"Ride, Bat Hombres, ride!"
The man in the dark mask with the scarlet sash across his chest laughed, spurring his horse on faster. He leaped aboard the moving train, and landed with his bullwhip drawn and at the ready. A security guard aboard the passengers' car drew forth his pistol, but the bullwhip lashed out, disarming him. The guard gasped in pain.
The Gaucho swaggered through the car, his eyes picking out the better dressed among the cowering citizens. There was a sudden jolt as the train braked to a stop, and he laughed. "My men the Bat Hombres have now occupied your train," he said, eyes dancing. "We intend no violence, and we will only take from those who have something to give." He approached a man in an expensive suit, and pointed the handle of the bullwhip at him. "Very nice looking fob, Sir, and I have been needing a new watch. If you please." He opened his hand expectantly.
It was only moments later that the rest of the brigands boarded. None were as courtly as the Gaucho, but all followed his rules.
Later that night, as they rode back to their camp near the Andean village that they used as their base, the Gaucho slipped off his mask to reveal the features of Santiago Vargas. He grinned at Luis Peraldo, his second in command. "That was a good haul," he said. He pulled from his pocket the gold circle hanging from its chain. "And I am rather fond of my new watch."
Peraldo's expression was sober. "I wish I had news to cheer you up. There's been a report from our scouts."
Vargas frowned. "What is it? Has our President sent more of his troops to bring us in? No, that is not it, or you would come to be welcoming the challenge."
"Our village of La Niña Montañésa … I fear it has been captured. Those are not our men, and not the President's."
Without another word, Vargas donned his mask once more and took his horse into a gallop. When he was within sight of the village, he dismounted and walked the rest of the way on foot, silently keeping to the shadows as he crept to the shrine at the centre of the village. He recognised easily the man who stood on the steps of the shrine: Sebastian Ballesteros, who was known as The Cheetah, leader of a local crime cartel. He also saw the man's lieutenants El Papagayo and Tristessa Delicias … the woman known as Scorpiana … by his side, and ground his teeth. He had engaged in a rivalry with Scorpiana once early on in his career and allowed her to escape; he now regretted his decision, if she had chosen to ally herself with someone like Ballesteros.
He watched as the Cheetah's men looted the shrine, but could not conceal his surprise as they brought with them a slender young woman, who came with them unresistingly but unhurriedly. He recognised Geraine, the so-called 'Mountain Girl' around which the village had been built. She had miraculously survived after she fell from a cliff and was purportedly blessed with healing powers. The town had grown wealthy from donations by grateful worshippers, and in doing so had evidently become too rich a prize for The Cheetah to resist.
Silently, he rode back to his camp. "We're going to need to relocate our camp for a while," he grunted to Peraldo. Then without another word, he rode ahead, frowning.
When he was out of view of his men, he dismounted. In frustration, he slammed his fist into a tree. He didn't at first hear the rush of wind behind him, but he turned swiftly to see a man descending from the sky. The man was blond, his features concealed behind a domino mask, and he wore a blue cape and a red bodysuit the front of which was emblazoned with a blue 'S' on his chest.
"Supervolador," Vargas said, recognising the uniform which had become famous since the man had first appeared several years ago in 1938. "I suppose you've come to arrest me."
The man folded his arms over his chest, silent for long seconds. "I could," he said, "and would probably be justified in doing so. But I have other plans for you."
Vargas reached to his side for his bullwhip. "Plans?" he said, cautiously.
Supervolador nodded slowly. "I've watched you for some time. I think you are becoming unsettled with the life you are living."
Vargas laughed. "What would you know about it, super flying man?"
"I have not been flying so very long," Supervolador said. He unbuckled his belt. "My powers stem from this belt, given to me by extra-terrestrial guardians who protect the order of the universe. Without it, I am as human and as mortal as you are."
Vargas assessed the other man carefully. "So what, you are proposing to give it to me, now?"
"No, it has a safety device; if you attempted to use it you would be killed in the resulting explosion. But you don't need it to rescue the Mountain Girl."
"Rescue her? I am a gaucho, not a hero. I think you have mistaken me for someone else. You should do it yourself."
"No, I have not mistaken anything. And you don't need me to rescue her. You have the skills to do it on your own."
"And why should I?"
Supervolador stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly. "You know what you are doing is wrong, and you attempt to console yourself by putting on a chivalrous face, and maybe giving some pittance to the poor. But you also know you are better than this. Your natural impulse is to rescue the Mountain Girl, isn't it? You are unsettled because you have turned your face from God."
Vargas felt ice and fire travel up his spine at the other man's words. "And you say I can do this on my own?"
Supervolador nodded. "I know you have been working on some secret weapons in your own time, something to give you an edge in case you ever encountered someone like me, haven't you? They wouldn't work, you know. But they'd be more than sufficient against men like The Cheetah and his ilk."
Under cover of night, the Gaucho crept through The Cheetah's camp. It did not take long to discover where the Mountain Girl was being held, and he slid into the back of the tent. "Geraine?" he whispered.
The girl was kneeling in the centre with her eyes closed, hands pressed together. At his words, she turned to look at him, and smiled serenely. "The Gaucho. I knew you would come for me."
"Yes, well," he said. "It will come to nothing if you're not quiet." Gently, he took one of her hands in his, and guided her out where he had entered the tent. Peraldo was waiting there, and he took the girl away. The Gaucho prepared to follow, when he heard an inhuman screech and felt razor-sharp claws on his shoulder. He swung his arm in defence and El Papagayo's parrot flew back to his master. "Well done, Toto," the man said.
The Gaucho released his bolo at the pair, which as it wrapped around them released a cloud of smoke, which further obscured his exit from the camp. He did not get far before he saw the forest ahead of him gleaming with silvery, robotic scorpions. He knew how deadly their stings could be, and he cursed loudly. "All right, Tristessa," he said and backed away slowly, allowing them to guide him to the camp.
The Cheetah stood there in the centre, his lieutenants at his side. "I didn't think you'd have your courage to show your face here," he said. "I suppose you wanted that little peach for yourself. I suppose you never plucked her. It will happen, one way or the other, you know."
The Gaucho drew forth his bullwhip. "You never should have ventured into Bat Hombres territory, little cat. Now all that's left for you to do is be skinned."
The Cheetah beckoned, and Scorpiana ventured forward. "You should have joined forces with me when you could have, Gaucho," she said in a voice which approached a purr. "I'm afraid I won't show you the same mercy."
Scorpiana's silver armor boosted her strength, reflexes and agility, and the helmet that she wore which resembled a scorpion's tail was as much weaponry as ornamentation. She leaped towards the intruder, and he slid underneath her, feet rising up to catch her belly and send her into an uncontrolled fall. She landed easily, and her helmet began to lash out at him, teasing with deadly possibilities. He reached to his side and drew forth his lariat, and sent the rope whirling toward her. She stepped aside, but he managed to loop it around her arm. Electricity coursed through it, traveling through the armor she wore, paralyzing her.
The Cheetah shook his head. "I ought to have expected you would make short work of them," he said. "But you and I … we are leaders. So it is only fitting that we lead in battle as well. He slipped out of his shirt, and to the Gaucho's horror, the man's skin began to shift and change, spotted fur rippling across the surface of his flesh as his face began to alter as well, resembling nothing other than the great cat from which he took his name. With more than human speed, the Cheetah ran towards him, claws flashing in the torchlight.
The Gaucho struggled against his opponent's superhuman strength and speed, never have seen its like before. He felt the Cheetah's claws draw first blood, and had he breath to spare he would have cursed Supervolador for abandoning him to this fate.
The Cheetah began to toy with him, claws lashing out randomly to exhaust his opponent. But the Gaucho had not become the leader of the Bat Hombres without facing his own challenges. His eyes tracked the Cheetah's every movement, looking for repetitions, for stylistic quirks which would allow him to anticipate the creature's next move.
With the last of his reserves, he looped his bullwhip around the Cheetah's wrists, pulling the leather strap tightly. The Cheetah roared, jaw readying to clamp down on the Gaucho's throat, when the Gaucho slammed the handle of the bullwhip down the Cheetah's throat. Claws raked his skin but he pushed on, until slowly his foe began to asphyxiate, and his thrashing began to lessen.
The Gaucho stood over his unconscious foe, weak and covered in blood. The Cheetah's men moved around him warily, and the Gaucho raised his bullwhip and it cracked through the air … once, twice, and then a third time longer and louder. The Bat Hombres rode in from the forest in force, surrounding the others with angry cries, until they were forced to surrender.
The next day, the village of La Niña Montañésa resounded with celebration, the Bat Hombres at the centre of it. Santiago Vargas kept his distance, and when he had the strength, wandered back to the area in the woods where he had first encountered Supervolador. He dismounted from his horse, his body aching from a hundred wounds, and rested by a tree to wait.
It was not long before he saw the red and blue figure descend from the skies once again. He looked up. "It looks like you were right."
Supervolador smiled. "I am an excellent judge of character, my friend."
"Perhaps," Vargas replied. "What now?"
"There is a storm brewing across the seas," Supervolador said. "The Allies have need of men such as you. Your skills would make you an excellent spy against the evils of Nazism … evils which make Ballesteros look like a child by comparison."
Vargas listened, and considered. "And then my penance would be done?"
Supervolador nodded, and from a hidden pocket inside his cape, removed a small crucifix which he set on the side of a tree. "Come, kneel, and pray with me." As Vargas approached, Supervolador knelt down, and beckoned the other man to join him. "O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven, and the pains of hell; but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life."
The Gaucho felt the light enter him, and he closed his eyes and prepared himself for his future.
NOTES:
Supervolador's real name is Jet Carson. On rare occasions or when he is incapacitated, one of his two identical brothers may don the belt to go into action as Titan or Captain Tornado.
The core elements of the plot come from the Douglas Fairbanks film, THE GAUCHO.