Issue # 2

"Blood, Moon and Stars"
by Dale Glaser

A waxing silver moon hung low in the sky over New Orleans, and the shadows in the alleys of the French Quarter were long and dark. Hack Bartholomew didn’t mind the dark – he knew every cobblestoned inch of the Quarter like the backs of his wrinkled, ebony hands. What Hack minded was being harassed by the cops, who were willing to look the other way when the money was right but downright eager to ruin the night of any indigent they might find. Hack cursed himself for falling asleep in the park. It had just been such a nice day, not a cloud in the sky and a pretty lively, receptive, and – best of all – generous crowd on the patio at the Café du Monde. Hack had played his silver trumpet on his stool just outside Café du Monde’s patio railing from 10 in the morning until almost 7 that night, then packed it up and wandered a few yards into the park in Jackson Square. He had found an empty bench and stretched out on it with his eyes closed, enjoying the warm evening and feeling downright content.

When next he opened his eyes, Hack knew he had been asleep for hours. He couldn’t be certain how many, exactly, since he never wore a watch, but it was dark enough to let him know it was late, and deserted enough to let him know it was very late. Hack supposed he should count himself lucky that he awoke under his own power and not from the prodding of an opportunistic cop, but he resented having to shift from the sleep of the just to the flight of the bumblebee in a heartbeat. Still, it was best not to tempt fate, he told himself as he cut down the alley beside Mamma Mambo’s Voodoo Shop.

The moonlight filtering into the alley was bright enough to navigate by, yet somehow Hack managed to catch his trumpet case on an old crate stacked against a wall. Hack spun on his heel as his body jerked back in reaction to the immobilized arm carrying the instrument case. He pulled the trumpet case loose and kicked angrily at the crate, doing no damage to it whatsoever. Hack shook his head at himself. He was just an old street musician getting by day to day, who didn’t need to be picking fights with garbage in alleys, whether it tripped him up or no. Hack backed away from the crate and was about to laugh out loud at himself when he bumped into something massive that hadn’t been blocking the alley a few moments before.

Hack turned around on trembling legs, and facing the monstrosity he now shared the alley with he opened his mouth to scream. With lightning speed the beast before him raised one arm and brought it down at Hack’s head. Hack raised his trumpet case to block the blow, but to no avail. The slicing of a wicked blade killed the scream before Hack could give it voice. Blood splattered the building walls that bound the sides of the alley. Hack’s eyes grew to wide, white discs as he realized his life was rapidly draining away, urged out of newly-opened gashes by the terrified pumping of his heart. Hack clutched desperately at the figure before him. The figure responded only by slashing at Hack and providing more outlets for his blood to reach the alley floor. Hack crumpled to the beast’s feet and breathed his last.

---

Ed Baird walked into the Cat’s Meow at lunchtime, and found Jack Fenris behind the bar, pouring the red, syrupy contents of a large can into a plastic holding vat.

"Hey, Jack," Ed said, getting Jack’s attention.

"Whassup, Ed?" Jack greeted him.

"What is that?" Ed asked, indicating the fluid transfer Jack was overseeing.

"This, actually, is strawberry daiquiri mix. You have no idea how much we go through in a single night. Now that I’m working the ‘early’ shift I get to do all the mixer restocking."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, a ton." Jack looked up and locked eyes with Ed. "Seen the paper yet today?"

Ed shook his head in the negative, and Jack nodded towards a copy of the New Orleans Herald at the end of the bar.  Ed walked down the bar, grabbed the paper, and scanned the front page.  The headline just beneath the lead story caught his attention: French Quarter Killer Strikes Again.  Ed scanned the article quickly for the details, then slammed the paper back down on the bar.

"I know, I know," Jack offered.  "It's got me pretty upset, too.   What is that, now, four victims in the past couple of weeks?  Five?"

"Five," Ed confirmed, "but it's not just that.  The man who was killed last night ... I knew him.  He ... well, he was practically a fixture outside Café du Monde most of my life.  He was one of the funniest guys I knew."   Ed Baird's face tightened with anger.  "But he was homeless, he was nobody but a street performer.  The police aren't going to move any faster on this case, if they're even moving at all.  All the victims so far have been, in the police's opinion, undesirables anyway."

"So you think it's about time someone other than the police got involved?"

"Definitely. Can you contact the others?"

"Sure," Jack assured him. "I’ve got Johnny’s cell phone number, and Les’ pager. I’ll tell them both to meet us at the time and place we agreed on?"

Ed nodded. "Sundown, at the old Jax brewery."

Without another word, Ed Baird departed. Jack washed some of the sticky syrup from his hands, then picked up the phone.

---

The ripples on the surface of the Mississippi River were shimmering reflections of crimson deepening toward violet when Karnival, Valence, Hangfire and More gathered in the shadows of the Jax brewery on the river’s bank. It was the first time since apprehending the Belle Reve escapees that they had assembled in costume as Bad Blood. None of them had questioned the need to do so on this occasion; but now, as they stood facing one another, they realized some of the awkwardness of starting to function as a team.

"So … what do we do now?" More asked.

All eyes turned to Karnival. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he protested, holding out his skeletal hands as if blocking an advance. "I may be a little personally worked up over this psycho on the loose, and I know it was my idea that we go after him. But … I don’t know, that’s about where my leading the charge ends. Hangfire? You’ve got more experience than the rest of us."

"Yeah," Hangfire shrugged, "but not as a cop or a detective. I’m just an old grunt."

"What about tracking? Didn’t you learn that stuff in basic training?" Karnival pressed.

Valence rolled his eyes. "This is great. Why don’t we just split up?"

Karnival turned to him. "Because if one of us runs across the guy and gets in trouble, we don’t really have a way of getting in touch with each other."

"I did have a little urban combat training," Hangfire admitted. "I can take the point on a systematic sweep of the areas we know the killer’s been. But we’re gonna need a whole lotta luck on our side to catch the guy. Or we better hope whoever runs afoul of him tonight is a real screamer."

"It’s the best we can do," Karnival admitted. "Should we start at the location of the attack last night? Who knows, there might be something there that tips us off as far as who this guy is."

Hangfire drew one of his guns and thumbed off the safety. "All right. Valence, why don’t you take to the air. If you fly low, try to stay close to the rooftops and keep yourself hidden. If you fly high, fly very high. Karnival, you shadow me and More, you bring up the rear. Let’s move out."

Valence rose into the air to the level of the rooftops. Hangfire moved forward silently, followed by Karnival and More. Together they entered into the darkness of the Quarter’s alleys.

They combed over the recesses of the area as they approached the site of the most recent slaying, but found nothing to indicate the current location of their quarry. Soon they approached the killing ground. Peering down the alley, Hangfire could see the yellow and black police tape demarcating the crime scene. The chalk outline of Hack Bartholomew’s body was still visible. Hangfire was about to signal his teammates to move forward when he noticed movement on the opposite end of the alley. Two figures were stealthily approaching the crime scene. Hangfire raised his hand to indicate that Karnival and More should move against the alley wall.

One of the approaching figures wore a long, hooded red cloak; the other appeared to be outfitted in some kind of light red and white body armor and hi-tech helmet. Hangfire raised his weapon and lined them up in his sights, then lost them as a blur of motion obscured his field of vision.

Valence swooped down from the rooftop and landed a flying tackle on the armored one. They landed together on the alley floor just outside of the area marked by police tape. Valence raised one fist, glowing with magnetic energy, and summoned every metal scrap in the alley to surround his hand. He tried to bring the scrap gauntlet down on his opponent’s head, but the armored man caught Valence’s forearm in a strong grip and held off the attack. Valence pushed his fist down magnetically, but the other man connected with a punch thrown at Valence’s bicep. The scrap gauntlet clanged on the alley floor beside the man’s helmet as Valence cried out in surprise and pain.

Before either one could act again, the armored man’s companion threw back his cloak and raised his arms toward Valence. Under the cloak the man wore a gray suit with reflective silver trim. As he gestured at Valence, a shimmering red disc opened in the air directly behind Valence. Valence was pulled into the disc and disappeared as a second disc opened beside the first. Valence was forcefully ejected from the second disc at close range to the alley wall. The wall brought Valence’s hurtling body to a sudden stop.

Hangfire stepped out of the shadows as Valence was regaining his feet. The two strangers were poised to counter another attack from Valence; when Hangfire emerged, the armored man turned toward him. Hangfire got a clear look at the man’s armor and raised both of his hands in a stance of surrender.

"OK, enough, this looks like a misunderstanding," Hangfire insisted. "This here’s one of the good guys." With his free hand Hangfire indicated the horsehead logo on the man’s armor. "Checkmate, right?"

The man in the armor paused a moment before replying, "At one time." His helmet covered his entire face and hid his features, but he seemed to be eyeing Hangfire suspiciously. Karnival and More stepped out of the shadows as well. The former Checkmate knight took note of them and said, "You all must be the new team we’ve read about in the papers. Brought in Sudden Death and Catman a few weeks back."

"That’s us. Bad Blood," Karnival confirmed.

The tension had drained from the air in the alley. Hangfire lowered his arms, pointing one thumb at his own chest. "Hangfire," he introduced himself. He indicated each of his teammates in turn. "Karnival. More. Valence."

"Pierce," the knight said.

His companion had folded his arms over his chest. "Enigma," he said.

"So what brings you two around to our turf?" Valence asked, attempting to reassert himself into control of the situation. "Checking out the serial killer? ‘Cause the four of us should be more than enough to …"

"It’s not a serial killer," Pierce interrupted him.

"Pardon?"

"Not. A. Serial. Killer," Pierce repeated with painstaking clarity. "Doesn’t fit the profile. Look at the five victims so far. One black woman, one white girl, two young white men and one old black man. Serial killers aren’t color blind. This one’s all over the demographic map, not to mention all over the city. Not your standard operating procedure for serial murder."

"So do you know what kind of profile this killer does fit?" More asked.

Pierce was already beginning to scan the crime scene with detection equipment in his helmet. "Tell ‘em, Enigma," was his only response.

Enigma cleared his throat. "We have a suspicion, yes. And we knew that if we were right, it would be outside the scope of the local police, or even the FBI. That’s what brings us here."

"What’s your suspicion?" Valence demanded.

Enigma regarded Valence levelly. "Bear with me. This will sound somewhat unusual, but perhaps for individuals such as ourselves, the unusual is easier to accept. What we believe to be behind the killings here in New Orleans is, simply put, a monster. And not a human monster, either."

"Meaning?" Hangfire asked.

"Meaning a supernatural monster. Manifested through the use of an artifact which may have its origins in Hell itself." This brought nothing but silence from the heroes gathered in the alley, so Enigma continued. "We are working from legends and hearsay, since precious little in the way of scientific fact can be found on the subject. What we have been able to piece together is this. A small cult was formed in England centuries ago, the members of which believed themselves to be in possession of a fragment of the blade of Excalibur. This steel fragment was the prized icon of the cult, and came to be used centrally in their rituals of black magic. As time passed, what was once a large sword fragment was worn down to the size of a straight razor’s blade. This blade was attached to what some apocryphal writing refers to as a ‘moonstone’ handle and came to resemble a common straight razor. Apparently by this time, the early 1800’s, the surviving cultists felt the best way to retain their prized possession was to disguise it as a common household item held by the head of the cult."

"So this cult relocated to New Orleans?" Karnival interjected.

"Not to my knowledge, although as I have already admitted, my knowledge of the subject is far from exhaustive. The cult seems to have finally died out in the mid-1800s, and with it the careful guarding of the razor. But it is believed that centuries of exposure to demonic forces employed by the cult invested a certain controlling power in the razor blade itself, augmented by its ‘moonstone’ handle. Some theories have it that the razor fell into the hands of an unsuspecting dupe in the late 1800s who became Jack the Ripper under its influence, for example."

"Get out of here!" Valence scoffed.

Enigma shook his head. "Who knows? There is no evidence and no proof, only some written records of conjecture. The only other reference I was able to find was to a scholarly paper written in the U.S. in 1924, with the charming title of ‘Inquiry into Instruments of Demonic Possession.’ Dismissed as lunacy, of course, but it did point me towards the cult in Britain and the rest of the historical legend."

"But what made you leap from a non-profile murderer to … a demonic killer?" Karnival asked.

"Pierce accessed the police records for the slayings, including the autopsies" Enigma explained. "There was a striking savagery about them, but also some characteristics of the wounds which indicated not only a killer with superhuman strength, but also a unique weapon inflicting the damage. Researching weapons led me to the razor, and …"

"Jackpot," Pierce announced. He had been hunched over near the alley wall; now he stood up holding a pair of tweezers that clasped a small sliver of metal. "Found this shaving near one of the larger bloodstains. Spectrography on it is right off the scales. Some kind of latent energy signature. If I had to guess what a piece of Excalibur would read like, I’d guess something a lot like this."

"So you’re taking that as confirmation for your friend’s … theories," Hangfire suggested doubtfully.

"Never questioned his theory," Pierce answered curtly, opening a small panel atop one of his gauntlets and dropping the sliver of metal inside. "This just gives us a way to pinpoint the monster’s whereabouts. My systems can analyze the energy signature, sweep the area for a sizable match."

Hangfire began to say more, but Pierce held up a silencing hand, as his other hand reached up to his helmet as if steadying his balance. Hangfire turned to Enigma instead.

"At the risk of sounding cliché, perhaps we should combine our resources?" Enigma offered.

Hangfire looked around at Valence, Karnival and More, each of whom nodded. "All right," Hangfire agreed.

"Got a bead on something," Pierce said authoritatively, "let’s go." He headed down the alley at a quick trot.

Hangfire looked quizzically toward Enigma. "He always this friendly?"

"More or less," Enigma admitted.

---

The six heroes approached the entrance of Lafayette Cemetery, black wrought iron gates set into a high brick wall that ran around the perimeter of the graveyard. In the darkness of the night only a few mausoleums closest to them were visible, but the cemetery contained row upon row of the stone structures which contained New Orleans’ deceased.

"It’s in there," Pierce confirmed.

"All right, I’ll fly in and you guys follow me," Valence suggested.

"No," Pierce objected immediately. "As soon as you see him he’ll see you, if he doesn’t spot you first. We’ll all go in on the ground. Follow me."

Valence bristled but said nothing, falling in line with the rest as Pierce entered the cemetery. Pierce’s helmet turned slowly from left to right as he progressed, constantly sweeping the area to home in on the energies scanned from the razor fragment. He led the team through the maze of mausoleums for some time, then stopped suddenly beside one and dropped to a crouch, waving the others down as well. Pierce pointed directly at the wall of the mausoleum, indicating that something was on the opposite side.

With a gravelly crunch the roof of the mausoleum was torn off and pushed across the side of the structure. It teetered above the crouching heroes for a moment before crashing to the earth below. The team scattered, half to each side, as the peaked stone roof burst into small pieces on impact. On the far side of the mausoleum, they were able to see the object of their pursuit.

The monster stood nearly twelve feet tall, with a massive muscular frame. Its head was broad and the lower half was distended like the muzzle of a dog. A single curved horn emerged from its brow. It wore what appeared to be an animal skin across its shoulders and a loincloth of the same material, with dangling bones attached to both articles. Its legs bent like the legs of a goat, and its feet disappeared at the ankles into shapes resembling human heads. Clenched in one of the monster’s hands was the straight razor, its blade glinting coldly in the light of the full moon.

Karnival reacted first. At the speed of thought he willed forth an illusion of a twelve foot tall angel, in gleaming white toga and wielding a flaming sword, which the angel brought down across the monster’s chest. The monster reeled backwards, then lashed out with its own weapon, which passed harmlessly through the illusion.

"Valence, see if you can grab that razor," Pierce commanded as he detached a small rod from its housing on his forearm.

Valence grimaced with the effort. "Either that thing’s not magnetic, or its energy’s giving me some interference," he confessed.

"Figures. Well, your buddy’s illusion won’t fool it much longer." With that Pierce vaulted into the air, flying through Karnival’s illusion and reaching up to the monster’s neck. Pierce passed by the monster’s left side while holding the rod to the right of the beast’s neck. The rod expanded into a bo staff, and Pierce used it to swing himself around onto the monster’s back. In a moment Pierce was on his knees straddling the monster’s shoulders, with the staff braced under its muzzle.

As the monster slashed and clawed at Pierce, the others made good their own attacks. Enigma created a red vortex that pulled the rubble from the smashed roof into one disc and fired it into the creature’s gut from another. Valence magnetically pulled loose a small wrought iron fence surrounding a nearby mausoleum and fashioned it into leg irons holding the monster in place. Hangfire ejected a cartridge of mercy bullets from his weapon and replaced it with a clip of live ammunition, then opened fire on the monster, aiming low to avoid hitting Pierce. The monster took everything with little reaction, remaining focused on Pierce, still perched on its shoulders.

More charged forward, yelling wildly. He reached up to grab the monster’s upper arm and began to pull down the hand holding the razor. The monster momentarily ignored Pierce as it brought its remaining free arm around to bludgeon More’s head. More grunted at the blow but continued to strain his own powerful muscles against the monster’s, pulling the arm low enough to get one hand around the wrist. The monster resisted, with effort visible on its demonic features, then lashed out again with its free hand. It struck the center of More’s chest and sent him flying back.

Pierce used the momentary distraction to reposition himself on the monster’s back. He brought his feet to the monster’s shoulders, pushed himself off in a flying somersault to a neighboring mausoleum, then sprang forward again to force his shoulder into the back of the monster’s head. The momentum pushed the beast forward, and with its legs still entangled in the iron fence Valence had wrapped around them, the monster fell onto its face. The fingers clutching the razor never relaxed in the slightest.

Pierce executed a forward roll and came up next to Enigma. "Think I saw something while it was arm wrestling with More," Pierce asserted. "Do me a favor – give the moon some cloud cover."

Enigma nodded and fell back, looking up at the night sky. A few clouds were visible in the corners of the starry expanse, with the bright full moon in the center of it all. Enigma concentrated and formed a red disc near one of the clouds. A second disc appeared beside the moon as the first pulled the cloud in. Soon the cloud was billowing out of the second disc and over the face of the moon. Enigma moved the first disc and continued rearranging clouds.

The cemetery became more shadowy as the moonlight dimmed under cover of clouds. The monster pulled one leg free of the twisted iron wrapped around it, and began to rise. Hangfire continued to shoot at the creature, with little noticeable effect. Valence magnetically grabbed a mausoleum door by its hinges and handle and directed it through the air. It smashed to bits against the monster’s back, almost knocking the beast down a second time. Karnival manufactured illusions of stone gargoyles come to life attacking the monster, while Pierce tapped a few buttons on his gauntlet and fired bursts of electrical energy at the monster.

The monster was no longer shrugging off the attacks. It let loose an unearthly howl and reached for the roof of a mausoleum which was topped by a stone statue of the virgin Mary. Snapping the statue off the roof, the monster hurled it blindly at the heroes, nearly striking Hangfire and Karnival, who quickly rolled out of its path.

"I think it’s working, Enigma!" Pierce called to his ally. "Keep it up!"

"I’m not sure I can!" Enigma yelled back. "It’s a clear night, not many clouds, I’ve got just about all of them between the moon and us!"

"Hangfire, Karnival, Valence – don’t let up!" Pierce directed as he fell back beside Enigma. To Enigma, he said, "Give me a little warp, down here, right?" Pierce reached into a small compartment on his belt and brought out three capsules as Enigma opened a fist-sized red disc in the air between them.

"Pump this stuff up there," Pierce said, "it should work even better than clouds." Pierce snapped open one capsule and held it close to the warp as thick, black smoke poured out. In the atmosphere above, the relocated smokescreen spread across the sky and further obscured the moon.

The monster began to diminish in size, now eleven feet tall, then only nine. Gargoyles continued to swipe at its legs as bullets tore into its sides and metal hinges sliced at its arms. More, recovering from the blow that had put him on the ground, rose to his feet and crossed the ground between himself and the monster. More threw his arms around the monster’s chest in a bearhug and lifted the beast off the ground. The monster’s howling intensified as it struggled in More’s grip.

"Focus on the hand holding the razor!" Pierce ordered as he broke the last of his smokescreen capsules into Enigma’s warp.

Karnival created a new illusion of a shining, golden gargoyle attacking the monster’s left side to distract it as Valence stabbed his flying metal weapons at the monster’s right hand. Hangfire squeezed off a few rounds at the monster’s right hand as well, and under their combined onslaught the beast finally dropped the razor to the ground.

Instantly the figure in More’s arms shrank to the size of a normal human, its demonic features melting into the darkness, and stopped moving. Before the transformation was complete, Pierce had snared the razor in a wire mesh net that was suspended from one armored gauntlet. Pierce approached More as he laid the unconscious man on the ground.

"Any idea who it is?" Pierce asked. Except for lying naked on the grounds of a cemetery in the middle of the night, the man appeared remarkably normal. No one knew who he was.

"We can radio this guy’s location in to the police. The real question is, what to do with the razor," Pierce stated.

"I believe it’s too dangerous to be left sitting around anywhere," Enigma answered. "Although I doubt very much we could destroy it outright."

"What if we just bury it?" Hangfire asked.

"A possibility," Enigma admitted. "But where, and in what?"

"I think I have an idea," Karnival said slowly.

---

The heroes stood on a scrubby patch of solid ground deep in the Louisiana swamp. Before them, half-submerged in the brackish water and tilted at an ungainly angle, was an old riverboat, its giant paddle wheel draped in moss.

"This belongs to you?" Pierce asked Karnival.

"And you admit it?" Valence added.

Karnival nodded. "Belonged to a crazy old great-uncle of mine, actually. The boat and about fifty acres of land surrounding it. It’s about the most solitary place I know, so I don’t think anyone will be out here stumbling onto it any time soon."

More surveyed the area, his eyes resting on the boat. "I could probably set something up on the boat to mix some concrete, the build a little mini-bunker we could put the razor in and sink to the bottom of the swamp. That oughtta keep it safe," he suggested.

"Funny you should mention construction equipment, More," Karnival continued. "I wasn’t sure how to broach this, but since we’re here … I’ve been thinking about reinforcing the insides of the riverboat, so that we might be able to use it as, you know, a kind of base of operations."

Valence looked back and forth between the boat and Karnival skeptically. "Not exactly the Justice League satellite, is it?"

"Not a bad idea, actually," Pierce commented. "Unlikely location means we’re going to be able to keep it a secret. I have some friends at S.T.A.R. labs who owe me a couple of favors, so I might be able to bring some technology to the venture – surveillance, computers …"

"So now you’re a part of this venture beyond disposing of the razor?" Hangfire asked.

Enigma added, "I was just thinking I might be able to help More with some aspects of construction – warping away mud and debris from areas he’s trying to clear, and so on. If you’ll have us, I think it benefits us all."

"I agree," Karnival said.

"Fine by me," More assented.

Valence and Hangfire looked at each other, waiting to see if either one would protest. Finally Valence said, "The more the merrier. Just let me know where to pick up my key to the boat."

"Welcome to Bad Blood, gentlemen," Hangfire said. "I just hope this doesn’t make things too easy for us with so many hands on board."

"I seriously doubt that," Pierce replied seriously.

 MESSAGES WRITTEN IN BLOOD ...

Thank you for coming back for the second installment of Bad Blood!  Your thoughts, reactions and assorted correspondences are still welcome at badblood51@hotmail.com.  This month I am proud to present the first "worshipful haiku" the title has received:

Bad Blood team forming
Can't wait for next story time
Dale's writing greatest

Hope the story this time didn't disappoint.  Thanks for writing me, Mom.

NEXT ISSUE: What could possibly go wrong as Bad Blood settles into the Riverboat HQ?   How about a magical city-wide plague brought on by a cutthroat team of super-powered criminals?  Everything that can go wrong, does!  Be here next month for the debut of "LocoForce!"