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By Jess Nevins
[rated R for language]
Stan Lee Presents : The greatest heroes of the post World War II era...Captain America, Sentinel of Liberty...The Whizzer, Fastest Man Alive...Miss America, Strong and Beautiful Heroine...Sub-Mariner, Prince of Atlantis...and the Human Torch, the fiery android...they are The All-Winners Squad!
The Phantom Eagle turned and said to Private Wilson, "It gets worse, boy." He looked at Wisdom and said, "Why don't you explain the rest, Detective Sergeant?"
Wisdom nodded and said, "Why don't I, sunshine?" He turned to Daly and said, "He's a toff, Sergeant, but he means well." Daly shrugged. Wisdom said, "Right, well...as I said, I'm Detective Sergeant Wilson. I've been seconded, for the duration of the war, to Department F.66 of New Scotland Yard."
Daly said, "F.66?"
Wisdom lit up another cigarette and said, "Yeah. We're the Department of Unusual Deaths, Sergeant. See, we were formed about fifteen years back, after a copper saw certain...strange details about the Jack the Ripper murders. Occult details, Sergeant. Those details were missed, back when Springheel Jack was doing for those whores in--"
The Phantom Eagle visibly bristled and said "I don't appreciate that sort of language, especially around children like the Squire, Mr. Wisdom."
Without looking at the Phantom Eagle, Wisdom said, "Sod off, wanker." He then said to Daly, "Anyhow. Our job, in F.66, is to make sure that the details don't get missed again. And that's what this is about, right?"
"See, about ten months back this robby in the River Police starts finding bodies washing up on the Thames. Standard floaters, except they're lacking blood - any blood - and their heads. We'd been keeping track of Baron Blood ourselves, mind you, but we'd thought the Five, here, had taken care of him. Plus, as far as any of us know, Baron Blood wasn't into leaving them short any body parts. So we open a file and start our own investigation."
"Almost three times a week we find bodies along the Thames, all missing blood, but some without their heads and some without their liver and lights. We check on other vampires we know about, even ask the one we've got on payroll, but no one knows anything, and Dracula says he's got nothing to do with this."
Wilson said, "Dracula? Aw, man..."
Wisdom said, "My sympathies, mate, it gets bloody worse, you'll pardon the expression. So we've got about 120 cold ones we're chasing down leads on when Miss Bingen, here, approaches us."
Bingen shook her head and lightly touched Daly's hand. "You'll have to excuse Mr. Wisdom, Sergeant. He gets like this when he hasn't had any alcohol for over an hour." Wisdom made an obscene gesture, which Bingen ignored. She said, "I'm an alchemist, Sergeant. Do you know what that means?"
Daly said, "You turn lead into gold or something, right?"
Bingen shook her head. "That's only a small part of what alchemists do, Sergeant. Here - let me do something." And with that she took out an odd sort of pen and scrawled a bizarre trail of symbols on his hand. She smiled at him and said, "You see, we seek to transform the lesser into the greater, as a way of seeking perfection. I just...well, that sentence will help change the lesser - wounds, diseases, and such - into the greater - good health for you."
Daly tried to keep a straight face. "Uh...right, Miss Bingen. Whatever you say."
Bingen smiled and shrugged. "You may not believe, Sergeant, but I can do things that you can't imagine. I'm not here to convince you of alchemy's truth, though; you'll see that soon enough, I think."
"Anyhow. Some years ago I burned the dross away from...well, it doesn't matter what. I ended up with something that would, if I asked him - it - the right way, tell me about the future."
"I heard about the murders and used my....I used this object to find out what's going on. And then I got in touch with F.66, and they got in touch with the Freedom's Five."
"You see, Sergeant, magic is real. I can see from your face that you don't want to believe in this, but it's true. Vampires, magic swords - like the one Sir Steel is using - and magic spells, Sergeant Daly; they all work. It's a stranger world than people know, and our future is destined to grow far stranger still."
"Anyhow...there is a...a field, I guess you might call it, around the Earth. This field has the life energies of everything on Earth in it, and it influences them and is influenced by them in turn. Usually this field is stable, for there is more life occurring than death, and the balance is positive. But the balance can be upset, and the life-field made negative, if there is enough death to darken it. When that happens what you might call black magic is made possible."
Wilson said, "Aw, man - black magic? I ain't likin' this shit."
Bingen, not smiling, said, "You'll like this even less, Private Wilson. Necromancy, Sergeant, is the blackest of the evil magicks; it is the manipulation of death-energies. Many adepts find it easy, for the killing of men is a small thing, and because of that they use it, not thinking of the costs to others, and the costs to them and their souls. It is a powerful kind of magic, Sergeant, and an evil one."
"The darkest and most powerful of necromancies requires a great deal of death to work. Normally that amount of death is beyond most sorcerers - at least, these days, it is. In the past, before British civilization took hold, it was done far more often. However...this war has killed many men. The life-field over Europe has been darkened beyond black; it is pregnant with the anti-life force."
"There are certain...rituals, you might call them, that are possible only when there is this much death energy. What my ma--what my object, the thing I used to divine with, told me was that the murders on the Thames were used to add to the death energies of the life-field, so that a certain ceremony can take place."
Sergeant Daly felt a sinking feeling and lit a cigarette. "I don't think I like where this is going."
She slowly and grimly nodded. "No. You won't. Those deaths were for a purpose. Whoever was committing the murders in London - and in other places, you know, for there were similar deaths reported in Paris, and New York, and Rome, and Tokyo, and Peking - was doing them so that the amount of negative life-force would be sufficient to...well, to pry open the door to the afterlife. There's a Chinese festival, the Yu-Lan Hui - the `Festival of the Hungry Ghosts.' It usually takes place around August 6th. The Chinese hold that that's when the gates of Hell are opened, and the ghosts and the demons of Hell return to Earth."
Sergeant Daly said, "But it's only June 19th - how can--"
Bingen said, "Whoever this necromancer is, he's - or she's - very powerful. He has used the death-energies caused by the war to fool the gates of Hell itself. They're going to open today."
Sergeant Daly shook his head and flicked his cigarette over the edge of the pit. He said, "Miss Bingen, I'm just a simple Marine. I don't know anything about alchemy, or black magic, or the gates of Hell, or...any of that. What does this have to do with me and my men?"
She touched his hand again, and he thought to himself that he could get easily get used to that. She said, "Whoever's doing this doesn't have enough power yet. The timing has to be right; if it's not done at precisely the right moment, it won't happen. The ceremony has to happen at 11:20. Today. And it has to happen in the right place. Here."
Daly slowly nodded his head. "I...think I understand now."
She said, "Good. Your attack was going to provide him - or her - with enough energy to make the ceremony happen."
Daly looked at her and then at the Freedom's Five and said, "Okay. So what now? Do we pull back?"
The Phantom Eagle said, "No. We know that the Germans are planning on attacking later this morning; General Pershing planned your attack to disrupt theirs. They'll just move up the time of their attack, and the ceremony will happen anyhow. What General Pershing has ordered you to do is to attack first - with our help."
Private Wilson said, "How's that gon' help?"
Bingen said, "I've divined the location of the necromancer. He's with the Germans, at that position you were going to attack. If we strike first and disable him or ruin his preparations, the ceremony can't take place."
Daly said, "So what's the plan?"
The Phantom Eagle said, "We attack and kill the necromancer. That will stop the ceremony. It's standard procedure to precede any attack with an artillery bombardment, which is why we're not going to have one. We will simply attack, and catch them by surprise."
Sgt. Daly checked his watch and said, "Best to do it now, then. You just better hope that this fog doesn't life, because otherwise the kraut snipers are going to pick us apart."
Bingen said, "This is a special fog, Sergeant. I called it down to cover our arrival. I don't believe whoever is over there will know that it's anything other than a very thick mist."
The Phantom Eagle said, "Understand, Sergeant, that this will have no effect on the overall offensive. The other squads in this company are moving forward at 11:15 regardless of what we do. The shelling will start about five minutes before that, and they'll definitely be aimed at the location we're going to attack, so we have to be in and out of there before then."
Daly shook his head and chuckled. "I don't think you know much about what life is like down here in the trenches, Eagle. We'll either get there quickly, and clear them out, or we'll be pinned down, and not get there before the shelling starts. Either way, we ain't gonna be there at 11:15."
Daly turned to his men and said, "We're going after that machine-gun position early, men. Guns ready? Good. On three - one, two--"
Sir Steel interrupted him. "Sergeant, let us pray first."
Daly was about to object but saw that his men were kneeling, something that surprised him; they hadn't, so far, struck him as the religious types (except Shannon, who was always fingering that big silver cross he wore around his neck - damn Papists), but he supposed it was good for them. He remained standing, as did Wisdom and Bingen, both of whom looked faintly amused. The other Five, though, kneeled (again into the mud, Daly saw, and he thought that he just might have to revise, however slightly, his opinion of them - they obviously had no objection to getting their costumes dirty).
Sir Steel said, "Oh Lord, we do ask, in this hour of our need, that You make Your fast intent known, and give us the strength of Thy good right arm to o'ercome the unrighteous Hun. Amen."
Daly nodded and said, "Right. MOVE!"
Porter was the first over the side of the pit; he never talked much, but he was a bear for a fight, something that Daly appreciated - men like Porter, who weren't always complaining (like Wojhewoycz and O'Houlihan) and weren't always needling the other men (like Stankowicz), were the types that the Marines needed, but were all too few.
Daly saw Porter fall backwards immediately. Daly turned to look, and saw what was left of Porter's face at the same time that he heard the sound of the bullet that had killed Porter. Then he smelt the stench as Porter's body emptied itself, its internal muscles finally relaxing in death.
A second later bullets began raking across the trees and ground in front of and around the squad's position. The Marines and the Freedom's Five and Bingen and Wisdom ducked down into the pit and looked at Daly. Daly ducked as several shots hit the log and sprayed wood chips across him. He shouted to the others, "We're going to have to flank them!" He pointed at his squad and yelled, "Crawl thirty yards to the right, then circle around towards them - and keep your damn heads down! Wilson, you lead them!" He then looked at the Phantom Eagle and said, "We're going around the left - follow me, and if you want to make it back to London, stay down!"
Before any of them could move, however, they heard an obscene chuckling, as if someone was forcing laughter than unused or damaged vocal chords. Daly, his flesh goose-pimpling over, threw himself on his back, pointing his Colt at the source of the voice, but for a moment he couldn't see anything through the fog. Then the mist seemed to solidify and turn into a face - a face that Daly knew he'd never forget. It was shriveled, the pasty, rotting skin drawn tight across the bone of the skull, the breath redolent with the stench of corpses, and the eyes burning with a hypnotic red flame. Union Jack spat, "Baron Blood."
The face smiled, saying, "Ring around the foxhole, a pocket full of blood - so kind of you to bring my next meal to me, Herr Flagge."
The Marines instantly opened fire, but the bullets passed through the face, causing him to laugh, long and loud. The Phantom Eagle said, "Your bullets won't affect him, you fools! Jack, your knife!"
The Union Jack drew a knife from a concealed sheath in his shirt; its blade gleamed in the weak morning light. He leapt forward, propelling himself up the side of the pit and over its lip, slashing at Baron Blood's face.
The blade parted the mist, which quickly reformed into the vampire's face. Union Jack stood on the lip of the pit and drew his arm back for another slash and then was hit by two bullets and thrown backwards into the pit, next to Sgt. Daly.
Baron Blood chuckled as more German bullets flew through him over the pit. He said, "Typical Britisher - you think the Union Jack will protect you from everything, including lead poisoning. Ah, well, I'm sure it will not give your blood an unpleasant taste."
Sir Steel said, "Foul, unholy beast! What doest thou here? And how com'st thou to show thy face neath God's holy sunlight?"
Baron Blood laughed. "I've found the Kaiser a new ally, one who will ensure his victory and who has given me the freedom to walk during the day. You've no idea how good that feels."
He looked at the Five, then at the Marines, and then at Bingen and Wisdom. "But to business. You're to die now, of course - but who first? Decisions, decisions...almost like Christmas morning, this is - which present do I open first?"
Daly, staring with horror and repugnance at Baron Blood - vampires were real??? - felt something being nudged into his hand and reflexively grabbed it. He glanced down and saw the Union Jack had surreptitiously pushed his dagger, the one he'd tried to kill the vampire with, into Daly's hand. Daly held it against his thigh, out of sight of the vampire.
The sound of the bullets stopped, and Baron Blood looked behind him for a moment, then turned back and smiled. "Well. Enough chit-chat. Time to die." The mist below his face solidified in a few seconds into a purple-costume-clad body - short, and scrawny, and decayed-looking. Daly tightened his grip on the dagger, but before he could move Baron Blood reached down and yanked the log in front of him off the ground. He lifted it over his head with ease and, looking down into the pit, said, "Who's first?"
Daly tensed, ready to jump, when he noticed the sparkling directly behind Baron Blood. In the space of two seconds the sparkling seemed to solidify into another figure, one wearing a red, white, and blue costume and carrying a strange, circular shield. The man's face was vacant with surprise, but as Shannon saw him he gasped, which drew Blood's attention, and the vampire whirled around, quicker than Daly would have thought possible for someone holding half a tree over their head.
The man in the red, white, and blue costume seemed suddenly to focus on the vampire, and as the vampire was saying, "Wha--" the man's leg was lashing out. His kick landed squarely in Baron Blood's midsection, making him drop the log and knocking him forward into the pit, causing the Marines to scatter out of his way. Before the vampire's body hit the floor of the pit the man was in motion again, leaping forward and throwing his shield. Blood landed in the pit just as the shield hit his head and then rebounded off of it. The man caught the shield and did a mid-air somersault and landed on Baron Blood, driving both feet into the vampire's head and pushing it a foot deep into the mud of the pit. The man then leapt sideways, into the pit, next to Shannon. The man leaned forward, said, "Excuse men," yanked Shannon's cross from off his neck, and whirled around again, diving at Baron Blood.
The vampire was dazedly raising his head from the hole into which it had been driven when the man's fist, holding the cross, hit him square in the forehead. There was a sizzle, and smoke rose up from where the cross had touched the vampire's face, and Baron Blood recoiled backwards, into the mud, and cried out in pain. The man's body hit Blood and he straddled the vampire, his left hand wrapped around the vampire's neck and pushing the vampire's head back into the mud. The man started raining punches on Blood's face, his right hand shooting forward like a metronome. As he hit the vampire he snarled at him, his words coming in rhythm with his punches. "You" bam "murdering" bam "torturing" bam "bastard!" bam "I" bam "thought" bam "you" bam "died" bam "during" bam "the" bam "war!" bam "I'll" bam "make" bam "you" bam "wish" bam "you'd" bam "stayed" bam "dead!" bam
After about twenty seconds Baron Blood's hand finally shot forward and grabbed the man's punching arm, then slowly started forcing him backwards, off of the vampire. Blood's face was a wasteland of burns, and his left eyesocket was totally collapsed. His right eye was flaring crimson, and his mouth was twisted into a hate-filled grimace. As he pushed the man backwards he said, between gasps, "I...do not know...who you are...but you--"
Seeing Blood push the man backwards snapped Daly out of the daze he was in. He jumped forward and drove Union Jack's dagger deep into the vampire's arm; Blood howled in agony and let the man who'd beaten him go. Then a paper packet flew over Daly's shoulder and hit Blood's face, exploding on impact and scattering a yellowish powder on Blood's head and chest. Blood gurgled and choked and finally dissolved himself into mist and flowed over the pit's edge and away towards the German lines.
Daly looked over his shoulder and saw Bingen, still in throwing position. She smiled and said, "Garlic powder, Sergeant." He nodded. "Good throw."
The man in red, white, and blue looked around him, at the Five and at the Marines and the pit, then looked down at himself. Daly heard him whisper, "I'm back in uniform?" before turning and saluting Daly. The man said, "Captain America, sir. Where are we? What's the--"
Captain America's words were shut off when he heard the sound of more German bullets zipping through the air above the pit. His head snapped around at the sound, and his shield instinctively came up to protect his head - combat reflexes, Sergeant Daly thought approvingly. Captain America looked at the Marines again, this time really seeing them, and he said, in a low voice, "World War One. Damn." Wisdom said, "`World War ONE'? Sodding hell, there's going to be another?"
Sergeant Daly said, over the din of the bullets, which seemed to be increasing in both noise and number, "We need to storm the krauts' position," and he pointed in the direction from which Baron Blood had appeared, "but they've got four snipers and two machine gun nests, and they're up a hill."
Captain America nodded once. "Right." He said to Sir Steel, the Silver Squire, the Phantom Eagle, and the Crimson Cavalier, who were all clustered around Union Jack, "Any of you bulletproof?" This caused the four to exchange nonplussed glances, with the Phantom Eagle saying, "`Bulletproof', `Captain'? We're human - what do you think we are, characters out of a fairy tale?"
Sir Steel left off tying the bandages on the wound to Union Jack's side and said, "Good yeoman, I hight Sir Steel. My armor is proof `gainst all assaults."
Captain America adjusted the shield on his arm and said, "Good - you're with me. The rest of you - follow right behind us. We'll draw their fire until we reach the hill. Lay down suppressing fire when you can, but don't stick your head out. Got it? Right. Steel, I'll go first." With that he clapped the knight on his shoulder, then leapt over the side of the pit. Sir Steel, startled, scrambled up the side of the pit after him.
Almost immediately Sergeant Daly and the others heard the sound of bullets ricocheting off of metal. Sergeant Daly cursed under his breath and then shouted at his squad, "Whatya waitin' for, a written fuckin' invitation? MOVE MOVE MOVE!" And, not waiting for a response, he climbed up the side of the pit and threw himself over it.
Laying flat on the ground, he saw the one who'd called himself "Captain America" standing next to Sir Steel, a few feet away from the pit. Bullets were ricocheting off both of them, but neither seemed affected by them, not even being moved backwards by the impact of the bullets. Daly crawled forward, then stood up right behind Sir Steel, using the taller man's armor to shield himself from the bullets. Daly glanced behind him and saw the Eagle, the Squire, the Cavalier, and his Marines crawling after him, with Bingen and Wisdom following them.
When everybody was crouched in two lines behind Captain America and Sir Steel, Captain America said, "Ready?" On hearing affirmative grunts, he said, "On three - one, two, three!" And with that he and Sir Steel began running forward, through the woods and the fog, towards the source of the German gunfire.
Smith bought it 10 yards from the pit, when he leaned too much to the right while running and caught a sniper's round flush in the chest. Gottfriedson took one in the forehead two steps after that.
Steinberg went down next, when he got over-enthusiastic and tried to run ahead of Sir Steel; two of the snipers targeted him and put bullets through his face and chest, and he dropped, dead before he hit the ground.
They found the first sniper clambering down from the tree he'd been using; no fool, he'd decided that the figure in red, white, and blue, who seemed to not even notice his bullets, was someone that the zauberer needed to be told about. O'Houlihan shot him in the back as he tried to run, and Johnson finished him off with his bayonet.
The second sniper kept up his fire on Captain America and Sir Steel even as the remaining Marines opened up on his position. It was the Phantom Eagle who finally killed him, emptying his Colt into the sniper's back.
By the time the group got to where the third and fourth snipers had been, they'd fled back to the German position atop the hill, and all that the group had to worry about was the two machine gun nests halfway up the hill.
One of the German gunners, seeing that his bullets were having no effect, used his head and started throwing grenades, and before the group could react Johnson and Stankowicz were blown apart and the Silver Squire had taken shrapnel all across his left side. Daly put a grenade of his own into the nest, and that seemed to silence them.
The other machine gunner didn't seem to believe what he was seeing and maintained his fire even as Sir Steel charged towards him. A ricochet struck the gunner's feed-man in the throat, and Sir Steel used his sword to take off the gunner's head.
The Germans at the top of the hill were pouring rifle fire down on the group, but the remaining Marines and the others were on their stomachs, returning fire, and were anyhow less distracting than the sight of Captain America and Sir Steel charging up the hill right at the Germans' position. The two reached the top of the hill and were over it in seconds, quickly followed by a string of screams and the cessation of gunfire at the Marines and the others, who quickly got to their feet and charged up the hill after the two costumed men.
The five Marines and the three Freedom's Five heroes and Wisdom and Bingen found Captain America and Sir Steel on a flat, treeless plateau, roughly 50' across. Each was surrounded by German soldiers, some already on the ground at their feet, dead or dying, but many more charging towards the heroes. Captain America was a dervish, always in motion, whirling and leaping over charging Germans ducking away from others. He had a revolver in one hand and his shield in the other and was using both simultaneously, gunning down an oncoming soldier while striking out with the shield and breaking the kneecap of another German who was standing too close. Sir Steel, not so quick or light on his feet, had Germans draped all over him, vainly striking him with bayonets, shovels, and the butts of their rifles as he swung his sword two-handed, crying, "Albion! Albion!"
Daly stopped only a second to take in the sight, and then opened fire. The others looked at him, horrified, and he said (while he continued to shoot), "They're bulletproof, remember?" Looks of horror were replaced with comprehension, and they joined in, their fire clearing a space around both heroes and forcing the Germans trying to drag Sir Steel down to let go of him and attempt to defend themselves.
Within seconds the plateau was clear of living Germans. Captain America and Sir Steel stopped, panting, while the other Marines spread out. Wilson and O'Houlihan and Wojhewoycz had barely reached the edge of the plateau when the ground around the others erupted, and a stone tor in the shape of an altar shot up from the ground. Then the mist above the altar darkened and seemed to congeal, slowly forming itself into the shape of a man.
He was tall, wearing flowing black robes. He was obviously Asian, with what Daly immediately thought of as a Fu Manchu mustache. His face was refined, cultured - and very angry. And he was looking right at Sergeant Daly.
He raised his arms and spread them wide, and a black glow crept up them from his body. He seemed to take a step forward and then float upward, until he was looking down at the group. He glared at Daly, finally saying, "You have upset My plans, wounded My servant, killed My slaves, and now forced Me to reveal Myself. You have interfered in the plans of a god, mortal, and now you will suffer as do the damned."
Wisdom said, "Oh, bloody hell, not another of these wankers."
The man shifted his glare momentarily, and a black beam shot from his eyes, striking Wisdom and bowling him over. Wisdom curled into a ball, his body writhing and convulsing. The man said, "Yours will be the lesser punishment, wretch, but you will suffer for your insolence."
The Marines opened fire before he finished the sentence, but their bullets just seemed to disappear before they reached his body. He turned a contemptuous sneer on them. "Fools! You think mere slugs of metal can stop Master Khan? Truly, your minds are as the lowest of the beasts - no, the lowest of the insects!" He gestured, and a large red band seemed to enclose and hold them.
The Phantom Eagle said, "How dare you interfere in this war? I don't know who you are, but you should have stayed in China. We'll--"
Master Khan gestured again, and the same beam of blackness which had disabled Wisdom leapt forward and enveloped the Eagle, who began screaming in pain. "You presume much, mortal, to lecture your betters. You and these others were to be the final sacrifice to appease the August Emperor of Jade, and usher in the Yu-Lan Hui - and you still will - but now your ending shall be a gruesome one, as befits your lowly status."
He gestured once more, with both hands this time, and the red bands encircled and held all of the group. "My servitors, the hsian-chou, will introduce you to an eternity of suffering between now and the ceremony, and you will know what it means to meddle in the affairs of the heavenly. Because of you I risk attracting unwelcome attention, whether from that aged trio of mages in Tibet and in America, or from the immortals in Siberia - and for that you will suffer."
He paused, as if he were listening for something. A few moments passed, and then his smile returned. "No - they are unaware, and when they are finally alerted it will be too late - Yu-Lan Hui will have arrived, and with it the past armies of K'un-Lun. You will suffer, and when the time is right you will die."
Sir Steel said, "I have heard enow." He shrugged, and his sword suddenly cut through the red bands holding him and the others, and he said, "No act of foul magicks will I allow here, sorcerer. I do pronounce a death sentence upon you, and lacking Tyburn Tree I will be the instrument of your quietus - I, and these worthy warriors beside me."
Master Khan stared at Sir Steel, then burst out laughing. "You...pronounce a death sentence...on Me?....oh, humans. You never fail to amaze Me. Little mortal, under different circumstances I would have had you impaled for that statement, but because you have amused Me, I will make your death a quick one." He pointed a glowing hand at Sir Steel. "Have you any last words?"
Sir Steel raised his sword and held it between him and Master Khan. "I shall let my sword speak for me, churl."'
The black beam stabbed forth again, but Sir Steel shifted his sword so that it caught the beam square, and the sword split the beam, and it flowed away and evaporated. Master Khan stared at Sir Steel for a moment. Captain America, seeing Master Khan distracted, hurled his shield, and before Khan could react it struck him in the stomach, knocking him over and sending him tumbling to the ground. Sir Steel leapt forward, sword raised, but Master Khan hit the ground and rolled, and while on his back gestured at the onrushing Sir Steel, and a giant yellow hand appeared and pushed Sir Steel back. By the time Sir Steel's blade had sliced through and dissolved the hand, Master Khan was back on his feet.
Daly, watching the fight, felt Bingen push her body up against his back. She whispered, "I'm sorry" and drew something on his neck.
Captain America recovered his shield and was looking for an opening when he saw Sergeant Daly stiffen; Daly's flesh greyed over and suddenly looked like stone, and his eyes were replaced by two shining red flames.
Master Khan shot a ball of flame at Sir Steel, who, moving forward towards the sorcerer, deflected it with his sword. Master Khan said, "Enough" and muttered three strange-sounding words. Two enormous hands of stone sprouted from the ground and grabbed Sir Steel; the hands instantly grew extra fingers, and they began pummeling Sir Steel, eventually forcing him to drop his sword.
Captain America, glaring at Bingen, said, "What did you do to him?" Private Wilson was pointing his rifle at Bingen. She said nothing for a moment, just gesturing from what had been Sergeant Daly to Master Khan. The creature who had been Daly lurched to his feet and began moving, with a horrid, fast, herky-jerky quality, towards Master Khan. Khan saw it coming and sent a bolt of lightning at it. The creature ignored the lightning and kept coming. Khan, frowning, flew into the air and began muttering a sentence, and the thing leapt into the air and tackled him.
Bingen said, "Private, point that rifle at your real enemy. Threatening me with it is a bad idea, and a guarantee of a shortened life-span. Captain, Sir Steel could never defeat Master Khan; his effort would be a good one, but he lacks the power. Only I have that."
Captain America split his attention between Master Khan, who was being pressed back by the thing that had been Daly, which seemed to smash through every spell that Khan had, and Bingen. He said, "You're going to change him back when he's done."
Bingen shook her head regretfully. "I'm sorry, Captain, but the formula I put on to him cannot be undone."
Captain America pointed one finger at Bingen and opened his mouth to speak, and then saw an enormous white face appear in front of him. He gasped, "Vision!" The Vision said, "Time to come home, William." And then he saw nothing more.
Author's Notes:
"Military successes are achieved only at the cost of insensate violence and fear and agony, with no bargains allowed."
I was trying, with at least part of this story, to show some respect for the sacrifices that the soldiers of World War One made. I apologize if that didn't work.
As I said in Liberators, I apologize for the language, but this is how soldiers talked, and I'm trying to reproduce the past with some faithfulness here. It's easy to forget just how common ethnic slurs were in the common parlance - but trust me, they were there.
If the name "Wilson" is familiar to you, it should be; Private James Wilson is the great-uncle of a notable Marvel superhero.
We're all familiar with "kraut" as an ethnic slur against the Germans, but "heinie" was also very popular during WW1.
Hard to remember, these days, but the US armed forces were only integrated after World War Two. Wilson's presence here is historically inaccurate, but there is a reason for his presence on the team.
In case you've never read anything on the subject, the US armed forces were called in to put down an "insurrection" in the Philippines after we beat the Spanish in 1898. What the US army/marines did there...well, it was the Vietnam, complete with war atrocities, only 60 years early.
Did you know that the word "whore" was considered quite obscene, even as recently as 1918?
These two issues may feel like they were originally one super-long issue split up at roughly the half-way point and made into two issues. That's `cause it was. Better this way than having one annual-length issue, though.
The Yu-Lan Hui is a real ceremony.
The charge-towards-the-enemy-gunners might seem stupid, unimaginative, and bad writing. Maybe so, but that's how, in large part, soldiers fought during WW1 - run right at the guy shooting at you. That's a large reason why the casualties were so unspeakably high.
Why is Captain America suddenly bulletproof? Well, you know, of course, that the Captain America seen in All-Winners is not Steve Rogers, but William Nausland, who used to be the Spirit of 76. The Spirit of 76 was a Roy "The Hack" Thomas creation, designed as a rip-off - scuse me, "homage" - to the Fighting Yank, a much better Golden Age character. Like the Yank, the Spirit of 76 had a bulletproof cloak (no explanation for which was ever given). So what did Roy "The Hack" Thomas do when he made William Nausland into Captain America II? He promptly forgot all about the cloak. (Typically stupid, for "The Hack," who never met a Golden Age character or comic he couldn't somehow screw up). My take on it is that the cloak is worn by Nausland under his Captain America uniform, and that - it being magical, he doesn't have to worry about the impact of bullets on them.
The Freedom's Five are not my creation; they were established back in Invaders #7 as being the superteam for the Allies during World War One. Whatever characterizations I've succeeded in creating of them here are my own. (I have no idea whether Sir Steel's armor was originally magical or not, but for the purposes of this story it is/was.)
"Hildegard Bingen" is not my creation; she appeared, in a somewhat different guise, in the Pryde & Wisdom limited series, which was also where F.66, the "Department of Unusual Deaths," was created.
Detective Sergeant Wisdom is my creation - he's the grandfather of Pete Wisdom, late of Excalibur and Pryde & Wisdom.
Master Khan should be familiar to any fan of Iron Fist.
Next issue: Old Guns
