ball-gag which had just recently been forced into Alex's mouth. She squirmed at his feet as he chuckled.

"She still sings better than you!" Alex pulled his weapon, and Hisa.exe reciprocated.
However, only one shot was fired – at the ceiling above, sending a shower of sparks through the air; distracting her just long enough for Alex to pull off several more shots, dislodging one of the many support pillars from its base and toppling onto Hisa.exe.

The two henchmen scattered, leaving Hisa.exe trapped and struggling beneath a pillar. Airrider scooped up the heavily dazed Silky and chuckled. "By my logic, that was a total cliché. It could only have been topped if I had thrown a chandelier on you." She grinned. " But by mirror universe logic, that was a downright groundbreaking tactic."

"Also, by my logic, we will experience some sort of horrific cliché as I slowly walk away, my friend in tow, leaving you here to squirm, mostly uninjured, stuck underneath that pillar while your lover, Spectre, moans right over there. But by mirror logic – well, I think that's still where you are." He grinned.

Alex and Silky began jogging away, up and out of the tiny bunker and out of the cabin. He paused only briefly, trying to fit an appropriate one-liner in as hard as possible. On the way out, he turned, albeit briefly, and chuckled. 

"Hisa, what a mirror and I both have in common?" He waited a half-second for a response. "When we see you, we both crack up!"