Re: Crimson Avenger - Promises To Keep (pt 2)
- --- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., starsky_hutch76 <no_reply@y...>
> I'm really enjoying this. There's just one point of issue. WhileOkay, so before I send the file for archiving, I'll change the line
> in the Nebula Man's realm, he underwent physical changes because
> the Nebula Man molded him to what he thought a Super hero should
> look like for their games. So now, he's a good deal bigger than he
> was before his dissappearance.
in the first chapter from "short, slender" to "tall, muscular".
- --- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., immortalwildcat <no_reply@y...>
> --- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., starsky_hutch76 <no_reply@y...>he
> > I'm really enjoying this. There's just one point of issue. While
> > in the Nebula Man's realm, he underwent physical changes because
> > the Nebula Man molded him to what he thought a Super hero should
> > look like for their games. So now, he's a good deal bigger than
> > was before his dissappearance.Cool, THe bit with the cigarettes was a nice touch! I could just
> Okay, so before I send the file for archiving, I'll change the line
> in the first chapter from "short, slender" to "tall, muscular".
> da 'Cat!
imagine him thinking, "But the doctor in the magazine ad in Life
Magazine said they were good for me!"
- --- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., libbylawrence <no_reply@y...>
>I wonder. It seems like it would be drastically different. Especially
> I wonder what he'd think regarding racism and the decades since his
> disappearance? Some improvement? Not enough?
considering some of the things that happened in his time.
Rqacism is a different issue for people of Asian descent, though. If
someone marries a person of Asian descent, people barely acknowledge
the fact that it's an interracial marriage. My brother married a girl
from Beijing and people didn't even flinch. I have a feeling that a
few eyebrows might've been raised if she'd been from Kenya.
- --- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., starsky_hutch76 <no_reply@y...>
> --- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., libbylawrence <no_reply@y...>Such as? The Japanese conquest of Korea and attempted conquest of
> > I wonder what he'd think regarding racism and the decades since
> > his disappearance? Some improvement? Not enough?
> I wonder. It seems like it would be drastically different.
> Especially considering some of the things that happened in his
China? The cementing of Communist rule in China? The internment of
Asians (regardless of their nationality) in the USA?
>I think this has to do with the perceived assimilation of ASians
> Racism is a different issue for people of Asian descent, though.
> If someone marries a person of Asian descent, people barely
> acknowledge the fact that it's an interracial marriage. My brother
> married a girl from Beijing and people didn't even flinch. I have
> a feeling that a few eyebrows might've been raised if she'd been
> from Kenya.
into the mainstream US culture. Asian immigrants still come to the
US, I think, with the attitude that "we are in the United States, we
will do things as a US citizen does them." Other minorities seem to
have shifted toward a "I am of xxx descent, I must preserve my xxx
heritage and culture within the US culture" viewpoint.
Wing had already spent roughly 10 years in the United States before
his apparent death, and had probably become a naturalized citizen.
He worked for and with a man who was portrayed as a social crusader,
so he would have long been aware of both the best and the worst of
American culture. As such, he would note the improvements that have
been made, and would feel hurt at some of the areas where we've not
improved or even gotten worse.
I've actually touched on this, though very lightly, in a chapter
that I've finished but not yet posted.
- Wing How and Linda Travis sat on a balcony, looking out over the
"You always did like sitting out at night, didn't you?" he asked.
"It's the only time that this city seems peaceful. You can look out
there and almost imagine that we're living up to the promise of a
"From what I've been hearing, we aren't quite there yet, are we?"
Wing sighed as he looked out toward the river. "Lee never stopped
believing that we could do better."
"I know. He and Dad were two of a kind. Remember, you taught me to
read with Uncle Lee's editorials." Linda leaned her head back, eyes
closed, a smile on her face.
"Well, I figured that if I was going to be teaching you, I should
try teaching you more than just reading. That's how Lee taught me to
read." Wing chuckled. "At least I had a pupil who understood
"Awww, Wing, I still remember those nights I spent at Uncle Lee's
penthouse. He was supposed to be babysitting me, but it was always
you that looked after me." Linda picked up a wineglass and took a
sip. "Of course, it wasn't until many years later that I found out
why he was gone most nights. And then you even joined in on the
"Yes, though I didn't start until the fall of '42. Poor Lee. He
tried his best to keep me out of danger, but it didn't work out that
"Oh? How did that all come about?"
Wing leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out in front of
him. "Well, it all started when Lee was sent to jail."
- September, 1942
It all started with one of Lee's editorials. In it, he accused Joey
Scarapelli of running a smuggling operation through his plumbing
warehouse down on the East River. Scarapelli was a respected
businessman, a backer of politicians and the first man to donate to
any charitable cause on the East Side. The paper hit the street at
five in the morning, and by noon the district attorney had a team of
investigators hauling files out of Scarapelli's home, office,
warehouse and his cabin in the Adirondacks. What was more surprising
was that, by four in the afternoon, Lee Travis was standing before
Judge Horace Cramer.
"Mr. Travis, the charges levied by your paper against Joseph
Scarapelli are most serious. Not only do you accuse him of
smuggling, but you infer that he is doing so with the intention of
aiding European spies within the United States. The Police
Commissioner himself has come down here to obtain further warrants
to search properties owned by Mr. Scarapelli's business associates.
Now, Judge Boorman may have seen fit to issue warrants this morning
based on the strength of your claims, but I require more evidence."
The judge scowled at Lee from his seat at the bench. "Where did you
get the information for your editorial?"
"I'm sorry, Your Honor, but I cannot answer that question. My
information comes from a source within Joey Scarapelli's
organization, and if I were to reveal his name his life would be in
"Your Honor, please! If Scarapelli is involved in such actions as
the Globe-Leader has accused, then surely any of the people involved
are not worthy of such protection!" Lee and the judge, as well as
everyone else in the courtroom, turned to face the District
Attorney. "If one of these scumbags is killed, that's just one less
body to take up space in the state pen!"
"Mr. Travis, I must agree with District Attorney Shapiro. I offer
you a choice: either reveal the name of your informant, or I will
have you taken to the City Jail until such time as you are willing
"Your Honor, I can not place my own convenience before the safety of
my source." Lee turned toward the bailiff and extended his
wrists. "I choose jail."
As cameras clicked and flashbulbs burst in flashes of light, the
courtroom went wild with questions. I tried to get close to Lee, but
I could not get through the press of reporters and police. By the
time I got near the front of the courtroom, they had led him out. I
fought my way back through the crowd to the exit, and sprinted
around the building. The court house sat back-to-back with the
police station, and I slipped through an alley, vaulted a fence, and
jogged around to the front. When I went inside, I found the desk
seargeant and told him that I was there to see Lee Travis. He
arranged for me to meet with him in one of their interrogation rooms.
- Very nice. I like this a lot. One of the things I like the most about
this club is the opportunity to see much more of heroes like the
Crimson Avenger than we ever saw in the comics.
- It took about a half hour before they brought him in there. He told
me that he had gone through the whole fingerprinting, photographing
and paperwork routine while I was waiting. I got right to the point.
"What do you need me to do, boss?"
"Wing," he said, "I appreciate it, but there's not a whole lot you
can do. My source, he's really worried about his name being revealed.
It's not just Scarapelli that he's worried about. He told me that
there's this new boss among the gangs. The call him the Hammer, and
he's coming down real hard on any body that talks to the cops."
"Any idea who this Hammer guy is, Lee?"
"No, but even that doesn't worry me as much as the judge's insistence
on knowing my source. No other judge in the city has ever worried
about that before." Lee leaned back in his chair, looking at the
ceiling. "I wonder why that is?"
"This may sound dumb, but what if he's connected to the Hammer?" I
snapped my fingers. "Wait a second, boss! The Hammer! The judge with
gavel! You don't suppose...?"
"It sounds crazy, Wing, but this city has seen crazier things." Lee
sat back up. "As soon as my lawyer gets me out of here, I'll start
looking into it. You better get going, he's due here any minute."
"Okay, boss. I'll stop by in the morning." I left, but I was already
forming an idea. Why wait until Lee Travis was released for the
Crimson Avenger to start checking the local gathering places of the
- I rushed back to the penthouse. I opened the secret door in his
closet, revealing the sub-closet where he kept his uniforms. I pulled
one out and tried it on. There, in front of his full-length mirror, I
Lee Travis was an even six feet tall, with broad shoulders. At the
time, I was only five-foot, five inches, and I was really thin. Lee's
costume hung on my like elephant skin on a crane. I went to put it
back in its place when I spotted something.
Folded on a shelf, was a costume similar to that of the Crimson
Avenger. Like his, it had the cowl with the fin on top and the domino
mask. It had a sunburst on the chest, and a belt for the smoke
capsules. But it was like a negative image of the Avenger's costume
yellow where his was red, red where his was gold. I took it out, and
found that it was made to my size. Apparently, Lee had already
considered that I might follow in his footsteps. I donned the
costume, and slipped out of the building and into the night-time
streets of New York.
Now, I had not done more than drive the Avenger to general spots
around town, but he had told me enough of his adventures that I knew
some of his usual places for gathering information. The first was a
waterfront bar called The Wolf's Den.
It was not a very noisy place. Most of the men in there weren't
trying to be noticed, they were there to avoid notice. Still, when I
walked in, it got even quieter.
"Who da hell are you, punk?" asked a man sitting by the door. He
stood up and glared down at me."
"I'm a friend of the Crimson Avenger's! You can call me, ahh, the
Yellow Kid!" I heard a few laughs around the room at that. Like me,
at least some of them knew that the Yellow Kid was a comic strip from
the newspapers many years earlier. "I'm looking for information about
All around the room, I heard the sound of chairs being pushed back
and I saw men rising to their feet. Men like that don't like it very
much when someone is out to get one of their own. So I decided to
play it Lee's way. "Look, you know the Globe-Leader doesn't like the
Avenger, and they're trying to take down Scarapelli. Connect me with
one of his people, and we can make the paper and their boy Travis
"Way I hear it, the Avenger is one o' them masked do-gooders. Who'se
to say, we lead you to one of Scarapelli's boys, what keeps you from
turning him over to the cops?" This guy was small, hunched over a
table with a bottle of cheap booze and red-rimmed eyes.
"The cops don't talk to us, and we don't talk to them!" I replied.
"Scrap's going down," said a quiet voice. "He ain't playing ball. If
the cops don't take him down, he's gonna get hammered." I located the
one who was talking. He was tall, thin, with a long nose and narrow-
set eyes. He was standing by himself by the bar. I slipped through
the crowd and joined him.
"You one of Scarapelli's boys, or one of the Hammer's?" I asked as I
waved the bartender over.
"Used to be onna Scrap's drivers. I seen the writing on the wall,
though. This guy, the Hammer, he's got the goods on mosta the bosses
in town. Probably got the goods on your buddy, the Avenger, too."
"Can you get me to him?"
"He's got a meet set up for tonight, midnight, at the Lamb Theater."
It was already after ten o'clock. I didn't have much time. "What do
you want out of this?"
"A ticket out of New York would be nice. Got a brother in South
Dakota, maybe go see him." I reached into my belt, and sure enough,
there were some of the cards that the Avenger carried.
"Call this number tomorrow, before noon. If nobody answers, try again
the next. Day. Keep trying until you reach someone, and mention the
name of this place. You'll be taken care of."
"Yeah, sure." He sounded doubtful, but he still kept the card. I
spotted a side door and left.
- --- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., immortalwildcat <no_reply@y...>
> In Speedy's case, I don't think he appeared at all between JLA#102would
> and Crisis on Infinite Earths. By the time of Crisis, the Seven
> Soldiers would have been back in our time for nearly 10 years,
> they not? So one must assume that Roy has dealt with those issuesby
> the time we see him here. Could make for a Times Past tale, showingSpeedy did make that one appearance at the private memorial service
> all of the Seven Soldiers in the week or so after their rescue.
for Lee Travis in 1981 along with the other remaining Seven Soldiers
(minus Stripesy) -- as seen in the flashback story in INFINITY INC
#12, but I don't think he even spoke. I think it's only here, at this
club, where the character has finally been done some justice.
I agree, though, someone should write a kind of "human interest"
story for the Seven Soldiers. Perhaps it goes something like this:
It's 1972, and the Seven Soldiers of Victory have just been brought
back to the present by the JSA and the visiting JLA of Earth-1 from
the times they were displaced to back in 1948. They say farewell to
each other and promise to keep in touch, each going their separate
ways (except perhaps for Oliver Queen and Roy Harper, who were like
big brother & little brother, if not quite like father and son).
As I said, it's now 1972, and America -- and indeed the world -- has
undergone more than one "cultural revolution" since their time. Young
men are sporting long hairdos, and even the older men all seem to
have sideburns! The women are dressed much less modestly than in
their day, and the popular music all seems to be this "rock and roll"
stuff rather than the jazz/big band music of the 1940s. In short,
it's pretty jarring.
Each of the Soldiers attempts to find his way in the world in this
new era. A few of them attempt to get back into the business world
(Oliver Queen, Lee Travis). Some try to look up old friends (Roy
Harper) and some make new ones (Sylvester Pemberton). Some are lost
in the past (Sir Justin), while others are more than willing to put
the past behind them and move on (Pat Dugan, Greg Sanders).
After one week, the group meets once more for coffee in their
civilian clothes. It is the LAST time the entire group meets until
nine years in the future when Lee Travis dies.
I can see this story being very "cinematic" in scope, and I think a
writer who can really write character well, and who understands each
character well, should write this one. I'd try it myself, but I have
other stories I need to complete here first. If nobody's taken a
crack at it by the time I've finished up my other stuff, I may try
writing it then. If so, I'll let everyone know first.
- If you do it, you might want to read the Last Bullseye which detailed
what Oliver and Roy did on their return and the end of OLiver MOrgan
- If I do it, I'll definitely read that story as part of my research.
If someone else wants to do it, though, before I have a chance to get
around to it, I'll step aside.
--- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., libbylawrence <no_reply@y...>
> If you do it, you might want to read the Last Bullseye whichdetailed
> what Oliver and Roy did on their return and the end of OLiverMOrgan
> as GA.
> > Doc
I agree with your earlier sentiment that this needs to be done by a
writer with a very strong sense of characterization. Its an
important tale with seven fairly distinct personalities. Each is
going to have a different spin of this whole "time passed me by" bit.
- --- doctorquantum <the_time_trust_2000@...>
> --- In theJSAallstarstorysite@y..., immortalwildcatIronically, this reminds me of the plot to the first
> > In Speedy's case, I don't think he appeared at all
> between JLA#102
> > and Crisis on Infinite Earths. By the time of
> Crisis, the Seven
> > Soldiers would have been back in our time for
> nearly 10 years,
> > they not? So one must assume that Roy has dealt
> with those issues
> > the time we see him here. Could make for a Times
> Past tale, showing
> > all of the Seven Soldiers in the week or so after
> their rescue.
> Speedy did make that one appearance at the private
> memorial service
> for Lee Travis in 1981 along with the other
> remaining Seven Soldiers
> (minus Stripesy) -- as seen in the flashback story
> in INFINITY INC
> #12, but I don't think he even spoke. I think it's
> only here, at this
> club, where the character has finally been done some
> I agree, though, someone should write a kind of
> "human interest"
> story for the Seven Soldiers. Perhaps it goes
> something like this:
> It's 1972, and the Seven Soldiers of Victory have
> just been brought
> back to the present by the JSA and the visiting JLA
> of Earth-1 from
> the times they were displaced to back in 1948. They
> say farewell to
> each other and promise to keep in touch, each going
> their separate
> ways (except perhaps for Oliver Queen and Roy
> Harper, who were like
> big brother & little brother, if not quite like
> father and son).
> As I said, it's now 1972, and America -- and indeed
> the world -- has
> undergone more than one "cultural revolution" since
> their time. Young
> men are sporting long hairdos, and even the older
> men all seem to
> have sideburns! The women are dressed much less
> modestly than in
> their day, and the popular music all seems to be
> this "rock and roll"
> stuff rather than the jazz/big band music of the
> 1940s. In short,
> it's pretty jarring.
> Each of the Soldiers attempts to find his way in the
> world in this
> new era. A few of them attempt to get back into the
> business world
> (Oliver Queen, Lee Travis). Some try to look up old
> friends (Roy
> Harper) and some make new ones (Sylvester
> Pemberton). Some are lost
> in the past (Sir Justin), while others are more than
> willing to put
> the past behind them and move on (Pat Dugan, Greg
> After one week, the group meets once more for coffee
> in their
> civilian clothes. It is the LAST time the entire
> group meets until
> nine years in the future when Lee Travis dies.
> I can see this story being very "cinematic" in
> scope, and I think a
> writer who can really write character well, and who
> understands each
> character well, should write this one. I'd try it
> myself, but I have
> other stories I need to complete here first. If
> nobody's taken a
> crack at it by the time I've finished up my other
> stuff, I may try
> writing it then. If so, I'll let everyone know
Gilligan's Island reunion movie ( Rescue from or
Escape from or whatever the actual title was ). After
the castaways return to the world, they go their
separate ways and tried to cope with the changes in
the world. They later got together for a reunion
cruise on the Minnow II.
I think this is a good idea for the soldiers as the
earliest superhero comic series I remember is JLA
100-102 where they were returned to the present.
Do You Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Health - Feel better, live better
- At midnight, I was already in the balcony of the Lamb Theater. There
was a movie that had started at eight, and people were still leaving
when I got there just before eleven. With my mask and cowl off, and
and overcoat, it wasn't hard to mix with the crowd and get in. Just
before midnight, a group of men came in one of the stage doors. Most
of them were the typical thugs and torpedos in suits, but one of them
was wearing black robes and a black hood over his face. That had to
be the Hammer. And it wasn't looking too good for Judge Cramer.
"All right, you guys have seen what happened to Scarapelli. It's hung
up over that newspaper guy right now, but that's how I've planned
it!" said the hooded figure.
"If you're trying to cut Scraps out, why are you putzing around with
the newspaper guy?" asked one of the suited men.
"Cause he got to one of Scarapelli's men. We don't know which one,
and he might be working for one of us. By putting the squeeze on
Travis, we find out who the stool pigeon is!" I heard several of the
men murmur their appreciation. "I'm in a position to put that kind of
pressure on anybody our guys rat us out with."
"Not for long, Hammer!" I cried as I dropped down into their midst. I
might not have had Lee's fighting experience, but I am the one who
taught him judo, karate and savate. I was helped by the smoke
capsules I had thrown down as I jumped, which burst open and spilled
crimson smoke all over the stage. It was easy to hear them in their
confusion, and I had knocked out most of them before I got a hold of
the Hammer. I had hold of his robes in one hand, and with the other I
reached to rip the hood off of his head. "This is the end of your
plans, Judge Cramer!" I yanked it off, and saw his face. "You?!?"
That's when someone hit me with the butt of a pistol, and I fell to
the floor unconscious.
- When I came to, I was tied to a chair. I didn't move, and just opened
my eyes enough to get my bearings. The Hammer had his mask back on,
though a couple of his thugs were still lying on the floor.
"Hey, I thought the Crimson Avenger was bigger than this!" said one
of his friends. "And doesn't he wear a red costume?"
"After the way he slugged me, I don't care how big he is!" said
another. "I say we shoot him and drop his body in the river right
"No, no, gentlemen. Far better to teach a lesson to any would-be
mysterymen in this city. We'll shoot him all right, but it will be on
the steps of the police headquarters."
While they were trying to decide what to do with me, I had been
working on the ropes that bound my wrists. They had tied them tight,
but they didn't count on the heavy wristbands of my costume. Lee and
I had figured out that if we put some extra weight in the cuff of his
costume, his punches landed harder. Luckily, he had done the same
with the costume he made for me. When they tied me, the weighted band
was under the rope. As I worked my wrists back and forth within the
loops of rope, the band slid out from under it. That gave me the
slack I needed to work the knots loose; I just needed a few minutes
"We gonna take him now, boss? The truck is out back, so we can stick
him in there, chair and all."
"Yeah, take him out," replied the Hammer. That was it; out of time
and my wrists weren't free yet. I was still feigning unconsciousness,
but I had shifted my feet enough to get them under me. They were tied
together, but they weren't tied to the chair.
"Come on, Frankie, gimme a hand with him." The speaker was right
behind me. I leaned forward as far as I could, planted my feet on the
ground and stood up. The chair came up behind me, and I felt it hit
the unseen thug. I twisted at the waist, swinging the chair around to
hit the guy coming from the side. Unable to see where he was, I
missed him. That put me in position for my next move, though. I
jumped up and threw myself backwards. This brought my full weight
down on the chair.
"Yow!" I cried out as I hit. I was expecting the chair to break, like
they do in the movies. Real life doesn't work that way sometimes,
though. I looked up and saw this big ape jumping at me. I twisted
over onto my side and let him come down on the chair. His weight,
easily twice my own, broke the chair into pieces.
"Thanks!" I said as I hopped to my feet. I don't think he heard me,
though, from the way he was groaning on the floor. I looked around
and saw that there were five guys left standing, not counting the
Hammer. The first one came at me, and I stopped him with a pair of
quick jabs to the jaw. I slid one foot backward a bit and came up on
my toes, waiting for the others to charge me. They didn't keep me
waiting long. Two of them came at me from ten o'clock and two
o'clock, figuring I could stop one but not both. They were both
trying to grab me, with their arms outstretched. I grabbed the wrist
of the one on my left, and pulled him in front of me. The one on my
right plowed into him, and I kept pulling the first across in front
of me so they both tumbled off to the right. The gave me just enough
time to bring my left foot up in a reverse sweep into the stomach of
a guy trying to sneak up behind me. The last guy was smarter, though;
he had reached for a gun.
The two tacklers were already getting back to their feet as I reached
for my belt. That's when I realized they had taken it off of me
before tying me to the chair. I dove low for the gunman, tackling him
at the knees. The gun went off as he fell back into the wall, and I
heard the SPANG of lead ricocheting off of harder metal. The lighting
in the room started flickering and the shadows were moving oddly, so
I figured he had hit the light fixture. I grabbed the gun out his
hand, and threw it with a backhand at one of the guys behind me. It
struck him in the face, and he went down. I made sure the shooter was
out, and turned back to see who was left. There was only one on his
feet, and he wasn't moving too fast. I looked around for the Hammer,
and saw him running up some steps. I sprinted after him, stopping
only long enough to snatch up a broken leg from the chair and hurl it
at the last man standing. It hit him in the temple, and down he went.
I had been in the Lamb Theater a few times, and I knew that the steps
he was going up led to a series of private boxes along the side of
the theater. I could hear his steps ahead of me, and I followed him
to the uppermost box. He had stepped out into the box, and was
standing by the railing when I got there. He had removed the mask
again, I guess because it interfered with his breathing while he was
climbing. When I stepped out, he just stared at me, wild eyed.
"Damn you! You've ruined it all! I could have run this city, but now
it's all ruined!" I took a step toward him, and he raised one leg
over th railing. "Oh, no, you won't take me in! This ends on my
terms!" I reached for him, but he was too quick. He leapt over the
railing to the theater floor some thirty feet down. If it had been a
flat surface, he might have survived it, but he deliberately jumped
out over the rows of seats. I looked down at the broken body of
District Attorney Jame Shapiro.
- "All of the newspapers in town had a field day with the revelation
that D.A. Shapiro was actually an underground crime boss. Judge
Cramer relented and let Lee out of jail, and Scarapelli's case was
slated to come to trial in two month's time, with no bail allowed for
him." Wing finished telling his story to Linda Travis, the niece of
his one-time employer and crime-fighting partner. "Lee's informant
went to work for the paper later that year. And I became the Crimson
Avenger's partner in adventure."
"And now he's gone, and you're back, though I have to say there are
some real changes."
"Yes, well, being the plaything of a god-like being in his own world
can have strange effects on you." Wing flexed his arms, and beat on
his chest with a comical Tarzan yell. "I know there were a lot of
people who didn't take Wing, the crimefighter, very seriously."
"What about now? Are you going back to fighting crime?" Linda got up
and opened the door into her apartment. Wing got up to follow her
inside, carrying the wine bottle and glasses.
"Well, the other members of the Law's Legionnaires are getting back
in action, so I figure I might as well do the same. I understand that
when Lee died, there didn't seem to be many people who remembered the
Crimson Avenger. I owe it to him to make that a name that people
remember and respect again."
"I think he would like that." Linda picked up a picture of herself,
her father and her uncle, taken shortly after his return from his
trip in time. "It was strange, really. When he re-appeared, still in
his thirties while dad was in his fifties. He was really struck by
that, like he felt that the time he had left might be all that much
shorter because of the paradoxes of time travel. He gave Dad and I
his blessing in running the paper, and took off to see the world. It
wasn't too long after that when he got sick, I guess."
"Didn't he tell you?"
"No, the last I knew, he was in Thailand, then a month later the
police told us that his body was found in the harbor after that boat
exploded. As far as I know, that was the first time he had worn the
costume since he came back."
"That's what Sylvester told me, too." Wing sighed. "Well, regardless,
people will know about the Avenger now. Look, I guess I better get
going now, but I have something for you before I leave."
Linda cocked her head to the side. "For me?"
"Yes. I remembered all those nights when you came to my room, when
you finished your reading, you always wanted to look at my globe."
"Yes! You had that ivory globe, with all the layers carved inside of
"An infinity sphere, that's the closest translation for its real
name." Wing reached into the bag he had brought, and pulled out a
small box. "All of my own belongings are long gone, of course, but I
found this in San Francisco, and I wanted you to have it."
Linda opened the box and pulled out a white ball, about four inches
in diameter. It was carved with intricate designed, and through the
carved areas she could see another sphere within, then another within
that, and they seemed to go on forever. "Oh, Wing, it's wonderful!"
She looked up at him. "But you aren't going to believe this!"
Holding firmly onto the sphere, Linda walked quickly to her bedroom.
When she returned, she held a similar globe in her other hand, which
she gave to her old friend.
"Linda, is this-? Oh, my, it is!" Wing's face broke into a wide
grin. "How did you wind up with this?"
"When you and Uncle Lee disappeared, Dad kept Lee's penthouse up for
several years. When everyone finally conceded that you would not be
coming back, he asked if there was anything I wanted to remember
Uncle Lee by. There were a few things, which I still have, but I also
kept this, to remember you by."
Wing held the sphere up to the light, looking at the familiar
shapes. "Yes, with the third sphere broken. Like myself, my first
life before I came to America, my second life with Lee, then a
break." He handed the globe back to Linda and smiled. "And an
infinity of experiences ahead of me."
"Then, take this with you, to remind you of that. I'll keep this one,
as the gift you brought me, and when we each gaze into our own
spheres, we can think of each other."
Lee bent down to kiss the woman who had once been like a little
sister to him, then turned to leave. As he left the building and
walked through New York City, he was smiling.
And when he returned to California the following day, he let all of
Roy Harper's questions go unanswered. At least for a while.