"Damned If You Do...:"
Sep. 28th, 2024 05:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Damned If You Do..."
11/3-11/5/1977
I.
In the New York City area, Harak had been robbing occultists of various Midnight War talismans and rare grimoires. In doing so, he had unnecessarily decapitated two of them. This had attracted the attention of Kenneth Dred, who in turn informed his new protege Jeremy Bane all about Harak the Damned.
In an estate overlooking the Palisades of New Jersey, Janos Harak lived with his two murderous sons (in their 40s), his two devious daughters (in their 30s) and his third wife (a decrepit 70). Yet he himself looked to be no more than 25. Harak was a short brawny man with a shaved head, thick black mustache under a hooked nose and thin white scars over his arms and hands. He wore expensive tailored Brioni suits, had a gourmet chef on the premises and collected both vintage cars and classical statuary.
Harak was in fact 180 years old. The cursed Gremthom hatchet he wielded was a Darthan talisman which siphoned lifeforce from its victims to give him extended longevity and vitality. He had always been a mercenary on the battle fields of Europe and a hired assassin in the New World. Harak and his wife consciously raised their children to be heartless psychopathic killers as well. The two brothers and two sisters constantly plotted against each other, which Harak exploited to his advantage. All the intrigue and double dealing was worthy of a royal court.
Dred had other work at that time for Katherine Wheatley, who was in Massachusetts. Bane was sent alone to bodyguard the next likely victim. That night, he stretched out on the roof of a cottage on the outskirts of Wappingers Falls in upstate New York. The overnight vigil had him excited since at this point he was still eager to prove himself to Dred, who was the first person to really show trust and respect for the young street orphan. In the middle of the night, a strange figure emerged from the shadows below. Wearing a black leather outfit, carrying a round silver shield on his left arm and a straight sword in a scabbard at his hip, the intruder had on a gleaming silver helmet crafted in the shape of a human skull.
Leaping down from the roof the roof, Bane pounced on the man but found for once he was equally matched. He was much faster and more experienced at fighting, but the intruder was not a novice either and had the protection of a shield, helmet and breastplate under the uniform. Minutes flew by and both men began to tire from the all-out exertion. They stepped back and, watching each warily, both dropped to the ground to catch their breath.
Almost simultaneously, Bane and the stranger threw insults at each other and swore they would protect the man in the cottage. This made them stop and re-evaluate the situation. When Bane mentioned he was working for Kenneth Dred, the stranger laughed. In a flare of blue gralic force, the black uniform and weapons vanished to leave him in simple slacks and a white dress shirt. He gave his name as Larry Taper, the latest to wear the Silver Skull.
At this point, Bane still knew little of the Midnight War. Taper gave him a brief explanation of the Silver Skull role in the Darthan Age, of its ensorcelled armor and shield, of the sword Chalcemar with its chips of Ensalir in the blade and of the helmet which stored memories of the hundreds of men who wore it over the millennia.
Taper's habit of using unnecessarily long and obscure words annoyed Bane, who asked him to knock it off and speak English. The sound of a car approaching made both men rush into the shadows at the far side of the cottage. Its headlights dimmed by tissue paper taper over them, the long gleaming Mercedes glided up to the house, parking exactly where Bane and Taper had been fighting a few minutes earlier. A tall man and a buxom woman, each wearing simple dark clothing, emerged with a canvas bag and silently crept around to the side of the house.
With a flash of blue light, the uniform of the Silver Skull reappeared on Taper. That flare alerted the Haraks and the son snapped off a single shot from a small Beretta. The bullet grazed Bane's ribs but it wasn't enough to slow him down as he crossed twenty feet in a blur and blasted out a savage left cross which dropped the man straight down in a heap. Bane wheeled sharply and was surprised to see Taper thrust his sword entirely through the woman's body.
The Silver Skull pulled his weapon free as the Harak daughter sagged to the ground.
"You shouldn't have killed her yet," Bane snarled. "We need them to answer questions."
"You observe my blade was unsullied by her crimson fluid?" replied Taper. "It's the Judgement of Chalcemar. My trusty weapon was ensorcelled by the Eldanarin themselves so it passes through antagonists without doing any permanent trauma. I assure you, this malefactor is merely enjoying a refreshing siesta."
"You're full of surprises, all right," the Dire Wolf snapped. "I can see I'm going to have to carry a dictionary when dealing with you." He examined the Harak son and decided the man would be likely be all right.
After some argument, Bane and Taper agreed to take the Haraks to Kenneth Dred to see what he wants to do next. They tied and gagged the prisoners, placed them in the back seat of the Mercedes and drove off, then quickly stopped to remove the tissue paper from the headlights. When they got to where Bane had left Dred's old Pontiac, they transferred the prisoners and abandoned the Mercedes.
Taper's own MG hidden not far away was a two-seater, so it would obviously not be practical to put the prisoners in his car. He agreed to meet Bane at the building on East 38th Street; Taper had been there twice before, before Dred had hired Bane.
Not long before dawn, the two Haraks recovered to find themselves in a guest room at Dred's building, securely tied to sturdy chairs. There was some negotiation back and forth before they were allowed to call their father. Harak was eager to fight a Silver Skull hand to hand. He wanted to claim the sword Chalcemar and the helmet with its store of memories. An agreement was reached. Everyone would meet at midnight on the empty grounds next to Harak's estate, where a duel between Harak and Taper would decide what would happen next.
II.
Bane hated the whole idea, calling it stupid, but reluctantly agreed to go along. That night, as soon as he and Taper emerged from Dred's car on the unmown field, Harak's other son and daughter opened fire from behind some trees with rifles. Taper was protected by his armor and shield, while Bane's enhanced reflexes made him jump ten feet to one side and dive to the ground. As he rolled to one side, Bane snapped off a few shots. There was a low groan and a second later, a man's voice screamed, "Valentina! You killed Valentina!"
"What did you expect?" Bane called back, hoping for a muzzle flash to give the remaining shooter's location away. No such luck, he thought.
A deep, authoritative voice rang out, "Andreas! Stand down. She will be avenged, I swear it but right now, this moment is between myself and the Silver Skull."
Striding forward to a clear space which would serve as an arena, Harak was an ominous figure in tough boots and leggings, wearing a molded steel breastplate which left his muscular scarred arms free. His head was covered by a plain helmet of a modified Corinthian style with wide eyeslits. In his right hand, he lightly swung a hatchet with a curved handle two feet long.
The hatchet blade and handle were of a reddish metal which shimmered hotly in the night air. Even this early in his career, Bane recognized that cursed substance used only by the Darthim. "That's Gremthom," he growled. "Be careful, Taper."
"Solicitude is heartfelt," the Skull said.
"Whatever!" replied Bane, even more surly than usual.
Unbuckling his belt and drawing the sword Chalcemar, Taper tossed the scabbard aside to avoid being encumbered by it. He was studying how Harak moved, how he balanced himself, how easily he hefted that weapon. With slight uneasiness, the Skull admitted to himself he was facing an opponent with obviously greater experience and skill.
"Allow me to disabuse you of one misconception," he announced as they drew closer to each other. "Claiming my accoutrements is not feasible. Should I perish in our little encounter, my uniform, helmet and sword will all promptly vanish and not be seen again until they materialize on someone deemed worthy. Who," he added, "will certainly not be you."
"Nice try," Harak the Damned scoffed. "I will be seeing how well your helmet fits in a few minutes."
Watching the two men circle each other, Jeremy Bane felt complete disgust. He would have had no problem putting a bullet or two in Harak's leg and dragging him to Mr Dred to answer a few questions. Fair fights and showdowns were for suckers. But, he had to admit to a little curiosity about how this would play out.
When they were ten feet apart, Taper and Harak froze into position. Then, abruptly as tigers pouncing, they leaped headlong at each other. Sword and hatchet clashed and rebounded and clanged together again. With each contact, a shrill unearthly howl echoed in the air.
III.
From the start, it was clear that Larry Taper had his hands full with this opponent. He had only been the Silver Skull for two years. And, although he had been taking lessons and working out with dedication, he was up against someone who had one hundred and fifty years of experience on battlefields and as a hired killer. Everything Taper tried, Harak had an instant counter for. Worse, the Damned was both stronger and quicker. Those arms were tireless and his legs quick as a dancer's. Repeatedly, Harak swept Taper's thrusts aside and struck himself in a continuation of the same motion.
The Silver Skull's one advantage was that he carried the round shield on his left forearm. Taper tried to make the best of this without great results. Whenever the blade of the sword and the hatchet touched, they shrieked in rage and pain. The gralic force in the Ensalir and Gremthom were bitterly inimical to each other. Red and white sparks shot away from the two ancient weapons.
Watching from nearby, Bane began to feel a grudging admiration for Taper. The guy had heart. He was like a boxer taking a pounding but refusing to give up. Bane liked that attitude. Then the Dire Wolf swung his attention toward the trees where the son still lurked with that rifle.
Harak seemed to have lost all patience as the fight went on. He went on the attack. The Damned smashed blow after blow with all the strength of his thick arms, striking so swiftly that an observer would have followed the strokes only by the steady clangor of metal on metal. But Taper was holding his own. Each murderous blow rang on the shifting shield or swished past him as he sidestepped. Harak tried to wrench the sword blade out of Taper's grip by trapping it in the hatchet's long handle without success.
Harak cursed in some Eastern European dialect and went berserk. He pounded on the Skull's shield like a blacksmith working on an anvil, trying to beat Taper to his knees by the sheer weight of his attack. But no panting came from within the sinister skull-shaped helmet and Taper seemed to have gained confidence.
Then Taper simply threw his sword away. Harak followed the gleaming arc of the blade as it spun away, gasping from his exertions. He obviously thought his opponent had gone insane to do such a thing. He snorted and raised the cursed hatchet high overhead for a killing stroke. In a shimmer of blue light, the sword appeared again in Taper's gloved hand and he lunged forward to drive the point through Harak's exposed neck under the helmet.
As the Damned sagged to the grass, Taper yanked his weapon free. There was no blood on the blade. Chalcemar's judgement had spared Harak's life. The Silver Skull could not keep himself from dropping to his knees. His arms and legs were trembling from adrenalin and relief. An instant later, the Skull uniform and sword vanished to leave Taper back in his mundane civilian clothing.
"How'd you pull that trick with the sword?" When Bane spoke, it made Taper give a start. He had entirely forgotten everything but his foe in the heat of the duel.
"It's...a stratagem I devised by necessity," Taper explained. "I can summon not only the full uniform but any one item. Sometimes I summon the helmet to listen to the voices within, sometimes just the shield if I'm suddenly attacked."
He was obviously having trouble rising and Bane silently helped pull him up by one arm. "I must admit to considerable chagrin that it seemed my only hope of survival, let alone triumph," Taper went on.
"He's a tough guy, all right," Bane agreed. "I have to give you credit, you stood up to him like a champ."
"Thanks.. Jeremy. Whew. Wait a minute, there's still the one who was shooting at us!"
"Aw, I snuck up on him and cracked him over the head with my gun barrel," the Dire Wolf said. "He was watching you guys fight. The woman bled out. Now we can haul both the father and the son to Mr Dred, and he can figure out what to do with all of them. There's still two tied up in the car. We'll probably hand them over to that Department 21 Black bunch."
Larry Taper kicked at the fallen hatchet disdainfully. "To be honest, all I care about now is a hot shower and about twelve hours sleep."
"I like it better when you talk like a normal person," Bane said.
Taper sighed. "I guess I'm too tired for big words."
9/25/2024
11/3-11/5/1977
I.
In the New York City area, Harak had been robbing occultists of various Midnight War talismans and rare grimoires. In doing so, he had unnecessarily decapitated two of them. This had attracted the attention of Kenneth Dred, who in turn informed his new protege Jeremy Bane all about Harak the Damned.
In an estate overlooking the Palisades of New Jersey, Janos Harak lived with his two murderous sons (in their 40s), his two devious daughters (in their 30s) and his third wife (a decrepit 70). Yet he himself looked to be no more than 25. Harak was a short brawny man with a shaved head, thick black mustache under a hooked nose and thin white scars over his arms and hands. He wore expensive tailored Brioni suits, had a gourmet chef on the premises and collected both vintage cars and classical statuary.
Harak was in fact 180 years old. The cursed Gremthom hatchet he wielded was a Darthan talisman which siphoned lifeforce from its victims to give him extended longevity and vitality. He had always been a mercenary on the battle fields of Europe and a hired assassin in the New World. Harak and his wife consciously raised their children to be heartless psychopathic killers as well. The two brothers and two sisters constantly plotted against each other, which Harak exploited to his advantage. All the intrigue and double dealing was worthy of a royal court.
Dred had other work at that time for Katherine Wheatley, who was in Massachusetts. Bane was sent alone to bodyguard the next likely victim. That night, he stretched out on the roof of a cottage on the outskirts of Wappingers Falls in upstate New York. The overnight vigil had him excited since at this point he was still eager to prove himself to Dred, who was the first person to really show trust and respect for the young street orphan. In the middle of the night, a strange figure emerged from the shadows below. Wearing a black leather outfit, carrying a round silver shield on his left arm and a straight sword in a scabbard at his hip, the intruder had on a gleaming silver helmet crafted in the shape of a human skull.
Leaping down from the roof the roof, Bane pounced on the man but found for once he was equally matched. He was much faster and more experienced at fighting, but the intruder was not a novice either and had the protection of a shield, helmet and breastplate under the uniform. Minutes flew by and both men began to tire from the all-out exertion. They stepped back and, watching each warily, both dropped to the ground to catch their breath.
Almost simultaneously, Bane and the stranger threw insults at each other and swore they would protect the man in the cottage. This made them stop and re-evaluate the situation. When Bane mentioned he was working for Kenneth Dred, the stranger laughed. In a flare of blue gralic force, the black uniform and weapons vanished to leave him in simple slacks and a white dress shirt. He gave his name as Larry Taper, the latest to wear the Silver Skull.
At this point, Bane still knew little of the Midnight War. Taper gave him a brief explanation of the Silver Skull role in the Darthan Age, of its ensorcelled armor and shield, of the sword Chalcemar with its chips of Ensalir in the blade and of the helmet which stored memories of the hundreds of men who wore it over the millennia.
Taper's habit of using unnecessarily long and obscure words annoyed Bane, who asked him to knock it off and speak English. The sound of a car approaching made both men rush into the shadows at the far side of the cottage. Its headlights dimmed by tissue paper taper over them, the long gleaming Mercedes glided up to the house, parking exactly where Bane and Taper had been fighting a few minutes earlier. A tall man and a buxom woman, each wearing simple dark clothing, emerged with a canvas bag and silently crept around to the side of the house.
With a flash of blue light, the uniform of the Silver Skull reappeared on Taper. That flare alerted the Haraks and the son snapped off a single shot from a small Beretta. The bullet grazed Bane's ribs but it wasn't enough to slow him down as he crossed twenty feet in a blur and blasted out a savage left cross which dropped the man straight down in a heap. Bane wheeled sharply and was surprised to see Taper thrust his sword entirely through the woman's body.
The Silver Skull pulled his weapon free as the Harak daughter sagged to the ground.
"You shouldn't have killed her yet," Bane snarled. "We need them to answer questions."
"You observe my blade was unsullied by her crimson fluid?" replied Taper. "It's the Judgement of Chalcemar. My trusty weapon was ensorcelled by the Eldanarin themselves so it passes through antagonists without doing any permanent trauma. I assure you, this malefactor is merely enjoying a refreshing siesta."
"You're full of surprises, all right," the Dire Wolf snapped. "I can see I'm going to have to carry a dictionary when dealing with you." He examined the Harak son and decided the man would be likely be all right.
After some argument, Bane and Taper agreed to take the Haraks to Kenneth Dred to see what he wants to do next. They tied and gagged the prisoners, placed them in the back seat of the Mercedes and drove off, then quickly stopped to remove the tissue paper from the headlights. When they got to where Bane had left Dred's old Pontiac, they transferred the prisoners and abandoned the Mercedes.
Taper's own MG hidden not far away was a two-seater, so it would obviously not be practical to put the prisoners in his car. He agreed to meet Bane at the building on East 38th Street; Taper had been there twice before, before Dred had hired Bane.
Not long before dawn, the two Haraks recovered to find themselves in a guest room at Dred's building, securely tied to sturdy chairs. There was some negotiation back and forth before they were allowed to call their father. Harak was eager to fight a Silver Skull hand to hand. He wanted to claim the sword Chalcemar and the helmet with its store of memories. An agreement was reached. Everyone would meet at midnight on the empty grounds next to Harak's estate, where a duel between Harak and Taper would decide what would happen next.
II.
Bane hated the whole idea, calling it stupid, but reluctantly agreed to go along. That night, as soon as he and Taper emerged from Dred's car on the unmown field, Harak's other son and daughter opened fire from behind some trees with rifles. Taper was protected by his armor and shield, while Bane's enhanced reflexes made him jump ten feet to one side and dive to the ground. As he rolled to one side, Bane snapped off a few shots. There was a low groan and a second later, a man's voice screamed, "Valentina! You killed Valentina!"
"What did you expect?" Bane called back, hoping for a muzzle flash to give the remaining shooter's location away. No such luck, he thought.
A deep, authoritative voice rang out, "Andreas! Stand down. She will be avenged, I swear it but right now, this moment is between myself and the Silver Skull."
Striding forward to a clear space which would serve as an arena, Harak was an ominous figure in tough boots and leggings, wearing a molded steel breastplate which left his muscular scarred arms free. His head was covered by a plain helmet of a modified Corinthian style with wide eyeslits. In his right hand, he lightly swung a hatchet with a curved handle two feet long.
The hatchet blade and handle were of a reddish metal which shimmered hotly in the night air. Even this early in his career, Bane recognized that cursed substance used only by the Darthim. "That's Gremthom," he growled. "Be careful, Taper."
"Solicitude is heartfelt," the Skull said.
"Whatever!" replied Bane, even more surly than usual.
Unbuckling his belt and drawing the sword Chalcemar, Taper tossed the scabbard aside to avoid being encumbered by it. He was studying how Harak moved, how he balanced himself, how easily he hefted that weapon. With slight uneasiness, the Skull admitted to himself he was facing an opponent with obviously greater experience and skill.
"Allow me to disabuse you of one misconception," he announced as they drew closer to each other. "Claiming my accoutrements is not feasible. Should I perish in our little encounter, my uniform, helmet and sword will all promptly vanish and not be seen again until they materialize on someone deemed worthy. Who," he added, "will certainly not be you."
"Nice try," Harak the Damned scoffed. "I will be seeing how well your helmet fits in a few minutes."
Watching the two men circle each other, Jeremy Bane felt complete disgust. He would have had no problem putting a bullet or two in Harak's leg and dragging him to Mr Dred to answer a few questions. Fair fights and showdowns were for suckers. But, he had to admit to a little curiosity about how this would play out.
When they were ten feet apart, Taper and Harak froze into position. Then, abruptly as tigers pouncing, they leaped headlong at each other. Sword and hatchet clashed and rebounded and clanged together again. With each contact, a shrill unearthly howl echoed in the air.
III.
From the start, it was clear that Larry Taper had his hands full with this opponent. He had only been the Silver Skull for two years. And, although he had been taking lessons and working out with dedication, he was up against someone who had one hundred and fifty years of experience on battlefields and as a hired killer. Everything Taper tried, Harak had an instant counter for. Worse, the Damned was both stronger and quicker. Those arms were tireless and his legs quick as a dancer's. Repeatedly, Harak swept Taper's thrusts aside and struck himself in a continuation of the same motion.
The Silver Skull's one advantage was that he carried the round shield on his left forearm. Taper tried to make the best of this without great results. Whenever the blade of the sword and the hatchet touched, they shrieked in rage and pain. The gralic force in the Ensalir and Gremthom were bitterly inimical to each other. Red and white sparks shot away from the two ancient weapons.
Watching from nearby, Bane began to feel a grudging admiration for Taper. The guy had heart. He was like a boxer taking a pounding but refusing to give up. Bane liked that attitude. Then the Dire Wolf swung his attention toward the trees where the son still lurked with that rifle.
Harak seemed to have lost all patience as the fight went on. He went on the attack. The Damned smashed blow after blow with all the strength of his thick arms, striking so swiftly that an observer would have followed the strokes only by the steady clangor of metal on metal. But Taper was holding his own. Each murderous blow rang on the shifting shield or swished past him as he sidestepped. Harak tried to wrench the sword blade out of Taper's grip by trapping it in the hatchet's long handle without success.
Harak cursed in some Eastern European dialect and went berserk. He pounded on the Skull's shield like a blacksmith working on an anvil, trying to beat Taper to his knees by the sheer weight of his attack. But no panting came from within the sinister skull-shaped helmet and Taper seemed to have gained confidence.
Then Taper simply threw his sword away. Harak followed the gleaming arc of the blade as it spun away, gasping from his exertions. He obviously thought his opponent had gone insane to do such a thing. He snorted and raised the cursed hatchet high overhead for a killing stroke. In a shimmer of blue light, the sword appeared again in Taper's gloved hand and he lunged forward to drive the point through Harak's exposed neck under the helmet.
As the Damned sagged to the grass, Taper yanked his weapon free. There was no blood on the blade. Chalcemar's judgement had spared Harak's life. The Silver Skull could not keep himself from dropping to his knees. His arms and legs were trembling from adrenalin and relief. An instant later, the Skull uniform and sword vanished to leave Taper back in his mundane civilian clothing.
"How'd you pull that trick with the sword?" When Bane spoke, it made Taper give a start. He had entirely forgotten everything but his foe in the heat of the duel.
"It's...a stratagem I devised by necessity," Taper explained. "I can summon not only the full uniform but any one item. Sometimes I summon the helmet to listen to the voices within, sometimes just the shield if I'm suddenly attacked."
He was obviously having trouble rising and Bane silently helped pull him up by one arm. "I must admit to considerable chagrin that it seemed my only hope of survival, let alone triumph," Taper went on.
"He's a tough guy, all right," Bane agreed. "I have to give you credit, you stood up to him like a champ."
"Thanks.. Jeremy. Whew. Wait a minute, there's still the one who was shooting at us!"
"Aw, I snuck up on him and cracked him over the head with my gun barrel," the Dire Wolf said. "He was watching you guys fight. The woman bled out. Now we can haul both the father and the son to Mr Dred, and he can figure out what to do with all of them. There's still two tied up in the car. We'll probably hand them over to that Department 21 Black bunch."
Larry Taper kicked at the fallen hatchet disdainfully. "To be honest, all I care about now is a hot shower and about twelve hours sleep."
"I like it better when you talk like a normal person," Bane said.
Taper sighed. "I guess I'm too tired for big words."
9/25/2024
