Chapter 1 Introducing... Captain Democracy!

This story takes place in the summer of 1956. Red Rocket and Tom Atomic have met and worked with some of the other major heroes of the time (including Shiva and Kali, and Master Man), and have become pretty well known in their own right. The world has pretty much given up on the quick return of the Marvel Family and other heroes who were caught in the Suspendium trap.

Buoyed by his successes at the Dewey, Ketchum and Howe Detective Agency, Tomas Thomson (Tom Atomic) has convinced his good friend Todd Drake (Red Rocket) and his ex-secretary, Bonnie Marlow, to be partners in the DMT Agency. Tomas and Bonnie are the primary investigators, while Todd does a lot of forensic work. When Ketchum and Howe retired in 1955, DMT purchased the assets of DKH and took over the same offices. They are arguably the best detective agency in Chicago.

Being private investigators gives Todd and Tomas the freedom they need to operate as super heroes, and Red Rocket and Tom Atomic are sometimes able to deal with situations that Bonnie, Todd and Tomas are unable to handle as PIs. Todd and Bonnie got married in late 1954, and in 1955 they had a son, Jack.

Enough background. On to the story!

Two armed men were holding up the downtown branch of the First Bank of Illinois, and they weren't fooling around, either. They shot one of the guards without warning, and they had also shot a customer who had tried to run away. Right now, everyone but one teller was lying on the floor, and she was busy stuffing money into a bag. Suddenly the door of the bank flew open and a multi-colored disk the size of a manhole cover flew into the bank, striking one of the robbers in the wrist with an audible crack. He immediately dropped his gun and started screaming in pain! The other immediately blasted a half dozen shots through the door, which by now had swung closed again. He had then picked up his buddy's gun before anyone else could do anything.

"Shut up, Jake, or I'll have to shoot you, too!" He reached over the partition, viciously hit the teller in the side of the head with his gun, knocking her out, and grabbed the bag. "Time to go!" The screaming bandit apparently realized that his partner meant what he said, for he stopped screaming, but whenever he tried to move he mewled in pain. His partner headed for the door, ignoring him.

A dynamic figure dressed in red, white and blue charged through the door, hit the floor and rolled, surprising the thug who was unable to get a bead on him. The hero picked up the disk, and jumped straight at the thug with the gun, holding the disk like a shield between them. The shield smashed into the man's arm before he could fire, and the impact knocked the thug off his feet. He crashed into a wall and slid down to a sitting position on the floor. He shook his head dizzily...

"Damn!" he complained loudly, to no one in particular. "It's one of them long underwear guys! The Boss told us he'd take care of all dem guys!"

"Looks like you oughtta find another job!" The hero snapped a kick to his jaw, knocking the bandit unconscious.

A very loud deep, commanding voice could be heard outside, speaking an unknown (and very guttural!) language. "Ghxnog hhtygv aakwka ppifoi xuvalu!"

In response, the door of the bank exploded inwards, showering the interior of the room with flying fragments of wood. Almost everyone in the room was peppered with slivers, but they were so small that no one was seriously hurt. Following the exploding door, a man in a costume swaggered through the gaping opening.

Tall, dark, wearing a black coat and tails, with a black top hat. Slick black hair and a Fu-Manchu style beard and mustache. He was carrying a cane or wand, made of a dark, highly-polished wood banded with gold. The wand was topped with a golden skull slightly smaller than a tennis ball. In his deep sonorous voice, he spoke again, pointing the wand in the direction of the thug who had just been knocked unconscious.

"Gnuhht ygnagu kxekly lwnopu xuvalu!"

The unconscious man vanished in a burst of oily flame. A sickening smell filled the room.

During the time it took the magician to speak that spell, the costumed hero had recovered. He threw his shield at his opponent, and then rushed towards him. Strangely enough, he made a strange noise when he moved - sort of a ringing rustling, perhaps like the sound of a steel chain being dragged across a concrete floor. The wizard held up his wand and commanded:

"Ghgtyu nvgham xuvalu!"

The shield stopped flying through the air and then dropped to floor, clanging. The wizard then quickly turned to the charging man, waving the wand and chanting another incantation

"Ghewwo ykgany vywiol vghamh tygpol xuvalu!"

and the hero stopped in his tracks. The air around him seemed to have turned solid!

Another wave of the wand, another incantation,

"Ghewwh eklhty gpolyl hapygh xuvalu!"

and the wounded man dissolved into mist, followed by another incantation.

"Paluix oswnio whukpu xuvalu!"

which caused the money bag to float up off of the floor. For the first time, the wizard spoke in English. He pointed at one of the bank officers.

"When the police arrive, be sure to tell them that Wizzo has returned, and I am more dangerous than ever! I leave this hapless, hopeless hero alive as a warning to all heroes - but I will not be as merciful to the next hero who tries to interfere with me or my minions." He again waved the wand, and another powerful incantation shook the air.

"Folvnu hpuwni xuvalu!"

He lifted gently from the floor and floated slowly towards the door of the bank and the bag of cash floated after him. Just before he passed through to the street he made one more incantation.

"Goykmk ahuzhp uwkapx ennuhg xuvalu!"

The air around him seemed to swirl, blurring his figure somewhat.

As he floated out the door, a police squad car pulled up in front of the bank, and two officers leapt from the car and started shooting. Something in the swirling air deflected their bullets, and the wizard flew serenely away. He must have felt the need to leave a greeting card, though, because he turned and pointed the wand at the squad car.

"Ghewws oganyl uholru bmnavu xuvalu!"

The squad car exploded, and burning debris flew through the air, burning both officers, even though they had hidden behind other cars. Fortunately the rest of the street was empty, as all the spectators had found hiding places when the shooting started.

"Ghewdo lygtpu ylgmuz hozeno kghinu xuvalu!"

A tremendous explosion occurred in the air exactly where Wizzo had been flying. The only observer who happened to be looking directly at him swore he disappeared an instant before the explosion. But it was over a month before his vision returned, so no one was really certain what actually had happened. It seemed unlikely that the wizard had blown himself to smithereens... and in fact, within a day he had appeared again.

The bank was a couple of miles from DMT, but the explosion when Wizzo vanished was loud enough that Todd, who was doing forensic work in the laboratory while Tomas worked a case, was alerted. He changed into Red Rocket and was out the back window in seconds. It took him about 4 minutes to reach the disaster site. Much of that time was spent flying high enough to spot the smoke from the burning squad car. Red Rocket was on the radio the whole time, talking to a police dispatcher, and as soon as he saw the scene he requested an ambulance.

Rocket flew into the bank and saw a red, white and blue costumed man performing first aid on a wounded bank guard. A customer was bleeding from a leg wound, and Todd quickly helped another bank guard put a tourniquet on the leg, then prayed that the ambulance would arrive in time to save the wounded.

Rocket and the other costumed hero did all the could for the wounded in the bank, and then went to see what they could do for the burned cops on the street. Though it seemed like ages, more police and the ambulance arrived inside of 10 minutes.

The only lost lives were the 2 original bank robbers, who had been murdered by their boss, apparently for botching the robbery. Rocket shuddered; he had never before encountered such a vicious villain. He told his story a half dozen times to half a dozen different homicide detectives, and they left him alone. They had also finished interrogating the other hero, so Rocket walked over to talk to him.

"I'm Red Rocket. I've never seen you around before?" and stuck out his hand.

"I'm a big fan of yours, Rocket! This was my first time out, and it sure didn't work out the way I'd hoped. My name is Captain Democracy."

Chapter 2

"Captain Democracy, huh? Unique name. Nice to meet you." Red Rocket started to say something else but the Captain cut him off.

"How do you stand talking to idiots like that?" His sweeping gesture clearly included the whole homicide investigation team. Rocket was watching him closely.

"Why, they're only doing their jobs, Captain." Once again he was about to say more and once again, he was cut off...

"Well, lets you and me do _our_ jobs and go catch that murdering monster! He might be killing someone else right now!"

Rocket asked him quietly "Why are you so sure he murdered anyone?"

"What are you, crazy? I saw it with my own two eyes. That maniac murdered his own partners! Right in front of me and everyone in the bank!"

Rocket walked towards the puddle left when Jake had apparently evaporated into mist.

"I know it looks that way, but why did he leave you alive?" Captain D was about to interrupt again, but Rocket held up his hand. "I heard what he said, about you being a message to the rest of us super heroes. But why not kill you instead? Or better yet, why not cripple you for life? He seems to have had the power to do that... wouldn't that be a more potent warning?"

Before the other hero could answer that, Rocket continued "He chanted and waved his wand to 'murder' those two, didn't he? And they vanished spectacularly, right?" Cap'n D nodded. "Well, did you hear the story of how Wizzo vanished? He chanted and waved his wand and vanished in a spectacular explosion. Do you think he blew himself up?" This time the Captain shook his head. Rocket was not quite finished speaking. "I admit I think he probably killed those two thugs, too - but I'm not ready to jump to conclusions yet."

Captain Democracy picked up his shield and shrugged his shoulders into straps that allowed him to carry it backpack style. Once again Red Rocket watched him closely, then shrugged himself and turned back to the crime scene.

Red Rocket pulled a camera from his utility belt and began taking photos of the scene. He carefully examined the wet spot on the floor that was all that remained of the unfortunate Jake. He made use of the super vision powers built into his goggles, viewing the remains in visible light, infrared and ultraviolet, using his microscopic vision at highest magnification. Captain Democracy was getting itchy again.

"Say, Rocket, what's there to look at? Magic turned this guy to mist, right? Did you find anything useful?"

"Only that this water really seems to be water. I can't detect anything about it that is magical. Of course, that's not unusual with magic."

One of the police investigators had noticed the two of them examining the area and he walked over to them. He had interviewed both heroes earlier. "Mr. err... Democracy... I'm afraid you are going to have to leave the area now. It's a crime scene and we're declaring it off limits to everyone not on official business."

The Captain was clearly irritated by this request, and he was about to say something, but this time, he was interrupted by Red Rocket. "It's OK, Tony, he's with me. We'll let you know if we spot anything important."

Homicide Detective Tony Spinelli looked at Captain Democracy, and then at Red Rocket. He seemed just about ready to make an issue of the whole thing. Truth be told, though he and Red Rocket had always gotten along pretty well when they happened to come into contact on occasions similar to this, this new guy had really rubbed him the wrong way during their earlier interview.

He would have loved to toss the guy out on his can. And he could tell that the 'hero' was spoiling for a fight himself. Spinelli wasn't real worried about a fight. He could handle himself, and he wasn't afraid of this cocky youngster just because he had a costume on. But he was on official police business, and he wasn't paid for beating up punks.

"OK, Red. He can stay. But you keep an eye on him; I don't want him making any rookie mistakes like stepping on the evidence." He turned and went back to his investigation.

Captain Democracy quickly looked at the floor to make sure he wasn't stepping on anything, and then said something under his breath. Red Rocket's helmet granted him enhanced hearing, and he heard what the other hero said. It was a very unpleasant comment on Spinelli's background. His eyes narrowed in anger - Spinelli was a good cop and a good man. He was close to the edge of his tolerance for this newcomer.

Red Rocket stepped over to the charred mess on the rug that was all that was left of the other thug, and repeated his earlier examination, taking a couple of samples of the charred remains using vials from his utility belt. Captain Democracy watched him in silence for a few minutes, and then spoke up again.

"You're a pretty smart guy, Rocket. But I don't understand why you wear a red outfit and use the name Red Rocket. Do you want everyone to think you're a Commie?"

RR was thoroughly engrossed in his examination, and didn't really hear the words, and sort of nodded his head casually. All of a sudden, though, the meaning of Captain Democracy's words came through, and he jerked his head up and stared at the man. He decided to be amused rather than annoyed.

"A red costume means I'm a communist? I hope you're kidding!" There was incredulity in his voice. "Where did you come up with that? I thought we'd gotten past McCarthyism by now! Not that it is any of your business, but I wear a red costume to honor my mentors, Bulletman and Bulletgirl. And in case you didn't notice, Captain Marvel wore a red costume as well! And, by the way, there's a lot of red in your own costume, too."

"Yes, well, in case YOU haven't noticed, we are still facing the Commie threat, and your precious 'heroes' aren't around to help out, are they? Do you think that's a coincidence? And, my costume is red, white and blue, the colors of the American flag - not red and yellow, the colors..."

Rocket interrupted quickly before this jerk could say something Red couldn't ignore.

"I don't usually give free advice, but most people don't manage to piss me off like you do. So here's some free advice. First, you need to learn to respect people - all people, even people who are different than you. Second, I don't know what you were thinking, making your costume of chain mail? Man, it slows you down, it's so loud no one will ever be surprised when you show up, and it sure won't stop a bullet. Won't even stop an arrow or a knife, for that matter. Finally, I don't know what that shield is made of, but unless it's solid steel, don't expect it to stop any bullets. And the way you carry it around, it's too light to be steel."

He knew for sure it wasn't steel - he had aimed a quick magnetic beam at it, without effect.

"I think you've been hanging around with that half-breed Tom Atomic too long, and you've forgotten what it's like to be a real American - if you ever knew!" Captain Democracy spat the words at Red Rocket, contempt in his voice. He didn't realize yet that he had just stepped over a line. Or how far...

But he found out in a hurry! Rocket used his gravity regulator to defocus the gravity beneath Captain Democracy, artificially lowering his weight and then grabbed his belt, picked him up and shoved him against the wall, hard! His actions were instantly noted by the homicide squad around them, and they all stepped away and drew their pistols.

Chapter 3

"I'm not quite sure why you were a 'big fan' of mine. You obviously don't know what I stand for. Maybe it was just that I got to beat up the bad guys? Well, there is more to being a hero than fighting!"

He looked around at the circle of cops with drawn guns, then looked back at the Captain. "I've got a little bit more free advice, jackass. Get out of the hero business RIGHT NOW! Sooner or later, you're going to be in a bad situation where you need a friend or an ally to bail you out. Take a look around you. Any man in this room might someday be in the position to save your life. Yet look where their guns are pointing... it sure ain't me! Does that make you feel warm and happy inside? Do you think I'll come running with a smile on my face after you've insulted not only me, but my partner?"

Rocket turned to the police. "It's OK, Tony. Mr. Flag here was just leaving, eh, Mr. Flag?"

Anger played across the rookie hero's face, and resentment flared in his eyes. He opened his mouth to make a caustic retort, but Red Rocket pushed him a little harder against the wall. Rocket didn't have superhuman strength like Tom Atomic, but he was pretty strong for a normal human, and right now he had leverage. CapD was starting to have a little trouble breathing, and finally he nodded his head - just barely.

Red Rocket realized he might have made a new enemy, but he didn't really care at this point. He hoped the rookie would get out of the biz, but only time would tell. He released Captain Democracy, who stalked out the door without another word.

Spinelli walked over to talk to him. "I think you ought to watch out for him, Red. He could turn out to be a bad one!"

"Thanks, Tony, I'll keep an eye out. Find out anything new?"

"They've put together sketches of the two dead guys and Wizzo. Jackie just brought me some copies." He showed Rocket three sketches. The murdered men seemed to be two pretty average guys; RR had never seen either one before, that he could remember.

"Got any extras? Might be Atomic and I can find out somethin'. We'll be looking for that Wizzo fella, too."

Tony smiled. "Thought so. Tell you what, you tell me what you found out and you can keep those two."

"No left over trace of magic, but then, I've never been able to detect magic, so it doesn't mean much. Far as I can tell, the water is water, and that pile of ashes is a pile of ashes. No bones left, which usually means really hot. But no scorches on the rug. Seems to add up to magic, to me. Nothing else but questions. Wanna hear 'em?"

He and Tony stood there and traded questions. Tony had come up with a few that Red Rocket hadn't thought of yet. "Why would a guy with that kind of power send lackeys to rob a bank? Better yet, why does he need to rob banks anyway?" Both men had been in the biz long enough to know there was often no good answer to either of these questions. They usually felt lucky if they could solve the case and capture the bad guy; if any of their questions were answered, they considered it a bonus.

A couple of hours later, back in his lab, Todd Drake puzzled over the results from his analysis of the samples he had taken. The water was water, nothing unusual as far as he could tell. The ash was organic, to be sure, but there was nothing in it that he could say for certain had come from a human. But nothing he could say for certain didn't come from a human. His earlier suggestion that there really hadn't been any murders today had been almost rhetorical, but he was seriously considering it now.

Bonnie, Todd and Tomas always tried to get together once a day, usually just before they quit for the day, to discus their cases. Tomas had called in to say he would be dropping by about 5 before he headed home (he still lived in Calumet). Dewey had lived on the third floor of the building for several years, and after DMT had purchased the building, Bonnie and Todd had redecorated that floor and now called it home. They invited Tomas up for dinner.

Little Jack, as usual, was thrilled to see his 'Unca Tomas', and he and Bonnie played with Jack while Todd prepared dinner. Bonnie wasn't working on a case now, and Tomas had just started his case, so they soon turned the discussion to Wizzo. Even with his perfect memory, Tomas couldn't remember much about the villainous wizard. He'd fought Captain Marvel, but hadn't made much of an impression on Marvel or anyone else. Todd was pretty sure he remembered that Wizzo had not appeared to be as powerful the last time he had made news as he seemed to be today.

They discussed the police reports and Todd reported all the talk he had heard at the crime scene. They were each and all unwilling to come to any conclusions; too little information. Tomas summed up their general impressions of Wizzo based on what they _did_ know.

"Type B villainous wizard, uses a wand as a focus for his spells and possibly as a storage device for his magical power, spells include a vocal component (chanting in an unknown mystical language) and a gestural component. Likes to show off with flashy effects. Spells used indicate moderate to strong magical power, but he could be concealing his real power level, so don't make any assumptions. Has not shown an affinity for a single 'type' of magic; for instance, he doesn't seem to specialize in 'Fire' magic - although all of his spells might be considered 'elemental magic' - they included control over fire, water and air."

"Standard tactics against Type B - disrupt his chants, don't stay in the same place long enough to make an easy target, get the wand away from him, and be cautious even when he doesn't have the wand, some Type Bs can cast spells without the aid of their wands."

"So," Tomas continued "do you want any help?" Tomas made the offer because he felt obligated to, but Todd could see that his main interest was really in his current case.

"Keep your receiver turned on. If it looks like the spit is about to hit the fan, I'll give you a shout."

The talk turned to Captain Democracy. Once again Tomas summed up what they knew of him. "Type A heroic athlete, possible training in martial arts, artificially enhanced resistance to damage, uses a shield as both a weapon and a defense. Strengths unknown, weaknesses, reduced speed, agility and stealth, inexperience and a bad attitude."

Bonnie was intrigued by the new hero. "When you took pictures, did you take any of him? I think I'll see if I can find out anything else about him." Todd got up to go to the darkroom and develop his pictures, but Bonnie volunteered instead. "How about you put Jack to bed tonight? I need some time to myself!" Tomas headed for home, Bonnie developed film, and Todd put Jack to bed, without too much trouble, although he jabbed his finger on one of the safety pins while changing Jack's diapers. At least it wasn't Jack that got stabbed!

The next day, Todd picked up their once-a-week nanny, and he wrapped up his current case. The lab work he had done yesterday resolved the case, and he was free again by noon. Bonnie was doing some research in the library, looking through recent stories in the Chicago papers. Todd hung a 'Back At' sign on the office door, set the clock hands to indicate 3 o'clock, and Red Rocket took to the skies.

As always in a city as big as Chicago, there were many situations in which Red Rocket could have intervened. He had learned early in his career that he could not possibly intervene in every situation, and sometimes his hardest decisions were not to help. Rocket didn't want anyone to become dependent on his assistance.

Today he was looking for Wizzo. He stopped a couple of muggings, rescued a cat from a tree to stop a little girl from crying, and managed to pull an elderly man from the path of a speeding car. The car swerved at the last second, too little, too late, but Rocket plucked the man from the street. He did not have time to prevent the car from going out of control, running over a fire hydrant (which ripped the car in half) and then crashing into the wall of a building. But he did call an ambulance (and the police), got the occupants out of the car and prevented the gas tank from exploding. And used his magnetic power to restore the fire hydrant, once the people were out of danger.

But he found out nothing about Wizzo. Nobody in town seemed to know him, and nobody admitted to recognizing the henchmen in the police sketches, either. Nobody was recruiting muscle right now, and nobody was spending loot from yesterday's bank heist. He was back in the office by 3, but no new clients showed up that afternoon. He hoped tomorrow would be a little more exciting.

Chapter 4

His case had led Tomas out of town, and Todd had nothing new to report, and Bonnie also said she hadn't made any progress, so the meeting that night was short. Jack went to sleep early, and Todd and Bonnie stayed up late, a luxury they were often unable to enjoy these days.

The next day they slept in as late as Jack let them. Bonnie dressed Jack and headed out to do some shopping, and Red Rocket went out searching for Wizzo again. He had a feeling he might have better luck today. Well, if you can call an encounter with a deadly bloodthirsty super villain 'better luck', anyway.

His luck began to turn when he heard a police bulletin on his helmet radio. A security guard at the Chicago Museum of Natural History had called the police and hysterically announced some kind of robbery and then the line had gone dead.

That was enough for Red Rocket! Immediately he was flashing toward the Museum at high speed, a red guided missile streaking across the Chicago sky.

When he reached the museum, he was stunned to see that it no longer appeared to have any doors or windows! Every external opening had disappeared and been replaced by solid stone, In fact, the new stone blended with the old so well it was impossible to tell exactly where the doors and windows had even been.

There was a large crowd of people outside and the crowd continued to grow. Rocket circled the building, and, finding no openings, flew up and landed on the roof. He had hoped, but not dared to expect, that doors to the roof would still be available - and he was correct. He didn't know if this was oversight or the villain's planned escape route, but right now it didn't matter. He used his disintegration tool to cut the tongue on the lock on one of the doors, and carefully entered the building.

He floated down the stairway rather than walking, so he wouldn't risk making noise or tripping. It was quite dark inside the museum - not only were there no windows, but all the electric lights had somehow vanished. Rocket switched through the various modes of vision his visor provided - infrared, amplified visible light and ultraviolet. Infrared with ultrasound sonar overlay gave him the best idea of his surroundings, and after a few minutes, he felt reasonably confident with his enhanced 'vision'. He wouldn't have wanted to try competition pistol shooting in this environment, but he wasn't going to overlook anything obvious, either.

He turned up the sensitivity of his hearing amplifiers as well. There was some kind of energetic activity going on from a lower floor in the building, so he cautiously followed the sounds to their source.

The museum had a big central room, several stories high, surrounded by balconies at each level. He came into the central chamber on the top level. He couldn't believe what was happening on the floor. A group of about 12 men, working quietly and in total darkness, were breaking down the floor exhibit, packing it into crates, and apparently getting it ready for shipment. They seemed to be able to see easily in total darkness. Once again Red Rocket cycled through his various vision powers, and he realized that the room was brightly lighted in the near ultraviolet spectrum. The light was coming from the walls and ceiling. So Rocket left his vision set to UV.

What was eerie was that all of the men below resembled almost exactly one or the other of the police artist's sketches of the murdered henchmen at the bank! They moved with greater speed and precision than normal humans, and based on the crates they were moving around, they had to be 3 or 4 times stronger than normal as well. If there was ever a time when he wanted and needed reinforcements, this would be it! But Tomas was well out of helmet radio range, and the police wouldn't be able to get to the roof in time to help him.

Wizzo himself was nowhere to be seen, although that meant little. He had showed up quickly enough last time when his minions had been interfered with.

No civilians seemed to be in any immediate danger, so he took a few moments to come up with a plan. If the men below were really human, he didn't want to end up killing them - but outnumbered a dozen to 1, with all of them faster and stronger than he was, he might have no alternative! He reviewed the capabilities of his costume and weighed alternate plans of action. He had pored over the suit with Todd until he knew all of its functionality intimately, and he had even added capabilities of his own design. He quickly came up with a battle plan.

First, Rocket reconfigured his ultra sonar to emit a much higher volume of ultrasound, and aimed it at the floor below. After a few minutes, he noticed some effect - the workers were stopping to scratch, and one of them dropped his end of a crate to clap his hands to his head. The worker at the other end screamed as the crate fell on his foot. He limped up to the first worker and punched him, hard. The others stopped working and gathered round to watch. A couple of them bumped into each other, and they too started fighting.

The ultra sonar was not designed for such a high power level, and after a few more minutes, several components failed. Rocket was ticked off - he had planned to make further use of ultrasound. But very few battle plans ever survive the first encounter with an enemy!

He would have to rebuild the system and make it more powerful and more flexible for the future. Meanwhile, the fighting continued for another 5 minutes or so. 4 of the workers had been knocked unconscious by their peers. None of them seemed to realize that they were under attack. One of the ones not involved in the fighting seemed to be sort of a foreman, and he had just started to bully them back to work when Rocket struck again.

He set his gauntlet searchlight for ultraviolet, adjust his visor to totally block UV and blasted the room with 8 million candlepower of UV light. When the flash was over, he saw that the remaining men appeared to be temporarily blinded, and as they were shouting and stumbling about, Rocket did a power dive amongst them. It hardly felt 'fair', slamming into blind opponents, but it was a successful tactic - he quickly knocked another 5 of them out. But he had to hit them harder than he had hoped - their resistance to damage seemed to be enhanced similarly to their strength and speed. The last 3 were recovering their sight, and suddenly he wasn't worried about 'fair' any longer!

As he rocketed towards one of the remaining thugs, the man suddenly stepped out of his way and hammered a two-handed blow to his back. This drove Red Rocket down into the floor, and with his forward momentum he skidded across the floor and slammed into the base of a display case. His costume stiffened and distributed the impact, and instead of being seriously injured he was only stunned a little. One of the others started to push the massive display case over, but Rocket was able to roll out of the way and it crashed harmlessly to the floor.

In order to offset the others' speed advantage, Rocket took back to the air. Heavy things were thrown at him, but he could use his plasma thrower to slag them before they reached him. He noticed that one of the unconscious men was starting to move; he had to end this quick before he had all 12 to fight again!

He did another power dive at one of the villains. The man had just seen his buddy counter this kind of attack, so he stepped aside and prepared to slam Red Rocket as he flew by. But Rocket wasn't repeating his earlier attack - he pulled up short, aimed both hands at his opponent and fired at him with his new compressed air blasters. He couldn't use them often because they took a long time to 'charge', but they were very effective. The villain was slammed backwards as if by a gigantic super powerful fist, lifted off the ground and flew backwards into a display case - which shattered and cascaded down around his now-still figure.

Another of the bad guys had used Rocket's short pause to launch himself through the air, intent on grabbing Rocket and wrestling him to the ground. When he hit, the impact was enough to knock Rocket from his feet and the villain landed on top of him - unconscious. Rocket had generated an extremely powerful electric charge on the surface of his uniform (another new weapon, and the last one he will display in this story!) which knocked the man out on contact. Rocket's uniform once again distributed the impact. He was going to have bruises all over tomorrow morning, but he was still able to fight.

He was almost out of tricks, and there was still one opponent to go - and that opponent had apparently learned a lot from watching the fight so far. One of the Museum displays had been a reproduction of an early New England farm, complete with an actual stone fence - which was made up of medium sized stones carefully piled together. The bad guy (one of the Jake look-alikes) was ripping stones from the fence and throwing them at Rocket. He tried burning them with the plasma torch but there were too many of them coming too fast. His only option was to retreat into the air, where he could avoid many of them. But his opponent was smart, he would launch a barrage of a half dozen stones, aimed so that if Red Rocket dodged one, some of the others would hit him. He took some painful hits from these projectiles, but nothing critical.

Seeing that the moving man had finally managed to sit up, Rocket broke off his attempt to attack the rock-thrower, and zoomed at the top speed he could muster at the hapless villain - striking him in the chest with both fists and delivering another electrical charge at the same time. This shock was weaker than the last, because this weapon also took a while to recharge, but with the hammering fists of Red Rocket to back it up, the villain was knocked unconscious once more.

Rocket turned back to his other foe, but was unable to see him - or detect him via his ultra sonar. He switched to infravision and scanned the entire room, but was unable to see anything that indicated where his foe might be. Suddenly he had a terrible thought, and he quickly launched himself into the air. An extremely heavy display case smashed into his legs and sent him tumbling, head over heals. He smashed into the wall, and slid downwards, stunned. When his back was turned, his opponent had collapsed to the floor so he looked just like the other unconscious bad guys, and Red Rocket had overlooked him. As Rocket sat there, almost unable to move, his opponent approached him, wielding a sword he had grabbed from another display.

Red Rocket had no choice. His legs were numb and were temporarily not working, and he couldn't concentrate enough to fly. Hoping his theory of a couple of days ago was correct, he managed to arm his plasma thrower, and he blasted the remaining bad guy - instantly burning him to a crisp only a second before he would have skewered Red Rocket with the sword.

Rocket then concentrating on flying - he was pretty sure this room was just about to become even more dangerous that it had been when he arrived. He managed to lift into the air, and within a half second he was flying over the railing and into one of the hallways on the upper level, heading back for the stairs to the roof.

Behind him, he heard a faint 'poof' and then a voice, chanting.

"Gheak htnugg sanupg dolygt xuvalu!"

Wizzo the Wizard had appeared on the scene.

Chapter 5

Red Rocket flashed down the hallway towards the stairs. His plan had been to surprise Wizzo, rather than be surprised by him! By now he was too far away to hear the wizard chant his next spell:

"Ghenys thlyls wylvol vghkyr upiwau xuvalu"

but he certainly observed the results when he was struck from behind by a lightning bolt! This was not as damaging an attack as Wizzo might have hoped, however. All it did was finish recharging Rocket's own electrical weapon. In the main room, Wizzo was chanting again...

"Ghecoh okkoyg omolgi. Ghpyst hifylv gkuhek lpiulu pituku xuvalu!"

A mighty wind began to blow through the corridor towards the center of the museum. Red Rocket fought against it for a few seconds, but then he realized that he might be able to use Wizzo's own actions to catch him by surprise. He flew with the wind, and when he reached the big open central chamber, he increased his speed. His hope was that he would be able to reach Wizzo before the wizard could cast any more spells. As he flashed over the railing, he realized he was in luck - the wizard was standing in the middle of the floor, in what looked like the eye of a hurricane, and the wind was propelling Rocket directly at him. Rocket increased his speed even more. Wizzo saw him coming and tried to chant a spell, but he didn't have time to complete it...

"Ghgham..." Rocket hit him like a runaway freight train, and Wizzo lifted into the air and flew backwards. However, his velocity quickly decreased, and instead of striking the wall, he stopped and floated to the floor, landing gently on his feet. He had made no gestures or chants. Tomas was right in his earlier warning; Wizzo was more than a common Type B wizard (Wizard using a token or tokens to store/focus/release power). Many Type A wizards (Wizard not requiring a token) regularly used tokens to increase their powers; as such they were dangerous in both modes. Rocket reminded himself that virtually all wizards could also operate in 'C' mode (no real magic, uses stage magic, special effects and sleight of hand to produce effects that simulate magic) since they almost all learned stage magic before they learned true magic.

Before he landed, Wizzo was chanting again.

"Gheyna duwygt luhgha zrylsg. Ghewyv kohtuk wysthc ohollo. Skuohx onngaw wykuxe kghohp iupuli xuvalu!"

Great fireballs burst from his hands and flew towards Red Rocket. This hardly bothered him; he used his own plasma thrower and the two sources of flames met between the two opponents and both were stopped. Many of the crates and exhibits were starting to char and catch fire, and this seemed to bother Wizzo, because he cast a new spell.

"Ghewwo nnwyku gdolyg tonntu ohuvht ylsgxu zaanuv xuvalu!"

The fireballs and the plasma vanished, and all other flames in the room were snuffed out. This diversion gave Red Rocket time for an attack of his own - he used his magnetic controller to cause all the iron and steel in the room to be attracted to Wizzo. The smaller pieces of scrap started flying at him, while the larger pieces started sliding slowly in his direction.

"Ghewoy kmkahu zhpuwk apwniy lsqelr xuvalu!"

Wizzo commanded, and suddenly it seemed as if he was surrounded by an invisible cylinder. As the various pieces of magnetized junk smashed into this cylinder, they stuck, and within a few seconds, Wizzo was totally encased in an irregular column of iron and steel. Every wizard understands magnetism, and Wizzo knew what to do about this.

"Posluh ygpnag uyhggh kulsht xuvalu!"

Rocket's magnetic controller suddenly stopped working, and all the iron and steel that had been attracted to Wizzo suddenly fell to the ground. Wizzo took some incidental damage due to falling scraps that bounced and hit him, and he was now surrounded by a fairly high crater of jagged debris.

"Tuonpu xuvalu!"

Rocket could see Wizzo's wounds closing.

"Folvnu hpuwni xuvalu!"

Wizzo floated into the air. Rocket took a quick inventory. His magnetic controller was not working, his ultra sonar was not working, and his plasma thrower had quit. As far as he could tell, Wizzo was unfazed and unharmed. At this rate, he was going to be out of weapons and defenses soon. He had to be a lot smarter about this battle if he hoped to survive, much less win.

Wizzo wouldn't be working in Mode B unless it made him more powerful, so Rocket should really concentrate on getting his wand away from him. He wasn't quite sure how to do that. However, he could still fly, and he was willing to bet he was a better flyer than Wizzo. He took to the air. Wizzo pointed his wand with a quick chant: "Ghewxn oghtyp xuvalu!"

A bolt of energy flew from the end of the wand! Rocket swerved and easily avoided the burst. Wizzo tried again, same chant, same result. But this time, Rocket fought back.

He aimed his right arm at Wizzo, and tried a trick he had been practicing for quite a while. He flashed his visible light searchlight on and off, like an 8 million candlepower strobe light, and at the same time caused his goggles to compensate for the changing light, so his vision was not affected. The light was so intense that Wizzo was forced to turn his back and he still had to put his arm over his eyes, and even then the light was so intense that he was dazzled. Red Rocket flashed at him, and punched him, unleashing his electrical charge on contact, and Wizzo was smashed into unconsciousness! At the same instant, Rocket touching the wand must have triggered a safety spell, as both Wizzo and the wand vanished.

Red Rocket was left alone in the partially demolished main room of the Museum. There was no sign of the dozen men who had been looting the place, and nothing remained to show that Wizzo had ever been there either. He was awfully glad he was on good terms with the Chicago police, and that the police radio dispatcher had actually told him about this robbery, so they couldn't blame the whole thing on him! Even so, he was sure he was going to be explaining this adventure to many different investigators over the next few hours. He quickly placed a call to DMT's answering service to let Bonnie know he would probably be late for dinner.

Funny, he had expected the cops to be swarming through the museum by now! Then he realized that the doors and windows had been replaced by solid rock. Until they got a crane or a chopper or a really long ladder outside, he wasn't going to run into anybody. Swell, he would call Spinelli later with the whole story. Right now, he felt pretty beat up and he needed to fix the busted devices in his costume, so he flew out the rooftop door at top speed, and wended his way home.

Chapter 6

Bonnie and Jack had also had an interesting day. Bonnie was pleased that Todd and Tomas had not noticed her unusual interest in Captain Democracy the other night - she had almost given herself away then. She thought she might have a lead on this guy, and when she had developed Red Rocket's pictures, she was certain!

This morning, after Red Rocket had left, Bonnie headed down to the storage room in the basement. She left Jack outside of the room to protect him from dust, and she searched through several storage boxes of her stuff, finally finding the trunk she was looking for.

Bonnie was a pack rat who saved almost everything, and this trunk contained gifts and mementos she had received from prior boyfriends. She had originally been reluctant to show these things to Todd, but she was sure that by now Todd was secure enough in their love that seeing these things wouldn't bother him. But showing him all these mementos of her past wasn't what she had in mind right now - she needed to find a very specific item.

It was right there on top - a long shallow box with a hinged top. She opened the clasps and then opened the box. Inside was something wrapped in canvas that almost filled the box, and sitting on top of that was something that had been carefully wrapped in waxed paper. She put aside the item wrapped in paper and gently picked up the canvas. She removed it, revealing a rectangular item wrapped in cheesecloth. She pulled the cloth away to reveal an astounding painting!

Set in a simple wooden frame was a painting of a young woman, blonde, dressed in red, white and blue, fighting against a half dozen German soldiers. Bullets bounced from her voluptuous body as she flew towards them, wielding the turret of a German tank like a club, grasping it by the gun barrel. The wrecked tank was in the background, and it had clearly been torn apart by hand.

The heroine was wearing a cape, and the art was beautiful. And, most amazing of all, she looked exactly like Bonnie. There was a brass name plaque on the frame, which said "Miss Victory, circa 1943". Bonnie grinned - she knew Todd would love this! How could she have left it in storage for so long?

She carefully unwrapped the wax paper from the other item. Inside was a comic book named "The Adventures of Miss Victory" It was Volume 1, Issue 1, dated August 1941. The cover boasted "All In Color!" "4 Complete Stories" and the price was a nickle. It was obvious from a glance that this was not a low quality mass-produced magazine. The art was in the same style as the painting. It was hand-drawn, hand-lettered, hand-inked and hand-bound, and Bonnie knew there were no other 'Miss Victory' comics anywhere in the world.

Her mind drifted, back to the beautiful summer day in 1950 when she had received the painting and the comic book as a gift...

*****

'C'mon, Bonnie, let's go! Time's a wastin'!" Al, her current boyfriend, was 15 minutes early, but she had come to expect that from him. He was always early, always in a hurry. Fortunately today's outing wasn't one she had to dress up for - a street fair and art show over on the South Side.

Al was sitting in his car, a brand new Nash-Healey, revving the engine and enjoying the looks he got from her neighbors. Al thrived on being the center of attention. You can see a picture of his car here.

Bonnie had barely shut the door when Al burned rubber away from the curb. He tore around a corner and headed south, weaving through traffic, laughing at the people who honked at him when he cut them off, avoiding deadly collisions by inches. Bonnie screamed at him to slow down, and he did, immediately. "Sorry, darlin' - I thought you liked fast guys and faster cars!"

Bonnie was dismayed at this remark. Al had taken her dancing the other night, and they had both had a few extra drinks. Somehow, riding with a maniac driver was a lot more exciting after a few drinks. And the bit about fast guys? Well, they had been necking a little - well, maybe more than a little, she conceded! Bonnie was a gal who liked to take some risks - but she liked to be in control of herself, too, and suddenly she had realized that she was out of control.

Al had been a perfect gentleman, driven her home and kissed her chastely on the cheek at her door. She had spent the rest of the night worrying and wondering if he had been insulted, would he ever call her again, had she lost him by being a prude (her friends would have laughed about that one!), what would she do if he didn't call, what would she do if he did call, and wanted to pick up right where they had left off, what if he _didn't_ want to pick up there - until she finally realized that she was still a little drunk, and went to bed. How should she respond to this remark?

She decided to laugh about it. "Not today, Al! I want to dance in the sunshine and eat too much and maybe buy some paintings. And my friend Rick is the drummer in one of the bands that is playing today!" Al laughed with her, and the awkward moment passed.

The annual South Side Art Festival and Street Fair was an all-day event, and they arrived midway through the morning. They wandered through the booths for a couple of hours. The bought hot dogs and ate as they walked. At 2, the bands began to play, and Bonnie and Al danced for an hour or so. Then they headed for the booths again.

Al stopped at the dart throwing booth, and within minutes had popped a dozen balloons. The booth owner came up to them. "Hey, buddy, youse cleanin' me out! How about a deal, huh? You stop making with da darts and youse get your pick of da prizes - and den you go play some udder game. Whatta ya say?" Al picked a stuffed lioness, life sized, and immediately gave it to Bonnie. They decided to drop their accumulated off loot back at the car, so they headed to the lot, with Al carrying the lioness. But on the way they saw a booth that neither could pass by!

This booth was owned by a local artist. He seemed to have a flair for the fantastic - the booth was filled with exotic landscapes from other planets, futuristic cars and airplanes, monsters and men in space suits - all reminiscent of the covers of the 30's and 40s pulps, as well as magazines like Astounding Science Fiction. This guy was very good - looking at his pictures was like looking out a window onto another world! Most fantastic yet, on the back wall of the booth, mostly hidden from the street, were a series of 'action shots' - paintings that showed super heroes in action.

The artist, a tall skinny blonde noticed their interest. "I call this my 'Patriotic Captain Collection" he pointed out one series to them. "As you can see, all of these heroes are wrapped in the American Flag, so to speak."

And indeed they were. Each picture showed a sturdy man, dressed in a red, white and blue costume, fighting German or Japanese soldiers, or some other menace. All of the costumes were different, all of the men were different, and yet it was clear that all shared something, something more than the colors of the costume. Each painting had a name plate. Though it was hard for Bonnie to remember each and every name 6 years later, she remembered that the first painting had been of 'Captain America' and the rest of the paintings had been other captains with patriotic names. Such as, perhaps, Captain Patriot, Captain Flag, Captain Star...

*****

("And maybe", she thought, with that part of her mind that remained in the present "Captain Democracy?")

*****

The reason the first painting still stood out in Bonnie's mind was that on the table underneath it was a comic book. It was titled 'Captain America'.

Bonnie turned to the artist. "I don't recognize any of them." Each hero was depicted so realistically that he had to have been taken from real life, and yet, she had never heard of any of them.

"They're all imagination, Miss. My imagination. Variations on a theme, perhaps, or wish fulfillment. Many years ago, I was fortunate enough to paint a portrait of Minute Man. That's what inspired me. All of these paintings show American Super Soldiers fighting for their country as I was unable to do." She noticed sadness and longing tingeing his voice. And more than a little bitterness.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't understand" she was responding more to the tone of his voice than his words.

"Sorry, it was a long time ago, and I suppose I ought to be over it by now, but... my country was at war. Our armed forces desperately needed every warm body they could sign up. But they TURNED ME DOWN! Can you belive it? No one was more patriotic than I was; there wasn't anyone who wanted to fight more than I did. And THEY TURNED ME DOWN! So I've been making my living as an artist ever since."

Bonnie was a little uncomfortable with the man's anger. She touched the Captain America comic and changed the subject. "Who published this? Did you do the art?"

"Indeedy I did, Miss. But nobody published it, unless you count me. That's a one of a kind; there's nothing else like in anywhere else in the world. Take a look!"

Bonnie quickly realized this wasn't just another comic book! It had been created from scratch - the art was hand-drawn and hand-inked, and she could tell it had been hand-bound. She examined the cover again.

'Captain America Comics #1' she read. The cover showed 'Captain America' smashing Hitler with a right cross, and it promised 'The Secret Origin of Captain America' along with "4 Original Adventures in this issue!" She paged through it - most readers will know what she saw - a skinny blonde kid (who looked surprisingly like the artist himself!) classified 4F, given entry into a secret government Super Soldier program.

And yet, readers, the story was subtly different from the story we all know so well. This Cap had always used a round shield, and there was no mention of Bucky anywhere in the comic. You can see a similar, but not identical, cover here.

Bonnie was thrilled! "This is beautiful! Much better than any comic I've ever seen. Did you do this all yourself?" It was obvious he had, but Bonnie was hoping that telling her about the comic would help him forget his anger.

"Well, sorta. I drew it, lettered it, colored it and bound it. I sorta wrote it, too, but I can't claim all the credit. I think those are real folks, somewhere far away, and some magic lets me see them. I just close my eyes, and there they are, better than TV! All of them wearing a flag, all of 'em fighting the Germans and the Japanese in World War 2. Just like I painted 'em! Just like I would have done - if they'd let me" he boasted.

"I don't have comic books for all of 'em yet, but I'm a workin' on it. Course makin' a comic book takes a lot longer than the painting does."

Al had been examining another series of patriotic heroes. All of these pictures showed women, 'wrapped in the flag'. They were also fighting in World War II scenes. He had taken one picture off the wall, and examined it more closely. He seemed quite excited.

"Holy Mackerel, Bonnie! This one is YOU!"

*****

Readers' we've seen the painting once before - Miss Victory.

*****

The artist looked from Bonnie to the painting and back again. "Yup, sure looks like her. But I've never seen Bonnie, here, before. The lady in the picture is named Joan Wayne. I haven't written her story yet, but I know her better'n I know most of my friends."

The artist had tried to insist on giving the painting to Bonnie. Bonnie wouldn't take it; she couldn't afford to pay the asking price, and she refused to take any kind of discount. She was sort of hoping that Al would step up and buy it for her, but Al had vanished as soon as the discussion had reached money. Suddenly, the artist had come up with a solution. Bonnie traded him the stuffed lioness for the painting, even up. They shook hands, introduced themselves, both parties professed how pleased they were, and parted ways.

She had anticipated that Al would want a repeat of the other night, but when Bonnie told him about the trade, he said quietly "That's great!", and drove her straight home - quickly and safely. He walked her to the door, kissed her, got back in the car. He squealed tires pulling away from the curb, and out of her life. 6 years later, she had never heard from him again.

But she had received one further surprise. About a month later, a small package had arrived for her in the mail. There was no return address, no card, no way to identify who sent it or where it had come from. Inside was, of course, a comic book - Volume 1, Issue 1 of 'The Adventures of Miss Victory'.

*****

Bonnie's mind hopped back to 1956. She had hoped that seeing the painting and the comic book would help her remember the artist's name, but she was still drawing a blank. Well, she was going to find out, today! Her intuition was telling her, yelling at her, actually, that this mysterious artist was somehow connected with Captain Democracy!

Chapter 7

Bonnie had been sure that finding this picture would jar her memory, but so far, nothing. She closed the trunk and took the painting, comic and Jack back upstairs. She and Todd had a 'wall of fame' where they kept their favorite family pictures, and she added this painting to that wall of fame. Wonder how long it would be until Todd noticed?

She remembered that the mystery artist had told her he never signed his work, but he always managed to put his initials and the date of the painting somewhere in the picture. The burning tank had a serial number painted on the side, GG 1247. Ah, yes, Grant something or other, also starts with a 'G'. Yes, that ought to make it much easier.

The next step of her investigation led her to... the Yellow Pages? Sure, it might save her a lot of legwork, to let 'her fingers do the walking'. She searched through various categories such as 'Artists', 'Art Schools' and 'Art Studios' and found 4 that looked like they would be worth investigating