Noir Camelot
Issue 1, Series 1
The Disappearance of Prof. Stern
The dark city of New Camelot stands against the wind and rain. Each raindrop is a reminder of how this city has failed its people, how the corrupt have allowed the vile to run unhindered through its underbelly.

Against all that which is malicious stands the church of Our Lady of Victory, vigilant and menacing, a reminder of things that won't stand for this corruption. The rain crushes against the stained windows, but the church will neither bend nor break. On the rooftops stand angels and gargoyles together and watch over the innocent and weak, but inside they gather, the Knights of New Camelot.

Dutch approaches the brood, stern faced and hastened in his steps. This is a serious matter, one that he did not summoned the group for in jest.

"Thank you for coming," he says. "I know it's a short notice, but this required some urgency." He stretches his arm to the door and a dame enters. An attractive specimen of the more likeable gender, she walks in hesitantly in her red dress and expensive fur coat. "These are the friends I told you about," Dutch says in as friendly a voice as he can muster. "Please, tell them what you told me."
"My name is Gwendolyn Marionette-Stern. Professor Albert Stern is my husband." And so she begins her story.

Professor Albert Stern is one of the world's leading experts in theoretical physics and specializes in research regarding Zygma Waves. He lives a good life with his wife and their son, and he is a good man. Recently, however, he has been working late on some project and won't speak about it to anyone, not even his wife. There have been secret phone-calls in the middle of the night, and sometimes he sleeps in his office or doesn't sleep at all.

Then he started avoiding people completely. First his friends, then his family. He argued once on the phone during his so-called 'secret' calls, and ignored any questions about it. Shortly thereafter, someone beat up their auto mobile with a baseball bat. The Professor was shocked but lied to his wife; said it was nothing, just a prank. That same night, three nights ago, his office burned down and the police said he had died in the fire.

"But I know he is alive," Gwendolyn said with a tissue to her eye. "Yesterday morning, I noticed that someone had entered our home and taken something from the safe. Albert was the only person who could have opened that safe, and he did it in a hurry. It was still open when I woke up and nothing else had been moved." She gracefully wiped away a rogue tear that had escaped down her cheek.

"Please," she implored. "Sebastian needs his father and I need my husband. Can you find him?"

Noir Camelot
Issue 1, Series 1
The Disappearance of Prof. Stern
Somewhere Inside Our Lady of Victory

Father Brian O'Brien aka Dutch adjusted his clerical collar as his eyes tried to pierce the thoughts of the brooding countenances of the Knights of New Camelot.

Dutch had fallen out of favor with his superiors in the National Intelligence Agency (NIA) for which he and his friend Murk had done some rather 'dirty business' as mercenaries several years past.

Murk had moved on with his life, while Dutch had gotten more entrenched in the devious actions and cloak and dagger aspects of the NIA, until an Op had gone wrong and Dutch was hammered as the one who was responsible for the 'most unfortunate incident' by his NIA superiors, who were covering their own assets and needed a 'fall guy' to blame and discipline.

So his superiors had banished Dutch to this 'Hell Hole' in the underbelly of New Camelot, given him a new identity as Father Brian O'Brien, financed the renovations to Our Lady of Victory church and assigned him to the 'Mayor's Task Force Against Crime' with the intention of punishing Dutch; while assigning him the covert task of uncovering the vast network of saboteurs linked to the Crime Syndicates operating under the darkness of New Camelot.

Murk was the only one of the group privy to this knowledge, as the other members of the Knights of New Camelot knew Dutch only as Father Brian O'Brien, the sidekick of the Zilver Wreker.

However, the outcast operative had fully embraced his new undercover guise as Father Brian O'Brien, adapting to his new personae as a divinely granted form of 'penance' for his past actions that had bloodied his hands with his 'dirty work' for the NIA; affording him the opportunity of publicly reaching out to help the unfortunates in the community surrounding Our Lady of Victory church.

His gaze fell upon Murk and stayed fixed and unmovable, until his friend made a response, the eyes of the 'Good Father' transmitting an unspoken message that the one now known to the outside world as the Zilver Wreker (Silver Avenger) owed Dutch a countless number of favors, including coming to the aid of this distraught woman.

Dutch aka Father O'Brien was convinced in his own mind that the disappearance of Professor Albert Stern was somehow linked to the assignment that his superiors in the NIA had dumped into his lap.

Murk had already made his decision to help the woman, secretly salivating at the beauty in the red dress and expensive fur coat, so he merely nodded his assent to Dutch that the Zilver Wreker was 'in'.

It was raining in the city. It was the hard rain, the cold rain, the kind of rain that cuts through skin and bone and chills you to the very soul with the knowledge of your own mortality. The kind of night that nobody wants to be caught outside and the kind of night that where evil thinks it holds sway of the city. As the rain dripped off my fedora and soaked through the black overcoat I was wearing, I stood there and thought to myself – not tonight.

I was standing on the rooftop of the Tip-Top building when I heard the scream. I looked down to see a woman running down a blind alley with four young hooligans in pursuit. She had abandoned her high heels and her purse in hopes to get away from the men chasing her but they weren’t interested in money or fashionable pumps. They were hunting her.

She found out that the alley had no escape all too soon and screaming for help. The leader of the gang laughed and approached her saying, “Scream all you want lady. Nobody is gonna hear you and nobody is gonna help you!”

Sounds like my cue.
I leapt down from the rooftop and landed between her and the boys. They weren’t expecting trouble, and certainly not trouble my size. “You are absolutely right there kid.” I said, drawing myself up to my full height and looking down on them, “Nobody is gonna help, and I’m Mr. Nobody.”

I punched the leader in the chest, lightly, cause didn’t want to kill the kid. He was young, he could still learn. Got him in the air nicely with some hang time and then he landed in the garbage dumpster. Gave me an idea too.

I thought the three would scatter but one came at me with a knife in his hand while the other two had baseball bats. “Okay boys,” I said, “You want to play, let’s play.” The one with a knife swung at me wildly, so wildly I was more worried that he was gonna cut himself. I ended that quickly with another light tap and got him into the dumpster as well.

Two for two – my lucky night.

The baseball wannabes swung at me as well. I could have taken them out but I started the game and wanted to finish it. One of them smashed his bat over my shoulder and it shattered into pieces. “Strike One, “ I said and put him into the dumpster.

Three for three. – I should buy a race ticket.

The last one still came at me. I don’t get kids nowadays. No sense of self-preservation. I dodged a swing and said, “Strike two.” He swung wild again and again and again so I knocked the bat out of his hand and and grabbed him by his shirt and with a light toss, threw him to join his friends.

Four nothing – game over.

I walked down the alley and picked up the purse and the shoes and brought them back to the lady. Of course, she starts screaming more.

“Whoa lady! I’m the good guy!”

Scream

“You want to give me a break lady?”

Scream

“I said STOP IT!” I shouted. She finally stopped screaming but she still looked at me with fear in her eyes. I hate that look. She had nothing to fear from me. “Here is your stuff.” I said handing her the bag and shoes.

She recoiled back, “Keep them!” She said.

“Umm... The shoes aren’t my size lady and I don’t think the pink purse goes with my ensemble.” I replied soberly.

She began to calm down and took the items.”Who are you? How did you ...?”

“Me? I’m Nobody lady. Mr. Nobody. As to how, well that would need more time than I have.” I dug into my pockets and grabbed some change, “Here! You go to the corner outside this building and there’s a grocery named Wong. He has a payphone. Call the police or a friend or whatever. I’ll watch you from the rooftop to make sure you are safe. Normally I'd stay but I have a date.”

She nodded at me, “Thank you. For everything.”

I tipped my hat to her, “Lady, that just made my night.” And I leapt up to the top of the building, watching her as she ran to Wong’s place. Then it dawned on me – I was gonna be late!

I ran across rooftop and jumped from building to building towards the church of Our Lady of Victory. I was making really good time despite the rain and was almost at the church when it hit me – The big Oak tree out back of the church. I crashed through the branches and rolled to the ground. Branches fell all around me and when I looked up there was a large man shaped gap in the tree. So much for my lucky night.

Damn it. I need to get some all-weather gear. Maybe Wreaker could help me with that.
I entered through the dark side of the church and slipped into the building and into the main chapel. Everyone was there already and Father O’Brien was looking at me funny. Actually, everyone was, and then I realized that I still had a branch of the oak tree stuck in my jacket. I pulled it out and leaned it against the altar, “Umm sorry about the oak tree, Father, “I said, “It fought valiantly.”

(some sort of Priestly reply)

"Thank you for coming," he says. "I know it's a short notice, but this required some urgency." He stretches his arm to the door and into the room walked trouble, overdressed and and in red.

"These are the friends I told you about," The padre was saying. "Please, tell them what you told me."

"My name is Gwendolyn Marionette-Stern. Professor Albert Stern is my husband." And so she begins her story. I listened up to the part where she mentioned zygma waves. That was the waves that made me the monster I am today! I wonder if her husband could fix me? Or at least make me more human again. I was so busy thinking about the possibilities that I missed the rest of what she was saying.

"Please," she implored. "Sebastian needs his father and I need my husband. Can you find him?"

“Lady, can you give us something more to go on? It is a big city and he is one guy. Where did he hang out? Who were his friends and associates? Who would he go to if he was in a jam? Any little detail might help.” I asked.

On the roof of the Church of Our Lady of Victory He stood there, among his stone-wrought brethren, and, through the rain, gazed out over the city he had come to consider home in these past months. It was a night very much like this one when he had, in some small sense of the word, first revealed himself to the citizens of New Camelot. Standing here, now, with his wings folded around him against the rain that, despite its persistence, would never truly wash away the filth that plagued the city, he couldn’t help but recall that first encounter…

Her name was Aggy Hartwell and she had scarcely graduated high school. Young, excitable, and caught up in the exuberance brought on by achieving that valediction and, so, moving into the beginnings of her adult life, Aggy and a couple of her friends had ventured out into the city seeking the ‘appropriate celebration.’ Unfortunately for them, that first foray into the spectacle of speak-easies and swing dances led them into parts of New Camelot that were far darker than the sings and streetlights would ever have led them to believe. Their evening had started at what seemed to be a tame enough gin joint with a steady stream of Dapper Dans vying for the girls’ attentions, some with more success than others… again, unfortunately. It was one of these sharp-dressed charmers that had, in the end, wooed the giggling girls away from the city’s safer venues and into the far more private clutches of an underground club run by the Onigumo family.

By the time Aggy realized that someone had slipped her a Mickey, both of her friends had succumbed to their own similarly doped drinks and were being dragged into some dark backroom. Aggy herself managed to stagger out of the club and into the rain-soaked streets before the drugs took too much of a hold on her and, thanks to the biting rain and a burst of adrenaline, had even been able to outrun the two Japanese goons who had pursued her into the night for a short time. The drugs won out over her stamina and determination before long, though, and her spinning head guided her face first into the pock-marked pavement of some garbage choked alley. Her stockings and the skin on her knees alike burned away as she tumbled headlong into the trash of the dank backstreet, her hands, too, suffered scrapes and cuts as they flew out before her in a futile attempt to keep her head from ultimately bouncing off the pavement. She made a weak attempt to get back to her feet but, between the drug-tainted alcohol, the fatigue, and, now, likely, a concussion, Aggy found that she scarcely had the energy to scream when the Onigumo thugs finally caught up to her.

That scream, if she had even let it loose, at all, got snatched away by the wind that seemed, suddenly, to come from all around her… or, perhaps, muffled by the ruffling pop-pop-pop of what sounded like an enormous pair of wings just above her head… Aggy tried to scream again and, at the same time, lift her eyes to see just what it was she was screaming about, but her vision was oh so blurry and her head so very heavy that all she could remember for a long moment was a brilliant flash of light followed by another powerful, omnidirectional gust of wind… and, then, the sensation of… flying?

When she awoke, some short while later, Aggy found herself lying on the grass amidst a small copse of trees on the edge of Excalibur Park… miles from where she last remembered being and farther, she was sure, than she would have been able to make it on foot in what certainly must have been the very short time that had passed. She blinked in confusion, reached up to touch the spot on her head where it had met the street and, only then, when her fingertips failed to find the expected bump or cut or even trickle of blood, did she realize that a curious winged creature crouched beside her. Aggy nearly screamed again but something about the reassuring, yet, somehow sad smile he offered when her eyes met his stifled the scream and, instead, evoked another blink.
His sky-blue eyes sparkled from behind the long, raven-hued tendrils of hair that fell across his face and, despite the fact that he was clad in what appeared to be some sort of ancient armor worked in silver and blue, and had an enormous pair of blue-black wings issuing from his back that, now, sheltered them from the rain that fell on New Camelot, she felt more comforted by the creature’s presence than afraid of its appearance. Aggy opened her mouth to speak, realized that she had no idea what to say, and, offering a sheepish grin, closed it again.

The creature said nothing, either, merely returned the smile, offered a faint nod and placed his hand gently over the wound on her knee.

Aggy managed a squeak as the creature’s hand began to glow and she felt a tingling warmth spread through her… and a stunned gasp when the creature’s hand moved away to reveal clean, undamaged skin where, just an instant ago, it was a ruined as her stockings still were. “Are… Are you an angel, Mister?”

The question seemed to confuse him and, for an instant, that soft, enigmatic smile melted into something of a frown as he seemed to consider the answer. His wingtips seemed to flutter, then, in an attempt to flick the rain away and, the gentle smile returning as he mended the scrapes on her other knee, answered; “I don’t know… I… I am only Samael…”

Aggy Hartwell had told Samael about the friends who had been with her, that night, and, after he had seen her safely home, he had spent the next two weeks in search of them, eventually locating them (and a half dozen other opium-addled young women) locked in a shipping container on a ship (owned by one of the Onigumo Family’s interests) bound for Japan. Samael suffered grievous injuries in rescuing and returning the girls but, also, garnered more than a little suspicion and consternation as to his appearance… the populace of New Camelot seemed more interested in pointing out what was “wrong with him” as oppose to what he might have done “right”… and, so, he had flown away in hopes of finding a place where he might hide and recover from his wounds (which he found to be no small task for a ‘circus freak’). It was during this time… and, after The New Camelot Herald published an article, based on an interview with a Miss Agatha Hartwell, titled Saved by an Angel… that Father O’Brian had somehow managed to find him… offer him some sort of refuge… and, better, still, a chance to belong somewhere.
“…Are you an angel, Mister?”

Samael sighed, tearing his gaze away from the rain-swept city and allowing it to pan over the assemblage of sculpted seraphim with whom he shared the church’s roof. “I don’t know,” was still his answer to this day… he couldn’t remember what he was… where he was from… but he did know, thanks to Father O’Brian and those others who, from time to time, the Father summoned to Our lady of Victory, that he had a place and a purpose, here, and, if this city needed an angel, he may someday answer “yes” if he could. The summonses issued by the good Father would go a long way towards leading him on the path to that acceptance and, so long as O’Brian called on him, as was the case, again, tonight, Samael would answer with that goal in mind. As his sigh washed away on the rain, so, too, did Samael vanish from the rooftop of the old church, leaving his stone-faced brothers to keep their vigil while he (in the company of those others Father O’Brian had taken to calling The Knights of New Camelot) went to watch over another of New Camelot’s citizens from a much closer vantage point. This one’s name was Gwendolyn Marionette-Stern and her husband had gone missing.

Samael emerged from an alcove into the meeting area and smiled his greetings to the others assembled there. When all of them had arrived, Father O’Brian cleared his throat and said; "Thank you for coming. "I know it's a short notice, but this required some urgency."
The priest stretched his arm to the door, then, and an attractive woman in a red dress and expensive fur coat, sauntered hesitantly in. "These are the friends I told you about," the priest offers as the woman looks them over with as much trepidation as were belied by her steps. "Please, tell them what you told me."

The woman nodded and, after a moment, began her tale…"My name is Gwendolyn Marionette-Stern. Professor Albert Stern is my husband…"

Gwendolyn told them of Albert’s work in theoretical physics and his specialized research into Zygma Wave and how, despite being a “good man” and a “loving husband and father”, he had been working on something of late that, she feared, might have had something to do with his disappearance. She told them of secret phone-calls in the middle of the night, of Albert having slept in his office or not at all... and then, before things got really bad, becoming an utter recluse, avoiding everyone. Three nights ago, following an argument she had overheard on one of her husband’s “secret phone calls,” their car had been vandalized and, shortly thereafter, Albert’s office burned to the ground, apparently, with the Professor still inside… at least according to the Police.

"But I know he is alive," Gwendolyn said with a tissue to her eye. "Yesterday morning, I noticed that someone had entered our home and taken something from the safe. Albert was the only person who could have opened that safe, and he did it in a hurry. It was still open when I woke up and nothing else had been moved." She gracefully wiped away a rogue tear that had escaped down her cheek.

"Please," she implored. "Sebastian needs his father and I need my husband. Can you find him?"

“Lady,” Nobody rumbled, then, “can you give us something more to go on? It is a big city and he is one guy. Where did he hang out? Who were his friends and associates? Who would he go to if he was in a jam? Any little detail might help.”

“Yes,” Samael said, then, stepping forward, himself, and regarding the woman curiously, “and, maybe, after you’ve given us those details, you might allow us to accompany you home and, perhaps, have a look at your husband’s safe?”

Noir Camelot
Issue 1, Series 1
The Disappearance of Prof. Stern
Inside the Clover Dreamer
5 Hours Previously
His name is Zilver Wreker. At least that is the name he is known by when he is in costume. Out of costume he is known as 'Murk' because of his dark and brooding countenance, especially when he frequents the 'Clover Dreamer' pub.

He blends into the background, sitting at a table in the corner, a brown fedora pulled low over his brooding blue eyes, as he listens to the conversations in his native English; with an ear to the phrases of Italian or Japanese that will sooner or later betray the criminal elements he hunts. [He learned these two languages during his training as an Espionage Mercenary].

The police rarely intrude into this part of town. Murk blends in as he smokes a Reefer or puffs on a Hash Pipe, but he cordially declines the invitations to partake of the opiates offered freely.

He is not desperate enough to bed down with any of the 'Mollies' as he calls them, opiated whores who have no clue where they are or who they are entertaining.

No one suspects that Murk is the Zilver Wreker.

He sips an ale or puffs a pipe, collecting the information that he seeks, easing the pain of memories that haunt and ache his alert brain.

Only his friend 'Dutch' knows his dark secret. Only Murk knows the secret of his friend Dutch. Both were mercenaries in a former life. Murk more ruthless than Dutch. They left that life behind them, or that is what Murk was led to believe.

"Dutch sure got himself in a mess with the NIA this time!" thought Murk as he maintained an alert eye to his surroundings in the Clover Dreamer pub.

His Zilver Wreker costume had been left behind at his Sanctum Sanctorum, because Murk was merely relaxing this late afternoon, or that is how it appeared to any of the patrons of the Clover Dreamer pub.

He could have covered it beneath the wide shoulder and tapering sleeves of his beige trench coat, but he had come here to casually gather some information, while enjoying a puff and a brew.

His double-breasted trench coat with two sets of buttons down the front of the torso, had quickly shed the water that had drenched Murk, as he made his way to the pub through the pelting rain.

The coat was cut fairly loose in the body, but was not baggy and could have easily covered his alter ego costume, had he deemed it necessary. The belted waist and very wide, pointed lapels increased the impression of broad shoulders and a wide chest.

Although such a coat was worn by a wide range of social classes, it was considered stylish everyday outerwear for middle class businessmen.

Therefore, Murk was able to blend in with the clientele at the Clover Dreamer, while he kept an ear open for any loose talk regarding the local New Camelot Crime Families: the Lisoretti family, the Midnight Gang or the Onigumo family.

The Clover Dreamer serves as a somewhat neutral playground for the minions of these families to interact with one another, according to the terms of an uneasy truce that designated certain night clubs and pubs as 'safe zones' for the local gunsels.

As Murk thoughtfully puffed on his hand crafted hash pipe, a well endowed brunette waitress coyly approached our unknown hero, playfully eying the ruggedly handsome man at her table station.

"What'll it be ... Murk ... ale ... or ... Gail ... ???"
The waitress motioned with a simultaneous toss of her light brown shoulder length hair, combined with a seductive glance with her deep brown sultry eyes, towards a young lady across the room, surrounded by a group of revellers who were looking her over like an item at auction, but it was obvious to Murk that Gail was drowning in the effects of the opiates that kept her ... should we say ... manageable.

"Clover Ale!" he barked serenely, as the waitress playfully retreated to fetch the famous 'House Ale' of the Clover Dreamer pub.

Murk kept an intent gaze in the direction of the opiated whore named Gail, while alertly keeping an eye and an ear open for any clues he could use later this night or sometime in the near future.

"Too bad that looker Gail is a 'Mollie'!" reflected Murk as he focused upon who her handler might be? "She could keep me warm on a night like this ... but too bad she be a 'Mollie' ... someone should be made to pay for ruining her life!"
A few minutes later he was thoughtfully sipping his mug of cold Clover Ale, watching and waiting to discover who the pimp was who handles the 'Prosty' Gail.

He sat there for an hour or more, snatching traces of conversation about a heist here, a hijacking there, but nothing that might lead him to the whereabouts of suspected saboteurs.

He thought about the explosion and the simultaneous lightning bolt that caused the burning chemicals to transform his life forever, from that fateful night he was investigating a band of saboteurs suspected of targeting the Carder Chemical Plant.

For another half hour he relived the haunting memories of that fateful night, all the while sipping Clover Ale and drawing long puffs on his hash pipe to ease the pain of remembering:

The pain throbbing in his head was pushing his thoughts so far away in the recesses of his clouded mind that he could barely hear them calling for his attention.

His eyes were swollen nearly shut with the taste of his own blood choking and gurgling in his throat, as the labored breathing of his lungs from the kicks to his ribs and the merciless beating to his back and face had left him a crumpled mass, about to flat line, if he failed to rouse himself back to semi consciousness in time to try to escape his impending doom.

As he struggled to his feet and began shuffling his battered body towards the nearest exit, a slowly burning fuse simultaneously ignited a strategically secreted series of explosives; causing the Carder Chemical Plant to burst forth with a cacophony of sounds and brilliance, as an assorted array of flaming chemicals sought to extinguish his life in the blink of an eye!

An inexplicable lightning bolt struck the fleeing man at the precise moment an undetermined combination of flaming chemicals engulfed its prey, hurling him through a nearby concrete wall, without a trace of his passing through the unyielding obstacle!
"I never dreamed in a million years that I would be able to pass through walls without suffocating and leap further than any man I ever saw jump!"
Murk was still lost in thought when the amorous waitress coyly approached him regarding another refill, but she caught his gaze in the direction of the 'Mollie' named Gail, who was still the object of much assessment from a small gathering of lecherous men.

"Gail is a Virgy ... a First Timer ... you interested ... Murk ... ???”
"Not My Type!"
Murk rose to his feet, all of 5' 6" with 120 lbs well proportioned on his 30 year young frame, but his black hair and brooding blue eyes naturally disguised his trail worn years.

The waitress involuntarily sucked air into her lungs, hungering for some private intimate time with Murk, while blurting out, "Just what is your type ... Murk ... ???"
Murk stepped forward, handing her some money to pay his bill, gently squeezing the left cheek below her waist, while planting a light kiss on the right cheek of her expectant face, then whispered huskily:

"No Time!"
Then, without further ado, he headed out a side door and disappeared from view, into the rain swept darkness enveloping the underbelly of New Camelot.

Another 45 minutes passed before the Virgy 'Mollie' named Gail was half dragged by two surly men, out the back door and into the dark alley behind the Clover Dreamer.

Waiting out of sight on the rain swept rooftops was Murk, still without his Zilver Wreker costume, but well able to come to the aid of this most unfortunate 'innocent' young woman!

As the two men tried to stuff the helpless opiated young woman into the back seat of a waiting sedan, the unseen hero made a prodigious leap, planting each foot in the back of each ruffian.

The woman unaware, did not witness Murk grabbing each battered ruffian by the back of their coats, before making another prodigious leap directly into a nearby concrete wall; resulting in Murk passing through unharmed, while the two ruffians lay in the alley bleeding and broken!

Murk wasted no time in returning to aid the helpless woman!

He took her gently into his arms, then disappeared with her into the rain swept night, making leap after prodigious leap, until she was safely transported by the Zilver Wreker to the waiting refuge known to the dark denizens of the community as Our Lady of Victory church.

Outside in the pelting rain stood the majestic form of Father Brian O'Brien, brandishing his long sword in defiance of the thunderings and lightnings that periodically exaggerated the form of the man that Murk had known for years as Dutch.

The 5' 10" 130 lbs black haired, blue eyed 'Clergy Man' was a well seasoned 32 years of age, more trail worn than most priests from the underbelly of New Camelot.

But he played his role well, demonstrating with his long sword that any undesirable activity against the church he now oversaw, would not go lightly unpunished by his firm hand ... and if necessary ... the blade he wielded in full public view ... as an exercise of restraint ... or promised retribution!

"What have we here ... My Son?"
Dutch fairly chuckled as Murk bristled at his condescending words!

"A 'Mollie' ... a Virgy 'Mollie'!"
"Come My Son!"
Murk played the part of an obedient Parishioner, rather than argue with his long time comrade in arms!

"I was wondering what was delaying Murk?" thought Dutch as he played the part of Father Brian O'Brien far better than Murk thought possible!

"Dutch better watch himself with that public sword play!" thought Murk as he followed his friend to a familiar chamber where Gail would begin the long process of drying out and receiving a new life within the confines of Our Lady of Victory.

"You better get in costume!"
"Why?"
"I have called an assembly of the Knights of Camelot within the hour!"
Murk nodded and went his way to his underground Sanctum Sanctorum, to make the necessary preparations for the ordered conclave.

"What kind of mess has Dutch gotten himself into now with those Stinkeroo Biggies from the National Intelligence Agency?"
So the Zilver Wreker donned his costume and hastened with short leaps, passing through concrete walls, to be the first one assembled in the usual meeting place, that Father Brian O'Brien secretly set aside for the Knights of New Camelot.

Once seated in his accustomed position, his back to the wall with a full view of everyone who would be assembling with Father Brian O'Brien, he began inspecting his gear.

His Black Body Armor was secure beneath his black leather jacket; his Mask was fully operational with its capabilities of Darkvision and Penetrating Concealment; his Silver Pistols and vast array of silver bullets were at the ready when needed; his Silver Knuckleduster was also available to loosen the lips of the hardest nut to crack, whenever the need for his type of interrogation arose; his Silver Knife was sharp and well balanced; whereas, his mercenary boots, pants and shirt underneath his Black Body Armor were comfortable enough to weather the toughest assignment that Dutch could offer!

Soon his fellow Knights of New Camelot were assembled with Father Brian O'Brien, curious as to why they had been summoned together on this dark and dreary rain soaked evening?

"Thank you for coming," he says. "I know it's a short notice, but this required some urgency." He stretches his arm to the door and a dame enters. An attractive specimen of the more likeable gender, she walks in hesitantly in her red dress and expensive fur coat. "These are the friends I told you about," Dutch says in as friendly a voice as he can muster. "Please, tell them what you told me."
Gwendolyn Marionette-Stern introduces herself and explains her plight as best she can, then breaks down in tears, before anyone can respond or question the woman!

The gaze of his old friend Dutch fell upon Murk and stayed fixed and unmovable, until his friend made a response, the eyes of the 'Good Father' transmitting an unspoken message that the one now known to the outside world as the Zilver Wreker (Silver Avenger) owed Dutch a countless number of favors, including coming to the aid of this distraught woman.

"What kind of mess has Dutch gotten himself into now with those Stinkeroo Biggies from the National Intelligence Agency?" These thoughts and suspicions kept repeating and echoing down the halls and corridors of the Zilver Wreker's tortured memories!

Dutch aka Father O'Brien was convinced in his own mind that the disappearance of Professor Albert Stern was somehow linked to the assignment that his superiors in the NIA had dumped into his lap.

Murk had already made his decision to help the woman, secretly salivating at the beauty in the red dress and expensive fur coat, so he merely nodded his assent to Dutch that the Zilver Wreker was 'in'.

The costumed vigilante had many questions, but he thought it wiser to allow his fellow Knights the opportunity to quiz their attractive guest, while he enjoyed the view!

"Mighty strange that Professor Stern would neglect bedding down with those shapely legs ... and even more puzzling that he would disappear without her!"
Murk leaned forward to measure the breathing of the distraught woman, focusing on the swell and heaving of her enticing bosom, straining against the confines of her red dress.

Then he looked deep into the eyes of Gwendolyn Marionette-Stern as he asked one burning question:

"Where Is Your Son?"

Jack had been waiting outside, on the roof of Ketchum's Hardware Store, for little over twenty minutes. He had been following two of Lisoretti's thugs, waiting for the right moment. The goons had entered the Henry's Butcher Shop, no doubt making their "protection" rounds.

The officer could hear a bit of a scuffle taking place inside the shop... smashing of glass and the knocking over of some items. Still he waited... the moment was right just yet.

Moments later, the goons exited, one laughing, the other lighting a cigarette and counting bills. They entered their car, and began making their way back to Lisoretti. Jack followed along the rooftops, a sheet of ice forming under his feet, allowing him to slide along effortlessly. He knew their route well, knew they would soon be travelling along Riverside Dr... knew that soon the moment would be right.

He let the car turn onto Riverside before slide down from the rooftops and coming up behind the thugs. He could see the driver take sudden notice of their tail, nudging his companion to deal with the threat. The side window rolled down and the goon leaned out to face Jack, tommy gun in hand. Jack could hear the rat-tat-tat as the bullets hammered out of the machine gun.

Jack was not shaken, weaving his ice slide a bit so that most of the bullets missed. The few that hit simply lodged into the thick layer of ice that had at one time been his bullet-proof vest. The officer sent an ice stream at the goon's gun, encasing the weapon. The sudden weight wrenched the gun from his hand and it clatter to the roadside. The driver tried to speed up, but Jack caught up with little effect. Approaching the driver's side, Jack motioned for the driver to roll down the window. The man complied. "Pull over," Jack said simply.

"Screw you," the driver replied. His partner leaned over, pistol in hand and emptied the clip into Jack. While he felt the impact, none penetrated.

"The bridge is out, boys," Frost stated, as they approach the bridge. "Pull over now."

"Go to hell, Frost," the diver sneered, as he hammered the gas petal.

Jack moved to directly above the car. Just as the goons were about to hit the bridge, the officer unleased a blast of ice in front of the vehicle forming a slightly curved ramp. The driver attempted to stop, but it was too late. The wheels locked up as they hit the ramp and the car slid up and over the guardrails into the frigid waters of the river. Jack watched briefly as gravity pulled the car into the cold, dark depths. He didn't wait around to see if the goons survived.

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Jack made his way to the church. O'Brian had made contact earlier in the day, saying he had a case that had come up that needed solving... some lady in need of some big, damn heros.

"Sure thing, Father," had been Jack's reply. A law-abiding citizen of New Camelot needing some help was the officer's bread-and-butter.

Now, late in the evening, Jack had made his to the church. He entered in through the bell tower, sliding down the spiral staircase, and made his way to their regular meeting space. Samael and Zilver were already present, and Jack suspected Nobody would arrive soon enough.

Father O'Brian entered in with their victim, a lovely woman... and, sure enough, Nobody entered in with all the finesse of a bull, a large branch protruding out from his trenchcoat.

"Foilage is a good look for you, chum," Jack quipped quietly to Nobody.

Jack listened intently to woman as she gave her statement... a missing-person report, possibly kidnapping. He allowed his partners the first round of questioning, taking in all the information.

The fellas were on the right track... a visit to the scen of the crime was needed to collect some more evidence, hopefully give them some leads.