The Riddle of the Puzzler, Part 3

Ultra Woman attempts to solve this.

Welcome to Olympus City, where super-powers, physics-defying tech, and unearthly creatures are all possible now. Human nature, however, remains unchanged.

No one is born a perfect superhero, but a few strive to live up to the ideal anyway.

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Previously: Bart transformed his brother into a jigsaw puzzle and was just about to empuzzle Evelyn as well. But then Ultra Woman knocked on the door.

Part 3

Ultra Woman ambled into the workshop, admiring all the unorthodox contraptions and partially assembled gizmos as though she were strolling through a museum of modern art. The short young woman wore a fierce bird-of-prey symbol on her emerald tights, and her striking red hair matched her cape.

“Nice lair you’ve got here. Impressive set design. You clearly went all in on the mad scientist aesthetic.”

Bart leaned down and pressed the gun to Evelyn’s temple.

“No closer, Ultra Woman. Don’t know how you found me, but—”

Ultra Woman feigned surprise. “You mean you were trying to hide? Oh geez, that’s embarrassing. Next time you abduct a beloved member of the Olympus City regional theatre community who has pretty much zero enemies other than you, maybe don’t bring her straight to your brother’s place of business. That’s all hypothetical, of course, since there’s never going to be a next time.”

Despite the cold steel digging into her skin, despite never having realized just how tiny the superhero was, Evelyn felt herself relax in Ultra Woman’s presence. The masked woman projected an air of unshakable confidence.

“Put the gun down and let her go,” Ultra Woman said, floating on the spot, arms crossed.

“No,” Bart said, tightening his grip on Evelyn. “No, I don’t think I will. If I pull this trigger, even you couldn’t get here fast enough to stop the bullet.”

Ultra Woman narrowed her gaze, appearing to look down on him. “Maybe not, but you wouldn’t want to deal with me right after you did that.”

“But I’ll have made my point. Leave now or I shoot.”

Evelyn felt his clammy fingers clawing into her arm, and she believed him. Bart would pull that trigger. He would have pulled it long ago, on someone, if only an excuse and opportunity had come together.

Ultra Woman stared at them for a long moment.

“Okay,” she said calmly. “I’ll leave, but you’ll see me soon.”

The superhero disappeared in a blur of motion. Bart eyed the entire workshop, searching for any evidence of the emerald-and-scarlet costume. All was still and silent, other than a pair of thudding hearts.

“In the cube,” Bart said. “Now.”

Evelyn crawled over the pieces of Doyle as Bart brushed them away.

He slammed the cube shut.

“There’s still some of him in here,” Evelyn said, squirming around the stray pieces.

“I don’t think that will make a difference.”

Bart grabbed the lever. Evelyn begged him to reconsider—her choice was between begging and contemplating a transformation into a jigsaw puzzle. So, she begged.

He looked at her, eyes hardening, hand squeezing the grip. “You shouldn’t have taken my theater from me.”

Evelyn shielded her face, bracing for some unknown impact, as if anything could help.

Then everything went dark.

Is this it?

It couldn’t have been. She didn’t feel like a puzzle, whatever that felt like. She felt the same, felt whole. The sole change was the darkness.

Bart cursed, and the curses deflated into pitiful yelps as scuffling commenced.

The lights returned. Bart was tied to a chair, fuming. The gun lay on the floor, its barrel bent in half. And Ultra Woman was standing outside the cube, her kind, concerned face peering in.

“Are you okay?” she asked, pulling the cube open.

Evelyn lay there, her entire body feeling like jelly. It was better than the alternative, at least. She eventually remembered to breathe. “What …”

The ropes disappeared in a blink, and Ultra Woman helped her out of the cube.

“I located the cube’s secret weakness.” The confident smile belonged in a cartoon or comic strip. “Breaker switches. I flipped them all.”

For a second, Ultra Woman had looked like Miranda, but now Evelyn saw that the two were merely the same size. Those weren’t Miranda’s brown eyes behind that domino mask; they were green and narrower. Different facial shape, too—less round.

“Thank you.” Evelyn snapped out of her trance. “His brother.” She pointed to the puzzle pieces scattered across the floor. “This puzzle is his brother.”

Ultra Woman turned to Bart, whose smugness resurfaced.

“Tell me how to reverse it,” she said.

He sneered, hesitating a moment. “Assemble the puzzle. You’ll want to set it across the base of the cube. Then close it up and pull the lever again.”

Bart seemed a little too helpful, and not due to any contrition. He was too sure of himself, and Evelyn tried to figure out why.

The answer lay in the puzzle pieces, the thousands of pieces. This could take hours.

Not for Ultra Woman, though. She zipped back and forth, blending into a streak of emerald and scarlet as she swiftly assembled the puzzle inside the cube. Evelyn had heard about Ultra Woman’s powers, but to witness such superhuman speed with her own eyes—it was miraculous.

Evelyn watched Doyle’s image take shape, particularly the pained expression on his face, the moment of transformation frozen the instant before the puzzle broke apart.

Is he still feeling that?

Ultra Woman set the final pieces into place, plugging the last few holes. Once the complete image lay there, she closed the cube and pulled the lever.

The light show repeated, identical to the previous one. Evelyn looked away until the glare cleared.

A thoroughly disoriented Doyle, fully restored, tottered within the cube. Ultra Woman offered him a hand, and he clambered out.

“Sir? How are you feeling?”

Doyle was fidgeting like a small, frightened animal. He hardly blinked. “It was so cold and empty. There was nothing. Nothing at all.” He seized Ultra Woman’s shoulders and clutched her cape. “Destroy the cube. Destroy it!”

“Wait!” Evelyn said. “Ollie, my co-worker. We need to fix him first.”

Ultra Woman turned to Bart and cast such a look that the words were superfluous. “Where is he?”

“I scattered the pieces throughout the city,” Bart said, utterly relaxed while bound to the chair. “Most should be easy enough to find. Go get them.”

“I will,” Ultra Woman said before rushing off.

She kept zipping in and out of the workshop as Ollie’s image gradually took form, much more slowly than Doyle’s had.

Doyle kept muttering about how sorry he was. Bart told him to shut up, but Doyle was babbling now.

That could have been me. The thought was becoming too familiar for Evelyn’s taste.

She focused on Ollie, as well as Ultra Woman’s astonishing speed. The superhero was slowing down, though. She initially returned every few seconds with more pieces, then every ten seconds. Twenty now.

But she always returned with more of Ollie. She was saving him, collecting the pieces no matter where Bart had hidden them. It was like watching Hercules perform one of his Twelve Labors.

Evelyn tried to imagine what it was like from Ultra Woman’s perspective. How many relative hours was she devoting to helping a man she probably had never even met?

Ultra Woman had given a speech during the dedication of Olympus City Memorial Park. Evelyn was there, toward the back of the crowd, and remembered the superhero’s words. “I let these people down, as well as everyone who lost their home that night,” she had said.

How those names must have weighed on her. Not even super-strength could lift guilt or regret.

The blur solidified. Ultra Woman caught her breath. The demigod breathed after all.

“Where’s the rest of him?” Ultra Woman asked, eyes drilling into Bart.

Evelyn inspected the puzzle. Most of Ollie was there, but a scattered dozen pieces were missing, like he was riddled with oddly shaped bullet holes.

The smirk returned. “Disposed of,” Bart said. “Nothing but ashes left. You could try restoring what remains of him, but I’m not sure how long he’d last.”

Ultra Woman grabbed him by his collar and hoisted him. The entire chair rose a few feet off the floor.

“Why should I believe you?” she said.

“Because you know you would have found those pieces by now … if they still existed.”

Ultra Woman was damp, Evelyn noticed. She must have even searched the waters around Olympus.

“It’s true,” Doyle said, staring at the floor.

Ultra Woman dropped him. The chair landed upright, sending a painful jolt up Bart’s spine. She turned to the brother.

“What are our options?”

Doyle gave a pitiful shake of the head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Evelyn went pale. Oliver Neal’s name would be cast in stone as the latest victim of Olympus City’s twisted new nature. She had barely gotten to know the man. Now she’d never forget him.

“I didn’t kill him,” Bart said. “He’s still technically alive. If you all can’t figure out how to restore him, then you’re the ones who are condemning the guy.”

Ultra Woman ignored him. She turned to Evelyn and set a small hand on her arm. The hand, strong enough to break down a door, felt so gentle now.

“I can’t promise anything,” Ultra Woman said, “but I know people who might be able to help. It may take some time, though. I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever you can do.” Evelyn gazed at the puzzle, trying to wrap her head around the fact that it was a person. Most of a person. Ultra Woman had come so close. Another miracle with limits. “No one deserves … this.”

Bart let out a chuckle. “Like I said. There will be consequences.”

The glib statement, the cocky tone—it sparked her anger. Evelyn wanted to smack Bart around like he had smacked his brother, like he had smacked her.

But then she noticed Ultra Woman’s anger, contained but no less potent.

“Yes, Bartholomew Bloman, there will be consequences. For you.”

“It’s the Puzzler. And you’ll be hearing more from me—because I know you’ll never destroy that machine so long as there’s a chance to save that man. One of these days, I’ll even get you in there. The Puzzler will defeat Ultra Woman, then Mr. Amazing—well, I guess Fantastic Man’s already a goner.”

A miniature whirlwind enveloped Bart, and the jigsaw-themed suit disappeared, replaced by a nondescript T-shirt and slacks.

“Who’s the Puzzler? There’s no Puzzler,” Ultra Woman said. “Have fun in prison, Bloman.”

*****

Ultra Woman had collected the pieces of Ollie in her cape and flown him away, to some lab at the edge of the city.

That was a few days ago, and Evelyn hadn’t heard anything. Standing in the park, staring at the monument, she wondered how long it would take for the scientists and doctors to declare his condition hopeless. The board had already named an interim managing director.

“Evelyn?”

Miranda was there. She approached tentatively, face full of concern.

“I heard about what happened,” she said. “I can’t believe Bart Bloman did all that. I only met him a couple of times, but he seemed … nothing like that.”

“He was an actor before he was a director.”

They both stared at the monument, absorbing the names, until Miranda broke the silence.

“Did you live in this building? The one that was here before …?”

“No, never stepped foot in it.” Evelyn turned her gaze to the top floor of the neighboring apartment building. “I live in that one.”

Miranda’s wide eyes traveled the short distance from the building to the monument. “Oh. Wow. I am so sorry.”

“Nothing you could have done. And I wouldn’t be the one to apologize to anyway.”

Miranda truly did seem so much older than before. “I suppose not.”

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Next: Cat on a Hot Bright Moon