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Post by Lissilambe on Sept 26, 2008 13:36:17 GMT -5
Arcadia, California
The earliest hours of April 8th, 1942
A dozen figures darted ahead into the shadows and stormed the small, two-story house, securing the first floor swiftly and efficiently, to herald the arrival of a new figure. He was swathed in dark colors, the deepest green woven throughout with scarlet red threads shaped into vicious snapping, snarling, fire-breathing dragons. A black hood draped over the strange man's face, small mean eyes staring out from the holes as he observed the residents of the building.
The family stared up fearfully at the invaders, each but the leader armed with a vicious looking short sword, while the robed, hooded figure reached into a pouch hung from his belt and pulled out a large, round peach. He rolled the heavy fruit in his fingers as he observed the mother, the daughter, each clinging uselessly to either side of the man of the house, Jiro Shimada. He grinned as he looked into the eyes of the small, scared man.
<"There is no need for fear, Shimada-san,"> the hooded figure declared as he stood before the family, the pale peach clutched tightly by two fingers against his thumb, his arm outstretched. <"You are about to make a great contribution to the Rising Sun, as a true child of Nippon.">
<"I'm an American! You can't do this! I reject your offer!"> Jiro shouted back, voice cracked in fear as he tried to keep his family behind him from their uncomfortable, crouched position.
The Dragon King merely ignored him however, his other hand tracing invisible, arcane symbols in the air around the fruit, his lips murmuring ancient words of great power, the peach seeming to flicker in the dim light of the room. <"Take the fruit and bite into it,"> the mystic commanded, two of his minions looming menacingly over Jiro's wife and daughter. The implication made clear, Jiro merely growled at the leader of the Black Dragon Society and took the peach in hand. He felt a spark, then more tingly, caress his fingertips, and he slowly lifted the heavy fruit to his mouth while the Dragon King reached into another pouch and pulled out a small, pocked black stone. Beneath the hood draped over the mystic's head, the King smiled eagerly, awaiting the birth of his champion.
<"Bite into the fruit, and release the essence within,"> he instructed as he felt excitement surge through his body. He held the stone out in Jiro's direction now as he waited for Jiro to do as he was commanded. He could feel the Oni's power within the stone, struggling to escape, the small rock trembling in his palm.
Finally, Jiro's teeth tore through the thin skin and sunk into the juicy fruit, puncturing the soft flesh and a rush of energy poured out over and around him. He cried out, recoiled and dropped the peach as the energy lashed out at Jiro and the King watched and nearly laughed in glee as the stone trembled more fearfully now. Then the Dragon King's eyes widened in shock as the energy flowed past Jiro, ignoring him.
<"No! Momotaro's descendant is there! Take him, enter the mortal shell!"> he screamed and then went silent as the energy obeyed the sorcerer, crashing and coiling around Jiro.
And then dove into teen-age Miya Shimada with an unearthly screamed soon echoed by the Dragon King.
Santa Anita
Temporary Military Barracks
Lieutenant Colonel Robert Myers was a veteran of the Great War, and had engaged in a number of other military actions in the years between for his country. Despite his advance into middle age, he was very fit, and his experience made him a dangerous modern warrior. This experience, these instincts honed by years of military service, woke him out of a sound sleep, blurry eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom of early morning, quickly catching 3:21 in the morning on his nearby clock. The eyes fell quickly on the cause of his alarm, body tense and ready for action as the tall shadow stepped forward, glassy eyes staring down on him. Unlike many on the streets though, Myers found himself unnerved by the sight, well used to gas masks at this stage.
"Sandman. How did you get in here? This is a restricted area!" Myers was very angry as he sat up and glared back at the quiet, unmoving shadow of a man. There were no features he could discern, which upset him even more. Rather, Sandman stood there, an indistinct column of shadow with round glassy eyes boring into him.
"The night is my domain, Colonel," Sandman said in a low voice as he took a half-step forward, seeming to glide in the semi-dark. "Explain to me the meaning of what occurs here. Explain to me by what right you uproot your fellows in mockery of the Founding Fathers' ideals."
"I have nothing to explain to you, mystery man," Myers shot back, angry at being interrogated in such a fashion. "You're here at my sufferance, for USO fodder. You've no right to question an officer of the United States Army!"
"I have every right to question questionable actions." He called on all of his meditative training to maintain calm in this confrontation. He had to remain calm, to hold onto the slender space of moral high ground. "I am the haunter of dreams for terrible men. At this moment, that numbers you unless you explain yourself to me!"
"You bastard! Those Japs are a danger to our war effort, or hadn't you noticed the fact that they bombed us four months ago?" Myers got to his feet, rising to his full six feet and finding himself staring into the glass eyes. "We're at war!"
"With the enemy. Those of the Rising Sun, from across the ocean," Sandman countered, not giving an inch, instead gliding a half-step closer, his fingers curling around the trigger of his gun. "Not with our own people. This way lies madness. You make a dread mistake, and it will come to haunt you. Be assured."
"I'll take that chance, Sandman. You've voiced your opinion. Now get out!" This order was given with the barest hint of concern, as the officer found himself taking a half-step back from the shadowy figure now closer to him. "And don't think that mask will keep you safe from me if you try something like this ever again!"
"Don't think that silver leaf will shield you from my gift of nightmares if I judge you guilty," Sandman countered as his thumb flipped a switch at the side of the bulky firearm. He drew it from his trenchcoat in a practiced motion and before Myers could do more than open his mouth to protest, smoke engulfed him. He coughed and sputtered and staggered to the window. As the smoke dissipated, so had the shadow that was the Sandman, and Myers was left alone, and rattled, and angry.
Barker Street
the crack of dawn
The Atom had been unable to sleep either after the near-confrontation with Sandman at the hotel. Instead, he'd put on his costume and stalked out into the night, using the breeze of a cool night (though cool was a much different meaning in the southern California climate, he realized quickly under his leather cowl) to help him work through his troubles. He'd found little activity though, even in those areas where the streets still had inhabited homes. Instead, he was left alone with his thoughts as he tried to figure out what was angering his friend, and what problem there could be in the country just protecting itself from an obvious threat.
"Yes!" he exclaimed as he noticed movement in an abandoned house. His fist smacked into his other hand as he grinned under his mask. "Some action at last. Damned looter taking advantage of a bad situation. Gotta love it." He moved up quickly from the street, through the backyard, and into the house through the opened back door that had first gained his attention.
He moved quickly through a small kitchen and into the parlor, his hand reaching out to grip the intruder's shoulder and spin the criminal around.
"Wha--?" The intruder gasped in surprise as he felt powerful hands spin him around and then a powerful punch cracked into his jaw, staggering him back and he fell hard to the floor.
"Got you, you little geek!" Atom growled as he stepped up to the prone man with both fists tight. "Robbing these folks while they're forced outta town? That's pretty low, even for a snake like you!"
The front door burst open as two soldiers stepped in with rifles out, and Atom noticed that the man he'd punched was also a soldier, eyes still dazed a bit from the blow. The soldier had dropped the bag of silverware with a clatter, and he scurried back on his rear to keep from the mystery man.
"What's going on here, Atom?" One of the newly arrived soldiers glanced down to the soldier on the floor then back to the mighty mite, not sure what to make of events.
"He attacked me! He's gone crazy!" the soldier cried out as he staggered up to his feet and moved behind his armed friends.
"You were robbing these people!" Atom protested as he took a step toward the three soldiers. The clicking of rifles being cocked made him stop, but the armed men still stared down at the five foot tall mystery man in fear. This was a member of the Justice Society, and a powerful masked crime-fighter from New York City's worst neighborhoods. They had no clue if their rifles would even slow this brute down, and they really didn't want to find out.
"I was bringing them their stuff back," the soldier tried to explain, though no one present believed him at all. "That's all. Gotta keep these people's things safe, right?"
"You little liar!" Atom was furious now, anger surging through his body, and they could see veins flaring in his bared arms. He took another step forward, the soldiers stepping back and raising their rifles.
"How do you know? Where's your proof? Huh? Ain't this America? Innocent until proven guilty? Huh? Well?" The criminal soldier countered, feeling more courageous now that he was safely behind two armed comrades-in-arms.
Atom stopped short and flexed his fingers as he listened to the kid's words. The little thief was right, and he knew it. They both knew it. "Get out of here," Atom growled as he stood his ground.
"Right. Got it. C'mon, Frank, get out, you've overstayed your welcome," one armed corporal said to the first soldier, who was already having a vicious bruise appear on his jaw. "Well overstayed it. Sorry, Atom. This was all a bad mistake, I promise you."
"Yeah. All a big mistake." Atom watched them leave and let his eyes drift down to the silverware scattered on the floor. He bent down to pick it up, sort it out, try to put it back as the thief's words ran through his head. Innocent until proven guilty, Atom thought. That's what Sandman's problem is, isn't it?
Arcadia Hotel
As the sun rises...
John Tane stirred slowly as his alarm went off. He wiped the sleep from his eyes, yawning heavily as he slapped at the clock. He stood up and then slapped the clock again as he continued to hear the alarm ring. Only when the third time failed to shut his clock off did he realize that the alarm was from the streets outside. He pulled on his pants and slipped the red suspenders over his shoulders as he looked out his window. There were thin columns of smoke from various points around Arcadia, and within the extent of his vision he could see soldiers dashing around.
He stepped back and his thumb reached up to rub the ever-present sheriff's badge on his left suspender. “Say you!” He called, and with a resounding crack, the magical genie commanded by Johnny Thunder appeared, human but pink-purple from the waist up, appearing as the legendary western hero of yore, while his lower body was a tangle of raw power resembling a large bolt of lightning. He hovered before his master and descendant as he spoke.
"What's up, Master John?" Jonathan Tane's spirit spoke as he glanced out the window and shook his head slowly, sadly.
"Say, you wouldn't happen to know what the hay's going on, do you, T-Bolt?" Johnny Thunder asked as he joined his genie in staring out of the window.
"Well, that would be a lot, Master John," the thunderbolt replied. "The Dragon King has tried to create a champion of the Japanese people by reawakening an ancient bloodline. The Black Dragon Society is now running around the town attacking army garrisons to draw attention away from his champion's actions, keeping your partners Atom and Sandman running and busy. And you overslept as usual."
"Yeah. I guess I did," Johnny chuckled ruefully. "What's this champion doing?"
"Well, she's out in the Pacific, drawing the ocean waters to her so she can sink as much of the local coast under a vast tidal wave. Or more accurately, a tsunami, which I might add, is the title she has assumed." All the while, the thunderbolt hovered near the window and continued to scan the countryside to gather the information his master requested.
"Golly, that can't be good, can it? I mean, talk about messing up the war effort," Johnny said as he realized what his genie was telling him. "That would be worse than Pearl Harbor. We've gotta stop this Sue Nammy, the evil witch!"
"No, Master John. She is only a little younger than you, and the Dragon King has twisted already hurt thoughts for his own ends," Thunderbolt explained. "She is no witch. She thinks she's doing right in saving her folks from relocation."
"Relocation? What...okay, wait, I know! That's those abandoned houses that have Sandman all upset right?"
Thunderbolt grinned at Johnny with pride and patted his descendant's head. "Good work, Master John. We may make a true hero out of you yet."
"Thanks," Johnny smiled in return, proud of himself, since he was too often too easily confused by all this sort of information. "Say, you need to get out and help my friends while I get to Sue, okay?"
"As you command, Master John."
On the streets
as the morning drags on
The Atom and the Sandman had been on the streets when the first of the Black Dragon Society struck, destroying a troop truck. From that moment, the war overseas had struck home, with soldiers trying to pin down the attackers with military precision, boxing them in to instead confront masters of stealth.
And through it all, the mystery men battled through the havoc, slowly unraveling the patterns of attack, making their way to the center of the assaults, to the source of the disturbances. It was after leaving a trail of beaten and unconscious Dragons that the two team-mates met up and gazed on the building that was their target.
"Is there any sign of Johnny?" Atom asked the Sandman as they took stock of the two-story white house on the other side of the street.
"None. I can only assume he's responded to the disturbance as well, and may be somewhere else," the Sandman answered.
"Probably overslept again," Atom answered with a wry chuckle. "Not like we're gonna need his genie against these guys anyway."
"I would not be so sure," Sandman cautioned. "These are agents of the Black Dragon Society, a powerful secret sect from our Pacific enemies, and their king is said to be a powerful sorcerer. We must not treat him lightly."
"Right. Got it. Jap Doctor Fate. Man, let's hope your info's over-hyped this time." He glanced toward the building. "Shall we go? I'll charge in, let you do your sneaky thing?"
Sandman nodded in response and saw the movement of Atom's mask that revealed the cocky grin of his short companion. The two moved out, the Atom charging across the street and aiming for the front door. He lowered his shoulder and prepared for the jarring shock that came from battering down a solid wood object. He was not prepared to bounce off the solid wooden door though, and he stumbled back and grabbed the aching joint. "What the hell?"
He glanced up and watched as the hooded form of the Dragon King appeared at a window, a glittering, gleaming Mother-of-Pearl shell held between two fingers. "I think not, man of mystery," the Dragon King sneered at the bruised Atom. "Your science will not penetrate my sorcery, man of the atom. My kami will whip the winds to protect me."
Sandman appeared from around the house and moved up to Atom, staring up with unblinking panes at their enemy. "It is true. I can find no way into the house."
"I think that's my job, folks," the Thunderbolt said as he appeared between them, a purplish-pink arm around each mystery man's shoulders. "Oh Kami! Come out, come out, wherever you are!" He snapped his fingers and a shimmery face flitted out from the shell. "You don't have to listen to this guy anymore. You're not where you belong, you belong back over the sea. This is my land. So go...I release you." Again, the Thunderbolt snapped his fingers and the shell ceased to glitter as the air spirit gave an exultant cry. As the face flitted away, the eyes of the Dragon King grew wide with fear at the knowledge of what came next.
And come it did, as Atom and Sandman stormed the house. Gas flooded the front hallway, and several hard thuds resounded from falling Dragons as Atom took the more direct route through the window between the mystery man and the Dragon King. Glass shattered in all directions, cutting up the Atom's bare legs and arms, but he didn't care at all as he stalked up to the retreating master of the Society. As Sandman pivoted into the parlor, he heard his diminutive partner's angry voice and smiled, safely concealed by the unforgiving gas mask.
"How dare you? It's bad enough these folks are getting jerked around by the government, now you're gonna make it worse for them by thinking you can traipse your hob-nailed feet around our home?" Atom leaped into the Dragon King, fists flying furiously into his opponent's face. First came a sick crack from the King's nose, followed by a crunching that could only be teeth, and then powerful thuds into the left cheek. Sandman approached, followed by Thunderbolt, and both realized that the scene, though satisfying, was also wrong.
"Stop, my friend," Sandman said as he pulled Atom from the unconscious thug. "This isn't the Dragon King. It couldn't be. I have no doubt you could defeat him, but he's much more skilled in combat than this." Sandman bent down and tore the hood away, revealing a young, battered face. "This is a decoy."
"You gotta be kidding? He...you mean he's gone? That yellow coward!"
"Worse than that, mighty mite," Thunderbolt said as he zipped through the entire house, then returned and shook his head sadly. "No Shimadas. He must have taken them."
The Pacific Coast
at mid-morning
Johnny Thunder rowed hard, oars pulling his small boat out into the choppy seas as he focused on his task. He felt the spray of water, and the stiff breeze and stared out at the rear of the rowboat angrily.
"Darn it, next time I gotta remember to get T-Bolt to whip me up a motorboat," Johnny scolded himself as he continued his slow, difficult trek into the water. "Or hey...you know, I bet I coulda gotten him to bring me right to her. Darn it!" He looked around as he realized he was talking to himself, then returned to concentrating on his rowing.
"What in blazes are you doing out here, you crazy man?" Tsunami asked, her voice shocked and incredulous as she watched the small, fragile vessel bring its passenger closer and closer to the crashing waters swirling around her. She was upheld by a small column of water as the rest of the seas raged in a circle around her. Bottle-green chain armor clung to her young body, offering a sinful glimpse of her despite being covered from the shoulders to her feet. Bared shoulders and collar offered a hint of her cleavage and her long black hair fluttered in a radius around her head, and deep black eyes glared at the young blond American rowing toward her.
Johnny jumped slightly at the sudden voice, and then stopped rowing so he could turn around to face its source. He smiled at her and waved, a face delighted at the lovely young woman looking out through the spray of sea-foam. "Hey, Sue! Wow, good golly, you're pretty! T-Bolt didn't tell me you'd be a looker."
Tsunami, Miya Shimada, stared back at the strange man in red suspenders looking back at her with such an unusual look in his eyes. She spun slowly to match the way his boat was taken around her by the currents she generated. "Looker? Me? You think I'm pretty?" The waves softened a bit as she tried to adjust to his compliment. "Wait...no! You confuse me! You're trying to trick me!"
"Nope. Not at all. I'm Johnny. Johnny Thunder? From the Justice Society," he explained, as if there were other Johnny Thunders he could be confused with. "Maybe you've heard of them?"
"I know them," Tsunami growled as the waves grew more ferocious, and Johnny was pitched back into the boat, his head striking a wooden seat.
"Ouch! Hey, I'm just here to talk," John called out. "I mean, I'm no masher...really! I just wanted to tell you that this isn't a good idea. I mean it!"
"What's not a good idea?" Tsunami yelled back angrily as she spun the waves faster, the oceans gathering about her as she prepared her ferocious attack. "Protecting my people from your government pigs?"
"Well...okay, that sounds like a good idea, but it's not!" Johnny called back as he climbed back up to the pointed front of the boat, clutching it so he could keep looking her in the eyes as best he could. "Don't you see? You sink the coast under your tidal wave, and you're just the bad guy! The Army, the FBI, the JSA...we'll all have to beat you up and put you in prison. Then what will happen to your folks? What will happen to the other Japanese living here in the US? Huh? Tell me!"
The waves slowed, the swells lessening as Johnny's words reached her and she stared back. "I can avenge their indignities!"
"And let some Dragon King and his bosses try and take things over and make things worse? I heard some things from my buddy Sandman. He's been to the Orient, you know that? And he's mentioned what the women get to do over there. You mean that's better?"
Miya's eyes softened as she watched the poor man pitch into the seas, waves crashing over him, soaking him to the skin as his boat began to leak and sink, but he just kept looking at her. "But my parents."
"You're just gonna hurt them, right? Do they really want you doing this kind of thing? Really?" Johnny hoped this would reach her, because soon, he was going to be drowning, as he began to remember he couldn't swim.
The swells fell further, the waves growing weaker, less violent and returning to normal. "I won't put up with what you're people are doing to mine! I can't! No more than you could if our places were changed."
"Right. Well...okay, yeah, I'd be pretty upset to," Johnny answered and then the boat was gone and he began to splash furiously to keep his head above water. "But this isn't the answer!"
"I'll find one, Johnny Thunder!" she screamed back, furious at him for being right, furious at herself for being wrong. "I'll come back, and I'll have an answer, I promise you!" With that, the column of water vaulted her into the air and she then knifed neatly back into the ocean, vanishing into the dark waves as Johnny spat out salt water and flailed around helplessly.
"It's okay, Master John, I have you," Thunderbolt said as he fished Johnny out of the water with a net. In a flash, the pair were back on water, a drenched Johnny Thunder facing Sandman and Atom.
"Well, the good news is, Sue's not going to drown the coast in a huge tidal wave," Johnny reported as Thunderbolt held a hand out and heated the air around his master to start drying him.
"The good news? What's the bad news?" Atom asked.
"She's still out there, and she's going to come back some day. And I don't know what side she's gonna be on."
"Let's hope the correct one, John," Sandman said as the four figures looked out into the vast blue-green sea. "We can help her decision though. We'll find her parents, get them back from the Black Dragon Society safely. Show her that not all American's are out to hurt her people."
"Our people,"Atom corrected Sandman as they continued to look out at the rolling surface.
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Post by Lissilambe on Sept 26, 2008 13:37:28 GMT -5
Portsmouth City
Reizenstein Building
Liberty Belle stood at the edge of the roof and scanned the skyline with binoculars, staring intently into the stark mix of dark and light that marks a city at night. Her blue and yellow stood in contrast to the grimy rooftop, long since coated in soot and grease, eyes boring through the lenses she held to her face as if by willing it, she'd find what she was looking for.
This is ridiculous, she thought as she continued to sweep her magnified gaze around her. No one can be this hard to find, can he? To read about the drop in Portsmouth's crime rate, you'd think there were a dozen of this guy. Why can't I find him?
She returned the glasses to their pouch and slung her bag over one shoulder. She then threw out a grappling hook to a nearby roof and swung to a new perch. She was learning much of the city streets, and their roof tops, as she continued her search for the elusive Doctor Mid-Nite, and she wasn't very thrilled with the education. She darted through the skyline, looking for a new vantage point, enjoying the brisk cool breeze that fluttered her blond hair, and for one more time, admired the mix of styles that marked Portsmouth City. That admiration was quickly balanced out by the up-close look at the decaying streets below, the gritty and cracked reality beneath the veneer of art one initially saw from a distance, the obvious lack of care by her citizens, or at least, those in charge.
She stopped at a new perch and again pulled out her binoculars, but never got to lift them to her eyes. No, instead something much closer caught her attention, and she peered down at the alley ground far below, and the cries of pain she heard. Someone in a costume of black and brown was beating on some other man, someone in a business suit, and the mystery man was laying a particularly brutal hold on the other man's arm.
Quickly, she dropped from the roof to the ground, athletically leaping down the fire escape until she was crouched low on the other side of the victim, who was whimpering, his arm held in an ugly, and very incorrect, direction for an arm.
"Okay, let's just put the poor guy down before things get really ugly," Liberty Belle said in her firmest, authoritative voice. It was level, and cool, but edged in threat and the masked man stared back at her in surprise, not prepared to be interrupted by another costumed figure, and especially not the colorful Liberty Belle. With a quick knee to the man's sternum to drive the air from his lungs, the figure in black and brown dropped the victim and stared off defensively.
"What are you doing here? This is out of your turf, isn't it, Liberty Belle?"
"I recognize that symbol," she murmured as she saw the black spider shape emblazoned near his right shoulder. "Tarantula. You're that Tarantula I've heard being talked about. Doctor Mid-Nite's been after you."
She could see the blue eyes widen behind his wrapped mask, surprised to hear such notoriety already. "It's a misunderstanding, I'm sure. Our first meeting went badly."
"That's what happens between criminals and crime-fighters," Liberty Belle shot back and closed the distance, lashing out with a kick that caught Tarantula hard near his short ribs. He staggered back up to the wall and put a hand at his side as he tried to catch his breath, narrowly ducking a follow-up punch.
"Whoa, babe, listen to me, that's not what happened," he said as he ducked and rolled to the side. He quickly snapped up a metal trash can lid and used it to block another punch, making Belle grunt in pain and clutch her bruised knuckles. "I'm not a criminal."
"Explain the beatings you dish out then," Libby snapped back at him as she watched him toss the can to the side, and warily circle her.
"They're all bad people, they deserve it," Tarantula insisted, as he continued to circle her, waiting for her next attack, really not wanting to fight her. His ribs still hurt, and he realized he was well out of his league with this woman.
"Trying to muscle in and take over while Mid-Nite takes the mobs apart, is that your racket?" she asked, though she wasn't as sure of herself at the moment. He wasn't attacking, he wasn't trying to get away, and she wondered if there was more to this story between their first meeting she was unaware of.
"Hey! No way! Don't you even think about it!" Tarantula snapped up straight and quickly drew out his firearm, faster than Belle would have thought possible.
He's not much of a fighter, but he's got some skills going for him, she thought as she watched the barrel level at her, the small grapple tucked just inside looking wicked and cruel as it leveled off in her direction. Guess I shouldn't have let up. Can't believe this much is racing though my mind in this short a--
Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the click of the trigger and the wire sprung to life, lashing out just under her arm and spinning around to grip the other man's legs up tightly. He fell to the ground with a vicious thud as Tarantula started to pull him back like a hooked fish.
"Oh. Good." Belle let out a sigh of relief.
"Did you think I was going to shoot you? At this range, that hook would seriously hurt or kill you." Tarantula gripped the unconscious man's shoulders and held him tight as he smiled at the heroine. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I couldn't. We're on the same side. And anyway, you're the prettiest lady I've seen in a long, long time."
She smiled, relief still washing over her face. "Thanks, Tarantula. What's up with this guy?"
"When he wakes up, we'll get information out of him. He was headed to some big meeting I'd heard about, but haven't gotten a location yet. You game to play along?"
"Sounds like more fun than I've been having," Belle replied with a satisfied grin.
Roy's Bar and Grill
The bar was a nice one, despite the unsavory reputation. The people who frequented Roy's were people who liked good things, and so the cliché of the rundown, dirty old bar left the patrons cold. Instead, inside was well-lit, the bar was clean, the tables sturdy and smooth, and while smoke clung to the atmosphere from the multitude of cigarettes to be found, dingy and grimy were not to be found in this room.
The patrons were few in number tonight though, a half-dozen at best, hunched over mugs of beer or glasses of whiskey, some few chewing on sandwiches, and all had furtive, haunted looks in their eyes.
Roy himself was a tall, gaunt man with stringy brown hair that hung to the base of his neck and framed a sallow face and sunken black eyes. He was reading a paper on the bar, flipping page after page while waiting for the next request for service. He never noticed the darkness that seeped into the room under the main door. It billowed into the room relentlessly, spreading out and catching the attention of several more sharp-eyes patrons.
"Oh damn! No...no, no, no!" cried out one guy as he stood up quickly, sending his chair crashing to the floor. "Not this too!"
The door crashed open, pitch dark swallowing the city outside as it flooded the interior, a black, light-swallowing fog that clung to the entryway, all the customers now on their feet and panicking, as Roy looked up from his paper at last, and shook his head. He had seen this coming.
The shadowy shroud unwrapped slowly, a blood-red tunic becoming visible, and then the dark green cloak fluttering around the presence of Doctor Mid-Nite. Dull red embers burned for eyes it seemed as he stood at the point of the heavy darkness. Goggles, in truth, but to the scared customers, all they saw was the dull red gleam of his infra-red lenses, and they backed up.
"Explain to me what is happening! How are your fellows being drafted? Who has pried the grip of your bosses from the city?" Doctor Mid-Nite demanded to know, gloved fists balled up and ready for the inevitable display of manhood these made men were known for.
"What the hell are you talking about?" One of the patrons pulled out a switchblade from his pocket and stepped forward. "Speak like a regular Joe, why don't ya?"
The Doctor stepped forward and very quickly clutched the wrist of his challenger, fingers applying a firm grip to nerve clusters and the knife dropped to the floor. "Who is sending you people away? Simple enough for you, Vic?" Mid-Nite spoke low, husky voice rumbling in the gangster's ears as the unblinking, unnerving glass eyes glared into him.
Vic nodded and gulped as he started to lose sensation to his fingertips. "We don't got a clue. None of us, seriously! All we know is, the board's approving us, and the bosses, none of them can seem to touch these board guys. They can't be bribed."
"You know, Mid-Nite, there's talk that the crews are getting a new job offer," Roy said from his corner and Mid-Nite turned a bit to face the barkeep.
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. Don't got more than that, but I bet if you could dig up some of them, you'd get some idea. Rather than ruining my customers' appetites."
Doctor Mid-Nite released Vic's hand and glanced at the half-dozen gangsters. "None of you know more?"
They shook their heads and another figure, a squat man still sipping at his whiskey added, "It's like Vic says, Doc. About three, four months back now, the board got up some big ones somehow, and since then, we've been going overseas and the bosses, they've been getting more and more rattled."
Doctor Mid-Nite said nothing further as he spun around and marched out of the door, still enveloped in his darkness, the edges of his cloak being the last of what was swallowed before Roy looked over the shaken crooks. "Okay, guys. Next round's on the house."
"Rust Town," Portsmouth's industrial sector
Liberty Belle and Tarantula stood on a different roof top, far from their meeting place, staring down through a dusty skylight at the warehouse floor below.
"I am so tired of empty warehouses," Tarantula complained as they looked down on the crowd of people inside the building, a growing crowd as the pair of crime-fighters watched. "Where are all the secret undergound lairs all the other mystery men get to raid?"
"I've never raided one," Liberty Belle told her companion. "This might be my first warehouse, actually. In New York, I'm usually entering abandoned tenements or theaters."
"Really? Interesting. Maybe it's a cultural thing, or a regional difference," the masked man mused as he pulled out a notebook and pencil from his pouch. He made quick notes, an excited look on his face. "I'll have to check into that. Kind of like how people have soda in one place, and tonic in another."
"I...guess," Liberty Belle replied, glancing with curiosity at the notebook.
He put it away and then noticed the look on Belle's face. "I'm a writer. I want to write a book on mystery men, but they're pretty unapproachable. So I figured I'd give it a go, and maybe meet some, get some good solid material. I even have a title, 'Altered Egos'. What do you think?" He smiled with pride, a rather handsome smile Belle noticed for the first time, and she really let herself look over the rest of his body and face now. It was tough to make out in the dark, his costume helped him melt into the shadows very well. But she liked what she could see.
"Not bad. But we should focus on the gang below, and at least make that broken shoulder on that guy back in the alley worth it," Belle chided him gently as she smiled in return.
He nodded and they looked back down. "Looks like everyone's showed up. Haven't seen a new face in about five, ten minutes. What now?"
"Now we...what the hell?" Belle stared as she saw boxes being passed around the various criminals below them, and the two heroes were hard-pressed to understand what they saw. Each of those present below pulled out a mask, one of three kinds, and donned them.
"Shark mask," Tarantula noted as they tried to identify them. "Some kind of bird...a wolf, maybe..."
"Fox. I think a fox," Belle said. "What the hell is going on here?"
Then each of the criminals was given instructions by a new figure, a slender, well-dressed man in a black tuxedo and an ornate and very realistic fox mask. The heroes heard the crowd shout out in response and start out toward the doors.
"Now what?" Tarantula asked again, feeling out of his depth once more.
"Now you can both explain what you know before I kill you." They turned to face the voice, a man in a turn-of-the-century suit of cream and gray, an elaborate vulture mask covering his face, and the weapon of choice of gangsters everywhere facing them...the Tommy Gun. "Granted, I'm not all that bothered by skipping the first part." The icy chuckle carried through the late night air.
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