dochermes

"DUSTY HEROES: Hellspawn"

9/25/2000

I.

Warren Vidimar's suite suggested a good deal of money had gone into refurnishing it. The counters were marble, those were original oil paintings on the walls, the carpet was lush and deep, everything was co-ordinated in restful dark browns and rust colors. An elaborate stereo played Vivaldi with amazing clarity. None of this was any comfort to the sorcerer now.

He was bound unnecessarily tight with fishing line to a solid wooden chair, his arms pulled back behind him. Sensation had long ago been lost in his lower arms and hands, and he feared he would deal with gangrene and amputation if somehow he survived this night. The signs of a brutal beating showed in his left eye being swollen shut and in the dried blood caked under his nose. Vidimar was not tough by personality or body, and his defiance had been broken quickly. Head ringing with pain, he only heard vaguely the words of the man he had brought back from the outer darkness.

Igor Segeivitch Petrov loomed up four feet over six inches tall as he sneered down his nose at the Preincarnation master. Stalin's most feared spy had black hair brushed straight back off a high forehead, a sharp beak of a nose and a thin-lipped mouth that hinted at great cruelty. Deepset black-irised eyes gleamed with an inexplicable glint of the red that the room's amber lighting could not be responsible for. Petrov wore an old-fashioned single-breasted suit of dark grey tweed, with a light topcoat over that. His hands rested on the crosspiece of a huge two-handed broadsword, the point of which pressed down into the carpet. The blade and hilt were crafted of a strange red metal that shimmered hotly as if just taken out of a furnace. Hellspawn, the Blade Which Drinks Life, the vilest creation of Tollinor Kje himself back before recorded history reached. It was the sword Hellspawn which had given Petrov his feared code name the Red Blade.

Raising his bruised face, Warren Vidimar summoned what resistance he still possessed. "Raising you was a mistake, Petrov. Your spirit belonged in Hell and I should have left it there."

"So you say," the Red Blade snorted. "You are too late wise as we say in the motherland. But raise me you did, Dr Vidimar, and we all must deal with the conseqences of our actions. I am in control now. With your hands tied and your followers unavailable, your witchman skills are denied you. I will keep you alive a while longer, I think. Your cult of Preincarnation is a useful asset. There are other old comrades that I wish for you to bring back to life. Hitler's Hangman. Morgil, the Death's-Head. Perhaps Karl Eldritch will work for us again. Oh, and the Red Widow of course. From what you tell me, the Soviet Union has broken up. No matter. Mother Russia will always endure and always need those who work for her."

Vidimar could not repress a groan as he tried to flex his fingers but couldn't feel them. "Petrov, please. Listen to this offer. Instead of being an unwilling prisoner, I will work with you. Why not? My family is from Estonia, we have no reason to love America OR Russia. With my cooperation, we can resurrect the greatest criminals from any era. You can lead an army of pirates, Samurai, Vikings...."

"A tempting thought," said the Red Blade. "Of course I would have a loyal lieutenant or two keep watch on you for backsliding, but I sense your proposal is sincere."

"It is! I'm not the mastermind my father was. I don't have his ambition. Working with you would mean protection from my enemies in the Midnight War." Vidimar let his head dropped to his chest. "But please, please untie my hands before I lose them permanently."

"It is unfortunate that your father met an untimely end at the hands of his own creation." Petrov shifted his grasp on the menacing sword and leaned forward to scrutinize his captive's face. "From what I gather, Leopold Vidimar was a true genius at gralic sorcery and you his son merely carry on his work with some refinements."

"Yes, yes, I admit it. What do you say? Do we have a deal?"

"Perhaps. I will think it over. In the meantime, I will indeed free your hands but hear my words... any foolish attempts at escape and Hellspawn will suck your lifeforce right out your body."

"I won't try anything, I swear it." Vidimar watched as the spymaster went to place the sword on a low coffee table not far from hand, then returned with a pair of tin snips from a pocket and started to cut through the fishing cord around the sorcerer's wrists. At that moment, the door crashed inward so hard that one hinge broke loose. Lowering his leg from that kick, a gaunt man in black vaulted into the room and pointed a long-barreled .38 revolver at the Red Blade.

"Don't move. Don't even think about it, Petrov," said Bane. "Before you could reach that sword, you'd have five tunnels through your head. Raise your hands so I can see them."

"I don't know you, American," Igor Petrov slowly replied as he straightened up. He made no move toward lifting his hands. Perhaps he did not know who Jeremy Bane was, but the spymaster was a shrewd judge. He saw the steadiness of the hand holding the gun, he saw the calm deliberation in those cold grey eyes and he had heard a lack of tension in that quiet voice. Petrov knew he was facing a deadly enemy.

"Oh my God," said Vidimar. "The Dire Wolf! That's it. We're as good as dead."

II.

"Stay calm and don't force my hand," Bane said. "Warren Vidimar, huh? You're as bad as your father was. All this month, my team and I have been tracking down your Preincarnated monsters. The Monk, Atron Ke, Tommy Moon, Golgora, even Christopher Lincoln. The party's over, mister."

"And myself? You do me no honor if I remain unidentified even a half century later."

"Oh, I know you all right. Igor Petrov, the Red Blade. Well, a reasonable imitation of Petrov, in any..."

Bane's next word was cut off as a pair of tin snips came spinning like lightning toward his face. He had not seen them in Petrov's hand when he had entered and he had been expecting the spylord to pull a gun instead. With his enhanced reflexes, Bane was able to sway to one side and slap the sharp edged tool away, but this gave the Red Blade the opening he needed. In two quick steps, he had clasped his fingers around the hilt of Hellspawn.

Startlingly, the sword wheeled up into an on guard position, pulling Petrov's arms with it. The slight discomfort on the Russian spy's face revealed he had not been responsible. Now the heavy weapon twirled in a tight figure eight pattern and straightened with its point extended toward the Dire Wolf.

"The Blade Which Drinks Life," Bane growled. "Oh, I know about that cursed thing. But there's something you may not realize yet, Petrov."

"Indeed? Please enlighten me."

""That's not Hellspawn you're holding, pal. I saw Hellspawn broken by my friend Khang on the island of Maroch twenty years ago. The fragments scattered and were lost, and the Darthan spell animating it ended. You have an iron sword that looks like Hellspawn and maybe acts like it in some ways... but it's not the real thing."

The Russian warlock hesitated. For the first time, his certainty seemed shaken. His broad hands shifted on the hilt as he hefted the weapon and considered what Bane had said.

Lowering his gun slightly, Bane raised an accusing finger of his free hand. This was a distraction as he took a step forward at the same time. "Yeah, think about it. Vidimar's spell couldn't possibly match the gralic force that Tollinor Kje ensorcelled into the real Hellspawn. Tollinor Kje was the Firstmade of the Darthim, the most dangerous sorcerer in history. You've got a cheap imitation of his sword, which I suppose is only appropriate."

As Petrov stared with a dawning realization, the Dire Wolf took another step forward and raised his voice. "You are NOT Igor Petrov. He died in battle with Mark Drum back in 1957. Petrov is dead, gone forever. You are not him. You're a flesh and blood copy of his body, and your brain is working on a replay of his memories. But a photograph is not the object. A recording is not the orchestra. You're not Igor Petrov, accept it."

The Red Blade's face fell as he could not keep the realization at bay any longer. For a second, his thoughts turned inward and he was vulnerable. Thi was what Bane had been trying to provoke. With one leap, he closed the gap, chambering his leg up to his chest to drive a straight side kick directly into the center of Petrov's abdomen. The copper-colored sword wriggled around to try to impale the Dire Wolf but Bane smacked it aside with his gun to avoid having it make contact with his skin and he crashed a right hook that broke Petrov's jaw in two places.

Even as the Red Blade doubled up in agony and fell to knock over a chair, Bane had whirled and kicked Hellspawn far out of reach. He stared as he saw that metal of that weapon had faded from a lurid hot crimson to dull dark grey. The suffocating sensation of impending doom faded from the room. Bane relaxed ever so slightly, then turned back to Petrov.

Where the Russian villain had fallen, a much smaller and softer man was stretched out unconscious on the luxurious carpet. His lower face was seriously out of shape. Bane exhaled sharply, "Damn. He reverted. I was hoping to get some information out of him. Petrov knew a lot of secrets about both the Cold War and the Midnight War."

"Help me, please," Vidimar begged. "He forced me to work for him. My life was in danger. Hurry, cut me loose."

Bane stepped over and regarded the sorcerer with a noticable lack of sympathy. "Yeah, right. You were running the Preincarnators just fine for the last year all on your own. Maybe I have to call an ambulance for your follower there, but first I'm taking you to KDF headquarters. You also have some answers to give out."

Warren Vidimar gave a weak chuckle that turned into a sob. "No. No. There's still one way out for me."

"Now don't try anything crazy," Bane began but even as he spoke, he saw the air shimmer wildly around the man in the chair. Vidimar's outline was lost in a flash of red gralic force and when the light faded, his body had dwindled and reformed.

The Dire Wolf's mouth fell open for one of the rare times he was completely flummoxed. He hadn't known that a sorcerer could turn the Preincarnation spell inward on the caster but there was the proof. Bane allowed himself a wide grin at the results. Maybe the spell wouldn't last long, it was hard to say. Sometime Preincarnated subjects remained that way permanently, sometimes the effect was only good for a few days ot weeks. Time would tell. For the moment, sleeping peacefully in the chair where Warren Vidimar had sat, a six month old baby boy dozed in its diapers.

9/23/2000 - Rev.11/14/2018

"Sceptre"

7/24/-7/25/2000

I.

Unicorn was dressed all in white as usual... hiking boots, thick cotton socks,snug shorts and a white T-shirt with a leather vest over it. The vest had six deep pockets holding gadgets, with two more on the inside, and the brown leather belt around her narrow waist held further pouches full of equipment as well as one of the anesthetic dart guns in a flap holster. Although she wore the silk-thin Trom armor under her clothes, she had retracted it up to her crotch and up to her elbows to leave her legs and forearms bare.

Slung in across her back was the white leather cylindrical sheath which held her talisman which gave her both her powers and her code name... the Unicorn horn.

As Argent saw her flash a brilliant smile at him when she hopped over a fallen log in their way, he had to admit she was a gorgeous young woman. The slender but curvy little body, the perfect chiseled face with long platinum-blonde hair and crystal blue eyes now hidden behind polarized aviator's gunglasses... she looked like she should be posing for magazine covers. But, he also realized, despite all that she could be such an intense pain in the neck to work with. The girl was just impossible.

In contrast to his partner, the Chujiran was wearing the full KDF field suit. All black. The boots, tough pants and waist-length jacket with its second inner layer of the Trom armor, and with the visored helmet on, gave him more protection than ceramic plate and Kevlar would have but weighed no more than regular clothing would have. He was comfortable enough even in the near-tropical heat because the humidity was low and the field suit fabric regulated his body temperature to optimal. He had two canteens on his belt.

"I can't imagine why Jeremy doesn't make you wear a field suit like the rest of us," he grumbled as he caught up with her. "I swear, he lets you break more rules than the rest of us combined."

"Aw, every teacher has a pet," Ashley chuckled. "Say Sheng, did I tell I was talking to my friend Gwen, you remember, she works at her father's Red Pepper restaurant on Canal Street? Anyway, I asked her about Chujir. She said some Chinese believe it's a sort of mythical homeland of the Han people. Like a Garden of Eden sort of fable."

"So I've heard," Argent said as he stepped up next to her. "If they only knew how real Chujir is.I don't think there are more than three of us in the world at any time. Wait. Sshh." He held up a hand in warning as the sound of feet tromping came nearer. Ahead of them, the trail bent sharply and a squad of Melgar soldiers marched into view.

Sheng shifted the focus of gralic energy in his body to enhanced speed. His reflexes and voluntary movements doubled in speed instantly and he was hurtling forward before the Melgarin could react to his sudden appearance. The nearest one, a grizzled veteran with long mustaches down either side of his mouth, had barely begun to swing his long-handled axe up before Argent exploded a one-two-three combination of punches that threw the man back hard against the comrades behind him. Sheng hopped over all three as they got tangled and confused. He found himself between two brawny Melgarin both taller and heavier than he was, but at only five feet five, the Chujiran adventurer was used to this. He blasted a side kick into the nearer soldier's stomach, drew that leg back and shot out a reverse roundhouse that slewed the other man's jaw askew with a crunching noise.

Although his training in Kumundu under Teacher Chael was still that of a novice, back in Chujir he had been studying under Tang Ming for the past two years. She had gotten him in condition and taught him basic moves. His power of increasing his strength or speed was at this point his greatest asset. One of the Melgar soldiers managed a wide slash with a three-foot-sword but Sheng leaped aside quite out reach, then dove in again to slam a backfist to the cheek that made his opponent sway drunkenly. Within a few seconds, half of the Melgarin were dazed or dumbfounded and only beginning to get their bearings.

Off to one side, Ashley Whitaker held the long-barreled air pistol and squeezed off one silent shot after another. She was the best in marksmanship of the new team. Since childhood, Ashley had been strenuously raised by her mother to take over as the second Unicorn. Where she spotted bare skin, she sent an anesthetic dart with unerring aim even though her targets were moving. The men who were hit slapped at the unexpected stinging but then dropped unconscious only a few seconds later.

The soldier moving toward her had a high collar and long sleeves on his mail shirt, as well as a tough leather cowl. There was not much of an opening left uncovered to aim for. Not knowing she was making what her mother called 'that stupid face,' Ashley squinted one eye, stuck her tongue out and sent a dart right into the bulbous tip of the Melgar's prominent nose. The crosseyed expression at he tried to focus on the dart made her grin wickedly.

A Melgar with a bright yellow beard had managed to seize Argent from behind in a fierce bear hug. The Chujiran struggled for an instant before shifting his focus to increased strength. The bigger man found he was suddenly trying to hold a wriggling opponent who was stronger than he was, who inexorably forced his arms apart and broke free. Sheng seized the front of the bearded man's mail shirt and yanked him into an elbow strike to the face.

At this point, the enemies who were not unconscious were too stunned or pained to be any immediate threat but they would be shaking it off in a minute. Ashley straightened up, calculating that she still had five darts in her clip, as a loud buzzing sounded right behind her. She whirled right into a small hard fist that connected to her chin with forty miles per hour behind it. Unicorn yelped and fell over backwards into the underbrush, rolling to jump back up on her feet. She saw Fatal Wasp looping around and diving straight at her.

Tiny and lean at several inches under five feet tall, Holly Kirschner was dressed all in dark green with yellow trim... low slippers, tights and a long-sleeved pullover. The long black hair swung free. At her back, Wasp's translucent wings blurred into near invisibility as she hovered at face level. Ashley had kept a grin on her dart gun and, as she got her footing, she swung the weapon up into position.

"Oh no, not you again!" she blurted out before the Fatal Wasp whirled around in mid-air and kicked her high on one cheek. Unicorn fell down hard with lights flashing in her vision and her hearing obscured. She did not catch herself but landed on one side and groaned. Seeing this, Sheng shifted back to heightened speed and rushed to snatch the Wasp out of the air in a leaping tackle. They landed on the hard dirt with his weight forcing her out flat. Even taken by surprise like that, Kirschner grabbed the wrist of the hand pinning her down and extended sharp black barbs from beneath her fingernails. Sheng howled in unexpected pain as a massive dose of venom was injected into his bloodstream. He broke away, clutching at his wounded hand and feeling that arm grow numb up to the elbow. For the moment, he was preoccupied with not passing out.

Rising up off the ground, wings beating furiously, Fatal Wasp yelled at the Melgarin. "The Master has sent me to summon you back to base! You! and You! Help those who are having trouble getting on their feet, let's go!"

Over by the bushes, Ashley got to her hands and knees, rubbing the side of her bruised face. Seeing Sheng injured only made her angrier. The little blonde unsnapped the catch on the leather sheath across her back and drew out the Horn. Its flat end was capped with ensalir to further strengthen the spell put on it by the Eldarin thousands of years ago. Holding the ancient talisman up with both hands, Ashley sang out in a clear voice, "With this Horn, I remove thy power!"

The effect was instantaneous. Fatal Wasp gasped as her wings retracted into her body through slits in her tunic and she fell to hit the ground, stumbling but staying on her feet. The sharp barbs slid back into her fingers and were gone. She was Human again.

Rising herself, gripping the Horn ready to use it as a club or a stabbing weapon, Unicorn yelled, "Be careful who you kick in the face, missy!"

Wasp's dark green eyes had narrowed to slits. "Oh, I'll do worse than that, little girl...." she hissed as she curled her hands into fists and stalked forward.

Suddenly wishing she had followed procedure for once and worn the protective field suit with its helmet. Ashley shifted the Unicorn horn in her grip and put on her brave face. "Where's a can of Raid when you need it?"

"I don't find you funny," Kirschner replied. "I ought to shut you up for good."

At that exact second, the clearing was filled by a score of Cojobe tribesmen running in from all directions, screaming as loudly as they could. The dark-skinned men in their coarse white pants and ponchos brandished knives and spears, several held swords they had taken from fallen enemies. But the Melgarin had mostly recovered and were standing with their own weapons at the ready. The next few minutes was a confused melee of shouts and agonized screams, thuds and slashing noises. Bigger, brawnier and better armed than the Cojobes, the Melgar soldiers had mail coats and helmets to give them a further edge. After the first few seconds, the skirmish turned into a slaughter as the fierce natives were cut down one after
another.

During those few minutes, when Ashley's attention was momentarily distracted by the fighting, the Wasp lunged in and seized the Unicorn horn with both hands to wrest it free and fling far out of reach into the brush. Ashley threw a decent straight punch, but before it could connect she was grabbed from behind by one of the Melgarin and lifted free of the ground. His arms around her chest cut off her breath and pinned her arms to her sides. The Wasp chose a spot on Unicorn's chin, drew her fist back past her own ear and punched the girl as hard as she possibly could. Ashley was not completely unconscious but she dropped in the Melgar's grasp and showed no signs of further resistance. Blood appeared on a split lip.

"You, Lundigar," ordered Fatal Wasp. "Bring her at once to the Master. Do not fail."

"To hear is to obey," the big Melgar grumbled as he turned and trotted off down the trail. The Wasp saw that some fighting was still going on. Almost within her reach, a Cojobe abruptly had his head lopped cleanly off by a Melgar sword whirling in a horizontal arc. She drew back from the skirmish. How had that blonde kid taken away her powers? Despite her desperate concentration, neither her wings nor her barbs would emerge. Feeling vulnerable as she had not in years, Holly Kirschner realized she was a rather petite woman standing a few feet away from murderous giants in armor who were swinging their weapons with gusto. She spun and wondered if she could retrieve that strange ivory horn she had thrown away...

A hand grasped her shoulder and swung her around to receive a brutal hooking punch to the solar plexus. The Wasp blacked out from that blow. Sheng had not been on the Tagra tea diet long enough to receive its full benefits, but his healing factor was elevated enough that he could more or less function. Still in blinding pain as the venom burned in his system and with his right arm numb, the Chujiran fighter saw that Unicorn had been carried away by a Melgar. He started after them, stumbled and caught himself. He was in no condition to pursue anyone. Reluctantly, Sheng decided the best course of action to take and he got the stunned Wasp up over one shoulder, then headed back toward his own team at the best pace he could manage. Drawing on enhanced strength to a limited extent, he heard the final thuds and yelling of the fight fade behind him.

( the rest of the story )

"Repel"

1/15/2000


At mid-morning, Jeremy Bane found his new team scattered through the headquarters building. He could have assembled them with a Blue Alert to the conference room, but he wanted to see how they were using their off-duty hours. He found Sable in the gym, doing overhead pulldowns. She wore sneakers, white shorts and a baggy sweatshirt that said CORTLAND U on it. As Bane came up unseen behind her, she picked up a pocket notepad and wrote down the amount of weight, the reps and put a tiny upward-pointing arrow to indicate she thought she could handle more next time. Lauren Sable Reilly was a serious-minded, over-organized young woman from a demanding family. At twenty-one, she had dropped out of journalism school to join the new team of Tel Shai knights; Bane and Cindy had helped her learn to manage her powers of increased perception and she had been eager to join up with them.

As the Dire Wolf came around in front of her, Sable grinned to greet him. She was attractive in an unconventional way, with thick straight black hair, a snub nose and wide mouth and eyes so dark as to seem black. Her father was Irish, which explained her name, but her mother had been Cuban. "Good morning, captain."

"Hi, Sable. Getting used to the Nautilus machines?"

"Like it better every day. It feels good to build some muscle. I never tried to be physically fit before."

Bane nodded. "You know not to rush it. Your body tells you how fast to go. I'm going to call a meeting at two o'clock."

She lifted a thumb in an okay gesture. "I'll be ready, captain. A shower first, of course."

The tenth floor of the headquarters building had originally been the roof until Bane had ordered it closed over to create the hangar for the helicopter CORBY. As he expected, it was here he found Megan Salenger. All he saw was a pair of tan work boots sticking out from under the black helicopter, with an array of specialized tools on an unrolled canvas strip. Bane crouched, grabbed one toe and wiggled it. "Hey, Trom Girl! Come up for air."

( the rest of the story )

"Lion Seen On Tenth Avenue"

2/4-2/7/2000

I.

Lauren Sable Reilly pulled aside the heavy curtains and gazed unhappily out at East 38th Street. Tiny snow crystals swirled visibly, and she felt sure the wind chill would be near zero. She was already wearing boots, heavy sweat pants and dark red sweater with a rolled collar, and it was cozy in the KDF headquarters. The prospect of going outside did not fill her with eagerness.

At only twenty-two, Sable conducted herself so seriously that people treated her as if she were considerably older. Five inches over five feet in height and slim, she had glossy black hair brushed straight back from a high forehead. Sable's mixed parentage showed in her huge dark eyes, snub nose and full lips but she was remarkably unaware of how attractive she was, even without make-up as usual. It just was not something she gave any thought to. Frowning as she let the curtain fall, Sable took her down-filled coat off one of the wall hooks and tugged it on dutifully.

Hearing light footsteps trotting down the staircase, she glanced up and smiled despite herself. Unicorn! All in white as usual, almost skipping gleefully down the steps into the front hall with eagerness all over her perfect little face. Not quite twenty, she was the youngest member of the new KDF team and the most zealous. Ashley Whitaker was just over five feet tall and just under a hundred pounds. With her pale skin, light blue eyes and platinum blond hair, her all-white suit made her look like some sort of snow elf. Under one arm, she held a visored helmet.

"Hey, Sable!" she called out as she hopped down the final three steps with both feet together. "Ready to go? Let's solve this mystery, what do you say?"

"Where's your talisman?" Sable asked.

"Right here, of course," Ashley answered, swinging around a three-foot leather cylinder she had strapped to her back. "As if I would charge out into excitement without my horn."

Sable raised one eyebrow. "And you are wearing the Trom armor under that field suit? All the specified weapons?"

"You bet. It's FREEZING out, girlfriend! Once I seal this helmet, though, I'll be comfy as if I were wrapped in a blanket in a ski lodge sipping hot chocolate."

"Ashley, I love your enthusiasm. I wish I shared it."

"Hey, I was raised to be the second Unicorn. My mom had me running around adjacent realms when I was just out of diapers." Ashley grinned with self-assurance that had never been seriously tested. "I've been looking forward to this since I could walk. What are we waiting for?"

"Argent." Sable pulled on leather gloves and tugged a knit wool cap down over her head. "We don't have much to go on, you know. Three different people reported seeing a big cat on Tenth Avenue the night before last. A lion with a black hide, running across the street and leaping over a fence. That's all we know."

"A black lion...." Ashley mumbled. "You know, I wonder if maybe.. you know about the Black Lion of Danarak? The Cat's-Claw?"

"Sure. Kwali was a KDF member, I've read his file. He died ten years ago in the Final Halloween." Sable studied Ashley's face thoughtfully. "So we're wondering the same thing."

"That someone found the Cat's Claw?" Ashley asked. "Yeah, it's a thought. I guess two smart girls reach the same conclusion!"

Coming down the stairs, Sheng Mo-Yuan greeted them with a raised hand. Only of medium height but wide and strongly built, Sheng seemed at first to be a Northern Chinese but he was not. The hawklike nose and high cheekbones indicated to those who knew the Midnight War that he was actually from the realm of Chujir. Known as Argent, Sheng could channel gralic force into his body to enhance his speed or strength or resilience greatly, but only using one effect at a time.

As he reached the bottom of the steps, Argent finished buttoning his long cloth coat. He was already wearing wool gloves and a knit cap much like Sable's. "All set," he announced. "Where's everyone else?"

"Megan and Josef are at Tel Shai," Sable said. "Our captain was investigating something upstate. The three of us will investigate these lion sightings first and see what we can turn up."

"Fine, suits me," Sheng told her. "I haven't left the building in two days, I'm getting itchy."

Sable led her partners down the concealed steps to the basement, where they went along the narrow walkway between the vault and the arsenal to a rough wooden door. Beyond that was the underground garage just large to squeeze two cars in. Only the dark green Ford Mustang was there at the moment, their captain had the taken the other car. Argent reached for one of the sets of keys hanging on hooks inside the door, but Unicorn beat him to it.

"Not on your life," she laughed. "You don't have your license yet. Every time you try to drive, the city is in danger. Forget it." She unslung the unicorn horn and placed it carefully in the back seat before sliding behind the wheel. Sable went around to the front passenger seat, leaving Sheng to grudgingly get in the back.

"This is no way to get experience," he mumbled to himself, then settled down. Unicorn drove up the wide concrete ramp with its sharp turn at the top. The steel barrier rose automatically, letting them out in an alley that opened on Lexington Avenue.

"Now for some lion hunting," chuckled Ashley but when she glanced over, the somber look on Sable's face chastised her.

( the rest of the story )

"Burial By Stomach"

A Trom Girl/Unicorn Team-Up

10/3-10/4/2000

I.

They had been hiking since dawn and, as night fell over the mountains around them, Megan and Ashley were glad to pick a spot for camp. Both girls wore sensible outdoors clothing, sturdy boots and loose trousers and flannel shirts over plain cotton T-shirts. Both were carrying small knapsacks high on their backs. At barely five feet tall and just one hundred pounds, Ashley Whitaker had her platinum blonde hair pulled back in a thick ponytail and was wearing mirrored aviator's sunglasses. She surveyed a round clearing on top of a small hill and made an approving noise.

"It's been an exciting climb so far," she said enigmatically. "At least we know we're in the right area after what happened."

A few inches taller and slightly heavier, Megan Salenger had her tousled black hair tucked up under a baseball cap with the New York Yankees logo on it which she had borrowed from Unicorn. She was wearing polarized glasses which she now pulled up onto her forehead to look around. "This is a suitable site," she agreed in her usual subdued tone. "We passed a stream, so there is potable water at hand."

"Oh, finally!" Unicorn sighed. She shrugged off her knapsack and let it drop to the ground, then sank down on top of it wiggled her feet in relief. "I thought we were going to come out on the other side of the Preserve!"

"That is most unlikely," Megan answered. "The Adirondack Forest Preserve contains more than 2.6 million acres. At the rate we were walking..."

"Trom Girl, stop it!" yelled Unicorn. "It was a figure of speech, okay?"

Megan hesitated before continuing in the same mild voice, "Being raised by the Trom has left me more literal in my reactions than most Humans. I am sorry if that inconveniences you, Ashley."

"Listen, what do you call a dog with no legs?" demanded the blonde with no seeming relevance.

"I do not understand the question."

"The answer is, it doesn't matter, he won't come to you no matter what you call him."

Megan responded with a blank stare.

"Aw, it's not a problem," the blonde girl said as she yanked off her shoes and rubbed her tiny feet. "Come on, Megs, we've been working together for almost a year now. I swear, I will have you cursing and using slang and telling jokes if it's the last thing I do."

The Trom Girl unfastened her own knapsack and lowered it to the ground, herself sitting down to rest beside Ashley. "I will build a small fire. If we are lucky, we will quickly find the killers we are seeking."

"Hah!" Unicorn snorted. "I love your attitude. Deep in the woods on a mountain, hours from any town, we're trying to draw out some no-fooling cannibals. And you say we'll find them right away, 'if we are lucky.'"

Megan Salenger went around collecting rocks of various sizes, arranging them in an open circle and inspecting the results. "It has not rained for at least a week," she said. "We must be careful with a fire, of course, but there is sufficient twigs and dry leaves to serve as tinder."

Tugging her shoes back on so her feet wouldn't swell, Ashley got up and began helping. "I miss my Unicorn horn! I mean, it wouldn't be any use against these creepoids, they don't have gralic powers. But I just don't feel myself without the horn on my back."

"This is acceptable," Megan said, referring to the rocks they had set up with tinder in the center opening. "It would be most expedient to use the thermal beam to start the fire."

"Uh-UH!" Unicorn put in. "No, no, no. Sable said no KDF gadgets, no Trom super-science, none of that stuff. We are supposed to assume we are being watched right now by flesh-eating psychoes. They look at my legs and think, hey that girl has got some nice drumsticks..."

Megan raised one eyebrow at that simile. Unicorn's sense of humor still puzzled her. Taking a mundane cigarette lighter from one pocket, she lit some of the tinder, breathed on it until the fire caught and then started adding larger twigs. Ashley had gathered larger dead branches and stacked them up nearby.

In a low voice, the Trom Girl said, "I do not understand the appeal of this cult we are seeking. Isn't cannibalism one of the strongest taboos in any culture?"

"Yeah, well, you know what they say. If Nature didn't want us to eat other people, why are they made out of meat?" Seeing the horrified expression on Megan's face, Ashley groaned. "It's a JOKE, honey! I swear, I need to ring a bell before every joke or pun or figure of speech with you."

Megan came over and sat down next to the blonde. "I see why Sable teams us up so frequently, then. She wants me to learn colloquialisms from you."

"Also, you desperately need to loosen up a bit. I know you were brought up by a bunch of deadpan scientists, but honestly. Hey, as long as that fire is going, we should grill some meat. I've got this dried jerky in my pack..." Ashley dug around and came up with a vaccuum-sealed packet of prepared meat. "Come on, let's impale it on some sticks. I'm starving."

The Trom Girl joined her in moistening some of the jerkey with water from their canteens and then holding the meat over the flames. "It smells tempting," she admitted. "I did not realize how hungry I was."

"Not as good as human flesh, of course..."

"You are still making cannibal jokes?" the Trom Girl said. "What do you know of this Shiloh Veele person?"

Ashley paused to nibble a bit on the sizzling meat. "Oh, man, all the salt and preservatives! Love it. Yeah, Shiloh Veele. He's the reason this cult is getting some notoriety. He's actually a Hollywood celebrity, maybe not a genuine superstar but certainly well known. And he has been tied up with cannibal rumors for a year now."

The Trom Girl did not comment, being preoccupied with sampling a bite of the sizzling jerky on a stick. She was normally on a strictly planned diet and often seemed eager to find excuses to break her regimen.

"Now, I don't see where he's so hot," Unicorn went on. "To me, he looks kinda girly. But he had two series on the Disney Channel and some concert tours and stuff, and apparently twelve-year-olds lose their minds over him. Go figure. And then the rumors started."

Megan glanced over curiously. "Is this cannibal cult public knowledge?"

"Not really, just show biz gossip. You know, this producer is a pedophile and that actress snorts Drano, you know, the usual. Everyone thinks it's kind of a publicity riff, maybe he has a new horror movie coming out? But our captain thinks otherwise."

By now, it was getting dark enough that the stars were becoming visible overhead. It was a clear October night without clouds and only a sliver of a crescent moon on the horizon. "We should unroll our blankets and settle in, eh?"

"Yes, I agree," the Trom Girl said absently. "Ashley, you are very brave by Human standards. We are deliberately placing our selves in a dangerous situation which most would find horrifying and you are relaxed enough to wisecrack."

The little blonde started digging in her knapsack and came up with some chewing gum. "Aw, I was raised to be the second Unicorn by my mom. She had me running around in other realms and tangling with all kinds of monsters as soon as I could walk. Want a stick? It's sugarless."

Megan stood up smoothly, head cocked to one side. "Something is approaching from the west. Forty meters away, moving slowly. I judge it is a Human attempting to be stealthy but the dry vegetation makes that difficult."

The Unicorn came over to stand next to her, hiking up her jeans over her narrow hips. "Great. Now remember, we're supposed to be helpless widdle girls and not the world-class fighting machines we are."

With an increasing rustle, a rather short and slightly built young man broke the brush. "Hello! Hi, maybe you ladies can help me?" He was wearing hiking boots, camo pants and a baggy white-shirt. Curly brown hair and a bland, friendly face added to the harmless impression he made.

"Yeah, that's what guys always ask," Ashley scoffed. Then, as the man stepped closer, she grinned. "Shiloh Veele? Really? Out here in the wilderness?" She suddenly grabbed her friend by the arm. "Don't you see the blood on his face? My God, there's blood everywhere!"

( the rest of the story )

"Three Witch Queens"

4/22-4/23/2000

I.

At twenty after nine, a dying woman sprawled on the stoop of the old stone building on East 38th Street in Manhatttan. Dark blood seeped out from her chest onto the steps beneath her.

As she had stumbled onto the steps, proximity alarms had sounded in the headquarters buildings and its occupants had gone on alert. Within a few seconds, the massive front door swung open and a tall thin man dressed in black appeared. Jeremy Bane scooped up the wounded woman and was back inside the foyer, the door closing behind him, so quickly that any passerby might have missed the movement. Passing through the foyer into the front hall, Bane carried her into the open doorway of the KDF's emergency room and lowered her onto one of the three regulation hospital beds. All six members of his team had been in the building and were gathering in the doorway to watch.

"Keep back but stand by for instructions," the Dire Wolf snapped. Under heavy dark brows, the grey eyes were more intense than ever. Bane snatched a pair of blue latex gloves from a box fastened to the wall just inside the door. "The bleeding first. Megan! Insert a standard saline IV into the back of her hand, then take a sample to determine her blood type." He ripped her coarse wool tunic open to reveal the upper torso. "Three vertical incisions, deep, knife wounds I'd say. Upper chest and abdomen. Let's clean it up a little with some gauze. Sheng! Call the clinic next door and see if Dr Wright has left yet. I know he had overnight duty at Metro."

"Yes, captain."

As Bane worked, he said, "Two of these wounds aren't bad but the third is deeper. Looks like it might have nicked a lung. Megan, we need a nasal oxygen clip."

As the Trom girl complied, fastening the clear plastic clip in the woman's nose and turning on the oxygen, she said, "Her blood checks as type O, nothing significantly strange about it. She is a Melgar."

"That's good," Bane said as he worked. "Stronger than Human, better able to deal with injury. Melgarin are as tough as they come."

"Dr Wright answered, he's on his way," Sheng called from the doorway.

"Good. I've got combat medic training but this is a bit serious for me to handle," Bane said. "The bleeding's under control. I don't see where any arteries were compromised. Megan, how are her vitals?"

Without being instructed, the Trom Girl had swung a monitor screen overhead and lowered it to face level. It took readings without the necessity for attached leads. "Everything looks acceptable, captain. Pulse fast but steady. Blood pressure low but within norms. Brain wave patterns are agitated but that's understandable. EKG reading coming up... it's erratic. She is in shock, after all."

"I think her main problem now is loss of blood," the Dire Wolf said as he peeled off the latex gloves and went to a stainless steel sink to scrub his hands with hot water. "Team, a wounded Melgar at our door means a crisis. I want everyone in full field suits and ready for immediate action. Report to the conference room in five minutes. All except you, Sable, your powers might be needed for the interrogation."

The front door swung inward and Bane's closest friend, his most trusted ally in the Midnight War, hurried in. Thaddeus James Wright was a middle-aged black man with heavy, sad features and a beard well sprinkled with grey. Even though he knew how well the KDF emergency ward was stocked, he had automatically brought his satchel.

"Ted!" said Bane from just inside the emergency room. "Glad you could make it. You've met Sable, I think."

"A few times," the Blue Guide said. He immediately moved over to inspect the woman in the regulation bed, studying her with dark eyes that had an inexplicable blue glint in their depths. He made the deep "Hmmm" sound of doctors through the ages.

As Bane explained the situation in detail, Wright began his own examination. His Tel Shai art of Kerwandu enabled him to perceive weakness or injury in living beings and to use gralic force to strengthen those areas. This was what made him such a highly valued diagnostician in the metropolitan area. Watching him from arm's length, Sable was fascinated. She knew that Ted Wright had been a founding member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation twenty years earlier and that he was one of only three to still survive. She knew that he was in fact an actual doctor, an MD specializing in trauma surgery and recently used for quick diagnoses by a half dozen hospitals and clinics. Sable was immensely taken by Wright's air of competence and assurance, and she was further impressed seeing how Bane visibly relaxed when the Blue Guide took over responsibility.

After a few more minutes, Wright straightened up and rubbed his chin somberly. "She's out of immediate danger, Jeremy. You did all the right things under the circumstances. Let me see the X-Rays."

"No X-Rays yet," Bane answered. "I was relying on the Trom sensor scans."

"Even better. I know this is going to be a waste of time, old friend, but have you called the police? Is an ambulance on the way?"

"You know better than that," Bane said. "Our treaty with Androval, remember? Any Melgar renegades we capture get repatriated to Androval as soon as possible. If a hospital got hold of her, she would never be released because she can't possibly be identified. We'd have to abduct her at some point for repatriation... or King Holmir would send a squad of Melgar swordsmen to fetch her."

A sharpness crept into Wright's voice. "Aside from the limited medical care she can receive here, there's the law to consider. I know we're working under Midnight War ethics, Jeremy, but still...."

"Ted, this is serious. She came here wounded, desperate to warn us about something. All my instincts say that something big and dangerous in underway. We need to find out why. Sable here has enhanced senses. She can read eye movements under closed lids, smell chemical traces in perspiration and detect subvocal tremors. I want her standing by when we question this Melgar."

"What? This woman is not in any condition to be interrogated."

"It's my call. We have to find out why she came here. Stabbed and fading fast, she still forced herself here to KDF headquarters. Whatever she wanted to tell us, it must be critical. The Midnight War is still on, Ted."

"I don't like it... but I know you're right." The Blue Guide shook his head and held up his hands in angry resignantion. "In effect, we work under battlefield conditions. All right. Let's get it over with."

As Sable and Bane stood nearby, Wright bent over the unconscious woman and drew on his mystic discipline. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply in a Tel Shai pattern, his hands folded in front of his chest in a prayer gesture. Pale blue light shimmered around the woman in a beautiful nimbus. She sighed and mumbled, "Witch Queens..."

"Yes," the Blue Guide said soothingly, "Tell us all about the Witch Queens."

Four minutes later, Wright placed the woman into a deep, healing sleep which would last for hours. He rubbed his eyes and turned to Bane. "Your new team sure has its work cut out for it, Jeremy."

"They'll step up," the Dire Wolf said. "We have no choice. Are you coming in on this, Ted?"

"I can't," answered the Blue Guide in a heavy tone. "I have to get back to Metropolitan General. I have patients there, it's a responsibilty I took. In any case, this task calls for fighters. I'll send my Kerwandu student Lexi here to watch over the patient until I can return."

"Lexi's a good person," Bane admitted. "I guess she'll be taking over for you at some point."

Wright nodded, still gazing down somberly at the patient sleeping in front of them. "We arrange for our successors. Just as you have done. I have faith in your six newcomers, Jeremy... even though they look like children to me at this point."

"I know, I know. Thanks for everything, old friend. You've done more good than the world can ever know."

Wright adusted his smock, took a deep weary breath and started for the door. "Say, where is Cindy, anyway? She could be checking this woman's mental state."

"Cin is staying at Tel Shai for a while," Bane said. "Until the new team is launched. She said her telepathy would be constantly helping them and they'd never be ready to stand on their own."

"She knows what she's talking about. As always." Wright finally put a hand on the door jamb and stepped out into the hall. "I'll be sending Lexi here to take over. It'll be a few hours before I can return."

The Dire Wolf joined him in the front hall. "Thanks again, Ted. I have to go send the new kids on their assignment right now, we don't have any time to spare." With that, even as the Blue Guide saw himself out, Bane rushed up the wide staircase to the second floor where the conference room waited.


( the rest of the story )