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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:10:01 GMT -5
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:11:18 GMT -5
The Immortal Legend of the Hawkman Issue 2 of 12: Wings of Destiny, Pt 2 Written by David Charlton Cover by Brandon Herren
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:12:54 GMT -5
Cairo, Egypt The Kasbah Club…
“Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me, anyone else but me, anyone else but me…” The singer warbled the popular radio standard lovingly into the blocky microphone as the piano banged out a jaunty tune. “Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me…”
The crowd was appreciative, but small, due mostly to the table of jack-booted Nazi soldiers sitting closest to the stage; they hooted and hollered at Shiera, their eyes traveling unashamedly over her silky dress, and swilled cheap Egyptian beer. She ignored them and played to the back of the room.
Her run at Aida had been a smashing success, and practically guaranteed her a career when she got back to Gotham. The production had closed last night, but she had decided to stay on in Cairo to wait for Cave to return.
Or, if she was being honest with herself, was she waiting for Carter…?
When her set was over, she excused herself from the stage with a curtsy and, navigating past the table of whopping and grasping Germans, joined Speed at the bar.
Her cousin was deep in conversation with a blonde man with an intense gaze.
“Shiera, meet my new friend, Nelson, Kent Nelson from Salem, Massachusetts.”
She held her hand out for the stranger, who took it politely. Shiera did not miss the sudden widening of those intense eyes. Did she know him from somewhere? He certainly seemed to recognize her!
“Did you say Chay-Ara?” He asked intently.
“Shiera.” She corrected, a little unnerved by the intensity of his stare.
“Ah.” Kent nodded, looking perplexed. “Pleasure…” He mumbled.
“Kent’s an archaeologist, like that Carter Hall fellow.” Speed explained, and he rambled on about his new friend, but Shiera barely heard him. The mere mention of his name conjured an image of Carter Hall in her mind’s eye. Why did she feel such a profound emotional attachment to him? It was obvious he felt the same about her, but how was this possible? They had only just met, and yet she felt she knew all there was to know about him, and at the same time felt utterly exposed to him, as well…
“Cyril, please take me back to the hotel. I’m not feeling very well…” She smiled a weak apology at Kent Nelson. With some consternation, Speed quaffed the remainder of his drink, shrugged a farewell at Kent, and took his cousin by the arm to escort her out of the club.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:13:14 GMT -5
When they had gone, a man in a black turban detached himself from the shadows and quietly left the club.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:14:57 GMT -5
Shiera leaned on her cousin’s arm as he led her down the darkened streets of the seedy Cairo neighborhood. They had been unable to find a taxi, but the walk to the hotel was not long, and they ignored the stares from the locals lurking in alleys and doorways.
Speed whistled one of the tunes that Shiera had sung, trying to appear nonchalant, but his eyes darted into every darkened corner, seeing a threat in every one.
They turned down a narrow side street, just as the moon moved out from behind the clouds, picking up their pace.
Up ahead, where the lane opened into a wider boulevard, a dark figure waited for them, blocking their path. Speed brought them up short and Shiera gasped at the figure’s sudden appearance.
“Back the way we came.” Speed hissed, as the figure up ahead started slowly towards them.
They turned, only to see their way blocked by two more shadowy forms, men in flowing black robes and dark turbans. And from nearby, another stepped from a doorway, a wickedly curved blade glinting in the moonlight. There was a charnel stench on the air, as if a grave had opened up and breathed its fumes out upon the living world.
Speed thrust his cousin behind him and drew from his belt a small pistol.
“Cyril!” Shiera was aghast. “Where in the world did you get---.”
“We don’t want any trouble.” Speed ignored her, and aimed his pistol at the nearest robed man, the one with the knife. “We’ll give you our money, just let us be on our way and nobody gets hurt.”
The one with the knife stepped slowly, but purposefully towards them, an evil grin spreading across his face. A face that seemed to be composed of rotting flesh.
“The Sons of Anubis are not interested in money.” It scoffed in a heavily accented voice. “And we will take what we want.” He raised his cruel, red eyes to leer at Shiera.
As if this were a signal, they all began to close in on the horrified cousins, long knives appearing in all their hands.
Without hesitation, Speed fired. The retort cracked loudly, and the thing was thrown back by the force of the bullet, but did not fall. Speed yanked Shiera out of the path of the next closest attacker, and fired again, but this time the shot went wide, ricocheting off a wall. The Sons of Anubis wasted no time. One of them knocked Speed’s arm aside roughly, and the pistol flew from his grasp, while another slashed at the young man, opening a shallow gash in his forearm. Shiera screamed as loud as she could, but it was cut off by a dirty and foul-smelling hand blocking her mouth. She nearly gagged at the stench! She had been seized from behind, and was being dragged away, forced to watch as Speed, fists swinging, struggled to keep the other two men at bay.
“Shiera!” He yelled in panic when he saw her predicament. The momentary distraction was all the Sons of Anubis needed. One of his attackers had been able to flank him, and brought the butt of his knife down on the back of Speed’s head, clubbing him down. Speed stumbled and fell to his knees, his vision swimming--- which was why he could never be certain of what he saw next.
There was a blue and gold shimmering, and a light that illuminated the dark side street. Speed shielded his eyes, but thought he caught a glimpse of a man-like figure descending from the low rooftops, into the fray.
<Azar narku ftaghn, hotep!> A strangely hollow voice pronounced stridently. There was a bright flash which caused both cousins to close their eyes tightly, and the Sons of Anubis to raise their hideous voices in one shrieking cry. Shiera staggered as she was abruptly released, struggling to maintain her balance.
<Begone, foul spawn. Return to the oblivion you so richly deserve!> Came the mysterious voice again.
Their cries still echoing on the air, the Sons of Anubis seemed to just dissolve, their tattered dark robes falling lifelessly to the ground amidst a cloud of ancient dust that swirled and whirled and blew away on a sudden wind.
All that remained of them was a lingering odor of decay…
And the cousins were alone on the darkened street, gasping in disbelief.
Shiera rushed to Speed, helping the groggy young man to his feet.
“Did you see him?” Speed blinked to clear his vision, sure that he had briefly seen the after image of a glowing ankh hovering in the air before him.
“Him? Who? Cyril, what the hell just happened…?” She demanded breathlessly, supporting him.
“I--- I don’t know. Those… things! The Sons of Anubis… They were---.” But he was either unable or unwilling to finish the thought. He steadied himself, taking one last look for their mysterious rescuer, and then hurried Shiera onward, neither one of them looking back.
And in the shadows, moonlight glinted off a smooth golden helm…
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:16:03 GMT -5
The desert…
I am Hawkman.
My name is Carter Hall. I am the son of a long line of Knickerbocker aristocrats and heir to a modest estate. I work at the Metropolitan Museum in Manhattan as curator of the Antiquities Department, and I occasionally lecture at various Ivy League institutions. I have some renown in archaeological field work, as well.
A long time ago, my name was Khufu Ma-at Kha-Taar. I was the son of a long line of kings, and heir to the United Monarchy of Upper and Lower Egypt. I was a warrior prince, and a champion of the hawk-god Horus, a defender of justice, and the savior of my people. In the wreckage of an alien spacecraft, I discovered the miraculous Nth Metal, which has given wings to my destiny.
In between I have been Tiberius Grachus, Tribune of the people in Republican Rome, Etienne de Polignac, a Crusader knight, Hideku Takeo, a samurai of medieval Japan and Hannibal Hawkes, a gunfighter in the American Old West.
And there had been others, many others.
But I am Hawkman. At the simplest, most profound level, I am only Hawkman.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:19:11 GMT -5
The night is cool, the desert air rushing by me as I ride the currents of the wind north. I feel the impossibly familiar sensation of the Nth Metal washing over me in waves, coursing through my body, protecting me from the elements and enhancing not only my senses, but my every natural ability. My eyes spot a snake far below, winding its way towards a desert mouse, my ears hear the teeth of the mouse chattering, and I smell the odor of a hippopotamus swimming in the Nile miles away.
I have little time to savor these new and yet familiar feelings. I am caught in the gambit of my mortal enemy, Hath-Set. The wheel of destiny is spinning faster and faster towards an end that is as inexorable as it is inevitable. He has found me again, lured me to the land of my first birth with the instrument of my first murder: a knife forged of the same Nth Metal as the hawk-shaped amulets on my chest. Somehow, he has used my old friend Professor James Rock as a pawn in his nefarious scheme, and now it appears he has my other college chum, Cave Carson, as well.
Upon my escape from the buried Temple of Horus, I discovered the St. Roch Expedition base camp had been attacked. There were signs of a struggle, so Cave had not gone quietly. I saw again the fearsome black-robed would-be assassin who had thrown me into the buried Temple, and remembered that fateful evening, millennia past, when I had encountered them for the first time, when they had been living men: the Sons of Anubis, the hands and eyes of Hath-Set!
I have to find Cave and Jim. And I have to reach Shiera before Hastor gets to her.
Head up and chest out, I reach deep within me for the surge of Nth Metal-fueled power and glide like a rocket over the earth towards the lights of Cairo.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:20:01 GMT -5
Cairo, Egypt Shepards Hotel…
After seeing Speed’s injury dressed and reporting the assault to the dubious Egyptian police, Shiera retired, exhausted, to her own room, bolting the door securely behind her. It was well after midnight, and her nerves wanted steadying--- she attempted to light up a cigarette, but heard again the familiar voice of Carter Hall: You shouldn’t be smoking those. They’re not good for your voice. She sighed, and decided instead to wash the sand and sweat of the day away with a bath before bed.
As she disrobed, she noticed on the nightstand by her bed a vase of native flowers that had not been there when she left, obviously delivered by a bellhop. Thinking they were from Cave, and anxious to hear some news from the expedition, she was surprised and disappointed to read the card: Bellisima, diva! You are an ornament to outshine the stars and food for the gods! Will you consent to a private concert? I would die your humble servant. It was signed A.H.
She dropped the card in disgust. Hastor! She had noticed him in the front row of every performance of the opera, gazing hungrily up at her, as if he knew what she looked like naked and was imagining it. She had rebuffed his every attempt at contact, even to feigning illness. There was something about the man that made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
The flowers were pretty, though; dusken blooms of a deep lavender and a fragrance of myrrh. She admired them briefly, and then went in to her bath…
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:22:41 GMT -5
Whorls of steam rose from the claw-footed white porcelain bathtub and Shiera, running her hands through her newly rinsed hair, lay back, submerged to the neck, luxuriating in the sensation of being clean. At last, the fetid touch of the Sons of Anubis and the horrors of the night were fading away, and she drowsed, submitting to a bone-numbing weariness.
And she dreamed… She was in a barge, floating serenely down the Nile, inhaling the sweet smell of incense (not unlike the attar-smell coming from the native flowers on her nightstand!), and there were strong sun-bronzed arms around her, confident lover’s hands caressing her. The hot breath against her ear whispered: “Chay-Ara…”
In the bathtub, she did not notice the fragrant mist rising from the strange bouquet of flowers in the other room… Trails of purple smoke steamed from the buds and floated, as if directed, in spirals towards the bathroom, towards the unsuspecting Shiera…
Still in the throes of her waking dream, her eyelashes fluttering, a low moan escaped past her slightly parted lips…
“Carter…?”
She struggled to get a look at the man in her dream, suffused with his warmth, his heart beating in time with her pulse. This was the reality, she was sure. She would be waking into the dream…
She took his head in her hands and pulled it up to get a look at him…
The smoke from the flowers encircled her, filling the steamy room. She inhaled the sweet fragrance, so much like the incense in her dream… Her hands gripped the side of the tub, her very limbs quivering.
In her mind’s eye, she saw the face of the man whose heart beat in her chest---.
And it was not the one she expected.
A shaved head and small, fanatical eyes leered at her! Shiera started, splashing water over the side of the tub.
“Hath-Set!”
The mist from the strange flowers filled the suite, and she breathed it deeply. As quickly as it came, all fear and anxiety fell away, and an inexplicable calm settled over her.
“Hath-Set.” She repeated, an affirmation this time. Methodically, she rose, dripping from the bath, and pausing only long enough to drape a robe over her shoulders and belt it loosely around her waist, she left her suite.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:23:09 GMT -5
She emerged from the elevator into the lobby of the grand hotel and strode, shoeless, across the cool marble floor. Those still lingering, sleepily, over their drinks shook their heads in amazement to see the beautiful young woman walk calmly out into the night.
“Hath-Set.” She breathed, her eyes wide, her voice without inflection.
Cairo was not a safe place at night. There was not enough electricity to power streetlamps, and most establishments, other than the colonial hotels, closed early. Taxis were parked on the side of the street, but few were on the narrow roads. A rougher element owned the night. Evil-looking men, unwashed and corrupt in the soul watched as she wandered the twisting lanes of the old city, a woman alone, barefoot and barely dressed. But they left her unmolested. For even they could see she was under a spell, and another’s mark was upon her. For those with the eyes to see it, they marked it well, for few would defy this man, this sorcerer of the old religion, who had haunted Cairenes since the days of the pharaohs…
Even fewer would dare speak his name aloud.
“Hath-Set.” Shiera droned.
A clear path was made for her, beggars and cutpurses scurrying to get out of her way. Overhead, a gibbous moon shone as bright as bone, lighting her footsteps.
She wound her way though the twisting streets to the outskirts of town to a magnificent villa built in the days of the Caesars. At the gates, two dark-robed Sons of Anubis stood watch, and allowed her to pass. She noticed, with curious detachment, that a dung beetle crawled in and out of the flesh of one of them, and that maggots were busy devouring what was left of an eye cavity on the other.
That was when her will, stuffed deep down inside her, began to awake, and with a steadily rising panic, she began to realize what was going on. But her rebellious limbs carried her onward, resisting her commands.
Torches blazed in the wide courtyard, sending their inky smoke to the heavens. Two man, both bruised and bloodied, but groggily aware, were tied to columns by a covered arcade, one of whom Shiera registered as Cave. He called her name, but she barely heard it through the fog in her head. Something else had her attention. He waited for her there, a bald-pated man in ornate satin robes, embroidered in cloth of gold. He stood before a plain stone altar, idly toying with the loops of a bullwhip he gripped tightly in his hand. On either side of him were twin braziers burning the strange hypnotic incense that had summoned her here.
“Hastor…?” Shiera managed, through gritted teeth, even as she knelt on the paved stone at his feet.
The shining, triumphant face that hovered above her glowed in the moonlight.
“Shiera, my dear.” He crowed. “How nice of you to come.” He reached down and cupped her chin in his hand. She squirmed at his touch, sure that the revulsion showed on her face. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:29:55 GMT -5
The House of the Purple Pillows, Thieves’ Quarter, Cairo…
Sated, Captain Hans Moldoff left the houri pouting in the louse-ridden cot and walked across the dirty little room to the flask sitting on the table by the balcony doors. He unscrewed it and took a deep pull, the vodka settling his nerves.
He had had an unsettling night. His association with Dr. Anton Hastor did not go back very far, but in the few months that Moldoff had been taking the American’s money, Moldoff had seen things best thought of only in the light of day. He had just this evening delivered to Hastor the American geologist, and remembered with a shutter the look of feverish anticipation on his employer’s face.
And, of course, there were those wretched corpse things, the Sons of Anubis…
Moldoff was starting to think he should catch the next train out of Cairo.
Outside the smudged window, the roofs and minarets of the city were dark, but the full moon gave off enough light to show him a bird gliding across the skyline. Sipping from his flask, he watched with some interest as the bird arced up and angled a headlong path… straight for the window he was staring out of.
Was the stupid creature going to crash into the glass?
“Effendi, come back to bed.” Whined the perfumed prostitute.
But Moldoff had no attention for anything but this weird bird. He quickly realized that whatever it was, was too big to be a bird…
And that it had a spear in its hand, poised to throw!
Moldoff turned and leaped away just as the balcony window exploded in a shower of deadly shards, the spear embedding itself in the opposite wall. The houri screamed, and Moldoff lobster-crawled backward as the winged man landed inside the room.
“Aieee! A hawk-man of Horus!” Screeched the panicked girl, holding the stained sheet up to her nakedness. “We shall be struck down for our inequities!”
The eyes behind the hawk-mask burned intently, but ignored the girl. The winged avenger advanced into the room, his boots crunching on glass, and loomed over the stricken figure of Moldoff. He slowly and deliberately drew the antique short sword and leveled it at the quivering man.
“Bastard. Your betrayal at Wadi Erdu has not gone unnoticed.” Said Hawkman, biting back angrier words. “You left Carter Hall to die.”
His eyes wide, Moldoff stammered: “I had no choice! Hastor, he hired me--- the Sons of Anubis---.”
“I know all about the Sons of Anubis.” Came the grim response. “What have you done with Cave Carson?” The swordspoint pressed into the flesh of Moldoff’s throat.
“I delivered him to Hastor, at the ruins of the Roman villa, on the outskirts of town.”
“Does he have Jim Rock there as well?” A small bead of blood appeared on the swordspoint.
“Yes!”
Hawkman stepped closer, standing menacingly over Moldoff like an avenging angel.
“And Shiera Saunders?”
Shaking almost uncontrollably, Moldoff cried: “I don’t know! I swear!”
For a moment, Hawkman just stood there and glared at him, weighing the truth of his words, and all that could be heard was the hysterical sobbing of the houri. His lip curling in disgust, Hawkman abruptly sheathed his sword, reached over to the wall and pulled out his spear and without another word, leapt out of the window, his powerful wings spreading their full length and beating the air.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:31:43 GMT -5
Ruined Roman villa, Outskirts of Cairo…
“Ah, you are as beautiful in this life as you were in the first.” Mused Hastor, as he pulled her to her feet. Shiera struggled to regain control of her will; bound and beaten, no help could come from Cave or the other man, whom she did not recognize, so she was at the mercy of this madman’s whims.
“You were to be my handmaiden, until that cursed prince stole you from me!” Hastor went on, his hand still on her chin, pushing her face from side to side, as if he was inspecting a potential purchase. “I will give you that choice again.” He decided, abruptly letting her go. He took a coil of the bullwhip he was holding and pulled it taut with a martinet’s air. “Consummate your true destiny with me, or continue to wallow in that ocean of death and blood with Khufu!”
The smell of the incense was doing strange things to Shiera’s head. Her own will was slowly beginning to reassert itself, but in her mind’s eye she was seeing a misty haze of images, triggered by the strange, mystical fragrance… Memories of a youth, frolicking by the Nile, prayers in a smoky temple, a hot desert sun glinting off the pyramids, an exhilarating sense of slipping the bonds of gravity and soaring over the world… and of a man--- a soul!--- as familiar to her as her own reflection.
She let out an involuntary gasp. “Kha-Taar…?”
Hastor seized her roughly by the upper arm, bruising her flesh, and cracked his bullwhip, hissing: “Choose, Chay-Ara! I will not give you this chance again!”
This triggered a series of more violent memories. Hastor’s own crazed, ecstatic eyes, a flash of a knife’s blade and gruesome spray of blood… Shiera’s hand went involuntarily to her throat, expecting to feel a gaping gash there…!
She looked up in horror at Hastor.
“You murdered me---.” She breathed. “I remember it now! The temple,… on the night before my wedding. Khufu had come, but he was too late! You had set a trap for us…!”
A snarl of frustration twisted Hastor’s features, and he violently shoved her backward. She stumbled and fell to the ground.
“Stupid girl! I have your answer then.” He raised the whip over her.
Behind them, Cave Carson struggled uselessly against his bonds, screaming his fiancée’s name.
Hastor’s whip swirled and snaked back---
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:33:10 GMT -5
There was a great rush of air behind them, and the forward crack of the whip was suddenly arrested! Hastor was jerked backward by his grip on the whip handle. He whirled around, furiously, and was confronted by a masked and winged man, a long spear in one hand, and the end of the whip in the other, gauntleted hand.
“Leave her alone, Hastor.” Snarled Hawkman, coiling the whip around the Claw of Horus. “Your quarrel is with me.”
Hastor’s eyes went wide with shock.
“Khufu!” He exclaimed, his fear naked on his face. But in the next moment, those eyes narrowed. “No… You’re just Carter Hall, aren’t you?”
“Both right, High Priest.” Hawkman began pulling the whip to him, causing Hastor to stumble forward. “I’ve awakened to my destiny, and I remember everything. And nothing more clearly than that first lifetime. Especially the night it ended.”
Hastor dropped the whip handle before he could be pulled within range of that spear, taking a step backward.
“And so we come full circle then, hawk-man of Horus!” He spat. “Imagine my surprise and delight to see that we are joined by our beloved Chay-Ara! After thousands of years, our Ka’s are still bound together in a cycle of murder and revenge!” The crazed Hastor drew himself up to his full height. “I knew this night would come, from the moment I met James Rock, and learned of your existence. Who do you think pointed him towards the Temple at Wadi Erdu, and lured you to Egypt?”
Tied to the pillar next to Cave, Professor Rock groaned in despair.
Hastor went on. “But now the good professor’s usefulness is at an end. If only he had found the Nth Metal knife, for old time’s sake…”
He doesn’t know! Hawkman thought about the repulsive knife tucked into his belt at his back. James must have sent it as a warning. He must have known there was something not right about Hastor!
“Ah, but it matters not! There are many ways for a man to die… Allow me to show you some of them!
With a sweep of his arm, Hastor dashed the nearest incense brazier over, the dust and smoke enveloping Hawkman’s face, causing him to choke and stagger backward.
“Sons of Anubis!” Crowed Hastor’s voice. “Kill the hawk-man!”
Coughing, Hawkman was forced to pull off his mask to clear his vision, just in time to see the shambling forms of the undead minions of Hath-Set close upon him, moonlight glinting from rotten teeth. He could see Hastor through the press of tattered black-robed enemies making his getaway into the villa--- and Shiera was flung, kicking and screaming, over his shoulder!
With no time to lose, Hawkman threw himself at his foes. He swung wide with the broad-bladed spear, forcing them to flinch away. They encircled him, but this was no threat to a man with wings. He shot straight up and over them, coming to a landing by the columns where his friends were tied.
“Carter, what the hell---?” Cave blurted, staring in amazement at his unmasked friend, just as James babbled: “Carter, I didn’t know! Hastor, he… I never meant to---.”
“There’s no time for this now!” He was already slashing their bonds with the Nth Metal knife. The Sons of Anubis, however, were regrouping, and coming towards them. Hawkman turned, slashing with the Claw of Horus, just as one reared behind him; the undead thing fell, screaming, giving the others pause.
He had won them a moment, no more. His friends freed, he pressed his spear into Cave’s hand, and gave the short sword to James.
“You just have to hold them off for a little while; help is already on the way! I’ll be back as soon as I can!”
“Shiera---!” Cave cried urgently.
“I’ll bring her back safely, I swear it!” Hawkman shared a meaningful look with Cave, then launched himself into the air.
Below, his friends took up defensive stances and yelled challenges at their undead adversaries.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:35:10 GMT -5
Shiera’s screams echoed throughout the halls of the ruined villa. Hawkman followed the sound of them downward, passed the baths and below the wine cellars. And then they were abruptly cut off by the {clang} of a big metallic door being swung shut. He saw it up ahead as he rounded a corner, bolted into a wall.
Hastor had Shiera behind that door, and there was no telling what he would do to her!
Fueled by desperation, he cocked his fist back, and hurled a hammer blow at the door, the Claw of Horus sparking against the metal! The steel door was knocked inward off its hinges, falling to the floor with a resounding crash. He burst into the room, but was brought to a halt by the sight before him.
Hastor’s hidden lair was part dungeon, and part scientific laboratory. A black marble statue of the jackal god Anubis stood guard in one corner, next to tables of beakers and glass tubing in which boiled foul-smelling concoctions, and one whole wall was devoted to a bank of consoles of switches and flashing lights. The largest thing in the room was an odd contraption with hundreds of wires leading into it, comprised of twisting copper coils. A faint hum was coming from it, and the thick copper coils fairly pulsed with power.
Hastor was in the middle of the room, in front of the contraption, holding Shiera at his side, a pistol pointed at her temple. She looked terrified and furious at the same time.
“Another step and I’ll paint the walls with her brains.” Hastor glowered at Hawkman. He pulled the hammer back with his thumb.
Hawkman held up his empty hands.
“Give it up, Hastor. It’s over. Give her to me, and we’ll go our separate ways. We don’t have to be tied to this fate. Break the cycle! I will foreswear revenge, if you will!”
Hastor’s lip twisted and curled.
“Do you expect me to believe that, hawk-man, champion of justice?” He sneered. “What kind of fool do you take me for? The only way I can be free of you is to kill you! Besides, I am the aggrieved party here! You stole her from me!” He wailed, spittle flying from his mouth. “Your hubris brought ruin to Egypt, but they called you a hero and loved you! While I was scorned and looked upon with derision!” As quickly as he lost it, Hastor regained his calculating control. “But you are right about one thing, hawk-man: it is over! Do you see the device behind me?” He motioned with his eyes to the huge contraption with the thick copper coils. “I call it the Magna-tron. It is the fruit of years of scientific labor. It is a nearly limitless source of power--- but it lacks one last crucial element to sustain it.” His eyes went hungrily to the hawk-shaped amulets on Carter’s chest.
“Nth Metal…” Hawkman finished for him.
“Yes.” Snapped Hastor. “That strange alien material from Thanagar we are both so familiar with. It is my destiny to control it! So kindly remove those amulets and place them on the floor.”
When Hawkman hesitated, Hastor twisted the gun barrel against the side of Shiera’s head.
“Alright, damnit!” Hawkman cursed, pulling the chains from around his neck and letting them fall to the dusty floor.
Hastor’s eyes glowed in triumph.
“Now, kick them towards me.”
Hawkman, unmasked since Hastor’s initial attack with the incense brazier, let his eyes flick over to Shiera. She met his gaze evenly, and wordless communication, born of a bond that was older than recorded history, passed between them. She understood. And she was ready. His shoulders slumped, as if in defeat, Hawkman kicked the amulets across the floor to Hastor. The madman bent quickly to retrieve them---.
And was met by Shiera’s elbow driving into his face!
His head was flung back by the blow, blood spraying from a broken nose, but he did not lose his grip on the gun. Shiera threw herself out of the way, even as Hastor recovered, aiming for her.
Hawkman had not been lax. He was too far away to reach them, so he did the only thing he could. In one fluid motion, he whipped the Nth Metal knife from out of his belt behind him, and hurled it across the room at Hastor!
The knife spun end over end and struck the wrist of the hand that held the gun, knocking it back as the shot went wide, pinning Hastor’s arm to a coil of the contraption behind him.
There was a sharp retort and a crackle of energy. Hastor screamed, pinned to his device and seized in an involuntary dance as electricity sparked through his body, singeing his body-hair and eyebrows. The Magna-tron sizzled and sparked, leading its creator in a macabre jig. Blue smoke steamed from Hastor, and the room was filled with the sound of his agonized screams and the smell of ozone.
Trails of electricity snaked across the consoles that lined one wall of the lair, and bits of it began exploding outward. Dozens of little fires were already raging across the room.
“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!” Hawkman yelled to her as he pulled Shiera from the floor. As they rushed from the lair, Shiera scooped up the amulets from the floor.
Behind them came a long wailing shriek, and then, a moment later, an explosion. The ground shook, nearly upsetting them as they raced upwards. But the death-throes of the Magna-tron were not complete. A fire ball was raging up the corridor after them!
Hand in hand, Carter and Shiera ran, the amulet’s dangling from her clenched fist. Up ahead was the opening, but the blossoming fireball was scorching them from behind.
“Hang on!” Carter yelled, gathering her close to her.
They burst from the corridor and out into the open, rocketing into the air, Carter’s wing’s unfolding to give them loft, flames licking at their heels and singeing his pinfeathers! They spiraled up into the sky of the Egyptian dawn, the Nth Metal amulets clutched between them, their faces close, even as the crumbling villa faded into the distance below them.
They spoke each other’s names at the same time, and before either could think about it, were engaged in a desperate, passionate kiss. On the horizon behind them, the sun was rising. Framed by the disc of Ra, the lovers held each other for a long time, their cheeks wet with commingling tears, surrendering, if only for the moment, to their joy at being alive and in each other’s arms.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:35:40 GMT -5
After his confrontation with Moldoff, but before he headed to the villa, Carter had gone to Shepards, and discovering Shiera missing in the middle of the night, roused Speed and alerted the young man to the danger. Speed had watched the hawk-masked, winged man fly off into the night, and he rubbed his eyes, wondering if he had just had a hallucination--- but after finding Shiera’s empty room, he headed straight for the Egyptian police, just as Hawkman had instructed him. So it was that trucks of local police, sirens blaring and lights flashing, poured into the compound of the ruined Roman villa, to find Cave and Professor Rock fending off a mob in tattered black robes.
“Cave!” Speed called form the jump seat of a police truck, recognizing the Sons of Anubis from his own harrowing encounter with them earlier that night.
Perhaps it was the lights of the police vehicles, or maybe it was the rays of the rising sun, but the undead creatures suddenly lost their taste for the fight. With shrieks to shrivel the spine, they fled before they newcomers, melting out into the desert.
“Cave, where the blazes is Shiera---!” Speed jumped out of the still moving truck, running towards his friend, just as a subterranean explosion made the ground shake. It was a long speechless moment before everyone regained their balance, and Cave was staring at the villa in growing horror.
“My god, was she in there?” Speed demanded, as the ancient Roman structure began to collapse upon itself.
They were all looking as the two figures burst from the entrance and shot into the sky, a ball of fire exploding out after them.
Speed and James Rock raised their fists in the air in raucous cheers, but Cave only had eyes for the two intertwined figures, ascending higher and higher over the earth and into the light of the rising sun.
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Post by Admin on Nov 15, 2005 22:36:52 GMT -5
The H.M.S. Prince Albert, Port of Alexandria, Egypt, Two weeks later…
The brim of his hat shaded most of the sun from his eyes, but Carter Hall still had to squint at the figures coming up the gangplank towards him. She was radiant, in a yellow sundress and a wide brimmed hat of her own, and Speed was at her side, carrying their luggage. Carter’s breath caught in his throat, as it never failed to do when he caught sight of her. And he had looked upon her very little since that night at the villa outside of Cairo, two weeks ago. He did not care to be reminded of what he could not have.
“Ms. Saunders!” He met them at the top of the gangplank, just as a horn blew, signaling the imminent departure of the ship. “What are you doing here? Where’s Cave?”
She was able to smile when she saw him, but he could tell she was troubled. He took her by the hand, guiding them through the press of people waving goodbye to their friends and families still on the dock, and led them to the less crowded other side of the deck. Speed excused himself, and went to go find their cabin. Carter and Shiera stood by the rail and faced each other uncertainly.
She was the first to break the silence.
“I visited the dig at Wadi Erdu last week. It is quite a find. Professor Rock is the center of attention, but I think he wanted to share the limelight with you.” She smiled faintly.
Carter shook his head. “Nonsense. Jim deserves the credit on this one.” He said firmly. “Besides, I know everything I need to know about Khufu…” He trailed off uncomfortably. “I mean, this whole experience---.”
“It’s all right, Carter. I know what you mean.” She wore a perplexed expression, her nose crinkling. “One day I’m Shiera Saunders, aspiring singer, and the next I’m… someone else, as well.” She finished, shaking her head. “I still am who I always was, but now I have all these other memories, too. I’m just as much Chay-Ara, as Shiera, and that’s…”
“Confusing?” Carter suggested, sympathetically; he was having the same feelings.
“Complicated, I was about to say.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Because, whether I call myself Chay-Ara or Shiera, I’m still the same person, and part of that person is, well, here.” She boldly put her small hand on his chest, over his heart, which he felt skip a beat. She looked up at him with liquidy eyes and went on bravely. “I think I knew it from that first night at the hotel ballroom. I felt like I had found something I never knew I had been looking for all my life.”
Carter clasped the tiny hand to his breast, for too brief a moment, then gently lowered it to her side.
“I know. I felt the same way. But Shiera, we can’t. Cave---.”
“Cave left me.” She interjected, with some difficulty. “Last week. He’s no fool, Carter. He didn’t understand most of what he heard that night at the villa, but he heard and saw enough. He said he couldn’t stand between us, but he couldn’t stand by us, either. He went back to Ethiopia.”
“Oh.” Carter blinked, shamed by- and in awe of- the nobility of his oldest friend. He hung his head in respect, but could not resist the surge of hope swelling within him. “What will you do?”
Shiera swallowed, gazing at him steadily. “Cyril and I are going to England. We have family there. We’re going to stay with them for a little while before returning to America.” She was suddenly overcome by a fit of shyness, and looked away, her cheeks reddening. In a quieter voice she added: “I was hoping that you, that is if you have no other pressing business, might be interested in a holiday as well…?”
She dared a sidelong glance up at him. He wore a stunned expression, but recovered quickly, clearing his throat.
“Yes, actually, I think a vacation is in order.” He admitted, as relief washed over Shiera’s face.
She sidled closer to him, and he put a tentative arm around her shoulders. The ship’s horn blew again, and the H.M.S. Prince Albert began moving ponderously away from dock.
“And what about that other fellow?” Shiera wondered mischievously. “The one the papers are calling the Hawkman? Is he on vacation, too?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Carter adjusted his hat, and blew out a thoughtful breath. “I imagine we’ll see him again before too long. After all, who is Carter Hall to defy a proud and ancient tradition?”
The two of them settled into a companionable silence and watched as the shores of Egypt faded into the distance.
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Post by Admin on Jul 28, 2011 2:10:45 GMT -5
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