Written by Jeff Pierce using the Disadvantages enhancement and World vs. Hero solitaire rules; illustration by Adam Otero


THE WORLD
Genre: Victorian Superheroic Adventure
Setting: A great city in the United States, circa 1915

The City, like the country as a whole in the early twentieth century, is dynamically changing. New technologies, new consumer goods, and new opportunities for people to enjoy life...and new problems for them to confront. Immigrants still arrive in their teeming thousands, living in slums and desperate for work, which leaves them all too vulnerable to exploitation by their employers. Bigotry and prejudice remain widespread. The alliance between politics and industry has grown too close, too corrupt, and is starting to eat away at the very foundations of democracy itself. Labor unrest and political radicalism, though less widespread than in earlier decades, is still very much present. Criminals prey upon the poor and weak. Abroad, the Great War rages, with European governments seeking to either bring America into it or to keep it out, and spies and foreign agents use the City as a base for their covert operations.

And there lurks another, undetected and unsuspected danger that threatens the City and its people: Master villains who seek fortune, or power, or chaos for its own sake. Despite the efforts of the police, well-meaning reformers, and honest officials, it occasionally looks as if the whole City might fall apart.

But hope remains, appearing in an unlikely form: Costumed crimefighters, heroes with amazing powers and abilities who have taken it upon themselves, for their own reasons, to combat the evils of their rapidly changing society, maintain justice, law, and order, and point the way to a better world to come. But the challenge is great, and few of them realize just how much it might cost them in the end....



ADVENTURE PREMISE
Nick Cannon, special agent for the United States Secret Service, has spent the past several months in Germany operating out of the American Embassy in Berlin. His mission: to act as a double-agent, pretending to be a turncoat and funneling confidential (and usually false) information to the Kaiser's spy office, all the while working to uncover any German plots against the United States. After much work to gain their trust and access to high levels of the Imperial Intelligence Service, Cannon hit the mother lode – a complete set of Germany's war plans against the U.S., should America finally decide to intervene on the Allies' behalf in the war raging across Europe. Unwilling to trust this information to any lesser courier or to the diplomatic pouch, the U.S. ambassador in Berlin smuggled Cannon into neutral Holland, with instructions to personally get those microfilmed plans to the War Department in Washington, D.C....and to protect them with his life!

Unfortunately, the Germans have discovered Cannon's coup, and have sent several of their best agents after him, while other operatives of the Kaiser's await his arrival. Already, he has come close to being killed several times, and for all his indisputable talents, even Cannon might not be able to escape their relentless, ruthless pursuit.

Luckily for him, as he reaches The City and begins his final run to safety, he's about to get help from an unexpected source – the most extraordinary woman he'll ever meet.



HEROES


Orphaned at the tender age of three by a railroad accident that claimed her parents and older brother, Miss Jennifer Sherwood, now twenty-one, is the lovely heiress to the Masterson publishing empire and a well-to-do philanthropist. As an advocate of women's rights and a progressive reformer, she is a champion of economic, social, and political changes that will address many of the problems facing turn-of-the-century America, especially in the City. What no one knows apart from her Japanese housekeepers is that she has a secret double identity. Following the conspiratorial murder of her great-uncle, guardian, and only known remaining relative, publisher Edward Masterson, she decided to become a masked crimefighter with the code name of Shadowvixen. With a reporter's investigative skills, knowledge of martial arts, and uncanny weapons accuracy when needed, this hooded-and-cloaked vigilantess appears here and there in the night, seeking to both avenge the murder of her uncle and to protect the populace against those threats that she cannot deal with in her more public persona. Jennifer has been engaged in this double life for just over a year now, with some notable successes and several harrowing escapes from criminals and the police alike. Unknown to her, she is about to discover that there is much more going on behind the scenes...and that Someone is becoming very perturbed about her continual interference!

An extremely handsome, well-dressed, and impeccably groomed man in his early thirties, Nick Cannon is arguably America's finest covert operative and one of its most successful. Time and again, improvising as the situation changes, he has come through and completed his mission. Able to speak several European languages, he's as suited to the back alleys of Moscow as he is to the casino tables of Monte Carlo – and usually with a beautiful woman on his arm! A good shot with his 9mm Luger P08 Parabellum, Cannon can live up to his name when he needs to.




PROLOGUE

The City Waterfront – 5:00 PM, Friday, July 23, 1915

As the Holland-America luxury liner S.S. Amsterdam arrived in The City, nearly all of its passengers lined the rails, waving to friends, loved ones, and friendly strangers alike who waited for the great ship to be securely anchored to its berth at Pier 10. Crew members busily attended to their tasks, while their captain and officers communicated with the dockworkers to bring the liner to safe harbor. Most of those aboard were relieved to have the trip done; ever since the torpedoing of the Lusitania over two months ago, not even passenger liners were considered totally safe from German attack now.

Nick Cannon, special operative for the U.S. Secret Service, would certainly agree.

Far below decks, the American agent wrestled with two of the Kaiser's operatives, who sought only one thing – the microfilm of highly confidential documents that Cannon had managed to confiscate out of the Imperial War Plans office.

Well, actually, that wasn't quite true. There was one other thing the German agents wanted.

The death of Nick Cannon.

Back and forth the battle went, the American's fists and smarts pitted against the Germans' knives and ruthless determination. Finally, Cannon got the upper hand when, spotting a cargo net above filled with boxes of glass ornaments, he pulled out his silenced 9mm Luger semiautomatic and shot away the rope holding it up. At once, the whole net and its contents came crashing down upon his enemies, burying them under wood, packing straw, and broken glass. Amazingly, one of them was still conscious, and he turned a dazed fury towards the American spy.

“You haven't...gotten away...yet, Cannon,” he told him. “The Kaiser's...men are...everywhere. You will...not...escape.” And with that last promise, he finally passed out.

The republic's most accomplished overseas spy stood up, smoothed down his hair, and straightened out the imperfections in his dapper clothes. “If the rest of your friends are as effective as the two of you,” he told his unconscious and injured foes, “then I don't think I have much to worry about.” With that, he hastened away to exit the ship as soon as he could.

That was a bit of bravado, Nick, he thought to himself. That's the third attempt to get rid of me on this ship, on top of the attack on the train getting to Holland. If this keeps up, it's only a matter of time before they succeed. He took out the precious microfilm from inside a concealed pocket in his jacket. Inside the small container were Germany's war plans against the United States, should America decide to enter the year-long conflict raging across Europe on the Allied side. It was for this roll of film, and all it represented, that Nick Cannon was risking his life.

“This has to get to Washington at all costs,” he said softly. “But how am I going to get there when half the German intelligence service is on the lookout for me?”

He didn't know the answer, for sure. All he knew is he had to accomplish this most important mission of his career...or die trying.

A few minutes later, a debonair fellow with dark hair and eyes strode off the Amsterdam's gangway and melted into the crowd of disembarking passengers, welcoming citizens of The City, and dockworkers. As he did, two eyes watched him intently through powerful binoculars.

“That's him – he fits the description perfectly. Now, to follow him...and make sure those documents get into the right hands.”


ROUND ONE (location inspired by Mythic – Postpone / Food)
The Hotel Metropolitan, 1500 Lexington Avenue – 7:30 PM

The bustle of a busy restaurant surrounded Nick Cannon as he waited for his meal to arrive. He'd come to this, the most elegant hotel in The City, not just because of its reputation for outstanding first-class service, but also for its visibility. It would be difficult for the Kaiser's agents to get at him here, amid so many people, and its rooms used one of the most secure locks in the business. It would be good to have a hot meal and a good night's sleep, for once.

That didn't mean the American agent wasn't on his guard. Casually, he looked about the dining room at the fashionably-attired men and women about him – especially the women. He'd always been a bit of a ladies' man, and more than once that had been of assistance to his work. Although the view was certainly admirable, his focus was more upon detecting anyone who might have an interest in him at the moment.

Well, several of the ladies were giving him the eye, surreptitiously or not. None of them, however, appeared to be dangerous. Nor did any of the –

Wait...

There, in a far corner of the dining room but still in line-of-sight to Cannon's table, he saw him, and a chill ran down the American spy's spine. Heinrich Prinz, the Imperial Intelligence Service's most able – and vicious – assassin. Cannon had never tangled with the man before, and from everything he'd heard while working in Berlin, he didn't want to. Prinz was Germany's top “eliminator”, and his job was to kill foreign spies, anywhere and every time they posed a serious danger to the security of the Reich. Most recently, he'd been rumored to have been behind the gruesome death of a French agent in Switzerland. There had been nothing left of the poor fellow but a mangled, twisted corpse after falling – or more accurately, being thrown – into the sinister Reichenbach Falls. Cannon's friend from British Intelligence, Reilly, had called Prinz “possibly the single most dangerous man in Europe.”

Now he was here; and, looking right at his American foe, the well-dressed German with brown hair and eyes gave him a smile and nod of acknowledgment.

Well, there goes any thought of staying overnight, Cannon thought. I've got to stay on the move, try to keep one step ahead of him. Hell, I shouldn't even eat the dinner I've ordered – it's probably poisoned!

As if on cue, the waiter arrived with the silver-plated covered dish that was Cannon's meal. Tipping the man and sighing at the loss of an exquisite repast, the American agent lifted the cover carefully and looked over what was underneath. Yes, there was the roasted chicken, the steamed vegetables, the moist dressing, the – note?

Just jutting out from under the chicken was a narrow strip of paper, similar to what one would find in a Chinese fortune cookie. As surreptitiously as possible, Cannon slipped the paper into his hand and then, posturing himself as if he was saying a silent grace, he looked down at the paper in his hand through slitted eyelids:


“SV”? he thought to himself. Who can that be? Is this a trap? Or might the Secret Service have finally sent me some help, after all?

Weighing his options, Cannon was finally persuaded by the steady gaze of Heinrich Prinz upon him. He took out a small notebook, wrote a short note on it for the waiter, then drained his glass of port and got up to go to his room on the eighth floor of this twelve-story hotel.

After he left the room, Prinz waited a few moments, then casually got up and departed, as well.





(The Hotel is a Recurring Location; conflict list entries #3, 6, 9 and 10 will be generated by Mythic)

World – Round 1, Turn 1
Access 6C – Locale, Incidental / Harm / Portals (Moderate Impact)
Interpretation: An elevator gets stuck between floors.

Cannon entered one of the hotel's three elevators, giving the young man operating it a nod of thanks as he held the door open. “Eighth floor, please.”

“Yes, sir!”

As the elevator rose, Cannon's hand reached inside the jacket of his tuxedo to ensure that two things were there: the precious case of microfilm; and the Luger that had saved his life so many times over the past few years. Suddenly, as the elevator passed the sixth floor, it stopped! Cannon's anxiety leapt a couple of notches, and he turned to the operator beside him. “What the hell just happened?”

“I don't know, sir! The mechanism's been working fine all day!” He tried working the controls another few times, but with no response. He pressed the alarm bell to let people know there was a problem with the elevator...but no sound came out of it.

“I can't ring the alarm bell, either! Oh well, it won't be long before the hotel management learns what's wrong, and sends up help for us. Sorry for the inconvenience, sir.”

Cannon agreed that it was an inconvenience, all right. An all-too-convenient inconvenience!

Hero – Round 1, Turn 1
Access JH – Cannon, Bricoleur, improvises unconventionally (Low Impact)

“Well, I'm not about to wait around. I've got an appointment to keep!” Cannon said. With that, he leaped up and, bracing himself against the walls of the small elevator, popped open the emergency exit above him. Quickly, he hoisted himself up and out, until he was standing on top of the stuck cage. He could see the doors to the next floor up, just a few feet above him. Unfortunately, there seemed to be no way to open them from here. Maybe if he climbed up the cables, he could get to a point where he could force the doors open?

World – Round 1, Turn 2
Access 9S – Locale, Incidental / Recruit / Advice (High Impact)
Interpretation: A sign warns of great danger

As Cannon looked further, though, he saw something that chilled his heart:


Cannon didn't know which was more disconcerting to him: the thought of plummeting down at least seventy feet to his death atop a runaway elevator, or the knowledge that someone thought the possibility real enough to put up a warning sign about it!

“Next time, I'm taking the stairs,” he muttered aloud.

Hero – Round 1, Turn 2
Access 9S – Shadowvixen, Utility Belt, Grapnel & Swingline (Low Impact)

At that moment, however, a slender rope dropped down almost into his face, and a voice called to him from above.

“Grab hold, you and the elevator operator! You can get out this way!”

Looking up, Cannon saw the eighth floor doors had been opened, and a hooded head was peering down at him. Between the lighting and the hood, it was impossible to make out any features.

Seeing no better alternative, he called down to the operator boy. “Come on, son! We'd better get out of here!”

World – Round 1, Turn 3
Access JS – Locale, Deliberate / Punish / Dispute (Extreme Impact)
Interpretation: The malfunctioning elevator's cables begin to disconnect

But the young man inside the stuck cab shook his head and crossed his arms. “No, sir! I'm not going anywhere! Rules say, if the elevator gets stuck, you stay put until the maintenance people get things working again, or the fire department arrives. So that's what I'm going to do, and you'd better do it, too!”

Before Cannon could angrily reply, he heard a loud metallic “SNAP!” and was whipsawed against the wall of the elevator shaft as one of the cables disconnected from its mounting. The cab dropped several precipitous inches, as it now was held up by only one more cable. If that separated, too...!

The uniformed teenager inside thought better of his decision, and desperately sought to grab hold of the open exit above him, seeking to get out before it was too late!

Hero – Round 1, Turn 3
Access 10S, use 9S – Shadowvixen, Martial Artist (Moderate Impact)

Seeing the two men below in trouble, the mysterious figure above them didn't hesitate.

Leaping out from the open doors fifteen feet up, cloak billowing behind, it grabbed hold of the line let down a moment before and slid down it with lightning speed, alighting gently atop the elevator cab. Reaching in through the top with practiced skill, it grabbed the hotel employee inside by the collar and flipped him up and through to set him shakily on his feet next to Cannon.

Both men looked into the dark folds of the figure's hood, and saw therein the face of a young and very attractive woman...the upper part of which was covered by a black mask in the shape of a fox's visage. The elevator operator gasped in recognition of who she was.

“Sh-Sh-Shadowvixen!”

“Shadowvixen?” Cannon asked him quizzically.

“Yes, Shadowvixen,” she answered a little testily in a voice a little deeper than woman's wont and tinged with a vaguely English accent. “Now, if you're quite done being amazed, let's get off this thing before...”

World – Round 1, Turn 4
Access 10S – See above for Turn 3 entry (Extreme Impact)

At that very moment, there was a groan and a “SNAP!” as the second cable released its hold on the overstressed cab, which began a deadly plunge towards the basement levels, more than eight stories straight down!

Hero – Round 1, Turn 4
Access JS, Use 9S, 10S – Shadowvixen, Grapnel & Line (High Impact)

“Everyone, grab hold!” Shadowvixen shouted as the cab gave way beneath the three of them. In the split-second while she still had solid footing, the cloaked crusader leapt straight up to grasp the well-anchored swingline from her utility belt. Cannon, too, grabbed hold of the line immediately in front of him. The poor young elevator operator, though, a little slow to respond, barely managed to grab hold of Shadowvixen's legs.

Gravity and the unexpected extra weight pulled at her mercilessly, but she held onto the line with a death grip, refusing to give in to the Grim Reaper just yet...

World – Round 1, Turn 5
Access JH – See entry for Turn 3 above (Extreme Impact); activate Shadowvixen's Heroic Disadvantage: Selfless, puts needs of others ahead of her own well-being. (Low Impact)

“Oh God!” the young man cried out as his hold on Shadowvixen slipped. “I'm falling!” he screamed as he thought of the fatal plunge he was about to take.

Without thinking of the consequences, the heroine pulled up her legs, reached down with her right hand, and with a cry of exertion, hauled him up with a surge of adrenaline-fueled strength to where he could grab hold of the line, which he did.

But in doing so, she had left herself unbalanced, and her gloved left hand slipped on the line. She threatened to topple into the abyss!

Hero – Round 1, Turn 5
Access 6C – Cannon, Stunningly Handsome, makes an impression upon others (Low Impact)

Cannon reached up with his own strong right hand and gripped Shadowvixen's left wrist tightly, putting it back on the rope. “Don't you dare drop out of sight now, miss! After all this, it'd be a shame not to get to know you better!” He gave her his most winning smile to encourage her.

Shadowvixen, reassured by his powerful, handsome features and strong touch about her hand, recovered her balance and gripped the slim lifeline tightly with both hands once more. As she did, a tremendous CRASH! sounded from below, as the empty elevator cab finished its final journey to the bottom of the shaft.

Nick Cannon, ace spy, looked into the face of the costumed vigilantess called Shadowvixen, and grinned.

“Well, when you said in your note that there was danger brewing, you weren't kidding!” he told her.

ROUND TWO
The back streets behind the Hotel Metropolitan – 7:50 PM

Shadowvixen led Nick Cannon through a back door to the alley behind the hotel, looking anxiously in all directions. It hadn't been terribly difficult to get out of that elevator shaft, though they'd had to pull up Andy, the elevator operator. The poor lad had fainted dead away once he was safely in Cannon's nearby room. Once he was tucked away, the American agent had quickly grabbed his overcoat and hat and followed his mysterious savior down a service stairwell to the basement floor. Already, the police and fire departments were on their way to the hotel, and both of them knew it would be best to leave the area as soon as possible. Although the authorities might be willing to assist Cannon, they'd have to check his story first, and that might prove to be a fatal delay. As for Shadowvixen, she just knew her personal nemesis, Police Inspector Ahab Gunderson, would be anxious to get his bracelets around her wrists and unmask the woman he always referred to as 'that meddling vigilante'!

Seeing nothing amiss yet, the dark-garbed damsel led the way, with the master spy right behind. For the next several minutes, she guided him swiftly along the darkest streets and alleys, seemingly taking no certain route; yet, she never hesitated, as if she knew exactly where she was going. The bells of the nearby Church of Saint Benedict had just begun tolling the call to evening Mass when she finally stopped in a dark alcove.

“We can catch our breath here, Cannon,” she said in between heaves of her chest.

“You know who I am, then?” The tone of his voice made it sound more like a statement.

Shadowvixen nodded. “Yes, and I know of your errand, as well. Don't ask how. Like you, I must keep my own confidential sources...confidential.”

“My superiors in Washington won't like that. This was supposed to be a secret known only to them, the ambassador in Berlin, and myself,” Cannon remarked darkly.

“Tell that to the fellows chasing after you,” the heroine replied. “Obviously they know, otherwise they wouldn't have sabotaged that elevator, now would they?” She gave him a slight smirk. “How many times have they tried to kill you?”

“Counting just now? Five times in the past ten days,” he answered ruefully.

“Let's see if we can't keep that number down, then,” she said to him. Shadowvixen then doffed her hood for a moment and leaned against the wall of the alcove. The rising moon, a quarter from the full, came out from behind a fleeing cloud and illuminated the alleyway with a dim light, enough for Cannon to get a good look at her at last.

She wore a high-necked black leotard, similar to what circus performers might wear, that hugged closely to a slender yet curvaceous figure. Black elbow-length gloves and knee-high boots scandalously revealed bare upper arms and thighs which showed a strong, well-toned musculature. Snug about her hips was a dark gray utility belt holding several pouches, and strapped to each thigh was a flapped holster containing the relatively new M1911 Colt .45 caliber semiautomatic pistol – a weapon normally reserved only for American military officers. A dark cloak went over the whole ensemble, as did the hood, normally. For the moment, though, it was off, showing her to have wavy, shoulder-length honey-blonde hair and blue eyes beneath the black fox's mask that covered the upper part of what was clearly a lovely face.

Nick Cannon couldn't help but be impressed by her beauty; and now she turned to look at him, and she saw really for the first time how handsome the secret agent was. Virile, with dark hair and eyes, and a trim mustache above a masculine set of lips and a square jaw. His finely-made tuxedo was covered by an open overcoat of the first quality, and even his hat had the mark of a man of means. But he was certainly no dandy, for she noted the alertness in his eyes and the expert way he drew and examined his Luger, making sure it was ready for action. Shadowvixen couldn't help but catch her breath – not so much in need of air, as in reaction to one of the finest specimens of manhood she'd ever met. It was a delight to aid such a hero as this!

Cannon saw her attention was on him and decided it was time to break the spell. There would be time for mutual admiration – and perhaps more than that, he mused – later. “Where to now?”

Shadowvixen nodded down the street. “That way. Not far from here is the entrance to a secret place I know of. We'll be safe there.”

“Then lead the way, Miss Vixen. The sooner and farther I'm away from those Bosch, the better!”

“Amen to that,” replied his guide and guardian. Raising her hood to cover her head once more, she took his hand and moved out, the light from the moon fading as it disappeared behind swift clouds again....




(the Back Streets are a Spontaneous Location; all conflict list entries generated by Mythic GME)

World – Round 2, Turn 1
Access 2C – Being, Mysterious / Procrastinate / Bureaucracy (Low Impact)
Interpretation: An unknown policeman calls out to our heroes to stop!

As Shadowvixen and Cannon sped along the darkened and sparsely-peopled streets, ignoring the shouts of surprised citizens and apartment dwellers, a policeman on his normal beat spotted them. He may not have known who the dapper gentleman was, but there was no mistaking who the woman could be! At once, he blew on his police whistle and shouted after them.

“Shadowvixen! Halt, in the name of the law! I say again, halt!”

The heroine cursed under her breath. That blasted policeman would call in every officer in the area if he could. Worse, that shout might alert the Germans who were after Cannon, too!

Hero – Round 2, Turn 1
Access 9H, Use 10H – Cannon, Bricoleur (Moderate Impact)

Nick Cannon had come to the same conclusion. He reacted as he almost always did to a fluid situation: He improvised.

“Change of plans! This way!”

Speeding up, he grasped her hand and turned around a corner, then turned again into the first alley he saw branching out to his right, hoping to shake the pursuit. He led her halfway down it to another dark alcove, where he pulled her in close and waited.

Sure enough, soon the footsteps of running feet sped by in the opposite direction, and in mere moments, they dwindled away towards the dim sound of the policeman's whistle.

World – Round 2, Turn 2
Access 3C, Use 3S – Locale, Deliberate / Dominate / Opulence (Moderate Impact)
Interpretation: A building houses one or more of The City's wealthy and powerful people
Is it a residence? (Somewhat Likely) – Yes
Is it well-known? (Somewhat Likely) – Exceptional No!
Interpretation: Hardly anyone knows about it, then. A secret residence!
Does it belong to a crime lord? (Unlikely) – Exceptional Yes!
Oh, boy....Is it a Master Villain's secret lair? (Likely) – Yes
Does he know that Our Heroes are practically at his front door? (Very Likely) – Yes
Does the Villain know of either Hero, or met them? (50/50) – No

“Looks like we're in the clear,” Cannon said, with a sigh of relief.

Just then, a trap door opened right underneath their feet. Both hero and heroine plunged down into darkness, to an unknown fate!

Inside his opulent secret lair, the sinister figure chuckled evilly. A gloved hand returned a lever to its prior setting, and the trap door outside closed silently, with not a single indication as to it ever existing.

“What an exquisite turn of events!” the figure remarked idly as it took a glass of wine in its other, metallic hand. “I hadn't expected company tonight. I really must take the time to welcome them properly.”

And the villain let out a harsh, throaty laugh at the “entertainment” that was to come.

Before going further, let's clear up some details about our Master Villain....
Is it a man? (Likely) – Yes
What is the nature of his villainy? (Complex) – Cruelty / Pain
Interpretation: Uh, oh...he's a nasty torturer, this one. Delights in causing suffering, torment, and death!
Why is he a Master Villain? (Complex) – Lie / Wounds
Interpretation: Frauds he committed in the past – the source of his great and sheltered wealth – led to his being tortured and nearly killed by one he wronged. So now, he shall inflict suffering and pain upon society in return! (In other words, he's gone nuts....)
Has Shadowvixen heard of him before? (Likely) – No
Does Cannon know about him, at all? (Very Unlikely) – No

Hero – Round 2, Turn 2
Access 10H, Use 9H – Cannon, Bricoleur (Moderate Impact)

Nick Cannon groaned as he picked himself up off the large mattress he'd landed on. It hadn't been the fall so much that had thrown him for a loop, but the sheer surprise of it. He shook his head to clear it.

Beside him, Shadowvixen sat up, rubbing her left funny bone and getting the feeling back into her forearm and fingers. “Well, that was unpleasant,” she said with a grimace, and looked up towards the treacherous trap door that had plunged them down here.

“Are you all right?” her companion asked worriedly.

“Yes. Don't worry, I'll be fine,” she reassured him.

Cannon got up and looked around. There seemed to be nothing but darkness stretching on and on.

“Any idea where we are?”

Shadowvixen shook her hooded head. “Not a clue, I'm afraid, apart from its general address. This place is located near Liberty Square, an area of upper middle-class homes not far from the commercial district.” She pushed herself to her feet.

“This can't be good,” the spy commented. “Someone caused us to be dropped in here, and it's probably not to join him for dinner. Blast it! If only we had some light, we might find a way out of here before something really bad happens!”

“Ask, as ye shall receive,” the costumed heroine said serenely. She pulled out a small flashlight from her utility belt and snapped it on. Sweeping its limited beam of light in a slow arc from left to right, she illuminated no less than four openings – two ahead, and one each to the left and right. “It's like a maze,” she commented.

“And we're the mice,” Cannon growled. “Well, might as well see where this all leads; there's no getting out the way we came in,” he said, pointing up. “Follow me.”

“Are you sure you know where you're going?” Shadowvixen asked.

“Not in the least. But when all else fails...” Cannon stood tall and began to randomly point at the doors. “...eenie, meenie, minie, moe! That way!” And with that, he strode forward and through the door ahead of him on the right, with Shadowvixen close behind.

World – Round 2, Turn 3
Access 3S, Use 3C – See above conflict list entry (Moderate Impact)
What “deliberate” conflict does the Villain's lair pose now? (Complex) – Befriend / A Burden
Interpretation: Another lost soul in the maze is known to one of the heroes, and will be a hindrance to them.
Is it someone Cannon knows? (50/50) – Exceptional No!
Okay, Cannon has no idea who it is, but Shadowvixen does....
Who is it? (Complex) – Haggle / Information
Interpretation: It's the editor of Jennifer Sherwood's newspaper!

As they moved deeper into the heart of the maze, guided by her electric torch, Cannon and Shadowvixen found themselves staring at mahogany wood paneling, rich carpeting, and the occasional gilded mirror. Whoever had built this place hadn't spared any expense, that's for sure!

All at once, they stopped. Someone – or something – was ahead of them, shuffling their way! Both heroes pulled their pistols and prepared to confront whatever it might be. The being came into view...

Shadowvixen gasped in shock. Though he appeared haggard and unshaven, the man was still quite recognizable to her. Cannon heard her sound of surprise and turned to his companion. “You know him?”

She nodded; she knew him, all right! Swallowing her tension, she explained.

“It's Winford Carroll Douglas, the managing editor of the City Town Crier, a local newspaper.” My newspaper, to be exact! she added silently. I've got to get him out of here, but I need to be careful about it, too. I have to keep him from suspecting that his boss, Jennifer Sherwood, and Shadowvixen are the same woman!

NOTE: At this point, the Hero player initiates a dispute (more accurately, a discussion) over this new twist in the plot. Given the circumstances, the World Player suggests, and the Hero Player agrees, to create a new, temporary Heroic Disadvantage for Shadowvixen to reflect Douglas' appearance. Until she can get him to safety, Shadowvixen will be subject to the following:

Hearts [1] – Dependent NPC: Winford Douglas, her editor, whom she must protect from harm.

Once he is safe, the Disadvantage will be removed from play. As compensation, the Hero Player suggests, and the World Player agrees, to make Douglas Shadowvixen's temporary Sidekick, usable until the Disadvantage is removed. Both players agree that Douglas could become a recurring character in future games, though he would not necessarily be a formal Sidekick. Instead, since Shadowvixen has no Suit Ability in Hearts, she could use a Hearts card in a Tableau as a Character Assumption to bring Douglas into play for his Suit Ability, provided that the circumstances of the game allow her to contact him for advice and help. This is noted on both her “character sheet” and in the World Player's notes for future reference. The Hero Player then creates the new, temporary Sidekick:



The man whom Jennifer Sherwood relies upon for the day-to-day managing of her successful newspaper is an experienced journalist who's been in the business for forty years, ever since he was a “newsie” hawking papers on street corners as a boy. Now in his fifties, he's showing his age, but his mind is still very much alert, and his sense for a good story is as keen as ever. He doesn't necessarily share in all of his publisher's reform goals (that whole “women's rights” idea, for example) but knows that his paper is a major part of helping needed changes take place in The City – a fact he takes no little pride in.




Hero – Round 2, Turn 3
Access 3C – Shadowvixen, Attractive Presence, her beauty and charisma make an impression on others (Low Impact)

The pitiable figure of Winford Douglas recoiled from the light with a cry, and turned to run.

“Wait! Mr. Douglas, don't run! We'll help you!” Shadowvixen called.

He stopped at her words, and turned around. She turned her flashlight up so it would illuminate her reassuring face. He'd seen the vigilantess before, several times, in photographs and artists' sketches; and she could only hope that he wouldn't also notice the similarities she shared with Miss Jennifer Sherwood, his publisher.

“It's me, Douglas,” she called in her disguised voice, trying to instill confidence into him.

The distressed editor of the City Town Crier squinted at her. “Sh...Shadowvixen?”

“Yes, Douglas. Come here, it's alright now.”

In the glow of her flashlight, the disguised heroine could now see Douglas more clearly. He wore the same tweed outfit he usually wore about his thick frame, but it had clearly seen better days. His gray hair was a disheveled mess, and his beard had growth of at least three days on it. His dark eyes had a haunted, almost desperate look to them, and they blinked as he tried to shield himself from a light he hadn't seen in too long.

“Shadowvixen!” he nearly sobbed in relief. “Thank God! I thought I'd never see anyone again! It's been ages since I saw even one human face!”

“Only a couple of days, Douglas. Your beard tells me that much,” she said to him. “What happened?”

“I was trying to check out a story – a big scoop, one I couldn't trust to any reporter. Well, to make a long story short, I must've upset someone. I got smacked on the head, and when I came to, I was here – in the most luxurious and inescapable maze I've ever heard of.”

“Any idea who owns this place?” Cannon asked, finally speaking up.

World – Round 2, Turn 4
Access 9H – Locale, Deliberate / Oppose / Weapons (High Impact)
Interpretation: From out of the walls emerge weapons, pointed at our Heroes!

“Why, I do, of course!” came a voice out of nowhere, in answer to Cannon’s question.

Suddenly, lights snapped on overhead, filling the corridor with blazing light. Dazzled, all three of its unwilling occupants covered their eyes, trying to recover their sight. By the time they did, some moments later, a very uncomfortable sight greeted their vision.

Gun barrels had appeared out of the walls, covering every few inches of the corridor's length. If they opened fire, there would be no escape from the hail of bullets.

“Welcome, my dear guests!” came the voice again. “Please, do step forward – I'm so anxious to meet you personally.” With that, a mahogany panel slid aside at the far end of the long room, revealing a doorway to...somewhere.

Cannon, Shadowvixen, and Douglas looked anxiously at one another. It appeared they had no choice but to do as their captor said.

“I'm starting to think I'd have been better off with the Germans,” Cannon said ruefully.

Hero – Round 2, Turn 4
Access 2C – Shadowvixen, Attractive Presence (Low Impact)

“And if we refuse? You realize you'd be ruining your valuable paneling if you opened fire. And I'd simply hate to have my hair mussed!” Shadowvixen bluffed bravely as she bared her head to clear her peripheral vision, while showing off her rich dark-golden locks and trying to show the others that she wasn't as afraid or concerned as she really was.

“Oh, trust me, my dear. I can easily afford to replace it, if I need to. Please, don't make me need to.”

And with that, the sound of a hundred guns being primed simultaneously echoed menacingly throughout the corridor.

Shadowixen swallowed the lump in her throat. “I was afraid you'd say something like that,” she said. “At least, let Mr. Douglas go. He can do you no harm!”

World – Round 2, Turn 5
Access 10H – Thing, Abstract / Ruin / Wounds (Extreme Impact)
Interpretation: Instead of bullets, an invisible poisonous gas begins shooting from the guns!

“Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that,” the mysterious voice told her. “He's seen and heard far too much by now...though perhaps not as much as you're about to! As for your concern for my humble abode, I really don't have to worry at all about damaging my beautiful mahogany; no, not one bit! Permit me to show you why....”

And from the gun barrels spat, not bullets, but a spray of some invisible gas that began to choke the spy, the heroine, and the editor.

“You have a choice, friends. Come into my parlor within the next few seconds...or perish. Which shall it be?” he asked with a mocking laugh.

It would only be moments before he had his answer – one way or another.

Hero – Round 2, Turn 5
Access 3S – Shadowvixen, Utility Belt, Rebreather (Low Impact)

Thankfully, the disguised damsel had come prepared for such an eventuality. Reaching into her utility belt, she withdrew a thick, six-inch-long, metallic cylinder with a mouthpiece in the middle and a nose clip on the top. It was what was called a “rebreather” – filled with filters to scrub carbon dioxide from exhaled air, it would enable her to continue breathing her lungs' supply of oxygen for several minutes longer than merely holding one's breath would allow. Perfect for extended stays underwater...or for working in a room full of gas.

Quickly inserting it into her mouth, Shadowvixen grabbed both of the men beside her and pulled them after her as she sprinted for the open doorway at the end of the corridor. Whatever fate might be in store for them down there, it was eminently preferable to dying here!

It took precious seconds, and Cannon and Douglas were coughing furiously by the time they reached dubious safety, but they were all still alive – for now – as the panel slid shut.

(Note: This counts as one of two times this game that Shadowvixen can use her rebreather.)

ROUND THREE
Inside the opulent secret lair of a Master Villain – 8:30 PM

Shadowvixen removed the rebreather from her mouth and stowed it back into her utility belt. Both Nick Cannon and Winford Douglas were still recovering from the poisonous gas they'd inhaled, coughing mightily. Anxiously, she knelt to attend to them, afraid that even the small amount they had taken in might be potentially fatal.

“You needn't worry, my dear. They'll be just fine,” came the voice of their captor once more. She looked about uselessly, for again, there was nobody else present. Some sort of loudspeaker system, no doubt, the heroine thought sourly.

“So, the gas was actually harmless,” she said more than asked.

“Ah, you figured it out, then! Yes, it's harmless, aside from the compound that induces severe coughing and choking. Of course, breathe in enough of any gas, and you'll asphyxiate, but it would take much more than what your friends inhaled to do that,” the sinister voice smoothly explained.

“And who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want with us?”

“Ah-ah-ah!” her captor cautioned. “This is my home, so I'll ask the questions, if you don't mind. Who are you, I wonder, so lovely and so...unusually dressed, if I may say so?”

The dark-clad vigilantess stood up, resting one slender hand upon the butt of a holstered pistol as she did. “I am called Shadowvixen. The gentleman with me is of no account to you.”

“That's *cough* a fine thing to say! *cough*,” the said gentleman remarked as he struggled to his feet, better now that he had genuine air in his lungs again. “Name's *cough* Cannon. Nick Cannon.”

“And a pleasure to meet you it is, Mister Cannon,” said the voice, “though I'm certain the feeling isn't mutual, hm?” The secret service agent refused to be baited into answering, though. For a few moments, an uncertain silence followed.

The two heroes used the time to quickly take in their surroundings. They were in a library, with bookshelves on three walls, fashionable carpeting, ornate furniture, and impressionist paintings by Monet and Degas. Four cozy armchairs surrounded a large circular table in the center of the room, upon which was a lit candelabrum, though an overhead electric chandelier supplied plenty of light to the windowless room. Two sets of double doors, one on the left and one on the right, were at either corner of the far wall.

“I have to admit, the old man was right,” Cannon whispered to his female ally. “This is the swankest prison I've ever seen.”

“But still a prison,” Shadowvixen hissed back. “And I need to get you and Mr. Douglas out of it, fast!” She turned her attention back to their still-unknown captor. “I'd still like to know what you want with us,” she called out.

“Ahhhhh....That's for me to know, and for you to find out, my dear Miss Vixen. You can do so by exiting through one of the two doorways you see ahead of you. One can take you to freedom; the other can lead to your doom. Choose wisely! Oh, and don't bother asking again what will happen if you refuse to play my little game,” he added. “After all, as your handsome consort said earlier, you certainly can't leave by the way you came in!”

Cannon looked at Shadowvixen. “Split up? That way, at least one of us gets out alive.”

She snorted derisively in response. “That assumes he's even telling us the truth! Besides, what about our little secret? No, we all get out together, or none of us do. And there's safety in numbers.”

Cannon shrugged. “Can't argue with that logic.” He turned and helped Douglas to his feet, the editor having finally recovered his wits and breath enough to move once more. “Come on, sir! It’s time to go.”

“Go?” Douglas said, looking about bewilderingly. “Go where? There's no way out of this place!”

“Yes, there is,” Shadowvixen said with grim determination. “Man may not live by bread alone, but he needs something to eat and drink! He has to get supplies from the outside world, and that means access to the rest of The City. All we have to do is find it.”

“EXCELLENT!” the voice said, applauding. “A fine display of amateur deduction, Miss Vixen! Now, the question is: Will you live long enough to do so?”

“I'll make book on it,” Cannon said defiantly.

“Left or right?” Shadowvixen asked him.

“Left!” he answered immediately.

So saying, they moved together as one to exit through the doorway they had chosen.




(this part of the Villain's Lair is a Spontaneous Location; all conflict list entries are generated by Mythic, with additional input from other products, as shown)

World – Round 3, Turn 1
Access 7H – Thing, Concrete / Take / Dispute (High Impact); activate Shadowvixen's temporary Disadvantage: DNPC, Winford Douglas, her editor, whom she must protect (Low Impact).
Interpretation: Something tries to grab Douglas and spirit him away!
I have no idea what this Thing might be. Time to use another Word Mill Press product I've only recently bought. Summon the Creature Crafter!
Size: Human-sized
Classification: Animated
Description: GM (Mythic's) decision – Heal / The Spiritual
Interpretation: Incredibly, it looks like an itinerant preacher! (Is this guy sick, or what?)
Health: Strong
Speed: Minimum
Defense: Average
Offense: Average
Basic Abilities: Mindless; can see/sense in the dark; needs repairing when damaged.
Special Abilities: Unusual Sense (defined by Mythic) – Stop / Opposition
Interpretation: It “knows” who are the Villain's enemies and will attempt to stop them.
How many Things? – 3
In WvH terms: ROBOT(S), Mindless Automaton, humanoid in appearance, dressed as a pious preacher; Physical Abilities – Incredibly Strong; slow but powerful mechanical man that seeks to stop anyone its creator has deemed his enemies or opponents.

The three prisoners went through the doors and stopped, as they found themselves in the most unlikely place of all, in this weird subterranean mansion.

A chapel.

It was a small place, but its purpose was unmistakable, with two rows of five white pews each, a short choir bench, and a pulpit. And in the pulpit was a preacher in a black frock coat and wide-brimmed hat, looking at them sternly...and blankly. There wasn't a bit of life in his eyes.

Winford Douglas shivered. “What in God's name...?” he wondered aloud.

“I doubt the good Lord has anything to do with this, Mr. Douglas,” Nick Cannon said grimly, pulling out his Luger.

Just then, the lifeless preacher came to life, and spoke with a tinny voice! “SINNERS, REPENT! OR BE THROWN INTO THE FIRES OF HELL!” The doorway behind them leading to the library closed also, and two more voices, identical to the first but just slightly out of sync, said: “REPENT OR BE DAMNED, SERVANTS OF SATAN!”

“AHHH!” cried Douglas as his arms were grabbed by powerful hands. Looking about, he saw that he was in the grip of two other preachers who'd been stationed behind the double doors – except no “preacher” he'd ever known had a painted metal face or such inhuman strength!

Whirling about, Shadowvixen and Cannon saw the editor in trouble, and immediately deduced the problem. “Metal Men!” they shouted simultaneously. And as they moved to free Douglas from the two robots who now began to slowly take him away, the third “preacher” moved from the pulpit and began to walk glacially down the aisle toward them....

Hero – Round 3, Turn 1
Activate 2H, Use 5H – Cannon, Bricoleur (Moderate Impact)

Cannon hesitated for just a second as his mind flashed through options. His Luger was out in his hand, but he had no idea if his bullets would do anything to harm these automatons. Worse, any ricochet might wind up hitting something unintended – like himself or his friends! So, he'd have to try something different to free Douglas, something...unexpected.

“Take the one behind us!” he said to Shadowvixen, then launched himself over the pews to his right, moving faster than either of the slow robots, to race behind them. He'd seen a five-foot-tall candlestick on either side of the doorway they'd just entered, and he might just be able to use one of them as an effective weapon.

Grabbing it with both hands, he lifted it over his head and brought it crashing down upon the top of one of the “preachers”' hats, causing a resounding metallic clang and sparks to come out of its artificial skull. At once, it loosened its grip on Douglas, though the other one had the poor editor firmly in its grasp.

World – Round 3, Turn 2
Access 8C – Thing, Abstract / Oppress / Pain (High Impact)
Interpretation: A powerful electrical surge from the damaged robot provides a shocking experience!

Alas for Cannon, the candlestick wasn't brass, but iron. And as it penetrated both hat and metal alike to damage the guiding electronic brain inside the head, it conducted a massive electrical discharge to the man who'd wielded it.

Nick Cannon's body reacted as if he'd grabbed a live wire – which, essentially, he had – and collapsed to the floor, unconscious!

(Hero Status: Cannon, incapacitated)

Hero – Round 3, Turn 2
Access 3D – Shadowvixen, Detective, finds clues and makes deductions (Low Impact)

“Cannon!” Shadowvixen cried anxiously. It was now her against two robots, but at least the one behind her was moving very slowly; if she acted quickly, she had a chance to defeat them in detail. And the secret agent had shown her the means to do it.

“Hang on, Mr. Douglas!” the crimefighter called to the editor, who was frantically struggling against the powerful strength of the “preacher” who still had a grip on him. She followed Cannon's lead, leaping over the pews to race to his side and pick up the iron candlestick that lay beside him.

Cannon was shocked because he was using bare hands to wield this thing, she thought. But my leather gloves should insulate me against the electricity powering these metal men! And with that, she moved to attack the robot that had her editor and friend in its fiendish grip.

World – Round 3, Turn 3
Access 5H – Thing, Abstract / Care / News (Moderate Impact); activate Shadowvixen's DNPC Disadvantage (Low Impact)
Interpretation: The electrical discharge from the other robot threatens Douglas

But without guidance from its simple artificial brain, the damaged “preacher” moved jerkily. More sparks flew from it, and electrical arcs danced across its painted “clothing”. It suddenly moved towards Winford Douglas, and he screamed as death by electrocution stared him in the face!

Hero – Round 3, Turn 3
Access 5H – Shadowvixen, Character Assumption: Douglas, as a good friend of both her and her late uncle, means a great deal to Jennifer Sherwood. Having seen what happened to Cannon, she doesn't dare let the sparking robot touch Douglas. (Low Impact)

Seeing Douglas in trouble, Shadowvixen quickly switched targets. Leaping high into the air, she swung hard, striking the sparking metal man in its side and toppling it over completely. Its electricity flowed into the metal candlestick, but the heroine's gloves protected her from being harmed; and, being in mid-air and thus not grounded, the power flowed through her body and exited without effect before she landed on one of the wooden pews.

Unfortunately, that left Douglas still in the grip of the other robot, and the third one was coming inexorably closer.

World – Round 3, Turn 4
Access 2H – Being, Mysterious / Return / A Burden (Low Impact); activate Shadowvixen's DNPC Disadvantage (Low Impact)
Interpretation: Our Villain decides to release Douglas, who's left a nervous wreck

“Well,” came a familiar voice from out of nowhere, “this isn't proving much fun. And I liked that fellow you felled so very much. I think we'll call a stop to this little test now.”

And with those words, the “preachers” stopped dead, and the one holding onto the poor editor released its grip and its arms fell to its sides.

Douglas fell to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He'd always considered himself to be a strong man, but the events of the past three days had stressed him to the very edge of despair. And now this! Mechanical men, mysterious menacing voices, inescapable mazes? What had he gotten himself into?!

Shadowvixen was left standing alone, with her dear friend Winford falling to pieces, and her new friend Nick Cannon lying still, knocked out by the vicious shock he'd received to his system.

Hero – Round 3, Turn 4
Access 7H – Shadowvixen, Character Assumption: “A woman's touch” is needed here.... (Low Impact)

The costumed heroine had rarely felt so helpless. All her skills and abilities didn't seem to be enough for this incredible situation. And seeing Douglas at her feet, weeping, she knew what was needed now wasn't her pistols, or her knowledge of martial arts, nor any of the tools in her utility belt, but something simpler...and ultimately, much more powerful.

She knelt down beside Winford Douglas and, taking him in his arms, comforted him with the touch that only a caring, compassionate woman could give.

“Shhhh...it'll be all right, Mr. Douglas,” she reassured him with a soft whisper in his ear. “Let it out, and don't worry...I'm right here. I swear I won't let anything happen to you. Shhhhhh....”

And she held him like that for as long as it took, her eyes closed in silent prayer and focusing all her spirit into helping her friend...until the sobbing subsided, and he had come back to himself once more.

World – Round 3, Turn 5
Access 3D – Being, Aggressive / Failure / A Path (Low Impact)
Interpretation: One or more individuals are blocking the only ways out of the chapel
Who or what are these people? (Complex) – Arrive / Opulence
Interpretation: They are extravagantly-garbed individuals who have just arrived.
What is the nature of their clothing? (Complex) – Gratify / Anger
Interpretation: Their outfits are those of a group known for its anger and violence.
Is it an American group? (50/50) – Exceptional No!
Okay, they’re not from any place in the Western Hemisphere. A European group? (Likely) – Yes.
A group of Europeans, garishly garbed, known for their violence. Cossacks? (Unlikely) – No.
An anarchist society, perhaps? Seems (Likely), given the Villain's attitudes. – Yes.
How many are there? (roll 2d6) – 6
Are they armed? (A Sure Thing) – Yes.
With firearms such as pistols or rifles? (Very Likely) – Yes.

Suddenly, Shadowvixen heard the clicking of hammers being drawn back, and she jerked her head up to look about her.

Standing over her and Douglas, on all sides, were six garishly-garbed figures. Their silken robes were scarlet, and they wore hoods over their heads in a fashion similar to the Ku Klux Klan. About their waists was a yellow sash, bearing a blood-red “A” over a black circle – the international symbol of anarchists – and across the left eye of their hoods were three yellow slashes like claw marks. Most threateningly of all, however, were the cocked revolvers they held in both their hands, which were crossed in front of their chests.

“Ah, I'm sorry to interrupt your tender moment, my dear,” came the hated mysterious voice once more. “Allow me to introduce you to members of the Order of the Tiger, one of the most secretive and violent groups of anarchists in all of Europe. I've hired them to do some work for me in The City, but when you showed, I decided it might be best to have them ready in case my robotic minions failed in their task.” He gave a contented sigh that the heroine could hear over the unseen speakers.

“Now, if you'll be so kind as to surrender and let my men take you and your companions prisoner without protest, they won't have to shoot you. I suggest you do so, for the sake of your friends, if nothing else,” he added with gentle malice.

At that moment, Nick Cannon groaned as he regained painful consciousness. He slowly opened his eyes to see the barrels of two cocked revolvers pointed at his face.

“I hate waking up like this,” he muttered as he closed his eyes again and laid his head back on the floor of the chapel.

Hero – Round 3, Turn 5
Access 8C – Shadowvixen, Attractive Presence (Low Impact)

The cloaked crusader reluctantly stood up, supporting her old friend Winford, who had sunk into a defeated listlessness borne of despair and deprivation. Cannon was alive but barely conscious, and six fiends surrounded them with deadly weapons. There was no hope of escape...but there remained, as always, hope in her heart.

“I won't resist, so long as you don't harm my friends,” Shadowvixen said to her still-unknown captor. “But know this: You haven't won yet. Whatever you may have in store for us, the evil you have done will be avenged someday. And I fully expect to be the one to administer that justice to you,” she finished defiantly, drawing up to her full height, straight and erect.

There was a pause, as if the villain had been impressed by the young woman's courage in the face of hopeless odds. Then came the voice again, and Shadowvixen could practically hear the pleasure dripping from it as he spoke:

“How perfectly melodramatic, my dear! You should have been an actress, starring in your own silent serial! Perhaps, though, I can make your eventual ending just as theatrical.”

And he cackled as his armed minions in red secured their prisoners and marched them out of the chapel, leaving the deactivated robots behind.

(Heroes' Status: Cannon and Shadowvixen, both incapacitated.)

FIRST INTERLUDE
Inside the opulent secret lair of a Master Villain – 9:00 PM

Shadowvixen, Nick Cannon, and Winford Douglas were marched along the hardwood-floored hallway in single file, with armed guards ahead and behind, and their wrists handcuffed behind their backs. The costumed heroine held her head up high, hoping her look of defiant confidence might inspire some hope in her battered friends. Truth be told, though, she didn’t like the odds of this situation. She'd gotten out of several tough scrapes in the past, but this one might be the most difficult yet.

Despite that, she was genuinely curious to meet her mysterious and aggravating captor. Who was this man of wealth and means, who toyed so casually with people's lives and sanity? Why the elaborate maze, the robotic men dressed as preachers, the anarchists?

Finally, the guards ushered them into a large, ornately furnished room – a trophy room, to be precise. On the walls were the stuffed heads of several large animals, including elk, bear, deer, lions, tigers, wolves, and assorted other game from around the world. Hunting rifles, tribal weapons and shields, and maps of many recently-explored areas of the Earth also decorated the walls. But those were of less interest to Shadowvixen than the man who stood at a large mounted globe, a glass of dark wine in his…metallic hand?

He was tall, about six feet in height, slender and erect. He wore a smoking jacket over fashionable but casual “lounging” clothes, and slippers were on his feet. A lit cigar was in his remaining flesh-covered hand, which she could tell was badly scarred. His scalp was covered with sparse white hair with black roots, and when he turned at last to look upon his prisoners, she saw that there was a white patch over one eye. He smiled a wide grin tinged with malice as he motioned for his “guests” to be seated, and the anarchist guards forced each of them into a large leather chair.

“Welcome, my dear Miss Vixen, and other guests. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Xavier Matthews, but my 'professional' contacts know me simply as...The Torturer.”

Shadowvixen raised an eyebrow. “The Torturer?” she repeated rhetorically. “Isn't that just a little presumptuous?”

Matthews shrugged. “Perhaps it is an affectation of sorts, but certainly no more preposterous than calling oneself 'Shadowvixen', is it not?” he retorted. “And why do you call yourself that?”

It was the masked crusader's turn to shrug. “I have my reasons.”

“Indeed. Well, I suppose it's time we found out who you are beneath that black mask of yours,” he said, gesturing to one of his scarlet-clad associates.

The anarchist grasped hold of the mask's edge and pulled – but it wouldn't come off! He tried again, twice, but it wouldn't budge. “It won't come off, sir,” he told his boss in a vaguely central European accent. “Shall I cut it off?” he asked, pulling out a wicked knife.

Matthews looked at Shadowvixen. “No, that’s all right. Most likely I wouldn’t have recognized her out of all the other attractive young women in this City, anyway.” He puffed on his cigar and thought quietly for a moment before continuing. “Fixed in place by an adhesive, I presume?” he asked curiously.

“Good guess,” she replied smoothly. “A special type, requiring a specific solvent mixed with water that, when absorbed through the mask's material, dissolves the glue. As a fringe benefit, it turns out to be a very effective moisturizer, too. A girl needs to look after her appearance, after all,” Shadowvixen said with sly, confident grin.

“Ah, most practical! Most ingenious! Though, I'm afraid that after tonight, you'll have no need to worry about such ever again.”

She nodded in a gesture of fulfilled expectations. “So you're going to kill us,” the heroine accused.

“To put it simply, yes. Though it won't be done simply, of course. I have to live up to my name.”

“You keep your dirty hands off of her,” Nick Cannon grated. He was finally recovering from the electrical shock that had laid him out for so long. And he was not pleased with the situation he found himself in, to say the least.

“Ah, the gallant hero speaks up at last,” Matthews sneered. “Though not much of a hero, to be caught and reeled in so easily.”

“Let me loose, and I'll show you how hard it is to bring me down,” Cannon retorted with an effort at defiant bravado, starting to rise from his chair...only to be forced back down into it by one of the red-clad thugs guarding him.

“I think not,” the villain said simply. He finished his glass of wine and plucked the glass from his metallic hand with his organic one, setting it down upon a nearby table. “Well, shall we get started?”

“A question first, if you please,” Shadowvixen asked politely. “Why are you doing this? With all your obvious wealth, what compels you to live like this, associating with criminal elements“ – she indicated the anarchists with a toss of her chin – “and inflicting such misery and pain upon innocent others?”

The Torturer turned a dark gaze upon his lovely captive. “There are no ‘innocent’ others, Miss Vixen,” he grated. “There are only sinners! All of us are, including you and I! Unlike the vast majority of the lost souls of this world, however, I choose to not only recognize my sinfulness, but to revel in it.”

“It hasn’t seemed to hurt you any,” Cannon quipped. “You live in the lap of luxury.”

“Oh, but Mister Cannon, I have been hurt! Or are you even more blind than I am?” the villain said scathingly as he held up both of his hands – one metallic, one horribly scarred – to frame his eye-patched face. “Yes, I live well, and I do enjoy the trappings of wealth, as you can see. But it has come at a terrible cost to me, and to many others. Yet, the cost has been itself well worth it.” He began pacing around the room as he explained further.

“Greed was my first vice; sheer unadulterated avarice. There never seemed to be enough, and what I could not acquire legally, I gained in violation of the law. Employers placed their trust in me, and I embezzled thousands from them. I gained the confidence of investors, and swindled tens of thousands from their pocketbooks. I blackmailed corrupt politicians and captains of industry, and received hundreds of thousands in cash and stock options. So clever was I that I deemed it impossible that anyone could stop me...until that day when I went too far, and ruined a powerful family, who poured their last resources into gaining their revenge upon me.” Matthews gestured at his injuries. “These old scars are only those you can see on the surface, compared to the suffering they put me through, before leaving me to die.”

“Too bad they didn't make sure of the job,” Cannon griped, earning a swift fist across the jaw from the large anarchist standing next to him.

“Oh, it was too bad, Mister Cannon – for them, in the end. But in a way, that night was an epiphany. In one extended moment of agonizing torment, I realized at last just how much my sinfulness had caused suffering and misery for so many others. And in that moment, I knew that was my purpose for existing!” the diabolical villain exclaimed with the fervor of a zealot.

“As the Buddha said so perceptively, this frail mortal existence ultimately consists of nothing but pain and suffering! Until that first truth is fully understood, no progress – either spiritual or secular – can really be made. It is the eternal lesson which Mankind must re-learn, over and over, in every generation. It is the lesson which I have had seared into me, mind, body, and soul,” he indicated with yet another wave at his injuries. “And it is the lesson that I have deemed is my task to teach to everyone in this great City, both individually and collectively.”

Shadowvixen reacted with her own moment of self-realization. “All the recent upsurge in crime, then; the increasing labor unrest; the political strife and corruption; the general disruptions of orderly society we've seen of late...” She looked at him with sudden understanding. “You're the one that's been behind it all, haven't you?”

The Torturer shrugged modestly. “Not entirely, my dear. There remain many in this City who do quite a good job of promoting those things on their own, for their own reasons. I suspect you've already encountered several of them,” he assumed. “What I do is to selectively add my own talents and resources to accentuate the pain and suffering that lead to revealed Truth! So I corrupt and blackmail public officials in order to undermine faith in elected government; finance radical labor organizers to inflame the struggle between proletariat and bourgeoisie; encourage all sorts of crime, unrest, violence, and disaster; and help organize the trade of alcohol and illicit drugs, for in the suffering of the addicted is seen the road to revelation. And, if I could, I would have this 'World War' now raging an ocean away spread everywhere, for never have so many died so horribly for so little! In their agony of wasted life and useless death, the soldiers of this generation pave the way for the coming day of true understanding...and the start of a New Order for all mankind,” he finished with a look of pure rapture upon his flawed features.

Shadowvixen and Cannon looked at one another in disbelief. This was something beyond mere villainy. What was being shown to them was true madness.

Finally, The Torturer sighed and came down from his ecstasy. “Of course, I cannot deny the fact that I also happen to enhance my own fortune in all these efforts. And, most of all, I occasionally get to enjoy the satisfaction of personally inflicting the revelatory euphoria of utmost torment upon certain individuals, such as Mister Winford Douglas of the Town Crier,” he said, indicating the editor sitting, listless and defeated, in one of the chairs. “And now, Miss Vixen and Mister Cannon...it's going to be your turn.”

ROUND FOUR
In the subterranean dungeon of The Torturer's secret lair – 9:20 PM

“You certainly know how to show a fellow a good time, Shadowvixen,” Nick Cannon said as he once again tugged at the manacles about his wrists, a gesture as futile as it had been the last dozen times he'd tried it.

“It seems I do have a knack for finding the more interesting places in this town,” the disguised damsel remarked ruefully, looking about the small cell in which she, Cannon, and Winford Douglas had been locked up. Each of them had been shackled to one stone wall by their wrists and waists, with the only female in the room situated between her two male companions and facing the iron-reinforced wooden door, which had been bolted shut when their guards left them. A single dim overhead electric light bulb provided the only luminescence in the 10' x 10' chamber. Shadowvixen's pistols had been confiscated, as had Cannon's Luger and his overcoat and hat. His tuxedo jacket had been left to him, though – which meant the concealed microfilm of German war plans was still safe, for now – and she'd retained the utility belt slung about her hips, no doubt because there was no way for her to access it.

“What do you suppose Matthews has in mind for us?” Shadowvixen asked Cannon with the light voice of bravado as she looked over at him.

“Whatever it is, it's certainly not going to be inviting us to Sunday brunch,” the secret agent replied, giving her a wry grin. “In any case, I'm not for sticking around. Are you?”

“Not in the least!” the heroine agreed.

“But it's hopeless,” Douglas said defeatedly. “I've been trapped in this God-awful place for days, Shadowvixen, and there's just no way out – at least, none he's willing to show.”

She started just a bit at the phrasing of his words. “That might just be the answer, then...” she mused.

“What is?” Cannon asked.

The cloaked crusader shook her head. “Later,” she said. “I don't want to say anything more while that vile monster is probably listening in on us.”

Her handsome ally nodded in understanding. “Besides, a woman needs to keep some secrets, eh?” he said jokingly with a wink.

“Of course,” she answered innocently...and gave him a smile of appreciation.

They might be prisoners facing a dark fate, but the fight hadn't been taken out of them yet!

 


(the Dungeon is a Spontaneous Location; all conflict list entries will be generated by Mythic)

World – Round 4, Turn 1
Access FR as 5H, use FB as 5C – Thing, Concrete / Expose / Prison (High Impact); activate Shadowvixen's Disadvantage: Second-Class Citizen, as a woman, faces prejudice (Low Impact)
Interpretation: Something or Someone opens the cell door and menaces our Heroine!
What is the Thing? (Complex) – Starting / Danger
Interpretation: It is The Torturer's chief assistant, come to begin the prisoners' torment.
Is it a man? (Very Likely) – Yes
Using the Creature Crafter tables, what does this person look like? – Tusks; Horns/Antlers
Interpretation: He is wearing a hideous animal mask to hide his features.

Just then, a loud noise interrupted the heroes' conversations. Someone had unbolted the door to their cell! All three occupants tensed as the door opened slowly to reveal who it was.

It was a black man, lithe and powerful, his bare chest showing well-defined musculature. Red trousers were tucked into black boots, and both a bullwhip and a long knife were on his belt, as well as a ring of keys. Most intimidating and weird of all, though, was the headpiece he wore. It was a macabre cross of wild boar and antelope, savage brown eyes glaring over curved tusks, and wavy pointed antlers making him seem taller than he really was.

“I am The Damnable One. I am the one who will take each of you to your doom,” he told them in a heavy, muffled voice. “Make peace with your God now, for it is time to die...but not before you're taught a lesson, woman,” he said scathingly to Shadowvixen.

With that, he moved menacingly towards the shackled heroine....

Editorial Comment: Forgive the potentially racist overtones of the above scene, but I'm trying to write in the style of the early 20th-century pulps; and in the time frame of the adventure, the threat of a white woman being assaulted by a non-Caucasian man (of any ethnicity) would have been considered “beyond the pale”, worthy of a High or even Extreme Impact action scene. Fortunately, the Tableau enables the Hero Player to redeem the situation for our more modern (and civilized) sensibilities!

Hero – Round 4, Turn 1
Access 1S, use FR and FB as additional Spade cards – Shadowvixen, Ally in Spades; the intruder is actually a friend of hers, who has come to her rescue! (High Impact)
Is this man a genuine Hero? (Unlikely) – No
How has Shadowvixen befriended him? (Complex) – Guide / A Plot
Interpretation: She planned and executed his escape from a group of would-be modern slavers, placing him in her debt. Now he's come to repay the favor!

“Keep away from her, you brute!” Cannon angrily cried, trying to kick at the masked enemy in the confined space of the cell. But the intruder evaded the spy's efforts with ease, and he closed in on the lovely young girl in the black mask, who refused to flinch at his approach...because she'd recognized him by the JB tattoo on his right forearm.

“You can't frighten me, Jack Brown...you roguish rascal!” she said to him with a smile that grew wide and sunny. “What in Heaven's name are you doing here?!”

Cannon's eyes nearly boggled out of his skull. “You know him?!?” he asked incredulously.

Shadowvixen nodded. “One of the best second-and-third-story men in The City, though I hope he's gone straight,” she answered. “I helped him get away from an illegal slavery ring a few months ago, and he's been good enough to help me on a couple of occasions since. But I've never been as thankful to see him as I am right now!” She turned back to Brown. “How did you even know I was here, and in trouble?!”

The African-American took off his mask, revealing a dark, good-looking face that bore a toothy grin which showed gold upper canines. “I happened to be sitting in the alley, hiding from those police who came by, when I saw you and your man here,” indicating Cannon, “fall out of sight. Knew you'd be in the thick of trouble, so I slipped in when someone came out to toss out the trash.” He quickly used his keys to release her from her bonds. “Had to skulk around really careful-like, and it wasn't easy. Finally found the fellow who wore these things – another black man, like me, as it turned out – and since he looked mean, nasty, and important, I didn't mind bashing his head in to get them for myself.”

“I think I can guess the rest,” the female detective said. “You donned his get-up, kept quiet, and when it came time for 'The Damnable One' to fetch the prisoners, you did.” She chuckled. “Oh, is our villainous host going to be peeved when he finds out!”

“Which hopefully ain't going to be for a while,” Brown told her. “But we gotta move quick!” He gave her one of two keys on his ring, and together they hastened to free her comrades. Within moments, they'd been released and were standing in a narrow passageway outside the cell. Shadowvixen patted her empty holsters. “Now, if I only had my pistols, I'd feel like my old self again.”

Brown grinned, and produced three guns from the pockets of his baggy red trousers. “Here you are! Found ‘em when I put these on. I guess he'd been given them to put away somewhere.”

Shadowvixen's eyes lit up, and she took her matched Colts and twirled them happily. “Serendipity is a woman's best friend, next to diamonds!” the heroine exclaimed to Cannon.

The spy checked his Luger, confirming it was still loaded, and primed the magazine. “It's a secret agent's, too,” he admitted, and held out his hand to shake Brown's dark one. “Thanks, friend. You just did the Secret Service a heck of a favor! I won't forget it, either.”

“Aw, don't mention it!” the skillful thief told him. “Now, let's get outta here!”

“Amen,” Douglas agreed, hope high in his chest for the first time in days.

World – Round 4, Turn 2
Access 4H, Use FB as 4C, FR as another 4H – Being, Mysterious / Divide / Reality (Extreme Impact); use the two 4H's to activate Shadowvixen's Disadvantage: Selfless (Moderate Impact)
Interpretation: The Torturer, learning of Brown's deception, warps the thief's perception of things and causes him to flee, forcing Shadowvixen to go after him and leave the others behind.

“I'd better put this back on,” Brown said, indicating his headpiece. “That way, if anybody asks, they'll think I'm leading you somewhere.” With that, he put the ghastly animal mask upon his head...and let out an equally ghastly shriek. He grasped the sides of his head as if he was in intense pain.

“Jack!” Shadowvixen cried, afraid for her rescuer. But he never heard her voice. It was another's that commanded his attention through the suddenly dim veil of his consciousness.

“Did you really think you had deceived me, Jack Brown?” Xavier Matthews hissed into his very brain somehow. “You are truly a fool for believing that – and for believing so many other things besides! Behold! Witness what the world truly is...and despair!”

Suddenly, the world as reported by his senses was twisted by The Torturer beyond Brown's comprehension. The corridor literally corkscrewed, swirling colors and lights filling his vision. Disoriented, he turned around, facing his companions – only they weren't the people he'd seen only a moment ago! They appeared as wavering images of tortured souls, crying out in pain, bodies covered in welts, sores, cuts, and bruises, seemingly on the verge of death. And they were calling to him, beckoning him to join them in their misery....

In sheer panic and paranoia, his mind abused beyond reason, Jack Brown turned and fled, screaming, as fast as he could down the corridor, the flickering torchlight lighting his way down the twisted path that must be the way out, the way to safety – the way to sanity!

Shadowvixen watched him run away with sprinter's speed – though unsteadily, as he literally bounced off the walls – and reacted instantly, her concern for the man overwhelming any rational thoughts of caution. “Get Douglas to safety!” she called back to Cannon without turning her head, as she raced after her friend. She didn't dare leave him like this, in the very heart of a madman's lair!

Hero – Round 4, Turn 2
Access 10D, use FR as another 10D – Shadowvixen, Detective (Moderate Impact)

As she sped after the delusional man in the grotesque mask, Shadowvixen wondered anxiously what had caused him to react as he did. Clearly, something in the mask had been triggered just as he'd put it on – but what?

Then, as she caught sight of him up ahead – and closer now, as the dark-garbed damsel was proving faster than the agile but disoriented thief – she saw something unnoticed earlier. Something thin but flexible coming out of the top of the headpiece's antlers, which glistened with reflected light.

Antenna wires! she recognized. So that's it! We know Matthews is a genius with electrical devices, such as those metal men, and he's wired this whole place to listen in upon our conversations and speak to us. Why couldn't he transmit a signal that would make a man go mad upon command? But if that's the case, then I've got a chance to save Jack before he literally runs into big trouble!

World – Round 4, Turn 3
Access FB as 2C, Use FR as 2C – Locale, Incidental / Magic / Attainment (Moderate Impact)
Interpretation: The Torturer's illusions make Jack think he's about to escape, but he's really about to fall into a trap.

Then, through the insanity permeating his brain, Brown saw salvation appear ahead of him in the distance. A glowing door, through which a figure in white stood firm, greeting him with open arms. It was his beloved Betty, whom he'd lost years ago in a storm!

“Jack! Come to me, darling! It's been so long....” she cooed into his ear from fifty yards away.

With overwhelming joy in his heart, he rushed forward to be with his sweetheart. So focused was he on her lovely vision, that even had The Torturer's other illusions not been working, Jack Brown would never have noticed the pit opening ahead of him. At the bottom of its ten-foot drop, steel spikes prepared to receive another victim....

Hero – Round 4, Turn 3
Access FB as QS – Shadowvixen, Special FX: Sure Shot, can fire her guns with amazing accuracy (Extreme Impact)

Shadowvixen couldn't possibly see what was running through Jack's mind, but she could see that he was about to run right into a pitfall that – knowing the maniac behind this madhouse – would probably end his life! She couldn't catch up to him in time to stop him, either!

“Only one chance,” she whispered.

Sliding to a sudden stop, the masked heroine's hands moved with lightning speed. Drawing her pistols from their holsters, she aimed not so much by sight as by practiced instinct, for there was no time for anything else. As one, the matched pair of M1911's spoke with a roar of thunder.

Faster than any human eye could see, the two .45 caliber bullets sheared the horns off of the headpiece, in the process severing the connection between the two antennae and the signal that was being blasted into Brown's mind. At once, the visions that had beckoned to him vanished, replaced by a unending shriek of radio static that stunned him and brought him to a stop – mere feet from the edge of the deadly drop.

Falling to his knees, Brown was incapacitated, unable to do anything. But his anguish only lasted until Shadowvixen hastened to his side, pulled the ghastly animal head off, and threw it into the pit. She kneeled by her friend. “Jack? Jack, are you all right?”

Slowly, he pulled his mind back together and faced her inquiring and anxious blue eyes. “Y-yeah, I...I think so.” The African-American shuddered. “What...what happened? It all seemed so...real,” he said with a choked sob.

“I'm afraid it was only an illusion, Jack,” she answered. “Some wireless signal to make you think something other than what your eyes and ears reported. We're dealing with a twisted, evil genius here, friend. And it's time we got you away from him, as quickly as we can.”

World – Round 4, Turn 4
Access 10D – Locale, Deliberate / Fight / The Public (Extreme Impact); activate Shadowvixen's Heroic Disadvantage: Hunted, is pursued by a police inspector (Low Impact); use FR as a 10H to activate her Disadvantage: Second-Class Citizen (Low Impact).
Interpretation: The Torturer challenges Shadowvixen's perception of herself through illusions of public condemnation of her actions.

“Oh, you can't get away from me so easily, my dear,” the sinister image of Xavier Matthews said derisively from an illuminated doorway that had silently slid open twenty feet away, past the pitfall that had so nearly claimed Jack Brown's life. “You think of yourself as a heroic crusader, I'm sure – a crimefighter and a help to those the police cannot.”

He laughed shrilly.

“Foolish female! If only you knew how the public really thinks of you! In fact,” he said, switching to a sweet, bewitching tone of voice, “let me show you what they think.”

Suddenly, it was Shadowvixen's turn to be assailed with unreality that seemed all too real.

In a swirling montage, she found herself in the dock of a great courtroom, facing her accusers.

Her parents appeared before her, ghostly images from beyond the veil – voicing their disapproval. Their darling daughter, whom they'd hoped would be an artist or singer, chasing after criminals and consorting with the worst evils imaginable! Scandalous! A true Sherwood would never have fallen so low!

“No,” an anguished little Jennifer Sherwood whispered. “No, daddy...mama. Please...”

Her great-uncle, Edward Masterson, took over the inquisition. Accusing her of betraying all he had worked for in building his publishing empire. That she wasn't worthy, a mere woman, to command such wealth, only to squander it in fruitless “reform” efforts!

“No, please understand,” an adult Jennifer Sherwood pleaded. “I'm trying...”

Other fathers, mothers, sons and daughters appeared to mock her efforts, saying they had suffered and died while she was cavorting after her fantasy of being a costumed hero. How dare she put her pride before their lives and livelihoods?!

“No,” Shadowvixen sobbed, tears beginning to stream down her face.

Inspector Ahab Gunderson of the Metropolitan Police appeared before her, along with every other law enforcement officer in The City. Condemning her for mocking their efforts to serve and protect, making them seem like incompetent fools. She was the incompetent one! She was the amateur! She was the one who deserved to be unmasked and locked up, as the danger to the populace she truly was!

“NOOOOOO!!!” Shadowvixen cried aloud in tearful despair, blind and deaf to Jack Brown's insistent shaking and pleading, as the whole world turned against her and all she'd worked so hard to become....

Hero – Round 4, Turn 4
Access FR as KH – Cannon, Special FX: Intuitive Savant, can infallibly determine the correct course of action in any situation. (Extreme Impact)

At that moment, Nick Cannon came racing around the corner of the corridor, with Winford Douglas behind him struggling to keep up. The American spy had heard Shadowvixen's cry of utter woe, and he feared the worst. And no man worth the title of “Special Agent, U.S. Secret Service,” could possibly leave such a courageous damsel in such obvious distress!

He ran forward, and ahead of him, he saw the dark-cloaked woman sobbing in the arms of Jack Brown, who was trying awkwardly to comfort her. But she was ignoring him – trapped as she was in the grip of The Torturer's maniacal spell.

And there HE was, grinning with evil pleasure at the pain and suffering she was experiencing, drinking it all in like it was the very life-force that kept him going. As long as HE was there, she would never be safe!

That was all it took for Nick Cannon to act, as he so often did – on instinct. In this case, an instinct fueled by his own hatred and frustration at what he himself had suffered at the hands of this villain, and by his desire to save a fair and valiant lady.

The secret agent stopped, drew his P08 Parabellum, and emptied the pistol into the body of Xavier Matthews.

At once, the image of The Torturer shattered into a thousand crystalline shards, as the special three-dimensional projection mirror was pierced by 9mm bullets! Behind it, an exotic radio set shorted out in a spectacular display of electrical fireworks as the shells made a hash of its sensitive vacuum-tubed interior.

And as the source of the villain's illusions was destroyed, the visions abruptly disappeared from the mind of a certain young woman, who was left crying from a kind of pain she'd never expected when she first donned a mask to begin her secretive double life.

World – Round 4, Turn 5
Access 1S, use FR as 1H, use FB as 1C – Being, Aggressive / Oppose / War (High Impact)
Interpretation: Someone appears, who is a foreign enemy
Oh, there's only one person this could be – Heinrich Prinz, the Kaiser's top agent!
The question is, is he alone? (Unlikely) – Exceptional Yes!
Interpretation: Not only is he alone, The Torturer apparently doesn't even know Prinz is here!
Does he know of a way out? (A Near Sure Thing) – Yes
Is he willing to help Cannon and the others escape if Cannon gives him the film? (Likely) – Yes
Is he planning to double-cross our Heroes? (Very Likely) – Exceptional Yes!
What's exceptional about his double-cross? (Complex) – Recruit / Evil
Interpretation: Not only is he going to turn them over to The Torturer; he's going to try to enlist the villain into helping the German cause!
NOTE: The World Player keeps that last bit to himself at this time. He figures the double-cross need not take place during this Action Scene, but in a later one, when the time is most appropriate!

There came an incongruous sound then. The sound of soft applause.

From around the corner of the shattered mirror stepped the figure of a man – not the man any of them had expected, but to Nick Cannon, someone almost as unwelcome and despised.

“Well played, Herr Cannon,” said Heinrich Prinz, chief foreign agent for Kaiser Wilhelm II.

“How the devil did you get down here, Prinz?” the American spy asked incredulously, keeping his Luger trained on his German adversary.

“Oh, Herr Cannon,” Prinz said reproachfully. “You of all people should know how important it is to keep one's secrets a secret. However,” he continued, “I am willing to share my secret with you...provided that you return a certain secret to me.”

Nick Cannon stood erect to his full height. “You know I can't do that.”

The German agent clucked and shook his head. “Herr Cannon, you are trapped in the underground lair of one of your country's most evil men – and one, I might add, that has encouraged some little trouble in my own nation, as well. You have no knowledge of the way out of this place, and no idea of what dangers may yet await you and your friends, should you attempt to escape on your own. I, on the other hand, can lead you to safety...if you will only give me what I ask.”

“I could just shoot you, you know,” Cannon retorted.

“I doubt it. Your Luger is empty; I counted the shots,” Prinz calmly replied.

Winford Douglas looked up at Cannon. “He's right. We need to get out of here. If this here Hun knows the way, I say we take him up on his offer!”

The Secret Service agent looked back at Douglas. “You don't know what he's asking for. It's too important to hand over to him.”

“Secrets be damned!” Douglas cried. “Look at us! We've got no chance against this 'Torturer' fellow, not with the way he can twist people's minds! For God's sake, give him what he wants!!”

“Do as your comrade suggests, Herr Cannon,” Prinz softly added. “For the sake of the poor Fraulein before you, if nothing else.”

“You really expect me to believe you'll help us escape?” Cannon argued hotly. “Why not just shoot us now with that silenced Luger you always carry?”

It was now Prinz’s turn to straighten up proudly. “Herr Cannon, it may come as a surprise to you, but I do not necessarily enjoy my task as an 'enforcer' for His Imperial Majesty. I have no desire to kill you or your companions when there is no reason to. You have earned my respect, and even admiration, for pulling off one of the greatest intelligence coups in history, and getting so close to accomplishing your mission. There is no shame in admitting defeat, and I assure you, all I want is the film. Surrender it, and you live to fight another day. Refuse, and I leave you here, to die at the hands of one of the most sadistic men in the world. Choose wisely, I beg you.”

Nick Cannon looked down at Shadowvixen, who was slowly pulling herself back together again after Matthews' relentless psychological assault. Jack Brown, who was holding her steady, was himself not fully back to normal after his own experiences. Winford Douglas had been in The Torturer's clutches for three full days, and could hardly be expected to be of much help in a fight.

And Cannon had an empty Luger, with twelve feet of steel-barbed death to leap over to get to Prinz.

It didn't take long to make his decision.

Hero – Round 4, Turn 5
Access 4H, use FR as another Heart – Cannon, Bricoleur (Moderate Impact)

“All right, Prinz, you win,” Nick Cannon said heavily.

He reached inside his tuxedo jacket and pulled out the small canister of film. Holding it up for the German agent to see, he said, “Cover up the pit first, and I'll bring it to you.”

Prinz quirked an eyebrow. “I can trust you to hand it over without you trying to throttle me?”

“I'm willing to trust you not to shoot me. You're the one with the loaded gun, aren't you?”

Prinz smiled and pulled the cocked Luger from behind his back to point at Cannon's heart. “True. Very well, then.” He reached over with his free hand to pull up a lever, and the trap door was pulled back up into place and locked, providing a safe traverse across the once-deadly space.

Cannon stepped forward and, with Brown's help, pulled the heroine to her feet. “Are you all right, Shadowvixen?” he asked her with tender concern.

The young woman before him stirred at the name. Yes, she was Shadowvixen, wasn't she? She was not a frightened, orphaned little girl, or a presumptuous lady of means, or a failure as a publisher, or an egotistical woman living out a fantasy life. She'd saved lives, defeated evil, stopped criminals, and exposed the corrupt. The vicious illusions Xavier Matthews had planted so powerfully in her mind – illusions that had somehow tapped into her own unconscious doubts and fears – were quickly fading, replaced by even stronger memories. Memories of doting parents, a loving uncle, the caring housekeepers who formed her surrogate family, a supportive managing editor, and the grateful expressions of those she'd helped in various ways, in both of her dual identities. She scrubbed her eyes with a gloved hand, took a deep breath, and nodded, looking up gratefully into Cannon's anxious eyes.

“Yes...yes, I'll be all right now, Nick,” she told him, using his first name for the first time. “Thank you for rescuing me. Just…don't let that monster get into your head. It's not a very pleasant experience.”

“You can say that again,” Jack Brown agreed vehemently, shaking his own head as if to clear it of The Torturer's vestigial influences.

“Okay, then, let's go. We're getting out of here, finally. Prinz here knows a way, and apparently our 'host' doesn't know of it.”

Shadowvixen looked over at the covert assassin dubiously. “German agent,” she said without hesitation. “Don't tell me you're giving him the plans?”

“I'm afraid we don't have a lot of choice. I don't like it any more than you do,” Cannon said. “All I can say is, I'm sorry...and trust me.”

She looked up into his dark eyes with her brilliant blue ones – and in an instant, understood.

“I trust you, Mister Cannon,” the heroine told him.

The Torturer’s four prisoners quickly crossed the trap door and approached Prinz as he kept them covered with his pistol. Nick Cannon stopped three feet from him, held out the small canister, and put it into Prinz's outstretched hand. The German agent's fingers closed greedily around the most valuable secret his country had ever lost, and placed it securely inside his vest.

Little did he know that, in reaching into his jacket pocket, Cannon had slipped the precious negatives out of their container, and so they remained nestled close to the American spy's beating heart.

Prinz gave them all a very satisfied look. “And now, Fraulein und Herren, if you will kindly step this way, we will take our leave of Doctor Matthews' abode and retire to more...congenial surroundings.”
 
Round Five – Preliminary Questions from the Hero Player

I'm not sure where to take things from here, since I don't know what Prinz really has in mind for Our Heroes. Is he going to keep his word, or not? The World Player's last turn suggested that he would, but he's Cannon's arch-enemy, too. Also, these are supposed to be “bounce-back” Rounds for the Heroes, and I don’t want to make things too difficult for them to overcome.

I think I'll ask Mythic to help set up the next Location. I ask the World Player if that’s okay, and he says he's cool with that, since the ending of the last scene I wrote was so open-ended.

Will Prinz actually lead Our Heroes out of the Lair? (50/50) – Exceptional Yes!
Interpretation: He's not only going to lead them to safety, he's going to fete them! What a guy!
Where will he take them? (Complex) – Judge / The Mundane
Interpretation: To a location where they can discuss more trivial matters at their ease.
Does the public know of the place he's taking them? (No Way) – Yes (09)
What the heck?! Okay, what kind of public place is it? (Complex) – Abuse / Masses
Interpretation: I can think of only one place that makes sense of this combination. After all, where else would the masses flock to in the early 1900's to witness “abuse”, especially at this time of night?

ROUND FIVE
Hamilton Square Gardens, 800 N. 14th Street; title bout for the world middleweight championship between Hans Krauthammer and Joe Jackson, Jr., 10th round of 12 scheduled; paid attendance, approximately 9,800 spectators – 11:00 PM

As nearly ten thousand throats roared their encouragement, approval, reproach, and excitement, two men – one an immigrant from Hamburg, the other a scrappy kid from the Bronx – circled around a canvas-covered apron 20' x 20' square, trying to beat each other into submission.

High above, in one of Hamilton Square Garden's darkened private boxes, four very unusual guests watched the proceedings with varying levels of engagement.

One of them, the daredevil damsel known as Shadowvixen, observed the bout with great interest. She'd never been to a prize fight before, and the two boxers' dance of jabs, feints, crosses, and uppercuts was very unlike the practiced precision of the karate that old Kurosawa had taught her.

Beside her stood a large, powerful man in a gray chauffeur’s uniform. The German driver was both keeping a close watch on the crimefighter – an easy task, given her remarkable beauty and charisma – and instructing her, in slightly stilted English, on the finer points of the manly art of self-defense. He'd been a heavyweight fighter at one time, before entering the Kaiser's service.

And off to one side, Nick Cannon and Heinrich Prinz sat next to one another in comfortable chairs, with two bottles of fine Scotch malt between them, and talked shop.

“So the Russians botched the attack because someone’s mistress whispered a lie into the right ears, eh? So much for relying on 'pillow talk'!” the American spy remarked ruefully.

“Alas, too true. It is a cautionary tale you should take to heart, Herr Cannon,” his German host gently chided. “Our file on you indicates you have quite a charming effect on the ladies, but you shouldn't rely on them. They are as fickle as the weather, and twice as stormy.”

Cannon laughed, something he hadn't done in days. It was amazing. Just hours earlier, he'd been running for his life from this man, the Kaiser's most dangerous assassin, who was after the war plans the Yankee agent had stolen. The last thing he'd ever expected was for Heinrich Prinz to be his rescuer from an even worse adversary!

Yet that was exactly what had happened. As he'd promised, the master 'enforcer' of the Imperial Intelligence Service had led Cannon, Shadowvixen, editor Winford Douglas of the City Town Crier, and good-guy thief Jack Brown out of the deadly lair of Doctor Xavier Matthews – the sadistic 'Torturer'. He'd used an underground secret passage that apparently not even Matthews had known about, one that spirited them away to a German-American tavern which had conveniently just closed.

In fact, it was all too convenient, the Secret Service man thought. There's something going on between those two villains, and I'd better find out what it is – once the plans are safely in Washington.

Still, whatever connection existed between Heinrich Prinz and The Torturer hadn't led the German to betray them, as Cannon had confidently expected. On the contrary! His chauffeured touring car had been waiting to return him to the German Consulate, but Prinz was feeling magnanimous tonight, given the fact that he thought his mission was accomplished. He'd dropped both Brown and Douglas off at their homes, with warnings not to divulge anything of what they'd seen or heard this evening. Both men willingly agreed; who would have ever believed their story, anyway?!

Then, to Cannon's and Shadowvixen's utter surprise, he'd invited them – sans weapons, of course – to join him in this private box to witness the final rounds of this championship bout for the world middleweight crown. The man was apparently a boxing aficionado; and he wanted, at least for one night, to put away the cares of his work and converse with a professional equal as a colleague, rather than as a target. And it turned out that Prinz was quite the conversationalist, with a sharp sense of humor and excellent taste in beverages.

The crowd roared suddenly, drawing both spies' attention to the prize fight as Krauthammer went down under a flurry of punches from Jackson. The referee began to count, but the bell rang to end the round before he could reach the number “five”. Both men retired to their corners, exhausted and battered, but with the Deutsch-born boxer having the worse of the match.

“Ah, good for him. It would be a shame if he were defeated,” Prinz remarked, watching.

“Bad omen for your country?” Cannon asked teasingly.

“I don't believe in such things,” his host replied tersely. “But having a champion of any sort would be a boost to morale back home. To be frank, we could use it.”

“Oh?” Cannon asked casually. “I thought the war was going all right for you Krauts, especially in the East.”

“Ja,” Prinz said, “but the West remains deadlocked, and promises to remain such. And that is where the war will be won or lost. Hence our keen desire to retrieve a certain bit of film that was, until recently, in your possession, Herr Cannon,” he added with a slight note of triumph in his voice.

The American shrugged. “I don't really see why, to be honest. The way the public and the president are, it's unlikely we'd ever get involved over there.”

“'Unlikely' does not mean 'impossible',” the German retorted. “And had your government and military known of my country's plans, it might actually have increased your leaders' willingness to engage us more aggressively. As it stands now, however, we have only restored the status quo, which may or may not be enough to swing the chances of victory in Germany's favor.” Prinz gave his guest a rueful smirk. “One against many is not good odds.”

At that moment, another roar came from the crowd. Krauthammer's corner had thrown in the towel; he'd had enough. Jackson raised his arms in triumph, as the bell sounded ending the fight and flash powder went off around the boxing ring, signaling the making of photographs that would wind up in tomorrow's newspapers.

Shadowvixen applauded the scene, with the chauffeur doing likewise beside her. Prinz and Cannon watched her for a brief moment, then the former gave the latter a mischievous wink. “Remember what I said, Herr Cannon. Unpredictable and stormy,” he said.

“There's nothing between us, Prinz,” Cannon replied softly so the heroine wouldn't hear. “I only just met her tonight, and not under the best of circumstances, either. And I'm going to Washington tomorrow.”

“Since when has that stopped you, comrade?” the German agent asked him with a wide smile.

To that, the American made no reply....

NOTE: The World Player here initiates a dispute over the Hero Player describing how Winford Douglas, the heroine's temporary DNPC Disadvantage, had been removed from play without an Action Scene from her explaining it. The Hero Player points out that no such condition had been established; it was only said that the DNPC would be removed from play “once [Douglas] was safe,” meaning “out of The Torturer's clutches.” The Hero Player argues that Shadowvixen would have insisted on Douglas being taken home at the first opportunity, and suggests that neither Cannon nor Prinz would have wanted the editor to hear anything more than he already has. The World Player accepts the Hero Player's logic, and play resumes.
 



(Hamilton Square Gardens, and the surrounding area, is a new Spontaneous Location; once again, all conflict list entries will be generated by Mythic)

World – Round 5, Turn 1
Access 8H – Thing, Concrete / Agree / Pleasures (High Impact)
Interpretation: Someone or Something comes along to share in the festivities
Is it The Torturer, come to converse with Herr Prinz? (Very Likely) – Yes
Will he confront the Heroes at this time? (Very Unlikely) – Exceptional No!
Interpretation: He will wait until they have left the premises altogether before appearing.

“Well, I believe this is farewell, then,” Prinz said to his guests. He offered his hand to Nick Cannon. “I salute you on a valiant effort, Herr Cannon. I hope we do not meet again until after this war is over, and then, only on friendly terms.”

Cannon took the hand and shook it. “Same here, Prinz. But if we wind up enemies again, know that I'll only give you my best shot.”

“Of course. I would expect – and deliver myself – nothing less!” the German agent said with well-earned bravado. He then turned to Shadowvixen. “Auf wiedersehen, Fraulein SchattenFüchsin,” Prinz said to the vigilantess, kissing her gloved hand. “It was an honor to have aided such a lovely lady as yourself.”

She smiled kindly at her unusually gracious host. “I can only hope all of the Kaiser's spies are as gallant and honorable, Herr Prinz,” Shadowvixen replied sweetly. “Speaking of which...may Mister Cannon and I have our weapons back now?”

Prinz nodded to the chauffeur, who retrieved a black case from a locked closet. Removing both Cannon's Luger and Shadowvixen's Colts, he unloaded them, latched the safeties, and then handed them to the two American heroes. He also handed to her the gray utility belt she’d surrendered earlier.

“There is, as you know from arriving here, a private elevator that can take you to the basement level without being seen by the crowds,” Prinz told them. “From there, I have no doubt you can make your way to wherever you call home.”

Shadowvixen and Cannon exchanged a glance, then spoke as one. “We'll take the stairs, thanks.”

Some minutes later, long after his guests had left, Heinrich Prinz received another one in the private box. He turned to greet the newcomer. “Welcome, Doctor Matthews,” he said.

“I do wish you had let me finish them off,” The Torturer told him with a sigh of disappointment as he removed his top hat with his scarred hand.

“I know you do,” the Kaiser's top “eliminator” replied. “But if you had, we might have lost the film in the process. It was important to get it back intact.”

“And did you?”

Prinz took out the container and handed it to the sinister doctor. “See for yourself.”

Matthews did so, popping the small cylinder open and looking inside. “It's empty!” he exclaimed.

Prinz nodded. “Of course it is. Cannon still has the plans in his possession. He used slight-of-hand to remove the film before handing the canister to me, thinking I wouldn't suspect.”

Matthews looked at him with incomprehension. “You mean, you knew he had the plans all along? And you let him GO?!”

“Naturally,” the most skilled government assassin in all Europe told him smoothly. “After all, there is little satisfaction in the kill if one does not play with the mice first. Is there?”

The Torturer looked at Heinrich Prinz stonily for a moment...then, slowly, an evil grin spread across the master villain's damaged face.

“You are a man after my own sadistic heart, Herr Prinz,” he said. “Our deal stands, then?”

“Ja. We cooperate to retrieve the film. I get to kill Cannon, while you take possession of the woman. And you agree to be our agent in America, sabotaging every effort to bring this country into the war…”

“…in exchange for one million American dollars deposited into a certain Swiss bank account,” the diabolical doctor finished. Prinz nodded. Matthews' smile grew still wider, and he poured himself a glass of the Scotch malt for himself and Prinz. Offering one of the glasses to the spy, he raised the other in a toast.

“To a beautiful partnership!”

Hero – Round 5, Turn 1
Access 6D, Use 1D – Shadowvixen, Detective (Moderate Impact)

In the sub-basement levels of the Gardens, Shadowvixen led Nick Cannon amid the pipes and machinery that supplied the facility with electricity, water, and sewage disposal.

“You know where you're going?” Cannon asked her.

“You needn't worry. I've memorized every access tunnel and where they lead, from the lower City to the upper suburbs,” she replied confidently. The dark-garbed heroine looked back at him, her flashlight shining small but brightly. “Do you still have the plans?”

The Secret Service agent patted his tuxedo jacket. “Safe and sound,” he told her with a smile.

“Do you think he knows?”

“If not by now, he will very soon. In which case, I'll be on the run again.”

“You mean, we'll be on the run,” she corrected meaningfully.

He stopped for a moment to look at her. “Shadowvixen – please don't misunderstand me. I owe you a lot for what you've done for me, and for your country, tonight. But this isn't your responsibility. It's mine, and I've got to see it through.”

She turned on a dime and crossed her arms, looking at him sternly from the shadows. “Mister Cannon, I may work outside the law, but I'm still very much a patriot. Given what I know, and who is after you, and what is at stake, there is no way that I can simply abandon this case. Whether you want it or not, I'm your partner until those plans get to the War Department, so you'd better get used to that fact!” Shadowvixen asserted. Then she gave him a knowing grin. “Besides, before dropping into Matthews’ maze, we were on our way to a little hiding-hole I know of, and I'd hate for you to miss seeing it,” she said coyly.

Her companion gave her a raised eyebrow that mingled surprise and uncertainty, to which she responded with a sly look before continuing to lead him onward. As she did, Cannon started a new line of conversation.

“What I want to know is just why did Prinz show up in Matthews' lair right then? It was almost like he was waiting for us,” he said sourly.

“That's because he was, I'm sure,” Shadowvixen answered. “The two of them are working together.”

The American spy chewed on that thought for a moment, and nodded. “I hate to say it, but I had the same thought. Prinz seems like a nice enough fellow, but I've heard stories about how sadistic he can be to enemy agents. He'd probably get along with that villain nicely.”

“No, Nick,” she told him, “it goes deeper than that. Think for a minute. Matthews is committed to spreading human misery and suffering; including, by his own admission, spreading the war if he could.”

“Right...” Cannon agreed, wondering where her train of thought was leading.

“And he's very good at what he does, wouldn't you agree?”

He nodded grimly, knowing full well what she meant.

“So if the United States goes to war with Germany, whom do you think the Kaiser’s spy office might turn to as their most effective agent of sabotage, espionage, and anarchy in this country – without it being tied back to them?”

Cannon stood straight up in shock at the horrible thought. “Oh...my...God!” he breathed.

Shadowvixen stopped and turned to look at him again from the entrance of the access tunnel she'd finally reached. “That's why you need my help, Nick. We're faced with an alliance of two of the biggest threats to our nation in America's entire history. The Torturer's twisted electronic genius, married to the Germans' relentless will to power?” She shuddered at the thought. “That combination of forces might be enough to not just conquer Europe and America, but the entire world!”

World – Round 5, Turn 2
Access 6D – Being, Passive / Persecute / Advice (Moderate Impact); Activate Shadowvixen’s Heroic Disadvantage: Hunted (Low Impact)
Interpretation: Inspector Ahab Gunderson arrives with several policemen, seeking to arrest the heroine!

Suddenly, an unwelcome sound came to Shadowvixen’s ears – the tromp of heavy feet stampeding down a distant stairwell, and an authoritative voice echoing through the subterranean chamber:

“I know you’re down here, you masked menace! Stay right where you are, woman; you’re under arrest!”

It was Inspector Ahab Gunderson, followed closely by a squad of policemen. And like his namesake from the novel, he was on a personal, obsessive quest to capture his nemesis – the frustratingly elusive vixen that had thwarted his dragnets time and time again. But this time, he had her cornered, he was sure of it! And soon, that mask would come off, and he’d find out who that damnable female was…before he sent her off to Redgate Prison for the next twenty years!

Hero – Round 5, Turn 2
Access 8H, Use 1H – Cannon, Bricoleur (Moderate Impact)

“Blast it!” the cloaked crusader whispered harshly. Of all the times for the Inspector to show up! Of course, someone must have spotted her and Cannon, and called the police at once. (Little did she realize that it was the German agent, Prinz, who’d done so.) He must have at least a dozen men with him!

Her handsome companion had come to the same conclusion, and quickly hit upon an unconventional solution. “Quick, knock me out!” Cannon told her.

“What?!?” Shadowvixen responded with astonishment.

“You heard me!” he hissed at her. “You’ve got to get away, and they’ll be delayed by tending to me. I doubt I’ll be any safer than in the local jail, and I can use my one phone call to contact Washington.” The tromp of approaching arrest became louder. Cannon looked over his shoulder, then turned back to make his final plea. “Please, don’t argue! Just do—“

And Shadowvixen gave him a savage blow across the jaw that the secret agent was completely unprepared for. He spun and crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

“Sorry, Nick, but you’re right,” she whispered with regret. Then she quickly bent down and left a soft kiss upon his cheek. “Au revoir, mon cher,” the vigilantess said to him, though he could never have heard her endearing voice. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, she spun and sprinted down the access tunnel, locking the grille behind her. Just ahead, it branched three ways, and there would be no way the authorities would be able to trace where he’d gone….

Two minutes later, Nick Cannon groggily came to, his jaw aching mightily, just as Inspector Gunderson and his men came upon him. “Hoi!” the inspector cried. “Who are you? Where’d Shadowvixen go? Answer me, damn you!”

“Nick…Nick Cannon…Secret Service,” the agent unsteadily replied. “Tried to…catch her…myself. Sorry. She…got away.”

The police official looked at him dubiously. “Secret Service? I’ve got a problem believing you, mister.”

“I…can prove it. Just…get me to…your headquarters, please,” Cannon gasped. He didn’t need to act much to sell the image of a dazed man to the police, thankfully.

“Right, then. All right lads, take him to the paddy wagon, under guard. We’ll question him more there.” Gunderson looked morosely at the grille that blocked the access tunnel his quarry had undoubtedly fled down only minutes earlier. Shadowvixen had escaped him – again.

“It’s only a matter of time, you meddling vigilante,” he growled under his breath. “Only a matter of time before you’re mine!”

World – Round 5, Turn 3
Access 1H, use 1D – Locale, Incidental / Take / Extravagance (Moderate Impact)
Interpretation: A thief, looking to make a getaway, accidentally meets Shadowvixen in the tunnels.
Has the thief come from the Gardens, too? (Somewhat Likely) – Yes
Has he stolen the box office money? (Very Likely) – Yes

As Shadowvixen sped through the almost pitch-black tunnel network branching out from Hamilton Square Gardens, trusting in her memory and cat-like vision in the dark, she heard the sound of running feet coming from another branch behind her. Slowing up, she slunk against one curved wall and wrapped her cloak about her, as she reached for the belt about her waist….

Suddenly, from the side tunnel came a dark figure, both hands grasping bulky burlap sacks. He paused at the intersection, catching his breath, and looking about anxiously while he spoke to himself.

“Can’t believe I got away with it! Nearly twenty thousand! This’ll set me up for a year at least!” Unbeknownst to the heroine, the sacks contained most of the box office receipts from tonight’s attendance. “Now all I gotta do is get to the railyards, catch a fast freight out of town, and I’m home free!”

And he turned to run down the main tunnel to his left – right at Shadowvixen.

Hero – Round 5, Turn 3
Access 2S – Shadowvixen, Martial Artist, can fight effectively against most men (Low Impact)

The dark-garbed detective remained still until the proper moment. She knew from Mister Kurosawa’s training that leverage and surprise alike were needed to take full advantage of such a moment. So she waited tensely until the thief was almost upon her.

Then she moved.

In one smooth motion, she stepped out in front of the advancing man, grabbed his collar and belt, pivoted, and used his own momentum to throw him over her right shoulder and slam him to the tunnel floor! Stunned, the thief’s hands flew open, releasing the burlap bags from his grasp. In pain, and gasping from having the breath nearly knocked out of him, he looked up…

…and saw the dim whiteness of a female’s smooth face within a black hood, and brilliant eyes boring holes into him from behind a dark mask. He heard a click as a pistol was cocked and readied.

“Don’t move. I’m tired, and I really don’t want to take the time to deal with you properly,” Shadowvixen hissed at him with every hint of malice and contempt she could muster.

World – Round 5, Turn 4
Access 1D – see entry above, Thief (Low Impact); use 1H to Activate Shadowvixen’s Heroic Disadvantage: Selfless (Low Impact)
Does the thief know of Shadowvixen? (Somewhat Likely) – Exceptional No!
Interpretation: He’s new to town, apparently, and never heard of her. Must be some vagabond criminal.

“I don’t know who you are,” the equally unknown thief told her in a weak voice, “but you wouldn’t shoot a helpless, unarmed man, would you?”

“Try me,” she replied with dark menace…but he wasn’t buying it.

“You would’ve shot me already, if you’d meant to. Tell you what; let me go, and I’ll leave with one of the sacks of money. That’s nearly ten thousand for each of us! What do you say?”

He trusted his instincts that told him, whoever this mystery woman was, she would put away her guns and not end his life. She was, somehow, better than that.

Hero – Round 5, Turn 4
Access 1H, use 8H – Shadowvixen, Ally in Hearts: Father Damien O’Flannery, of the Church of Saint Benedict (Moderate Impact)

“I don’t need my guns to deal with the likes of you,” Shadowvixen growled, reaching for him….

Thirty minutes later, as the clock struck midnight, a gentle tapping was heard from inside the door of a small building behind the Church of Saint Benedict. Rising from his living room desk, where he’d been finishing up his sermon notes for the morning Mass, Father Damien O’Flannery went to the door, and opened it. There was no one there…

…save for an unconscious man dressed in black, handcuffed to a nearby railing. Tied to that same railing were two burlap sacks, bulging with stolen loot, and pinned to one of them was a note. By the fleeting moonlight high above him, the elderly priest could read the following:

Dear Father O'Flannery,

Forgive the late-night visit, but I could use your help. The man here is a thief, and inside these bags are the proceeds from tonight’s prize fight at Hamilton Square Gardens, which he attempted to steal.

Please do me the kindness of contacting the police and caring for the fellow until they arrive. I would do so myself, but I have a pressing errand that will not wait. And while it is too late to save him from prison, perhaps it isn’t too late to save his soul.

I owe you a debt of gratitude. Feel free to call it in at any time.

Sincerely,

SHADOWVIXEN

Attached to the note was a calling card. It was a white poker chip with the silhouette of a fox’s head on it – the signature trademark of The City’s notorious female vigilante.

“Aye, lass, I’ll do it,” O’Flannery said. “And no need to call in th' debt; ye’ve already done much for the parish as it is. ‘Tis an honor to help ye out, for a change.”

As fate would have it, the thief chose that moment to come to with a moan of pain. Looking up with bleary eyes at the man of the cloth, he asked, “What happened? Where am I?”

“Ye're in the hands o' the Good Lord, or at least, one o' his servants, lad,” Father O'Flannery told him. “A right angel delivered ye to me, an' I think ye could use a little tendin' to 'fore th' police get here. It's just gone midnight. Welcome to th' first day o' the rest o' yer life, son....”

World – Round 5, Turn 5
Access 2S – Being, Aggressive / Propose / Weapons (Low Impact)
Interpretation: Prinz and The Torturer discuss how best to achieve their goals....

Elsewhere, two evil figures plotted evil....

“This is an elegant weapon,” Heinrich Prinz remarked, examining the cane of Dr. Xavier Matthews.

“Thank you, sir,” said The Torturer. “I put much thought into it. I offer it to you as a pledge of my good intentions, and the success of our partnership.”

Prinz raised his eyebrows at that, but smiled gratefully. “I thank you, then! I hope Mister Cannon will be good enough to permit me to use it upon him.”

“May the Fates be kind enough to grant you your wish,” Matthews said. “As for myself, I will hold our bargain complete when I have that meddling woman in my power...and the money is in my account, of course.”

“Of course,” Prinz agreed readily. “You should have both by this time tomorrow. Do you really expect Cannon to be so obvious as to travel by train?”

“Yes,” The Torturer said confidently. “It is fast. It is public. Many eyes will be about him, so nothing can be done to assail him without witnesses. It will be easy to assign Cannon bodyguards in the guise of simple passengers. As an express, the train will go straight to Union Station in Washington, mere minutes from the War Department. What could be simpler?” he asked.

“And what could be simpler than an unfortunate 'accident' that deprives the United States Secret Service of one of its best operatives, eh?” the German agent asked with malevolence.

“Nothing,” the master villain agreed confidently, draining the last of the Scotch malt and rising from his chair. “And now, Herr Prinz, it is time we departed. It is late, yet there remains much work to be done. Let us go. Tomorrow – no, today – promises to be long remembered in history!”

Hero – Round 5, Turn 5
Access 1D, Use 8D – Shadowvixen, Ally in Diamonds: Detective Simon Case, the heroine's secret contact in the Metropolitan Police (Moderate Impact)

It was 12:35 AM on the graveyard shift at Police Headquarters when Detective Simon Case, returning from getting a cup of coffee, found a sealed note on his desk with no indication of whom it was from.

That, in itself, practically guaranteed who its author was.

Breaking the seal, the policeman opened the message and read it:


Crumpling the note into his pocket, Case walked out of his office again, carefully avoiding drawing attention from his colleagues in the detectives' room. Finding a stairwell, he climbed up to the roof and closed the door behind him. The scudding clouds overhead caused The City to be bathed in wavering moonlight, and bright artificial lighting was all around him, too. But it was the patches of darkness that beckoned to him – and one, in particular, that had become very familiar these past several months.

“Shadowvixen?” he called softly.

“Over here, Detective Case,” the heroine in hiding replied.

Making his way over to her where she crouched between shadowed ventilators, he made like he was casually strolling, as if he needed a breath of fresh air, looking about idly at the surrounding cityscape. He stopped to lean against one of the ventilators. “What's up?” he asked, not daring to look down at her.

“Something really important. Inspector Gunderson brought someone in tonight.”

“Yes, I heard. He said he nearly caught you this time.”

Shadowvixen chuckled. “He wishes! But the fellow is a Secret Service agent whom I was assisting. Nick Cannon is his name, and he's being targeted.”

“By whom?” Case asked as he took out a cigarette and lit it.

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” she answered. “I'd have trouble believing me, if I hadn't spent the past few hours experiencing things I wish I hadn't....”

“Are you all right?” the detective asked anxiously.

She nodded, though he couldn't see it. “Nothing some hours of blessed unconsciousness can't cure, I think. But that's not important,” she told him. “What is, is that Cannon must be guarded ceaselessly, every minute. Don't let anyone near him, unless he's been authorized directly by someone from the federal government; and even then, make certain of that authorization by checking with Washington.”

Case boggled at the list of demands. “That's a lot to ask for, Shadowvixen,” he told her. “You sure this man is that important?”

“Yes, he is. You are, too, of course,” she hastily added. “I couldn't do a quarter of my work without the leads you provide me.”

“And I wouldn't have risen so quickly in the ranks without the information and evidence that you've provided me to close cases,” Case told her in mutual admiration. “We make a pretty good team.”

“That we do,” Shadowvixen said warmly. “But, without going into details, Cannon carries information vital to our country's national defense. He must be protected at all costs! Do all you can to do that, Detective Case, until his safe transport out of the City can be arranged. Please.” She paused for a brief moment. “Oh, and make sure the Inspector doesn't try to hang him for being associated with a wanted vigilante, too. He has a tendency to go overboard with that sort of thing,” the said vigilante added with a rueful chuckle.

Case joined her laughter. “That he does,” he agreed. “Consider it done. I'll keep him safe and sound, and get him let out when the time comes for it.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Shadowvixen said with a grateful sigh of relief. “That really is a load off my mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm calling it an early night. A pleasant evening to you, Detective.”

“Goodnight,” he told her, not bothering to look to see if she was still there.

He knew she was already gone, without making a sound.

ROUND SIX
McKinley Memorial Rail Station – Saturday, July 24, 1915, 11:45 AM

Nick Cannon stepped out of the officially-marked police automobile. He felt like a new man, for he'd been given a decent night's sleep and the chance to shower and shave. His luggage had been retrieved from the Hotel Metropolitan, and he looked as dapper as he normally did in a clean shirt and collar, tie, an impeccable gray three-piece suit with a gold watch in the coat pocket, and brightly-polished black shoes, the whole ensemble capped by a matching gray felt hat. With his dashing good looks and a newly jaunty outlook on life, nothing diminished his appearance as a man of means and high destiny.

Nothing, that is, except the handcuffs that bound him to the wrist of the Metropolitan Police detective who was his companion.

“Come along, Cannon,” Detective Simon Case told his prisoner. “The last thing we need now is to have you late for the train. I'd hate having to take you back to a jail cell to spend a whole weekend in our ever-so-luxurious accommodations!” he said with a smirk.

“Don't worry, I'm coming! It's not like I have any choice in the matter, you know,” Cannon answered with a subtle point to his manacled wrist. As the two men walked into the station side by side, the secret agent told Case, “I want you to know, I really appreciate all you've done for me, Detective.”

Case shrugged. “Well, most of it was a matter of course, once we'd confirmed your story and identity. Inspector Gunderson still wanted to interrogate you under the hot lights to find out what you knew about Shadowvixen, but we received orders from really on high to provide you with the utmost hospitality – and security.”

“It's not me that's important,” Cannon whispered, “so much as what I'm carrying to Washington with me. If the Service had a trustworthy way to get it to them without arousing suspicion, they'd have happily let me sit in your cooler for a while, I'll bet!”

Case chuckled, and whispered back, “That's pretty much what our mutual friend told me last night, when she asked me to keep a close eye on you.”

Cannon started at that. “You mean...?”

“Yes, she and I have a working relationship,” the detective said, lowering his voice still further, barely heard by the spy over the hustle and bustle of the rail terminal. “Unlike most of my colleagues on the force, I recognize there are some crimes, and criminals, that require...special assistance to deal with. At the same time, she can't always do much by herself with any evidence that she might acquire. So on occasion we help each other out, exchanging leads and information.” Case shook his head in admiration. “She's a remarkable lady.”

“That she is,” Cannon agreed wholeheartedly. “I'm just sorry I won't see her again. I envy you.”

The police official shrugged. “You never know. One thing I've learned about working with her is to always expect the unexpected!”

A few minutes later, Case delivered Cannon to the first-class carriage that was to bear him to the nation's capital. Waiting for them was another man, a few years older than they, who gave them a neutral look. “Gentlemen. It's about time you showed,” he said severely.

“Sorry, Walters,” Cannon said. “You're to be my escort?”

“Yes. All right, Detective, you can remove his bracelets. I'll be assuming custody of Mister Cannon.”

Case unlocked the handcuffs from his and Cannon's wrists, and shook the agent's hand. “Good luck, Mister Cannon, and safe journey.”

“Thanks, Case,” Cannon replied. “I owe you, and I aim to repay it next time I'm in town.”

With that, he boarded the train, with Walters right behind him, as the conductor made the call, “All 'Boaaaard!”

At the rear of the passenger cars, the private car of the late Edward M. Masterston was just then accepting its three occupants.

Fifty-six-year-old Kurosawa Mitsuru and his wife, Rani, first stepped aboard with their Japanese carpetbags, followed by the young woman who was both their mistress and the “adopted daughter” they'd never had of their own – Miss Jennifer Sherwood, heiress to the Masterson publishing empire...and the secretive crimefighter known as Shadowvixen.

“Ah, it will be good to see the cherry blossom trees again,” Mrs. Kurosawa said in anticipation. “It was so wonderful to see them the first time, when the Japanese ambassador presented them to President Taft three years ago.”

“Yes, almost the last time Masterson-san made the journey to Washington,” her husband replied, remembering that event as well. “I'm sure you recall it also, Jennifer?”

Their mistress, radiant in her white dress bound about the waist with a soft pink sash tied at the back, and her favorite traveling hat atop her head, smiled fondly at the memory as she closed her matching parasol. “Indeed, I do. That was my first trip to the capital. I just hope this one goes as smoothly and quietly.”

“But you do not expect it to,” old Mister Kurosawa, her mentor and karate instructor, said simply.

Jennifer shook her head. “No. The logic behind putting Nick – I mean, Mister Cannon,” she corrected herself hastily, “on this train is impeccable, but logic means nothing to the villains we're dealing with. So we must be ready for anything. And that is why, if it comes to it, Shadowvixen is going to make a rare appearance in daylight.” She hung up her parasol and opened a secret compartment, checking that her spare costume and weapons were ready. Satisfied, she closed it and turned to face her beloved housekeepers and surrogate family.

“If either Prinz or Matthews – or perhaps both of them – try to get at him, they'll be in for a surprise!”

A minute later, the express train to Washington, DC, pulled out of McKinley Memorial Station and slowly gathered speed as it began its two-hundred-mile trek….




(The Train is a Known Location, the World Player having anticipated a rail trip to Washington DC; entries #3, 6, 9, 10 on the Conflict List will be generated by Mythic)

World – Round 6, Turn 1
Access 1C – a PORTER, coming around to check and collect tickets, presents a problem (Low Impact)

The train was speeding through The City's suburbs, and Nick Cannon was watching the scenery flash by him at fifty miles per hour. Walters was reading a newspaper, catching up on the news of the day. The third American note to Germany regarding the Lusitania atrocity had just been published, and there had been both strikes and German outrages in munitions factories recently, irritating public opinion in the country. * More signs of the glacial shift of the United States towards a more pro-Allied stance....

“Tickets, please,” a porter asked, appearing at Walters' right shoulder.

The Secret Service man handed over his and Cannon's tickets. The porter looked them over and shook his head. “I'm sorry, sir, but these tickets are invalid.”

“What?!” Walters said in disbelief.

“They're clearly marked for use on July 23rd – yesterday's express to the capital. You should have used them yesterday, sir.”

Both agents looked at the porter. “Look, my good man,” Walters said, as calmly as he could muster, “I just bought those tickets at the station not an hour ago! If there's any fault, it's with the ticket agent at the window, not us!”

“I'm sorry, sir,” the porter insisted, “but you can't use these tickets. Unless the matter is resolved, you'll have to be put off the train at the next station.”

Hero – Round 6, Turn 1
Access 1C – Shadowvixen, Attractive Presence (Low Impact)

“I'm sure we can work something out for these gentlemen,” came a woman's voice.

All three men turned and caught their breath, as the image of a lovely woman in white was presented to them. She smiled sweetly at the porter and handed him a twenty-dollar gold coin – the price of two first-class tickets.

“I think this will pay for their trip,” she told him. “Just mark the correct date on them, and it should be fine. Or,” she offered casually, “we can go talk things over with the conductor?”

The porter paled slightly at that remark. “Oh! Uh, no, ma'am! Thank you, but that won't be necessary! I'll take care of it right away! Excuse me...” he said with hasty awkwardness, and with those remarks, he withdrew to the next car in the rear.

Walters and Cannon both looked up at their unexpected helper with some confusion. She leaned over and explained in a low voice, “That particular fellow likes to make a little extra on the side. He does this 'ticket error' game with two or three passengers a month – not enough to arouse suspicion – and always with the first-class passengers who have the extra money to spare.”

“The cad!” Walters exclaimed.

The young lady shrugged. “It's hard to blame him, actually. Porters make relatively little pay, and he has a sick daughter. Doctor bills can be costly.”

Cannon looked at her oddly. “How do you know all of this?”

She gave him a knowing look. “Because my newspaper ran his story – without the con game part, of course – as part of a series on railroad workers. The other details were shared with me, confidentially, by the reporter who wrote the piece.”

“Your newspaper?” Walters said, looking at the periodical in his hands. “Then you're – ?”

She stood up and offered her hand to them. “Jennifer Sherwood, publisher of the City Town Crier – and several other journals of local and national reputation, I might add.”

Both men stood up and took her hand in grateful thanks for assisting them, and introduced themselves as traveling businessmen. Cannon took the opportunity to look at her more closely. She was certainly a beautiful woman, slender and curvaceous, with honey-blonde hair bound up underneath her luxurious hat and the most brilliant blue eyes sparkling from the faint shadow caused by its brim....

He blinked. Twice.

“Pardon me, Miss Sherwood, but...have we met before?” he asked cautiously.

Jennifer gave him a shy smile, and spoke in a sugary voice totally unlike that of her crusading persona. “I don't think so, Mister Cannon. Believe me, I would have remembered meeting a gentleman as handsome as yourself,” she coyly told him from beneath strategically positioned eyelids.

“Likewise,” he replied, and that was certainly true. But...had he noticed a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she said that? As if enjoying some private joke?

The heiress and disguised heroine paused just long enough for effect, then broke the spell. “Well, I had best be going. I just wanted to check if a friend of mine was on this train, but alas, she's not. Pity; I was hoping for a companion to spend the evening with in Washington.”

“I'd be happy to oblige you, Miss Sherwood,” Cannon said in his most debonair voice, earning him a reproachful look from Walters.

She gave him an assessing look. Then, taking out a calling card and a pencil from her purse, she wrote down the name and address of the hotel she planned to stay at, and handed it to the secret agent.

“I think I'd enjoy your company very much, Mister Cannon. Dinner will be at eight o'clock.”

Jennifer gave him a seductive look farewell, then left them to return to her private car.

World – Round 6, Turn 2
Access 4S – MENACING VOICES, plotting mischief (Moderate Impact)
Is one of them The Torturer? (Likely) – Yes
Is another one of them Prinz? (Likely) – Yes
Is there anyone else's voice being heard? (Unlikely) – Yes
Whose is it? (Complex) – Failure / A Project
Interpretation: It's a professional saboteur

As Jennifer Sherwood moved gracefully towards her car near the center of the train, she stepped into the first-class bath car and entered one of its women's washrooms to freshen up.

While washing up, she thought she heard – barely – two familiar and unwelcome voices.

Instantly, borrowing an old trick, she took out from her purse a shot glass and, putting it against the wall connecting it to the adjoining men's washroom, listened in as best she could....

“Are you in position, Prinz?” came the scratchy voice of The Torturer, faintly.

“Ja, Doctor. He is in the next car,” said Heinrich Prinz, more clearly.

“Good! My friends are arranging the 'accident' as I speak.”

Jennifer stiffened in anxiety. What “accident”?!

“Are you certain it will work?” Prinz asked.

“Emil, tell him,” the diabolical doctor said to someone. A moment later, a third voice was heard, equally faintly and scratchy. “I have done much sabotage work for the Order, Herr Prinz. Six separate charges on the main supports of the bridge over the River, blown in sequence. It will work.”

“When?”

“According to the timetable, you have...fifteen minutes.”

“Very good. I will jump off before then, after I have taken care of my business.”

“As planned. We will pick you up at the designated place. Good luck.”

“In my work, Herr Doctor, luck has nothing to do with my success,” the German assassin said proudly. And none of the voices spoke any more after that.

Hero – Round 6, Turn 2
Access 5D – Shadowvixen, Detective (Low Impact)

“So that's what they have in mind,” Jennifer whispered to herself. “I've got to act fast!”

It seemed clear that Doctor Xavier Matthews and his associates of the Order of the Tiger weren't on the train, but communicating with Heinrich Prinz – who was on the train, in the washroom next door – via some sort of wireless set.

And a set like that, however small or portable it might be, would need at least some time to set it up – and to take it down! she realized. Which means I've got just enough time...!

Looking about, she took up the mop that a custodian had left behind in the washroom after cleaning up some mess the night before. Stepping out of the small chamber, and closing the door quietly, she saw that the doors to the adjoining rooms were very close together, and opened away from each other. Grinning, she took the mop in both of her white-gloved hands...

...and shoved its four-foot-long rounded wooden shaft through the door handles of both washrooms, locking Prinz inside! For the moment, anyway.

That buys me some time, but not a lot! she thought anxiously. Not enough to warn Nick, though. I can only trust he can take care of Prinz himself, if need be. Right now, Shadowvixen's got a more important task – stopping this train before it reaches the bridge!

She hurried through the next several cars, excusing her haste to the other passengers, to enter her own private sanctum. It was now a race against time...and time was not on her side.

Ten frantic minutes later, a dark-cloaked figure clambered atop the mail car directly behind the last of the passenger cars. A fifty-mile-per-hour artificial wind blew back her hood, and at once, honey-blonde hair whipped crazily behind the head of a determined young woman, her fox-masked eyes squinting towards the locomotive that was her goal.

Steadying herself, Shadowvixen began to run along the top of the train as quickly as its swaying motion and the heavy breeze from its rapid travel permitted. She had only about five minutes to stop the train before disaster struck.

World – Round 6, Turn 3
Access 5S, use 5D – some RAILROAD CONSTRUCTION creates an obstacle (High Impact)

The train slowed somewhat to take a curve, and then it swerved onto a recently-laid siding meant to detour rail traffic around a sinkhole that had opened up last week. The fact that it had been quickly put down meant that the track's foundations were slightly unsettled, and the train slowed further still. In doing so, it subjected its passengers to quite a bit of side-to-side motion. However, seated as they were, the sensations, while unpleasant, were tolerable.

For the lovely heroine trying to save them, mere feet above their heads, the gyrations were much more pronounced...and dangerous.

As she leaped between cars, a sudden shift beneath Shadowvixen caused her to tumble, and she threatened to fall off, either to break her neck in a fall, or be ground to a pulp beneath iron wheels!

Hero – Round 6, Turn 3
Access 4S, use 5S, 8S – Shadowvixen, Utility Belt: Grapnel & Swingline (High Impact)

But Shadowvixen had anticipated the possibility of losing her balance, and had already had her grapnel and line out in one hand. As she began to slide, that hand, in one smooth motion, unlatched the grapnel's prongs and threw it towards an air vent pipe near the end of the car she was on.

At once, the hooks caught around the pipe, and the desperate damsel stopped herself short of going over the edge. Pulling herself quickly up, she regained her footing, retrieved the line, and resumed her race for the locomotive cab. She was close to it, now. Only a few more yards to go...

…and about three minutes left until death.

World – Round 6, Turn 4
Access 8S – ANARCHIST SABOTEUR(S), agents of destruction; Physical Abilities – Pistol User, Bomb Thrower; Metaphysical Ability – Fanatical; desiring to kill and destroy in the name of political upheaval. (High Impact) (NOTE: Originally TRAIN ROBBERS, this entry has been modified to fit the storyline.)
How many are there? (roll 1d3) – 3
Have they taken over the locomotive? (Likely) – Yes
Do any of them see Shadowvixen? (50/50) – Yes

By the time she had clambered atop and across the coal car to view the cab of the locomotive, Shadowvixen was greeted by two uncomfortable facts. First, there were barely two minutes to stop the train before it reached a point of no return. But that, in itself, wasn't a problem; ever since her family had been killed in a railroad accident, Jennifer Sherwood had become intensely interested in rail safety, and knew all about how to engage the emergency brakes, both manual and pneumatic, to bring a locomotive and its train of cars to a screeching halt within seconds.

No, the real problem, and the other uncomfortable fact, was the absence of the regular locomotive crew – either dead or unconscious – and the presence of three red-garbed members of the Order of the Tiger running the engine. One of them called to his comrades:

“The bridge is ahead! More steam! In moments, we die for the Great Cause!”

Turning to shovel more coal into the boiler, another of them looked up – and saw the grim masked visage of an avenging angel, her cloak flying in the wind, intent on delivering justice and salvation alike.

“It's Cannon's woman! The one called Shadowvixen!” he cried.

As one, the three anarchists dropped everything they were doing, pulled their revolvers, and opened fire on the vigilantess.

Hero – Round 6, Turn 4
Access 8S, use 5S, 4S – Shadowvixen, Utility Belt: Flash Pellets, can temporarily blind opponents (High Impact)

Before they could properly take aim, however, the heroine leaped high into the air, and her hands flew open towards them, flinging small pellets that struck the floor of the cab at their feet. As they did, she shut her eyes.

Instantly, bright flashes of light and concussion erupted between her foes, blinding and disorienting them. Unable to see, they fired blindly, missing their target badly.

And then their target was upon them.

It took mere seconds for savage blows from booted feet and gloved fists to disable the three men, leaving Shadowvixen alone to work the controls. Glancing ahead, she saw the train barreling towards the bridge. Heaving at the emergency brake, and throwing the engine's pistons frantically into reverse, she prayed that she was in time!

The locomotive lurched, its wheels spun violently backwards, the passengers inside the cars were thrown forward with shouts and screams of surprise and fear...

...and the train quickly came to rest, stopping just as the engine's front wheels rolled onto the bridge.

World – Round 6, Turn 5
Access 5D, use 5S – See entry above (High Impact)
Interpretation: Not railroad construction this time, but destruction, as the charges go off!
Did the villainous Dr. Matthews see Shadowvixen save the train? (Somewhat Likely) – Yes

From a strategic vantage point, The Torturer cursed as he viewed the entire scene through his spyglass. “No! It's been stopped by that infernal, interfering 'heroine'! Prinz must have failed. Blast it all!”

“Yes, sir!” Emil the demolitions expert answered immediately. And he pushed the plunger.

At once, six carefully-placed charges ignited, blowing the southern half of the bridge into the water! But the train itself remained intact and safe...on the north side of the river.

“IDIOT! FOOL!! DUNDERHEAD!!!” Doctor Xavier Matthews continued his harangue of the poor anarchist for the next several minutes, even as they made their escape.

But at least now, with the bridge blown, it was impossible for the train to go forward on its journey to Washington. Nick Cannon – assuming he was still alive – would have to detour and take an alternate means of transportation. He would be more vulnerable then....

Just then, a mob of people from the train began to stream forward, seeking an explanation for the sudden and unexpected stoppage of travel, and the source of the enormous sound of destruction.

Hero – Round 6, Turn 5
Access 5S, Use 4S, 8S – Shadowvixen, Utility Belt: Smoke Pellets, can temporarily obscure vision in an area (High Impact)

Shadowvixen leaped from the cab and raced towards nearby trees lining the river. The crowd saw her at once, and some recognized her.

“Look! It's that woman crimefighter from The City!”

“Crimefighter nothing, she's a vigilante! A law-breaker!”

“What's she doing here?!”

“Never mind that! She just jumped from the cab. She must have tried to hijack the train! Someone stop her!”

And someone tried to, as one of the mail car guards, pushing his way forward, took aim with his Springfield rifle.

Seeing him, Shadowvixen didn't break stride, but reached into another pouch of her utility belt and flung some different-colored pellets. As they hit the ground and broke open, the chemicals within them reacted with the ambient atmosphere to create a thick smoke cloud that obscured her from the guard's vision. Unable to get a clean shot, he fired anyway, guessing where she'd be.

It was a good guess, as the bullet came within a few inches of her, only to strike a tree instead. Unhesitatingly, she tore into the foliage, and disappeared among the trees.

Some minutes later, having carefully circled back around and with the crowd still with its attention focused up front, Shadowvixen crawled underneath the train cars until she could climb into her own again, unseen. It would be at least an hour before Jennifer Sherwood – cleaned and refreshed – would be able to make another appearance for the public.

(The Hero Player notes that Shadowvixen has made one use each of her flash and smoke pellets.)

INTERLUDE TWO
Petersburgh Station, on the Mid-Atlantic Coastal Railroad Line – 3:00 PM

The express train from The City to Washington, DC, running in reverse, pulled into the station serving this small city of 20,000 in the rural part of the state and disembarked its passengers. Secret Service special agent Nick Cannon and his colleague Mr. Walters grumpily stood on the platform watching the other travelers for some moments, each with his own thoughts. Then Walters looked at Cannon and stated the obvious: “This was no coincidence.”

The spy nodded grimly. “Just shows you how far these fellows are willing go,” he said, watching as the three red-garbed anarchists – without their hoods and weapons, bound and heavily guarded – were marched away to the local jail, there to await the state police and federal investigators.

And Walters knew he would have to be one of the latter. Senior in the service to Cannon, and being on the spot, it was his duty to represent – for now, anyway – the national authorities as they started unraveling this spectacular terrorist plot.

“You know what I've got to do,” he told the man he was supposed to guard all the way to the War Department.

“I know, and it's all right. It's all in the line of duty,” Cannon agreed. “Don't worry, I'll be fine. From what I've heard about who saved us, I've got a guardian angel on my side,” he said with a grin.

Walters scowled. “Just watch yourself, Cannon. Some angels are the fallen type.”

“Not this one, Walters,” his companion answered angrily. “Don't always trust what you read in the newspapers.”

The senior agent looked past Cannon. “Speaking of the newspapers...”

Cannon turned around.

Jennifer Sherwood had come down from her private car, with her Japanese servants supporting her at each elbow. A bandage about her head showed a very slight bloodstain, but she was certainly not incapacitated, as she continued to let the Kurosawas know.

“Please, Mitsuru, I'm fine! You don't have to hold my hand anymore like I was three years old!”

“I know I do not,” the middle-aged Issei retorted. “You and I are supporting my charming wife, whom you scared out of a year of her life when you hit your head and fell to the floor in a faint.”

Jennifer made a dismissive sound. “Rani has tended to my skinned knees, twisted ankles, and fingers burned when I tried to sneak cookies right out of the oven. I doubt she'd even flinch at a little scratch on my forehead.”

“That's right!” Mrs. Kurosawa said. “But that doesn't mean I can't worry about you anyway.”

At that moment, their conversation was stopped when a handsome, debonair gentleman came to the heiress' rescue.

“Miss Sherwood! Are you all right?” Nick Cannon asked anxiously.

The Kurosawas looked at him dubiously, but Jennifer reassured them, “It's all right; this is the dashing gentleman I told you about earlier.” She looked up at him. “Yes, I'm fine. It's just a little bump I got when the train made that sudden stop, is all. But Mitsuru,” indicating her manservant, “insisted I take it easy until we came to a station. That's why I was laid up instead of trying to find out what happened, like a reporter ought to be doing!” she said sourly.

“That is because you are the publisher, Miss Sherwood,” Mister Kurosawa told her. “Let the reporters earn their generous pay that you so graciously provide them!”

Cannon couldn't help chuckling at the by-play. Clearly, there was a strong bond between these three that went beyond the mere mistress-servant relationship.

“I hope your injury won't keep you from our dinner engagement, Miss Sherwood?” he asked politely.

“Oh, heavens, no!” Jennifer told him. “You can count on seeing me there, I assure you!”

“But we must first go into town and have you looked at, and then arrange for new travel,” Rani said to her, respectfully but firmly. “We will probably have to stay the night here.”

“I doubt the hotel here is five-star quality,” the lovely girl complained in a rare display of indolence, “but we'll manage, won't we?” She gave Cannon a grateful smile. “Thank you for your concern, Mister Cannon. I'll see you in Washington, if not sooner. Goodbye!”

“Au revoir, Miss Sherwood,” Cannon said, tipping his hat to the departing lady, watching as she left. It's a little disappointing, really, he thought. She seems like a nice girl, all right, but a bit spoiled. Nothing like Shadowvixen.

Once they were out of earshot of anyone, Jennifer Sherwood whispered to her Oriental “parents”. “Do you think he bought it?”

“I nearly bought it,” Mrs. Kurosawa replied in an equally soft whisper. “You should have been an actress, Jennifer!”

“I am one, Rani,” the disguised crimefighter told her. “All the time, in one way or another. At any rate, now Shadowvixen is free to continue acting as Nick Cannon's guardian angel. With Matthews and Prinz still on the loose, he's going to need someone watching over him....”

Just then, the two villains to whom she referred were catching each other up on events.

Energetically.

“So, Cannon lives! You said luck had nothing to do with your success – HA!” The Torturer accused his German partner scathingly.

“Watch your tongue, Herr Doctor,” Heinrich Prinz warned. “Those million dollars are not in your Swiss account yet. I can torpedo this alliance as surely as a U-boat!”

“And I warn you, Herr Prinz,” Xavier Matthews retorted with obvious malice, “that you are surrounded by the most vicious anarchists in the world – under MY command! Your odds of surviving an attempt to double-cross me are not good.”

“Unless I pay them more than you? I have a blank cheque at my disposal, courtesy of the Kaiser. How many of your bloodstained friends would remain your friends if I were to offer them a share of your million dollars, hmm?!”

The Torturer raised his metallic hand as if to strike the German assassin – only to have Prinz point directly into his face the very cane that the sadist had given away the previous night. He knew full well what that concealed weapon was capable of, so he mastered himself and calmed down. “This childish bickering is pointless,” he said.

“I was wondering when you would recognize that,” Prinz remarked, putting the cane down. “As I have said, I found myself locked in the washroom I was using. Obviously, my cover had been revealed, and by the time I broke out, there was insufficient time to confront Cannon and secure the film before the train reached the bridge. All I could do was jump out and hope to recover the plans from the wreckage, or at least assure myself that they would be lost forever in the river. And that might well have occurred if...” he trailed off uselessly.

“...if that meddlesome woman hadn't shown up to interfere,” Matthews finished for him. “Perhaps I underestimated her back in the lair. She appears to be stronger, in both mind and body, than I had judged.” He grinned evilly. “It will truly be a pleasure to break her.”

Prinz scowled in disgust. “Do not let your 'delights' blind you to our mission. Cannon must be stopped, and the plans recovered. That is all that is important right now. And we have no idea where he is!”

“At the moment, no,” the diabolical doctor smoothly agreed. “But that will change soon enough. All we need do is contact our respective network of agents and have them blockade the roads and rails around this area, in all directions. We know Cannon must get to Washington, and this infernal 'Shadowvixen' will likely be with him. Two such distinctive individuals can hardly expect to travel unnoticed. We will find them,” he told the Kaiser's agent confidently. “At the very least, we can seek to intercept him near his destination, where all roads lead to Rome, as it were.”

He gave Prinz his most malevolent look. “And when we find them, it will indeed be a fruitful experience, for both of us. You will earn your emperor's greatest honors. And I will be free to teach them a lesson in the enlightenment to be found in suffering....”

ROUND SEVEN
Petersburgh Hotel & Inn, 55 miles southeast of the City, 160 miles northeast of Washington, DC – 8:30 PM

As the darkness of a clear night began to take hold over this rural part of the state, Nick Cannon prepared to get his journey underway once more.

Thwarted by the sabotage of Doctor Xavier Matthews and his agents of the Order of the Tiger from going to Washington by train, the secret agent had drawn upon all his personal resources and charm – and a hasty wire of money from headquarters – to procure his new mode of transportation from the wealthiest inhabitant of Petersburgh.

Fire-engine red chassis. Open cockpit. A sixty-horsepower, four-cylinder engine that could deliver a top speed of just over eighty miles per hour on a flat stretch. One of these vehicles had just set a coast-to-coast speed record, with Edwin “Cannonball” Baker making the trip in 11 days, 7 hours, and 15 minutes. If a Stutz Bearcat couldn't get him to the War Department before morning, nothing would!

Decked out in driver's gear – greatcoat, gloves, cap, and goggles, Cannon stepped into the sporty automobile that had dominated the nation's racing circuit...and found himself momentarily at a loss for just how to work the thing. Having been in Europe so long, he was accustomed to starters, gear shifts, and such in different locations. He couldn't waste precious time learning to drive again!

“Going my way, stranger?” came a familiar female voice.

Cannon started, having never heard her approach. There was Shadowvixen, posing jauntily in her cloak and hood, smiling at him. “Looks like you're having a bit of trouble,” she said.

“Since when haven't I been been in trouble?” he retorted ruefully. “But it's good to see you again. You're a real hero, you know that?”

“Tell that to the papers,” she said, tossing him a copy of the local Petersburgh Post-Gazette. Based on what passengers on the train had told its reporters, the headline of its special edition blared:


Cannon chuckled. “Well, there's a saying; 'There's no such thing as bad advertising.'”

Shadowvixen grimaced. “If you're trying to develop a good reputation with the public, bad news is bad advertising,” she told him. “In any case, I was simply there to keep an eye on you. I had no idea Prinz and Matthews would try something like that! Though, in hindsight, I suppose it really shouldn't have been a surprise.”

“Agreed. And that's why I'm heading out alone this time. No chance of anyone else getting hurt this way,” he said. “Which, I suppose is my cue to go! See you, Shadowvixen!” And he pushed the button to start the car.

The headlights immediately switched on.

The masked heroine laughed lightly as he sat, embarrassed. “Move over,” she instructed, and moved to take the driver's seat.

“I know how to drive,” Cannon complained.

“But not this car,” Shadowvixen replied smoothly. “I do; it's the same automobile that I use, when necessary.” She gave him a stern look. “I told you back in The City, Nick Cannon: I'm with you all the way on this. We go to Washington together, you and I. Now, sit back and enjoy the ride!”

With that, she pushed the starter, let out the clutch, threw the Bearcat in gear, and roared out of the garage. Within minutes, they were on the road to the nation's capital.




(the Road is a Spontaneous Location; all conflict list entries generated by Mythic)

World – Round 7, Turn 1
Access 2D – Locale, Incidental / Divide / Competition (Low Impact)
Interpretation: Enemy agents, driving in multiple vehicles, spot Our Heroes and set out in pursuit!
How many vehicles? (roll 2d3, results will be 2-6) – 4
With so many vehicles, are they all cars? (50/50) – Yes

The delay caused by the train's return to Petersburgh and the need to purchase the Bearcat had cost Cannon and Shadowvixen their chance at an undiscovered getaway. German agents, directed by Heinrich Prinz, had kept watch on all the roads out of town, looking for the two heroes.

Now, hastening south towards Washington, the speedy Bearcat was seen, and the clear moonlight which Shadowvixen was using to help steer by was enough for her foes to recognize her.

Four roadsters, each with two foreign spies aboard – one to steer, one to shoot – shot out of their hiding places. Soon, the entire squadron was racing to catch up to their fleeing quarry!

Hero – Round 7, Turn 1
Access 3H, use 6H – Cannon, Bricoleur (Moderate Impact)

The sound of a bullet whizzing between his and Shadowvixen's heads was Cannon's first clue they weren't alone on the road. He quickly looked back, and saw the four cars in hot pursuit.

“We're being followed!” he cried over the wind of their speed, and he reached into the deepest pocket of his greatcoat.

“I can't shoot back! I need both hands on the wheel!” his female partner replied, hunkering down in her seat to shield herself somewhat. “You'll have to use my pistols for me!”

Cannon, also hunching down, shook his head. “I've got a better idea! I had a feeling something like this might happen!” he shouted, showing her the large box he'd bought at a store back in town before leaving. It's cover read simply: NAILS, 2 inches (500 count).

Grinning, he opened the box, raised up, and flung the entire contents of the box in a wide arc behind him. Half a thousand pointed spikes lay in wait for their pursuers...and the tires of those days weren't steel-belted.

As the German-driven cars roared over the nails, their tires were punctured repeatedly. Suddenly finding it difficult to steer, two of the drivers lost control and crashed into a wooden fence and into a copse of trees. The other two managed to come to a safe stop on the road, with four flat tires. One of the shooters stood up in his seat and hurled foreign invectives at their escaping prey.

World – Round 7, Turn 2
Access 10C – Thing, Abstract / Trick / Food (Extreme Impact)
Interpretation: A road sign advertising a good meal appeals to Our Heroes, but it leads to an ambush

Ninety minutes later, and nearly halfway to their destination, the Bearcat's fuel tank was getting perilously close to empty. “We're going to need to refuel soon,” Shadowvixen told her companion.

“I could some refueling myself,” Cannon remarked. “I forgot to get anything to eat before leaving.”

Just then, in the reflection of their car's headlights, they saw up ahead the small village of Breverton. And in that sleepy community of just two hundred souls, there was one gas station, with an adjacent eatery...and the light was still on.

Across the road from it was a sign, with an arrow pointing to the place of vehicular and human refreshment. It said:


“How convenient,” Cannon remarked.

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing,” Shadowvixen agreed. “On the other hand, we've not seen any sign of our foes since those four cars. And who'd think of staging an ambush here of all places? And we do need to stop.”

Cannon nodded in agreement. “Pull on over, then. I'll take care of the gas; you can get us some sandwiches to eat on the way.”

The heroine thought about that a moment as she drove towards the small station. “Let's reverse that. I don't want to scare those inside with my appearance,” she cautioned.

“Right,” he said, as the vehicle came to a stop. Both heroes got out and stretched their stiff limbs for a moment, then the cloaked crusader began tending to the Bearcat's gas and oil, while Cannon headed inside. The door was unlocked, and a welcoming light showed past the drawn shade covering its window. He opened it, knocking on the door as he did. “Hello! Anyone home?” he called.

At once, the sound of gun hammers being cocked back greeted him. Six men were either standing or just getting to their feet, every one of them with either a rifle or a revolver in his hand. Except for one, who remained seated at the central table, his back facing Cannon...until he turned around with a smile that had no warmth in it.

“Good evening, Herr Cannon,” Heinrich Prinz said politely. Then, without turning to his followers, he instructed them, “Kill him.”

And six firearms, all pointed right at Nick Cannon, fired as one.

Hero – Round 7, Turn 2
Access 6H, use 2H – Cannon, Bricoleur (Moderate Impact)

In that split second between life and death, Cannon knew he had only one chance to stay alive.

Flinging himself backwards to fall prone onto his back, he drew his Luger from a pocket of his greatcoat and shot out the single light bulb that provided the only illumination for the establishment.

At once, darkness enveloped the sight of his foes, but not before two of their slugs ripped through his clothes to meet flesh. Cannon gasped in pain as one bullet entered and exited the extreme left side of his torso, while the other tore at his right bicep, and then he grunted as his back hit the ground.

But leaping backwards like that had positioned himself to close the door, which opened outwards, upon his enemies with his feet. At once, he did so, and gathered himself to his feet, stumbling as fast as he could towards the Bearcat.

World – Round 7, Turn 3
Access 6H – Being, Aggressive / Desert / Animals (Moderate Impact)
Interpretation: Prinz unleashes attack dogs stationed outside the eatery upon Cannon

From inside the darkened building, Prinz commanded: “Blitz! Krieg! Attacke!”

Two Dobermans raced from behind the structure and ran down Cannon in an instant. One of them sank his teeth into one of the secret agent's legs, toppling him, while the other sought for the American's throat. Cannon instinctively used his right arm – his firing hand – to protect himself, which only caused the dog to clamp his jaws around the man's forearm, immobilizing his weapon. He cried out in pain and fear!

Hero – Round 7, Turn 3
Access 7S – Shadowvixen, Utility Belt: Flash Pellets (Low Impact)

Prinz and his men had just emerged from the building and were watching the desperate struggle on the ground before them, when their world suddenly went white.

From cover behind the Bearcat, Shadowvixen had flung her remaining flash pellets, which landed among Cannon and the two Dobermans but also directly in the Germans' line of sight. FLASH!! BANG!!! went the shock weapons, and the dogs, thoroughly frightened, let their quarry go and ran yelping away.

But Cannon, too, was dazed and injured, and a half-dozen enemy agents and their leader were only a few feet away. Though also stunned and disoriented, they would be upon him in only a few moments, once they cleared their senses.

The vigilantess drew her matched Colts and rushed out from cover to rescue her partner.

World – Round 7, Turn 4
Access 3H – Locale, Deliberate / Proceedings / Home (Low Impact)
Interpretation: The commotion is bringing the local townsfolk out to confront whoever's making the racket.

The sound of battle had awakened the normally quiet village. Lights came on, windows and doors were flung open, and brave men descended from the patriots of yore rushed out with hunting rifles, pistols, and clubs to do two things. Find out what was going on...and put a stop to it, right now!

Shadowvixen was wanted by both state and City authorities for her vigilantism. If they caught her, it might mean the end of her crimefighting career – and worse!

Hero – Round 7, Turn 4
Access 2D – Shadowvixen, Detective (Low Impact)

Ignoring the danger to herself, the heroine rushed to Cannon's side to cover the Germans with both of her pistols, and they heard the sound of the semiautomatic weapons being cocked.

“Don't move, Prinz! I have you and your men covered, and the townspeople are fast approaching. Your mission has failed, and I place you under citizens' arrest for espionage against the United States!”

She figured that Prinz had enough of a self-preservation streak to surrender, under the circumstances he now faced. It'd be difficult to convict him on espionage charges, and given his importance to the Kaiser, the assassin might well be swapped in an exchange of spies.

World – Round 7, Turn 5
Access 7S – Thing, Concrete / Separate / Disruption (High Impact); use 3H, 6H to activate Shadowvixen's Heroic Disadvantage: Selfless (Moderate Impact)
Interpretation: Prinz has a bomb inside the station, and its owners will die if Shadowvixen doesn't save them, forcing her to let he and his men go.

“Alas, Fraulein SchattenFüchsin,” Prinz told her, blinking his eyes as his hands raised, “you are forgetting the two owners of this establishment, who have been conveniently tied up and stuffed in their pantry...along with a bomb. A high explosive that will go off in approximately...” He made a quick mental calculation. “...one minute. Arrest me and my comrades, and they will die. As will the rest of us, including many members of this community.”

“You're bluffing,” Shadowvixen accused him.

“Perhaps...but can you take the chance to find out?” he said with a sneer. Suddenly, he shouted, “Auseinander treiben!” and he and his men scattered in all directions, disappearing into the night.

Caught by surprise, Shadowvixen hesitated a second, facing an awful choice. She wanted to pursue and capture Prinz, but she couldn't take the chance those poor people were really in danger – could she?

Hero – Round 7, Turn 5
Access 10C – Cannon, Stunningly Handsome, makes an impression on others (Low Impact)

No, she couldn't.

Putting her weapons away, she rushed inside the mom-and-pop eatery.

Finding the pantry, she found it unlocked but securely closed. Desperate moaning and muffled cries could be heard inside. Flinging it open, she saw a couple in their thirties – Joe and Sue, no doubt – gagged and bound back-to-back. At their feet were three sticks of dynamite, attached to a clock...and it was ticking.

With no time to waste, she picked up the explosives, rushed out the back door, and flung them into the empty night behind the building with every ounce of strength she possessed. Barely had it landed when they went off in a thunderous roar, the bright light blinding her, and the concussion throwing her back inside. Tripping on the step, she fell back and hit her head on the floor, and was knocked out, fighting the drop into unconsciousness all the way....

When she finally awoke inside Joe & Sue's Place, Shadowvixen found herself seated in a chair, with her hands bound behind the chair back and fastened to it.

“I really hate waking up like this,” she muttered under her breath.

Looking about her, she saw herself surrounded by several armed citizens of the small community, led by its sheriff, who was questioning the owners of the wayside station.

“...and you say this lady here rushed in, grabbed the dynamite, and saved your lives. That correct?”

“Yes, sir, Sheriff Thompson,” Joe told him. “If it weren't for her, there'd be nothing left of Sue an' I now but little pieces.”

The lawman nodded, finishing his notes. Then he turned to his prisoner, and noticed she was awake. “'Bout time you came to, little lady,” the forty-ish sheriff said neutrally.

The cloaked crusader, shaking off the cobwebs, shrugged as best she could and gave a wry grin. “What can I say, sir? A girl needs her beauty sleep.” That set the townsfolk laughing, but the sheriff quickly hushed them.

“Well, Miz Shadowvixen – yep, we know who y'are, what with the stories in the papers – I'm in a bit of a fix here,” Thompson told her. “On the one hand, we've got witnesses sayin' you broke up a heck of a fight, running off some bad folk, an' Joe and Sue here swear on a stack of Bibles that you saved their lives. On the other hand, you're wanted bad by the authorities, and I've kind of got my duty to do.” He looked at her with curiosity. “Have you got any suggestion 'bout what I should do?”

Before she could answer, another voice did.

“I have one, Sheriff,” said Nick Cannon, authoritatively.

All eyes – and especially those of the dark-garbed damsel – turned to the man who'd just stepped in the doorway. His overcoat, coat jacket, and vest were off, and bloodstained bandages covered his upper right arm and left side where the shirt had been cut away. All of this the work of the local medicine man, Doc Killabrew, who'd practiced triage in the Army during the Spanish-American War and still knew well how to patch up human flesh torn by high-velocity metal.

Even injured, Cannon made an impressive sight. Stripped down to his shirtsleeves, Shadowvixen could see he was athletically built with an erect posture that put him a good four inches taller than her own 5'6” frame. Despite his wounds, his eyes were keen and bright; and now they gave her an appreciative glance before he turned his full attention to the lawman.

“I haven't introduced myself before, Sheriff Thompson. My name is Nick Cannon, and I'm a special agent with the United States Secret Service.” He handed him a black wallet. “Here is my identification and credentials, and a contact number if you want to phone my superiors in Washington.”

The townsfolk present murmured in astonishment, while the lawman pored over the documents. “Well, it all looks official enough,” he said. “But what do you have to do with this here vigilante?”

“This heroic lady,” Cannon corrected, “is assisting me with an important assignment, one vital to the national security of the United States. For that reason, she is currently a deputized member of the Secret Service, and is to be released immediately into my custody,” he ordered. Everyone else gasped in surprise at his words, but Thompson wasn't one to be easily cowed, and his eyes narrowed as he gazed steadily at the secret agent.

“And I'm to just take you at your word, Mister Cannon, and let her go?” he asked dubiously. “There's a state warrant for her arrest, you know,” he added, cautioning the injured hero.

“I know; and I take full responsibility for the matter,” replied Cannon without hesitation. “Whatever happens, you'll be personally exempt from any prosecution. But the fact is that I cannot complete my mission without her aid and assistance. To keep her under arrest will be to jeopardize the safety of the nation in a time of peril. I wish I could explain things in more detail to you, but I can't. I can only ask you to believe what I have just said...and to confirm my belief that you're enough of a patriot to place the needs of your country first and foremost,” he finished with sincere conviction.

The local lawman looked up at the federal agent for several long moments, weighing the matter in his mind. Then, finally, he said to his deputy the magic words. “Let her go, Frank.”

In seconds, Shadowvixen was free of her bonds, and her weapons were handed back to her. “Thank you, Sheriff,” she said to him simply.

“Don't thank me, thank your friend here!” he told her with a wry grin, pointing a thumb up at Cannon. “That was one heck of a convincing argument. He must think the world of you, ma'am.”

“He does,” Cannon said, looking at her rather than to Thompson.

Shadowvixen was glad that her hood covered up her features while she bent to strap on her utility belt and secure her holsters in place.

It kept everyone from seeing just how badly she was blushing.

(Note: Shadowvixen has expended her flash pellet attacks for this game)

ROUND EIGHT
Somewhere in rural eastern Maryland, 25 miles from Washington, DC – Sunday, July 25, 1915, 2:00 PM

The hum of the Bearcat's motor remained steady as its driver maneuvered it through the back roads of eastern Maryland. Shadowvixen was alert, her eyes focused on the path before her...most of the time. But occasionally, she stole a glance at the man beside her, wrapped warmly in his overcoat, his driving hat pulled over his goggled eyes as he stole some much-deserved sleep. She'd insisted on him doing so, and the painkillers she'd given him on top of Doctor Killebrew's treatments had had their effect also.

So far, so good, the vigilantess thought to herself. Only another hour, and Nick will be at the War Department…and then what? she pondered. Will that be the end of our relationship, each of us going our separate ways, to our separate secret battles? He’s such a handsome, brave, conscientious man – the kind of man a woman fantasizes about. And he’s real. Can I really deal with the thought of never seeing him again, of not knowing whether he's alive or dead in some distant land?

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Get a hold of yourself, Jennifer! What you're thinking of is impossible! Even if you could bring yourself to tell him your own secrets, what secrets does he have? What do you really know about him? He might have a girl in every port, as the saying goes. He might even be married, for all you know! The heroine's thoughts fell silent for a bit at that possibility.

You know you can't keep him away from his duty, she admitted sullenly, and he's got to be a free man to do that. Besides, suppose you and he did get married – would he want his wife to continue being Shadowvixen, risking life and limb behind the anonymity of a mask? Could you give that up, after working so hard to develop that other life and becoming good at it? Jennifer Sherwood tries to do her part for the good of The City, but it's so frustratingly little sometimes! There's a role and a need for Shadowvixen, as well as the other secret crimefighters, both back home and in other places in the country. Especially with villains like Doctor Xavier Matthews on the loose. The thought of that sinister man, and how he’d toyed with her mind and emotions, sent a shudder down her spine, warm night though it was.

Nick Cannon stirred, perhaps attuned to her mood. He groggily opened his eyes, yawned, and stretched as best he could in the open cockpit of the high-performance car. “Where are we?” he asked his female companion.

“About twenty miles or so from the Washington city limits. We should get there in another half-hour. How are you feeling?” she asked concernedly.

“Like I've been run through a wringer,” the secret agent told her, “but I'll live.”

“Good. It's a better world with Nick Cannon in it than not,” she said as brightly as she could. He sensed the tension beneath that statement, though…and understood the reason why.

“You know, it doesn't have to end tonight,” he started to say to her. “We could – ”

“No, Nick,” she said with a shake of her head, glad her need to stay focused on the road ahead kept her from having to confront those eyes. “It's no good, I've already thought this out. I can't deny the...feelings I have for you, even if I wanted to. But,” she sighed, “our lives, our responsibilities...they're too different, ultimately. At most, we might have a night or two together, here and there; but would that be enough? For either of us?”

She fell silent so he could think about that. He thought about it for a long time.

“I don't know,” Cannon finally said, “but I'm willing to try...if you are.” He gathered his courage. “You're the most amazing, incredible, beautiful woman I've ever met, Shadowvixen. My world is a lot better with you in it than out of it – even if it's only for a night or two, here and there. And on those nights, the world had better look out! Because I think that, together, there isn't anything we can't accomplish.”

Shadowvixen slowed her car down a bit to wipe the tears forming in her eyes; she couldn't see the road clearly otherwise. “God bless you for saying that, Nick,” she said in a husky voice. “Maybe we can work something out, after all...because, Lord knows, I want to!” The cloaked crusader then shook herself and focused her attention back on the matter at hand.

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she said to her would-be lover. “Right now, I just want to get you and those plans safe inside the offices of the War Department. We're not there yet, you know.”

“You think Matthews and Prinz will make another attempt?” Cannon asked.

“I'm expecting it, and so are you,” the heroine replied. “We're less than an hour from safety. This is their last chance to stop us, so I anticipate they're going to give us their best shot.”

The secret agent drew his Luger, checked the magazine, reloaded the gun and primed it.

“In that case...let's make sure we give them ours in return,” he said grimly.




(the area in and around Washington, DC is a Spontaneous Location; all conflict list entries will be generated by Mythic)

World – Round 8, Turn 1
Access 9D – Thing, Mysterious / Persecute / War (High Impact)
Interpretation: Some kind of advanced war machine attacks the Heroes!
Is it an airplane? (Somewhat Likely) – Yes
Is it being piloted by one or more of the villains? (Somewhat Likely) – Yes
Are both villains in the plane? (Unlikely) – Exceptional Yes!
Interpretation: It's so advanced, it takes both men to fly it! If one fails in his task, the aircraft will crash!
Do the Heroes hear or see its approach at all? (Unlikely) – Yes

As the faithful Stutz machine delivered its occupants ever closer to the nation's capital, the moon sank before them in the west. As it did, both Cannon and Shadowvixen suddenly saw something appear before it, a silhouette against its silvery backdrop.

“What the heck is that? Some kind of bird?” he asked, commenting on its odd appearance.

“No...it's much too large for a bird. It's also moving too fast – and it's getting closer!” she exclaimed.

At an altitude of 2000 feet and a speed of 200 miles per hour, Heinrich Prinz struggled to keep Doctor Xavier Matthews' airship under his control.

“Doctor! You are both a genius and a lunatic! This craft is so unstable, it shouldn't even be flying!” Prinz said anxiously in the front seat of the enclosed cockpit.

“Exactly!” The Torturer replied from the slightly raised seat behind the German agent, working to help fly the machine too. “That is the point; its very instability makes it extremely maneuverable, and along with its speed, can out-fly anything in the air! In fact, it requires a new control system to handle it. Congratulations, Herr Prinz! You are piloting the very first electrical aircraft – one controlled by electric impulses from the flight controls, rather than by pulleys and wires!”

“And one made of metal, rather than wood and fabric,” he commented. “Much more durable!”

“And capable of carrying more, and heavier, weapons than any other aeroplane of its size!” He looked down at the road through his night-scope binoculars, and saw the Bearcat motoring along. No other car was on the roads at this hour; that could only be Cannon and Shadowvixen!

“Ahhhh...there's our quarry!” he exclaimed.

“Where?!” Prinz asked anxiously. “I do not see them!”

“Ahead of us and twenty degrees to your starboard side! See the headlights? Start your attack run! I shall control the weapons from back here....”

As the German assassin and sometime-pilot lined up on the automobile, The Torturer activated his weapons console. He had three options: machine guns, rockets, and two heavy bombs.

“Let's start simply, shall we?” he murmured with a sadistic grin, as he pushed a large red button.

From the front of the fuselage, four .30-caliber machine guns opened fire, spitting tracer bullets that would, in mere seconds, bisect the speeding car in two!

Hero – Round 8, Turn 1
Access 9D, Use 7D – Shadowvixen, Character Assumption, is able to calculate the trajectory of the incoming tracers and avoid them (Moderate Impact)

Behind her black mask, Shadowvixen's blue eyes widened in terror as a hail of red-hot bullets smacked into the road ahead of them!

But in a split second, her racing mind noted the path the bullets were taking – diagonally, from her vantage point, at an acute angle from right to left. That left one precarious path to safety.

She veered hard over to the far right part of the road, the right-hand wheels actually straying over into the grass shoulder, and the bullets narrowly missed the car to its left!

Next to her, Cannon, holding on for dear life, watched the flying machine as it sped overhead. Twin rear-mounted engines on the wings pushed the aircraft forward with tremendous velocity. It was midnight-blue in color, and no other details could be made out.

“What in God's name is that?!” he cried.

“Nothing that God has anything to do with,” Shadowvixen retorted, trying to get the car back on the road, and speeding up as fast as she dared. “I'd wager anything that's another of Xavier Matthews' cruel inventions.”

“If it is, then we can't allow him to help the Germans! War plan secrets or no, airplanes like that could help guarantee the Kaiser victory!” Cannon shouted. “And maybe lead to an invasion of America, ultimately!”

World – Round 8, Turn 2
Access 4C – Locale, Incidental / Propose / Joy (Moderate Impact); use 7D to activate Shadowvixen's Heroic Disadvantage: Secret Identity (Low Impact)
Interpretation: In the midst of all this, Cannon asks Shadowvixen a most unexpected question...

As their automobile careened around a sharp turn at breakneck speed, fleeing for their very lives, the two heroes saw a most incongruous road sign.

It was an advertisement for a Washington jewelry store, showing a pretty girl being proposed to with a diamond ring by her handsome suitor. The caption read: Why Wait? It's Always The Right Time For Diamonds!

Nick Cannon had never been one to believe in fate before – but there was a first time for everything.

The Torturer’s aircraft came around again for another firing pass.

Facing the prospect of imminent death as never before, Cannon vowed he would not die without following the commands of his heart. Even as he took out his Luger and prepared to fire back at The Torturer’s macabre machine, he looked over to the woman beside him and called out with all the hope in his soul:

“Jennifer Sherwood, will you marry me?!”

Hero – Round 8, Turn 2
Access 7D, Use 9D – Shadowvixen, Detective (Moderate Impact)

The sheer shock of the question nearly caused the disguised heiress to lose control of her vehicle. It swerved wildly, back and forth – just as a hail of rocket fire came through, which would have hit them had the unintended evasive action not happened!

Shadowvixen’s mind was in turmoil. By this point, she should be laughing her head off at his silly assertion, claiming there was no way such a high-society waif could be her! Pointing out the utter incongruity of it all, and certainly not in the context of his impossible question!

So why wasn’t she saying those things? Why wasn’t she objecting? Why wasn’t she protecting the lie she’d spent so much time and effort creating – the illusion that Shadowvixen and Jennifer Sherwood were two different women?

In that moment of final decision, it was her detective's reasoning, as much as the yearning of her heart, that spoke at last.

“I knew I shouldn't have risked coming into the first-class car and letting you see me,” she finally said, admitting the truth of her dual identity. “You recognized me because I chose to be flirtatious. Because I couldn't help wanting to see you again, to be with you. Because I wanted to have you in my life just a little bit more – for just a little bit longer.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he told her earnestly. “Whether we live or die tonight. But I don't want to die without having your answer. Please.”

“Jennifer Sherwood can't marry Nick Cannon,” the masked woman told him glumly. “Not without a long engagement suitable to someone in her circumstances, and he'd be exposed to more public scrutiny than I think your superiors would like one of their agents to have.”

She paused...and then gave him a brilliant smile.

“But Shadowvixen isn't under such constraints; and in her name, I accept your proposal of marriage, Mister Cannon.”

World – Round 8, Turn 3
Access 6S – Being, Passive / Ambush / Stalemate (Moderate Impact)
Interpretation: One or more drunks come out of the woods and cross the road, blocking the way!
How many are there? (roll 1d6) – 4

At that moment, as the two heroes hurtled over a hill and around a bend, what to their wondering eyes should appear but four carousing drunkards in the middle of the road! Singing without a care in the world, they were completely oblivious to the speeding car coming up fast behind them!

Hero – Round 8, Turn 3
Access 4C, Use 7C – Cannon, Character Assumption: Will use his superior strength to overpower Shadowvixen and turn the wheel to avoid the pedestrians (Moderate Impact)

Shadowvixen screamed as she instinctively tried to apply the brakes, but there wasn't enough space to stop in time!

Cannon lunged for the wheel and overpowered his bride-to-be, turning the wheel sharply to the left, sending the car onto the grass shoulder once more. Barely maintaining control, he caused the careening Bearcat to whip by the surprised moonshiners, who were instantly scared into sobriety – and then terrified beyond belief by a flying beast that roared over the treetops mere feet overhead!

Every one of them swore that night to never touch the stuff again, and go to church this and every Sunday for the rest of their lives.

World – Round 8, Turn 4
Access 7D, use 7C – Thing, Concrete / Neglect / Leadership (Extreme Impact)
Interpretation: Doctor Matthews' neglect of his flying duties causes the aircraft to go out of control

Cursing the blasted luck as Prinz sought unsteadily to gain altitude, The Torturer armed his two powerful bombs – so powerful, a single one could bring down a ten-story building. A radio signal inside them would even let him guide them precisely at their targets. Let these loose, and that pitiful little car would be blown off the road altogether! That should finally take care of those meddling “heroes”!

Suddenly, the aircraft pulled up sharply – too steeply for safety. “Prinz! What are you doing?”

“I am doing nothing! It's this devilish aircraft! I...I can't control it; we're going to stall! Damn you, Matthews, help me!!”

Desperately, the two men tried to wrest control of their machine, but it was too late. Slowing finally to almost nothing and pointed nearly vertical, the diabolical doctor's terrifying warbird slewed over at an altitude of just over 2,500 feet and fell dizzingly from the sky!

Directly towards the bridge over the Pawtuxent River, which the Bearcat was just about to cross.

Hero – Round 8, Turn 4
Access 7C – Shadowvixen AND Cannon both, Attractive Presence/Stunningly Handsome (Low Impact)
(A violation of the rules, but it fits perfectly here, and the World Player accepts the premise.)

Shadowvixen, seeing what was happening, threw the throttle wide open, giving the Bearcat all it could handle. But from the rate it was falling, it looked like the plane would destroy the bridge just as she reached the middle of it. And they were going far too fast to stop before it happened.

The masked heroine, her hair reflecting the moonlight and starlight as it swirled madly in the fury of the wind, looked over at the American secret agent sitting beside her, and saw him gazing back at her. The goggles had been dropped around his neck, and his eyes shone brightly. His cap was gone, and his short dark locks glistened, ruffled by an eighty-mile-per-hour gale. In a heartbeat, each remembered the short time they'd been together – the perils they'd faced, the triumphs shared. And each committed to everlasting memory the striking and lovely features of the other.

After all they'd been through, it was so unfair!

There was nothing left to say, really. But they said it anyway – somehow soft, somehow tender, despite the hurricane raging about them.

“I love you, Jennifer Sherwood.”

“I love you, Nick Cannon.”

World – Round 8, Turn 5
Access 7C, Use 7D – See entry above for Turn 4 (Extreme Impact)

Heinrich Prinz screamed as his falling metal coffin hurtled down, straight at the bridge! His career as the Kaiser's ace enforcer was over – and all because he'd put his trust in that maniac!!!

The altimeter, measured in feet above sea level, spun crazily down: 600…450…250…!

Hero – Round 8, Turn 5
Access 6S – Cannon, Pistol User, shoots well with his concealed 9mm semiautomatic (Low Impact)

The Bearcat screamed across the bridge as The Torturer's greatest and most dangerous invention dove right at it.

In his final act as an agent of the United States Secret Service, Nick Cannon braced himself against the slipstream, defiantly pointed his Luger at the warbird from Hell, and gave it his best shot.

And at precisely 2:17 AM on the morning of Sunday, July 25, 1915, a tremendous explosion rocked the easternmost suburbs of the nation's capital.

Have Our Heroes PERISHED on the brink of success?

Could they have SURVIVED the explosion somehow?

WILL Mister Cannon and Miss Sherwood live happily ever after?

C'mon, it's a story in the style of the adventurous pulps!

What do YOU think?


EPILOGUE
A particular residence in Washington, DC – Sunday, July 25th, 1915, 10:00 AM

The ringing of church bells could be heard across the morning air above Washington, DC, as the faithful flocked to worship. They were clear, chiming in the background, and to the ears of many, it was the sound of joyful thanksgiving.

Indeed, that very thought crossed the minds of two very important men as they held a most important discussion....

----------

“The Coast Guard and the state police are in the process of dredging the river now, sir. The Navy is standing by to assist as needed,” said the thick, balding man in the gray suit.

“How much has been recovered on the bridge?” he was asked by the other.

“Not much except pieces of metal debris, sir – very small pieces, that is. That explosion didn't leave a lot left of...whatever it was.”

A tall, thin man with a severe look on his face removed his golden pince-nez from the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. The newspapers were so far being given only sketchy details by the authorities, but they were already printing reports from wide-eyed eyewitnesses about a huge flying monster that spat death from its mouth and fire from its wings. Others, more credible, suggested it was an airplane that got into trouble and crashed. Best, perhaps, to not lend credence to either observation.

“All right, we'll tell the press that we're looking into this 'unidentified flying object' as a serious matter. Then conduct a false investigation and release the results in about two weeks. Once that's done, the public will probably forget about it quickly enough. Just as well – we don't dare tell them the truth,” he remarked, looking again at the folder on his ornate desk marked “MOST SECRET”.

“Yes, sir. It'll be done as you say,” assured the other.

“Good. Now, what about the individuals involved in this affair?”

“I have them waiting outside, sir. They were brought in secretly; no one know they're here.”

“Very well, send them in. Make sure I'm alone with them for ten minutes; no interruptions.”

The gray-suited man nodded in respectful understanding, turned, and left the office.

A minute later, Secret Service special agent Nick Cannon and the costumed crimefighter known as Shadowvixen – whom hours earlier had narrowly escaped certain death on the Pawtuxent River Bridge when Cannon’s lucky shot detonated one of The Torturer’s aerial bombs and destroyed his plane – were ushered into the Executive Office to stand, respectfully but uncertainly, before the ceremonial desk of the honorable Mister Woodrow Wilson, twenty-eighth president of the United States of America.

The most powerful elected official in the country looked them over quietly for fifteen seconds – seconds that seemed like minutes to the two young people in front of him – before he spoke.

“Mister Cannon, your immediate superior, Deputy Commissioner Anderson of the Secret Service, has provided me with a summary of the documents you delivered early this morning,” the President told him. “They indicate considerable planning on the part of the German military with regards to a concerted submarine blockade of our ports, and seizure of our overseas territories and of nations in the Caribbean, prior to a formal invasion of our Southern coasts. All predicated, you understand, on the defeat – or at least, inaction – of the British and French navies beforehand, and a secret alliance with Japan that would permit that island nation to conquer our holdings in the Pacific. This has now been thwarted by your efforts. I hereby tender you the enormous thanks of your country, and of myself, personally.”

Cannon was not normally a man to be left speechless; but now he had a little trouble swallowing the lump in his throat. Throughout his entire hazardous adventure, he'd never known the full extent of the information he'd carried. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Mister President. I couldn't have succeeded without the help of Shadowvixen, however.”

“So I have been informed,” Wilson said, and he turned to the dark-garbed woman before him with a neutral expression. “Young lady, vigilantism is not something to be rewarded or encouraged. It suggests that our regular law enforcement agencies are incapable of dealing with the criminal elements in our society. And for a woman to engage in such behavior is...” He paused, searching for the proper word. “Unbecoming, to say the least.”

Shadowvixen prudently remained silent, despite the insult to her suffragist sentiments.

“Nevertheless,” the President continued, “I am creditably told, by several sources, that you were instrumental in not only assisting Mister Cannon on his journey to Washington, but also protecting him – and the information he carried – from those who sought to stop him. He himself, according the formal report, mentions you saving his life on at least three separate occasions – during one of which, you also apparently saved the lives and limbs of over three hundred other souls. Regardless of the motive or person, these are highly commendable actions...and so I do commend them, and also tender you the thanks of a grateful nation for your heroism.”

“Thank you, sir,” Shadowvixen said quietly. “Sir, may I ask a question?”

“You may,” he told her.

She hesitated a moment, then took the plunge. “It occurred to me, sir, that having the German plans in our possession puts us back at square one. After all, won't they simply start over and come up with a new strategy against us?”

Wilson gave her a thin smile. “Of course they will; in fact, that is precisely the point of it all,” he said. When she gave him a confused look, he explained further. “These plans of theirs, Miss Vixen, took many years to develop. They had to take into account a wide variety of possible scenarios, including the continent-wide war in which they now find themselves. Given such advanced preparation, had the Kaiser's agents recovered the documents Mister Cannon and yourself brought to us, their plans could have proceeded full-wrought with only minor adjustments based on the European situation. They could have afforded to be more combative with us over the issue of freedom of the seas. They could have promoted pro-German revolutions in Latin America, threatening the Monroe Doctrine and acquiring bases for a future invasion. And they might well have actively stirred up anti-war fervor in this country, capitalizing on the public’s fear of being drawn into such a disastrous conflict – an eventuality I myself do not want to see happen, if that can be avoided,” he clarified.

“But now we know what they have had planned for us, and so we can take concrete steps to counter them, both militarily and diplomatically. As a result, they must start over again from scratch, as it were. But it takes time to develop new plans and the means to carry them out, so we now have little to fear from overt German aggression in the near future. Indeed, now is the time for them to be cautious in their dealings with us, and I expect the Kaiser's ambassador to deliver a much more conciliatory reply to our latest Lusitania note. They will try to appease us, to keep us from reaching out too much to the Allies. They will seek now with all their efforts to delay us from tipping the scales of this Great War – especially now that we know that a defeat of Germany’s current enemies would inevitably endanger our own national security.”

Wilson got up and turned to look out the window, pensively.

“Of course, these developments could make them more reckless, instead,” he offered with grim foresight. “They may take bold risks with their armies, trying to win the war with enormous bloodshed, before the United States might intervene. They may also attempt outlandish, dangerous schemes to divert our attention and resources by fostering conflicts with other nations, either in our hemisphere or further abroad. Maybe Japan, as they originally intended. Or with Mexico, perhaps. Worst of all, they may well incite agents of violence and upheaval in our own population...as they have apparently tried to do with this Doctor Xavier Matthews.”

“Have they found any trace of him or of Prinz, sir?” Cannon asked.

“Only one item of Prinz's appears to have been found,” Wilson said, turning back to them. “A silver ten-Deutschmark coin, dented as if it had once stopped a small-caliber bullet. It presumably was a good-luck charm,” the President remarked with a smirk of irony. “As for the doctor, there is no trace of him whatsoever; but we can feel confident that he, too, perished in the explosion.”

Shadowvixen shook her head. “No, sir. He's alive.”

Wilson looked at her sharply. “You're certain of this? How?”

She shrugged her cloaked shoulders. “Nothing tangible, Mister President; it's more like...a feeling. A sense that something so fundamentally evil can't be so easily erased. But hopefully, we won't be seeing him, or feeling the malevolent effects of his presence, for a long while.”

“Let us hope so, miss,” he told her. He then sat down at his desk and pulled out two envelopes.

“Before you leave, there is one more matter to attend to. I said you had the thanks of the nation; allow me to provide you with tangible evidence of such.” Handing one envelope to Cannon, he said, “This contains the highest award for bravery, above and beyond the call of duty, by a civilian agent of the federal government in foreign service. It also contains a copy of the formal documents accepting your resignation from the Secret Service, and – owing to your current identity being known to the German intelligence agencies – authorizing the creation of a new life for you. In recognition of your invaluable service, your new persona will be a financially successful gentleman who has spent several years abroad, and is about to publish a more-or-less authoritative monograph on the German and Central European political systems – which should prove quite popular, given current circumstances,” Wilson said dryly. He then handed Cannon the book in question. Its embossed cover read: The Dynastic Dynamic: Politics in the German and Austrian Reichs, by Nicholas Marston (Princeton University Press, 1915). “I suggest you read up on the subject, as you'll be making a six-week speaking tour starting in October before accepting a professorship at City University, just in time for the spring semester.”

Cannon boggled at the tome, not to mention the extraordinary new circumstances his life had just assumed! “Th-Thank you, Mister President,” he stammered.

Turning to Shadowvixen, Wilson picked up the second envelope. “I can only hope, miss, that the contents of this packet will never see the light of day,” he said, tapping the edge of it absently. “But if it should ever become necessary, present this to the authorities. It contains a formal pardon, above my signature, absolving you of any and all violations of the law – local, state, and national – which you may have committed prior to this day, and of which you may be formally accused in the future. This pardon is issued in recognition of your 'unspecified services to the defense of the United States against enemies foreign and domestic.'”

The masked heroine took the envelope with remarkably steady hands, given her surprise. “Thank you, Mister President,” she managed to whisper.

The President of the United States nodded to them. “I believe that concludes our business, then – which, I need remind you, is and shall remain one of the deepest secrets of our government. Goodbye, and good luck to you both in the future.”

----------

Three nights later, at 8:00 PM sharp, Professor Nicholas Marston, Ph.D. – the former Nick Cannon, a name soon to be forgotten by all but a few – knocked on the door of the penthouse suite atop the Raleigh Hotel in Washington, DC. It was quickly opened by a middle-aged gentleman of Japanese ancestry.

“Konichi-wa, Marston-san,” said Kurosawa Mitsuru, attired in formal Western evening wear. Behind him, in traditional Japanese kimono, was his wife, Rani.

“Good evening, Mister Kurosawa. Is your mistress ready?”

“Indeed, Mister Marston. She awaits you within,” he said, stepping aside to let the visitor enter.

Nick took off his hat and looked around. Posh furnishing said he was stepping into privileged circles – something he was going to have to get used to. In the middle of the large room was a cloth-covered table that featured a candlelit dinner for two, with a chilled bottle of Pinot Blanc set aside and ready to pour. There was no sign of his dinner companion, however.

Mitsuru and Rani put on cloaks and hats – a light rain had just begun to fall outside – and he fetched an umbrella from a nearby stand. Nick looked at them quizzically. “Going out?” It wasn't like servants to not serve a meal.

“Our mistress expressed her desire to spend the evening alone with her gentleman caller,” Mitsuru explained, and then he looked at the younger man gravely. “Please understand, Mister Marston; this is something she has not done before. We have expressed some concerns to her about it. But – ”

“But, as one of your American sayings goes,” Rani finished for her husband, “there comes a time to let her leave the nest, so to speak.” She looked meaningfully at the younger American. “We have watched her grow up into a wonderful young woman, Mister Marston, and we would be most displeased if she were hurt where one can be the most vulnerable – in the heart. She has assured us, however, that such will not be the case with you.”

“It won't be,” Nick told them. “You have my word on that.”

“Good,” Mitsuru said. “That way, I will not have to beat you mercilessly until you are dead,” the former ninjitsu warrior warned with ever-so-gentle malice. He smiled at Nick, and then turned to his wife. “Come, Rani, the Japanese Embassy is demonstrating kabuki theater at nine, and we must not be late for it.”

“Goodnight, Mister Marston,” Rani said knowingly, before she was ushered out by her clucking husband.

Nick hung up his greatcoat and hat. Then, taking his box of sweets in hand, he moved over to the dinner table and set it down. “Quite a setup,” he remarked to himself, looking at the modest little feast. “I hope she doesn't intend to let it get cold.”

“That depends on what you have in mind,” came a soft feminine voice. And then the lights went out.

At once, the former secret agent’s hand moved to the concealed Luger he still kept in his jacket – until his conscious mind registered who'd said those words. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the candlelit darkness, he saw her. She noticed him noticing her, and moved toward him from the door to the master bedroom.

Jennifer Sherwood was dressed in soft white lace, the straps of her dress falling off her shoulders, the snug upper part of it hugging to every curve and showing just the right amount of cleavage, while the slit skirt in front daringly exposed her bare legs to mid-thigh as she walked, sensuously, towards the man she loved. She stopped a few feet from him, and twirled once upon slippered toes, causing the gauzy fabric to swirl about her, and showing off the fact that the dress exposed her bare back nearly to her waist. She looked at him adoringly with her sparkling blue eyes, and she had let down her wavy, honey-blonde tresses to fall about and just below her shoulders, just as she did “in the field”.

“You like?” Jennifer cooed.

“Very much,” Nick replied with an appreciative grin. Moving to her, he took her into his arms, and kissed her for what seemed like an eternity. She pulled herself into him, and enjoyed every second of their passionate embrace, until they finally broke to catch their breath.

“Oh, my...” she whispered with a dreamy expression upon her face. “If I'd known you kissed like that, sir, I'd have invited you earlier!”

“You didn't know me earlier,” he whispered back.

“I'm glad I do now,” she told him, and she kissed him again. When they broke off once more, she hugged him close, laying her head against his shoulder. “Nick?” she began hesitantly.

“Yes, darling?” he murmured into her hair. He'd never said that word before and really meant it.

“Will this mean the end of Shadowvixen?” Jennifer asked. “I mean, I'll give it up if that's what you want, to make this work.”

He looked down at her. “Are you serious?”

She looked back up at him and nodded.

Nick gave her a laugh and shook his head. “You forget – I fell in love with Shadowvixen, not Jennifer Sherwood. If they happen to be one and the same person, I'm fine with it.” He looked at her with love, but also with admiration. “If you gave that up, I might have to file for divorce.”

Jennifer chuckled. “That'd be a new one for the court! 'Your honor, I move for dismissal of marriage on the grounds my wife doesn't want to be a masked crusader any more!'” They both laughed at the thought...and of the possibility that soon, that marriage might become a reality.

“There’s supposed to be an engagement first,” Nick prompted. “A proper one, didn’t you say?”

She nodded. “We'll need to give it some thought, plan it out. This little visit of yours is strictly on the QT, thanks to some greasing of the right palms and a handy private elevator,” she said, then she began to tick off things on her fingers. “Formally, we'd need to be properly introduced, then a few 'coincidental' meetings at social gatherings – including the usual invitations to dance, obviously – then some separation time, then renewed interest, some chaperoned outings, then –” Jennifer was suddenly silenced by Nick's finger on her lips.

“Later, my dear. For now, let's just focus on the present. Care for dinner?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Later, like you said. Right now, I think I'd like to share some other secrets of mine with you. Some very intimate secrets,” the beautiful heiress whispered huskily in the voice he'd come to associate with her crime-fighting persona.

Nick smiled down at her. “Uncovering secrets is what we secret agents do best,” he mischievously told the woman he loved.

“You're not a secret agent any more, though,” she teased back.

“That's true.” His smile grew wider. “But I don't think I'll ever stop wanting to know all about you.”

“You'll need to conduct a very thorough investigation,” Jennifer cautioned with a sly look.

“Then I'd best get started, shouldn't I?” her lover replied....

And for the rest of that night, for these two heroes, it was the only investigation that mattered.

------------

Somewhere, far from either Washington or the City, a wicked man plotted wicked deeds.

“I'll have my revenge; oh, yes, I will!” the man who called himself “The Torturer” muttered under his breath. The fool of a German agent had never known that the rear seat of the now-destroyed airplane was capable of being jettisoned – with its occupant – and thrown clear to deploy a parachute. It was the only thing that had saved the villain's life.

“Just you wait, my pretty vixen. You may have cost me a fortune from the Kaiser, and cost me much time and effort away from my labors. But in the end, it is you who will pay the dearest cost! And you will learn the exquisite wisdom to be found in torment...before you die!”

With those words, Doctor Xavier Matthews began to laugh maniacally, alone in the Maryland backcountry, as he lost himself once more in the comfort of his own madness.