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"Vengeance In Silver"
"Vengeance In Silver"
3/18-3/27/1979
I.
At midnight, pure white light brighter than the sun flared silently in an alley off Ninth Avenue. As it faded and normal colors returned, a huge metallic form was seen on one bent knee and both hands flat on the alley floor. Steam rose from the silver surface of the being as if it had been taken from a kiln into the cool night air. The gleaming form lifted its head and rose effortlessly to stand erect, with the silver skin flexing as easily as human hide.
Khang stood several inches over seven feet tall, wide-shouldered and hewn with the muscles of a wrestler. Yet he had no fingernails, no navel or genitals, his feet were solid pads without toes. He looked more like an abstract statue given animation than a living man coated with silver. Except for two glowing eye-slots, his head was a featureless helmet without hair, nose or mouth or ears. If anyone had been there to see the arrival, they would have been stunned by the surreal sight.
For a long moment, Khang stood motionless, lost in thought. He lowered his head and regarded his shining hands as if seeing them for the first time. There was a Salvation Army store next to him. Perhaps that was why he had materialized here? He vaguely remembered he was here for a purpose, he had a mission but he could not quite think clearly yet. Khang pressed his hand against the side door of the store and the lock snapped audibly although he had not even tried to break it. He was stronger than flesh and blood, perhaps strong beyond all previous definitions of the word.
Entering the darkened interior, he found he could see quite plainly, although "see" might not have been the most accurate word. He sensed his surrounding, in all directions equally as well, without any disorientation. It was strange. Khang moved slowly, distractedly, as he found oversized clothing that would fit him. Huge clunky brogans, flannel trousers, a tan raincoat, all so large an average-sized man would be lost within them. Even so, they were slightly tight when he moved. A wide-brimmed slouch hat and workman's gauntlets meant for the railroad were put on next. Better than nothing.
He was leaving the store with the vague worry he had tripped a silent alarm while entering when he saw two more items. A wool scarf in bright plaid, which he wrapped to conceal his face, and a pair of welder's goggles he could strap on. He had no money to leave in exchange, which troubled him. Whoever he had been before this transformation had been too honest...
Whoever he had been before? That was a strange thought. He had not always been Khang. He had been... someone else. Flesh, with breath in his lungs and blood in his veins, not a living metal statue. But that was all he could remember. It was all so strange, he needed time to think.
Walking out onto the night streets, Khang began heading up Ninth Avenue without clear purpose in mind. The cars looked so different. Where were the tailfins? The chrome? The models seemed so small. And the people he passed were dressed so oddly. Women wearing pants. Men without suits or hats, all in dungarees and gaudy T-shirts and the billed caps that baseball players wore. He realized now he had been gone for a long time.
II.
As the doorbell rang, Jeremy Bane trotted rapidly down the staircase into the front hall. Just over twenty-one, he was so lean as to seem gaunt and he moved with a restless energy that let him cross the hallway in a flash. The young Dire Wolf opened the inner door to the tiny foyer and peered suspiciously through the lense in the street door. He immediately recognized the two men outside from Mr Dred's description. Garrison Nebel and Will Murdock.
Opening the front door, Bane ushered them into the foyer and through the front hall. "Come on in," he said without noticeable warmth. Even at his best, the Dire Wolf was not a friendly young man. The all black outfit he habitually wore- slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket- added to the reserved impression he made. "Mr Dred is in the reception room."
Nebel was the taller man, well-dressed in a charcoal grey suit and tie. He had a long somber face, light brown hair and was wearing tinted glasses. As he met Bane's wary gaze, Nebel smiled slightly and nodded. Next to Nebel, William Murdock looked a bit dumpy. He was shorter, thick around the middle, and he was wearing tan pants, a light brown shirt and a windbreaker. Murdock had brick red hair that was receding far up by the temples, and an upturned nose that gave him a quizzical expression.
In the open doorway to the reception room just behind them, Kenneth Dred stuck his gnomish face out with a genuine grin. "Garrison! Will! Good of you fellows to come. At seventy-nine, I don't get out much."
"Always glad to visit," Murdock replied heartily. The three men exchanged greetings while Bane watched sourly from a slight distance. Seeing him, Dred paused and said, "I must introduce my protege, Jeremy Bane. A remarkable young man, he has achieved so much in the Midnight War in just over a year." Dred chuckled. "After he's left, I'll brag all about him." Although he tried not to show any expression, Bane was immensely pleased to hear this.
As Nebel and Murdock entered the room, Kenneth Dred gestured to Bane. "You too, Jeremy. You need to know all about this."
A large oak desk stood against one wall, beneath a beautiful handpainted map of the world as it had been in 1937, but Dred escorted everyone over to where chairs were arranged around a long leatherbound couch. He gingerly lowered himself to the couch, as his arthritis had been bothering him more and more of late, and waved for Bane to sit next to him. Nebel and Murdock arranged their chairs to suit themselves.
"Well, let's get right to the matter at hand," Dred began. "I know Garrison only has a a short time before he has to catch his flight. I asked you two to confer with us about something new in the Midnight War... the silver man."
"I've sensed his presence," Nebel said. "Enormous gralic force focussed in a single being. I felt it even from upstate and called you."
"Is this being, whatever he is, destructive by nature, do you think?"
Nebel hesitated, then sighed. "He could be. I'm picking up lots of fury and wrath, but nothing actually malicious. My feeling is this silver man is not genuinely evil, but he is ruled too much by anger. He needs to be reigned in."
"I have six reports from my observers," Dred put in as he held up a few typewritten sheets. "The being is usually reported heavily bundled in concealing clothing, but twice he has revealed himself. The descriptions match. Witnesses conclude he is a big man wearing flexible metal armor of some sort but I have my doubts about that. Bullets don't even seem to draw his attention. He has been struck by blackjacks and lead pipes without effect."
"And yet he has not harmed regular citizens or passers-by," Dred remarked. "Apparently he walks the city and intervenes when he deems it necessary. Three drug dealers beating up a man who would not distribute for them. The silver man puts the three in the ER with broken bones. A rapist caught in the act behind a tenement is dragged away and found with his head twisted completely around. The woman said the bundled man gave her a searching look but said nothing." Dred studied the final sheet. "His most dramatic deed occurred in broad daylight just off the Major Deegan. A man forced a driver out of his brand new truck at gunpoint. The silver man yanked the door off the truck and flung the carjacker across the highway to his death from a concussion."
"Sounds like he's doing good work," Bane observed tartly. "The city could use a few more of him."
William Murdock spoke for the first time. He had been sitting with hands folded in front of him and head lowered. "So far as we know," he said sternly. "What has he been doing that we haven't heard about? Who does he answer to, if anyone?" The redhaired middle-aged man leaned back with a sigh. "There's always a danger with vigilantes that they will go overboard and start going after innocent people by mistake. It's happened many times."
Dred nodded. "I agree. I feel we need to confront this silver man and at least reach some understanding of who or what he is. Garrison, I trust your perceptions. What can you tell us?"
The mystic thought for a second. "This being somehow taps more pure gralic force than anyone I have ever encountered. He is dangerous not only to us but to the city, and - not being dramatic- the world. It's crucial that the meeting go well, without misunderstandings."
"Agreed," said Kenneth Dred. The elderly man seemed to be bowed under the weight of the situation. "Our new telepath Katherine should be back later today. With Will's skill at spirit projection as well, I am confident that we will be able to locate this strange being. It's what happens next that worries me."
Bane noticed they were all looking at him expectantly. The young Dire Wolf sat up straighter. "Hey, don't worry about ME starting anything. I'll be diplomatic as possible. Hell, I'll let Mr Murdock do the talking. We can arrange for this silver guy to come here and discuss everything like gentlemen."
With the faintest of smiles on his wizened face, Dred patted Bane's shoulder affectionately. "I know I can count on you to do whatever is necessary, Jeremy... no matter how it goes against your instincts."
"But there's something I wanna say," the Dire Wolf continued. Impatient and restless, he got to his feet as the three older men watched him. "In the last year, I've learned that this city is infested with warlocks and sorcerers. I've tangled with a few. And if we are going to be out there searching for this silver man to see if we can work with him, so are the bad guys. For their own purposes. So we better hustle."
From the half-dismayed looks on their faces, it seemed clear that the three elders had not been thinking of this. William Murdock grinned suddenly and glanced over at Dred. "Oh, you're right. He IS good."
III.
Khang never physically tired and felt no need to rest. Night and day, he strode through the city from one end to the other, searching for trouble where he was needed to intervene. But by the third night, his mind ached and he desired to be left alone. On Tenth Avenue and 23rd Street, he found a delapidated brick building marked with yellow tape CONDEMNED NO ADMITTANCE. A large sign had been nailed over the door UNSAFE FOR HUMAN HABITATION. At three in the morning, when no cars rolled by and no faces were at nearby windows, the giant silver man quietly broke the padlock and entered the building.
The empty rooms inside stank of must and mildew, but he hardly noticed. One window had a gap between the boards nailed over it that allowed moonlight in. In one corner were two empty packing crates and Khang picked them up, one in each hand, to make a sort of seat in front of the window. Slowly he lowered himself onto the crates and felt relief. He had no muscles to grow fatigued, his back and his feet could feel no pain. But his mind was still Human enough to become weary. Without realizing it, his head lowered to his chest. His breathing did not change, for he did not breathe, but in his own way Khang slept for a few hours and dreamed strange chaotic dreams.
Sunlight slanted in through the gap between the boards in the windows when he stirred. Everything seemed clearer to him after his mind had taken time to sort through the events of the past week. Much was still vague to him, but he realized he had taken on this mission voluntarily and it was right for him. It was not a punishment to be placed within this inhuman body but a privilege.
Throughtfully, Khang peeled off the heavy stiff gauntlets and regarded his hands. The silver flexed and moved naturally, he could feel pressure when he grasped an object. Heat, cold, pain.. these things did not register. Why did he have no fingernails? Well, why no ears or mouth? It was beginning to dawn on him that he was not really a solid object of true matter at all, but a construct of energy made so dense and concentrated that it seemed to be solid. Gralic force. How did he know that word? He wasn't certain but he remembered that Gralir, whatever it was, was a transcendental force that acted beyond the laws of physics. It was the stuff of magic and miracles, and he was made up of it.
As he thought, white light crackled and swirled around his exposed hands. This was happening more often as he regained some memory. Khang felt that he was carrying around immense destructive force, that he was filled with lightning bolts he could discharge if he so wanted but he hesitated to experiment. How much power would he unleash? A living thing caught his awareness and the huge head swiveled to stare directly at a rat in the corner.
The unclean thing was digging at an ancient fast food wrapper some vagrant had abandoned there, and Khang felt a distaste for that vermin that blazed up inside him. He pointed his open hand as if in disapproval and to his surprise, a flash of blinding white light rushed across the empty room to crash into the rodent and wipe it from existence. Thunder cracked in that building, deafening in the enclosed space. As the light faded as quickly as it had flared up, no sign of the rat remained. Only a stink of burnt hair and flesh lingered.
Holding up his hands before him, the silver man stood as motionless as the statue he resembled. He sensed that blast was the tiniest hint of the force he could unleash at will and the thought terrified him.
IV.
It was just getting dark when Katherine Wheatley paid the taxi driver and stepped up to the front door of Dred's building. The key was in her hand but before she could insert it in the lock, the front door swung outward to reveal Bane.
"Well," she said with a wry smile, "I believe you couldn't wait for my return, Jeremy! I'm happy to see you, too."
Humourless at the best of times, the young Dire Wolf rushed her inside and glanced suspiciously up and down 38th Street before closing the outside door. "We have a new mission," he told her. "Mr Dred will explain everything."
"I'm gone one day to visit my best friend and it's always a crisis," she said lightly. "What sort of ferocious hellbeast are we chasing tonight?" A year younger than Bane, Katherine was a slim attractive girl of average height dressed in snug jeans and a white rollneck pullover. She had straight black hair to her shoulders and blue eyes in a fresh open face. None of this was relevant to why she was staying here, Bane realized; she could have been hideous and abrasive but her telepathic abilities would have meant Kenneth Dred would have her here for study.
In the reception room, Kenneth Dred and William Murdock both rose as she entered. They had manners from an earlier generation. As everyone seated themselves again, Katherine noticed the tea service was out on the serving table and prepared herself a cup. Dred raised his own cup in a toast and began to explain.
Once she was up to speed on the situation, Katherine raised an elegant eyebrow. "How very interesting. So I take it this is where my particular talents will be used to locate this silver man?"
"So I hope. Will here has a gift of his own, spirit projection. Using gralic force, he can extend his perception out over a large area. This is usually perceived as his spirit leaving his body, astral travel it's called, but that's not exactly accurate." Dred lifted a Ritz cracker and took a single bite. "Between the two of you, I hope we can find this silver man before some local sorcerer from Red Sect or minion of Draldros meets up with him first."
"I'm ready right now, sir," she said promptly. "Where do we start?"
"The silver man has been spotted all over the metropolitan area," Bane cut in. "But most often in Hell's Kitchen."
Will Murdock rose to his feet. "I haven't worked for you in years, Kenneth. Moving to Florida was a mistake. I'm glad to be back, I have missed the Midnight War." He picked up his windbreaker from the back of his chair. "I take it you're driving, Mr Bane?"
The Dire Wolf made a visible effort to be friendly. "You might as well call me Jeremy. We're on the same team. Come on, we'll get started now. Mr Dred, we'll report as soon as we have any news."
"Thank you, my boy," the elderly occultist said with a touch of sadness. As the three of them left the room, Kenneth Dred stiffly rose and went over to his desk, to be near the phone. Turning on the reading lamp, he started on THE NEW YORK TIMES and forced himself to begin reading every word.
V.
Khang returned to the abandoned building at dusk, in a strange mood. He had walked up one street and down another for hours without seeing anything that called for avenging. At one point, he paused as he spotted two high school students in a doorway, with one obviously buying a bag of marijuana from the other. He moved on. Minor laws were not his agenda, he was concerned with justice, with protecting those in danger and punishing the wicked. As evening began to fall, the giant silver man suddenly felt distressed. Was he doomed to do this forever? What good would it do? He might stop a mugging or a sexual assault or catch a burglar, but really was that any more than sweeping back a snowstorm with a broom? He needed to strike out at bigger targets, he felt he had a greater purpose.
Entering the vacant structure, he found no one had been there in his absence. Khang moved aimlessly about the empty room, then began stripping off some of his garments. The slouch hat, goggles and scarf came away to reveal the featureless metallic helmet of his head. Khang sat down heavily on the crates, leaning forward, putting his head in his hands. He could not close his eyes, they were like openings into a hollow shell filled with white fire. Even with his hands over them, his perception still worked and he still saw in all directions. Behind him, the door whose lock he had broken swung inward and two men entered. The silver man did not move, giving no sign he was aware of them.
Then, one man called, "Khang?"
The silver giant rose sharply to his full height. When he spoke, his voice came without lungs or mouth, echoing in the air. "How do you know that name?"
"Our Lady knows what she needs to know," came the answer. The men were short, stocky, with thick arms and legs. The olive skin and curly hair and flattened faces made it difficult to guess their origin, and their vaguely sing-sing accent confused the issue further. Both wore simple dark pants and white dress shirts.
Khang swung to face them, his eyes shining with their own inner light. "Speak, then. Tell me more."
"We have been sent by Allinor Kje to request you attend her," one of the men said carefully. "She does not summon you but asks that you allow us to bring you to her."
"Tactfully put," the silver man rumbled. "Who is this Allinor Kje you serve?"
The men lowered their heads and bowed slightly. "It is not proper for us to speak of our Lady. Will you come with us?"
Khang reflected for a bare instant, then made a strange rumbling noise in his chest. "Very well. She may have some of the answers I seek." He wrapped the scarf over his face again, strapped on the goggles and picked up the slouch hat. "What are your names?"
"We are but humble servants of the noble Darthim," said the man who had done all the speaking. I am Msalaho and this is my brother Inguwe. Our car waits outside."
Khang followed them to the street, where a black Chevrolet van with tinted windows stood illegally parked at the corner. The men treated him with respect that seemed a bit overdone, opening the back door and waiting until he had seated himself before getting in the front and pulling out into traffic.
Unnnoticed by the minions of the Darthim, a dark blue Buick followed them from one block behind. Behind the wheel, Jeremy Bane watched the van with grim fascination. "See the size of that guy? He could play pro basketball."
"And pro football at the same time," William Murdock put in lightly from the back seat. "That's a big fellow."
Seating in the front passenger seat, Katherine smiled at that but it faded quickly. "I'm having trouble getting a fix on him. His name is Khang. Whatever kind of name that it. He has so much gralic force in him that it pushes me back. I can't... focus, but he's not malevolent. I'm getting a basically decent mind. Maybe too much anger."
"What about the two goons with him?" asked Bane.
"Oh, they're vile. Wicked brutes. Foreigners, but not from any country I know. Maroch? Wherever Maroch is? They are willing slaves to a sort of aristocracy called the Darthim." Katherine shuddered and closed her eyes, turning her head to one side. "It's too unpleasant being in contact with them!"
"All right, fine," Bane snapped. "Just keep us on their trail, you can manage that?"
"I must say, Jeremy, you have never shown any consideration for me," Katherine shot back. "And to be honest, you have not the faintest idea what it's like to read the minds of these sick sick people we chase!"
From the rear, Murdock said quietly, "Easy there, kids! You notice they're stopping in front of the Elmford? Maybe we should pull over too?"
With a curse, Bane swung over and took a parking spot, ignoring the furious glare from another driver who had been aiming for it. They had passed the black Chevy van as it stopped. As that driver moved on, the Dire Wolf watched in the rearview mirror as the van doubleparked in front of a canopied entrance that read ELMFORD TOWER in gilded script. A doorman in a red uniform with braid and epaulets and white gloves stepped forward.
"There's an evil mind in that building," Katherine whispered. "Cruel beyond human cruelty, I'm afraid to be even picking it up on it...."
"Break it off, Kath," Bane told her sharply. "Whoever wants to meet with this Khang must be a warlock or something." As they watched, the minion in the passenger seat got out and opened the door for the silver giant. As Khang rose to his full height, bundled so not a glimpse of his person could be seen, the doorman simply touched a forefinger to his cap and held the glass door to the Elmford open for them. The van pulled away.
"I need to get in there somehow," Bane said.
"Wait, this is why Kenneth asked me to help out." William Murdock settled back in the cushy seat of the old Buick. "Listen. I will seem to be dazed, even unconscious. It's okay, don't worry about me. I will be projecting my astral form after them." With that, the redheaded man exhaled sharply and slumped, his head falling forward as if he had passed out.
Watching him thoughtfully, Katherine said, "I suppose what he does, this astral travel trick, is related to telepathy. He carries it a step further. He extends his awareness so completely that it leaves his body vulnerable." She turned her dark blue eyes toward the Dire Wolf. "I don't think I would fancy being able to that, Jeremy."
"It's all beyond me," Bane snorted sharply. "Honestly, if I hadn't seen proof a hundred times with you, I still would think telepathy is a fairy tale."
The British girl gave him a wry smile. "One likes to keep an open mind."
"Not so open the wind blows through it," Bane said. "Hey, he's stirring."
In fact, William Murdock did shift his weight, take a deep sobbing breath and open his eyes. "Damn. It's not safe to be around those two. Altogether too much gralic force ready to explode and I think they both knew I was nearby."
"Who's they?" demanded Bane. "Khang we know, but who is he meeting?"
"Darthim! There's a female Dartha up there, with a half dozen Human slaves. I'd forgotten how malicious and sadistic they are. With her sorcery, she sensed the presence of Khang and I gather she's curious about him. They were just meeting when I had to draw back."
The Dire Wolf started to open his car door. "If she gets this Khang on her side, no one on Earth is safe. I've got to go up there..."
"Wait," Murdock interrupted, placing a hand on Bane's shoulder in restraint. "Khang was enraged. He responded to the sight of her as if he had met Darthim before. I don't think we have anything to worry--"
His sentence was cut off as they all caught sight of a window on the twelfth floor flaring up with the most intense white glare any of them had ever seen. Vivid afterimages danced in front of their eyes as if they had witnessed lightning close up. A rumble of thunder came from that floor of the hotel, muffled but distinct.
"What the hell?" demanded Bane, still with his door open and one foot on the street. "What was that, a bomb going off?"
"That was Khang," Will Murdock answered with a sort of awe. "I don't think we have to worry about dealing with that Darthan woman."
Katherine reached out with her mind, tentatively at first but then with relief. "She's gone. It's true. I can feel the wickedness has just.. disappeared."
Slowly closing the car door, Bane settled back in his seat. "I met a Dartha or two. They're more powerful than any Human sorcerer. This Khang is something new in Midnight War. He could tilt the balance any way he chose."
"And here he comes," Murdock said. "There. Leaving the lobby."
They watched as the towering figure, still bundled in heavy clothing, strode forcefully past the doorman and swung to the right, heading south on Park Avenue. Something about the stiff way he held himself, the high shoulders and swinging arms, showed strong emotion just under the surface.
"I wouldn't care to get in his way," Katherine muttered. "Shall we follow at a prudent distance?"
Murdock said, "Let me trail him unseen. I won't get too close and if you lose him, I can come back to my body and give you directions." With that he went limp again. Bane could have sworn he got a glimpse of a vague semi-transparent shape rising up from William Murdock and drifting away but he decided it must be his imagination. These two psychics were rubbing off on him.
As he started the car up, Bane turned to Katherine. "It's not going to be easy to trail someone who's on foot, Kath. Think you can keep enough contact so we don't lose him?"
"Oh, absolutely." She touched her chin as if reflecting. "I'm not really afraid of Khang. He's awesome the same way as a force of nature is, like a hurricane or an earthquake. But somehow...."
"I'll let him go another block," Bane decided. "Wait. He stopped for something."
As they watched, the silver giant turned around and swung one huge arm as if swatting at something. A visible crackle of energy played around him, startling passers-by and making many stop to gawk. But a second later, Khang started striding quickly away again.
In the Buick, Katherine Wheatley gasped and clutched at her heart. "Jeremy! Will's dead, he killed Will just now?"
"What? Are you sure?" Bane reached in the back seat to find Murdock lying limply with his eyes wide open. The Dire Wolf reached for a pulse but couldn't find one. "That flash of light around Khang... he felt Will's astral self and just burned it away. Come on, West Side Medical Center is just a few block that way." Bane pulled into traffic, cutting off a taxi and getting a loud blast on the horn from the cab but ignoring it. "We can be there in two minutes!"
VI.
William James Murdock was listed as DOA in the Emergency Room, the doctor in charge called it at 9:39. No cause was immediately obvious. Blood work came back with no abnormalities and X-Rays showed no blood clots or sign of strokes. Bane and Katherine waited for a few more hours before being told they could go. There were no signs of foul play and the fact they had brought him here immediately was in their favor also. They signed some forms and went back outside to where Dred's Buick waited in the parking lot.
"Should we phone Mr Dred from here?" Katherine sniffled. She had been on the verge of crying the entire time. She had not known Will Murdock, had only met him less than a day before his death, but she was still strongly moved by it. Her mind had picked up on his being snuffed out like a candle flame and it haunted her because it was so sudden and so final.
"No," Bane said almost inaudibly. "I think I should give him the news personally." He got behind the wheel again and started the Buick up. "I'm not looking forward to it, to be honest."
Katherine began to cry quietly. "He died so suddenly, Jeremy. The silver man felt his presence and just, I don't know--swatted at Will's spirit the way you'd swat a mosquito buzzing around your head. I don't know if he even realized what he was doing."
"If I have anything to say about it, that Khang is going to pay for what he did. What if he had picked up on your mind trying to contact him? What if he blasted at you? Kath, that could be you down there in the... morgue." His voice broke as he spoke.
She gripped his arm tightly. "I appreciate the concern, lad, really I do. And I know it's not easy for you to show any softness like that." She wiped her eyes with the back of a hand. "This Midnight War, it's not a game, is it?"
Bane reached 38th Street, turned onto Lexington Avenue and into the alley where the steel door automatically raised to let them down the ramp. In the small underground garage, he parked the Buick and went with her along the narrow passageway. To one side was the vault, on the other the arsenal. They went up steep concrete steps to emerge through a panel in the back of the closet in the front hall. Lights showed in the open door of the conference room.
Seated behind his desk, Kenneth Dred put down an old-fashioned fountain pen with which he had been working on the TIMES crossword puzzle. As he saw the expression on the faces of his two young proteges, his own face sagged with the sudden understanding. "Something went wrong," he said. "Where's Will?"
Simply and directly, Bane told the old man what had happened. As he spoke and the story sank in, Kenneth Dred seemed to visible shrink a little. He looked down at his folded gnarled hands and did not interrupt with questions.
"I'm sorry, sir," the Dire Wolf said as he finished. "I wish I didn't have to bring you news like this."
"Thank you, Jeremy. I'm glad you told me everything. It's best that way. Poor Will. He never had a really happy life. His experiences in the Army, his divorce... His gift was all he had really, and in the end it finished him. You wonder what it all means. And now this Khang is still out there...."
"Not for long," Bane growled. "I'm going after him. First, a stop in the arsenal in the basement, though."
"Your silver daggers may not be effective," Dred told him. "I get the feeling Khang acted out of ignorance rather than malevolence. He may not be a wholly evil creature. Take some Cyrinkyl, there are two bags of it in the vault."
"If you say so, Mr Dred. I'll be back when it's all settled." He started from the reception room but Katherine quickly rushed to stand beside him.
"It's too dangerous for you, girl," Bane began.
"Oh, really? And how will you find him without telepathy, my dear Dire Wolf?"
He started to argue, then closed his mouth with obvious effort. "You're right. Okay, let's go."
In the doorway, the young telepath glanced back at Kenneth Dred at his desk, trying to give him a bit of encouragement. "Don't worry, sir," she said, "I'll protect him." Despite everything, the blithe optimism of that comment did make him smile.
VII.
At one-twenty that morning, Katherine tugged sharply on Bane's right sleeve and he pulled over at the curb, much too close to a fire hydrant. "He's in that building there," she said. "I'm surprised you can't sense him yourself, he's burning like a torch in the night."
"Yeah? Well, I guess I'm just not psychic," Bane muttered. He stared up at the building from which no light showed, with the windows cracked and boarded over, the bricks crumbling. "I come in when the action starts."
"Jeremy? Be careful. I know you never listen when I tell you that but this is.. special. The silver man is like nothing you've ever tackled before." She shook her head, the black hair swinging, and her voice was uncertain. "He may be too much for any flesh and blood to handle..."
For once, a trace of softness tinged Bane's cold voice. "Thanks, Kath. I appreciate the concern. But this is what I do, I can't change. Better move the car so we don't get a ticket." With that, he slid out from behind the wheel and vanished into the darkness. With a resigned sight, the telepath eased over, put the Buick in gear and pulled out to go up a block where she saw an available spot. She was surprised traffic was so light that night and wondered vaguely if people were subconsciously avoiding the area. She had a feeling Khang's presence was strong enough that average folks could pick up on it and be uneasy.
Blending in with the night in his black outfit, the Dire Wolf saw the Hudson River to his left, almost within diving range. Tenth Avenue, 23rd Street, not the best neighborhood. He had once fought three bikers a few blocks away from here. Circling the condemned building that Katherine had pointed out, he identified the door where the silver man would have used to enter. The broken padlock, dangling on its hasp, was more than clue enough. But where a giant hulk like Khang would enter, Bane saw something better suited for himself. At ground level, a shallow slit of a window opened into a basement. Bane pressed with his palms, popped the pane out and caught it before it could fall inward. He carefully leaned it up against the outer wall, sniffed the mildewed interior of the basement and got down on his stomach. Lean to the point of being gaunt, the Dire Wolf passed easily through the narrow opening and silently dropped onto the dank cement floor within.
In a few seconds, his night vision kicked in. Katherine had teased him about being as much a creature of the night as the monsters they chased, but there was too much truth in that for it to seem funny to Bane. He could see better in gloom than in bright sunlight, for whatever reason. Finding the stairs, he crept silently up through an open door to the main room. Here, vague light from a nearby streetlamp cast two thin bars of illumination into the murk, and here Bane got his first real look at Khang.
Down on one knee, hands flat on the concrete floor, head lowered humbly, the unmoving silver man resembled a burnished statue so exactly that Bane was confused for a second. Without the human clothing, Khang shimmered in the gloom as if reflecting light that was not there. And, as he slowly raised his head, the two rectangular eyeslots glowed vividly from within like searchlights.
Smoothly, easily, the giant rose to his seven foot plus and stood with his back to the watching Dire Wolf. "I know you are there," boomed the bass voice that seemed to come from all directions at the same time. "It is time we met."
"I couldn't agree more," growled Bane as he rushed forward. In one hand, he held a small chamois bag tied with a rawhide cord and in an instant, he flung its contents directly into Khang's face. A brilliant cloud of tiny golden particles swirled around the silver man, clinging and sticking to him. This was Cyrinkyl, the 'stardust' created by the Eldarin as their humane weapon that sapped both physical strength and gralic power to render the most deadly enemy helpless. Khang made an odd strangling noise and reeled back, almost falling as Bane leaped headlong upon him.
A dozen full-power hooking blows rang out like hammers hitting gongs. If he had been barehanded, the Dire Wolf would have broken all the bones in both fists instantly but he had slipped on chain-mail gloves with steel ridges on the outer edges and across the knuckles. He had constructed these combat gloves himself after realizing some of the creatures he was going to be facing. His punches clanged sharply, so close together they sounded like drumming.
But Khang was not harmed. His head did not even twitch from blows that would have killed a horse. Almost at once, he threw off the enervation of the Cyrinkyl and straightened up. Bane went into a frenzy, pummeling the unyielding silver body even faster and harder. Then Khang thrust out an open palm in a shove that threw the Dire Wolf off his feet entirely and skidding onto his back across the floor.
Rolling, getting back up, Bane yanked the combat gloves off. His hands were already starting to swell and throb. Somehow he whipped the silver daggers from their sheaths beneath his sleeves and began to stalk forward menacingly.
Khang held out his hand and a shaft of light brighter than the noon sun shone from it to play across the concrete floor, melting a ditch in it half a foot deep. The smell of hot stone stang his nostrils and Bane blinked as his vision blurred at the glare. He drew back in unaccustomed confusion, lowering the daggers.
"Hear me, Jeremy Bane," came the hollow rumbling voice, "for now I have answers we both have needed. We are not meant to be foes. Behold, I am Khang, servant of Halar-Koth, granted this form and this power by the Higher Ones themselves. Dark times are at hand. I will be needed to protect the Humans of this world, as will you."
"I'm listening," Bane said grudgingly, not fully understanding. "You know you killed William Murdock today, don't you?"
"Yes. It was not intentional. I reacted rashly to a presence I felt and knew nothing about." Khang lowered his shining head again and his wide shoulders slumped. "I have done wrong and I have been assigned penance by the Ones who grant me this life."
"Yeah? Like what, community service will make it better? Murdock is still dead!"
"It is not given to us to return his life," Khang went on. He lifted his huge hand again, but palm up this time in a beseeching gesture. "But these are my words. I will be your ally, Jeremy. Wherever you strive in the Midnight War, whatever enemies you challenge, I will stand with you. This I swear! Will you accept my allegiance?"
For the longest moment of his life, Bane did not respond. Then he let reason and suspicion go by, and acted on a deep-seated instinct he had not felt before. He sheathed the daggers with some difficulty as his hands were stiffening and becoming clumsy. Then he stepped over the still-softened hot trench in the floor and took that huge offered hand in his own.
"It's a deal, Khang," he surprised himself by saying. "May God help us both."
2/25/2015
3/18-3/27/1979
I.
At midnight, pure white light brighter than the sun flared silently in an alley off Ninth Avenue. As it faded and normal colors returned, a huge metallic form was seen on one bent knee and both hands flat on the alley floor. Steam rose from the silver surface of the being as if it had been taken from a kiln into the cool night air. The gleaming form lifted its head and rose effortlessly to stand erect, with the silver skin flexing as easily as human hide.
Khang stood several inches over seven feet tall, wide-shouldered and hewn with the muscles of a wrestler. Yet he had no fingernails, no navel or genitals, his feet were solid pads without toes. He looked more like an abstract statue given animation than a living man coated with silver. Except for two glowing eye-slots, his head was a featureless helmet without hair, nose or mouth or ears. If anyone had been there to see the arrival, they would have been stunned by the surreal sight.
For a long moment, Khang stood motionless, lost in thought. He lowered his head and regarded his shining hands as if seeing them for the first time. There was a Salvation Army store next to him. Perhaps that was why he had materialized here? He vaguely remembered he was here for a purpose, he had a mission but he could not quite think clearly yet. Khang pressed his hand against the side door of the store and the lock snapped audibly although he had not even tried to break it. He was stronger than flesh and blood, perhaps strong beyond all previous definitions of the word.
Entering the darkened interior, he found he could see quite plainly, although "see" might not have been the most accurate word. He sensed his surrounding, in all directions equally as well, without any disorientation. It was strange. Khang moved slowly, distractedly, as he found oversized clothing that would fit him. Huge clunky brogans, flannel trousers, a tan raincoat, all so large an average-sized man would be lost within them. Even so, they were slightly tight when he moved. A wide-brimmed slouch hat and workman's gauntlets meant for the railroad were put on next. Better than nothing.
He was leaving the store with the vague worry he had tripped a silent alarm while entering when he saw two more items. A wool scarf in bright plaid, which he wrapped to conceal his face, and a pair of welder's goggles he could strap on. He had no money to leave in exchange, which troubled him. Whoever he had been before this transformation had been too honest...
Whoever he had been before? That was a strange thought. He had not always been Khang. He had been... someone else. Flesh, with breath in his lungs and blood in his veins, not a living metal statue. But that was all he could remember. It was all so strange, he needed time to think.
Walking out onto the night streets, Khang began heading up Ninth Avenue without clear purpose in mind. The cars looked so different. Where were the tailfins? The chrome? The models seemed so small. And the people he passed were dressed so oddly. Women wearing pants. Men without suits or hats, all in dungarees and gaudy T-shirts and the billed caps that baseball players wore. He realized now he had been gone for a long time.
II.
As the doorbell rang, Jeremy Bane trotted rapidly down the staircase into the front hall. Just over twenty-one, he was so lean as to seem gaunt and he moved with a restless energy that let him cross the hallway in a flash. The young Dire Wolf opened the inner door to the tiny foyer and peered suspiciously through the lense in the street door. He immediately recognized the two men outside from Mr Dred's description. Garrison Nebel and Will Murdock.
Opening the front door, Bane ushered them into the foyer and through the front hall. "Come on in," he said without noticeable warmth. Even at his best, the Dire Wolf was not a friendly young man. The all black outfit he habitually wore- slacks, turtleneck and sport jacket- added to the reserved impression he made. "Mr Dred is in the reception room."
Nebel was the taller man, well-dressed in a charcoal grey suit and tie. He had a long somber face, light brown hair and was wearing tinted glasses. As he met Bane's wary gaze, Nebel smiled slightly and nodded. Next to Nebel, William Murdock looked a bit dumpy. He was shorter, thick around the middle, and he was wearing tan pants, a light brown shirt and a windbreaker. Murdock had brick red hair that was receding far up by the temples, and an upturned nose that gave him a quizzical expression.
In the open doorway to the reception room just behind them, Kenneth Dred stuck his gnomish face out with a genuine grin. "Garrison! Will! Good of you fellows to come. At seventy-nine, I don't get out much."
"Always glad to visit," Murdock replied heartily. The three men exchanged greetings while Bane watched sourly from a slight distance. Seeing him, Dred paused and said, "I must introduce my protege, Jeremy Bane. A remarkable young man, he has achieved so much in the Midnight War in just over a year." Dred chuckled. "After he's left, I'll brag all about him." Although he tried not to show any expression, Bane was immensely pleased to hear this.
As Nebel and Murdock entered the room, Kenneth Dred gestured to Bane. "You too, Jeremy. You need to know all about this."
A large oak desk stood against one wall, beneath a beautiful handpainted map of the world as it had been in 1937, but Dred escorted everyone over to where chairs were arranged around a long leatherbound couch. He gingerly lowered himself to the couch, as his arthritis had been bothering him more and more of late, and waved for Bane to sit next to him. Nebel and Murdock arranged their chairs to suit themselves.
"Well, let's get right to the matter at hand," Dred began. "I know Garrison only has a a short time before he has to catch his flight. I asked you two to confer with us about something new in the Midnight War... the silver man."
"I've sensed his presence," Nebel said. "Enormous gralic force focussed in a single being. I felt it even from upstate and called you."
"Is this being, whatever he is, destructive by nature, do you think?"
Nebel hesitated, then sighed. "He could be. I'm picking up lots of fury and wrath, but nothing actually malicious. My feeling is this silver man is not genuinely evil, but he is ruled too much by anger. He needs to be reigned in."
"I have six reports from my observers," Dred put in as he held up a few typewritten sheets. "The being is usually reported heavily bundled in concealing clothing, but twice he has revealed himself. The descriptions match. Witnesses conclude he is a big man wearing flexible metal armor of some sort but I have my doubts about that. Bullets don't even seem to draw his attention. He has been struck by blackjacks and lead pipes without effect."
"And yet he has not harmed regular citizens or passers-by," Dred remarked. "Apparently he walks the city and intervenes when he deems it necessary. Three drug dealers beating up a man who would not distribute for them. The silver man puts the three in the ER with broken bones. A rapist caught in the act behind a tenement is dragged away and found with his head twisted completely around. The woman said the bundled man gave her a searching look but said nothing." Dred studied the final sheet. "His most dramatic deed occurred in broad daylight just off the Major Deegan. A man forced a driver out of his brand new truck at gunpoint. The silver man yanked the door off the truck and flung the carjacker across the highway to his death from a concussion."
"Sounds like he's doing good work," Bane observed tartly. "The city could use a few more of him."
William Murdock spoke for the first time. He had been sitting with hands folded in front of him and head lowered. "So far as we know," he said sternly. "What has he been doing that we haven't heard about? Who does he answer to, if anyone?" The redhaired middle-aged man leaned back with a sigh. "There's always a danger with vigilantes that they will go overboard and start going after innocent people by mistake. It's happened many times."
Dred nodded. "I agree. I feel we need to confront this silver man and at least reach some understanding of who or what he is. Garrison, I trust your perceptions. What can you tell us?"
The mystic thought for a second. "This being somehow taps more pure gralic force than anyone I have ever encountered. He is dangerous not only to us but to the city, and - not being dramatic- the world. It's crucial that the meeting go well, without misunderstandings."
"Agreed," said Kenneth Dred. The elderly man seemed to be bowed under the weight of the situation. "Our new telepath Katherine should be back later today. With Will's skill at spirit projection as well, I am confident that we will be able to locate this strange being. It's what happens next that worries me."
Bane noticed they were all looking at him expectantly. The young Dire Wolf sat up straighter. "Hey, don't worry about ME starting anything. I'll be diplomatic as possible. Hell, I'll let Mr Murdock do the talking. We can arrange for this silver guy to come here and discuss everything like gentlemen."
With the faintest of smiles on his wizened face, Dred patted Bane's shoulder affectionately. "I know I can count on you to do whatever is necessary, Jeremy... no matter how it goes against your instincts."
"But there's something I wanna say," the Dire Wolf continued. Impatient and restless, he got to his feet as the three older men watched him. "In the last year, I've learned that this city is infested with warlocks and sorcerers. I've tangled with a few. And if we are going to be out there searching for this silver man to see if we can work with him, so are the bad guys. For their own purposes. So we better hustle."
From the half-dismayed looks on their faces, it seemed clear that the three elders had not been thinking of this. William Murdock grinned suddenly and glanced over at Dred. "Oh, you're right. He IS good."
III.
Khang never physically tired and felt no need to rest. Night and day, he strode through the city from one end to the other, searching for trouble where he was needed to intervene. But by the third night, his mind ached and he desired to be left alone. On Tenth Avenue and 23rd Street, he found a delapidated brick building marked with yellow tape CONDEMNED NO ADMITTANCE. A large sign had been nailed over the door UNSAFE FOR HUMAN HABITATION. At three in the morning, when no cars rolled by and no faces were at nearby windows, the giant silver man quietly broke the padlock and entered the building.
The empty rooms inside stank of must and mildew, but he hardly noticed. One window had a gap between the boards nailed over it that allowed moonlight in. In one corner were two empty packing crates and Khang picked them up, one in each hand, to make a sort of seat in front of the window. Slowly he lowered himself onto the crates and felt relief. He had no muscles to grow fatigued, his back and his feet could feel no pain. But his mind was still Human enough to become weary. Without realizing it, his head lowered to his chest. His breathing did not change, for he did not breathe, but in his own way Khang slept for a few hours and dreamed strange chaotic dreams.
Sunlight slanted in through the gap between the boards in the windows when he stirred. Everything seemed clearer to him after his mind had taken time to sort through the events of the past week. Much was still vague to him, but he realized he had taken on this mission voluntarily and it was right for him. It was not a punishment to be placed within this inhuman body but a privilege.
Throughtfully, Khang peeled off the heavy stiff gauntlets and regarded his hands. The silver flexed and moved naturally, he could feel pressure when he grasped an object. Heat, cold, pain.. these things did not register. Why did he have no fingernails? Well, why no ears or mouth? It was beginning to dawn on him that he was not really a solid object of true matter at all, but a construct of energy made so dense and concentrated that it seemed to be solid. Gralic force. How did he know that word? He wasn't certain but he remembered that Gralir, whatever it was, was a transcendental force that acted beyond the laws of physics. It was the stuff of magic and miracles, and he was made up of it.
As he thought, white light crackled and swirled around his exposed hands. This was happening more often as he regained some memory. Khang felt that he was carrying around immense destructive force, that he was filled with lightning bolts he could discharge if he so wanted but he hesitated to experiment. How much power would he unleash? A living thing caught his awareness and the huge head swiveled to stare directly at a rat in the corner.
The unclean thing was digging at an ancient fast food wrapper some vagrant had abandoned there, and Khang felt a distaste for that vermin that blazed up inside him. He pointed his open hand as if in disapproval and to his surprise, a flash of blinding white light rushed across the empty room to crash into the rodent and wipe it from existence. Thunder cracked in that building, deafening in the enclosed space. As the light faded as quickly as it had flared up, no sign of the rat remained. Only a stink of burnt hair and flesh lingered.
Holding up his hands before him, the silver man stood as motionless as the statue he resembled. He sensed that blast was the tiniest hint of the force he could unleash at will and the thought terrified him.
IV.
It was just getting dark when Katherine Wheatley paid the taxi driver and stepped up to the front door of Dred's building. The key was in her hand but before she could insert it in the lock, the front door swung outward to reveal Bane.
"Well," she said with a wry smile, "I believe you couldn't wait for my return, Jeremy! I'm happy to see you, too."
Humourless at the best of times, the young Dire Wolf rushed her inside and glanced suspiciously up and down 38th Street before closing the outside door. "We have a new mission," he told her. "Mr Dred will explain everything."
"I'm gone one day to visit my best friend and it's always a crisis," she said lightly. "What sort of ferocious hellbeast are we chasing tonight?" A year younger than Bane, Katherine was a slim attractive girl of average height dressed in snug jeans and a white rollneck pullover. She had straight black hair to her shoulders and blue eyes in a fresh open face. None of this was relevant to why she was staying here, Bane realized; she could have been hideous and abrasive but her telepathic abilities would have meant Kenneth Dred would have her here for study.
In the reception room, Kenneth Dred and William Murdock both rose as she entered. They had manners from an earlier generation. As everyone seated themselves again, Katherine noticed the tea service was out on the serving table and prepared herself a cup. Dred raised his own cup in a toast and began to explain.
Once she was up to speed on the situation, Katherine raised an elegant eyebrow. "How very interesting. So I take it this is where my particular talents will be used to locate this silver man?"
"So I hope. Will here has a gift of his own, spirit projection. Using gralic force, he can extend his perception out over a large area. This is usually perceived as his spirit leaving his body, astral travel it's called, but that's not exactly accurate." Dred lifted a Ritz cracker and took a single bite. "Between the two of you, I hope we can find this silver man before some local sorcerer from Red Sect or minion of Draldros meets up with him first."
"I'm ready right now, sir," she said promptly. "Where do we start?"
"The silver man has been spotted all over the metropolitan area," Bane cut in. "But most often in Hell's Kitchen."
Will Murdock rose to his feet. "I haven't worked for you in years, Kenneth. Moving to Florida was a mistake. I'm glad to be back, I have missed the Midnight War." He picked up his windbreaker from the back of his chair. "I take it you're driving, Mr Bane?"
The Dire Wolf made a visible effort to be friendly. "You might as well call me Jeremy. We're on the same team. Come on, we'll get started now. Mr Dred, we'll report as soon as we have any news."
"Thank you, my boy," the elderly occultist said with a touch of sadness. As the three of them left the room, Kenneth Dred stiffly rose and went over to his desk, to be near the phone. Turning on the reading lamp, he started on THE NEW YORK TIMES and forced himself to begin reading every word.
V.
Khang returned to the abandoned building at dusk, in a strange mood. He had walked up one street and down another for hours without seeing anything that called for avenging. At one point, he paused as he spotted two high school students in a doorway, with one obviously buying a bag of marijuana from the other. He moved on. Minor laws were not his agenda, he was concerned with justice, with protecting those in danger and punishing the wicked. As evening began to fall, the giant silver man suddenly felt distressed. Was he doomed to do this forever? What good would it do? He might stop a mugging or a sexual assault or catch a burglar, but really was that any more than sweeping back a snowstorm with a broom? He needed to strike out at bigger targets, he felt he had a greater purpose.
Entering the vacant structure, he found no one had been there in his absence. Khang moved aimlessly about the empty room, then began stripping off some of his garments. The slouch hat, goggles and scarf came away to reveal the featureless metallic helmet of his head. Khang sat down heavily on the crates, leaning forward, putting his head in his hands. He could not close his eyes, they were like openings into a hollow shell filled with white fire. Even with his hands over them, his perception still worked and he still saw in all directions. Behind him, the door whose lock he had broken swung inward and two men entered. The silver man did not move, giving no sign he was aware of them.
Then, one man called, "Khang?"
The silver giant rose sharply to his full height. When he spoke, his voice came without lungs or mouth, echoing in the air. "How do you know that name?"
"Our Lady knows what she needs to know," came the answer. The men were short, stocky, with thick arms and legs. The olive skin and curly hair and flattened faces made it difficult to guess their origin, and their vaguely sing-sing accent confused the issue further. Both wore simple dark pants and white dress shirts.
Khang swung to face them, his eyes shining with their own inner light. "Speak, then. Tell me more."
"We have been sent by Allinor Kje to request you attend her," one of the men said carefully. "She does not summon you but asks that you allow us to bring you to her."
"Tactfully put," the silver man rumbled. "Who is this Allinor Kje you serve?"
The men lowered their heads and bowed slightly. "It is not proper for us to speak of our Lady. Will you come with us?"
Khang reflected for a bare instant, then made a strange rumbling noise in his chest. "Very well. She may have some of the answers I seek." He wrapped the scarf over his face again, strapped on the goggles and picked up the slouch hat. "What are your names?"
"We are but humble servants of the noble Darthim," said the man who had done all the speaking. I am Msalaho and this is my brother Inguwe. Our car waits outside."
Khang followed them to the street, where a black Chevrolet van with tinted windows stood illegally parked at the corner. The men treated him with respect that seemed a bit overdone, opening the back door and waiting until he had seated himself before getting in the front and pulling out into traffic.
Unnnoticed by the minions of the Darthim, a dark blue Buick followed them from one block behind. Behind the wheel, Jeremy Bane watched the van with grim fascination. "See the size of that guy? He could play pro basketball."
"And pro football at the same time," William Murdock put in lightly from the back seat. "That's a big fellow."
Seating in the front passenger seat, Katherine smiled at that but it faded quickly. "I'm having trouble getting a fix on him. His name is Khang. Whatever kind of name that it. He has so much gralic force in him that it pushes me back. I can't... focus, but he's not malevolent. I'm getting a basically decent mind. Maybe too much anger."
"What about the two goons with him?" asked Bane.
"Oh, they're vile. Wicked brutes. Foreigners, but not from any country I know. Maroch? Wherever Maroch is? They are willing slaves to a sort of aristocracy called the Darthim." Katherine shuddered and closed her eyes, turning her head to one side. "It's too unpleasant being in contact with them!"
"All right, fine," Bane snapped. "Just keep us on their trail, you can manage that?"
"I must say, Jeremy, you have never shown any consideration for me," Katherine shot back. "And to be honest, you have not the faintest idea what it's like to read the minds of these sick sick people we chase!"
From the rear, Murdock said quietly, "Easy there, kids! You notice they're stopping in front of the Elmford? Maybe we should pull over too?"
With a curse, Bane swung over and took a parking spot, ignoring the furious glare from another driver who had been aiming for it. They had passed the black Chevy van as it stopped. As that driver moved on, the Dire Wolf watched in the rearview mirror as the van doubleparked in front of a canopied entrance that read ELMFORD TOWER in gilded script. A doorman in a red uniform with braid and epaulets and white gloves stepped forward.
"There's an evil mind in that building," Katherine whispered. "Cruel beyond human cruelty, I'm afraid to be even picking it up on it...."
"Break it off, Kath," Bane told her sharply. "Whoever wants to meet with this Khang must be a warlock or something." As they watched, the minion in the passenger seat got out and opened the door for the silver giant. As Khang rose to his full height, bundled so not a glimpse of his person could be seen, the doorman simply touched a forefinger to his cap and held the glass door to the Elmford open for them. The van pulled away.
"I need to get in there somehow," Bane said.
"Wait, this is why Kenneth asked me to help out." William Murdock settled back in the cushy seat of the old Buick. "Listen. I will seem to be dazed, even unconscious. It's okay, don't worry about me. I will be projecting my astral form after them." With that, the redheaded man exhaled sharply and slumped, his head falling forward as if he had passed out.
Watching him thoughtfully, Katherine said, "I suppose what he does, this astral travel trick, is related to telepathy. He carries it a step further. He extends his awareness so completely that it leaves his body vulnerable." She turned her dark blue eyes toward the Dire Wolf. "I don't think I would fancy being able to that, Jeremy."
"It's all beyond me," Bane snorted sharply. "Honestly, if I hadn't seen proof a hundred times with you, I still would think telepathy is a fairy tale."
The British girl gave him a wry smile. "One likes to keep an open mind."
"Not so open the wind blows through it," Bane said. "Hey, he's stirring."
In fact, William Murdock did shift his weight, take a deep sobbing breath and open his eyes. "Damn. It's not safe to be around those two. Altogether too much gralic force ready to explode and I think they both knew I was nearby."
"Who's they?" demanded Bane. "Khang we know, but who is he meeting?"
"Darthim! There's a female Dartha up there, with a half dozen Human slaves. I'd forgotten how malicious and sadistic they are. With her sorcery, she sensed the presence of Khang and I gather she's curious about him. They were just meeting when I had to draw back."
The Dire Wolf started to open his car door. "If she gets this Khang on her side, no one on Earth is safe. I've got to go up there..."
"Wait," Murdock interrupted, placing a hand on Bane's shoulder in restraint. "Khang was enraged. He responded to the sight of her as if he had met Darthim before. I don't think we have anything to worry--"
His sentence was cut off as they all caught sight of a window on the twelfth floor flaring up with the most intense white glare any of them had ever seen. Vivid afterimages danced in front of their eyes as if they had witnessed lightning close up. A rumble of thunder came from that floor of the hotel, muffled but distinct.
"What the hell?" demanded Bane, still with his door open and one foot on the street. "What was that, a bomb going off?"
"That was Khang," Will Murdock answered with a sort of awe. "I don't think we have to worry about dealing with that Darthan woman."
Katherine reached out with her mind, tentatively at first but then with relief. "She's gone. It's true. I can feel the wickedness has just.. disappeared."
Slowly closing the car door, Bane settled back in his seat. "I met a Dartha or two. They're more powerful than any Human sorcerer. This Khang is something new in Midnight War. He could tilt the balance any way he chose."
"And here he comes," Murdock said. "There. Leaving the lobby."
They watched as the towering figure, still bundled in heavy clothing, strode forcefully past the doorman and swung to the right, heading south on Park Avenue. Something about the stiff way he held himself, the high shoulders and swinging arms, showed strong emotion just under the surface.
"I wouldn't care to get in his way," Katherine muttered. "Shall we follow at a prudent distance?"
Murdock said, "Let me trail him unseen. I won't get too close and if you lose him, I can come back to my body and give you directions." With that he went limp again. Bane could have sworn he got a glimpse of a vague semi-transparent shape rising up from William Murdock and drifting away but he decided it must be his imagination. These two psychics were rubbing off on him.
As he started the car up, Bane turned to Katherine. "It's not going to be easy to trail someone who's on foot, Kath. Think you can keep enough contact so we don't lose him?"
"Oh, absolutely." She touched her chin as if reflecting. "I'm not really afraid of Khang. He's awesome the same way as a force of nature is, like a hurricane or an earthquake. But somehow...."
"I'll let him go another block," Bane decided. "Wait. He stopped for something."
As they watched, the silver giant turned around and swung one huge arm as if swatting at something. A visible crackle of energy played around him, startling passers-by and making many stop to gawk. But a second later, Khang started striding quickly away again.
In the Buick, Katherine Wheatley gasped and clutched at her heart. "Jeremy! Will's dead, he killed Will just now?"
"What? Are you sure?" Bane reached in the back seat to find Murdock lying limply with his eyes wide open. The Dire Wolf reached for a pulse but couldn't find one. "That flash of light around Khang... he felt Will's astral self and just burned it away. Come on, West Side Medical Center is just a few block that way." Bane pulled into traffic, cutting off a taxi and getting a loud blast on the horn from the cab but ignoring it. "We can be there in two minutes!"
VI.
William James Murdock was listed as DOA in the Emergency Room, the doctor in charge called it at 9:39. No cause was immediately obvious. Blood work came back with no abnormalities and X-Rays showed no blood clots or sign of strokes. Bane and Katherine waited for a few more hours before being told they could go. There were no signs of foul play and the fact they had brought him here immediately was in their favor also. They signed some forms and went back outside to where Dred's Buick waited in the parking lot.
"Should we phone Mr Dred from here?" Katherine sniffled. She had been on the verge of crying the entire time. She had not known Will Murdock, had only met him less than a day before his death, but she was still strongly moved by it. Her mind had picked up on his being snuffed out like a candle flame and it haunted her because it was so sudden and so final.
"No," Bane said almost inaudibly. "I think I should give him the news personally." He got behind the wheel again and started the Buick up. "I'm not looking forward to it, to be honest."
Katherine began to cry quietly. "He died so suddenly, Jeremy. The silver man felt his presence and just, I don't know--swatted at Will's spirit the way you'd swat a mosquito buzzing around your head. I don't know if he even realized what he was doing."
"If I have anything to say about it, that Khang is going to pay for what he did. What if he had picked up on your mind trying to contact him? What if he blasted at you? Kath, that could be you down there in the... morgue." His voice broke as he spoke.
She gripped his arm tightly. "I appreciate the concern, lad, really I do. And I know it's not easy for you to show any softness like that." She wiped her eyes with the back of a hand. "This Midnight War, it's not a game, is it?"
Bane reached 38th Street, turned onto Lexington Avenue and into the alley where the steel door automatically raised to let them down the ramp. In the small underground garage, he parked the Buick and went with her along the narrow passageway. To one side was the vault, on the other the arsenal. They went up steep concrete steps to emerge through a panel in the back of the closet in the front hall. Lights showed in the open door of the conference room.
Seated behind his desk, Kenneth Dred put down an old-fashioned fountain pen with which he had been working on the TIMES crossword puzzle. As he saw the expression on the faces of his two young proteges, his own face sagged with the sudden understanding. "Something went wrong," he said. "Where's Will?"
Simply and directly, Bane told the old man what had happened. As he spoke and the story sank in, Kenneth Dred seemed to visible shrink a little. He looked down at his folded gnarled hands and did not interrupt with questions.
"I'm sorry, sir," the Dire Wolf said as he finished. "I wish I didn't have to bring you news like this."
"Thank you, Jeremy. I'm glad you told me everything. It's best that way. Poor Will. He never had a really happy life. His experiences in the Army, his divorce... His gift was all he had really, and in the end it finished him. You wonder what it all means. And now this Khang is still out there...."
"Not for long," Bane growled. "I'm going after him. First, a stop in the arsenal in the basement, though."
"Your silver daggers may not be effective," Dred told him. "I get the feeling Khang acted out of ignorance rather than malevolence. He may not be a wholly evil creature. Take some Cyrinkyl, there are two bags of it in the vault."
"If you say so, Mr Dred. I'll be back when it's all settled." He started from the reception room but Katherine quickly rushed to stand beside him.
"It's too dangerous for you, girl," Bane began.
"Oh, really? And how will you find him without telepathy, my dear Dire Wolf?"
He started to argue, then closed his mouth with obvious effort. "You're right. Okay, let's go."
In the doorway, the young telepath glanced back at Kenneth Dred at his desk, trying to give him a bit of encouragement. "Don't worry, sir," she said, "I'll protect him." Despite everything, the blithe optimism of that comment did make him smile.
VII.
At one-twenty that morning, Katherine tugged sharply on Bane's right sleeve and he pulled over at the curb, much too close to a fire hydrant. "He's in that building there," she said. "I'm surprised you can't sense him yourself, he's burning like a torch in the night."
"Yeah? Well, I guess I'm just not psychic," Bane muttered. He stared up at the building from which no light showed, with the windows cracked and boarded over, the bricks crumbling. "I come in when the action starts."
"Jeremy? Be careful. I know you never listen when I tell you that but this is.. special. The silver man is like nothing you've ever tackled before." She shook her head, the black hair swinging, and her voice was uncertain. "He may be too much for any flesh and blood to handle..."
For once, a trace of softness tinged Bane's cold voice. "Thanks, Kath. I appreciate the concern. But this is what I do, I can't change. Better move the car so we don't get a ticket." With that, he slid out from behind the wheel and vanished into the darkness. With a resigned sight, the telepath eased over, put the Buick in gear and pulled out to go up a block where she saw an available spot. She was surprised traffic was so light that night and wondered vaguely if people were subconsciously avoiding the area. She had a feeling Khang's presence was strong enough that average folks could pick up on it and be uneasy.
Blending in with the night in his black outfit, the Dire Wolf saw the Hudson River to his left, almost within diving range. Tenth Avenue, 23rd Street, not the best neighborhood. He had once fought three bikers a few blocks away from here. Circling the condemned building that Katherine had pointed out, he identified the door where the silver man would have used to enter. The broken padlock, dangling on its hasp, was more than clue enough. But where a giant hulk like Khang would enter, Bane saw something better suited for himself. At ground level, a shallow slit of a window opened into a basement. Bane pressed with his palms, popped the pane out and caught it before it could fall inward. He carefully leaned it up against the outer wall, sniffed the mildewed interior of the basement and got down on his stomach. Lean to the point of being gaunt, the Dire Wolf passed easily through the narrow opening and silently dropped onto the dank cement floor within.
In a few seconds, his night vision kicked in. Katherine had teased him about being as much a creature of the night as the monsters they chased, but there was too much truth in that for it to seem funny to Bane. He could see better in gloom than in bright sunlight, for whatever reason. Finding the stairs, he crept silently up through an open door to the main room. Here, vague light from a nearby streetlamp cast two thin bars of illumination into the murk, and here Bane got his first real look at Khang.
Down on one knee, hands flat on the concrete floor, head lowered humbly, the unmoving silver man resembled a burnished statue so exactly that Bane was confused for a second. Without the human clothing, Khang shimmered in the gloom as if reflecting light that was not there. And, as he slowly raised his head, the two rectangular eyeslots glowed vividly from within like searchlights.
Smoothly, easily, the giant rose to his seven foot plus and stood with his back to the watching Dire Wolf. "I know you are there," boomed the bass voice that seemed to come from all directions at the same time. "It is time we met."
"I couldn't agree more," growled Bane as he rushed forward. In one hand, he held a small chamois bag tied with a rawhide cord and in an instant, he flung its contents directly into Khang's face. A brilliant cloud of tiny golden particles swirled around the silver man, clinging and sticking to him. This was Cyrinkyl, the 'stardust' created by the Eldarin as their humane weapon that sapped both physical strength and gralic power to render the most deadly enemy helpless. Khang made an odd strangling noise and reeled back, almost falling as Bane leaped headlong upon him.
A dozen full-power hooking blows rang out like hammers hitting gongs. If he had been barehanded, the Dire Wolf would have broken all the bones in both fists instantly but he had slipped on chain-mail gloves with steel ridges on the outer edges and across the knuckles. He had constructed these combat gloves himself after realizing some of the creatures he was going to be facing. His punches clanged sharply, so close together they sounded like drumming.
But Khang was not harmed. His head did not even twitch from blows that would have killed a horse. Almost at once, he threw off the enervation of the Cyrinkyl and straightened up. Bane went into a frenzy, pummeling the unyielding silver body even faster and harder. Then Khang thrust out an open palm in a shove that threw the Dire Wolf off his feet entirely and skidding onto his back across the floor.
Rolling, getting back up, Bane yanked the combat gloves off. His hands were already starting to swell and throb. Somehow he whipped the silver daggers from their sheaths beneath his sleeves and began to stalk forward menacingly.
Khang held out his hand and a shaft of light brighter than the noon sun shone from it to play across the concrete floor, melting a ditch in it half a foot deep. The smell of hot stone stang his nostrils and Bane blinked as his vision blurred at the glare. He drew back in unaccustomed confusion, lowering the daggers.
"Hear me, Jeremy Bane," came the hollow rumbling voice, "for now I have answers we both have needed. We are not meant to be foes. Behold, I am Khang, servant of Halar-Koth, granted this form and this power by the Higher Ones themselves. Dark times are at hand. I will be needed to protect the Humans of this world, as will you."
"I'm listening," Bane said grudgingly, not fully understanding. "You know you killed William Murdock today, don't you?"
"Yes. It was not intentional. I reacted rashly to a presence I felt and knew nothing about." Khang lowered his shining head again and his wide shoulders slumped. "I have done wrong and I have been assigned penance by the Ones who grant me this life."
"Yeah? Like what, community service will make it better? Murdock is still dead!"
"It is not given to us to return his life," Khang went on. He lifted his huge hand again, but palm up this time in a beseeching gesture. "But these are my words. I will be your ally, Jeremy. Wherever you strive in the Midnight War, whatever enemies you challenge, I will stand with you. This I swear! Will you accept my allegiance?"
For the longest moment of his life, Bane did not respond. Then he let reason and suspicion go by, and acted on a deep-seated instinct he had not felt before. He sheathed the daggers with some difficulty as his hands were stiffening and becoming clumsy. Then he stepped over the still-softened hot trench in the floor and took that huge offered hand in his own.
"It's a deal, Khang," he surprised himself by saying. "May God help us both."
2/25/2015