"Other Clay"
May. 17th, 2022 08:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Other Clay"
2/21-2/22/1978
I.
In his black outfit, Jeremy Bane was only a vague shadow in the gloom of a winter night. From out of the woods, he stepped over a low concrete curb onto the nearly empty parking lot. The long L-shaped building had only one window lit, by the front entrance where a Ford pick-up truck sat. Security guard, he supposed. He had come out of the brush by the white panel van that still stood where it had been that afternoon. It was locked. He wanted a look in that windowless back compartment but Auerbach's office came first. When he had been there only a few hours earlier, the Dire Wolf had quietly noted where the security cameras were located. Now he flashed across the dim parking lot and flattened against the white brick wall next to the window he wanted. He had brought his burglar kit with him from the Buick. Fastening clips to the wire on either side of the window, he bypassed the burglar alarm. The window had six panes of glass and he pressed his palm to the top center and gave the back of that hand a smart smack. The panel popped neatly out of its setting and dropped to the carpeting inside. He reached in and opened the turn lock, then slid the window open.
Taking two steps back, Bane dove neatly through the window and landed inside on toes and fingertips, completely silent. All this looked easy the way he did it, but that was only because years of practice and experience made it seem so. Being thin and athletic helped, too. The Dire Wolf found the pane of glass and pressed it back in place. It wasn't as secure as it had been but it would pass a casual glance. Bane tugged the window back down but left it open just a crack so it would be easy to fling up again in a hurry. From one of the inner pockets sewn in his black jacket, he drew out a pencil flash and narrowed its lense so it produced a spot of light no bigger than a penny. For the next hour, he searched the office.
When he had visited Dr Auerbach that afternoon, the conversation had been polite but not very helpful. Auerbach had heard of the three "Human Ant" murders and in fact had once met one of the victims. But he had nothing useful to suggest and had explained in great detail why a six inch tall man could not exist. He had gone over the cube-square law, mentioned that a brain that size could not possibly function with any intelligence greater than what, say, a white mouse possessed and concluded that there was not even any plausible theory by which a living being could be shrunk in the first place. Bane said that the two witnesses who had seen this Ant-man gave descriptions which matched-- despite the fact they did not know each other and that the police had not released that detail. Auerbach just scoffed and said he had to get back to work.
Bane had not argued with any of that. Six months of working for Kenneth Dred, investigating the Midnight War, had left him ready to deal with crazy events and worry later if they were impossible or not. Thanking the biochemist, he had fixed every detail of the office in his mind. Then he had driven into town to have a meal and wait for dark.
It looked as if Auerbach had cleaned up the empty coffee mugs and some of the debris and filled the waste paper basket but the office was still terribly cluttered. Books were jammed into every available inch of space, scraps of paper were taped to the walls and the sides of the desk. He began working his way through the search. Most of the heavy reference books were on biochemistry and physics and the titles were meaningless to him. Bane had no formal education, it was surprising he could read at all. Then, on one shelf, he found a half-dozen books that stood out dramatically. They were old, slim, with ragged covers and a musty smell. THE REVELATIONS OF TOLLINOR KJE. THE SKULL BENEATH THE SKIN. VELKANDU. Bane smiled grimly at these titles. Oh yes, Mr Dred had been right. Auerbach was trying to marry science and sorcery into a synthesis. Best of both worlds, he thought.
As he searched, Bane was keeping an ear cocked for any noise in the hall outside. But it was the faintest whisper by his head that alerted him. He was crouching by the bookcase, peering at the dot of light, when he caught the sound. He swung around and saw a glint as something slid past his cheek,missing by less than an inch. He was up and on his feet faster than any real wolf, and the flash landed on a stunning sight. There was a tiny man. Six inches tall, wearing a tunic and leggings of red cloth roughly tied together, hairless and olive-skinned... what had come to be called the Human Ant. He drew back his little arm and hurled the poisoned needle like a javelin. Bane ducked to one side and stared. For once, he was dumbfounded. This early in his career, he was not as blase as he would later become and this stunned him.
In that moment, the Ant-man spun and scuttled across the desk, leaped up onto the windowsill and got through the opening. Now Bane came to life, keeping the flashlight and leaping across the room. He got the window open, swung through it and was outside. Widening the lense, he swung the light and spotted a tiny figure racing quick as a spider across the parking lot. If he lost sight of him, he would never be able to find the little killer but a second later, the form was gone. Then he heard the door of the van slam. Bane raced for it. Someone had to be in that van, helping the Human Ant.
As the Dire Wolf hurtled up close, he was taken aback by another complete surprise as the back door of the van crashed open and something enormous catapulted out. It was bigger than a person, maybe twice as big, and in the gloom it was hard to tell details. His eyes were adjusting quickly. Something whooshed past his head, making his hair ruffle with its passing and he dropped low and jumped back. It looked like a man twelve feet tall, wrapped in a crude red tunic. That immense hand swung again, and Bane came in under it to stand next to the giant. Raising one foot, he kicked the monster in the back of the knee as hard as he could and the giant dropped and almost fell. There was the back of the head. Bane brought his fist up and back and then slammed it down with all his strength at the nape of the neck. There was good reason that the rabbit punch was outlawed in boxing, it could easily be fatal and it hurt even this huge hulk. Bane's left hand dropped behind his hip to go for his .45 automatic and the huge paw swung back and caught him right in the chest. It felt like being hit by a car.
The next few minutes were filled with pain and confusion. Bane managed to roll over onto his hands and knees and get up again. It hurt when he took a breath. As he stood up, he was blinded by the sudden headlights as the van started up and roared away. He went to take a shot with the idea of hitting a tire but his gun was gone. A second later, he saw the lights of the van whip out onto the highway and disappear around a curve.
The Dire Wolf let out a painful breath. That just could not have been what it seem. There had to be another explanation. Had someone found a way to shrink down to doll size and then shoot up again to twice normal height? Bane had seen a lot in the past few months but that seemed just impossible. He found his pistol and holstered it, then trudged back toward the building. The fight had only lasted a few seconds and there was no sign anyone in the facility had seen it. He climbed back through the open window, wincing at his bruised ribs as he did so. He still had the pencil flash. After a second, Bane found the needle the Human Ant had thrown at him. He wrapped it in a paper napkin off the desk and took it carefully with him. Before he left, he closed the window from the outside and hooked up the alarm again. He had a five minute walk through the woods back to where he had left Kenneth Dred's Buick Regal parked just off the road and there was a lot to think about.
II.
Ten miles down the road from the facility, Bane pulled into the River View Motel, which consisted of an office in a trailer and a long row of rooms, all with doors facing the road. He parked in front of #5, unlocked the door and closed it gratefully behind him. He flipped the light switch. This was a bare minimum place. His room had a bathroom, a double bed, a couple of chairs and a color TV with cable. Bane kicked off his boots, yanked his jacket off and stretched out on the bed. He was still replaying that fight in his head, figuring out what to do if he had to face that giant again. After a few minutes, he rolled over to pick up the phone and call New York City. It was ten-thirty and he knew Dred would be up waiting.
In a minute, he heard the dry voice of the one man he respected. "Jeremy. Good to hear from you, lad."
"Hello, Mr Dred. I've got a lot to report. First, I got to talk to Dr Auerbach...." Bane recounted everything that had happened in full detail. If someone was listening in, they would think he was drunk or crazy.
After he was done, he waited a second and heard Dred say, "I have never heard of anyone changing size like that. I believe you are right, there is another explanation. Have you examined the needle?"
"I'm looking at it now. Ordinary sewing needle with a hole at one end for thread. The point is gummy, I suppose that's the poison."
"Lock it in the trunk of the car, wrapped in paper towels. I think there might turn out to be some clue there. How do you feel?"
"Me? I'm fine, why?"
"A tiny creature tried to kill you with a poisoned needle and then you fought a man twice normal size. Most people would be a little shaken up."
At just twenty-one, Bane had no sense of humor. "I'm not most people, Mr Dred. Got any instructions?"
"Not tonight. In the morning, I'll call Dr Halloran and see if he will see you. He witnessed one murder by this so-called Ant-man. Find out what he knows and carry on from there. Good work, Jeremy."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be waiting for your call. Good night."
Dred told him to get some sleep and hung up. Bane slid off the bed and went over to his knapsack. There was some food in there he had bought when he stopped for gas after the long drive up from Manhattan. A ham and cheese sandwich, a big bag of cashews, two chocolate bars and a bottle of seltzer. He devoured everything and suddenly felt weary as the adrenalin died down. Bane stripped and took a hot shower, toweled dry and examined himself in the bathroom mirror. There was some bruising where he had been hit and a scrape across one arm where he had landed. Not bad. In the mirror, his pale grey eyes looked back at him from a narrow feral face. There was that predatory gleam in them he recognized when the hunt was on. He had taken the war name Dire Wolf for good reason. Getting fresh underwear and plain white T-shirt from his knapsack, he strapped the silver-bladed daggers to his forearms again. He had gotten used to them very quickly and seldom left them off for too long. Before he got in bed, he propped the wooden chair up under the doorknob, checked that the window was locked, and turned off the lights. He fell asleep within seconds.
Just before dawn, he woke up with instant clarity, refreshed and ready for the day. One effect of his enhanced speed was a metabolism that ran full blast. He jumped up without stretching or yawning. Bane used the bathroom, then got dressed and peered out the window. He was a few miles from Stewart Airport, just outside Newburgh. The three Human Ant murders had all taken place in this area over just the last two months. Bane threaded the holster through his belt, checked the action of the .45 and put on his jacket to cover it before going outside. The sky was getting light to the east. Going to the front desk, he found some local newspapers, and bought two buttered hard rolls. Back in his room, he studied every page of the papers as he ate. It was an eccentricity that he loved newspapers and could not get enough of them but he only watched TV when there was something on the news he needed to see. TV shows and movies just did not register with him, and he ignored music. It was just the way he was.
By eight-thirty, he was done with the papers. He had shaved and stowed his gear and was getting restless. Going for a run would have helped burn off some excess energy but he had to wait. Just after nine, the phone rang and he snatched it up as if life depended on it. "Yeah?"
A young girl's voice with a faint British accent said, "Jeremy? This is Katherine. Good morning."
"Hi. What's going on?"
"Mr Dred just called someone he wants you to speak with. Dr Paul Halloran. His house is at 312 Old Post Road off Route 17K. I have the directions here..."
Bane listened carefully and repeated the directions, then asked, "What kind of doctor is this guy? Not another scientist who throws around hundred dollar words, I hope?"
"Oh, very much so," she answered with a tinge of amusement in her voice. "I imagine you will need an interpreter."
"All right, I'm on my way. I'll report when I get somewhere." Bane hung up without any pleasantries and left the room. First, he stopped at the front desk and paid for another day. Then he got in Dred's Buick and started it up. As he pulled out, he went over the directions he had been given. It was colder than the day before had been, and the sky looked ominous. Bane got on Route 17K and headed west. He was out in the country, with increasingly long stretches between houses. Twenty minutes later, he passed a house that had the numbers 310 on its front door and figured the next one would be where he was supposed to go.
Ahead, he saw a short driveway on the right hand side of the road, a small house with aluminum siding and a car port. As he approached, that white panel van shot out into the road, cutting him off and tearing away in the direction he was pointing. With more experience, Bane might have stopped and gone into the house to check on Halloran, then called the police. But right then, all his instincts pushed him toward pursuit and retribution. He wished there was some way he could make a phone call from the car but that would have to wait until later. He slammed the gas pedal down and the big Buick jumped and accelerated.
The white van was already going pretty fast. Catching up to it was not going to be easy but his predatory instincts were up. A red and blue VW van went by in the other lane, but there was not much traffic on this back road. With his left hand, he wound down his window and air rushed in. He was getting closer. He could read the license plate and he memorized it in case something went wrong. He was almost touching the van, this was tricky as they were going about seventy on a bumpy road. Reaching behind him, Bane took out the .45, thumbed the safety and stuck the gun out the open window. He squeezed off three shots and put his foot on the brake. He felt certain he had hit the rear tire and, sure enough, the van started swerving. It swung over onto a dirt road to the right, the driver lost control and went into a ditch.
Bane pulled into the center of the dirt road and got out. The back panel slammed open and a tiny figure hopped out, scuttling right at him. Something metal glittered in its hand. It was a difficult shot to hit something that small moving fast, but Bane extended his arm full length and fired twice. The tiny figure leaped into the air with a squeal and fell hard. Keeping a wary eye on the van, gun still in hand, the Dire Wolf stepped closer. The thing seemed dead. It was wrapped in bright red cloth that now had a big entry hole square in the middle of the torso,almost severing it. The poisoned needle gleamed where it had fallen.
He only looked down for an instant before straightening, but that was enough to leave him vulnerable. Bane looked up as a huge figure in red lunged at him. Reflexes took over, he leaped far to one side just quickly enough that the grasping hands missed him but he stumbled as he hit the ground and his foot slid. Even falling, he rolled and escaped having his face crushed beneath the stomping of a foot considerably bigger than his head. Bane was back on his feet but he had dropped his gun and there was no time to look for it.
At least now he knew that this giant was not the same person as the Ant-man, as there they were both in front of him. But they looked almost identical except for size. As the giant man straightened, his waist was even with the top of a regular man's head. He wore a crude tunic and leggings of bright red cloth, and his feet were wrapped in buskins of the same material. The giant had smooth olive skin, not a hair anywhere on his body, not even eyelashes and his eyes were dark. As Bane got to his feet, the giant took a step toward him, huge hands clenched.
If anyone had been there to observe, they would have seen that, strangely, Bane's face had no trace of fear or anxiety on it. Facing an enemy literally twice his size, he grinned a wicked predatory grin. The Dire Wolf crossed his arms in front of him and opened them with a silver dagger in each hand. Faster than any other human being, he whipped forward and swung around behind the giant. Silver flashed in the cold morning light, left and right, and the giant fell forward with a shriek. Bane stepped back. He had sliced the tendons in the back of the giant's right leg. As the huge man struggled to get up, the Dire Wolf plunged forward and slashed forward and back. The big man clutched at the deep gash across his throat where his windpipe was severed. Bane took a few steps back and watched as the brute died with a wheezing rattle.
That had been a little mean, Bane admitted to himself, but he had determined he was not going to be stupid enough to just slug it out with a monster that big. He went over to clean the blades on the dead giant's tunic and froze in mid-step. Something was happening. The corpse glistened wetly, the surface got darker and it fell apart. In a few minutes, it had collapsed into a gooey white mass. The Dire Wolf blinked and went over to look for the body of the tiny creature, only to find that it had dissolved enough to not even be recognizable. Well, that was unexpected, he thought.
Bane tugged at a bit of the red cloth still showing from the ooze that had been the giant and cleaned the silver bladed daggers. They had been a present from Kenneth Dred at the very start of their association and were the most valued possessions he owned. Twirling them with satisfaction, he decided he needed to search the van for more information but really this assignment was as good as closed. Then he stopped. Standing by the driver door of the van was a third figure with olive skin and no hair, dressed in a crude tunic and leggings of red cloth. This one was of normal size, just over six feet tall and he was holding the .45 automatic that Bane himself had dropped during the fight. It was pointed right at him.
III.
Standing still, the Dire Wolf inverted his daggers so they were pointed up behind his arms. Maybe this freak hadn't seen them. He waited. After a second, the strange man turned his eyes toward the dissolving mass that had been the giant.
'
"I'm impressed," he said finally, in a hollow sepulchral voice. "Really, to destroy both of them. Very good."
"What's the deal?" Bane asked. "Who are you guys? What's going on here?"
"Ah, you wouldn't know, would you? Kenneth Dred would. If you had time, you could ask him but you yourself are just his blunt instrument." The strange man smiled, showing very white teeth. "I should have killed you last night but I wasn't sure how much you or Dred knew."
Bane thought he was starting to understand. "The three of you... the little one, the big guy and you. You're connected somehow. You're robots or androids or something. Of course! Now I get it. You're Dr Auerbach, aren't you?"
"Really. I did not expect you to know these things. But then you're working for Kenneth Dred. He must be teaching you about the Midnight War. Yes. These are indeed Golems my mind inhabit. Instead of crude cold clay, though, I have improved the spell. At the institute, I have developed my synthetic protein to the point where it replicates itself and can be shaped into human form. Like this. I call it 'Other Clay,' it makes golems that can pass for living men. You see? With a wig and some regular clothing, I can walk in these Other Clay constructs as perfect assassins. If captured, I can just return to my own body and the golems self-destruct. No evidence."
The Dire Wolf was frowning. "So, when the little one, the Ant-man was destroyed, your mind went into the big one. And when I destroyed the giant, you went into the regular sized one. Neat. Very neat." He raised an eyebrow. "I was going to ask you why you were killing those men, but I guess it doesn't matter now."
The golem scowled and said, "Why doesn't it- urk!" He was cut off as silver glinted for a second and one of the daggers slid to the hilt in his chest. It hit with an audible thump, as Bane had thrown it hard. Even as the dying construct sagged to the ground, Bane stepped forward and tugged his gun from the limp hand. Then he retrieved his dagger just as the body started to decay. The stench was awful.
A blue Dodge Ram rolled past. The driver glanced over, but all he saw was a white van stuck in a ditch and a man in black standing next to it. He didn't stop and Bane watched the truck go by. A few minutes earlier and that driver would have seen the whole thing. Bane looked down at the dissolving mass that had been the human sized golem. There was not much left of the other two beside wet greasy spots on the ground. He holstered his gun and sheathed his knives and went back to the Buick. That had not been at all what he had expected.
Pulling out onto the road, he headed back toward Stewart Airport. He felt fine, even happy at completing his assignment. Maybe the police would never be able to close the case on the three "Human Ant" murders but that was not his concern. It was enough that there would be no further ones, but that meant one more stop. At the sign NORTHEAST RESEARCH FACILITY, he pulled in and parked where the white van had been the night before.
Bane walked up steep concrete steps to the front entrance and went in the lobby. Behind his metal desk, the security guard recognized him from the previous day and said, "Dr Auerbach is in."
"Thank you," said the Dire Wolf, walking across the lobby and down the corridor to the door that said BIOCHEMICAL DEVELOPMENT- DR HENRY J AUERBACH. He did not bother to knock, just opened the door and stuck his head in. Auerbach was slumped behind his clutttered desk, mouth open and eyes rolled up to show the whites. Bane took one step inside and carefully pressed the back of his hand to the body's throat. Room temperature. He had seen more than enough corpses in his young life to know one.
Going back to the lobby, he told the guard, "It looks like he had a heart attack. Call for an ambulance." As the guard lurched to his feet and stomped off to see for himself, Bane allowed himself a faint smile. He had been half expecting this. Auerbach had projected his consciousness into the little golem, then shifted into the giant as the first one was dying.He repeated the process as the big construct died but the third one, the regular sized golem, died too suddenly to escape. Auerbach's spirit had been taken by surprise and perished with the 'Other Clay' shell. Bane had hoped this would happen. He didn't know enough about these things to be sure it would work out that way but it tied everything up neatly.
As the guard hustled back and started dialing the phone on his desk, Bane thought of the three murders and remembered the look of surprise and horror on Auerbach's dead face. He deserved it.
4/24/2013
2/21-2/22/1978
I.
In his black outfit, Jeremy Bane was only a vague shadow in the gloom of a winter night. From out of the woods, he stepped over a low concrete curb onto the nearly empty parking lot. The long L-shaped building had only one window lit, by the front entrance where a Ford pick-up truck sat. Security guard, he supposed. He had come out of the brush by the white panel van that still stood where it had been that afternoon. It was locked. He wanted a look in that windowless back compartment but Auerbach's office came first. When he had been there only a few hours earlier, the Dire Wolf had quietly noted where the security cameras were located. Now he flashed across the dim parking lot and flattened against the white brick wall next to the window he wanted. He had brought his burglar kit with him from the Buick. Fastening clips to the wire on either side of the window, he bypassed the burglar alarm. The window had six panes of glass and he pressed his palm to the top center and gave the back of that hand a smart smack. The panel popped neatly out of its setting and dropped to the carpeting inside. He reached in and opened the turn lock, then slid the window open.
Taking two steps back, Bane dove neatly through the window and landed inside on toes and fingertips, completely silent. All this looked easy the way he did it, but that was only because years of practice and experience made it seem so. Being thin and athletic helped, too. The Dire Wolf found the pane of glass and pressed it back in place. It wasn't as secure as it had been but it would pass a casual glance. Bane tugged the window back down but left it open just a crack so it would be easy to fling up again in a hurry. From one of the inner pockets sewn in his black jacket, he drew out a pencil flash and narrowed its lense so it produced a spot of light no bigger than a penny. For the next hour, he searched the office.
When he had visited Dr Auerbach that afternoon, the conversation had been polite but not very helpful. Auerbach had heard of the three "Human Ant" murders and in fact had once met one of the victims. But he had nothing useful to suggest and had explained in great detail why a six inch tall man could not exist. He had gone over the cube-square law, mentioned that a brain that size could not possibly function with any intelligence greater than what, say, a white mouse possessed and concluded that there was not even any plausible theory by which a living being could be shrunk in the first place. Bane said that the two witnesses who had seen this Ant-man gave descriptions which matched-- despite the fact they did not know each other and that the police had not released that detail. Auerbach just scoffed and said he had to get back to work.
Bane had not argued with any of that. Six months of working for Kenneth Dred, investigating the Midnight War, had left him ready to deal with crazy events and worry later if they were impossible or not. Thanking the biochemist, he had fixed every detail of the office in his mind. Then he had driven into town to have a meal and wait for dark.
It looked as if Auerbach had cleaned up the empty coffee mugs and some of the debris and filled the waste paper basket but the office was still terribly cluttered. Books were jammed into every available inch of space, scraps of paper were taped to the walls and the sides of the desk. He began working his way through the search. Most of the heavy reference books were on biochemistry and physics and the titles were meaningless to him. Bane had no formal education, it was surprising he could read at all. Then, on one shelf, he found a half-dozen books that stood out dramatically. They were old, slim, with ragged covers and a musty smell. THE REVELATIONS OF TOLLINOR KJE. THE SKULL BENEATH THE SKIN. VELKANDU. Bane smiled grimly at these titles. Oh yes, Mr Dred had been right. Auerbach was trying to marry science and sorcery into a synthesis. Best of both worlds, he thought.
As he searched, Bane was keeping an ear cocked for any noise in the hall outside. But it was the faintest whisper by his head that alerted him. He was crouching by the bookcase, peering at the dot of light, when he caught the sound. He swung around and saw a glint as something slid past his cheek,missing by less than an inch. He was up and on his feet faster than any real wolf, and the flash landed on a stunning sight. There was a tiny man. Six inches tall, wearing a tunic and leggings of red cloth roughly tied together, hairless and olive-skinned... what had come to be called the Human Ant. He drew back his little arm and hurled the poisoned needle like a javelin. Bane ducked to one side and stared. For once, he was dumbfounded. This early in his career, he was not as blase as he would later become and this stunned him.
In that moment, the Ant-man spun and scuttled across the desk, leaped up onto the windowsill and got through the opening. Now Bane came to life, keeping the flashlight and leaping across the room. He got the window open, swung through it and was outside. Widening the lense, he swung the light and spotted a tiny figure racing quick as a spider across the parking lot. If he lost sight of him, he would never be able to find the little killer but a second later, the form was gone. Then he heard the door of the van slam. Bane raced for it. Someone had to be in that van, helping the Human Ant.
As the Dire Wolf hurtled up close, he was taken aback by another complete surprise as the back door of the van crashed open and something enormous catapulted out. It was bigger than a person, maybe twice as big, and in the gloom it was hard to tell details. His eyes were adjusting quickly. Something whooshed past his head, making his hair ruffle with its passing and he dropped low and jumped back. It looked like a man twelve feet tall, wrapped in a crude red tunic. That immense hand swung again, and Bane came in under it to stand next to the giant. Raising one foot, he kicked the monster in the back of the knee as hard as he could and the giant dropped and almost fell. There was the back of the head. Bane brought his fist up and back and then slammed it down with all his strength at the nape of the neck. There was good reason that the rabbit punch was outlawed in boxing, it could easily be fatal and it hurt even this huge hulk. Bane's left hand dropped behind his hip to go for his .45 automatic and the huge paw swung back and caught him right in the chest. It felt like being hit by a car.
The next few minutes were filled with pain and confusion. Bane managed to roll over onto his hands and knees and get up again. It hurt when he took a breath. As he stood up, he was blinded by the sudden headlights as the van started up and roared away. He went to take a shot with the idea of hitting a tire but his gun was gone. A second later, he saw the lights of the van whip out onto the highway and disappear around a curve.
The Dire Wolf let out a painful breath. That just could not have been what it seem. There had to be another explanation. Had someone found a way to shrink down to doll size and then shoot up again to twice normal height? Bane had seen a lot in the past few months but that seemed just impossible. He found his pistol and holstered it, then trudged back toward the building. The fight had only lasted a few seconds and there was no sign anyone in the facility had seen it. He climbed back through the open window, wincing at his bruised ribs as he did so. He still had the pencil flash. After a second, Bane found the needle the Human Ant had thrown at him. He wrapped it in a paper napkin off the desk and took it carefully with him. Before he left, he closed the window from the outside and hooked up the alarm again. He had a five minute walk through the woods back to where he had left Kenneth Dred's Buick Regal parked just off the road and there was a lot to think about.
II.
Ten miles down the road from the facility, Bane pulled into the River View Motel, which consisted of an office in a trailer and a long row of rooms, all with doors facing the road. He parked in front of #5, unlocked the door and closed it gratefully behind him. He flipped the light switch. This was a bare minimum place. His room had a bathroom, a double bed, a couple of chairs and a color TV with cable. Bane kicked off his boots, yanked his jacket off and stretched out on the bed. He was still replaying that fight in his head, figuring out what to do if he had to face that giant again. After a few minutes, he rolled over to pick up the phone and call New York City. It was ten-thirty and he knew Dred would be up waiting.
In a minute, he heard the dry voice of the one man he respected. "Jeremy. Good to hear from you, lad."
"Hello, Mr Dred. I've got a lot to report. First, I got to talk to Dr Auerbach...." Bane recounted everything that had happened in full detail. If someone was listening in, they would think he was drunk or crazy.
After he was done, he waited a second and heard Dred say, "I have never heard of anyone changing size like that. I believe you are right, there is another explanation. Have you examined the needle?"
"I'm looking at it now. Ordinary sewing needle with a hole at one end for thread. The point is gummy, I suppose that's the poison."
"Lock it in the trunk of the car, wrapped in paper towels. I think there might turn out to be some clue there. How do you feel?"
"Me? I'm fine, why?"
"A tiny creature tried to kill you with a poisoned needle and then you fought a man twice normal size. Most people would be a little shaken up."
At just twenty-one, Bane had no sense of humor. "I'm not most people, Mr Dred. Got any instructions?"
"Not tonight. In the morning, I'll call Dr Halloran and see if he will see you. He witnessed one murder by this so-called Ant-man. Find out what he knows and carry on from there. Good work, Jeremy."
"Thank you, sir. I'll be waiting for your call. Good night."
Dred told him to get some sleep and hung up. Bane slid off the bed and went over to his knapsack. There was some food in there he had bought when he stopped for gas after the long drive up from Manhattan. A ham and cheese sandwich, a big bag of cashews, two chocolate bars and a bottle of seltzer. He devoured everything and suddenly felt weary as the adrenalin died down. Bane stripped and took a hot shower, toweled dry and examined himself in the bathroom mirror. There was some bruising where he had been hit and a scrape across one arm where he had landed. Not bad. In the mirror, his pale grey eyes looked back at him from a narrow feral face. There was that predatory gleam in them he recognized when the hunt was on. He had taken the war name Dire Wolf for good reason. Getting fresh underwear and plain white T-shirt from his knapsack, he strapped the silver-bladed daggers to his forearms again. He had gotten used to them very quickly and seldom left them off for too long. Before he got in bed, he propped the wooden chair up under the doorknob, checked that the window was locked, and turned off the lights. He fell asleep within seconds.
Just before dawn, he woke up with instant clarity, refreshed and ready for the day. One effect of his enhanced speed was a metabolism that ran full blast. He jumped up without stretching or yawning. Bane used the bathroom, then got dressed and peered out the window. He was a few miles from Stewart Airport, just outside Newburgh. The three Human Ant murders had all taken place in this area over just the last two months. Bane threaded the holster through his belt, checked the action of the .45 and put on his jacket to cover it before going outside. The sky was getting light to the east. Going to the front desk, he found some local newspapers, and bought two buttered hard rolls. Back in his room, he studied every page of the papers as he ate. It was an eccentricity that he loved newspapers and could not get enough of them but he only watched TV when there was something on the news he needed to see. TV shows and movies just did not register with him, and he ignored music. It was just the way he was.
By eight-thirty, he was done with the papers. He had shaved and stowed his gear and was getting restless. Going for a run would have helped burn off some excess energy but he had to wait. Just after nine, the phone rang and he snatched it up as if life depended on it. "Yeah?"
A young girl's voice with a faint British accent said, "Jeremy? This is Katherine. Good morning."
"Hi. What's going on?"
"Mr Dred just called someone he wants you to speak with. Dr Paul Halloran. His house is at 312 Old Post Road off Route 17K. I have the directions here..."
Bane listened carefully and repeated the directions, then asked, "What kind of doctor is this guy? Not another scientist who throws around hundred dollar words, I hope?"
"Oh, very much so," she answered with a tinge of amusement in her voice. "I imagine you will need an interpreter."
"All right, I'm on my way. I'll report when I get somewhere." Bane hung up without any pleasantries and left the room. First, he stopped at the front desk and paid for another day. Then he got in Dred's Buick and started it up. As he pulled out, he went over the directions he had been given. It was colder than the day before had been, and the sky looked ominous. Bane got on Route 17K and headed west. He was out in the country, with increasingly long stretches between houses. Twenty minutes later, he passed a house that had the numbers 310 on its front door and figured the next one would be where he was supposed to go.
Ahead, he saw a short driveway on the right hand side of the road, a small house with aluminum siding and a car port. As he approached, that white panel van shot out into the road, cutting him off and tearing away in the direction he was pointing. With more experience, Bane might have stopped and gone into the house to check on Halloran, then called the police. But right then, all his instincts pushed him toward pursuit and retribution. He wished there was some way he could make a phone call from the car but that would have to wait until later. He slammed the gas pedal down and the big Buick jumped and accelerated.
The white van was already going pretty fast. Catching up to it was not going to be easy but his predatory instincts were up. A red and blue VW van went by in the other lane, but there was not much traffic on this back road. With his left hand, he wound down his window and air rushed in. He was getting closer. He could read the license plate and he memorized it in case something went wrong. He was almost touching the van, this was tricky as they were going about seventy on a bumpy road. Reaching behind him, Bane took out the .45, thumbed the safety and stuck the gun out the open window. He squeezed off three shots and put his foot on the brake. He felt certain he had hit the rear tire and, sure enough, the van started swerving. It swung over onto a dirt road to the right, the driver lost control and went into a ditch.
Bane pulled into the center of the dirt road and got out. The back panel slammed open and a tiny figure hopped out, scuttling right at him. Something metal glittered in its hand. It was a difficult shot to hit something that small moving fast, but Bane extended his arm full length and fired twice. The tiny figure leaped into the air with a squeal and fell hard. Keeping a wary eye on the van, gun still in hand, the Dire Wolf stepped closer. The thing seemed dead. It was wrapped in bright red cloth that now had a big entry hole square in the middle of the torso,almost severing it. The poisoned needle gleamed where it had fallen.
He only looked down for an instant before straightening, but that was enough to leave him vulnerable. Bane looked up as a huge figure in red lunged at him. Reflexes took over, he leaped far to one side just quickly enough that the grasping hands missed him but he stumbled as he hit the ground and his foot slid. Even falling, he rolled and escaped having his face crushed beneath the stomping of a foot considerably bigger than his head. Bane was back on his feet but he had dropped his gun and there was no time to look for it.
At least now he knew that this giant was not the same person as the Ant-man, as there they were both in front of him. But they looked almost identical except for size. As the giant man straightened, his waist was even with the top of a regular man's head. He wore a crude tunic and leggings of bright red cloth, and his feet were wrapped in buskins of the same material. The giant had smooth olive skin, not a hair anywhere on his body, not even eyelashes and his eyes were dark. As Bane got to his feet, the giant took a step toward him, huge hands clenched.
If anyone had been there to observe, they would have seen that, strangely, Bane's face had no trace of fear or anxiety on it. Facing an enemy literally twice his size, he grinned a wicked predatory grin. The Dire Wolf crossed his arms in front of him and opened them with a silver dagger in each hand. Faster than any other human being, he whipped forward and swung around behind the giant. Silver flashed in the cold morning light, left and right, and the giant fell forward with a shriek. Bane stepped back. He had sliced the tendons in the back of the giant's right leg. As the huge man struggled to get up, the Dire Wolf plunged forward and slashed forward and back. The big man clutched at the deep gash across his throat where his windpipe was severed. Bane took a few steps back and watched as the brute died with a wheezing rattle.
That had been a little mean, Bane admitted to himself, but he had determined he was not going to be stupid enough to just slug it out with a monster that big. He went over to clean the blades on the dead giant's tunic and froze in mid-step. Something was happening. The corpse glistened wetly, the surface got darker and it fell apart. In a few minutes, it had collapsed into a gooey white mass. The Dire Wolf blinked and went over to look for the body of the tiny creature, only to find that it had dissolved enough to not even be recognizable. Well, that was unexpected, he thought.
Bane tugged at a bit of the red cloth still showing from the ooze that had been the giant and cleaned the silver bladed daggers. They had been a present from Kenneth Dred at the very start of their association and were the most valued possessions he owned. Twirling them with satisfaction, he decided he needed to search the van for more information but really this assignment was as good as closed. Then he stopped. Standing by the driver door of the van was a third figure with olive skin and no hair, dressed in a crude tunic and leggings of red cloth. This one was of normal size, just over six feet tall and he was holding the .45 automatic that Bane himself had dropped during the fight. It was pointed right at him.
III.
Standing still, the Dire Wolf inverted his daggers so they were pointed up behind his arms. Maybe this freak hadn't seen them. He waited. After a second, the strange man turned his eyes toward the dissolving mass that had been the giant.
'
"I'm impressed," he said finally, in a hollow sepulchral voice. "Really, to destroy both of them. Very good."
"What's the deal?" Bane asked. "Who are you guys? What's going on here?"
"Ah, you wouldn't know, would you? Kenneth Dred would. If you had time, you could ask him but you yourself are just his blunt instrument." The strange man smiled, showing very white teeth. "I should have killed you last night but I wasn't sure how much you or Dred knew."
Bane thought he was starting to understand. "The three of you... the little one, the big guy and you. You're connected somehow. You're robots or androids or something. Of course! Now I get it. You're Dr Auerbach, aren't you?"
"Really. I did not expect you to know these things. But then you're working for Kenneth Dred. He must be teaching you about the Midnight War. Yes. These are indeed Golems my mind inhabit. Instead of crude cold clay, though, I have improved the spell. At the institute, I have developed my synthetic protein to the point where it replicates itself and can be shaped into human form. Like this. I call it 'Other Clay,' it makes golems that can pass for living men. You see? With a wig and some regular clothing, I can walk in these Other Clay constructs as perfect assassins. If captured, I can just return to my own body and the golems self-destruct. No evidence."
The Dire Wolf was frowning. "So, when the little one, the Ant-man was destroyed, your mind went into the big one. And when I destroyed the giant, you went into the regular sized one. Neat. Very neat." He raised an eyebrow. "I was going to ask you why you were killing those men, but I guess it doesn't matter now."
The golem scowled and said, "Why doesn't it- urk!" He was cut off as silver glinted for a second and one of the daggers slid to the hilt in his chest. It hit with an audible thump, as Bane had thrown it hard. Even as the dying construct sagged to the ground, Bane stepped forward and tugged his gun from the limp hand. Then he retrieved his dagger just as the body started to decay. The stench was awful.
A blue Dodge Ram rolled past. The driver glanced over, but all he saw was a white van stuck in a ditch and a man in black standing next to it. He didn't stop and Bane watched the truck go by. A few minutes earlier and that driver would have seen the whole thing. Bane looked down at the dissolving mass that had been the human sized golem. There was not much left of the other two beside wet greasy spots on the ground. He holstered his gun and sheathed his knives and went back to the Buick. That had not been at all what he had expected.
Pulling out onto the road, he headed back toward Stewart Airport. He felt fine, even happy at completing his assignment. Maybe the police would never be able to close the case on the three "Human Ant" murders but that was not his concern. It was enough that there would be no further ones, but that meant one more stop. At the sign NORTHEAST RESEARCH FACILITY, he pulled in and parked where the white van had been the night before.
Bane walked up steep concrete steps to the front entrance and went in the lobby. Behind his metal desk, the security guard recognized him from the previous day and said, "Dr Auerbach is in."
"Thank you," said the Dire Wolf, walking across the lobby and down the corridor to the door that said BIOCHEMICAL DEVELOPMENT- DR HENRY J AUERBACH. He did not bother to knock, just opened the door and stuck his head in. Auerbach was slumped behind his clutttered desk, mouth open and eyes rolled up to show the whites. Bane took one step inside and carefully pressed the back of his hand to the body's throat. Room temperature. He had seen more than enough corpses in his young life to know one.
Going back to the lobby, he told the guard, "It looks like he had a heart attack. Call for an ambulance." As the guard lurched to his feet and stomped off to see for himself, Bane allowed himself a faint smile. He had been half expecting this. Auerbach had projected his consciousness into the little golem, then shifted into the giant as the first one was dying.He repeated the process as the big construct died but the third one, the regular sized golem, died too suddenly to escape. Auerbach's spirit had been taken by surprise and perished with the 'Other Clay' shell. Bane had hoped this would happen. He didn't know enough about these things to be sure it would work out that way but it tied everything up neatly.
As the guard hustled back and started dialing the phone on his desk, Bane thought of the three murders and remembered the look of surprise and horror on Auerbach's dead face. He deserved it.
4/24/2013
