Issue 1: "The Blood and Dragon Affair, Part One"

Harbin, Manchuko (Northeastern China)
The near present of March, 1935

Cyril “Speed” Saunders moved through the crowded streets, balmacaan coat open and flapping at the edges in the late Spring breeze. Speed didn't really notice the cold though, a thick wool sweatshirt providing extra warmth as he threaded his way through the masses of people. He nearly bounced with each step, excited to be nearing his goal. He'd say at long last, but in truth, he was too young to be thinking that. He had the cocky gait of a young, immortal man, unafraid despite being thousands of miles from anywhere he'd call home, in a city in the middle of a brewing war. But for Speed Saunders, that was just life, and all he chose to remark upon mentally was how stylish he was compared to the drab citizens of this 'Pearl on the Swan's Neck'. Bright yellow sweatshirt, checked trousers, comfortable beige jacket, all topped in a light-colored Trilby hat; Saunders wove through the simple and dull-colored multitudes around him as a cheery and excitable popinjay, secure in his abilities and destiny.

And that destiny brought him to this place, a rundown storefront huddled within the cluster of old and tired-looking buildings, tucked under a straw awning. Speed took a jaunty leap over the three steps down to the small doorway, and pressed through the entrance in a single fluid motion. He stopped short, letting his eyes adjust to the grimy dim interior, piles of books and shelves of scrolls and tablets surrounding him. He took a step, then a second and then froze again. For the first time, that big grin on his face faded from view as he heard a conversation already underway, somewhere ahead. He knew Mandarin Chinese, and he knew to expect Mandarin Chinese, but he never expected to hear the halting words spoken with a heavy German accent. He moved more cautiously now, peering around the end of one bookcase to see the proprietor in animated discussion with another man. A tall man, with his back toward Speed, standing at rigid attention as he spoke. He wore a pea green jacket that hid his actual shape from Saunders, but his bearing, and the short cropped brown hair indicated that he was military. And his accent was most definitely German. And worst of all, the two of them were discussing his book.

<”I assure you, good sir, that the book you are asking for is not available,”> the proprietor explained again, looking up at the nearly six-foot tall man. <”Please, unless there is something else you seek, I must ask you to leave.”>

<”I know you have the Ineffable Libram,”> the German answered as he leaned over the table and glared down at the bookseller. <”Don't lie to me.”>

<”No lying, merely...imprecise. The Libram is in my possession, but I should have said...it is not for sale. Not to you.”>

<”Right, that would be me who's buying that book,”> Speed Saunders said with a confident voice and cocky stride as he stepped up and put a hand on the German's shoulder. <”So just back off, Fritz. Find yourself a pulp or something.”>

The German turned smartly on his heel and faced off with Saunders, his own weathered, hawk-like features in sharp contrast to the blond-haired, fresh-faced young man. Ice blue eyes met sea-blue eyes, and Saunders gave a short, stifled gasp of surprise. He took a step back, immediately chiding himself for doing so, but continued to face off with the German man, and tried to understand how he could be here.

{“I know you,”} Speed slipped into German as his mind raced for the name. {“The World War flying ace...Hammer from hell...”} He snapped his fingers and then pointed, announcing, {“Hans von Hammer! You're Baron Hans von Hammer!”}

{“I am, and you speak my language well, American,”} von Hammer responded as he stood his ground, arms held at his side, hands curled defensively into fists. {“You seek this book too? Why?”}

{“None of your business, that's for sure, Nazi,”} Speed shot back, body tense and alert, not sure what to do at this point. He'd not been prepared to meet one of the most dangerous men of the Great War.

{“I am not a Nazi,”} was von Hammer's icy response. He turned back to the proprietor, who was watching the two foreigners with increased interest, an enigmatic smile on his face. <”You will not sell the book to me, are you planning to sell it to him?”> The German pointed at Saunders as the American stepped up to the table.

<”No. No I am not. It is not meant for sale to either of you, and there is no price you can offer, I assure you gentlemen. Both of you, leave now. Before it's too late.”>

“Too late?” Saunders echoed, a surprised look at the clear threat from the elderly Chinese gentleman.

Hans von Hammer was a noble-born and warrior-bred, and even before the bookseller had spoken his threat, he was sensing a closing in around him and the foolish boy at his side. He turned his head around, seeing the shapes moving at the windows, and against the curtain closing off the back of the store. “Too late, boy.”

Saunders looked at the enemy ace, surprised again, this time to hear the German speak English. Then he followed the warrior's gaze and caught sight of the incoming men. A half-dozen men entered the store, garbed in simple black garments, innocuous out on the streets of Harbin, but in here, in this light, with the argument over a book called the Ineffable Libram, they heralded a definite menace.

<”Too late,”> the aged bookseller announced to the new arrivals, signaling for the fate of the foreigners. One of the newly-arrived merely grinned wickedly in response, and the men prepared for battle.

Harbin, Manchuko
Two months prior

“If I never hear those two words again, I'll be a happy man!” Speed Saunders cried out as he leaped over a table, narrowly avoiding the wicked strike from the short sword that cracked the furniture in half.

Hans von Hammer calmly pivoted from a downstroke from another attacker, hands drawing out C96 Mausers. Without even pausing, he lifted the weapons and fired, then spun again and bent backward, sidestepping another thrust while avoiding a wicked slice, all the while his guns firing again and again into the small shop.

Saunders had grabbed up one part of the ruined table to bring down on his attacker, before laying a powerful right cross against the jaw of the next attacker behind the first. It was then that he watched, astounded as the German continued his ballet of gun play, and Speed swore he could hear music play in his head as he watched. That lasted no more than a moment when he spotted the bookseller trying to make off with his...alright, fine, our prize, Saunders mused, and launched a powerful tackle that brought the old man down hard and then snatched the Ineffable Libram into his own hands.

“Run, boy!” the Hammer from Hell called out as he rolled one gun in his left hand and used the thick body of the pistol to block a wicked machete chop, while the other pistol blazed into the approaching three warriors, parting them for Speed to reach the door. “I am following!”

Speed tucked the thick, tattered book in his arms and nodded in agreement. He hurtled the table the old man had been behind, and charged up a full head of steam, his lean but solid body shouldering through the dispersed trio, heavy boots crunching over one of the attackers particularly cruelly as he darted onto the streets of Harbin. The crowds outside had heard the struggle, and so most of the passersby had run to find cover, to escape the area, while others who sought such voyeuristic enjoyment, provided another barrier to Speed. He'd not gained his nickname by random, and as von Hammer backed out of the shop, the older man could barely make out the wake Saunders had left behind in the sea of people. He wiped at the bloody gash on his cheek and growled at himself, before taking off after his grudging ally.

After von Hammer had likewise vanished into the crowd, the uninjured of the attackers also stormed out of the storefront and sought the passage of their targets. No one in the crowd stepped up to offer guidance however; none willing to offer advice to the Japanese attackers. Instead, the small group broke up and also vanished into the crowds, seeking the fugitives.

Saunders met up with the German ace just a few blocks away, having backtracked to find the man. “Okay, what the hell was that?” Saunders spit out when the pair found each other.

“I caught a tattoo on one of the men I put down, and I think they are one of the Japanese secret societies,” Hans von Hammer answered as the pair hurriedly walked down a narrow alley, and out onto a nearby street, putting more distance between themselves and the bookshop. “I'm not conversant enough to know which one though.”

“I more meant you,” Saunders said with a grudging admiration. “You didn't pause, you didn't aim, you were...I thought you were a pilot. Combat ace, sure, but that's up in a plane. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“The Killer Skies know only the boundary of the Earth itself,” Hans answered with a haunted voice. “Today, they flew lower than on other days. In war, you become attuned to the flow of combat, and if you are wise, you let your instincts move with that flow. To hesitate, to fight against that flow, means death rather than life. And if there is one thing I've learned in the fires of war, it's that victory only comes in life. That's the whole secret to life.”

“It is?” Saunders remarked incredulously.

“Yes. Not dying. That's the whole secret to life.” The Hammer from Hell looked to the American and let the slightest hint of a grin form as they continued their escape into the night.

Crossing the Pacific Ocean
Two weeks prior to the present

“You're not looking very happy, von Hammer,” Speed Saunders said as he strolled along the deck of the cruise ship, sipping at a drink and watched his partner, who was failing to rest on one of the lounge chairs. “Something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Hans replied as he stood up and found a regular chair to settle into. He stared forlornly at the waves, resting his chin on one hand.

“What's wrong? Nice ship, good service, we'll be in the States soon, and from there, we can figure out what to do about having the book. Things are looking up, I'd say.” Saunders looked quite pleased as he kicked back in the chaise and sipped at the glass of scotch. “Are you still missing your plane?”

“It was very new. A prototype even. And it performed magnificently,” von Hammer lamented, his other hand curling up into a fist.

“Yeah, it did. But I doubt we were in any position to try flying that baby across the Pacific. We deserve a nice relaxing trip anyway.” He leaned back into his seat, sipping more scotch and smiled.

“So what do we do about the book?” Hans finally ventured to ask.

“What do you need it for anyway? I've heard rumors about you Nazis digging up all sorts of mystic trinkets. This one of them?”

“I am not a Nazi. I am German, and proud of my heritage. But do not mistake me for the Fûhrer and his lapdogs. I am a noble of my land, the reigning baron of my estate, and am no Nazi. Do not paint all loyal Germans with your one brush.”

Saunders looked over at the man, and then shrugged. “If you say. Of course, you didn't answer the actual question, I noticed.”

“No. I want the Libram for my own. I have personal needs for it.” Hans grew more quiet as he stared back at the young man. “Why do you want it? I thought you Americans were largely uninterested in the occult?”

“Some are, some aren't. I'm more interested in what that book has to say about a legend I've been following for about a decade now.”

“Ten years? You're still a boy,” Hans laughed and leaned back in his chair.

“I am not a boy, I'm nineteen! And yeah, so since I was nine. And I mean that. This old guy I knew, he told the most amazing stories, and he told me that he found this road, a long, long time ago. Further back than someone would think, and this road, it led him on all these adventures that he'd tell me. Decades of adventures.”

“You want this book because of an old man's ramblings?” Now it was von Hammer who was incredulous, but he leaned forward to listen to more.

“No, I want the book because a couple of years back, I found a reference to this “danger-fraught road” in another book. And then another reference after I checked up on the first book's sources. And it led me to the existence of the Libram, and the fact that it contains how to find that road. And I want to find it.”

“Interesting. You seek what I can't seem to avoid. Trouble and danger.” The German gave a deep sigh and looked around. Then he looked around again, and started to sit up straight. “Everywhere I go.”

“Yeah,” Saunders replied as he nodded. He too noticed it. Of the Asians to be found on this cruise, he noticed a pair of them pass by with markings similar to the ones Hans von Hammer described back at the shop. The two men watched, and breathed easier when the strangers walked on by, not seeming to even notice the adventurers. “Okay. Coincidence?”

Hans von Hammer smiled and stood up, giving a stretch of his limbs, warming them up in readiness. “Yes and no. I suspect, that if this road of yours exists, it has brought us to this signpost. So no, not a coincidence. On the other hand, I am certain those two are unaware of what we have, so in that regard, yes it is a coincidence.”

“Either way, I think you and I should figure out what these guys are up to. What do you think?”

“Agreed.” The pair followed the other two, being led into the ship, being led to the cabin of these two men, where they knocked on a cabin door twice. When they saw the door open, Hans and Speed nodded to each other and they charged.

The four Japanese men were surprised by the sudden attack, powerful punches from Speed sending two of the men reeling into the wall of the cabin, as von Hammer stormed in and rushed a third man, pressing him hard against a different wall.

As the last man moved to jump at Hans, the German pulled out his pistol in a fluid motion. <”Don't!> The fourth man stopped short and put his empty hands up.

<”Who are you? What are you doing here?”> Speed demanded to know, as he gripped one of the other men in a tight arm lock. When they got no answer, Speed twisted harder and added, <”You here for the book? Are you? Answer?”>

The man with the gun pointed in his face stared in shock at Speed's question, and blurted out, <”The book isn't our goal...”> before he was cut off with a hiss by the man von Hammer held firm.
<”You are all part of the same group then?”> Saunders tried to confirm, and the same scared man gave a nod. <”Who are you?”>

<”We are part of the Black Dragon Society, and you have made a terrible, terrible mistake in forcing yourselves into our business, gaijin,”> sneered the man being held by Saunders. <”Our numbers are too numerous, our plans too far-reaching for fools such as you. If you have the book, then you only bring increased honor to our efforts!”>

The last man turned and bolted from the room, but von Hammer elected not to shoot him, instead turning his attention to the man held by his partner. “We should bind them, and then you can tell me what they have said. And then we can figure out our next step.”

“You didn't get that?” Speed said with a mischievous smile, as he let his prisoner go and started to look for something to bind the three remaining men up.

“Not Japanese. Seems you have a use after all, Saunders,” Hans von Hammer replied, his face still a stoic mask, though he did let a small curl of his lips hint at his jest.