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"Fear Has Many Faces"
May. 17th, 2022 02:44 pm"Fear Has Many Faces"
October 3, 1979-
I.
At ten minutes after eight, Jeremy Bane stepped into the conference room. He was wearing the black turtleneck and sport jacket and slacks which were his trademark. So much had to be done here yet. The long polished oak table had been there when he took ownership of the building, as had been the ten heavy straight back chairs that lined it. One wall was taken up with reference books and filing cabinets; another had two tall windows looking down on East 38th Street. There were two lockers he had brought up to hold his field suits, and a refrigerated cabinet at the far end held drinks and snacks. But he wanted to add more equipment, particularly communication equipment.
The Dire Wolf moved to the windows and held the heavy curtains aside. it was raining. He stood looking down at traffic, thinking that Kenneth Dred had been dead for barely two months now. It had been an uneventful passing, an old man's heart stopping in his sleep. They had already discussed what would happen, the will had been made out and transfer of property had been uncontested because there was no family. Bane was now wealthy, but it did not register. He now had millions in his bank account, when two years earlier he had owned only what he could carry. The Dire Wolf folded his arms, lost in thought. He did not grieve for Kenneth Dred as much as he had thought he would, but maybe it had not sunk in yet. Maybe he was just unfeeling. The old man had been failing for the past year. Perhaps that was another reason he had taken Bane on as a protege and heir.
At only twenty-two, the grim young man with pale eyes and cold demanor had taken on a huge responsibility. He was glad, though, it felt like something he had always been meant to do. The more he learned about the Midnight War, the more he was determined to assemble a group that could handle its menace. As an orphan of the streets, he had been offered membership in various gangs of thugs and racketeers but had always declined and worked alone. Now he would have his own gang, but one like nothing this city had ever seen.
Standing there, he felt a vague tickling in his thoughts that he was coming to recognize. He turned his head and saw Cindy in the doorway. A pretty blonde a little more than a year younger than himself, she had an impudent face, dark blue eyes and a wide grin. Cindy was dressed much more formally than usual, wearing navy blue slacks, an off-white blouse and a thin blue cardigan. Bane nodded to her, "Good morning."
"The BEST morning," she answered. "Don't try to hide your excitement, you've got a telepath in your life now."
"We agreed, no mind-reading without permission."
She came over to stand next to him, almost leaning up against his shoulder. "I know. I'll be good. Oh, I love my room. It's twice as big as my apartment down on Crampton Street, that was almost a closet."
"Here they start to come," said Bane, pointing outside. She leaned over to look out the window, deliberately pressing one soft breast against his arm. Down in the street, two men were walking up to the front door. They let themselves in and a moment later ascended to the stairs to the second floor and came into the conference room. Michael Hawk was the only KDF member known to the general public, a famous criminologist and manhunter from a family of crimefighters. Now hitting sixty, there was grey in his brown hair and his square face was lined but he still moved with confidence and authority. He was wearing a neat topcoat over a black business suit, with white shirt and dark maroon tie. "Hi, you two."
"Mike. Ted. Glad to see you."
Entering with Hawk was a tall black man with a sad heavy face and short beard. He wore a beige raincoat over a plain white dress shirt and dark slacks. Ted Wright was a Blue Guide, master of the Tel Shai healing art, and a man who took everything too seriously for his own good. He nodded to Bane and Cindy.
The blonde telepath came over to held them hang up their coats. She was helpful and gregarious by nature. "You guys look like you're freezing. Don't you think coffee is a good idea?" She seized Ted Wright by the arm and dragged him downstairs to the kitchen. "Come on, I need help not to burn it."
Left with Hawk, Bane said, "Mike, thanks again for helping me get my PI license. It'll be a big help."
Hawk grinned his crooked smile and came over to look out the window with him. "You had no documentation, Jeremy. Nothing. Not even a library card. I got you what you need but it's up to you to hold onto them. Not the first forged IDs I've created but I hope you put them to good use."
"Oh, I will," said the Dire Wolf. "You won't be sorry. Mr Dred told me you were the master in the fields of crimefighting and I should learn everything you want to teach."
Before Hawk could answer, Cindy and Wright entered with two pewter trays of mugs, sugar, milk and a huge coffee pot. Wright was smiling and more relaxed than when he had tentatively entered that building. Cindy had that effect. As they moved over to the conference table and started pouring and drinking, Bane was the one who abstained. With his enhanced metabolism, he needed to avoid caffeine.
Leonard Slade appeared in the doorway. He was very well dressed in a tailored dark blue suit. Slade was a Trom, without emotion but more intelligent than Humans in a scientific sense. His greeting was formal and polite, as he took a seat and waited. Bane watched him thoughtfully. He had met Slade not long earlier and they worked well together because they had common goals. But the Trom were sure cold fish.
Now it was nearly nine. A taxi door slammed outside in the street, they heard footsteps up the stairs and Dr Lawrence Taper hurried in, habitually late, his topcoat over one arm. "Hello! Hello, everybody!" Taper was not as imposing or dignified as the other KDf members. He was maybe five foot ten and solid in build, with a roundish face and short dark brown hair. Sometimes he had his glasses on but not now.
"Well, that just leaves Khang-" Bane started to say. He was interrupted by an explosion of white light in the hall outside and a peal of thunder. As the members jumped and one or two cursed at the sudden surprise, a huge form filled the doorway. Khang stood well over seven feet tall, bundled in a long coat, with a wide-brimmed slouch hat, wraparound sunglasses and muffler hiding as much as possible. Yet a gleam of silver could be spotted here and there when he moved.
"We are well met, my comrades," he rumbled in a deep voice that seemed to come from every direction. "Honored I am to join such illustrious knights."
"Glad to have you," said the Dire Wolf. He moved over to the head of the table. "Now if everyone will take a seat, we can begin. I call the first meeting of the Kenneth Dred Foundation to order."
( the rest of the story )
October 3, 1979-
I.
At ten minutes after eight, Jeremy Bane stepped into the conference room. He was wearing the black turtleneck and sport jacket and slacks which were his trademark. So much had to be done here yet. The long polished oak table had been there when he took ownership of the building, as had been the ten heavy straight back chairs that lined it. One wall was taken up with reference books and filing cabinets; another had two tall windows looking down on East 38th Street. There were two lockers he had brought up to hold his field suits, and a refrigerated cabinet at the far end held drinks and snacks. But he wanted to add more equipment, particularly communication equipment.
The Dire Wolf moved to the windows and held the heavy curtains aside. it was raining. He stood looking down at traffic, thinking that Kenneth Dred had been dead for barely two months now. It had been an uneventful passing, an old man's heart stopping in his sleep. They had already discussed what would happen, the will had been made out and transfer of property had been uncontested because there was no family. Bane was now wealthy, but it did not register. He now had millions in his bank account, when two years earlier he had owned only what he could carry. The Dire Wolf folded his arms, lost in thought. He did not grieve for Kenneth Dred as much as he had thought he would, but maybe it had not sunk in yet. Maybe he was just unfeeling. The old man had been failing for the past year. Perhaps that was another reason he had taken Bane on as a protege and heir.
At only twenty-two, the grim young man with pale eyes and cold demanor had taken on a huge responsibility. He was glad, though, it felt like something he had always been meant to do. The more he learned about the Midnight War, the more he was determined to assemble a group that could handle its menace. As an orphan of the streets, he had been offered membership in various gangs of thugs and racketeers but had always declined and worked alone. Now he would have his own gang, but one like nothing this city had ever seen.
Standing there, he felt a vague tickling in his thoughts that he was coming to recognize. He turned his head and saw Cindy in the doorway. A pretty blonde a little more than a year younger than himself, she had an impudent face, dark blue eyes and a wide grin. Cindy was dressed much more formally than usual, wearing navy blue slacks, an off-white blouse and a thin blue cardigan. Bane nodded to her, "Good morning."
"The BEST morning," she answered. "Don't try to hide your excitement, you've got a telepath in your life now."
"We agreed, no mind-reading without permission."
She came over to stand next to him, almost leaning up against his shoulder. "I know. I'll be good. Oh, I love my room. It's twice as big as my apartment down on Crampton Street, that was almost a closet."
"Here they start to come," said Bane, pointing outside. She leaned over to look out the window, deliberately pressing one soft breast against his arm. Down in the street, two men were walking up to the front door. They let themselves in and a moment later ascended to the stairs to the second floor and came into the conference room. Michael Hawk was the only KDF member known to the general public, a famous criminologist and manhunter from a family of crimefighters. Now hitting sixty, there was grey in his brown hair and his square face was lined but he still moved with confidence and authority. He was wearing a neat topcoat over a black business suit, with white shirt and dark maroon tie. "Hi, you two."
"Mike. Ted. Glad to see you."
Entering with Hawk was a tall black man with a sad heavy face and short beard. He wore a beige raincoat over a plain white dress shirt and dark slacks. Ted Wright was a Blue Guide, master of the Tel Shai healing art, and a man who took everything too seriously for his own good. He nodded to Bane and Cindy.
The blonde telepath came over to held them hang up their coats. She was helpful and gregarious by nature. "You guys look like you're freezing. Don't you think coffee is a good idea?" She seized Ted Wright by the arm and dragged him downstairs to the kitchen. "Come on, I need help not to burn it."
Left with Hawk, Bane said, "Mike, thanks again for helping me get my PI license. It'll be a big help."
Hawk grinned his crooked smile and came over to look out the window with him. "You had no documentation, Jeremy. Nothing. Not even a library card. I got you what you need but it's up to you to hold onto them. Not the first forged IDs I've created but I hope you put them to good use."
"Oh, I will," said the Dire Wolf. "You won't be sorry. Mr Dred told me you were the master in the fields of crimefighting and I should learn everything you want to teach."
Before Hawk could answer, Cindy and Wright entered with two pewter trays of mugs, sugar, milk and a huge coffee pot. Wright was smiling and more relaxed than when he had tentatively entered that building. Cindy had that effect. As they moved over to the conference table and started pouring and drinking, Bane was the one who abstained. With his enhanced metabolism, he needed to avoid caffeine.
Leonard Slade appeared in the doorway. He was very well dressed in a tailored dark blue suit. Slade was a Trom, without emotion but more intelligent than Humans in a scientific sense. His greeting was formal and polite, as he took a seat and waited. Bane watched him thoughtfully. He had met Slade not long earlier and they worked well together because they had common goals. But the Trom were sure cold fish.
Now it was nearly nine. A taxi door slammed outside in the street, they heard footsteps up the stairs and Dr Lawrence Taper hurried in, habitually late, his topcoat over one arm. "Hello! Hello, everybody!" Taper was not as imposing or dignified as the other KDf members. He was maybe five foot ten and solid in build, with a roundish face and short dark brown hair. Sometimes he had his glasses on but not now.
"Well, that just leaves Khang-" Bane started to say. He was interrupted by an explosion of white light in the hall outside and a peal of thunder. As the members jumped and one or two cursed at the sudden surprise, a huge form filled the doorway. Khang stood well over seven feet tall, bundled in a long coat, with a wide-brimmed slouch hat, wraparound sunglasses and muffler hiding as much as possible. Yet a gleam of silver could be spotted here and there when he moved.
"We are well met, my comrades," he rumbled in a deep voice that seemed to come from every direction. "Honored I am to join such illustrious knights."
"Glad to have you," said the Dire Wolf. He moved over to the head of the table. "Now if everyone will take a seat, we can begin. I call the first meeting of the Kenneth Dred Foundation to order."
( the rest of the story )
