dochermes

"Whatever Happened To the Green Devil?"

3/22-3/29/2005

I.

March 25, 1945

Late at night through a deserted back area on Long Island's easternmost end, a white delivery van wheeled along at reckless sped along rain-slicked roads. Both sides of the van had VAN ETTEN'S FARMS painted in swirling red letters with the stylized outline of a chicken and a pyramid of eggs depicted. Each week, the van was repainted. Previously, it had read ISLAND FURNITURE REPAIR and before that, QUICK-FIX PLUMBING AND HEATING. New plates went on more often than that.

At the wheel was the colorful figure of Victory Eagle and next to him, one elbow out of the passenger window, sat the Green Devil. It was the first time they had met. Both were used to operating solo but orders from the War Department had been persuasive.

"This is not half bad," Green Devil said, pulling her arm back in and turning the crank to raise the window. "Both our motorcycles fit in the rear and we can check out the area without being obvious. I should buy something similar, maybe a panel truck. Not that I could afford it..."

"Yes. Well, we are amazingly conspicuous in these ridiculous costumes," grumbled the Victory Eagle. He was a tall, remarkably athletic man whose impressive physique was concealed by a tight silk outfit of bright blue pullover shirt and tights. Red leather gloves and boots, as well as a wide belt of red leather, added another primary color. All but the lower half of his face beneath the nose was concealed by a snug blue hood with two eye holes and a small white eagle symbol like the NRA emblem. Across the muscular chest was emblazoned a much larger three-quarter view version of the eagle in flight, its wings spread and its talons clenched as ready to strike. The red, white and blue motif was appropriate.

Seeing how Green Devil was checking him out, Victory Eagle flashed a Hollywood-perfect array of chalk-white teeth. With that smile and the square chin and straight nose, what showed under the mask seemed to indicate quite a handsome specimen. "This wasn't my idea. Apparently, mystery-men in flamboyant uniforms are all the rage these days. I was happy as a spy smasher in regular duds."

"I feel a bit drab next to you," she admitted. She was a slender, supple figure all in dark colors. The tight pants and snug short leather jacket were midnight green, while the high boots and cuff-length gloves were black, as was the white-outlined symbol of a trident on the back of her jacket. The young woman had on a green motorcycle helmet with short curved horns of hard steel fastened up by its temples. As she had been riding along, Green Devil had eventually unfastened the strap under her chin and tugged the helmet off. To Eagle's obvious disappointment, underneath the helmet was a black silk bandana which had been fashioned into a mask.

From under the back of the bandana, strands of brick-red hair, fine-textured, had escaped to trail down her neck. Kelly O'Connor was wearing dark lipstick which helped conceal the full contours of her lips, but that snub upturned nose and the brilliant green eyes still showed.

Getting a good look at her as they rolled past a corner street lamp, Victory Eagle laughed. "A bit Irish, eh?"

"Astounding! Eh, not much deduction required for that, Eagle. I worked up this get-up mostly because I was inspired by the other heroes I read about in the newspapers. Mark Drum, Sulak, the Sting and his Dragon of Midnight pal, but especially the Sceptre. She's a hot number all right, taking out one Axis spy ring after another."

"I met the Sceptre not long ago," Eagle said. "I asked her why she hasn't given that weapon to the government so it could be mass-produced. If each of our soldiers was carrying a Sceptre, we'd be strolling through Berlin and Tokyo today. But she said it could not be duplicated and efforts to do so had only resulted in explosions that killed everyone nearby."

"Too bad," sighed Green Devil. "Still, we do what we can with what we have. Hey! Here's the crossroads Major Duberson told us about. Quarreyville Road."

"We turn left here," the Eagle agreed as he eased the van off the narrow back road, up under a pair of elms "Three miles to the target. Maybe here is a good place to switch to our bikes."

"Yeah, that works," Green Devil said. She was wiping the face plate of her helmet with a soft cloth. She lowered it over her head and fastened the strap again. "The Major thinks tonight's job is as important as opening the Second Front, but he over reacts to everything."

When he got out of the van, Victory Eagle did not seem at all silly in the colorful outfit. He was such an imposing specimen and he felt himself so straight and confidently that the bright blue and red outfit seemed normal. From behind the driver's seat, he fetched a leather belt with a flap holster which held an Army Colt .45 automatic and he buckled this on. The belt had a few slits on its inner surface to hold keys and other small items, since the Eagle costume had no pockets.

The two vigilantes worked together to open the rear of the van and lower a sturdy board down to reach the ground at a shallow angle. Vaulting nimbly up into the interior, Green Devil untied the straps which had been securing her bike and started it up. She rode a Triumph from England, imported before the war, with a pair of saddle bags in which she kept civilian clothing, a first aid kit, some useful tools and personal items. She had painted the Triumph a slightly brighter green than her costume, still very hard to see in poor light, with the trident symbol emblazoned on the gas tank. There was not enough room to turn her bike around inside the van, so she backed down the ramp gingerly before feeling stable on level ground.

The Eagle's motorcycle was half again larger, a specially modified Harley-Davidson with a storage bin on the back and with a headlight twice as powerful as the normal model. The body had been painted a brilliant red, white and blue to continue his motif. In front of the handlebars was an oval windscreen of dense plexiglass which, although he didn't mention it, was bullet-resistant if not completely safe against high-powered rifle fire.

"Nice toy," muttered Kelly to herself. "Maybe I should sell out to the government, too." As the powerful Harley revved up and tore away, she gunned her Triumph and stayed right behind him. Another exciting adventure of our daring heroine, she thought, using a radio announcer's voice in her imagination, not suspecting it would be the final exploit of the Green Devil.

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