Direwolf: Cold Iron & Hot Steel - part 10 "Do you want the rest of the story..."
by Direwolf
Sukhov faced off against his opponent in the deserted streets of Pinewood Heights. He thought it quite fitting that he and Pinstripe should be matched this way, a conflict of ideologies as well as power. Captain Kraken and Silver Scarab had chosen the hilltop as their battleground and Sukhov heard the sounds of their combat. But he didn't let it distract him. There was a battle here to be won.
As he watched his purple skinned opponent, Sukhov enjoyed the poetic symmetry of their upcoming battle. As they fought, perhaps their disparate ideologies would be tested as well. If that were the case, he had no doubt which would emerge triumphant
"Enough of this," Nuclear Winter muttered to himself in Russian, "let the battle be joined!"
He lumbered forward, watching Pinstripe as he closed. The plum-hued gangster acted as expected, leveling his Tommy gun and unleashing a long, stuttering burst.
"How predictable," the frozen felon said as his ice shell formed deflecting the attack. Bullets glanced from the rock hard ice, chipping it slightly and smacking into one of the empty houses on the street. Soon enough, the gun emptied.
"Tarnation and tommy guns, I need bigger clips!" Pinstripe shouted around the stub of his cigar.
While he was switching drums, Sukhov closed in. Pinstripe saw him coming and got his fists up in time.
"I'll pulverize you!" Pinstripe shouted, punching Sukhov in his icy stomach.
"Ooooof," Nuclear Minter grunted. "Well struck, now let us see if you ‘can take it as well as you dish it out'."
The two men traded blows. Each of them had the strength to shatter brick and concrete with their bare hands. By the grin on Pinstripe's face, Sukhov knew his opponent thought he had an easy victory. Something about Pinstripe was allowing him to soak up the force from the frozen Russian's super strong punches while each impact of the purple fist rocked Sukhov back, wearing him down. But Nuclear Winter didn't mind. This was all going according to plan.
Suddenly, Pinstripe staggered back and fell to his knees, his face blotchy and wet with sweat.
"What's happening to me?" he gasped.
"Haaaa!" Nuclear Winter shouted. "The gift of the atom, my capitalist friend! Radiation has laid you low."
"Uhhhhh, we agreed not to try to kill each other, you double crosser...."
"And I am sure your bullets were made of rubber," Nuclear Winter sneered. "But do not worry. The radiation will not linger. Soon you will be about your nefarious business. I must complement you, you have a strong hand and the will to use it. My victory was a near thing. Now let me help you up. We should see who I must battle next while you recover."
"Yeah, ok. You are one sneaky devil, Winter, I'm glad we're on the same side. And you pack a pretty mean wallop yourself."
Arm in arm, the two villains climbed the hill, both realizing just how evenly matched they were. **
The blast lifted Direwolf from his feet and tossed him into the sheet metal wall. The wall was sturdier then it looked and dented under the impact but didn't give way. Ears ringing and with white spots dancing in front of his eyes, Jason tried to stand up. Another bolt sizzled into him, knocking him flat.
"Better than shooting ducks in a pond!" One of the crooks shouted, leveling the weapon on the struggling hero.
Rather then try to stand, Jason rolled, catching the gunmen by surprise. Bullets and two more of the electrical beams blazed into the already damaged wall, ripping open a hole. Direwolf pitched a grenade into the center of the room and dove for the impromptu exit. In the middle of the room, the grenade detonated with a bright flash followed by a billowing cloud of thick white smoke. More shots tore through the pall of smoke but none found their target.
Like bloodhounds after wounded prey, the gang followed out the door.
As the first of them piled out the door, they spotted a figure in a long brown coat vanish around a pile of tires. Shots chased him on his way, kicking up mud and thunking into the tires that tottered and finally fell over.
Outside the office, the men milled about in confusion for a few moments, suddenly unsure about the wisdom of pursuing a super hero in the dark. Then one of them took charge.
"All right you mugs, let's split into two teams to find this clown. Don't want him telling the cops about this place. Vince, you take your crew and head to the right, I'll take the rest left. And be careful what you shoot at! We don't want any accidents."
The two groups split and moved into the darkness. From atop a heap of wrecked cars, Direwolf watched them go. His back still ached from the impact of these energy guns but he wasn't willing to give up. He picked the nearest group and stealthily followed them from above. **
Ralph led his men into the darkness between the ruined cars. He kept the force rifle ready to fire when he saw that masked vigilante. He clearly remembered the sight of him as he tore through the gang outside the antique store and Ralph wasn't going to let that happen again. He'd decided the Direwolf's mask would make a great trophy and now they had the firepower to collect it. Then maybe they'd get some more from those Freedom Force yahoos.
"Collect the whole set," he muttered, "better than baseball cards."
Everyone thought Vince had taken the masked hero out with a lucky shot from his rifle but the articles in the paper disproved that. Direwolf was obviously one tough customer but fortunately, the gang had already made contact with the shadow underworld figure simply known as Techmaster. Techmaster was willing to sell all sorts of interesting hardware to whoever could meet his price. The gang had been trying to scratch up money as fast as they could to buy their way into the big leagues. This afternoon, Techmaster had delivered four of these fancy force rifles. And they sure seemed impressive. Just the thing to take down a meddling super hero.
The only problem was that Direwolf had been hit twice by these things and was still moving. But Ralph was a firm believer that if you keep hitting something long and hard enough, sooner or later it stopped moving. It all came down to enough firepower concentrated on a single point.
Ralph organized his men into a roughly triangle shaped pattern. Two men were given point over their rather vocal objections. He and one other guy armed with a force rifle took the center, then they had two more out as flankers armed with pistols.
They moved through the muddy tracks between the rusty monoliths. The moon was up. But the silver light was deceptive, adding pools of deep shadow to the already dark wrecking yard. Everything looked different than in the daylight, like some sort of surreal painting. Ralph realized there was a very real possibility of getting lost. Then, he saw something move up ahead.
"Watch for an ...."
Before he could say ‘ambush' a dark figure dropped into sight, grabbed one of the point men and leapt up into darkness. Shots cracked into the night and a force bolt sizzled out, lighting the area like a flash bulb. But it was too late. There was no sign of Direwolf or his captive.
"Pull it in guys, he's here!" Ralph shouted, feeling the first tickle of real fear in his gut.
The men closed in, forming a defensive ring with the two force rifles in the center. "He's got to show himself sooner or later."
The flash grenade landed in their midst and went off with a blinding burst of light. An instant later, Direwolf landed among them and howled, a long quavering note that tore into the men's subconscious minds. The sound spread panic and flash blinded men screamed in fear and ran blindly firing their weapons as they went. More screams of pain and surprise filled the night as they shot each other.
Through his fear, Ralph heard a low inhuman growl followed by the thud of a heavy object on flesh. He knew another of his men had fallen. He spun in place firing the rifle as quickly as the weapon could cycle, splitting the night with beams of energy. Metal exploded around him, spattering him with droplets of molten steel as the crash of falling cars echoed thunderously. As the tide of panic ebbed, he stopped, sobbing for breath. He could see again. And what he saw was devastation.
The limp forms of the men he had been leading were scattered around him like broken toys. Some of them twitched and moaned, others lay still. Several of the piles of junked cars were down, knocked over by the bolts of energy from the force rifle. Fires smoldered amid the hulks, the upholstery set alight by the rain of hot steel. The moon hung in the sky, an aloof witness to the carnage.
A lone figure stood near one of the burning cars, his hands in the pockets of his long brown coat, the white emblem of a snarling wolf on his chest.
"Easy or hard, your choice?"
Ralph screamed and fired.
Direwolf ducked under the beam and raced across the ground, impossibly fast. His hand caught the rifle, yanking it from Ralph's grip. His other fist connected with Ralph's jaw with a sharp crack. Ralph tumbled back into unconsciousness. **
Atop the hill, Nuclear Winter faced Silver Scarab. Pinstripe and Captain Kraken watched from near by. Kraken had his breastplate off, it was etched as if eaten by acid, and was patching it with flattened cans while he watched.
Nuclear Winter flexed his ice-sheathed hands and studied the slender woman in black and silver. She had a fist-sized object clenched in her right hand and he assumed it was some sort of weapon. She was ready for him but if he defeated her, then the others would be bound to his judgment in this informal alliance. But did he want that? Perhaps he could best achieve his goals by not being the chairmen. One thing he had learned by watching both the Politburo as well as the leadership of the KGB was that sometimes, it did not pay to be the man on top.
"Neyet!" He said firmly, folding his arms over his massive frozen chest. "I will not fight. I defer to you, in this and only in this, Silver Scarab."
He turned to face the startled Pinstripe and Captain Kraken. "She drew us together and perhaps, has made something greater then the sum of the parts. It is fitting that she should hold the position of chairman or director, whatever you wish to call it. We are all free to come and go as we wish in this alliance, let us see how her plan shall work."
"I can live with ‘dat," Pinstripe said after a moment of consideration.
"As will I," Kraken added.
"Now, about that matter of the two cylinders you made off with, they was very valuable merchandise," Pinstripe said.
"For which you will be compensated. But more importantly, they are power, power that I think we four can best put to use."
Meanwhile, Nuclear Winter walked over to Captain Kraken.
"Well met, comrade, " the Russian agent said. "Now that we can, if we wish, work together, I have a matter that you might be able to help me with, help for which I will pay you."
"You've got my interest."
"Have you ever heard of a US submarine that doesn't exist, one called the USN Sculpin?"
"No, but tell me more...." **
"So, that about covers it," Jason told Sergeant Joe as they walked out of the Sunrise Auto Dismantlers office. "I gathered them up, put bandages on the two who were shot and called you, figuring there was enough evidence of illegal activity to make it a police matter."
"Considering the stacks of stolen goods, hot cars and illegal weapons, yeah, I'd say you made the right call," Joe agreed. "But you said the crooks split into two groups to hunt for you. What happened to the other group?"
"As best I can tell, they made a break for it while I was mixing it up with the group I did catch. The only sign I found were a whole lot of tracks leading out the front gate."
"Well, I suspect they are long gone with the fear of you driving them like furies. What can you tell me about these fancy rifles they were using?"
"Not a lot. I gather they got them from someone called Techmaster. The two I recovered are in the office. I figured it wasn't a good idea to leave them lying around. As best I can tell, they fire some sort of artificial lighting bolt that superheats whatever it hits, producing a secondary explosion."
Joe whistled through his teeth." Things in this city just keep getting better and better. I'll send them on to the crime lab and tell you if they find anything. By the way, nice piece of work here. I don't care what that blowhard Jagger says. I'm happy for your help."
Direwolf grinned. "I'm glad it worked out the way it did. About the time that first beam hit my back, I figure the next time you saw me it would be as a skin on someone's floor."
Joe shuddered. "That isn't a joking matter."
"You may be right. Do you need anything else or have you got this covered."
Joe surveyed the scene. The wrecking yard was swarming with cops and crime lab technicians. In addition, four techs in white coats with a dark green Greek delta emblazoned on the pocket were examining the places where the beams had struck. There were from Delta Labs, which had recently been awarded a ‘technical assistance' contract from the city to deal with ‘extraordinary' matters. The two seriously injured hoods, apparently shot in the wild melee by their own side, were being loaded into an ambulance while the rest of criminals were getting a free ride to jail. And by the sound of things, the press was at the gate clamoring to get in. For now, he could keep them out by saying it was an active crime scene.
"I think you have done your good deed for the day. And you might want to head out before the media feeding frenzy gets underway."
Direwolf sighed. "Wish I could but like you said, I've got to deal with public perception sooner or later. May as well be now. I'll be in touch."
Back straight, and hands in his pockets, Direwolf walked to the gateway. The police he passed all called out heartfelt thanks and congratulations which he acknowledged with smiles and nods. He ducked under the yellow ‘Police Investigation, Do Not Cross' tape across the open gate and stepped into a blaze of flash bulbs and shouted questions.
The light stabbed his eyes and the shouting voices threatened to become one huge blur of sound. But then he caught the phrase he was listening for: "...Stormy Weathers, Patriot City Herald."
He spotted a young woman with brilliant red hair and dark green eyes fighting her way through the press of people. A young man with a camera was trying to follow her and being left behind.
With casual ease, Direwolf reached into the crush of people and lifted Stormy free. She gasped in surprise as she suddenly found herself face to mask with Direwolf.
"Miss Weathers, do you want the rest of the story? Would you like an exclusive interview?" He whispered.
She nodded, too stunned to speak.
"All right then."
He took her in a firm grip then leaped over the crowd by the gate, landing in the street. Another surge of his muscles took them to the roof of a warehouse across the street. Then he raced across the roof and jumped again, landing on another building across the street. Stormy had her arms locked around Direwolf's shoulders as he leapt again. The ground sailed under them. The impact of their landing shuddered through him, making her teeth rattle but she realized she was safe; he wasn't going to drop her.
After several minutes of breathtaking travel over the streets of Patriot City, they came to a stop atop the old Starlight Cinema.
"Uh, you can let go now, ma'am," Direwolf said.
"Easy for you to say," Stormy countered, somewhat breathless. But she let go and adjusted her mussed clothing. "You said something about an interview?"
"Yes, I'll answer what questions I can. I won't tell you who I am behind the mask or anything that might give away who I am. But any question I do answer, I will answer honestly."
"Sounds fair. First question, why me and why now?"
Direwolf was silent for a few moments and walked to the edge of the building. He put his foot up on the lip and looked over the edge. The blinking lights of the Marquee painted him with flares of red and green light while the slight wind ruffled his coat back and tosseled his dark blond hair. The image was somehow both dramatic and natural at the same time, the hunter at rest yet still alert. Stormy was suddenly struck by the understanding that if Direwolf sensed trouble he would be gone in a moment to try to help. That was part of who he was.
"Why you? Well, I read your coverage of my altercation with Freedom Force and the facts were all there. I believe if you hear the truth you will print it. You could say I trust your journalistic integrity. As to why now, I think enough has happened that the public has the right to know who I am, what I do, and what I stand for."
Stormy got out her notebook and pen and began scribbling notes. "Well, we know who you are, we've seen at least part of what you do, so what do you stand for?"
Direwolf looked up at the night sky as if to study the stars, and then looked back at her, his blue gray eyes locking with hers. She felt a tingle of alarm and excitement race through her. She felt as if she were facing a force of nature incarnated.
"Justice Miss Weathers, I stand for justice."
The End
DIREWOLF UNMASKED
By Jenny Weathers.
What makes a hero? We've all wondered that here in Patriot City, since the first superheroes and supervillains appeared in our city streets. We're all human enough to understand the villains, we can understand their greed and their violence. It's a sad commentary on humanity as a species that it's harder for us to understand the heroes. And when a hero walks our streets, how quick we are to suspect him, and to assign the worst motives to his actions?
Such a man is the young superhero called Direwolf. There's been a lot of speculation about him since his appearance, and especially since his well-documented collision with Freedom Force. I managed to catch up with him recently (on a city rooftop to be exact), and was able to obtain an interview in between his battles with the city's gritty underbelly.
The first thing one notices about Direwolf is his sheer size. He's a large man, an imposing man, and the leather coat and facemask add a menacing aura that goes a long ways towards explaining his ferocious reputation. It's only as one listens to him speak that it becomes obvious that this young man is earnest, polite, and, yes, even shy.
"I think enough has happened that the public has the right to know who I am, what I do, and what I stand for," he said, as the wind blew through his blond hair. Without any sign of self-consciousness or pretension he continued, "I stand for justice."
"Justice is what you know in your heart is right. It's what you learn from your parents, your schoolteachers, your high school coach and your scoutmaster. Or even a veteran cop who still cares. And you learn it from history, from reading about the founding of this nation or the teachings of men like Gandhi, Socrates, and Plato. Justice, and the ability to see it, is something inside us all. Not everyone chooses to see it. But I think it's there."
"As to what gives me the right to decide what it is, that's a more complex question. I would say that no one has the right to do so, but we all have the responsibility to do so. If we perceive injustice, shouldn't we all stand against it? The force that gave me power didn't give me any sort of instruction book or set of advice on how to use them. I have to figure out what it means. I suppose I could have ignored them and tried to just live a regular life. I might have decided to use them to enrich myself. But I really couldn't have, since doing so would mean turning my back on what I believe. Justice needs people to champion it. And I guess that task has sort of fallen on me."
He went on to explain the confusion that caused his recent fight with Freedom Force. "I guess it was sort of a schoolyard scuffle that went out of control," he said. "It really was just an unfortunate misunderstanding. Behind the amazing powers and costumes, we are all people and people are fallible. And I can't say that 'mistakes' won't happen again. I'll do everything I can to avoid them, just as I believe the members of Freedom Force will as well."
This discussion of mistakes, and the potential dangers that the mistakes of superheroes can cause, led Direwolf into some philosophical discussions about the nature of superheroes. It was a surreal experience, standing on a drafty rooftop listening to a man in a mask talk about Jungian archetypes and the dangers of the 'cult of personality,' and brought home just what an amazing contradiction this hero is. He was just beginning to explain, in guarded terms, about how an exposure to the mysterious Energy X during a life and death struggle had triggered his transformation, when our interview was interrupted by the sound of distant gunfire.
In an instant the shy young man was gone, replaced by the hero. With a single graceful motion he swept me up in his arms and leapt to the street far below, depositing me gently before racing off to action.
Later investigation revealed that a small corner store, owned by an elderly couple, had been held up by gun-toting thugs. The defenseless owner, valiantly throwing himself between his wife of many years and the violent young men, had been shot, and lay dying as Direwolf appeared on the scene. He quickly immobilized the criminals, and without a moment's hesitation gathered the dying man up, spoke a kindly word to his grieving wife, and carried him to a hospital.
That innocent man still lies in critical condition as I write this, and the criminals are behind bars. And Direwolf? He still patrols the rooftops of our city. And I, for one, am very glad that he's there.
[Authors note: DIREWOLF UNMASKED was written by James Myers]
