The plane touched down and rolled to a controlled stop.  The first 
class had seen three interesting passengers, it just hadn't known it. 
The three disembarked and stepped to one side.  Wesley looked to 
Mandrake, "I take it that was you travelling incoqnito."   
	Mandrake smiled.  "Usually Lothar flies.  Where is your friend meeting 
us?"
	Dian flashed a smile at the two of them.  "Our friend, Mandrake, is 
over there."
	Just inside the doors of the terminal stood a dashingly dressed man.  
His dark hair was cut in the latest fashion.  There was a seriousness to 
him.  Dian walked ahead of the two men and the other man's face 
brightened.  "Another jewel graces Opal", he said. "Hello, Dian."  The 
two of them cuddled.
	"Hello, Ted," Dian replied.
	Wesley stood behind.  "Mandrake, meet Theodore Knight.  Opal 
City's premiere schmoozer."

Sand and Stage Mist Issue 3
Jewelled Underworld
Written by Mark Peyton
Edited by Erik Burnham

Shade's Journal July 16th 1939
	I sit at my desk as another day of enforced rest passes.  An 
outside force has looked onto Opal.  A force I had heard tell of in the 
East. One Fu Manchu.  No immortal as I can ascertain.  Nevertheless I 
have heard tell that his men are sweeping through Opal's underworld.  
It's this sort of thing that attracts the gaudy clad heroes if one is 
not careful. I might be forced to intervene in this situation if it 
threatens the city.  If not I will attempt to catch up on my reading 
while I enjoy some tranquility before the storm.  



	Wesley sat in an armchair as Ted rested against the fireplace.  
"We'll wait until the evening before we go and look.  Thank you for the 
help, Ted."
	Ted flashed a smile.  "You I might turn down, Wes, but not Dian. Besides 
I might ask for your help sometime.  Your friend seemed tired."
	"Yes I noticed that.  As long as he is up to strength to 
accompany the Sandman tonight, that is all that matters."
	"How does it feel?   All the theatrics of the costume?"
	Wesley considered his answer.  "I'm not entirely sure.  It's like a 
dream, quite fittingly.  I'm sure there is some thrill to be derived from 
it, but to me it's a need to do it or I would lose myself.  Dian does it 
partly to prove herself.  Why do you ask?"
	"Just some idle thoughts. It is what us playboys are supposed to do."
	"Rather than... now what was it? Oh yes, harness energy.   I'm 
sure that made an interesting line with your latest conquest."
	"I must be growing up. I seem to be settling down with one girl.  A lot 
of changes are happening, Wes.  Who knows where I'll end up?"
	Wesley looked seriously at him, "Be careful, Ted, this isn't as easy as 
it might appear. I don't want to have to bury you."
	"Mr Dodds, I could almost believe you cared. I'm not a headstrong boy. 
I'll let my head rule."
	Wesley smiled. "Well, settle for a nice easy city like Opal and leave 
the professionals to the real cities."

OPAL ART MUSEUM

	Dian turned the page and pulled a picture from her folder. The two 
items were obviously connected. Upon the parchment stolen from New York 
was embossed the symbol of a rising sun.  The picture in the 
Museum's records here in Opal of a ceremonial dagger showed it 
possessed the same symbol on one side of the pommel. That was one 
connection. The second was that they'd both been stolen. However, it 
seemed, not by the same group. The Opal job according to the local Police 
had been done by a lone individual. No sign of accomplices. If it was 
only one person, that person was now in serious trouble.

OLD TOWN, OPAL CITY

	'Foxy' Hawkins ran like a man possessed, leaping over the homeless 
man who had camped down in the alley for the night. He glanced back 
nervously over his shoulder, saw nothing, but kept running. He turned 
onto Burnham Street and slowed to a walk. He'd head for a bar, give 
himself some time to think. And decide what to do about the dagger he'd 
stolen and all those crazy 'gooks' after him.

A RENTED WAREHOUSE, OLD TOWN

	Kyle lit a cigarette and blew out the match. He'd asked for some 
additional men to aid in combing the city for the thief. The explanation 
he'd given was that he wanted Caucasian men to arouse less suspicion 
than his Master's loyal henchmen. He inhaled deeply. Truth was he felt 
isolated surrounded by all those Asians. Sure, he might be racist, but 
it was a minor crime. If he was to carry out his duties, he'd need 
backup. Backup he felt comfortable with. Being a minority wasn't 
something he felt comfortable with.

LATER, OLD TOWN

	Dian pulled away in the car, leaving the Sandman and Mandrake standing 
under a streetlight. The Sandman had the smaller gasgun in his hands, 
his hat pulled down and his suit impeccable. Mandrake was bedecked in 
his normal tuxedo with a black bowtie. He looked a little bedraggled, 
not his usual suave self. The Sandman looked around and walked down the 
alleyway. Mandrake tapped his top hat down onto his head and followed, 
fastening his longcoat. They made their way down flights of steps, 
heading further into the alleyways and winding streets. The Sandman 
always stayed ahead, silently moving, searching thoroughly. He waved his 
hand to stop and Mandrake complied.
	Around the corner stood two men talking. One was obviously shorter 
than the other and of Asian origin. The Sandman turned to Mandrake and 
pointed to another alley across the way. He swept his finger in a small 
arc in the air and pointed to the magician. Mandrake nodded and started 
to run slowly back up the alley. The Sandman meanwhile listened.
	"We've been traipsing through this place for the best part of two 
hours. You had any luck?"
	The small Asian man replied, in heavily accented English, "The Master 
will grant us success."
	"Instead, we're following that Mist fool."
	"The Master's wisdom is not to be questioned."
	"I wish I had your ..." Across the alleyway, the sound of several 
approaching footfalls echoed out. "What was that?" 
	The footfalls increased, now resonating from all but one of the alleys. 
The two men turned into the green gas of the Sandman. They stepped back, 
coughing and spluttering as he fired another blast.
	"None can escape the dark dream of the Sandman." The Sandman stepped 
forward as the gas swirled around him. He grabbed the taller man. "Where 
can I find this Mist?"
	The man was about 5'9", dressed as a dock worker, his cap pulled down 
over his deepset blue eyes. He coughed, fighting for air,  "Go to... 
[cough] ...Hell, freak."
	The Sandman looked at him through the eyepieces of the gasmask, 
silently. He brought up the gasgun and struck the man across the head. 
The man crumpled to the floor as the Sandman let him sink. The man's 
partner had gathered enough wits about him and was attempting to escape. 
He sprinted up the other alleyway.
	His footsteps alerted the Sandman. "Stop him, magician," he called, 
bending to examine the unconscious man.
	Mandrake watched as the man ran towards him. The smaller man was 
looking over his shoulder, focused on the sleeping gas. Mandrake lifted 
his cane, catching the runner's legs. "I think my gasmasked friend wants 
you to stay," he said, as the small man tripped and skidded into the 
wall.
	The Sandman picked through the man's pockets as Mandrake walked down 
towards him. "The other one is up there. Found anything?"
	Wesley pulled up the mask. "I think so. Go and get a shoe from that 
other guy." Mandrake nodded, a little perplexed, and walked back to the 
unconscious body. He brought back the shoe to Wesley, who turned it to 
examine the sole.
	"What are you looking for?" Mandrake asked.
	Wesley looked up and said, "I wanted to check if they both had the 
same residue on their shoes. You notice that it had been raining. The 
fact they both had this on their shoes means they spent time in a 
specific place. That means we know where to look next."

ELSEWHERE IN OLDTOWN
	
	'Foxy' Hawkins closed the door and blew out the light. In his hand, 
he cradled a gun. It was going to be another long night. His friend had 
arranged this place to hole up in. All he had to do was see the morning 
in, then he could try and get out of Opal.

	Mandrake tapped out his cigarette and looked at the Sandman. He found 
it strange. When Wesley was around, he seemed a little nervous, almost 
apologetic. His movements were stronger as the Sandman. He was certainly 
more taciturn. Mandrake lit the cigarette and thought he was glad he 
knew Wesley. Being solely partnered by the Sandman would not work. The 
important thing was that this man could help him find that Mist fellow.
	The Sandman looked over the warehouse across the street. The 
streetlight was broken, so it was only the illumination from the 
surounding area and the moon that cast any light onto the building. The 
Sandman looked back to Mandrake, who inhaled sharply. The gasgun blew 
out a thin mist into the courtyard and the two made their way across to 
the warehouse. Mandrake whispered, "Shall I open it or you?" The Sandman 
looked blankly at him and Mandrake bent to unfasten the lock. He pushed 
the door open slowly, listening for any creaking.
	Mandrake stepped in looking about. The Sandman followed him in and 
said, "The rats have deserted this hole." Mandrake nodded.
	Wesley pulled the mask from his face. "They seem to have left in some 
sort of a hurry. Is there anything you can do to help? A trick perhaps?"
	"I don't do that sort of magic. Illusions are my forte. Where do we try 
next?"
	Wesley shrugged. Mandrake's eyes glanced up and he held up his hand, 
"Listen, do you hear that?" Wesley opened his mouth and Mandrake said, 
"I can hear somebody running. He sprinted out into the courtyard where 
the mist was dissipating. Wesley pulled the mask down over his face and 
the Sandman followed.
	Into the courtyard ran a man whose suit was muddied at the bottom. 
Mandrake stepped into his path from a patch of fog which had 
mysteriously thickened. The man jumped back in shock. "You have to help 
me. My friend is in trouble." The Sandman stepped forward and the man 
jumped back again. 
	"I admit I screwed up. I told them where he is."
	Mandrake looked fiercely at the man, "You told who?"
	The man sputtered, looking between Mandrake and the Sandman.  He had 
muddy red hair and wore a cheap suit.   "They wanted Foxy.  Some guy 
paid me, then went off with some Japs."
	Mandrake's face looked stern, while the Sandman simply stood watching.  
"What did this man look like?"
	The man floundered as he said,  "He was about 5'7", greying hair. It was 
almost not quite there.  It sounds strange...."
	Mandrake cut in.  "It sounds like our man.  Where is this Foxy?"


	Kyle handed over the bundle of notes to the clerk.  "You saw nothing 
and you'll hear nothing.  You understand?"
	"Yeah I just spent the evening listening to the wireless."
	Kyle smiled.  "Good."  He stepped out of the office, lighting a new 
cigarette and closed the door. To his side stood one of the Tong. Now 
Kyle might not like the Tong much, but in this man he saw danger. The 
scar across Li Tsung's face was worn with pride. It gave a slight mad 
stare to his left eye. Li Tsung was a man Kyle did not want to cross. In 
fact, he was highly tempted to become good friends with him. "The men 
are in position?" Kyle asked.
	Li Tsung nodded. "We just wait for you."
	Kyle blew out a ring of smoke and walked towards the stairs.

	The car screeched as it roared down the quiet streets of the Oldtown. 
Mandrake held onto his hat as the Sandman floored the pedal. "It's a good 
thing you looked over a map before we came out," Mandrake said.
	"When you are hunting those who disturb the sleep of the just, it is 
important to know the ground." The Sandman's voice echoed from the mask 
and Mandrake attempted to detect any sort of emotion.
	The car slowed as they neared their destination. The two got out. 
Mandrake walked briskly but stopped. "Stand close to me," he said. "We 
won't need gas to cover our approach." The Sandman looked up to see a 
watcher on the roof.
	The Watcher cast her gaze around and noticed nothing unusual. She had 
been stationed there from their arrival. Her noticing nothing unusual 
was Mandrake's goal as he covered the Sandman and himself in a shroud. 
They moved quickly across. Reaching the building, Mandrake dropped the 
illusion, breathing deeply. The Sandman looked over him, offering no 
comment. Mandrake unbuttoned his coat and breathed a little easier.
	A commotion had started inside. The two could hear yelling and banging. 
The Sandman moved to the door and shoved hard. The person on the other 
side fell back as the Sandman walked through. He lowered his gun and 
shot gas into the man's face. "We must be on our guard for we enter a 
nest of vipers." Mandrake nodded, his hankerchief covering his mouth.
	The stairwell was quiet. The commotion seemed to be contained in 
the upstairs. Mandrake put his hand on Sandman's arm. "I need you to 
distract them. I think I can get him out by myself." The Sandman nodded 
and unfastened his coat. Mandrake ran up the stairs as he left his 
partner behind. It was in the quieter moments he caught glimpses of 
Wesley behind the Mask.
	He jogged up the flights of stairs quickly, but cautiously. As he 
looked up, he saw a foot overhanging. Closing his eyes, Mandrake pushed 
forth his illusion. The dull ache was still there. Concentrate. 
Concentrate on the job at hand. He crept up the stairs and held his 
breath as he moved past the first guard. There were three men on the 
landing, all Asian. One proudly wore a black scorpion tattoo weaving up 
his arm. This was not the same tattoo he had seen in New York.
	Inside the room, whose door lay ajar, the form of a man flew across. 
A strong male voice said, "It will only get worse. Hand over the dagger 
and I won't turn you over to my friend. He is very anxious to get hold 
of you."
	There was silence. The silence was rudely broken by an explosion. Flame 
gushed into the sky outside. A mist in the form of a man appeared at the 
doorway. "Check that out and report back."
	Mandrake stood, hidden to the world, considering the man who had led him 
this far. The mist man turned back into the room and Mandrake followed 
him in.
	Kyle looked down on the battered and bruised man. The man looked up at 
him shifting between nothingness and a physical form, and glanced behind 
at Li. Kyle wondered who was causing the most discomfort. He was 
allowing himself to regain some corporeality. That was a mistake. 
Mandrake watched Kyle shift his body back and forth, bringing his cane 
down hard as Kyle's body hit normality. As the blow struck, Mandrake 
cast down some tricks of the trade - flash powder and smoke pellets. He 
ran forward and grabbed the man on the ground. The man allowed himself 
to be dragged.
	"Run!" Mandrake said. The man complied and they turned heading up the 
stairs.
	Reaching the top, Mandrake kicked the door and emerged on the rooftop, 
looking out over the Oldtown. He sprinted forward and pulled back the 
man as he wavered on the roof's edge. The glow of the fire could be seen 
and behind, the sound of pursuit.

TO BE CONTINUED
	Next time - Wesley and Mandrake escape and find a clue to the next 
stage of their mysterious quest. A special guest star from another YY 
title and clues to what Fu Manchu is after.


Thanks this issue go to Jericho Vilar who was this titles editor for a 
bit, not nearly as briefly as he was my other title's editor.  I think 
Erik is the new editor but don't quote me on that.

The email if you are interested is keravin44@hotmail.com