Rights to Harry Potter are held by JK Rowling. Those to Wonder Woman, Batman, Superman, et al to DC Comics/Warner Bros. Rights to Once Upon a Time is held by Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz. Joe 90 is owned by the estates of the late Gerry Anderson and Sylvia Anderson, ITC, etc. Rights to other franchises used are owned by: Marvel Comics; NOW Comics/Moonstone Books; the BBC; Susan Cooper; Jim Butcher; Charles Addams; Terrance Dicks; the estates of Ian Fleming, Peter O'Donnell, C.S. Lewis, Malcolm Saville, Enid Blyton, and Anthony Buckeridge; amongst others. This is a non-profit attempt to play with favourite franchises.
New York, Late March 2017
The Cobalt Club was a high-end Gentleman's Club and had been for nearly a century. It was a place where membership was strictly by invitation only. Members included such celebrated individuals as Bruce Wayne, Oliver Queen, Tony Stark, Matt Murdock, the up-and-coming biochemist Peter Parker and media magnate Britt Reid junior and his concert pianist nephew Paul Reid. Why, legend had it that Clark Savage junior and Richard Henry Benson had both been members back in the day. Both men still were members, in remarkable condition for men in their twelfth decades. Of course, they kept to the ultra-private areas alongside Jethro Dumont, Kent Allard, Richard Wentworth and others.
Whilst the Cobalt Club had a number of such areas where the great and the good could meet in private (after all, the adventurers, explorers, psychic researchers, amateur and professional detectives and even the cape and cowl brigade needed a place to share a drink and discuss their exploits), the rest of the club was exactly what it appeared to be. That meant that occasionally members or guests would have too much to drink, tempers would get raised, words would get heated and unpleasantness would result. Normally, the bouncers would be able to cope, but there was also the possibility of some of the senior council getting involved in matters. Discretely, of course. The Shadow was an urban legend, as were the Spider and the Green Lama. They obviously did not act as Club Enforcers, because they did not exist.
On this occasion, a burly gentleman was signed in as a guest by one of the members. Somehow, this guest got into an argument with another member. Words were exchanged, the guest threw a few punches and a small brawl erupted. Nothing too serious, it was thought, and the matter was ended with the guest being thrown out. Something the guest gave his opponent, however, had apparently terrified the latter. Then there was the distressing fact that the poor member was shot dead by a man described as being identical to the assailant on leaving the premises…
Finding an inexplicable scrap of paper with a 'hangman' motif on it in the man's left-hand pocket, one of the homicide detectives photocopied it. He then discretely posted the copy and a brief report into the letter box of an apparently abandoned office in a nondescript commercial building. The envelope containing them was then conveyed through an ingenious network of conveyors to the in-tray of Burbank, the communication expert of the Shadow's team of agents.
"Thanks for bringing this to our attention, Kent," rumbled the deep-voice of the bronzed giant in one of the Cobalt Club's more private sections.
"Yes, thanks Kent," echoed the man with the white face and hair, the usual solemn expression on his face.
"No problem, Doc, Richard," the tall dark-haired man with the hawk-like nose responded. "I thought that you would both wish to know about this evidence."
Kent Allard was a former aviator and criminal, who had been taught various secrets by a secret Tibetan monastery. Reformed, he had returned to New York after studying with other masters in various fields that would assist him in his fight against crime. Having borrowed the identity of a lookalike wealthy playboy named Lamont Cranston (the real Cranston persuaded to spend most of his time abroad), he fought crime as the Shadow. He had gathered a large network of agents in many parts of society and used secrets learned from his Tibetan mentors to slow down his ageing to a virtual standstill. He taught these techniques to his closest agents.
Clark Savage junior, the bronzed giant of a man, was one of the finest surgeons around. Brought up by his father to be the scourge of criminals everywhere. He had studied with the Great Detective (as had Kent Allard), Craig Kennedy, Arsene Lupin and many more. After gathering together five top aides he had met escaping from a prison camp in the latter days of World War One, all now near the top of their fields, he set about his crusade after his father's murder. 'Doc' Savage, the Man of Bronze, was a top inventor, criminologist and fighter and could move with a stealth and grace that belied his tall, very muscular form. A cousin, Lord Greystoke, had sent him samples of an elixir vitae he had been given by an African shaman for services rendered. Doc was able to synthesise this and create tablets for his agents and family, plus provide his aristocratic cousin with his own supply of the tablets.
Richard Henry Benson had lost his wife and daughter in a plane crash in the 1920s. The shock had turned his hair and skin so white they were almost colourless. In addition, his face set into a constant solemn expression. Unless of course he used his hands to mould his features as if his face was made of clay. By using dyes and coloured contact lenses he could make himself look like any average-sized man. The one they called the Avenger now fought his own crusade against crime, alongside Justice Inc., his own team of associates. A supply of Sherlock Holmes' 'Royal Jelly' honey ensured Justice Inc. were also remarkably fit, healthy and youthful-looking for super-centenarians.
These were three formidable opponents, then. Evil-doers, beware them teaming up!
"According to my source," Allard continued, "this 'hangman' motif has been cropping up all over the docks, in an area frequented by a new gang of heroin smugglers. They suspect a connection. Police in Detroit and Gotham City have also, apparently, seen traces of both motif and smugglers. Should we contact the Hornets and Bats?"
Doc nodded. He rang a number. "Hello. Is this the headquarters of the Daily Sentinel Media Group, Detroit? … Good. Can I speak to Mr Reid please? …. Yes, I'll hold, thank you… Hi, Britt! … Yes, fine, thanks. And you and Casey? … Is Paul in town? … Good! He might be required for a sting operation!"
In Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne had just finished speaking to Doc Savage. He entered the drawing room where Selina, Dick, Barbara and Tim were all present, alongside Alfred and young Mary Grayson. Now two-and-three-quarters, she was a tall, athletic redhead, just like her mother. Jason and Tim were already calling her "Junior Batgirl" in private.
"I've just had a tip-off from Doc about those drug smugglers. To the Batcave, everyone!"
"I'll be a good girl for Uncle Alfred, Mom, Dad," Mary responded automatically.
"I'm sure you will, sweetie," Barbara said, hugging and kissing her daughter, then smiling as Dick took his turn. The husband and wife team then turned to join the others. They all ran into Bruce's study, where Tim promptly adjusted the hands of the antique grandfather clock to say 10:47 and pushed on the face to open the secret door behind it. They then went down the revealed winding staircase to the Batcave, the door closing behind them and the clock resetting itself to the right time.
After entering their respective costume vaults and changing, Batman, Catwoman, Nightwing, Batgirl and Red Robin stood in front of the Batcomputer. "According to Doc, the smugglers seem to be linked to the so-called 'hangmen' – they have murdered someone outside the Cobalt Club.
"Apparently, Doc, Kent and Richard Benson are taking an interest."
"Well," Nightwing commented, "I hope for their sakes, Doc or the Avenger catch them. The Shadow's policy on criminals tends to be more extreme!"
"Nightwing, Batgirl," Batman ordered, "take the Batcopter to patrol the docks from the air. Red Robin, take the Batboat to patrol the waters. I'll take the Batmobile."
"And I?" purred his fiancée.
"You take a Catcycle to do some checking of the company safe, while I cause a distraction."
"Making the best of my skillset?! I approve." She went over and kissed him thoroughly. "Stay safe, my love!"
At that, Batman climbed into the Batmobile and Selina mounted a cat-themed motorcycle. They drove off towards a section of cave wall. External video cameras showing the road outside clear, part of the 'cliff face' that concealed the Batcave hinged down to form a drawbridge onto the road on the other side of the gorge. The Batmobile and Catcycle went over this drawbridge onto the road, heading into Gotham City at high speed. Batman used a switch on the dashboard to remotely raise the drawbridge back into place. Meanwhile, Nightwing and Batgirl took the monorail to the part of the cave which served as the Batplane and Batcopter hanger and Red Robin the elevator to the underground river where the Batboat was moored.
"Paul, Kono-san," said Britt Reid, "can you look into this gang of smugglers for Doc Savage. We believe they operate from an old fish-processing factory on the Detroit River. They are trying to use it to get their wares to the Western Great Lakes and up into Canada."
They were in Britt's study. In addition to Britt and Paul Reid, there was Kono Kato, Paul's manservant. Diana Reid, the daughter of Britt's late uncle, Britt Reid senior, was also present, as the current District Attorney. Like Frank Scanlon before her, she was always keen to use the Green Hornet to go after the villains the police couldn't touch. Her husband, Britt's manservant and Kono's uncle Hayashi Kato was another of the sextet present, as was Britt's wife Lenore Reid. The latter still answered to 'Casey' after her maiden name of 'Case', even though she had been married to Britt for over forty years.
"Can you offer any advice, Aunt Diana?" Kono Kato asked.
"The smugglers and their 'hangmen' gangster friends are dangerous, Kono-san. You need to be careful in dealing with them.
"I do not need to remind you of the fact the Hornet and his wingman are Detroit's…?"
"Most wanted? No!" Paul interrupted. "Right, Kono, time to get changed into our working clothes to discuss a share in a company.
"Let's roll, Kato!"
"Right, boss!"
Richard Henry Benson used his hands to literally shape his face into the image of the mysterious guest to the Cobalt Club. Per the visitors' book, he was a Herbert Jackson from the banks of the Erie Canal.
"They must be trying to get the drugs to Detroit and Canada, maybe ultimately to the West Coast," Allard suggested.
"Probably, Kent," Benson agreed. He finished moulding his face into shape. "There! All I need are a couple of light blue contact lenses, some skin lotion and some dark brunette hair dye."
"It still unnerves me seeing you do that," Allard responded, "and I've seen a lot!"
From a corner of the room came the exotic trilling noise Doc Savage produced when concentrating or excited. "I'm going to Jackson's address. Richard, go to the docks. Hopefully, one of his associates will show you in."
"Don't worry Richard. You will be being shadowed…"
Commissioner James Gordon was not entirely surprised to see the familiar shadow over his desk. "I don't suppose you will ever use the door?" he asked rhetorically.
"We've had a tip-off about the 'hangmen' and their drug smugglers, Jim. Keep your men on standby. There should be some trash to collect…"
"Thanks, Batman. I'll keep an eye on the…" He turned around. Batman was gone. "Typical!"
At the Detroit fish-processing factory, a series of explosions opened a large hole in the wall. Suddenly through the hole came a harsh electronic sound as if an angry swarm of wasps was approaching and two bright green beams shone out of the night.
"It's the Hornet!" someone shouted as the Black Beauty came through the hole into the factory. The driver's side doors opened and two figures emerged. The tall stocky form of the Green Hornet emerged from the front and the lithe form of his driver and wingman emerged from the front.
"Someone's being doing a dirty deal in this city," the Hornet noted in the deep commanding tones that replaced Paul Reid's pleasant light baritone, "without paying me my cut. We start at 50 percent."
"That's outrageous!" said the well-dressed man who appeared to be in charge.
"Sixty-forty to me!"
"Now look here, Hornet…"
"Seventy-thirty to me! I do so enjoy these negotiations."
A handful of thugs tried to jump the interlopers. The wingman, however, was his usual efficient self, leaping high into the air and catching two goons under the chins with a booted foot apiece. Punching, leaping, kicking and chopping, he seemed to be in at least ten places at once. Meanwhile, the Hornet was using his gas gun and fists to full effect.
Somebody produced a firearm, another a stick which the duo quickly recognised as a wand. This was confirmed when the Hornet had to dodge a couple of stunners, as his partner had to dodge bullets. The latter, however, simply plucked two anaesthetic-tipped darts from his sleeve and threw one into the arm of his opponent, before turning to hurl the second into the cheek of the Hornet's foe.
Meanwhile, the man in charge, however, had seen that this chaos was inevitable from the second his men had tried to attack the Hornet and his aide. He ran into his office and locked the door behind him. There was no other way in or out, other than a climb out of the window, but he was secure.
The Green Hornet, however, had seen where he went. A blast of sonic energy from the Hornet Sting melted the lock and a high-kick from his wingman brought down the door. Once their last opponent fell to the gas gun, the pair looked around the office. The Hornet Sting proved its worth yet again on the office safe.
"Listen to this, boss! There seems to be some sort of distribution network leading from Latin America to Bermuda and then to the States. Their main centre seems to be in Bermuda."
"Hmm, we'll call the DA's office for an anonymous tip. Also, we had better contact MACUSA." He returned to the Black Beauty and used the Carphone to dial an old friend. "Wednesday? … Yes, fine thanks … We are looking into drug smugglers, at least one of whom is a wizard … Yes, your expertise would be most welcome…"
Meanwhile, Kono Kato had just finished binding the drug smugglers. "All done, boss!" he noted.
"Thanks," the Hornet responded, finding and picking up a couple of briefcases full of cash. "We'll take these." He then dropped a yellow circle of card, with a green hornet painted on it, similar to the one on his domino mask.
Suddenly, a tall, pale-skinned, dark-haired woman in a Gothic-style dress appeared out of nowhere. "Hello, boys," she purred. "You said there was at least one wizard?"
"Two," Kono told her. "I found a wand on this one and that one actually used his to try and stun us!"
Wednesday nodded. She shackled the wrists and ankles the two wizards. "Portus! Portus!" With a tap of her wand to each set of handcuffs, she portkeyed them away. "There! Straight to holding cells at the MACUSA Auror department. Good to see you both again."
"You too!" the mock-gangsters chorused as she apparated away.
The Green Hornet and his associate returned to the Black Beauty.
"The local drug-addiction clinic is to get a large anonymous donation tomorrow," the Hornet noted. "Now to call Aunt Diana and arrange for the police to take the bad guys into custody.
"Home, Kono-san."
"Right, Paul!"
Batman arrived in the Batmobile at another disused fish processing factory, this time at the Gotham Docks. He nodded at Catwoman, who had parked the Catcycle in a nearby back alley. She was stood on a wall, ready to climb into the factory once he had caused a distraction.
The Dark Knight promptly reached into his utility belt and pulled out a lock pick. Seconds later, he was inside. He promptly hurled a flashbang grenade into the midst of the smugglers. By the time they had recovered from their surprise, five of their number had fallen to the fists and feet of their foe.
Hearing the chaos, Catwoman slipped in through an upstairs window. Finding what appeared to be the main office and, once she had used her whip to knock out the occupant, she located a safe. Using a safe-cracking device of her fiancé's devising, she opened the safe and confiscated the contents.
As she slipped out, she saw one smuggler fall to a batarang and a gangster fall to a flying tackle from Batman. Also, a form on a rope ladder smashed through a skylight. Batgirl lowered her husband down into the factory from the Batcopter. Nightwing dropped from the ladder, landed a foot apiece on a couple of gangsters and fell into a forward roll that knocked out two more. Rising, he pulled a tear gas cartridge from his utility belt and flung it into the mob. Meanwhile, his adoptive father was head-butting one foe whilst hurling a set of bolas into the path of another, bringing him down to the ground. Catwoman smiled as she used her whip to launch herself out of a window straight onto the Catcycle's saddle. The Bat-family's capacity for causing mayhem amongst criminals was undimmed. Replacing her whip in her utility belt, she started her vehicle and sped back off towards the Batcave.
Meanwhile, a couple of smugglers produced wands and started to cast curses at the Dynamic Duo. As they ducked behind machinery, Batman used the communicator in his cowl. "Batgirl," he growled quietly, "contact Zee and ask for assistance! There are wizards present."
A raven-haired woman in a white blouse, black fishnet stockings, shorts, tuxedo and bowtie Apparated in. "Roolf eht otni knis!" she cried. "Eci otni ria!" As she spoke, one wizard sank down into the floor up to his waist, the other found his legs encased in ice. Batarangs from Batman and Nightwing knocked their wands out of their hands. Zee quickly put handcuffs on them and portkeyed them to the holding cells at the Auror department.
Meanwhile, Batman and Nightwing started binding and frisking their other captives. None appeared to be carrying wands and Zee Apparated into the Batcopter, in case any escaping felons turned out to be wizards.
Smugglers and gangsters started to flee the chaos. Some tried to flee on foot, but found themselves in the beam of a searchlight from the Batcopter, with Batgirl firing large teargas canisters to disrupt their progress. Others tried to leave by boat, but a Bat-themed submersible surfaced and reconfigured into a trimaran. Seeing the Batboat appear quickly discouraged any thoughts of escape by water. A couple of the 'hangmen' tried to escape by car, but Batman produced a remote control from his utility belt and summoned the Batmobile. He and Nightwing boarded the car and gave chase. Since Batgirl had left an anonymous tip-off with the GCPD, the bad guys quickly found themselves hemmed in by a police roadblock on one side and the Batmobile on another. Surrender was inevitable!
Benson observed the actions and speech patterns of Jackson. "I can copy him sufficiently to fool his mother!" he assured Allard and Doc.
Doc nodded. He produced a small vial from a hidden pocket, then, with a remarkably quiet tread for such a giant, crept up behind Jackson as he walked back towards his apartment. The Man of Bronze grabbed his quarry around the waist, whilst using his free hand to shatter the vial under Jackson's nose, sending him to sleep in seconds. "He should be out of it for some time," he announced, binding the sleeping gangster. "I'll arrange for the police to know that they can pick up the Cobalt Club Killer."
"Thanks, Doc," Benson responded. He lightened his voice to sound more like Jackson. "Now, to seek out his friends!"
Allard pulled a black cloak tighter around his body and raised a red scarf to cover his lower face. Once he had lowered the broad brimmed hat so that all you could see of his face was the hawk nose and the cold grey eyes, he seemed to, well, vanish. All you could see was a distinctive shadow on the wall behind him, then nothing at all.
Doc, meanwhile, vanished into a parallel back alley. He used fire escapes, balconies, flat roofs and other back alleys to move quickly and quietly to the disused fish packing factory on the New York docks where the 'hangmen' and their importers were believed to operate out of.
Benson as Jackson arrived there openly. He arrived at the same time as others entering the premises, copying the body language and imitating the voice of the one whose appearance he was following. Seeing clear evidence of narcotics smuggling, he pressed a concealed button on his watch.
Outside the building, a shadow seemed to swoop out of the darkness and knock a couple of smokers senseless before they could sound the alarm. The Shadow found his way to what appeared to be the main office, knocked out the opponent with a quick la savate move and used a safe-cracking device of Doc's invention to acquire the contents.
Meanwhile, a bronzed giant burst through a window into the factory, setting off every alarm in the place. He carried no firearm, trusting in his phenomenal strength and skills to deal with his foes. A twist of a smuggler's wrist broke the arm, a jab to the temple laid a second unconscious and a kick to the back of the right knee had a third writhing in agony on the floor. He wore bulletproof metal-alloy underwear of his own devising and a metal skullcap with a wig identical to his close-cropped hair, as bronzed as his skin. Benson wore similar underwear and a metal skullcap of his own.
One smuggler produced a wand and a gangster a machinegun. Benson reacted quickly, producing two items from their accustomed places strapped to his thighs. The first was a slim bluish tube that was a silenced .22 calibre pistol he had dubbed "Mike" and the second a hollow-hilted throwing dagger he called "Ike". Within seconds, the wizard was yelling in pain, his wand falling to the floor once Ike had impaled his wrist. The gunman meanwhile had collapsed unconscious, Benson having used his favourite trick of aiming Mike so that he creased the top of his foe's skull. Any victim would feel as if their skull had been smashed open and invariably be knocked out, but never killed. Like Doc, Benson preferred not to kill unless necessary.
By now, the gangsters and smugglers had turned to "Jackson". Benson wiped off the dye and face make-up, removed the coloured contacts and remoulded his features back into the immobile solemn granite-hard pale white face of the Avenger.
"Doc Savage and the Avenger!" one smuggler cried. "Could this day get any worse?" Mocking harsh laughter broke out from another part of the room. They all turned, but saw nothing but the shadow of a tall man wrapped in a cloak and wearing a slouch hat. "Sorry I asked!"
Allard did not share his friends' distaste for killing. Whilst not a borderline psychopath like the Spider, he felt the appropriate response to his prey to be twin .45s, used to kill, not to stun. Drawing the two pearl-handled firearms, he dealt death to the more heavily armed opponents, leaving Doc and Benson to deal with the simpler prey. Another two wizards fell, one creased with a bullet from Mike, the other ruthlessly gunned down by the Shadow.
Eventually, a powerful left hook from Doc laid the last opponent out cold. The three titans gathered together. "You don't have to be quite so lethal," Doc complained to the Shadow.
"If you wish to take the others down to your facility…" the Shadow countered, referring to "the Crime College" in upstate New York, where a team of neurosurgeons, psychiatrists, therapists and others were employed by Doc to turn criminals into law-abiding citizens.
"Gentlemen!" interjected the Avenger. "Let's contact MACUSA about the wizards, have the others taken to Doc's sanatorium and then regroup at the Club?"
A few hours later, Doc, Allard and Benson were gathered back at the Cobalt Club. The Bat-family were skyped in from Gotham City and the Hornets from Detroit.
"So all these operations had wizard support?" Britt Reid clarified. "MACUSA must be highly concerned that wizards are openly involved in no-maj narcotics smuggling."
"Also, the hub appears to be in Bermuda," Bruce Wayne agreed. "I'll contact Diana. Themyscira is in the Bermuda Triangle, after all.
"We must contact UNCLE, SHIELD, Nemesis and the W.I.N. too. They might wish to get their agents involved."
"Agreed," Doc finished. "The US divisions are effectively smashed. Time to cut off the head of the snake!"