Showcase: Return of the Crimson (Pulp Heroes, Part 1)

[DocQuantum]

The next morning a middle-aged man with brown hair graying at the temples who was dressed in stylish casual wear entered the publisher's office at the Globe-Leader.

"Hey, Lee, have time for an old friend?" the man asked as he walked toward Lee's desk.

"Rod Magnus!" said Lee Travis, rising from his desk. "Long time no see. I don't think I've seen you since the last election. Still advising the Mayor?"

"You know it. I came because of some troubling rumors that have been reaching me the last few days. I was hoping you could clear them up for me."

"You want information? You know the price you have to pay," Lee said, winking his left eye.

"Of course Rebecca can come," Rod replied with a friendly laugh. "I haven't seen her in ages, either."

"I'll call her and let her know that we're going out to lunch early. What do you need to know?"

"I've heard there's a masked man in the city calling himself the Crimson. Was hoping that you'd be able to help me with this new costumed crazy before we have another problem like the Vigilante," Magnus said. Calling the Crimson a costumed crazy struck a nerve in Lee inwardly, but outwardly he was all smiles.

"I haven't heard anything about it, but just because I haven't doesn't mean my reporters haven't. How about we go to lunch, and I'll have my people do their thing?"

"Works for me."

Speaking into the intercom to his editor-in-chief's office, Lee said, "Bob, I've heard a rumor about a new masked man on the streets calling himself the Crimson. Give me everything your people have on this by the time I come back from lunch."

"Will do, Mr. Travis," the man replied over the intercom.

***

"Lee, I don't see how you could take the side of these costumed crazies in your papers. The Batman, Green Arrow, Nightwing and the like are the lesser of those threats. What about those that can actually do major property damage with a single punch, like Superman or Wonder Woman, or that Green Lantern?" asked Rod Magnus, sipping a martini across from Lee and Rebecca Travis at a posh Manhattan restaurant.

"I don't know about some of those 'costumed crazies' as you call them, but I do see the good that they try to do -- and actually do. Look at the Justice League, for example. In most cases they are the only ones capable of dealing with the threats posed by their opposite numbers -- the super-villains, not to mention major threats like extraterrestrial invasions. Whether it's through training, power, or sheer determination, they do the jobs that the police, the FBI, or even the military aren't equipped to handle." Lee hoped his admiration of these super-heroes wasn't too obvious.

"So you're going to keep allowing your paper to print favorable articles about those freaks?"

"I've given my editors the express instructions to print the truth about those super-heroes, to treat them as they were any other story. I encourage them not to be biased, but every so often we have published politically motivated hit pieces on them in the interest of balance."

"The Mayor and I, along with several city councilmen from both parties, are concerned about the arrival of this newest masked vigilante calling himself the Crimson, and are offering a reward for his capture. How can we possibly expect New Yorkers to abide by our reasonable gun-control laws when a lunatic like the Crimson openly carries firearms at his side everywhere he goes?"

"So do gang members and criminals," said Lee. "And those gun laws you mention have never stopped criminals from possessing weapons, only law-abiding citizens. And before you make a remark about me joining up with the Republicans or the NRA, I'll remind you that I've always been a registered independent and support the U.S. Constitution. Call me skeptical, Rod, but how do I know your 'concern' over super-heroes isn't another election-year stunt?"

Ignoring his remark, Magnus shook his head and continued. "I'm asking you, Lee, as one of New York's most upstanding citizens, to add some money to the bounty offered for the Crimson."

"I'll definitely consider it," said Lee Travis, "but only after the Crimson has shown that he actually is a criminal and not a crime-fighter. However, in the interest of fairness and representing all viewpoints, I will allow you to print a guest editorial in my paper."

"It's not enough, but I can see that is all I'm going to get today," replied Magnus. "I'll have a statement for you by the end of the week, Lee."

"Why are you so sure that the Crimson is a criminal, Rod?" asked Rebecca Pierce-Travis.

"Because he has chosen not to operate within the laws of society, Rebecca," said Magnus. "Carrying a gun without a permit is still illegal in this city. Vigilantism itself has always been illegal. By definition, therefore, he is a criminal, no matter how many rival crooks he might hand over to the police."

"Have you ever considered that the only way he can serve justice is by not working within the laws?" she asked.

"That's what the police are for!" retorted Magnus. "And besides, justice is a dream. The law on the books is tangible."

"Let's not be naive, Rod. You and I are both aware of just how much corruption there is in the Police Department, not to mention how slow the typical response times are in some neighborhoods," said Lee. "But tell me, why is justice a dream?"

"Because time and again it has been shown to be an illusion," replied Rod Magnus. "Those who operate outside the law are rarely punished for their crimes. And those who operate within the letter of the law are rarely rewarded for their merits."

"That's a pretty narrow view for the Mayor's chief advisor to have, Rod," Rebecca stated.

"I'm sorry to offend you, Rebecca, but it is true," Magnus said before standing to leave. "Lee, I'm sorry I was so poor a host. It's just that this super-hero issue causes a great deal of emotion for me."

"I understand, but as the owner and publisher of one of New York's major newspapers, I can't let my reporters be biased on any subject, especially the controversial ones."

"I'll call you tomorrow, Lee."

***

Lord Rooster entered the Dragon's Lair with Scorpion and Ripper in tow. Dog walked over to the threesome and said, "I take it your mission has been a failure, Lord Rooster."

"Quite the opposite, Dog. I have a working picture of what the Crimson looks like."

"What are they doing here?" said Dog, indicating the other two as if they couldn't hear him.

"The young lady is taking over the Purple Dragons and needs the brand of Lord Dragon to assert her authority. And Ripper is here to be judged by Lord Dragon. He got into a fight with the Crimson and didn't get anything but beaten up."

Dog acknowledged his words with a nod of his head. "I will announce you to Lord Dragon when he returns. He is out at the moment."

"I need to get back on the streets," complained Rooster, scratching his mop of red hair. "The Crimson is too hot a prize to let escape."

"Lord Rooster, you are crowing before you actually do anything again," Dog said.

"At least I don't snivel and scratch at Lord Dragon's heels liked a whipped mutt."

At that moment, Lord Dragon came striding in and pushed the two aside. "What is Lady Scorpion doing here, Rooster?"

"Do you know her, Lord Dragon?"

"Of course I know her. She's Lord Serpent's daughter."

"I didn't know that, but she got me a composite sketch of the Crimson," replied Rooster sheepishly. "I was thinking of promoting her to the leadership of the Purple Dragons."

"I see," said Lord Dragon, considering the idea. "Make it so, and let me see that picture. Dog, get the brand of leadership heated up. Follow me, Rooster. Lady Scorpion, follow Dog. We are going to make all super-heroes outcasts in New York City and promote the Crimson as public enemy number one."

[DocQuantum]

Chapter 4: Public Enemies

by Christine Nightstar and Doc Quantum

Against Lee Travis' better judgment, the inflammatory guest editorial by Rod Magnus was soon published in New York's premiere tabloid, the Globe-Leader. Magnus began by announcing his resignation from the Mayor's office, as he needed to warn all New Yorkers about a critical issue that affected New York City and many other cities, and could now speak freely in his capacity as an esteemed Manhattan lawyer and concerned citizen.

In this editorial Magnus reminded the public of every life lost and every act of property damage caused by super-hero battles, every time these so-called heroes fell under mind-control and turned against the public, even seizing the reins of government in some cases, and how the rise of super-heroes and super-villains had inevitably brought about an end to peace and security by the sheer fact of their incredible powers alone. They were a law unto themselves, and not even the government would be able to shut down the likes of the Justice League, the New Titans, or the Outsiders if they ever decided to turn against American citizens.

Rod Magnus made the Crimson his editorial's focus, even though little was known about him so far, warning that this masked man targeting gang-bangers for minor crimes while carrying illegal weapons himself was only the latest of the costumed crazies who wielded lethal weapons and dangerous super-powers against the citizens of New York. Those that would inevitably follow might be even worse if he wasn't stopped and made an example of. Offering a substantial reward for the Crimson's capture, Magnus suggested that a temporary ban on all masks and costumes might also be needed in order to make the streets safe again from all unlicensed vigilantes. Later, elected officials could begin the process of having all so-called super-heroes unmasked and fully vetted, allowing only those formally deputized by the Police Department to continue operating. Magnus concluded by urging the City Council to send a message to all such unauthorized vigilantes by declaring the Crimson as public enemy number one.

The editorial had its desired effect on the population of New York and elsewhere. It was picked up by papers in Gotham City, Metropolis, and other cities. The kind of public outcries for the end of unsanctioned super-heroes, not seen since President Reagan's 1986 executive order that had briefly outlawed them, ran rampant across the nation. (*) Within days huge anti-hero protests, rivaling the size of anti-war and anti-nuclear protests of earlier years, arose in every major city that had its own resident heroes. Citizen groups calling for the outlawing and unmasking of costumed crazies were simultaneously formed, and anyone who spoke against these actions were accused of being sympathizers, even if they tried to remain moderate and open-minded about the nation's heroes.

[(*) Editor's note: See Justice League of America: World's Fiercest.]

In the worst cases, New York City businesses that still publicly supported super-heroes had their windows smashed in. Comic-book shops and costume stores were looted, and super-hero costumes were burned in effigy in Central Park and elsewhere. Lawlessness began to run rampant. The NYPD publicly urged all costumed crime-fighters to cease and desist from all public actions until the current crisis was over. The Mayor even instituted a nightly curfew and a temporary ban on all masked or costumed figures in an effort to curtail the ever-growing mob violence.

Public figures known to be associated with super-heroes began to be intimidated in New York and to a lesser extent elsewhere, and many of them were forced to hire bodyguards. Those that couldn't be intimidated, such as Police Commissioner Jim Gordon of Gotham City and other police officers known to work alongside costumed vigilantes, stood by their sturdy records and attempted to use their positions to fight these tactics. New York City Councilwoman Elizabeth Alderman, meanwhile, put forth a bipartisan proposal for a complete ban of all super-heroes in New York City, and support for her bill was quickly growing, while the Mayor promised to support the side that prevailed. A war had begun and was being fought on the streets as well as in the political arenas.

Lincoln Travis was reading about the latest outbreak of this war in New York. "I have to do something about this, Dad. Rod Magnus has lit a bomb that will cause much worse damage if these attacks are left unchecked."

"This isn't a job for the Crimson," his father said. "This is a job for publisher Lee Travis."

"While you use words to fight, I'll take to the streets. The police were already having a hard enough time keeping the lid on street violence before. They need help now more than ever."

"You're a man of courage and conviction, Lincoln, just like I used to be when I was younger. Just be smarter. Don't play into the role of the out-of-control maniac that they've boxed us into."

"I'll do my best, Dad."

"Do better than your best, son."

***

The Dark Racer exploded onto the streets exiting from the Harlem subways. Defying the Mayor's curfew order, the Crimson was back on the streets. Touching the control on his helmet to key it to emergency and police frequencies, he gunned the throttle.

Across town, another motorcycle similarly erupted from another hidden port. Its rider was dressed in a form-fitting dark outfit that covered him from head to toe. The rider also gunned the throttle and was headed in the opposite direction, straight for a confrontation.

***

Police Captain Arthur Hall had seen the editorial's inflammatory effects firsthand, as his whole precinct had become a war zone. He tried to keep the peace as best as he could, but certain facts prevented peace. Titans Tower, for one, was in his precinct's jurisdiction even though it was on a small island in the East River. There were other known super-heroes in the city as well.

Hall had been on the phone with Titans Tower, speaking with the current team leader Artemis the first day after the editorial caused riots. He warned the New Titans leader not to take any actions and to let the police handle everything. Her response was not one of assured compliance as he had wanted, but instead, "Thank you, we'll take that under advisement."

"Just what I need," the African-American police captain muttered to himself after he got off the phone. "More fuel to the fire by a bunch of super-powered amateurs barely out of adolescence!" he said, allowing his anger to get to him; he had always respected the team despite their age.

Fortunately the Titans had so far followed the Mayor's order and had remained in their Tower. Still, he knew there were other wild cards out there, and they wouldn't be nearly as cooperative as the Titans had been over the years he'd known them.

***

Link Travis had heard over the police radio that an incident had started not too far away from where he was. It had begun as a bar-room brawl and had turned into a riot. One cop was down, while another was waiting for help from the SWAT team. The dispatcher said that no squad cars were available.

"This is the Crimson," Link broke in. "I'll be at that position in under three minutes, if the officer can last that long."

"What? Whoever you are, this is a police emergency frequency only."

"Do you need help or not?" Link responded.

"We do, yes!" interrupted the entrenched officer. It was a female voice. "I'm at--"

"I heard your position before. On the way," Link said, and gunned the Dark Racer again. I should've taken the sedan, he thought. I didn't count on needing to pick up anyone.

With flips of corresponding switches, Link armed the Racer's nonlethal measures: smoke clouds, oil slicks, and caltrops. The oil slick with the nitrous flare-out would present a nice barrier to any crowd when combined with the red smoke.

"Hey, Officer. This is the Crimson. How're you hanging in there?"

"They're rattling the car pretty bad," she replied. "My partner's bleeding worse, and I got cut up when they broke the window."

"Got it. I'm coming around the corner now. I have you in sight."

The Dark Racer roared around the corner loudly, causing everyone to notice and stop what they were doing. Putting the Racer on auto-drive, the Crimson stood up, pulled his guns, and started firing into the ground as he passed the crowds, while the motorcycle ejected a red curtain of smoke. Leaping off the bike, he flipped and continued firing the pistols into the ground. The panicked crowd around the police car backed off quickly as they recognized the outlaw known as the Crimson from his description in the news.

Seventeen shots and nobody hurt. Not bad, Link thought to himself as he holstered his pistols, standing atop the police car. The public's fear of the Crimson is keeping them at bay, too, at least for now.

Touching the Dark Racer's control gauntlet, he commanded it to make a pass between the police car and the crowd using the smoke clouds and the oil slick. The maneuver was executed with precision mere moments later. Drawing the pistol with the last bullet, he fired into the oil slick, which erupted into flame from within the red smoke.

"That should keep them at bay for awhile, Officer... Daniels?" said the Crimson, looking at the officer's nameplate as he took off his helmet, and tried not to let her notice that he recognized her from years ago. He was thankful that his mask beneath still hid his features. "Let's take a look at your injuries."

"How long will that oil slick burn?" the officer asked.

"Long enough for you to get in the back and let me drive you to the nearest hospital. You're out of the fight tonight."

[DocQuantum]

"Base, recall the Dark Racer and bring the sedan. I'm going to need something with a few more options and armor," the Crimson said into the helmet radio.

"Wondered how long it took you to realize that, Crimson," his mother's voice said over the radio, surprising Link. "Sedan is on the way. Dark Racer is on recall."

"I don't think I'll be able to make that engagement tonight. I'll be busy out here."

"I'll give your condolences to the guests, Crimson. Base out."

The Crimson slid into the shadows of the hospital waiting for the sedan's arrival while avoiding the police. He had recognized Officer Daniels from high school -- Charlene "Charlie" Daniels, one of Link's crowd -- but his fate had already been written when he started training with Master Wing and his father from the age of five. Was Charlie still single? Maybe he'd call his old friend while she was in the hospital tomorrow.

Link's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the sedan. Crimson headlights and a dark matte black finish set it apart from the police cars going in and out of the hospital. Exiting the shadows, he entered the sedan only to see his father sitting at the driver's side within, dressed in a familiar three-piece suit, fedora, domino mask, and crimson cloak, with his trusty gas-gun at his side.

"I didn't know you could drive, Dad," Link joked. "Master Wing's going to be mad if you get red dust all over his seat."

"Couldn't let you go out alone, son," said the original Crimson Avenger, ignoring the quip. "Your mother would kill me if I let you die."

"So what's your excuse for missing her party?"

"I'm supposed to be at the office for another hour."

"So we have two hours before you're expected? Fun."

***

The Purple Dragons had bitten off more than they could chew. Twenty of them had tried to take on a strangely dressed man who had interrupted a drug-distribution operation. He wore a full-body purple jumpsuit with orange gloves, boots, and full-face orange mask emblazoned with a spider motif. Five of them had been shot and incapacitated in the initial attack, while two more were badly injured trying to flank the infamous vigilante who preyed upon drug dealers. The Black Spider had them pinned down and showed no signs of letting up until every last one was dead.

The sedan had picked up the sounds of gunfire, and the Crimson was on his way to check it out via the rooftops. He recognized the form-fitting outfit from his crime files as a member of Batman's seemingly endless rogues gallery, but with a twist. The Black Spider didn't consider himself a true criminal at all, but a vigilante with a tragic past who targeted drug dealers. He was originally from Gotham City, but was known to travel wherever he could track down his prey.

"Great. The Purple Dragons are being massacred by the Black Spider," Link said into his communicator to the sedan. "He's got them pinned down in a dead-end alley."

"I'm as close as I can get, but if you can send a marker, I might be able to draw some fire for you."

"I don't want to try that yet, but keep the engine warm in case we have to beat a retreat."

As another Purple Dragon went down, a shuriken flew and struck the Black Spider's gun.

"I agree that these punks may deserve a good ass-kicking, Spider, but they don't deserve to end up on a coroner's slab. You are the Black Spider, right?"

The Black Spider looked up and saw the Crimson standing on the fire escape across the way from him. "The Purple Dragons are pushers, and pushers deserve death -- as do those who shield them," replied the Spider. He now shifted targets and fired at Link, who dodged each bullet as if it was moving in slow motion. "Impressive display of timing and reflexes, stranger."

"You're faster than these punks, Spider -- it's a bit harder to avoid your shots," the Crimson said as he came closer to the Black Spider. The Spider holstered his guns, but Link kept his eyes on him at all times.

"Purple Dragons, I'd run off now, if you know what's good for you!" the Crimson yelled back at the punks, who were gathering up the injured gang members.

One of them tried to grab a suitcase full of money, but a couple of shots from the Crimson's revolver scared him off. "Leave the cash and drugs right there! Call it the price for saving your squandered lives!"

"You're willing to take their punishment?" the Black Spider asked.

"Not exactly, but I'm willing to make sure that you don't kill anyone tonight," the Crimson said as he stepped back, dodging a dart fired from the Spider's glove.

The Black Spider quickly shot another dart, but this time it was caught in Link's chain. The Crimson tried to hit the Spider with the weights at the end of the chain, only to miss. The Black Spider had found a combatant at least his equal on the streets in the Crimson. The battle raged on for several minutes, with neither crime-fighter giving ground to the other.

"Why are you protecting these drug-dealing scum?" the Black Spider demanded.

"Because they don't deserve the fast, easy death that you like to deal out!" the Crimson said, his words causing the Spider to pause.

"What do you mean by the 'fast, easy death' I deal out?"

"If you were half as smart as the tabloids say you are, Spider, you'd know what I mean." The Crimson untangled the knife from his chain and started to wrap it around his arm. "I know your story, Eric. You were a drug addict, and it made you do some horrible things. But you also cleaned up your act and began fighting drug dealers."

"Just who are you, stranger, and why do you think you know so much about me?"

"I'm the Crimson, and I know something about drug addiction."

The Spider laughed derisively. "You know nothing about what I've gone through, whitey. So you're the same Crimson who has the Purple Dragons all worked up, huh? Based on the description on the news about this public enemy number one, I was expecting someone more... fearsome."

"I may not be the Batman, but I can scare a bunch of street punks plenty bad."

"I'll be watching you, Crimson."

"If you really want to help the city right now, keep a low profile, Spider. Your brand of justice gives all of us a bad name, and right now that's one thing we don't need. It's a shame, though. You could be one of the best if you didn't insist on killing all your targets."

"Drug pushers will be punished for what they do -- by my hand."

"Even if the punishment exceeds the crime?"

"Yes."

"Unless you change your course, I think you're going to have a short career and an even shorter life, Spider."

"My life is already over."

The Crimson didn't ask what the Black Spider meant by that last comment. He already knew, but nodded in acknowledgement and started to back away. The Spider walked over to his motorcycle, got on, and gunned the throttle. Passing by the suitcase full of cash, he picked it up, then threw a thermite bomb at the bags of drugs in the middle of the street where they'd been dropped, igniting them immediately.

"I see you made an ally, son," Lee said as Link entered the sedan.

"I don't think I'd call him an ally, though I'm certain his attacks weren't meant to kill me. He's dead inside and knows it. Eric Needham 'died' years ago when the incident that caused him to don an outfit like that happened, and ended up accidentally killing his own father when he was a junkie robbing a liquor store. After spending years in prison, he took up the identity of the Black Spider and began killing drug-dealers. Batman put an end to that more than once. (*) He has a strong sense of justice that's been horribly twisted by that event, but also great potential to do good if given the right motivation. Let's just call him... a kindred soul."

[(*) Editor's note: See "Death-Web," Detective Comics #463 (September, 1976) and "The Doomsday Express," Detective Comics #464 (October, 1976).]

"Do you think he can be trusted?"

Link looked at the chain on his arm and found a tracer on it. "No more than I trust anyone. Let's put this where he'll have fun retrieving it."

"I think I know just the place," his father replied. "Our next destination."

***

Rod Magnus sat in his lair, looking out over the city through the window. "No matter how much those costumed freaks try to help, Nathan, they will only prove me correct by showing that they're unstable lawbreakers."

"Perfect," said his visitor, a tall, broad-shouldered blond man wearing an expensive business suit. "I'm following through on my end of the bargain, as you can see with all the delicious helter skelter in this city. But tell me, Rod, what do you plan to do as a follow-up? We wouldn't want these riots to die out before our plans have come to complete fruition, would we?"

Clasping his hands together with his two pointer fingers extended, Magnus brought them close to his lips in thought. "Well, I doubt that Lee Travis will be willing to publish a follow-up editorial after this."

"Aha, but I'm sure that an anonymous letter to the editor to every major newspaper might have the intended effect," added his visitor.

"That's a brilliant idea, Nathan. I'll get my people on that right away," said Magnus. Leaning over his desk, he hit the button on the intercom and said, "Dog? Come in here, please."

"I will take my leave now," said the figure calling himself Nathan Nero as he vanished into the ether like a devilish Cheshire Cat.

A moment later, Dog entered the room, sniffing in confusion as he caught a whiff of brimstone. "Master, you called?"

Magnus looked at him and said, "Get the Wordsmith working on a letter to the editor -- something complementary to the editorial that has the city and the whole East Coast up in arms against these costumed crazies."

"Yes, Lord Dragon. The other Immortals are awaiting us in the council chamber. Shall we join them?"

"Yes, let us join them. Where are my council robes?"

"In the wardrobe, sir."

"You're never seen without your council robes, yet they never seem to get dirty. I must know your secret to that trick, Dog," Lord Dragon said as he donned the council robes over his business suit.

"We're running late, Lord Dragon. Lord Horse will be calling the council to order soon."

"To each his own secret," Magnus sighed. "I guess that I can understand that, but please tell whoever cleans your council robes to do mine as well."

"I will mention it, sir. Shall we retire to the council chambers now?"

"Yes. Let's go."

[johnreiter902]

I'm glad to see this story back in canon

[DocQuantum]

Yes, and even if you’ve read it before there are several new sections and characters added in the rewrite that weren’t there originally, such as the Black Spider and “Nathan Nero.”

[DocQuantum]

Chapter 5: Through the Night, a Hero
by Christine Nightstar and Doc Quantum

Rebecca Pierce-Travis' party wasn't going as well as she hoped. The only topic of discussion the whole night was one that wasn't on the agenda. It was the subject of whether super-heroes were actually heroes or public menaces with dangerous weapons and powers beyond the ability of the police to handle. Many super-heroes such as Superman, Wonder Woman, and the JLA had loyal followers willing to attest how much they were needed, while others like Batman, Green Arrow, and the Vigilante were sometimes listed as some of the causes of the many problems their cities faced. Wing had to step in several times before the argument got out of control.

It wasn't the way that Rebecca had hoped to kick off the Travis' contribution to the spring social season. She and Wing had spent weeks planning this event to the last detail, arranging food, wine, and entertainment so that she could say that her party was the best of the season.

Try as she might, Rebecca wasn't able to divert the discussion away from super-heroes for more than a few moments. It was especially hard when the sound of sirens could be heard over the music. Rebecca looked out the windows for a moment, closed her eyes, and prayed for Lincoln and Lee who were out in the city.

***

Link Travis had rushed toward a church set aflame by a gang of thugs covering their faces with masks who disagreed with the pastor's views on super-heroes, when he learned there were still some children within. An instant later he was joined by a very tall, dark-haired young woman wearing a red crop-top T-shirt emblazoned with an inverted white triangle, along with black shorts, grey work gloves, and high-top sneakers.

"Guess I'm not the only one who saw the fire," she said, towering over him by several inches.

Link's breath caught in his throat as soon as he caught a good look at her, for this bronze-skinned Amazon rivaled the most gorgeous women he'd ever met in all his years of attending lavish parties. He forced himself to refocus. "There's a preschool age group in the back of the church, and the door's blocked off."

"I heard that as well," she replied. "Who am I working with, by the way?"

"I'm the Crimson. And you are...?"

"Strong," she said, pushing a stray lock of dark curly hair into her red hairband as she peered through the flaming building, looking for the best passage. "Tesla Strong. Now, follow me!" At that, she led with her shoulder and pushed aside a fallen wooden beam blocking the door, allowing them to move inside and toward the rear of the church.

"You certainly are," said an impressed Link, turning and running determinedly after her. As the smoke started getting thicker, Link began coughing even through his mask. Still, he pressed on. Holding her own breath, Tesla glanced back at him in concern as they ran toward the cries of the children and their teacher. Thankfully, there wasn't much smoke in this part of the church.

"We're here to help!" shouted Tesla.

Running toward the rear exit, the Crimson pulled out his sword and made several slashing attacks with it against the rubble that blocked the exit, but he quickly found that the rubble would take too long for him to remove that way. His explosive pistol rounds wouldn't be advisable, either, and he didn't think that the children would be able to get out the way he came.

"Those attacks would have brought down a concrete column, but it just seems that finesse isn't going to work this time," said the Crimson. "Think your charms can move that rubble, beautiful?"

"For someone so notorious, you are a charmer, aren't you?" Tesla said, smiling demurely.

"I call 'em as I see 'em, especially when my date seems to have no trouble moving heavy objects."

Tesla started quickly throwing the rubble to the side. The Crimson started to try to calm the children down, but without much success considering how badly they wanted their mommies and daddies, and needed to go to the bathroom. Shortly the path was cleared to the door, which Tesla quickly pushed open.

"We make a good team, cutie," said Tesla Strong as she donned a pair of flight goggles. "If you ever want to work together again, look me up. You can find me at the Stronghold -- 330 Madison Avenue."

"Uh, right," the Crimson said, and watched as she ran off to a strange-looking vehicle parked nearby. To his astonishment, it wasn't a fancy motorcycle at all, but a highly advanced hovercraft that rose up some thirty feet into the sky before veering off in the direction of Midtown Manhattan.

Taking a moment to walk the children and their teacher over to the ambulance, Link then stumbled in a daze over to the black sedan parked in the shadows, staring into the night sky for any further signs of Tesla.

"Riots and emergency assistance calls are calming down for the night, son," Lee Travis said as Link entered the sedan. "Why don't you call it a night as well?"

"What was that, Dad?"

"Whoa, I haven't seen you this dazed since I first caught you smoking weed when you were sixteen. You okay there, son?"

"I just saw an angel."

"Who was that I saw enter the church with you?" asked Lee.

"She called herself Tesla. Tesla Strong."

[reichsmark]

So it looks like the Tom Strong universe is now part of Earth One. Wonder if that means Nedor characters now exist here. Actually, Nedor and Prize were both at one time part of deals which may or may not have given DC ownership rights to the characters. At least that's my understanding from reading some of the fan sites. I guess its complicated and in any case they have since lapsed into the Public Domain.

[DocQuantum]

Thanks for commenting! I want to note that Tom Strong is going to be used as a stand-in for Doc Savage, and that only select elements of his world will exist on Earth-1. Series such as Top 10, for example, could not work on Earth-1. Also, there is no Millennium City either.

Tom Strong’s family history is relatively intact, but there are some new Doc Savage-inspired details that I’ve added. More in the next post.

[lawrenceliberty]

I think Tom could be a very suitable Doc Savage replacement.  Perhaps, more of the version from the Dc Comic The Terrifics and less of the original Moore version. Moore could present a great silver age tribute and then mess it up with some story elements that would never have fit in a silver age story.

[DocQuantum]

Sept 15, 2022 15:41:22 GMT lawrenceliberty said:

I think Tom could be a very suitable Doc Savage replacement.  Perhaps, more of the version from the Dc Comic The Terrifics and less of the original Moore version. Moore could present a great silver age tribute and then mess it up with some story elements that would never have fit in a silver age story.

I totally agree!

I'll have to read the Terrifics soon for inspiration. I've only read the first issue back when it was first published.

[DocQuantum]

Lee Travis looked momentarily surprised at hearing the name. "Oh, Tom's daughter? I didn't realize the Strongs were back in town."

"You know them?" asked Lincoln Travis.

"Indeed I do. Tom Strong, his wife, his daughter, and his Five Aces were and are all larger than life. I met Tom a few times in my capacity as a newspaper publisher, and also as the Crimson. He was based in New York City in the 1930s, but spent a lot of time on a small Caribbean island close to the Bermuda Triangle where he'd been raised under unusual circumstances to become a 'superman' of sorts, strong in both body and in mind. In World War One he met five other remarkable men, each one an air ace and an ‘ace in the hole’ at critical times, and when the war ended they pooled their talents as mercenaries of sorts, soldiers of fortune. They were adventurers, but their true talents lay in crime-fighting, what with all the criminal gangs they defeated over the years. In those years, Tom split his time between adventures by adding to his education at prestigious universities and expanding upon his knowledge under various teachers in the far corners of the world.

"Of course, Tom Strong never forgot where he'd come from. He returned to Attabar Teru in '31 to marry Dhalua, his native island princess, but decided to keep the marriage a secret for more than a decade so that it wouldn't interfere with his work. Dhalua sometimes accompanied Tom and his friends on adventures, but whenever she did she pretended she was his adoptive sister Dolly Strong, in a situation not unlike Abraham and Sarah in the Old Testament. Some of us in the newspaper business knew all about it, but out of admiration for the man we agreed to never let a word of it slip into the papers, and it never did except for the occasional gossip rag. I still have the postcard from Tom announcing the 1938 birth of his daughter Tesla, named after the scientist whose work Tom admired so much."

"That can't be right!" said Link. "If Tesla was born then, she'd be over twice my age, but the girl I met didn't look a day over twenty!"

"She'd be fifty this year, actually. Perhaps her youthfulness was merely a trick of the light," Lee said with a wink. "But then again, you already know both Wing and I are a lot older than we look. As long as I've known them, the Strongs have always given Dick Clark a run for his money in the eternal youth department."

"You're telling me!" said Link, slumping into his seat, his eyes wide with astonishment. "So was Tom Strong basically a super-hero back then?"

"The papers called him a hero of science or science hero, thanks to his sheer wizardry in every scientific pursuit, but he was essentially an adventurer who lent his service to almost anyone who needed it, often free of charge. He never sought fame, and actively tried to keep his name out of the papers, but he was known in our circles as one of the greatest foes of crime. He was active throughout the 1930s and carried on the fight to the Axis in World War II in his own unique way, both in the Pacific and the European theaters of war.

"But by war's end, Tom Strong had become sickened by the banality of evil he'd seen, not only from the enemy's side -- such as the concentration camps at Auschwitz and Dachau -- but from ours as well. The bombing of Dresden was one example. Allowing the Russians to rape and pillage half of defeated Germany and take all of Eastern Europe as a brutal form of 'war reparations' was another. But what finally got to him was when the atom bomb was used to instantly kill millions of innocents in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He predicted even back then that the military industrial complex would ensure that an endless supply of wars would continue for decades to keep the profits rolling in, all in the name of democracy, consequently with many more deaths to come. Civilization had made him sick to his stomach, and he could no longer stand the compromise. In August of 1945, shortly after V-J Day, he and Dhalua disappeared for good to give Tesla a proper upbringing. I've heard he's found some rather unique replacements for a couple of his Aces lost over the years, too.

"There were rumors that he'd had a run-in with a Nazi scientist named Heinz Wessel, who used a sci-fi gizmo to either vaporize him or shoot him halfway across the universe, strange as it sounds. (*) But these fantastical stories were merely cooked up by his admirers in order to cope with the loss of the world's greatest adventurer. The truth was that he'd decided to turn his back on civilization forever in order to live a simpler life on his tropical isle.

[(*) Editor's note: For the story that inspired this anecdote, see "The Heritage of Doc Savage, Part 1: Into the Silver Pyramid," Doc Savage (DC) #1 (November, 1987).]

"Tom Strong has been a more or less permanent resident of Attabar Teru since then, only occasionally visiting America from time to time," continued Lee. "But if he's really come back and brought his family with him, he may have set up shop here again just when we needed him the most."

"Yeah, she mentioned something about looking her up. So just where is Tom Strong's headquarters?"

"Why, on the eighty-sixth floor of the Empire State Building, of course!" said Lee, as if it was public knowledge. His smile turned into a frown. "Wait... that's not right. I'm not sure why I said that. Tom had the Stronghold Building at the corner of Madison and 42nd Street custom-built for his purposes. It was common knowledge years ago."

"You look tired, Dad," said Link with concern. "You all right?"

"Just... just momentarily confused," said Lee. "I'm all right. But I think that's a yes on calling it a night."

As the sedan pulled away and passed by a group of arriving firefighters, Lee expertly tossed the Black Spider's hidden tracer into a fireman's boot, and they headed off to their headquarters.

***

The next morning, after Link Travis had done his morning exercises and eaten breakfast, he headed out for the hospital where he'd dropped off Charlie Daniels. Taking a slow pace across town to the hospital, he stopped at the gift shop and bought some flowers.

"Pardon me, but can you tell me which room Officer Charlene Daniels is in?" Link asked the nurse behind the desk, who looked older than his mother and twice as heavy.

"Friend or family?" the woman snarled at him.

"I'm her fiancé, Lincoln Travis," Link lied through his teeth.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know, Mr. Travis. She's in room 5-169 in the west wing."

"And, uh, which direction is that?" said Link, putting on his befuddled millionaire act.

"I'll have a candy striper show you to her room."

"Thank you." Link smiled and followed the young girl in the white-and-pink-striped uniform. It took him about five minutes to get to the room and a twenty-dollar tip for the candy striper to bring him there.

"So this is where the famous Charlie Daniels spends her time away from her adoring fans," Link said as he entered the room where Officer Daniels lay.

"Link? Link Travis, is that you? Oh my God, it's been so long... how did you know?"

"Bribed a candy striper," Link replied with a grin.

"About me being in the hospital, I mean. The Department has kept a tight lid on all the injured officers' identities."

"So why did you join the Police Department? You were going to be a famous actress, last I heard."

"I tried being an actress," began Charlie, "but production after production turned me down for prettier girls, younger girls, older girls... you know the routine. Besides, I found that the Police Department was the one place I could use the skills I learned growing up."

"Same old Charlie... busting heads and taking names."

"I enjoyed your last book, Link. Though I didn't know you had quite that much darkness in you. You always seemed to be the partying type."

"Thanks, but I wasn't all that pleased with it. The editors really tore it to pieces. It was three hundred pages of the best work I ever did, and they cut out a whole fifty pages. The ending no longer made any sense."

"I enjoyed it anyway, but then I always enjoyed the stuff you wrote."

"Thanks. And speaking of our bunch, have you heard what happened to any of the others?"

"Toni and Will got married a year ago. Will went to West Point, and Toni is going to NYU Medical. Will's been lucky as to his stations so far, keeping him close to Toni. Barb didn't have it so good; when she got turned down for regular acting roles, she became an adult film actress. Was very popular for a couple of years, too. But she overdosed on heroine about six months ago, and died. Haven't heard from Jazz or Dill since high school. Last I knew they were going to Hollywood."

Link listened quietly and sat beside the bed. He'd had relationships with both Charlie and Jazz in high school, fooling around and driving each other's parents crazy. High school seemed like a long time ago, back when annoying one's parents seemed a good use of time, and responsibility was remembering to turn in homework.

"So tell me the truth -- how did you find out about where I was?"

"Does it matter, Charlie? I heard and I came."

"You used the reporter gag, didn't you?" she said crossly.

"Only to find out where you were taken. I told the lady at the front desk I was your fiancé, and she sent me right up."

"Why didn't we ever go the extra distance, Link?"

"Get married? I didn't think either of us were up to the responsibility of it -- the commitment."

"So what did you do besides becoming a published writer?"

"Went to college -- Harvard. Studied Philosophy and Criminal Justice, and last summer spent some time in the Himalayas with Master Wing before visiting his family's ancestral home in Japan."

"You studied Criminal Justice? Why?" Charlie laughed after hearing that.

"It was more interesting than Journalism, which Dad wanted me to take."

"I missed talking to you, Link."

"Me, too, Charlie. And before I forget, here's my contact card."

"I have one in my belt over there, too. I hope it's not another five years before I see you again."

"Me, too, Charlie," Link said, taking Charlie's card from a compartment on her belt.

"You might want to try a lighter gun, Charlie. This one weighs a ton," Link said as he looked at the Colt .44 Magnum revolver.

"It has the power to stop a semi, Link. Besides, I didn't think you knew much about guns."

"Just rifles. Target shooting at the local gun club, mostly."

"Oh, that's cool. I'll call you when I can, all right?"

"Okay, see ya later, Charlie," Link said, and hugged his old friend goodbye.

***

The Twelve Immortals' council chambers were decorated with the twelve animals of the Chinese zodiac on banners behind each of the high-back chairs arranged in a circle. The tall, muscular Lord Horse had finished calling the council to order.

"Thank you, Lord Horse," said Lord Dragon. "Now let's talk about our plans for the redevelopment of that neighborhood."

"Don't you mean your plans for redevelopment, Lord Dragon?" a short, lanky individual broke in.

"Lord Monkey, what benefits me benefits all of us. Surely you are aware of that."

"Really? Then why do the rest of us only get a pittance from the projects you say that we are undertaking, and you get the majority? You use us like your servants, Lord Dragon."

"If you want to challenge me to leadership of the council, you are certainly welcome to, Lord Monkey."

"I am aware of what happens to council members who challenge your authority over the council, Lord Dragon. And let us welcome the new Lords Tiger and Rooster to our ranks."

"Are you going someplace with this, Lord Monkey, or are you just stirring up trouble like usual?" Lord Dog asked as he stared at his fellow council member.

"Ever Lord Dragon's loyal servant, eh, Lord Dog? When was the last time your master threw you a bone or compliment?" Lord Monkey taunted.

"Lord Monkey, unless you have a point to make, get to it or sit down," Lord Horse said in his bellowing baritone voice.

"Fine, Lord Horse, I will. I put up for consideration that Lord Dragon has used his influence as Lord of the Council of Immortals to further his own agendas while ignoring agendas and plans of other members. When was the last time you heard a plan of action suggested in council by another member, which Lord Dragon didn't try to kill or take over? Can't remember? Our records show it was seven years ago -- a plan by the previous Lord Tiger. Unusual that he didn't live to get to see the plan's completion, isn't it, Lord Dragon?"

"Lord Monkey, sit down and shut up, or be held in contempt of the council," Lord Horse said. Lord Monkey did so, but Lord Dragon's glare shot toward him and was met with an equally strong response.

***

Driving back to the Ops Center, Link Travis was listening to the radio. Among the many reports given, there were several calling the Crimson a hero for his role in the fire, for his saving the lives of police officers from a mob. And it got him thinking. Was he a only a dark avenger of the night, or was he also a hero?

What was it Master Wing had told him last summer about the reason his father had become the Crimson, despite the heavy toll it had taken on him and his family? The two had discussed so much on that last day in Nanda Parbat, but what he recalled most vividly was his father's fervent belief that evil didn't merely have to be kept at bay, but that the world could be changed for the better.

[DocQuantum]

Epilogue: Future Vision
by Doc Quantum

Link Travis peered over the lush valley of Nanda Parbat. He and Wing had hiked up one of the mountains in order to take one long, last look before their departure from the city later that summer day. Master Wing had explained that any visitors who remained for more than a few days would find it increasingly difficult to leave, and already the young man knew that to be true. Part of him wanted to spend the rest of eternity here, but he knew his life's future path had already been changed by this land. It was the best kind of intervention he could have hoped for.

"So tell me, Master Wing," Link began, breaking the silence as the two men basked under the summer sun. "What made you and my dad leave this paradise? Was being a hero really worth leaving all this behind?"

"It was Lee who made the decision," replied Wing. "He had been given a vision by Rama Kushna, the spirit of the universe himself."

Link raised his eyebrows. "I've never thought of Dad as a spiritual person at all, unless you count publishing the paper his religion. He barely even makes it to church on Christmas."

"As you know, your father is a private man," began Wing. "What he saw in his vision was something meant for his eyes only. I would not presume to tell you what he saw, though I have heard some of the story myself. Let us just say that he saw a vision of the future, and it affected him profoundly. He had by then spent years in an almost selfish quest for meaning, but now, after experiencing that vision, he had a different goal, one that focused his attention outside himself. He wanted to change the world, to change things for the better, so that some of what he had seen might be altered somehow. After the vision, the sheer passion he had to change the world for the better had become stronger than the measure of peace he'd found here, and that gave him the strength to leave this place. I was with him when he left the city, and I remained at his side ever since. To Lee's great shock, while he had arrived at Nanda Parbat in the year 1922, upon his return to the outer world, after what was only several weeks to him, he discovered that a full ten years had passed. It was now 1932."

"Crazy as it seems, I figured something like that must've happened," said Link. "But it still doesn't explain why Dad is as young as he is now, unless..."

"We will get to that," interrupted Wing. "Suffice it to say, Lee Travis had a new fire in his heart to fight crime and injustice wherever he might find it, not only from criminals but also crooked politicians. In those early years your father found a way to pick up where he had left off in his education, and within two years he managed to learn more than most men would in ten. He certainly earned his diplomas, though they never meant much to him. They were merely a stepping stone to greater things. He'd forgotten most details of what he'd seen in his future vision, but every once in a while a specific detail rises in his memory for a purpose. That was how he knew he would soon take over from his father as publisher of the Globe-Leader. Until that happened, he contented himself with being the most persistent crime reporter the paper had ever seen, even if his grammar and penmanship often did leave something to be desired."

"Dad never did claim to be a great writer," Link said, chuckling, "but he prided himself on knowing what made for a good story."

"But it wasn't until 1936 that Lee Travis was ready to truly fulfill his chosen destiny. It was toward the beginning of that year when he first donned the red cloak, mask, and hat of the Crimson he'd seen at the beginning of his future vision. He insisted that I act as his back-up, knowing full well that I made up in martial arts what I lacked in size. I only ever wore a black mask or goggles over my face as a disguise, plus my limo driver uniform, but I was always waiting in the shadows for the moment Mr. Travis needed me. I was more than merely his servant or valet -- I was the wing that replaced his own that had been broken, and being so has been the greatest honor of my life. I may never be able to pay back the lives that I'd ruined in my youth, but I have been able to make a real difference in this world for the better, despite all the odds against us. It has been gratifying to see how so many other masked men and women have joined the good fight since then."

"But not everything was great, right?" said Link. "I mean, Hitler was on the rise in the '30s, and World War II followed that, and the A-bomb..."

"Yes, yes, you have anticipated a few things," continued Wing. "Lee had indeed seen many successes in the '30s as the Crimson, having brought down many organized crime rings while playing the part of a master criminal himself. But there was only so much two men acting alone could do, even with the presence of other like-minded men in masks at the time, but the crime and corruption of the time seemed too out of control to be stopped by such measures. I hope you won't blame your father too much for becoming disillusioned about the world and straying somewhat from his holy mission. He had come to believe that he could continue as the Crimson while also pursuing a future wife and family, but that fate was not for him, at least yet.

"By the time World War II had ended, Lee had fallen in and out of love with his secretary, Sally Stevens. But he had never been able to confide in her with his secret life as the Crimson, and a wedge grew between them that eventually pushed her into the arms of another man: your father's best reporter, Ed Mackensie. Lee began to feel like he was back at square one, with another world war over and his own life lacking any meaning. He had been the Crimson for ten years now, and couldn't see what good a masked man with a gas-gun could do in that postwar world. He was also too disheartened to continue publishing the news. And so he made arrangements for his younger brother Jim to take over as publisher, just as their father had done upon his retirement. He asked Mac and Sally to run the paper, since Jim's publisher role would mostly be in name only. In 1946 he bade them farewell as he left for a year-long ocean cruise, but in reality it was a ruse to fake his death by sinking his own yacht some weeks later. Believed to be dead, Lee returned to Nanda Parbat, this time for good. And I went with him. Neither of us expected to ever leave this place again."

"And yet you did," prompted Link. "I always knew Dad became the Crimson Avenger in the '60s, even if I didn't know it was for the second time, but I never knew why. For that matter, why did he only call himself the Crimson in the '30s, but used the name of Crimson Avenger in the '60s?"

"There was a reason," said Wing. "A very good reason. It had to do with family. Your grandfather Walter Travis died in 1961 at the age of eighty-seven, and Rama Kushna told Lee that he had to return to the outer world, that his mission was not over. He had much still to do, and certain tasks to perform before he could rest. When we left for your grandfather's funeral, I am convinced that your father fully intended to return again to Nanda Parbat within the year, despite all of Rama's talk about destiny and unfulfilled missions. But circumstances changed.

"Jim Travis' murder the next year by Soviet spies seeking to use his newspaper as a communist propaganda outlet lit a fire under Lee's belly to become the Crimson Avenger. In the course of that case, he and I were recruited to become covert government agents at a time when Soviet espionage was more of a threat than ever. Lee Travis and Wing were thought to be long dead by that time, but with that government agency's help we were able to adopt new identities. I simply used my original Japanese name once more, while Lee took on the identity of his own nephew, Jim's young son Lee, who had been born in 1934 and had sadly died young. The idea of impersonating his dead nephew seemed morbid to Mr. Travis, but such a ruse was necessary in order to have our lives back. Your father underwent some minor plastic surgery to slightly alter his features, his brown hair was darkened to black, and he soon became publisher of the Globe-Leader again with his share of the family's inheritance.

"By that time, most of the paper's original crew had moved on, but Mac and Sally were still leading the editorial staff. Lee had expected them to recognize him for who he really was, but seventeen years had passed since his supposed death, and memories had faded. To them, this Lee Travis was a young, twenty-eight-year-old man who would be publisher in name only like his father Jim. And Lee was fine with that arrangement for a few years, since it gave him the time he needed to fight criminals and commies alike as the Crimson Avenger."

"He must've met my mom around that time," noted Link.

"Yes, it was during one of the many social functions that you and he despise so much that he met socialite Rebecca Pierce, born many years after him but close in actual age. It was a whirlwind romance. After losing Sally to Mac years earlier, Lee hadn't expected to fall in love with anyone as much as he fell for your mother. They were married within two years, which was as soon as Becky deemed it socially acceptable to do so, and you were born the following year. Lee had already confided to her about his secret life as the notorious Crimson Avenger after they'd begun dating, and she agreed that he could continue fighting crime only for as long as he and I were still in top form."

"I only knew about Dad being the Crimson Avenger after I was older, but it still boggles my mind to think of him wearing that mask and cape when I was just a little kid."

"You were only four when your father was forced to retire as the Avenger. A gang boss with the advantage of youth on his side, as well as cunning, challenged the Crimson Avenger for the future of the New York underworld, and put Lee through a gauntlet of fire in order to wear him down before the final battle. If it hadn't been for my quick actions on that day, Lee would have died from his injuries. As it was, Lee had accomplished almost everything he had set out to do as the Crimson Avenger, and considered his debt paid to Jim. Truthfully, I wasn't sure he was going to live, and I begged him to let me bring him back here to Nanda Parbat, but your father refused. He wouldn't think of leaving you or Becky. And so began a long, hard road of recovery for Lee that gave him his mobility back but would leave physical and mental scars for the rest of his life. But as your father put it, he couldn't be happier about it. He considers you his greatest accomplishment, bar none."

Link Travis nodded and looked away. "So much he never told me. Why?"

"As I said, it was not yet time," said Wing. "I'm sure he has much more he still wants to tell you, but only at the right time. Lee's learned the hard way that knowledge of the future comes with its own risks, and even that knowledge is not certain. As your father often says, the future can always be changed... for the better."

To Be Continued in The Crimson: Enter the Cat

[starskyhutch76]

At first, I thought it was a mistake when you referred to Lee Travis as the Crimson. It gives a reason for Link to make the name change, though, if his dad once went by it.

[DocQuantum]

Yeah, I went with the Crimson after reading all the early Crimson Avenger stories, and found that he was always referred to as the Crimson for the first couple of years, even though the strip title was the Crimson Avenger. i liked that distinction, and thought it might be useful for distinguishing different eras of the character‘a history on Earth-1.

I think it’s possible that Link Travis might take on the Crimson Avenger name eventually, once he finds a reason for vengeance.

What is everyone’s thoughts on this? Should Link remain the Crimson only or call himself the Crimson Avenger? Maybe I’ll try a poll.

[DocQuantum]

Vote here:

5earths.proboards.com/thread/1638/earth-1-crimson-avenger