Issue 7: "The Man in Stitches Affair, Part Two"

San Francisco
19^th July 1935

“I tell you, Rocco, I heard a banging,” one of the three men insisted as he led the way up from below and into the commercial garage for the Naught Trucking Company.

“And I tell ya, yer imagining things, pal,” Rocco replied in that squeaky voice of his that just drove the third man crazy. Still he said nothing as he looked over Rocco, short and squat and dressed in greasy ragged jeans and torn shirt; then glanced to Lenny, tall and broad-shouldered, stringy blond hair spilling out from under the Gatsby hat he wore. He shook his head and said nothing, instead looking around the three-truck garage and checking for sources for Lenny’s banging.

“Okay, mugs, spread out,” he said. “Roc, you go along the back of the trucks, Lenny, check up front and the doors. I’ll check the side rooms. Shout if ya spot anything.” He turned to open the door to the office and then added with a sad sigh, “Anything other than mice.”

“Gotcha, Benjy,” Lenny confirmed as he walked up to the front of the building, and Rocco headed to the rear of the large cement garage.

Benjy moved through the office. He flicked on the light switch and started to look around the small room, then headed through a rear door to check that out as well. He never noticed the dark-blue blur that darted behind him and into the closet that had already been looked into, and when Benjy heard Rocco call out, he paid little heed to the fact that the closet door was slightly ajar, masked eyes peering out to watch him dash off in response.

“Watchya got, Roc?” Benjy called out as he moved up to the storage room on the far side of the garage.

“The doorknob’s broken off,” Rocco replied, kneeling over where he’d found it. He handed it up to Benjy who also eyed the mallet lying on the floor.

“Hey, Benjy, Rocco, the side door’s opened up,” Lenny called out from around one of the trucks. “Looks like whoever was here ran off that way.” Lenny then headed out into the night.

Benjy looked around the corner of the truck in time to see Lenny take off and just shook his head again. “Let’s go, Roc. Can’t let him go wandering around the city all night long.”

“You got it, Benjy,” Rocco said as the pair headed out after their errant partner.

Back in the office, Midnight gave a cocky grin as he heard the three men head out into the night, pursuing the false trail he’d left behind. It gave him the time he needed to go looking through the office, finally jimmying open a filing cabinet and quickly poring over the enclosed papers.

“C’mon, c’mon, give me something to go back with,” he muttered in worried frustration, but nothing that he looked over seemed to give him a hint of anything more than just business as normal for the Naught Truckers. He ran his hand over his jaw as he looked around the office, and then let the grin form again.

“Two episodes ago, Juan wrote up a very neat little scene,” Midnight muttered to himself. “You don’t suppose...?” He pulled out a drawer from the cabinet and looked underneath, then did it again for the middle drawer. “Ah ha!” He tugged out two files that had been jammed underneath and glanced them over quickly. He noticed dark green triangle stickers placed on the upper left corner of each folder, and a file number for each that started “USAPrM”.

“Not quite a smoking gun, but enough to get me started,” Midnight said as he slid them under his suit-coat and strapped them into the inner lining. “Now to get out of here,” he mused further as he slipped out of the office before rolling his eyes up in his head, and added with a thought, and to stop talking out loud for the listening audience at home.

Washington, D.C.
22^nd July, 1935

“I didn’t expect to hear from any of you folks quite so soon,” King Faraday said as he entered his supervisor’s office, only to be met by a Naval lieutenant he didn’t recognize. He glanced around, but no one else was in the office, and this made Faraday lean back into the door to close it and keep some distance from the stranger. “This isn’t how it was supposed to work either, I thought.”

The lieutenant stared back with a quizzical expression, and held a folder out to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Agent Faraday. I’m Lt. Kane, and I’m here to deliver this to you.” After Faraday took the file and glanced over it to find no odd marks like he’d been warned of, Kane continued. “You’ve been seconded to the Department of the Navy. We need you to investigate that break-in.”

Faraday flipped through the pages but then looked up at the officer. “Why? Naval military police not up to scratch?”

“Not hardly,” Kane snapped back irritably. “Posse Comitatus Act. We can’t go and be the police on civilian soil, and that’s where the crimes are.”

Faraday nodded slowly as he read over the break-in at the trucking firm, and the loss of the files, and apparently a number of U.S. Army materials. “Why is the Navy dropping this off to me, if it’s Army that’s stolen from?”

Kane narrowed his eyes. “Joint project.” He retrieved his cap from the desk and started for the office door. “Just do your job, G-Man. We need this guy found and caught and quick. We have a plane ready for take-off for noon today. Be on it.” He opened the door and stormed out, leaving Faraday to look over the file again.

San Francisco, the words fluttered over his brain. What the hell are you doing, Midnight?

Sacramento, California
23^rd July, 1935

Midnight was feeling pretty good, despite misgivings about the scope of this mysterious Project M, and its military connections. He was feeling pretty good about Speed, and his friend’s willingness to go out on a limb for him. He and this Ms. Cooper he was talking a lot about took a big risk, and got him some key information, and now the mystery man was determined to hold up his end, vindicate their actions, and expose something rotten festering beneath the Army’s notice.

That was the goal at least.

It seems this Doctor Zero, whoever he is, he’s supposed to have his people make a pickup of smuggled medical supplies coming in from out of Fort Sam Houston, Midnight remembered of the conversation he’d had with Speed the night before. We didn’t find anything about this Zero guy other than he seems to be the spider in the middle of it all, and we think he’s somehow infiltrated this Project M for his own uses.

Midnight was creeping across the top of a warehouse in the capital of California, taking cover in the dark, moonless night. He peered down through the skylight into the huge room below, trying to make out details and make sense of what was going on.

The Pacific Air Depot seems to be where this nut is planning to move the bodies out from, Speed had explained. Don’t know where he’s taking them, or how long they’ll be there, but our contact says that the depot can store a lot of materiel, that can be hidden away there for a long time.

Medical supplies smuggled up by truck from Fort Sam Houston, bodies smuggled out from San Francisco by truck, and a half-dozen personnel transfers among various military units all led to a flurry of activity to hide what was going on; that’s what Midnight figured. Soon, Doctor Zero’s people would show up here, to grab the medical supplies, and then he’d have his next lead.

Our friend says that not all of the funding for Project M is coming from government sources, the soft, sweet voice of Harriet Cooper said, and Midnight smiled at the memory. He couldn’t wait to meet her. Jungle girls were nice, but someone who knew the latest fashions was more his thing. He said that, from what was found in some financial records we nicked, there were outside sources of income, and he suspects that it’s not on the up and up. That Project M might not be aware of it even. Midnight’s mind immediately turned to the opium dens that had started this whole debacle and shook his head.

Midnight frowned at that thought as he heard a heavy vehicle pulling up to the rear of the warehouse. He crept over to the edge of the roof and saw the olive drab truck come to a stop. His frown deepened as he watched the two soldiers hop out of the cab. I don’t want to fight soldiers. They might have no clue, they might just be following orders. He watched them open up the loading dock door and he moved back over the skylight. Or they might be thugs in green clothing. Let’s hope it’s that one.

He watched the two men look around in the warehouse, finally locating their prize. Midnight left them to their work and headed for a fire escape, quickly dashing down the metal stairs, finally creeping up onto the opened dock door. He grinned with nervous excitement, adrenaline building up in his veins at the impending fight. He crept into the building, using available crates and boxes to hide from his targets as they loaded up a pair of handtrucks with boxes. His fists curled up tight in their black gloves, his face set with determination, and he prepared to leap out.

“Don’t do it, masked man.” The voice was sharp, distinct, commanding, and came from behind the man called Midnight.

The mystery man’s eyes widened in surprise as the soldiers glanced in his direction. Midnight spun in his crouch and looked at the silhouette of King Faraday. The thickly-built agent was glaring at Midnight, a soft breeze tugging at the edges of his trench coat, cigarette clenched in his snarling mouth. He grabbed it and angrily tossed it to the ground, stomping on it hard as he moved toward the mystery man.

“Faraday! What are you...” Midnight never finished the question as the secret service agent closed the gap with surprising speed and brought his leg up into a vicious kick that caught the crouched vigilante full in the chest. The blue-clad hero spun back and crashed into the wooden crates, gasping as he felt the splinters rip up his shirt and slice at his skin, but Faraday didn’t care.

“I’m here as a federal law enforcement officer,” Faraday said sharply as his hands reached down to grab the shoulders of the face-down Midnight’s suit coat and started to heft the man up. “These men are here on orders of the Army. What’s your excuse, masked man?” he snapped as he brought Midnight sharply up to his feet, his back to Faraday.

“Crime-fighting, copper,” Midnight retorted as he used the momentum built up by the agent, snapped his head back and caught Faraday full in the face. As Faraday staggered back from the sudden blow, Midnight pulled away with his own, not-inconsiderable strength, the sleeves of his suit-coat ripping off in the agent’s hands.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Faraday growled as he leaped into Midnight, a heavy shoulder smashing into the small of Midnight’s back and sending them both to the ground. The masked man grunted in pain as his jaw cracked into the concrete floor, and Faraday’s weight fell on top of him from behind.

Midnight refused to pay attention to the aches building in his body, and instead rolled with the tackle, trying to bring Faraday around and under him. He threw a powerful fist into the agent’s jaw, as Faraday landed a pair of wicked blows to the mystery man’s short ribs.

“Get that stuff loaded!” Faraday ordered the soldiers as he grunted in pain. This gave Midnight a chance to pull his legs up under Faraday and kick him off with a powerful thrust, and then Midnight rolled up onto his feet. “I’ve got this handled.” Faraday wiped the small trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth before throwing himself back at his opponent.

The soldiers did as they were told, watching Faraday continue to speak in clipped, quiet threats (they could only imagine, by the angry responses of the vigilante) while running the handtrucks out to the waiting vehicle. When they’d finished loading the truck, they looked back in time to see Faraday land a brutal punch to Midnight’s stomach, doubling the vigilante over and into a powerful uppercut that threw Midnight’s head, whole body, back and sent him tumbling to the ground.

Faraday huffed, and puffed, and twisted his head from side to side, a wicked crackling from his neck coming in response, and then he looked at the soldiers. Faraday secured Midnight’s hands behind his back, and then lugged him to the rear of the truck. “Okay, let’s get back to Pac and get this whole thing finished. I’m ready to get back to D.C.”

Pacific Air Depot,
10 miles outside of Sacramento,
later that very night

The truck pulled into the main building of the Army Air Corps base, and shut down, rattling to a stop. Lights flared to life, covering the middle of the large room with blinding light as Faraday jumped down from the back of the truck, dragging along a dazed, semi-conscious Midnight with him. The soldiers stepped out of the cab and all three men shielded their eyes against the powerful floodlights.

“I see we’ve captured the criminal, Agent Faraday,” came a shrill, cruel-sounding voice from somewhere in the blaze of yellowish light. “Excellent job. I knew we could count on you.”

Faraday tried to focus on the direction of the voice, seeing what seemed to be a scrawny, short silhouette in the distance. He wore a labcoat, some of the light seemed to glint off thick glasses, but more details eluded the agent. “Yeah. Got him. His name is Midnight, a mystery man out of San Francisco.”

“Excellent. We’ll put him in the stockade, and you can be on your way,” the man said as he seemed to move down the side of the wall, keeping Faraday from being able to focus on him.

“Shouldn’t he go to the civilian authorities?” Faraday asked, brow furrowed.

“What do you know about the military code of justice, agent?” the man snapped back.

“Nothing.”

“Good. Let’s pretend that I do, and I say he stays in the military’s hands,” the man said as the soldiers looked at each other now, not sure what was going on. “So into the stockade, and then back to your regular assignments, Agent Faraday.”

“What’s he gotten into?” Faraday demanded to know.

“None of your concern. You’re not cleared for this, so don’t let it bother you. You did a good job, Agent, don’t mess it up now.” The figure had moved into the recesses of the building, and Faraday couldn’t even make out his shadowy shape anymore.

“I’ve Delta Green clearance on military matters. I saw what was on those files, so I know I’m cleared,” Faraday challenged the strange little man, and grinned when there was a long pause.

“How did you know about the file’s markings?” The silhouette reappeared, and grew more distinct as the figure stepped closer this time. Bald, shriveled, a peanut of a man, the very picture of a mad scientist from the pulp novels. “How could you know what Midnight found?”

“Just a guess?” Midnight replied for his partner as he suddenly lashed out with his hands, grabbing the small man by the collar, the faked bindings falling away easily as Faraday spun on the two soldiers.

“Unless you’re cleared Delta Green, get out of here and forget you heard those words,” Faraday ordered with a firm authority. Already shaken and uncertain about events, and seeing no actual officers now that they could see the strange little man better, the soldiers listened and backed away, and then ran to find someone with authority on the base.

“No touching government property, you bad man!” the strange man chastised Midnight. “Besides, you’re going to have your hands full in a moment.” He grinned, a particularly horrid little grin, like a gash across the scrawny man’s weak little chin.

Faraday turned back to Midnight and the strange man, and saw new silhouettes moving up toward them. Three of them, hunched and twisted, but human, shuffling in their direction. They made no noises beyond the scrape and thump of footfalls and, as they became clearer in the harsh glare, Midnight’s hands reflexively let go of the mad scientist and he stepped back next to Faraday.

“Playing possum, good idea,” Midnight said to the agent as the ghastly, gray-skinned soldiers came into sharper view. Blank eyes stared out past the two men, long, twisted limbs bulged with muscles in disconcerting places, and the shambling gait would have been comical if Midnight and Faraday weren’t positive of the three figures’ deceased status. “Getting me in here to confront Doctor Zero, good idea. Fighting the undead...not so good.”

Faraday coolly pulled out his revolver and lifted it up, squeezing off two rounds in rapid succession. One of the creatures recoiled a bit as the shots smashed through his inert heart. Without missing a beat, Faraday pulled his aim higher, planting another shot in the center of its forehead that sent it falling onto its back. That moment was shortlived when the creature rose unsteadily back to its feet.

Now both men had concerned looks on their faces.

“I just wanted to bust an opium dealer, that’s all!” Midnight cursed as he charged at the unnatural soldiers, tackling one and pushing it back before it was able to react, throwing it onto a large metal drum with a sickening thud. Midnight was soon staggering back himself when the monster’s arms crashed down on his own broad shoulders with incredible strength.

Faraday brought his firearm down against the face of the revenant he’d shot, staggering it back again, and breaking the jaw so that it hung in a grotesque taunt as he swung back at the agent. The other one did as well, this blow catching enough of Faraday’s side to send him staggering back several steps and making his ribs ache.

Midnight was thrown to one side and he crashed into another stack of barrels, forcing the air from his lungs and he felt his ankle twist in a very bad way, leaving him stunned for several moments. Faraday sent a harsh kick into the stomach of the revenant he’d been shooting, but barely got a response this time, though he was able to roll with its counterpunch, and get away from its attacks safely.

“Faraday, get the fire axe!” Midnight called out as the mystery man pulled himself up to his feet. He was shaky, but he had a plan, one that came to mind as soon as he smelled the contents of the barrels, felt the stinging liquid drip onto his exposed skin. Two of the revenants responded to his voice and started to move toward him as a result, but Midnight seemed unfazed. “Get to the junction box, and when I say now, give it all you got!”

Faraday could smell the turpentine that was spilling from where Midnight stood and gave a grim smile in response, getting the axe and getting into position. As he did so, Midnight used all his remaining strength to heft one barrel up and bring it into the chest of one revenant. His ankle screamed in pain at him, threatening to topple him, but the barrel crashed hard enough to knock the creature over and Midnight gave a rolling leap to his left just in time to let the other creature merely tear up more of his shirt from his back.

“Damn, that smarts!” Midnight cried out as his wounds rolled through some of the stray liquid, and he nearly didn’t get back to his feet, his ankle falling out from under him. But he rolled out another barrel, putting it between him and the third revenant as it shuffled up to him. He taunted it and ducked the powerful fist, letting it break into the metallic skin of the drum and then more turpentine started to pour out.

Again the revenant lunged with its fist, and Midnight ducked under it, shouldering underneath the hideous undead monster and flipping it over his back, letting it crash into the other two revenants before rolling the barrel with all his might at Faraday.

He raced as fast as his limp would carry him, just barely outdistancing the revenants, and he cried “Now!” when the barrel and its trail of caustic liquid was close enough, so that the sparks from Faraday’s blow could ignite it. Flames coursed out over the turpentine, sweeping over the revenants and eliciting dull cries of pain from them as Faraday caught the stumbling Midnight and pulled him from the building.

The two men staggered from the building as flames tore into other barrels of flammable liquids and electrical cables and soon small explosions were rocking the building as the military base’s personnel responded to the emergency, battling the hungry inferno, and initially ignoring the tattered heroes as they rested against a building on the other side of the field.

“Look. A building on fire. After we got into a fight,” Midnight deadpanned. “It’s good to have traditions in this business.” He leaned heavily against the wall and struggled to keep from sobbing at the pain eating his foot and itching at his wounds.

“I have no idea how I’m going to explain this one,” Faraday said in reply, just staring at the rising flames. “I mean, none. At all. I can’t even explain this to myself.”

“Don’t worry. I think Speed’s on top of all this.”

“Ah. Well.” King Faraday exhaled, long and slow, and pulled a cigarette out of his jacket, staring at it for long moments before lighting it. “Speed’s on top of it. Yes, that makes me feel much better.”