dochermes

"Slaughterman"

3/22/2009

I.

From the floor in the corner of the living room, Bane watched the crooks as they stood near the windows. He had not really expected them to let any of the hostages go when he had surrendered himself. Half-sitting up, he tested his bonds. He was tied with wet clothesline, both wrists bound together behind him painfully tight. They had yanked off his jacket, removed his pistol and patted him down before tying him up, then forgotten about him.

As soon as their attention was elsewhere, the Dire Wolf carefully got his fingertips at the top of one boot. Years ago, he had started to order his boots handmade, with steel caps on toes and heels, as well as one more item. A ridge at the top of each boot was actually the raised back of a razor blade concealed in a slit. Without moving more than his fingers, Bane drew the blade out and cut through the clothesline. Long hours of practice let him do this without more than a nick or two. The bonds came loose.

One of the bank robbers turned to look at him suspiciously. He had lowered his Glock and held it loosely in one hand. The other one, the more dangerous one with the uneasy eyes, was peering out the window at the police car. There were only two officers and a plainclothesman out there. The robber shifted his grip on the shotgun.

Without any preliminary movements, Bane snapped up off the floor and plunged six feet at the robbers in a split-second. The one with the pistol took a full power backfist that twisted his head around until he looked down past his own shoulder, spinning him to crash to the floor. Sensing the motion behind him, the other robber swiveled, raising his shotgun but it was yanked away from him with a roughness that broke his trigger finger. In the same movement, Bane spun the shotgun in a vertical arc that hammered its barrel to the side of the man's face. That one also fell to the floor like a sack of wet laundry.

Bane put the shotgun far to one side, then lunged to pick up the Glock and also place it far out of reach. The Dire Wolf looked back over one shoulder where the Rourke family huddled terrified on their own couch. "It's all right!" he called loudly to them, speaking slowly to make his point. "They are both knocked out. I took their guns away. It's all over."

Very uncertainly, the father stood up. He was a soft, balding man in shorts and a white polo shirt. "I never saw anything like that. You just... you just rushed them before they could blink." He held out his hand to help his wife up, and the granddaughter had already jumped to her feet. "Who ARE you?"

"I'm nobody special," said Bane. Picking up a cell phone one of the crooks had dropped, he called the number of the plainclothes detective outside. "Lt Montez, it's all over. I'm opening the door. I will be dragging these losers out, tell the officers to hold their fire."

"Gotcha, Bane. Good work," came the gruff voice.

The Dire Wolf paused to retrieve his own pistol from the younger robber before grabbing the man under the arms and hauling him through the doorway. Outside, bright early spring sunlight struck him after being inside the dimly lit home. One cop handcuffed the prisoner, while the other officer came in to help Bane carry the other one outside as well.

"This guy has a dislocated jaw!" one officer said. "Man, they are both out for the count. What did you hit them with?"

"Oh, you know, just training and experience," Bane said, going back in. He retrieved his black sport jacket and tugged it on. "You folks all right?"

Mr Rourke came to shake hands vigorously. "I need to thank you. Anything I have is yours. When those bastards broke in here and held us at gunpoint, I thought we didn't have a chance. We were as good as dead. Then you came in, and they tied you up, and I thought you were a goner, too." He wouldn't let go of Bane's hand. "How can I repay you?"

Embarrassed, Bane disentangled himself. "It's my job," he said. "I don't need any reward." For once, the Dire Wolf decided against asking this man to join his network of observers. He headed out to where the bulk of Lt Joseph Montez loomed over the unconscious robbers. "You read them their rights yet?"

Montez snorted. He had been putting on weight again as trips to the gym had start becoming less frequent and boxes of donuts more so. "They won't be in any condition to listen. You hit them any harder and we would be calling for the coroner, Bane."

"It takes some judgement," Bane admitted. "Well, I guess I will be going about my business. I can come down to 20th Street and file a statement later?"

"No," Montez said. "I need to talk to you. The officers can watch these goons until the ambulance gets here. But even before you turned up, I had something you might be interested in."

"Something weird and gruesome, I expect?"

"Yep. Right up Dire Wolf territory. Listen. Earlier this morning, all LE agencies got a news flash. Up near Cayudoga Lake upstate. Richard Moore Dorsett escaped custody. That's right, Slaughterman."

Bane turned and looked at Montez with a new alertness. "Well. I didn't think I would hear that name again. Last I knew, he was in Federal custody and so-called experts were studying him."

"Cutting him up and watching him heal in seconds, more like it. I got rumors. Dorsett is a freak of some kind. You put a bullet in his chest, it pops out again an hour later. He got run over by a freaking Dodge pick-up and he sat up and started chasing it. I heard of people with good healing but that's crazy. And... I thought maybe you had some inside dope."

"Oh yes." Bane got closer and lowered his voice, which made Montez uneasy. "I tangled with Slaughterman twice, back in the old days. He regenerates, all right. By now, his powers must be weakening, though."

"You can tell me, Bane, How does it work? How can he heal up bullet holes and grow new skin after being set on fire?"

The Dire Wolf took a deep breath. "This is one of the things I know that you will find hard to believe, lieutenant. All the biologists they call in will never figure out Slaughterman, because he doesn't work by the laws of nature. He runs on gralic magick, based on a Darthan spell. That's right, when he kills somebody, he sucks in some of their lifefore and uses it to keep himself going. In a way, he's a vampire."

"Goddam. I used to laugh at stuff like that. But you know, I keep seeing things and learning things. Instead of drinking blood, he takes what? Vitality?"

"Exactly," Bane said. "It's been years since he has been in custody. His lifeforce must be getting low. My bet is that he made this break because it's his last chance."

"And you... you're going after him?"

"I am," said Bane emphatically. "Right away."

"Let me give you a lift. You heading back to your office?"

"Yes. Thank you." The two men walked over to Montez' unmarked car. "You remember Samhain?" asked Bane.

"Oh Christ protect us, how could I forget that devil? You brought in him a few times, too, didn't ya."

"And Seneca. They all had that same healing factor, based on stolen lifeforce. Samhain was the worst because he was intelligent and cunning. He would have been a serial killer even without his powers. Seneca, on the other hand, was just a beast. He didn't know why he was killing, he just did it."

As he navigated traffic with the ease of long practice, Lt Montez said, "Klein was right about you. Just before he retired, he told me you was like a guard dog protecting a bunch of sheep from predators they didn't even know about."

The faintest of smiles turned up the corners of Bane's thin lips. "Good old Harold Klein. He didn't trust me at first, even tried running me in a few times. It took years before he agreed we should work together."

"Same here. I'll tell you the truth, the boys at NYPD all say to never mention this in public, that it's all unofficial and off the records, but they told me when I transferred here that you should be called in for crimes too bizarre or unexplainable for the regular force to handle."

"It's what I do. It's my nature, can't change." At a red light, Bane opened the door. "I'll get out here, lieutenant. Thanks. I'll report as soon as things are settled." With that, the Dire Wolf stepped out and hopped up on the curb. 58th Street. He began moving fast, crossing over a few blocks. There was his bank. Going in, Bane asked to see his safe deposit box. A chunky young woman in a black and white striped dress let him into the vault and opened the compartment where he kept a wide flat metal box. She left him alone in a tiny cubicle. Bane spun two combination dials on the metal box and opened it. Some interesting items were in here. A tiny gold skull, a stone arrowhead, two green stars made of soft stone, a chamois bag full of cyrinkyl, some legal papers, a few keys. There was a bundle of fifty and twenty dollar bills. And the Eldar travel crystal.

Bane regarded it somberly. This was a relic of his earlier career with the KDF. It was a pale blue faceted gem, just small enough to fit within one hand, set in a pale gold frame. There were only eleven of these in the real world, as far as he knew, and he had seldom used this one since he had stepped down as KDF Director and re-opened his own PI agency. With a barely audible sigh, he closed off memories and slipped the crystal into the side pocket of his jacket. He locked the box and had the bank officer return it to its compartment, then went back on the street. Walking briskly, he got to 44th Street and 3rd Avenue quicker than he would have done in a car. Here was the small yellow brick building. He hurried through the lobby, down the short hall that ended in an EXIT ONLY alarmed door, and unlocked the plain wooden door that had a brass plate reading DIRE WOLF AGENCY.

Thumbing on the overhead lights, Bane went through the tiny waiting room to his office. At his desk, he checked for messages. Quite a few but nothing urgent. So far, he had managed to keep his office from getting too cluttered. There was the big oak desk with its reading lamp, a few plain wooden chairs scattered in front of it. To his right, facing 3rd Avenue, a leather sofa sat under the wide window with opaque curtains. There was a short endtable with a lamp at each end of the couch; the lamps did not quite match, but he had never gotten around to replacing them. In the far left corner, a door opened to a tiny compartment with a toilet and sink but no shower.

Bane had added a three shelf bookcase on the wall facing his desk, now starting to fill up with newspapers, clippings, general debris he threw there. The Dire Wolf unlocked hidden wheels on the bookcase and spun it away to reveal a compartment sunk into the ground. When he left this office, he expected he would have to pay a hefty fine for some of the unauthorized changes he had made, including this hiding place. Bane tugged up a trunk, carried it over and dropped it in the center of the room. Sudden excitement made his heart beat faster. He hadn't used this gear in too long a time.

Bane stripped off his outer clothes. He was already wearing a bodysuit of flexible grey metal which looked like wet silk with a faint sheen. He seldom went anywhere without this armor. The Trom-metal was not invincible but it gave good protection up to high-power rifle slugs. He drew on tough black pants with a number of flap pockets, then a black crewneck shirt of the same durable material. Under the sleeves, he fastened the sheaths of the silver-bladed daggers he had used his entire career. They had been a gift from Kenneth Dred, and Bane would have held on to them no matter what else he had to give up in life. He fixed straps to the ensalir setting on the Eldar travel crystal and tied it securely high on his back, between his shoulder blades. Then came a black waist-length jacket of a tough leathery material, also fitted with several flap pouches and inner pockets.

Digging through the trunk, Bane began stowing odd equipment in various pockets. Some was conventional, like a small first aid kit in a plastic box or a multiple-bladed tool knife, but most had been handcrafted for his use years ago. From a padded setting in the trunk, he took out an air gun with an extended barrel. For decades, he had used anesthetic darts in this to take enemies alive, but now he slid a clip of resonance caps in and clicked it shut. He buckled the gunbelt so the holster would be behind his left hip, hidden by the jacket.

Finally, Bane raised what looked like a black motorcycle helmet and lowered it over his head. It connected to the high collar of the jacket. He lowered the visor and saw the read-outs start on the heads-up display. Perfect. He knew Leonard Slade had guaranteed the Trom power source had an active usefulness longer than Bane's own life would be, but it was reassuring to check. The Dire Wolf slid up the visor again to its track inside the helmet. He felt good wearing the field suit. It brought back many memories and wearing it gave him a thrill of anticipation. Moving quicker than ever, he returned the trunk to its hiding place and swiveled the bookcase over it.

Now to see if he could see use the Eldar crystal. With it fastened to his back, since he was already in contact and did not need to place his fingers on it. Bane half-closed his eyes and visualized where he wanted to be. It was not enough to half-heartedly wish to gate, you had to put full-out will power into the effort. Bane concentrated hard. There came a silent flare of pale blue light and, when it faded, the office was empty.

( the rest of the story )

"The Wind Between the Gravestones"


8/2019

I.

At ten after four, the doorbell rang. Timothy Limbo put down his half-eaten superthick BLT on its plate, then decided to hide it in as drawer of Sable's desk before hurrying from the office. No visitors were expected that day. He was wearing his usual outfit of biker boots, jeans and a well-worn leather jacket over a plain white T-shirt.

At the inner front door, Tim pressed the button that opened the street door and admitted people into the tiny foyer. Through the intercom, he said, "Please come in, I'll be with you in a second." Then he slid open a wooden panel on the wall at face level to reveal a monitor screen and control panel. Buzzes and clicks sounded as the Trom sensors analyzed the visitor to microscopic detail far better than any MRI available to Human tech could match. No ID came back from NYPD, FBI, Mandate or CIA files which the KDF accessed quite without authorization. In another second, the DMV records came through, matching the man's appearance with a New York driver's license. Foster J. Whitcomb, born 1/22/1993. Six feet tall, one hundred and eighty pounds, brown hair and eyes.

The most important fact of course was that Whitcomb was not carrying any guns or knives or other signficant weapons. Chemical signature
showed no poisons or explosives. Glancing at the man visually on the monitor, Timothy saw a rather friendly-looking fellow with a pleasant face under shaggy light brown hair. Whtcomb was solidly built, a little soft around the thick middle, wearing a basic dark maeoon polo shirt and black jeans. He was looking curiously at the oil painting of Kenneth Dred that hung in the foyer.

Timothy instinctively liked the visitor on sight. He opened the inner door and said, "Hi there. Can I help you?"

"Oh, I hope so," replied a mellow voice with a faint Midewest accent. "You're with the Kenneth Dred Foundation? You investigate paranormal sightings, ghosts, Bigfoot, that sort of thing?"

"Yep, among other things."

Whitcomb extended his hand and Timothy took it in a warm dry handshake. "My name is Foster Whitcomb, I've run a blogcast for the past few years, THE WIND BETWEEN THE GRAVESTONES. Mostly spooky real-life stories people send in, some interviews with guests, a few trips to haunted location like the stone tower outside Salem."

"Oh, sure," Tim replied. "I've seen quite a few espisodes. No wonder you looked familiar. I liked your Halloweeen show where you talekd to people who had seen Gator Joe."

"I think my podcast stands out because we're skeptical. We don't play up sightings for more than they're worth and also we're right to the point. I'm a debunker by nature, which makes my experience so surprising."

"Come on in and tell me about it." Timothy stepped to one side and ushered his visitor into the office across the hall to their left. This was a comfortable uncluttered room marked most notably by the solid oak desk against one wall under a hand-painted map of the world as it had been in 1937. Timothy gestured for Waruck to have a seat on the brown leather couch. He himself pulled over a plain straightbacked wooden chair to face his guest.

"I've heard a lot of wild stories about your Foundation, the KDF. Very little in newspapers or TV, though, almost all word of mouth. The famous Dire Wolf himself, Jeremy Bane, was the founder. Lots of tales of chasing Skinwalkers and Trolls, even vampires and werewolves, over the past forty years."

"We've had some interesting cases," Timothy said. "But, to be honest, we're like you in that nearly everything we look into turns out to be nothing provable. What's this experience that happened to you?"

Whitcomb leaned forward, clasping his hands on his knees, and looked direcrtly into Tim's eyes. "I've seen, well, a ghost. Three times. A small girl about ten years old, wearing an old-fashioned white nightshirt. She's soaking wet. Water drips off her. She never says anything, just raises a finger side to side in a warning gesture and then she disappears."

"Oh, that's interesting. In all our years, the KDF hasn't found a verifiable ghost appearance yet. Any physical evidence?"

"There was a damp spot on the floor, not nearly what you'd expect from the way she wadripping. And I kept my phone ready to record after the first sighting. She didn't show up at all."

"Hmm," Timothy said non-commitedly. "What does drowning mean to you? Did you ever have a close call, even a child? Do you have a boat or canoe or something?"

"No, nothing like that. I've done some swimming at Big Deep, but never got in trouble. I think it's a warning. Tonight, I have tickets for a Hudson River Cruise. It's a two hour trip from Kingston to Hyde Park and back."

Timothy sat up straigher. His mop of yellow hair had grown long enough to get in his eyes and he had to brush it back with his fingers. "Cruise along the Hudson River, huh? And this ghost girl might be warning you not to go?"

"Could be. If this sightings happened to someone else, I'd investigate without any hesitation but I'm kind of freaked out by my own involvement."

"Yeah, I can see that. I know the area, by the way. I'm from Tilson, New York, not far from Kingston. For whatever reason, there's a lot of Midnight War activity in that part of the Hudson Valley. Woodstock in particular. I'm taking this seriously, Foster. I think it deserves to be looked into."

"Oh, I'm so relieved. You guys are genuine experts, I'm sort of a poser dabbling. Listen. I intend to go on that cruise tonight. I have two tickets but my roommate bailed on me, he's working a part time job after his regular job. How would you feel about coming with me to keep an eye out for ghosts?"

Timothy didn't have to think it over. He felt so comfortable with this guy, it was as if they had known each other for years. "Sounds good, Foster. A slow cruise up and down the Hudson, great scenery, lighthouses and mansions. A couple of beers."

"Did I mention they have a 1950s band? They do the Breakers, Rex Royal, some Peter Coebett..."

"Oh, now I'm going no matter what. I was born to be a JD 50s greaser. What time do we leave?"

"Hmm. It's four-thirty now, say a little over two hours drive. We'd have time to eat. There's some nice Italian restaurants on the Strand."

"This gets better and better. It sounds the best agenda I could set up if I was taking a date."

Foster laughed unselfconsciously. "It's our date then. My SUV is parked three blocks away on Lexington. I'm dressing casually, what you have on is fine."

"Good to know. I do want to grab my travel knapsack, there's some KDF gear stowed away in there. Oh, and I should leave a message for my captain. Sable likes to know our general whereabouts." Tim plucked a flat metal device from his belt and spoke briefly into it.

"Dude, what kind of phone is that? It's so thin you could slide it under a door. Japanese?"

Tim shrugged instead of answering. "We don't get paid much but the KDF does give us somr great toys. I'll be back in a second. Maybe you want to check out our fish tank. A starfish with a single red eye isn't something you see every day."

Racing down to the basement and along the walkway to the garage, Timothy felt a little surprised he was so excited about this excursion. Had he been that bored at being stuck at headquarters on semi-monitor duty until Sable came back in a few hours? Whatever. He snatched up the sturdy knapsack from the row of travel bags all the KDF members kept ready. Personal items like shampoo, toothbrushes and washclothes were a small percentage of the contents. Tim's anesthetic dart gun was in there, along with a couple thousand in tens and twentys, a medical kit, various miniature smoke bombs, oxygen membranes, a silk climbing cord and other specialized gear.

Emerging back into the office, he found Foster engrossed in the strange creatures from Ulgor who populated the fish tank. The podcaster turned with both eyebrows raised. "Am I imagining it or have this hermit crabs built a tunnel in the sand between their two coral castles?"

"They're funny little creatures, all right," Timothy said as he shrugged into the straps of the knapsack. "Ready when you are."

"Great. It's a beautiful day for a drive up the Taconic Parkway."

( the rest of the story )

"Not the Punster Again!"

3/23-3/25/2012

I.

Sheng honestly could not tell what Uncle Pao had simmering in the battered old saucepan which sat on the hot plate in a corner of the office. The stuff looked like brown and red mush to him, with a few separate strands of what might have been snow peas hours ago. Taking the ladle from beside the pan, Sheng stirred the mixture and found a definite fish head at the bottom. The clouded white eye stared up accusingly at him.

"Ha HAH! The aroma of genuine food is tempting, is it not?" came the high excited voice. At his desk, set at a right angle from Sheng's own, Uncle Pao was rustling copies of the Chinese-language WORLD JOURNAL more loudly than seemed necessary. "We will drive the vile Mr Reuben from your guts tonight!"

Well over seventy, Uncle Pao was thin to the point of seeming fragile. As usual, he was wearing black slacks and a seriously wrinkled white dress shirt but his concession to the chill of a late March night was a red cardigan twice as large as would have fit him. Pao's eyes could not be seen behind eyeglass lenses thick enough to have started a fire if held up to sunlight at the right angle. His pure white hair stuck up at various angles as if he had washed it and let it dry without ever considering a comb.

"Nothing wrong with eating a Reuben once in a while," Sheng answered patiently. "One great thing about this city is that you can get food from any culture on Earth here."

Heading back to his own desk, Sheng settled into his chair and thumbed through the disappointing collection of mail from the past few days. In contrast to Uncle Pao, Sheng dressed well. Tonight he was wearing a tailored dark blue suit complete with vest, yellow shirt and narrow black tie.

Only five feet five but athletic and muscular in build, Sheng Mo-Yuan seemed Chinese to most people. He had the skin tones, the double eyelid fold, the coarse black hair. But something about his high sharp cheekbones and beaked nose hinted at his real origins. It was no use explaining to Uncle Pao about Chujir, the realm from which the ancestors of the Han people had come thirty thousand year ago. Pao's mind clamped down on conclusions and never budged once he had decided on something. To him, Sheng WAS both Chinese and his nephew, and nothing would convince him otherwise. The coincidence of their family names being the same was all old Sheng Pao-Wang needed.

"Uncle, the landlord has warned us again about cooking in the office...." Sheng began but he was cut off.

"Ah. I knew it," cackled the old man. "Here, in this story on page six about the potholes causing accidents on Mulberry Street. Read between the lines, nephew. Grow wise. The hint is here that the Winter Snow is active again."

"Winter Snow? I thought they moved to California years ago," Sheng said.

"Not so. Not so. There are clues hidden in these mundane items about City water bills and rising school taxes. I can tell." Uncle Pao made a horrendous racket straightening out of the newspaper and folding it up. "And one MORE thing. If Winter Snow is making its presence known, the Black Mantis will challenge them as they did before. There is bad blood between their sifus."

Before Sheng could come out with his intended remark of how caring about feuds between martial arts schools didn't pay his bills, there was a knock on the office door. He jumped up, but to his dismay Uncle Pao was much closer and had already greeted their visitor.

"It is middle of night, young lady," barked Pao with a complete lack of welcome. "Your need must be urgent to drive you out into the dark streets!"

Their visitor appeared to be no more than twenty, and the outfit of snug jeans, black print blouse and maroon warm-up jacket added to that impression. In white letters across the back of the jacket was written SWATHMORE. The girl was tall at five feet ten, slim and rangy in the way of someone who has not completely finished growing yet. She had long curly black hair and huge dark eyes, with a cleft round chin that gave her face an individual look.

"Sorry?" she said, confused by Uncle Pao's greeting. "Ummm, isn't this a detective agency? The FIST FOR HIRE that I've read about in the papers?"

Sheng hurried to interpose himself between the girl and Uncle Pao. "Hello. Come right in, please. Yes, you've come to the right place. I'm Sheng Mo-Yuan, licensed PI and this is my uncle who helps out around the place."

"Oh, good," she breathed in relief and allowed herself to be escorted to a plain wooden chair in front of Sheng's desk. To her right and slightly behind her sat Uncle Pao at his own cluttered desk. This arrangement allowed Pao to watch visitors and to give Sheng his reactions by making various disgusted faces. The clients in turn had to swivel their heads to see Pao, which gave Sheng an instant to hide things or think things over.

"It feels funny coming here at two in the morning," she said. "But your listing said you're open from Midnight to Nine AM and I could see you moving around in the window when I got out of the taxi, so...."

Putting on a slightly deeper professional voice, Sheng told her, "We found that most of our clients are in the must urgent trouble overnight, so we set up a nocturnal agency. How about telling me who you are and what brings you here?"

"Okay. I'm Agita, Agita DeLeonibus. Well, my real name is Sophie but my family calls me Agita and that's how everyone knows me. I am not in trouble myself. It's my brother Carmine, he's three year older and lately he's been doing odd jobs that he won't explain...."

From behind Agita, Uncle Pao made a remark in Cantonese to the effect that you can tell women are lying because sound comes out of their mouths. The girl gave him a confused look, and Sheng intervened.

"Never mind him, he's a little cranky tonight. Please, go on," he said.

"Carmine is not a bad boy, but he IS easily tempted by quick money. He's had a few close calls with the law. Lately, he has been coming and going at all hours. And he started buying new games cartridges. Whenever my brother flaunts lots of cash, I know he's heading for trouble." She dug in her coat pocket and handed Sheng a scrap of paper. "I err found this when I was trying against all odds to straighten out his room. Here."


As Uncle Pao scuttled over to look over his shoulder, Sheng examined the note with a sinking feeling. Not again. It was a simple yellow Post-It slip, with words printed in simple block letters: DROPS ON BLADES and under that, THE PUNSTER.

( the rest of the story )

"Spring Break At Skull Beach"

3/23/2023

I.

In a long career fighting the Midnight War, Jeremy Bane had seldom felt more uncomfortable or out of place. He stood next to a portable kiosk selling dismal junk food like questionable hot dogs, lukewarm soda and limp French fries in cardboard holders. Swarming energetically all over the white sand beach were hundreds of giddy young people ranging from eighteen to twenty-two, most wearing as little clothing as possible, nearly all of them saturated with alcohol and an assortment of recreational drugs. Hormones were boiling over.

It was seventy-eight degrees this last week of March, but dry and breezy and much more comfortable than he had expected. He was wearing his inevitable outfit of black slacks, turtleneck and sports jacket, practically his trademark. Sixty-five but looking twenty years younger, the Dire Wolf had some white flecks in his short black hair but few other signs of age. He was visibly trim and fit, moving with ease. To his surprise, many of the college girls showed obvious interest in him. Some stared with a smile, some stole glances but many seemed drawn to him. If he had been interested, he undoubtedly would have done well picking one or two up.

The idea didn't even occur to him. He was all business. This was Plata Playa, "silver beach" so named because of the way its white sands looked in the moonlight. But in the history of gruesome crime, it was often known as Skull Beach. He was here in hopes of preventing another massacre of innocents. Although, gazing out over this frenzied crowd, it seemed unlikely any creature of the night would have room to strike. Maybe the omens would prove false.

There was Hallowell House, half a mile up the beach, surrounded by broken rock and withered grass. A one-room shack of plain unpainted boards with a single door and two windows no larger than a magazine. The slate roof was sagging at one end, but it did not seem to be in immediate dangerous of collapse. Circling the shack was a chest-high chain link fence with a padlocked gate. As far as he knew, that gate had not been opened once since it had been installed thirty-one years earlier... when early morning strollers had found the white skull of Lorraine Hallowell sitting by the front door.

His stomach rumbled audibly. One price for his enhanced speed was a metabolism that burned through calories without mercy. Bane looked over the food for sale. He was not fussy but even so, the offerings weren't appealing. He settled on two film-wrapped ham and cheese sandwiches, a big bag of cashews and a bottle of water. The extortionate prices didn't surprise him. Going back to surveying the mob, the Dire Wolf devoured everything so fast he hardly tasted it and dropped the wrappers in an open metal garbage can close at hand.

An absolutely gorgeous co-ed grinned at him. She was wearing cut-off jeans and an open vest held closed by one button. Between the firm young body shining with health and the lightly freckled face under a mane of thick black hair, she was almost unbearably attractive. "Hiya, did you see the Spook Sisters?"

That caught even Bane by surprise. "No. The Spook Sisters are here? Where are they?"

"They've got a table over there, by the trees. Come on, let's go check 'em out." She took Bane by the arm, deliberately pressing one breast against him. "My name's Gretchen, I'm only here for three days before I have to go back to Buffalo. What's your name?"

"Jeremy. Jeremy Bane, from Manhattan. I shouldn't be surprised the Spook Sisters turn up here, this beach is supposed to be haunted."

"Yeah, haunted by broken hearts and brief romances," she laughed. "I like older men. Guys my age are so dopey, I want someone who has lived life a little."

The Dire Wolf seemed completely uninterested in her, scanning the beach instead as if expecting an ambush. "I understand the sisters investigate weird events. Ghosts, strange animal sightings, mysterious disappearances."

"Yeah, they're unironically hilarious. I love the younger sister Alistar, she never listens to anyone and always torments the bigger sister. Emmaline's funny too in her own way, very sarcastic. But to be honest, if you expect anything really scary, you're out of luck. They never find any genuine phenomena."

"Just as well," Bane said. As single-minded and repressed as he was, the young woman pressing up against him and gazing up warmly made him uneasy. He decided to add, "From what I can see, they aren't equipped to handle anything dangerous."

Stretching up as she walked, Gretchen asked, "What color are your eyes anyway? Blue? Very light blue, almost like silver?"

"Grey. It looks as if the Spook Sisters have gathered some fans."

Seated on lawn chairs at a folding card table were two young women in matching outfits of white shorts and red cotton shirts tied across the midriff. They were surrounded by more than a dozen excited followers who were all talking over each other. With Gretchen still hanging on him, the Dire Wolf watched and reviewed what he knew about them.

Gossip is rampant in the Midnight War, even about those only peripherally involved. He knew the two Spook Sisters were from Albania but had become naturalized US citizens. They had become huge Twitch stars and YouTube celebrities, with an estimated combined worth of three million dollars. The taller one, with a thick ponytail which reached her shoulders, was Emmaline. The shorter, more animated sister was Alistar. They were famous for their constant trashtalking of each other and for the random daredevil stunts they staged. Recently they had been raising money to support a rescue animal sanctuary.

None of this particularly interested Bane. He was annoyed by the Spook Sisters because they rushed to the scene of any paranormal reports, where they walked around and streamed their opinions. He felt that they both scared away any Midnight War creatures and trampled over any evidence he might find. There was also the chance that they might encounter a Skinwalker or Troll and their careers would end abruptly as they were killed and eaten.
And now they were here, at the infamous Skull Beach at the same time he was. It was no coincidence.

Gently but firmly, he disengaged himself from the girl's grip. "I think I'd better talk to them, away from everyone else. They're heading for danger. Thank you, Gretchen." And he stepped away.

To his surprise, those huge brown eyes filled with tears. "What? That's it? I.. I am right here, almost putting myself on a plate as an offer and all you can say is 'thank you, go away?'"

Although he wasn't good at being gentle or putting kindness in his voice, the Dire Wolf tried. "I'm here on business. Very serious. I'm sorry."

Gretchen gave him a caustic glare, spun on her heel and stormed off stiff-legged. I'm really out of my element, Bane thought, I don't know how to deal with normal civilian Humans anymore. Then he heard a hoarse woman's voice calling to him from the Spook Sisters' table, "Oh My Godddd, look! Look, Emmaline, that has to be Jeremy Bane! You know, the Dire Wolf?"

II.

A dozen baffled young faces twisted around to stare at him with no recognition whatsoever. That suited him fine. Staying as unknown to the public as possible was vital to his survival, and he was not pleased at having both his real name and his war name shouted out like that. He stepped forward.

Both of the Spook Sisters had jumped to their feet and were beckoning him closer. "Hi, hi, hi! We're in the same line of work, we know all about you!" gushed the younger one Alistar. "You're a legend, absolute legend, your statue is in our hypothetical Monster Buster Hall of Fame."

"You are Jeremy Bane, right?" asked the older Emmaline with more restraint. "We've never actually met. Photos of you are hard to find."

"Hello," Bane replied without enthusiasm. "You're the Spook Sisters. Emmaline and Alistar Dibra."

"That's us, three million followers and merchandise available.."

She was cut off by her litle sister bouncing up and down in glee. "I can't believe it, I can't believe it, this is so great! The legend come to life. You know what they say: When you see a werewolf running for its life, Jeremy Bane is chasing it."

"Wait a minute..." began Bane but caught himself as he realized how big the crowd was, and how many eyes were fixated on him. "I want to speak privately with one or both of you."

Alistar rattled off a long laugh, "You and a hundred other guys here! EVERYone wants to get one or both of us off out of sight for a little 'talk.' Kidding, kidding, but holup I can see you're serious, you look like a judge about to read a verdict, not that I have ever been in a situation where I faced a judge..."

"Stop. Just stop," broke in Emmaline. "Honestly, the doctors say she doesn't have ADHD but I've seen her get distracted lighting a match. Mr Bane, please excuse her. I will go with you away from everyone and you can tell me what you want."

While Alistar slapped the table and announced that she would autograph any body parts not covered by a bathing suit, the older sister beckoned for Bane to follow her toward a garish bright green SUV parked up by the highway. By the time they got there, the few curious fans had dropped away. Emmaline leaned up against her car, fished a pack of American Spirit from a hip pocket and lit one up.
"We did recognize you right away. I never thought I'd meet you."

Decades of experience and Kumundu training made it automatic for Bane to assess this women in great detail. From body language and micro-expressions and subvocal tremors, he concluded she was not under any unusual stress. She was not intending to lie or deceive. From the way she walked and how she placed her weight, he decided she had not had training in any martial art or even street fighting. In a more general sense, Bane analyzed her appearance. Emmaline Dibra was in above average health but had a slightly diminished lung capacity for her age. There were signs she drank to the borderline of alcoholism. And she had injured her right knee recently, no more than a week earlier.

All this came to him in almost instantly. When he decided she was no significant threat either physically or psychologically, he relaxed in her presence as much as he was able to. "I'm not much for Twitter or Facebook or any of that, but I've heard of you and Alistar."

"Yeah, you don't have any online presence. That's odd. You could be pulling in serious money with a little exposure."

"Miss Dibra..."

"Please, call me Emmaline. That's what Alastir and I were wondering about you. You've been at this forever, but everyone says you don't charge fees and you don't ask for donations. How the hell do you make a living at this game?"

She looked up straight into Bane's pale grey eyes and felt a slight shiver at the impact those eyes held. Her cigarette burned unnoticed between her fingers as she started to wonder about this man.

"Emmaline, then. We are not in the same business. You provide entertainment for your fans. You walk around a darkened house or graveyard and they get a cheap thrill at the trappings of horror. But there's never anything actually supernatural there. It's a fun little game."

"Well, of course," she snorted. "What else could it be?"

The Dire Wolf took his eyes off her and looked back of that Springbreakers on the beach. He folded his arms across his chest. "That's fine. I'm not going to try to convince you differently. The less you know about the Midnight War, the safer you are. Think about this. You know there are groups of brutal, heartless people in the world who use torture and murder as basic tools. The drug cartels, espionage organizations, human traffickers. If some of them hauled you off in a black van, you'd never be seen again. Am I right?"

"Well...yeah. I don't like to think about that stuff. But what's that have to do with our game?"

"I'm not part of your game. I'm from a different, secret underworld that exists unseen all around you. I deal with threats like those killers from drug cartels or spy agencies, only more dangerous. That's why I want to warn you and your sister not to stay in Hallowell House tonight."

That made Emmalina snicker, then snort, then surrender to a full blown guffaw. "Heh. Give me a second. Oh come on, Jeremy. You put on a good act but let's be serious. Alistar and I will make enough tonight for a cruise around the Aegean. I've always wanted to see Greece. Don't try to scare me off. Man..."

Bane did not visibly react and his voice remained detached. "All I can do is warn you. Your safety is your own business."

III.

Defying all forecasts, cold rain had begun coming down at eleven that night. The beach had emptied, with scattered blankets, hats and frisbees left as prints of the partiers. An attempt at building a bonfire had gotten nowhere against the drizzle. Only thirty people remained, gathered not down by the water but up by Hallowell House.

Huddled under umbrellas and blankets draped over their heads, diehard Spook Sisters fans watched as Alistar and Emmaline held up their Iphones and recorded the scene. They had not brought their usual equipment or assistant. Two uniformed police officers had been watching for a while but had been called away to more crucial duties. There didn't seem to be any impending trouble here tonight and the rain had driven the Springbreakers to invade local bars.

Off to one side, his collar up but otherwise unmoved by the chill drizzle, Jeremy Bane watched unhappily. He had seldom felt more conflicted. Those two young women, unarmed and untrained, were going into Hallowell House in a minute to dare any forces of darkness. Normally, he would dismiss this as mere show business but a nagging sense of alarm troubled him. He had learned to trust his instincts.

The Spook Sisters were sharing a clear plastic umbrella and, as seemed constant with them, were arguing. "I'm so wet I might as well just lie in down in the rain and get it over with," Alistar griped. "This is like the day you didn't pick me up at school, remember? Seven years old, standing in the downpour and shivering for HOURS because you forgot all about me, I stood there and watched the bus pull away but did I get on? NO! Because I trusted my big sister to come get me..."

"Alistar! You know the car wouldn't start and I couldn't even text you because you had left your kid phone on the breakfast table again." Emmaline caught herself and turned back to the crowd, holding up a sheet of paper safe within a sealed plastic envelope. "Friends, I have here written permission from Mr and Mrs Francis Gwynneford to enter the property as they will. In return, they have asked that we donate all of tonight's donations to their chosen charity, the St Theresa Home for Children. Can we all agree that's a worthy cause?"

Amid the enthusiastic cheers from the crowd, Alistar could be heard muttering, "Minus our expenses for this trip, that hotel room cost as much as a good used car."

Keeping out of everyone's line of sight, Bane unclipped the Link from his belt. The Trom device looked like a remarkably thin phone no thicker than a few playing cards stacked together but it was decades advanced of anything Human technology could match. He found the Spook Sisters' livestream. Bane was not interested in social media but he had to know how to navigate for his work. Sound came in clear and sharp through the inconspicious flesh-colored earpiece he tucked in.

Glancing from the screen over at the front of the shack, the Dire Wolf frowned even more than his usual sour expression. Two dozen excited fans were yelling questions and encouragement. For all they knew, this was going to be like taking a tour of an amusement park haunted house. He prayed that would be all it was, but he didn't have much hope.

The younger sister placed one hand on the padlock holding the gate shut and held up two keys on a red cord. "They trusted me with the keys because Emmy loses everything, when she gets old and gets dementia, no one will be able to tell, one time she called me to say she couldn't find her phone and I was like dude, how are you calling me and she goes oh yeah.."

"Do you need help unlocking that, dear one?"

Managing to get the gate open, Alistar started ranting into her phone, "There you are, the first time anyone has been in this yard for thirty-one years, yes that was when someone going for a walk at dawn saw a humanskull sitting at the door of this hut, yes! A human skull. All that was over found of Lorraine Halloewell, that poor woman, and after the police were done poking around, her family locked everything up and swore to leave it untouched until it fell down. But we are here! Tonight! And your favorite ghostbreakers the Spook Sisters will show you inside..."

Interrupting her younger sister once again, Emmaline said, "That is why this area is known to locals as Skull Beach, as I'm sure all you lovers of unsolved mysteries know. Over the years, people on this beach have reported seeing a flicker of eerie blue light in the windows of Hallowell House or heard a woman's scream echoing out over the waters. Yet it's obvious even from outside the gate that the seal on the door has not been broken and the windows do not open."

"Will you PLEASE let me finish?"

"I would if you ever did finish," snapped Emmaline. "Let's get the door open while it's still nighttime."

Not amused in the slightest by the banter, Jeremy Bane watched the scene with cold rain dripping down his face. He was so annoyed by the Spook Sisters that the temptation came to him he should leave them to their choice. He had a comfortable warm dry hotel suite waiting a hundred yards away. But no. All his instincts told him the Midnight War was stirring tonight.

Alistar unlocked the front door and pulled it open. "Listen to those hinges creak, very atmospheric I'm sure, got your giant Maglite ready?"

"All set," replied Emmaline. The two sisters stepped through the doorway and those outside watching caught a glimpse of the interior. Without warning, a gale-force blast of cold wind rushed over the area to make everyone shudder violently. And the wind slammed the door shut again.

Bane could hear fans saying how that wind couldn't have been faked and maybe this time the Spook Sisters were going to encounter the genuine Unknown. He thought the same. The prospect didn't excite him as it did the crowd. He was ready to intervene.

On the livestream, hundreds of thousands of people worldwide saw the long-hidden inside of the Hallowell House as the brilliant beam of the flashlight moved over simple furniture covered with decades of dust. There were framed photos on the walls, a small black and white TV on a stand, a single shelf with a handful of paperbacks. Cobwebs stretched across the corners of the room. There did not seem to have been running water, as no sink or toilet was in evidence but a gas stove showed that propane had been in use.

"I don't mind admitting I'm getting the creeps big time," Alistar rattled off in her usual flow of chatter. "This place smells dead, it's like when we had a mouse die in the walls, remember? Nothing covered up that smell, what did that woman die off anyway, what happened to her body and how come only her skull was left outside, I dunno Emmaline, do you feel like someone is in here with us..."

"Hush for a minute, just one minute," pleaded her older sister. "I think I hear someone breathing."

As she said that, her flashlight flickered and went out.

IV.

The crowd outside the shack took a collective gasp but then fell silent. On their screens, they saw the faces of the Spook Sisters as the two young women turned on the flash of their phones in near panic. But the relief of the fans was brief. The livestream started to break up, both image and sound became dim.

"Do you see those faces?" demaded Alistar, "There! And there! They're laughing at us, Emmaline, the faces are all around, they've getting closer..."

At the edge of the crowd outside, Bane snapped off his Link and clipped it back on his belt. The silver daggers sheathed to his forearms under his sleeves had been growing warm and now they were so hot they stung. Malicious gralic energy was nearby. There was no reason to wait any longer.

"Emmaline, Emmaline, my phone went dead! Where are you?" screamed Alistar.

The Dire Wolf shoved roughly through the crowd and through the open gate. He planted his feet, drew torque up through his body into a blow from his open palm that snapped the lock on the front door and he dove inside. A second later, a great gout of black smoke shot out from that open doorway to dissipate in the rain. Then Bane emerged with an arm around each of the Spook Sisters, still gripping a silver dagger in each hand.

The three of them tumbled to the dried dead grass in the yard outside the shack. Steam rose from their bodies as if they had been yanked out of a furnace. The agitated fans rushed over to kneel beside them, all talking over each other.

Bane recovered instantly, up on his knees and then leaping to his feet. He sheathed his daggers with trembling hands, but then pointed at a nearby boy. "You! Call 911 right now, get an ambulance here." He had found that giving orders to an individual produced better results than just a general demand.

"It's not possible, I know that this doesn't happen because hair grows out from the roots and it can't change color like that..." Alistar was whimpering.

"This is not a natural phenomenon," Bane replied as he turned Emmaline over as gently as he could. She was in shock, her eyes did not focus on anything and she was shaking visibly. The long thick hair was white as cotton.

2/23/2023

"The Steel Breeze"

12/14/2021


I.

"You've been awful quiet, even for you," Unicorn prompted. She tagged her turn signal and swung up the ramp of Exit 24. Ahead was the row of brightly lit New York State Thruway toll booths. Slowing to a reasonable speed for the first time in three hours, Unicorn reached with her right hand to open the center console where a tangle off assorted bills were kept. "Oh heck, what a mess, count out eleven dollars, okay?"

Next to the little blonde, Carlo Ventura complied and put a ten and a single in her hand. Since accepting the Eyeless Helmet, he had steadily lost weight but now seemed stable at one hundred and fifty pounds. Not quite six feet tall, he seemed thin but not dangerously so. The white cotton shirt and trousers showed lean muscle but not bones and his ribs were not prominent. As Ashley handed over her ticket and cash, giving the attendant a gorgeous smile as if it were a present, Carlo exhaled. "Sable didn't give us much of a briefing. All she said was that there had been two beheading in the area around Shenandago and they seemed to be unrelated. And we have an observer to contact, whoever Diamond Joe might be."

"I don't think she has more info to give," Unicorn shrugged. "Certainly she would have called us during this epic drive if she had." A minute later, the maroon Toyota Matrix merged onto a highway marked Route 22, which had sparse traffic on an eleven o'clock Tuesday night. At forty, Ashley Whitaker looked much younger, with only the faintest lines at the corner of her crystal blue eyes. The long platinum hair hanging down past her shoulders had always been so fair as to seem silvery, so going grey would not be a problem for her.

"Megan has been messing with this car's onboard computer again!" the Unicorn grumbled. "The screen not only shows where we are on the map, that other green blip shows the location of Piper's house AND it gives our ETA to the second. It tells us how near or how far we are from it to an inch. And I didn't ask for any of that information. Drat. Never mind that. Spill it, Carlo, tell me what's on your mind."

"It's hard to explain," Carlo hesitated. "Remember when you were young? When you grew to be a little taller or a little stronger, you could do things you weren't capable of before. I remember the first time I could stretch up and reach the ceiling in our house. So proud!"

"Sure. Go on."

"I feel like that now. Only it's not physical but, well, spiritual. Or maybe extrrasensory. The helmet's effect has really kicked in on me. Even when I'm not wearing it, I'm more aware of stuff happening, even when it's out of sight. I can tell what people are doing when they're in another room, I can feel when someone is lying, I can find objects that have been hidden. It's weird."

Unicorn let an almost inaudible chuckle escape her. "Sounds great to me, Carlo. That's what you were told would happen if you kept Sagehelm."

"Yeah. True enough. But I wish Nebel had stuck around to give me some more training. He took off after telling me the barest minimum. I can't figure out why! Did you know him?"

"Garrison Nebel? Not really." The little blonde glanced down at the dashboard screen. "Eight minutes to go. Nah, I met him a few times at our headquarters building but we never did much more than say hello. He wasn't exactly friendly."

Carlo reached behind him and retrieved a canvas satchel from the back seat. It held a roughly spherical object slightly larger than his own head. "Nebel was a legend in the Midnight War. Imthril, the Sorcerer of Truth. When I hear about what he did, I don't see how I can ever lived up to him. I feel trapped by expectations."

"Now, don't play martyr. You've saved our team a few times already. You're not meant to be a hand to hand fighter or someone who carries lightning in her chest like Jocelyn. You're a mystic, a seer of visions. When people feel threatened by shadows at night, you shine. That's your purpose."

"I wish I was as confident as you are," he said. "You're always so sure of yourself."

"You bet. Don't get me started on my upbringing, because once I get talking about it, I won't stop. My mom was the first Unicorn and she started raising me to take her place as soon as I could walk. On my sixteenth birthday, she gave me the horn for my own and shoved me right into the Midnight War. Sheesh. I went from being a kid to a famous adventurer just like that, caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom." She laughed again. "Not that I didn't love it!"

"I feel better talking about this," Carlo admitted. "I'm such a noob. You've all been in the Midnight War for so long."

"Hah! Don't rub it in. I was your age when you were born. But anyway. This is serious. The Teachers at Tel Shai think you're the right person to carry that helmet. Sable thinks so, Jeremy thinks so and I think so. And I'm a pretttty good judge of character."

Carlo did not respond further. He undid the thongs holding the satchel shut and drew out a gleaming helmet cast in one piece of a metal that gleamed the palest gold possible. It would cover the entire head, and the face had no eye openings... only etched outlines of where those openings would be.

"Why don't you wear it all the time?" she asked. "I mean, not in supermarkets or on the street of course. But on the ride up here, you could have been meditating and becoming one with the universal life force or whatever it is you do."

"I don't want to lose who I am." Carlo replaced the helmet into the satchel but kept it on his lap.

II.

They turned off on to Dutch Town Road, where there were no stores or commercial buildings found. Residential houses stood widely separated by long stretches of forest. To their right, a creek glittered when their headlights caught its surface.

"I wish we knew more about this guy, Diamond Joe. According to Sable, he was never a big player in the Midnight War. Kind of a shady character, sometimes recovering lost talismans, running errands, sometimes helping out when Jeremy had his Dire Wolf Agency running. He was out for cash in the hand, sorry to say. Jeremy said the guy could be useful as long as you didn't need to trust him."

Carlo Ventura took so long to respond that Ashley yelped, "Hey! You fall asleep, buddy? Maybe we should have brought a thermos of coffee."

"My perception stirs. The ancient winds of trouble blow and our names are in the night air."

"uh-Oh! When you get all poetic like that, I know Hell is about to break loose. You can tell we're heading into what, a trap?"

"Yes. A mind both cruel and eager waits for us to be foolish. We are targets for faraway laughter, but that mind does not know we are walking forward with open eyes."

Ashley snorted with glee rather than uneasiness. "Great. I'm armed like a SWAT team right now, and of course my Unicorn horn is right behind me in the back seat. And you have got your amazing helmet right in your lap. That cruel and eager mind should be afraid of US!"

"I did bring one of the anesthetic dart guns," Carlo added. "It's under my seat but I feel it will not be needed. My purpose is not to have used such weapons. I will have brought the holy light of Elvedal into darkness, I will have shone like the sun through black holes in the sky."

Despite herself, Unicorn laughed. "I really like when you talk that way, Carlo. Sometimes I feel like I should write your phrases down. Oh. There it is, that gravel road heading up the hill." She made a hard left, slowing down to a reasonable speed when forced to do so, and thumped up an incline between walls of beech and maple trees on either side.

At the end of the gravel stood a plain one-story house of white planks, with a black slate roof, holding no more than six rooms. Parking near the front door was a Nissan Sentra at least a dozen years old with some scratches and dents to boast of its survival. One window was lit, but heavy curtains showed no more than the dim beige rectangle. Ashley swung the KDF Toyota around so it would be ready for an instant getaway, a habit she had developed from bitter experience.

"Ya know, I'm about as psychic as a turnip," she admitted. "But for some reason, I've got the creeps big time."

"Your instincts serve you well, Ashley. This man is not a schemer but a prisoner. Another stranger far worse awaits us behind that door." Carlo slid out of the passenger door and stood up, reaching back into the satchel to extract a bundle of heavy gold silk which he fastened with a clasp around his neck. A cloak dropped down to ankle length, its material woven with fine strands of Enalsir, the silver blessed by the immortal Eldarin themselves. Then he lowered the Eyeless Helmet down over his head and, as he did so, a flare of rich golden light played over it as if reflecting a faraway sun.

Seeing him prepare this way, Unicorn's alertness jumped up to its fullest. She knew Carlo did not don that cloak unless the danger was imminent and life-threatening. Inside her own waist-length jacket were a dozen small weapons and gadgets concealed in their pockets, the needle-barreled dart gun was holstered across the small of her back. Ashley drew her own unique talisman from the back seat and strapped it across her narrow back.

Tightly wrapped in a conical white leather sheath, this was an actual horn of a Unicorn from Okali, tapering three feet long from its pointed end to the silver cap on its flat end. Ashley had no extra-human abilities herself. It was the power of the Horn to remove gralic force from an area that qualified her for membership in the KDF and as a knight of Tel Shai.

"I'm all worked up already, Carlo," she said barely above a whisper. "Let's straighten out the creatures of the night and teach 'em who is at the top of the supernatural food chain, namely us."

The blank eyeless plate of that helmet swung to regard her and Carlo's voice was hollow and sepulchral now. "We face the Steel Breeze, and lives will end tonight."

As he spoke those last ominous words, the front door to the cottage swung outward and a man brandishing a curved narrow-bladed sword strode toward them.


III.

Stopping well out of arm's reach, the man twirled his weapon in an elaborate figure 8 and lowered his point. "Honor demands that I give you a chance to surrender your valuables," he said in an odd, vaguely musical accent. Wearing mundane black slacks and light blue dress shirt with the cuffs rolled back, he was not himself an unusual figure. The black hair was cropped short over a long narrow face with regular features. Dark deepset eyes were watchful but the thin curled in an arrogant smile.

"Allow me to present myself," he continued, "Zhal Murakami of the Murakami Clan, third from the throne of Chyl. Of course, I know who you two are, I waited months until I could be sure that you two would come to answer Diamond's request."

"You're not from Chyl," scoffed Unicorn, showing no signs of being intimidated. "I was there when I was ten years old. You've got a nose, your ears aren't pointed, your skin isn't orange-brown. You're just another Human."

"A Human captive raised from the cradle in Chyl," came the reply, "A Human taught to swing a sword while learning to walk. I am a greater Zoku-Ya than any noseless Chylan. I had to prove myself and I did."

"You seek to claim our talismans," Carlo Ventura broken in quietly. "Sagehelm and the Unicorn Horn will never be yours, Murakami. You might as well cry for the Moon as to demand our sigils."

"But first, where's Diamond Joe Piper?" demanded Ashley in a very different tone from the one she had used when bantering with her teammate.

The swordsman grinned and took another step forward. "Beyond the pains and cares of this world. This is Steel Breeze. The craftsmen of Chyl make the finest blades in all the adjacent realms and the Steel Breeze stands above them all. Claiming it was the first step in my campaign. With its edge, I shall take the Horn and the Helmet for my own. With them, I will seize still more of the great talismans. The Sceptre? Brightbolt? Who knows, the Armor of Hell itself. I will assemble every potent talisman until I can dare challenge the Halarim themselves."

"Your grasp is not firm enough to close around such mysteries," Carlo said from behind the golden helmet. "You reached for the secrets too soon and you will be left with less than what you began with."

Murakami leaned back, placing his weight on his rear leg, drawing the Steel Breeze up to point forward. He laughed. "I know all about you two. Your powers cannot harm me. I have no gralic abilities, so the Unicorn Horn won't affect me. And the Eldar helmet? Its light undoes malevolent spells and heals the damaged. But I am what I am supposed to be! Neither of you can affect me."

For a tiny blue-eyed blonde, Ashley Whitaker certainly could put confident menace in her voice. "You still face two knights of Tel Shai. We are Masters of Kumundu. Hah! Now there's a look in your eyes that wasn't there a second ago."

"Stay where you are," Murakami warned. "Your heads will spin away if you get near me."

Faint gleams of golden light played over the Eyeless Helmet, Carlo's voice seemed to echo from far away. "Every soul deceives itself in many ways. Few can face their own weaknesses and failures. I am a miner of truth and delusion, my friend. Be exposed in the Light of Elvedal and grow wise."

The entire world seemed to flare up the palest gold imaginable, blotting out all vision, leaving no room for shadows, and a rushing roar as of a great river sounded. It died down almost instantly, but the night felt different, clearer, fresher.

Ashley Whitaker struggled to make sense of her sensations and realized she was sitting up on the cold gravel. No spots danced before her eyes as lesser radiance would leave. For a second, she made incoherent noise, then cleared her throat and managed, "GodDAM,
Carlo. That was like an afterlife experience. Shine on, you crazy fool."

Faint tendrils of steam rose from the Eyeless Helmet as Carlo pulled it up off his head. His curly hair was damp with sweat. "It would have done no good to look away or to cover your eyes, my friend. The Light which shines on Elvedal would show through your hands as if they were glass."

"I feel okay. I guess. A little mopey. But look what that blast did to him."

Crawling feebly on hands and knees, Murakami mumbled and muttered with his head hanging down. "I proved myself to the Warlords. I did! I am the equal of any noseless Zoku-Ya, no one can deny that. I ran the gantlet, I climbed the barbed rope, I did all that was required."

"Take what comfort you can," Carlo told him gently. "Bask in the shadows of yesterday's triumphs, your future is a short one."

Ashley had quickly picked up the sword Steel Breeze and made sure she kept it far out of his reach. "I need to check on Diamond Joe," she said as she spun toward where the front door still hung open.

"I'll be joining you there," said Carlo, tucking the helmet under one arm and letting the heavy cloak fall over to conceal his body. He was watching as Zhal Murakami began to recover from the enlightening. "Your eyesight is clearing now. Breathe slowly."

As his vision focused and he saw Carlo clearly, the swordsman recoiled and scuttled back out of reach. "I...I had no idea what you are weilding. I thought of the helmet as just another weapon. I was a fool. I have no words for what that Light means."

"I am sorry only that you might not have glimpsed the light sooner," Carlo told him. "No, don't try to get up. Your legs will not hold you."

Still holding the Steel Breeze in one hand, Unicorn stepped quickly through the door and toward them. "The best I can say is that he died quickly. One clean stroke right through the vertebra. I placed Diamond Joe's head back on his neck the best I could."

"Is this guilt? Is this what guilt feels like? Don't give me any more, please, it's like a heavy weight."

"Oh, I'll pile on many more layers. You deserve it. I saw the walker by his chair, he was an old man and you didn't have to kill him. And I read the police reports about the decapitated couple down by Lake Mewaska. You were having fun, weren't you? Testing out your Steel Breeze!"

"Ashley," said Carlo, "this isn't like you."

"So what! I'm pissed off and with good reason. Look, Murakami, you're a renegade from your realm. What Chyl calls a Stray Dog. Right now, nobody knows where you are. My partner and I can easily make you disappear. We should."

She glanced over at Carlo. "You don't have to talk me out of it. I'm not going to execute this guy. I wouldn't actually go through with it. We'll do what we usually do with ravers like him, we'll send him back to Chyl."

"The Emperor's edicts are clear about harming Humans in our world," Carlo agreed. "He will be executed by rope."

The platinum hair shone like silver in the light from the cottage as she turned her head to gaze back at the open door. "I didn't touch anything. We'll tip off Department 21 Black and they'll close the case. Okay, Stray Dog, on your feet. Hands behind your back, here go the cuffs. We're taking you to our base. From there, you'll be sent back to Chyl."

Meekly, head hanging down, the Stray Dog allowed himself to escorted over to where the Toyota waited. The whole clash had only taken a few minutes. "I accept my fate," he said. "I see my errors now. The light cleared my mind."

As Carlo secured Murakami in the back seat with the new ankle straps, Ashley brought the Steel Breeze to place in the trunk. She didn't know why she felt so depressed, usually the end of a case found her triumphant and proud of herself. Not this time. Unicorn hefted the sword thoughtfully before tying it down next to the tool box. "You wore out your welcome in our world," she grumbled at the blade. "But I guess it's not your fault, you're only a piece of metal."

Locking their prisoner in, Carlo came around to join her. "I'll drive on the way back, Ashley."

"Hmm? No, thanks anyway. I'll drive. It'll keep my mind occupied."

3/24/2022

TIGER NATION II

2/9/2022

I.

"I'm scared, I don't have a problem admitting it," Timothy Limbo said. Still watching the row of monitor screens and status lights, he pushed the collective/cyclic stick forward and brought the CORBY up to four hundred miles per hour. "Maybe I shouldn't have watched those videos of tigers leaping up fifteen feet in the air with no trouble. Or that one where a tiger catches up to a car going forty."

Next to him in the co-pilot seat, Jocelyn sounded more tired than anything else. "You've seen my Red Spectre, Tim. She is living lightning. She is faster than anything of flesh and blood and she can blast through granite."

"Yeah. That's true, and I'm glad you're paired up with me, to be honest. My caspers are great for searching and spying and stuff, but not much use against Tigermen." In the subdued light of the CORBY cabin, Timothy's face looked as exhausted as his teammate's voice sounded. His bright yellow hair had finally been trimmed by a professional barber, it no longer hung down over his forehead almost in his eyes. "Having you and your Spectre with me is a big comfort."

"I've got your back, my friend." In the years she had lived in New York, Jocelyn Garimara's accent had eroded so much that someone meeting her would not immediately know she was Australian from her voice. But the rich dark brown skin, straight black hair and distinctive facial bone structure made it clear she was Aboriginal, from the Northwest. Timothy was not a big man, a few inches under six feet and lanky but she was small as well. Both were wearing the KDF field suits with the layer of silk-thin armor and tiny weapons and gadgets in numerous pockets. She went on, "I never trusted anyone until I met our team."

"This is awful. My heart has broken in half. I'm still having trouble processing what happened but instead of having time to think, here we are chasing monsters again. How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," she replied. "It happened. We lost Megan. Maybe it's better to keep busy now. We certainly should concentrate on what we're doing for our own sakes."

"Yeah. Looks like another three or four minutes before we need to find a touchdown. I'm sure no one will be ready for us. Sensors aren't picking up any radar within miles, we're in a black stealth copter with no external lights flying through a moonless night. And the CORBYs don't make any more noise than a stiff breeze passing by."

Jocelyn took a moment before venturing, "Do you ever get tired of this, Tim? It feels like we've been fighting the Midnight War all our lives. We were barely adults when we started. I'm not sure I want to do this forever."

"No, I haven't felt like that. Not yet. But I'll tell you the truth, I'd rather be doing more research and rescues than fighting." He turned his head for a second and saw she was watching him thoughtfully. "Anyway, right now we don't have a choice. Those monsters are out there. They'll keep killing innocent people until we stop them. So they don't have a choice, either."

"I know. They're like animals, not good or bad, they act the way they're born to act. I've been given my Red Spectre, you've been given your caspers. I think we've been made special for a reason. We can save a lot of lives tonight, how can we turn away?"

"Yeah, I'm not arguing with that. We do have an obligation. Okay, I'm slowing down and descending. Night vision screens are working great but all I see are miles of trees. We need a clearing in the next few miles. See anything?"

"Not yet. Shogren's cabin is almost within sight, maybe we should circle a little... Hey! On your nine o'clock, there's a spot."

"Great, I'm bringing us down now." The CORBY touched down so gently that no impact at all could be felt, and as the rotors slowed, the Trom-built impulse engines reduced even their whisper to silence. Tim checked the status lights one last time, then the cabin went black as he shut the stealth copter down. Through the windscreen, not even starlight could be seen on this overcast night.

Jocelyn unbuckled the restraint straps from around her waist and across her chest. "We're suited up. All we need to put on is our helmets and gloves."

"We'll be glad to have these suits tonight. It's twelve degrees out there."

"You and your Fahrenheit," she said, lowering her helmet down and tightening the seal where it attached to her suit's high collar. Her voice came clearly through a speaker in the chinbar, "America's a civilized country except for its dumb measurements."

They got out, sliding their hatches shut, and the CORBY automatically locked itself and armed its alarm systems. Timothy held up an individually crafted handgun with a barrel thicker than normal, clicked its mechanism and holstered it again at his right thigh. "No dart guns this time. I'm not counting on anesthetic darts against people with tiger DNA, hell no. They'd be done eating me before the drug put them to sleep."

Jocelyn placed a hand on her friend's shoulder and squeezed. "We're heading north northwest, this way. Come on, Tim. We're doing what Megan would have wanted us to continue doing." She sat out with a brisk stride and he followed without hesitation.

That trek was little more than a mile and nothing unusual happened, but it was nightmarish for both of them. Grief and lack of sleep left them not at their best. Bane's description of the Tigerman he had faced had been terrifying in itself, but the reports of another savage killing in this area by one of these monsters made it worse. An experienced hunter with a Marlin in his hands had been ripped open. If an alert man holding a rifle didn't deter these Tigermen, then normal unsuspecting Humans would be completely helpless prey.

Making as little noise as possible, relying on the light enhancers in their helmets' visors, Jocelyn and Timothy covered ground quickly. Their nerves were raw. Even the slightest sound from the forest around them made both swing around with hands dropping to clutch their weapons. A brisk wind had picked up, howling through tree branches with no leaves to soften its whine. Even though they were both warm and comfortable in their field suits, they frequently shivered anyway.

Walking up an elevation that made jogging difficult, they slowed to a walk and finally peered out between a clump of birch. Ahead, on a hill from which the trees and brush had been cleared, sat a simple one-story cabin of redwood planks. The single window showed yellow light. They could make out a generator beside the humble structure, black smoke drifting in the wind away from a stovepipe chimney. Next to the cabin sat three all terrain vehicles.

As they studied the scene, from around them came the snapping sounds of things deliberately making noise. Timothy and Jocelyn pressed their backs together, turning in a circle, hardly breathing.

A low, mocking voice said, "Looks like a feast tonight."

II.

Years of Kumundu training failed Jocelyn and Timothy that night. The deepest, most primitive fears overwhelmed them. It was instincts older and stronger than martial arts or civilization itself, instincts from dim ages when their tiny primate ancestors ran shrieking from gigantic predators. Every nerve pulled at them to run as fast as they possibly could.

But the two Tel Shai knights stood where they were and showed none of this.

Moving out between the widely spaced trees, four men in dark clothing stalked in at them, encircling them. With their light enhancers, Timothy and Jocelyn could see that these Tigermen remained mostly Human normal except for the fangs and claws where their teeth and fingenails had been. The way they moved so lightly on their toes, slightly crouched, shoulders up, was inevitably suggestive of cats moving in on prey.

The fifth man was different, walking in a Human manner, holding a 12 gauge pump action shotgun with both barrels aimed squarely at the two prisoners. "Keep quiet," he warned. "Not another house for ten miles around, no one to hear you scream."

Surprising everyone, Jocelyn placed both hands on her narrow hips and calmly asked, "Is Baron Shogren up there?"

"Har! What do you care? You're gonna be dinner in a minute."

One of the Tigermen rumbled deep in his chest. "I smell fear but not enough. What's going on?"

"We have an offer for the Baron. Serious money from a group that wants to back him. You've heard of STIGMA, right?" Jocelyn said.

"He's not here, no matter what offer you got," scoffed the shotgun man. "He's in Florida and by the time we could reach him, these boys will be cracking your bones for the marrow."

"They can try," was her answer. From inside her torso, a shimmering crimson outline of a woman's form lifted up into the night. Crackling, surrounded by an aura that made its details indistinct, the Red Spectre hovered at head height. Faced with something they could not understand, the Tigermen cringed back as they would from a raging fire.

The normal one yelled, "I was told all about you!" and let loose both barrels of the shotgun right at Jocelyn's chest. At pointblank range, that storm of pellets would have shredded an unprotected person. Her Trom armor under the field suit dissipated most of the impact but nothing is completely effective. The air was driven out of her lungs with a gush and she fell backwards without trying to catch herself.

The Red Spectre seemed to resist being drawn back to her. Despite its flailing, the weird apparition flashed backwards to merge into Jocelyn's limp form.

Pumping the action on his shotgun, the Human menace started to say something but there was the sharp crack of a pistol immediately followed by a deeper boom as the man's body flew apart in gouts of blood and flesh. Timothy whirled, firing three more times as quickly as he could. Three more explosions thundered in the woods. The Tigermen were blown into bits before they could realize what was happening. Timothy had brought one of the KDF concussion guns, intended for actual all-out combat, and each resonance cap was more devastating than a grenade.

He managed to get three of the monsters before the fourth Tigerman sprang fifteen feet through the air and pounced down upon him with all its weight. Timothy had happened to have his gun hand raised when he was slammed down to the ground. The creature's jaws gaped wide and clamped down on Timothy's forearm with force that would bite cleanly through a bare arm. Even with the protection of the Trom armor layer under his sleeve, Timothy screamed as the bone broke.

The gun had fallen from his hand. There was no hope of reaching it, and he was pinned down in a way that prevented him from reaching his survival knife or other weapons. Timothy couldn't draw his legs up under him or wriggle loose. Panic ran cold through his chest. Even if this monster couldn't bite through the armor, those fangs and claws could do enough internal damage to kill him in a few seconds.

Red lightning blinded him. A fierce sizzling rang in his ears as Timothy suddenly felt the crushing weight lift off him. He took deep, shuddering breaths. The Tigerman slumped to one side with a trench seared through the torso that made the corpse fall into unequal halves. Gulping for air, his right arm dangling in horrible pain, Timothy scrambled to his feet and looked for his partner.

"Jocelyn! Jocelyn, are you okay?" he yelled but could hardly hear his own voice. Even with his helmet dampening loud noises, those explosions a few seconds earlier had left his ears ringing.

"I'm all right. I'm all right. Just.. got the wind knocked out of me. Damn, Tim, you sure blew them away. Not enough left to dress up for the wake, as we say."

Despite everything, he laughed at that. "Ow, ow. I'm pretty sure my right arm is broken. Our healing factor should get rid of the pain in a few minutes."

"I'll make a sling. Here's someone's shirt sleeve with not much blood on it. Hold still." She fashioned a workable sling and tied it up behind his neck. "Will you hold STILL! Stop wriggling."

"I guess my arm will heal in a few hours. That's the norm for us, but if the bones are misaligned, they'll seal up that way."

"Can't be helped right now, mate. If that happens, you'll need a little surgery and get a day or two off. Right now, we have to search that cabin and the vehicles."

Tim grunted and let his arm relax, feeling the sling hold it securely. "Good work with this thing. Yeah, you're right. We need as much information as we can find up there. How many of these creatures are there? Where are they? We might be taking that place apart all night."

"First, let me tell the others what happened. The man with the gun mentioned Florida, that might be exactly what our team needs to know." She twisted the left earpod on her helmet two clicks counter-clockwise. "Hello. Sable? We're both fine but we have a lot to report..."

III.

When the segmented roof panel slid open, freezing night air poured down into the tenth floor hangar. Sable's black hair whipped around and she shivered, but it would only be for a moment. Behind her, Ashley and Sheng stood unaffected because their field suits had an internal power source that kept them heated and comfortable.

Weirdly silent even at such close range, the dark stealthcopter CORBY II descended to touch down with gentle precision in the marked off circle on the floor. The top rotors slowed to a halt and the right front hatch slid open.

Stepping down from the pilot seat, Josef Jubilec crouch-walked over to where his teammates waited. "She's ready for action, captain," the Blind Archer said.

"Good work, Josef," replied Sable. "Thanks for going to Hawk Island and bringing it here. I can't remember when we last had both CORBYs in use."

"There's still the third one at the HCE Project. I contacted Stephen earlier to see if he was working on her and he guaranteed that copter can be wheels up in ten minutes. He also said he's standing by to bring her in and he'll be ready himself for anything we want him to do."

Sable nodded, untensing as the roof closed up again and the hangar returned to normal room temperature. "I don't know if that will be necessary. Jocelyn and Tim should be back with the other CORBY in an hour. If we have it here, Unicorn and Sheng will have to return this one to the island and then drive back down from Maine. There's barely enough room here for one CORBY at a time."

"We'll see what happens," Josef said. "I'm ready to go with them right now."

"No. I want you here in case we find another pack of these Tigermen. I'm still searching for where Baron Shogren has his hideouts. It's taking me forever. I can't simply hack into DMV and power company records as easy as Megan could. I'm not as smart as she was."

From behind her, Sheng Mo-Yuan said, "None of us are. We're doing the best we can with what we have."

Ashley Whitaker, the second Unicorn, chipped in, "You're dealt your cards and you play the game. That's what my mom used to say."

Sable jerked a thumb toward the door behind her. "You're off duty for four hours, Josef. I'd like you to nab some sleep. None of us have been getting as much as we should the past few days."

The Blind Archer's normally terse voice had softened as he went toward the door. "I'll be ready when you need me."

When he had gone from the hangar, Unicorn said quietly, "I've never seen him so gentle. He's trying to be supportive, captain."

"I know, I know. Josef has feelings, he was brought up not to show them but he's as hurt by Megan's death as the rest of us. Back to business. We have our hands full and we need to concentrate on our mission no mattrr what."

The Unicorn's perfect little face revealed more exhaustion than it ever had before. Dark circles under the crystal blue eyes showed she had not applied even her minimal make-up that day. Yet her voice remained firm and clear. "You don't have to remind us, Sable. I believe in what we do! Being Tel Shai knights is an honor and a duty."

Next to her, Sheng had lowered his helmet over his head, leaving the visor up. To most people, the Chujiran seemed to be Northern Chinese but that beaked eagle nose suggested his true origins. "We've got the co-ordinates of Shogren's facility," he said. "I'm going Mach-plus as soon as we're high enough, we should be there by dawn."

"All right. I'll be here, tracking down more leads. Jeremy is going through his own sources. He promised to contact us if he found anything instead of going after it on his own. But you know how he is."

Heading for the pilot side of the stealthcopter, Ashley scoffed. "Dire Wolf! If you ask me, he should really be called Lone Wolf." She hopped up lightly into the seat and raised one gloved hand toward Sable in a sort of salute, two fingers up by her temple. Beside her, Sheng got in from the other side.

"Good luck," Sable called as the rotors began to turn again. "Be careful." Overhead, the steel roof panels rolled open and a gust of subzero wind rushed in. The black helicopter shot straight up more quickly and silently than anything made by Human technology could match. Sable watched it go, finally allowing her face to lose some of its stoical strength now that no one was there to see her doubts and worry. "Please be careful."

IV.

As they shot up to twenty thousand feet, Ashley helped Sheng by watching all the monitor screens and gauges. The interior of the cabin was illuminated by dozens of blue and green lit dials. Any one of them going red would have stood out dramatically. "Radar realignment working fine," she said. "Although, to be honest, what would really happen if anyone picked us up? A tiny blip for a few seconds before vanishing? Any air traffic controller would shrug it off."

"Good to be careful anyways," Sheng replied. "Okay, we're accelerating to just under Mach-One. Still can't feel any shuddering but in a minute we'll be able to crack the barrier and really travel."

"These are amazing aircraft, all right. Mom gave me some lessons in a Bell she leased and they're incredibly hard to fly. You have to worry about fuel, which you don't with a CORBY, you have to watch oil pressure and engine temp and a dozen other things while you're also balancing lift and thrust to keep the bird from crashing. It's nerve-wracking and I have iron nerves of course."

"Yeah." Sheng hesitated before adding, "I wonder if the Trom will send one of themselves to do maintenance on these?"

"I dunno. I hate to think about it. Megan used to spend two days a week servicing the CORBYs and our Links and all our other equipment. I guess Jeremy or Sable will be working out a new arrangement with those guys. Bunch of cold-hearted emotionless geniuses!"

"We're speeding up now. Rotors are locked and Trom impulse engines cranked up. Hitting the resistance. There! We're through."

"I hardly felt anything," the little blonde said. "These things are basically spaceships disguised as helicopters. Hey, Sheng, I wanted to ask you. Remember when you fought that Turner guy who turned into a tiger?"

"As if I'd forget. Cirkoth watch over me! He wasn't like these monsters, he physically went full tiger. Nine feet long. he tossed me around like a stuffed toy. My Argent powers weren't much help. I can tell you, I'm not exactly excited to be faced an unknown number of Tigermen." Sheng made a disgusted noise.

"Huh. And I don't think my Horn will be any help either. Sure, it removes gralic abilities from anything from werewolves to Dragons to sorcerers. But these critters don't have any gralic force in them. I came packing serious weaponry this time."

Sheng checked a monitor screen. "ETA is one hour, eleven minutes to Florida itself but then we have to go into the Everglades, so who knows how long the whole trip will take. I figure we'll finding Baron Shogren's headquarters around two this morning."

"You know what's weird? I had a favorite Mad Scientist bad guy. I thought Cogitus was hilarious. He had a head like a watermelon long side up, and he wore mechanized exoskeleton armor because he was so damn old he wouldn't be able to hold his head up without it."

"I remember him. His real name was Sinclair."

"Well, I always laughed at the way he insulted everybody. He didn't even know he was doing it. Everytime he opened his mouth, he said how smart he was and how we were barely better than trained monkeys. After awhile, I almost looked forward to listening to him."

Sheng glanced over at his friend. "You're ODD, Ashley, but in a good way. He was trying to kill us, when he wasn't unleashing a horde of Insectoids or trying to keep brains alive in fish tanks."

"Oh, sure. He was still funny, though. Maybe being raised to be an action girl by my mom left me with a strange sense of humor. Listen, don't you think we should have had a service for Megan?"

"I'd have liked that," Sheng responded more somberly. "Back in Chujir, we had two days of fasting when a family member died, everyone got to say something about them, then we all got drunk on rice wine and hugged each other."

"We need something. We need closure." Unicorn pulled her helmet up and hung it on a hook on the back of her seat. Pulled up in a bun, the silver-blonde hair shone in the subdued cabin light. "I know her will said she didn't want any ceremony. She didn't believe in rituals or holidays or even birthdays. I know she's already been cremated and her urn will be buried by Archie's parents when the ground softens up. Where's that again?"

"St Anne's Church, up by Albany."

"Yeah, that's it. I think we need to all go up there and say goodbye. Otherwise, I dunno, we'll never feel like we were respectful enough. And another thing, don't you think Archie's taking it well?"

"He IS," Sheng agreed. "I mean, you can see he's crushed but he has been coming over to our headquarters building and working on Tim's motorcycle or our cars every day. I guess he wants to be doing something useful."

Ashley leaned over toward her teammate. "Don't tell anyone, but I'm glad he's acting like that. I expected him to blame us! I seriously thought he would hate all of us for getting her into danger."

"Guess not. He knew she loved this life. Listen, Ash, you sound like you're ready to drop."

"Yeah. I guess I'll stretch out in the back compartment and take a nap." She punched him lightly on the bicep. "I couldn't be any safer than being in this bird and having you nearby."

After she had unbuckled the restraint straps and wriggled through the clear divider panel into the rear compartment, Sheng Mo-Yuan exhaled sadly and patched into their satellite channels. He found some soft music he liked, something called post-rock, and settled down for the flight.

He didn't miss Chujir any more. Actually, he had lived in Manhattan longer than he had lived back in his home realm. His family there were only some uncles and aunts he barely knew, he had not had many friends in his village but he did like to visit Sifu Tang once in a while. Tang Ming, once a Tel Shai knight and KDF member herself. If not for her, he would never have known about the real world, let alone dared to live in it. He should go home soon and visit her, bring some gifts from so-called civilization.

There was Uncle Pao to think about, too. The old man had been very fond of Megan Salenger, one of the few white people he ever warmed up to. Sheng had often wondered why, but then who could explain why some people got along better than others? Uncle stayed at Sheng's office on Canal Street so much he was practically living there. Before he visited Sifu Tang, Sheng thought he should take Uncle Pao on a little vacation. Going to Arizona in the middle of winter should please the old Chinese. They had thought of each other as uncle and nephew for so long that either would have been startled at being reminded that they were no blood relation at all.

Sheng blinked as he realized they were on the edge of the Everglades. He had sunk deeper in thought than he had realized. The chronometer told him they had been in the air for an hour and a half. The Chujiran throttled down, eased the CORBY down below the speed of sound so he could engage the rotors again.

"Ashley! Hey blondie, we're almost there," he called over his shoulder.

The Unicorn mumbled something that sounded like, "Come on Cory, five more minutes, okay?" She could be heard yawning, getting up and climbing back into the cabin. "Drat, I was out like nobody's business. Some strange dream about climbing trees in the rain, I remember that much. Let me get strapped in."

"That's Highway 88 below us," Sheng said. "I haven't seen a car for the past twenty miles. This is really isolated territory. There! That house there up its little side road, that's on the co-ordinates Sable turned up."

Peering down through the windscreen, Unicorn wrinkled her nose. "Imagine living there. Almost an hour to the nearest store. Who the heck built that house in the first place?"

Instead of answering, Sheng said, "I'm going to swing around again. Do me a favor and use thermal imaging and neural scans. See if anything living is down there."

"I'm on it. Nah. Nothing. Maybe a few mice that are too small to detect."

"Really? That's disappointing. Oh well, we better search anyway. There could be useful information about these Tigermen. That area behind the house looks big enough for the CORBY and the trees say it's solid enough to land on."

"Go for it, Sheng. We must be crazy, you know? We're feeling let down that there isn't a pack of extremely dangerous bloodthirsty half-Human half=tiger monsters for us to fight."

"Landing gear down. Descending," Sheng said. "Here we go. Yeah, when you put it that way, it's funny. But we'll be looking for these creatures until we find them. Touch down, we're good." He began slowing the rotors, and switching off various functions.

Ashley opened the hatch to her left but, before exiting the copter, she held up a handcrafted pistol with an unusually thick barrel. "Our strongest resonance caps. You can blow up an engine block with these shells. Believe me, I'm keeping it ready until we're back in the air again."

V.

When they met by the CORBY's nose, Sheng had fastened his own helmet on but had not drawn his dart gun. Seeing Unicorn's questioning expression, he said, "I'm shifting to durability. As dense as I can get. Right now, my skin is bulletproof, muscles and bones are like leather and granite. I feel a little safer."

"No one can hear us talking, right?"

"As long as we're using the coms in our helmets, no." He began moving toward the house slowly, looking around the area. The light enhancers in their visors illuminated everything brilliantly. In this moonless cloudy winter night, they saw at a level comparable to noon in summer sunlight. The only drawback was range, the visible area only extended thirty feet in any direction.

"Say, Sheng, did you ever find a way to use two gralic effects at the same time? You know, be fast AND strong or strong AND invulnerable?"

"Nah. Not that I haven't tried," he laughed. "Teacher Jathis says I do actually have some secondary effects each time, though. When I get strong, my body also toughens up otherwise I would hurt myself. Same for when I get fast, so I don't rip tendons. And when I go dense, like now, my normal strength goes up a degree, too, otherwise it'd be hard to move."

"Jest wondering. Not that I'm envious of you having actual gralic abilities or anything, although I am! Check out how chewed up this front yard is. Lots of cars were parked here and almost got stuck in the mud."

"You're right." They stood in front of the house for a moment, studying the scene. Sheng said, "Looks to me like there was quite a crowd here and they left recently. The tire tracks are still sharp-edged, they haven't softened with erosion. There was a cold rain two days ago, judging by the mud, so these Tigermen were here after that."

"The detective speaks! What else?"

"Expensive vehicles, too. I'm not as good at identifying treads as I should be, but going by the size alone, these were mostly ATVs. Not a good sign. We're not dealing with one mastermind and only a few thugs."

"A Tiger Nation," Ashley suggested. "Not great news. Let's circle the house."

Behind the building, two aluminum garbage cans were full and there was a black plastic bag next to them, tied up tight. Sheng poked it with his boot. "Yeah, we're going to have to rummage through that before we leave. It's amazing how even otherwise sharp crooks leave receipts and envelopes in their garbage instead of destroying them." He turned back to the house itself.

"Ranch style," he continued. "Brick walls. I'd say built in the early 50s. The usual low-pitched roof, large windows, sliding glass doors. Not really popular in Florida, but then Shogren wasn't from this country."

"If you say so." Ashley had not relaxed her vigilance in the slightest. While her partner looked at the house, she kept turning in all directions, searching the trees behind them and watching the corners of the building, expecting Tigermen to come charging at them at any second.

"Door's unlocked." Sheng entered into a long kitchen that had been left with all its hanging pots and pans, coffeemaker, microwave on the counter and even some untouched fruit in a bowl on the round table. Coming in behind him, closing the door silently, Unicorn opened the refrigerator door a crack. There were still some items in there, but it was not stocked.

For the next full hour, they moved through the house. The living room had five blankets stretched out on the rug, with pillows or rolled up towels at the end of each one. The bedroom had two more blankets on the floor, as well as unmade sheets and blankets on the bed itself.

"I like this less and less!" Unicorn grumbled. "At least ten of these varmints were staying here. Add another one on the couch. I didn't mean 'Tiger Nation' as a literal phrase, I was hoping there was only a few of them."

She watched how Sheng searched quickly but systematically, tilting or moving furniture to look underneath, checking for any items that had been dropped and forgotten. From his lack of comment, apparently nothing he found was of any significance. Ashley herself checked the underside of drawers and in other classic hiding places, but with no better luck.

It was the biggest room by the front door that gave them the most to think about. All the furnishings had been removed. Deep parallel scrapes in the polished wood floor led from several directions toward the door. One coil of heavy-duty orange extension cord had been left behind, as well as a few scraps of cardboard and loose wrapping paper.

"Whoa, seems to me like this is where that Zhune equipment was used. They dragged it out without trying to protect the floors," Ashley said. "I bet it was because of Jeremy killing that Tigerman back in New York. They knew some Humans had learned about them and they ran for cover."

Sheng made a non-commital sound, as he was kneeling to examine scorch marks around an electrical outlet near the floor. "It has to be Zhune artifacts doing this. They need so much electricity that there's a danger of starting fires in the wall."

"I vote we stop for a minute," Ashley said. "First, I need a bathroom break. And a few protein bars, I haven't eaten since breakfast. Also, I think we should report to Sable."

"Okay. Yeah, you're right," he said, straightening up. "I brought some sandwiches. We can eat them while we take a break. Sable always worries about us on a mission, but I'm sure she's even more concerned right now."

Unicorn couldn't keep a saddened tinge from her tones, "Because of what happened to Megan. I get it. Let's go sit in the CORBY and take five."

Going back through the house and out the rear door again, they both found themselves moving slowly, facing in opposite directions so they were almost back to back. "Drat it all, Sheng," Unicorn said in a low voice, "I don't remember us ever being so timid. We've tackled the most bloodthirsty nightmares the Midnight War could throw at us."

"Why are you whispering?" asked Sheng. He approached the CORBY's tail, which did not have rotor blades but instead two vertical vanes using high-pressure air streams to help control flight. With all his training and experience, as keyed up as he was, he was still taken off guard. A huge bulky form scrambled up from under the stealthcopter's tail and crashed into him with bone-breaking impact, immediately swerving to leap up beyond head height and pounce down on Ashley. She cried out more in surprise than pain, feeling her gunhand pinned down to the ground by more than two hundred pounds of weight, the other foot pressing down on her chest and keeping her from drawing in a breath.

"Hey!" shouted Sheng from where he had jumped back on his feet. "Eat the bigger one first."

In a split-second, faster than an untrained eye could have followed, the Tigerman spun and vaulted across the intervening distance, ready to rip and slash. He dove right into a fist at the end of a stiffened arm as rigid as a bar of steel. Sheng had braced himself and didn't budge as the brute cracked its face against that fist.

Not expecting that at all, the monster fell back a step, shaking its head. Sheng closed in and swung a wide looping overhand punch that started down by his knees. That blow hit like a hammer swung by a determined blacksmith. Blood splashed out from a broken nose. The creature loped back out of reach and swung around to escape.

But Sheng Mo-Yuan ran and actually tackled the brute, catching him off balance and throwing him down on his back. Straddling on his knees over the Tigerman, Sheng blasted furious alternating left-right hooks to a face that was beginning to lose shape under those impacts. "You started this!" Sheng yelled as loud as he could, "But I'm going to finish it!"

Before he could be killed, the creature thrashed about, got Sheng off him and was up on his feet again. In the last second of his life, he saw a small dark figure aiming a strange looking handgun at him. Then the sharp crack of the explosion sounded as his head flew apart into fragments too small to be recovered.

The echoes of that blast echoed from the forest behind them. Ashley lowered her gun and shouted, "Hell yeah! We're the top of the food chain for a reason."

Sheng loomed up over the corpse, with its mangled neck a mere stump and the head obliterated. "Ash? Can you hear me?"

"Barely. I hope I'm not permanently deaf. That shot nearly broke my little wrist, these resonance firers have some recoil."

"Use the infrared in your visor," he snapped. "Right now. We need to see if there are any more in the woods sneaking up on us."

After a few tense moments, they both relaxed very slightly. Sheng said, "Nothing."

"Me neither. That ambush was my fault, buddy. When we were in the air, I searched the house for heat sources. But I didn't check the woods around the house. My bad."

"Next time, we'll know better. Cirkoth guard me, that was actually scary. I lost it because I was mad at myself for being afraid."

Bending down over the headless body, Unicorn scoffed. "I'm not going to bother looking for a pulse. Man. Sheng, we have a lot to tell Sable about now. Let's sit in the CORBY and I'll call her. She's gonna be glad to hear we're both okay. Such a mom."

Before turning away from the dead thing, Sheng noticed how the splashes of blood were steaming in the frigid night air. "Why did this one remain behind? Why was he waiting out of sight?"

"Because this Tiger Nation knows who is after them," offered Ashley. "Next time we catch up with them, they'll be ready for us. I have that sinking feeling we're headed for a full scale, no-fooling battle."

4/6/2022

"Passing Lane On the Highway To Hell"

3/28/2003

I.


"What is your knight even doing way over there? He's useless, absolutely useless. He can't even feed himself or wipe his own butt. I'd trade him for a used beat-up old pawn, if you asked me. Wait. When did you take my queen? I didn't even see it."

When the flow of chatter from Unicorn paused for a second, Megan Salenger looked up from the war helmet she was adding new circuits to. "Two moves ago. You were concentrating on trying to attack my rook on E4."

Ashley threw back her long platinum blonde hair and huffed."Are you sure you didn't zap me with your raygun and erase my memory for a few seconds?"

The Trom Girl replied calmly, "No. You are still reacting to moves as they happen. You need to look ahead four or five moves and position your pieces accordingly."

Studying her small magnetic chess set, Unicorn launched into another tirade. "I don't like the way your bishops work together. They're creepy. The two of them have got all the good openings blocked off, As soon as I learn some more strategy, I'll take out both bishops at the start of the game."

"You are both intelligent and adaptable, Ashley, but you lack patience. Your game will improve if you slow down and consider what your opponent is planning."

The little blonde pouted in a way that had melted many hearts. Ashley Whitaker had always been pretty and at twenty-two, she was gorgeous enough that people often forgot what they were doing as she passed by. She raised a piece, changed her mind and moved a pawn forward to block an advance.

"See, I know you're smarter than me," she said. "The Trom raised you to be a super-genius who could win a different Nobel Prize every year. But what I have is creativity! There's no way to predict what I'm going to next."

"You do have a strong random factor in your psychological makeup," the Trom Girl agreed. She clicked the chin bar on her helmet closed and painstakingly replaced the wire-thin tools to their case. Megan Salenger was a few years older than Ashley, a little heavier in build and a few inches taller. Her untidy short hair was black and she had dark inquisitive eyes to complete the contrast between the two of them.

Leaning over, Megan didn't even glance at the board before moving her queen down to B3. "That's mate. Your defenses are getting stronger."

Unicorn reacted as if she had been punched hard in the chest. "I am stricken, absolutely stricken. My life is ruined. I will have to wear a bag over my head so other players don't laugh at me."

Before Megan could reply, their captain appeared in the doorway of the office. "Glad to see you two are still here. I know this is your free day, Megan."

"Oh, no! She's got a clipboard..." said Unicorn. "It's not my turn to scrub out the refrigerator AGAIN?"

"Relax," Sable said as she crossed over behind her desk and settled into her swivel chair. "I've got a report from one of our observers of possible Midnight War activity. It might turn out to be nothing, most of our investigations do. But it might also turn out to be anything from Karl Eldritch to Red Sect to a pack of Skinwalkers."

"Better than putting on those yellow rubber gloves and kneeling in front of the refrigerator all day," Ashley grumbled. "Let me run up to my room and get my gear."

With the effortless agility of youth and regular exercise, she leaped up and dove out of the room. A second later, they heard her light footfalls racing up the stairs.

Sable tapped the small chess set and smiled. "She's been on this kick for a month now."

"Ashley tends to move from one hobby to another as soon as she feels a minimal competency."

"OH, yes. I remember her harmonica phase. Are you ready to go?"

Megan stood up, tucking her helmet under one arm. She was wearing her version of the KDF field suit, all black... boots, snug pants and a waist-length jacket. "My gravity shield is stowed in my Jeep, but my superiors have mentioned I should be more discreet about its use when I might be seen."

The Unicorn galloped back into the office and almost skidded to a stop. Instead of her usual all white outfit, she seemed to be going through a baby blue phase.. sneakers, jeans, T-shirt and denim jacket all that color with darker blue trim on collars and cuffs.

In her hands was a cylindrical white leather sheath three feet long, tapering to a point at one end. "Armor under my clothes, dart gun in the small of my back, emergency Kitkat bars in my jacket pocket. I'm bringing my Unicorn horn. If we meet any critters with gralic powers, I can shut them down. How about our briefing, captain?"

"Not much to go on, to be honest. One of our oldest observers reports a sighting in Jamaica.."

"Jamaica! We're going to Jamaica!"

"Jamaica, Queens. Calm down, Ashley. It's Bennett Ferguson, he was one of Jeremy's first observers and over the years he's been reliable. This time he says he saw a man standing by the rear wall of a pharmacy. As he watched, the man apparently melted through the wall and was gone from sight. A few minutes later, the man appeared again and ran off with a plastic shopping bag in one hand."

Megan had been listening intently and now she interrupted. "This would be the All-Stop Pharmacy at 446 Lincoln Avenue, wouldn't it? The staff is being questioned by the police because a large quantity of restricted painkillers is missing with no sign of a break-in. Fentanyl and Percocet were mentioned."

"Hey, wait," said Unicorn, "I didn't hear about this on the news."

"I skim a daily summary of police reports in the metropolitan area."

Unicorn pointed an accusatory finger. "Science Nerd, some day you are going to get in big trouble hacking into Pentagon and FBI and NYPD files the way you do."

Disregarding Ashley for the moment, Sable continued, "That's really all we have right now, I'm afraid.I want you two to go see Ferguson and get more details, look around the scene, ask some questions, the usual procedure."

Already moving for the door, Ashley was dangling her Unicorn horn by one strap. "On the job, captain! This guy will find me and Megan are a wall he can't walk through.

( the rest of the story )

PRILYRDYN FROM ENGLISH

( the rest of the entry )

KDF Membership

24 Full Members

1979 10. Founding Members:
Jeremy Bane (b.1957-) 6' 175 lbs Hr:Black Ey: Light Grey.
Michael Hawk (b.1919-d.1983) 6'1" 190 lbs Hr:Brown, turning Grey. Ey:Dark Brown
Leonard Slade (b.1901-d.1990) 6'1" 209 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown.
Khang (b.1909-d.1990) 7'6" Weight Variable. Hr:None Ey:Glowing White
Ted Wright (b.1943-) 5'11" 210 lbs Hr:Black, later White. Ey:Dark Brown with Blue Glint
Cindy Brunner (b.1958-) 5'1" 100 lbs Hr:Dark Blonde Ey:Blue
Larry Taper (b.1945-d.1990) 5'10" 180 lbs Hr:Dark Brown. Ey:Brown

Stephen Weaver (b.1950-) 6'1" 180lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Joined in June 1980, stepped down to Reserve Membership after losing levitation ability 1990.

Garrison Nebel (b.1952-d.2022). 5'11" 175lbs Hr:Light Brown Ey:Brown [later opaque white pupils] Joined 1983, stepped down to Reserve Membership 1990.

>Associates but not Full Members-
Shiro Mitsuru (b.1953-) 6' 185 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Light Brown. Associate 1984-1990. Reserve 1990 to Present.
Karina (b. Darthan Age-) 5'8" 130 lbs Hr:Auburn Ey:Green. Associate from 1982 to Present.
Cheval (b.1953-d.) 5'2" 110lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Green. Not Associate but trusted ally.
Sulak (b.1909-d.) 6'3" 250 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Blue. Associate from 1986 to Present.

>1986- New Members
Jessica Frost [True legal name Jessica Segal] (b.1961-d.) 5'6" 120lbs Hr:Light Brown, turned White, Ey:Brown, turned Light Blue. Joined 1986, resigned in 1988 after her powers faded.
Tang Ming (b.1968-d.) 5'1' 105 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Joined 1986, left in 1991 to move to CHUJIR. Reserve Member 1991 to Present.
Ethan Petrov (b.1949-d.2021) 6'1" 180lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Applied for KDF membership 1986, served briefly but left after being found unsuitable. Killed by JEREMY BANE, January 2021.
Valera (b.1940-d.) 5'11" 155 lbs. Hr:Blonde Ey:Blue. Associate Member 1986 to Present.

>1987 - New Members
Kwali (b.1964-d.1990) 6'5" 260 lbs. Hr:Black Ey:Brown, later Bright Green.
Chen Wong-Lai (b.1961-d.1990) 5'7" 140lbs. Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Joined 1987, died in Chujir in January 1990.
Gornak (b.1965-) 7' 400lbs Hr:None Ey:Amber. Joined 1986 as Associate Member, stepped down to Reserve Membership in 1989.

>1999/12 - Second Team
Lauren Sable Reilly (b.1978-d.) 5'5" 115 lbs. Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown
Ashley Whitaker (b.1980-d.) 5' 100 lbs Hr:Platinum Blonde Ey:Light Blue. Maternity leave after April 2012, gave birth to daughter April in December 2012. Returned to Active duty 2020.
Josef Jubilec (b.1973-d.) 6'2" 200 lbs. Hr:Light Blonde Ey:Blue.
Megan Salenger (b.1979-d.2022) 5'3" 105 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Stepped down to Reserve Membership in early 2011. Died February 2022.
Sheng Mo-Yuan (b 1980-d.) 5'5" 155 lbs. Hr:Black Ey:Brown. Stepped down to Reserve Membership in May 2010 to open his Fist For Hire agency.
Levon Bingham (b.1977-d.) 5'10" 180 lbs Hr:Black Ey:Lambent Green. Stepped down to Associate Membership in 2005 to study in Danarak.

>2012- Third Team. Sable remaining as Captain.
Timothy Limbo (b.1990-d.) 5'10" 165 lbs Hr:Blond Ey:Blue.
Demrak Jin (b.1987-d. ) 5'3" 110 lbs Hr: White Ey: Dark Blue. Associate Member but not accepted at Tel Shai.
Haley Lawson (b.1995-d.) 5'8" 125 lbs Hr:Dark Red. Ey:Light Green. Retired after traumatic incident July 2015.
Jocelyn Garimara (b.1986-d.) 5'1" 100 lbs. Hr:Black Ey:Brown.

Galvan (b.1874-d.) 6'6" 289 lbs. Hr:Brown Ey:Brown. Associate Member 2016 on.

Carlo Ventura (b.2001-d.) 5'10" 150lbs Hr:Black Ey:Dark Brown. Member 2021 on.
__________________

KDF SCHEDULE
Six days a week on shift One (7 AM -3 PM) or Two (3 PM-11 PM). One free day per week. Rotating Watch Duty one night per week (11 PM- 7 AM). Always on call for emergencies. Sick leave as needed. Two weeks vacation per year but still on call.
Tel Shai training at discretion of Teachers, takes precedence over schedule.

GLOSSARY - BANE'S RESIDENCES

Bane's Office, 2001-2016

Stepping down at leader of the KDF in September 2001, JEREMY BANE opened an office for his DIRE WOLF AGENCY. This was on the ground floor of a four story yellow brick building near the corner of Third Avenue and 44th Street. The building had its own modest parking lot but Bane preferred to keep his cars in the IMPERIAL GARAGE down on 40th Street. Besides the walk-in clinic, the building also housed several doctor's office, a law firm, two realtors and a posh nail and hair salon.

A major factor in choosing this building was that, ten years earlier, Bane had rescued the manager's family from a kidnaping attempt by the PREINCARNATORS. Still grateful, Steven Goldfarb overlooked the many irregular activities Bane engaged in as far as possible.

Automatically sliding double-glass doors opened to the lobby. To one's left was a bank of mailboxes for the occupants; to the right was EMERGENCY ONE, an urgent care facility open from seven AM until eleven PM. Further ahead was an open staircase leading up to the second floor. The wall to the farvleft and the side of the staircase formed a short narrow corridor; on that left wall just before the steel rear exit door was a narrow wooden door with a bronze plaque reading DIRE WOLF AGENCY and a phone number.

A small waiting room held only two wooden chairs and a low table holding outdated magazines. High up in one corner was a monitor showing what the hall camera saw. As one entered the office itself, a door to a closet and a door to a minimal bathroom were on the left. In front of the wall to the right was Bane's desk with a cordless phone in its charger, in and out trays, and a laptop computer. Three wooden chairs faced the desk for clients. On a shelf over the closet door was a police scanner. The wall opposite the door had a long picture window facing 45th Street; this bullet-resistant window was normally covered by opaque curtains. In front of the window stood a black leather-bound couch with some cushions and a folded-up blanket where Bane sometimes napped or recovered from injuries. An end table at either end of the couch held a reading lamp.

Next to the bookcase, Bane installed a waist-high refrigerator by 2012. Not much perishable was kept in there, only bottled water and juice, dried fruit chips and crackers, beef sticks and hiker's granola.

Bane kept his field suit, an Eldar travel crystal and some weapons concealed in the floor. ("The Dire Wolf knelt beside the three-shelf bookcase on otherwise bare wall facing his desk. He knelt and undid a latch and then swung the case around on hidden casters. A shallow pit was revealed, chiseled out of the concrete by Bane himself quite against the terms of anyone's lease. Within it was a steamer trunk, black with yellow metal corners and a big old-fashioned lock. The big padlock was a decoy, the real lock was hidden in the trim. Inside was his field suit and an assortment of weapons and tools.") Before vacating his lease, Bane had to painstakingly repair the damage he had done and restore the concrete as closely as possible. Evidently no one noticed as he was not contacted by the building's owners.

The exit door was intended for emergencies only and was set to ring an alarm when opened. MEGAN SALENGER had installed a neutralizer within the device which could be deactivated by a signal from Bane's key fob for thirty seconds before turning back on again. This allowed Bane to secretly enter and leave the building, especially after hours when the lobby was closed, but all of this involved several violations of safety code.

( More entries )