1940.

The Blue Banshee’s eyes burned with maniacal fury through jagged slashes torn in the shapeless hood that concealed his face. Across from him, the Crimson Wraith met his gaze, the dark and seemingly-hollow sockets of his skull mask betraying nothing. On the rooftop of the Finn Industries warehouse, they stood — cloaks billowing in the same restless breeze. This would be their final confrontation.

In tones as somber as the grave, the Crimson Wraith called out, “You don’t have to make this any worse. Surrender now and you may find that justice has mercy. It’s not too late.”

“Oh, but it is too late,” the Blue Banshee snarled. “Far, far too late indeed. But not for me, you see. No, for those poor desperate orphans you’ve come seeking.”

“You’re a monster,” said the Crimson Wraith. “Where are they?”

The Crimson Wraith took a step forward. “You fiend! Where are they?”

The Blue Banshee’s gloved hand gestured toward the rooftop door. “Can’t you hear them? Their cries rising with the smoke? And you know what they say — where there’s smoke…” He threw the door open with a laugh. “There’s fire!” From the depths below, a chorus of terrified children’s voices mingled with the acrid scent of burning timber. 

There was no time to waste. The Crimson Wraith launched himself toward his foe, hurling a flash pellet as he did. But the Blue Banshee leaped out of the way, dodging the explosion of light before deploying a weapon of his own. He reached for the strange device attached to his belt and, with the push of a button, sundered the air with a deafening siren scream. 

The Crimson Wraith staggered, hands clamped over his ears. It was all the opening the Blue Banshee needed. A savage uppercut sent the Crimson Wraith reeling, followed by a rain of brutal blows. He fell to his knees, his vision swimming.

But the Crimson Wraith was not yet defeated. His arms shot forward to snatch the Blue Banshee’s sonic weapon and send it sailing over the rooftop’s edge to shatter on the street below. Blessed silence followed, but the Blue Banshee did not relent. A kick sent the Crimson Wraith sprawling backward.

“It seems I underestimated you again,” the Blue Banshee sneered. “And so this little game of ours continues.”

The Crimson Wraith groaned, “Only a madman makes a game of death.”

“Mad am, I? Mad? And who made me so?” With that, the Blue Banshee tossed his mask to the ground, revealing a face the Crimson Wraith had never imagined seeing again.

“Robert? Robert Caine?”

“That’s right, Crimson Wraith.”

“But you died!”

“So, did you, William Finn.” He ripped away the Crimson Wraith’s mask to expose the bloodied face of the boy who grew to manhood alongside him. “Or should I call you ‘brother’?” 

“You gave up the right to call me ‘brother’ when you murdered our father, just like you tried to murder me.”

“Why must you insist on calling Josiah Finn ‘father’ when he ignored me, his only true son, to lavish attention on an orphan plucked from the street? An orphan just like that gutter trash I left tied below us. Do you think anyone will care to remember their names after they’ve burned to nothing? Not that you have to worry about that for long. Your ashes will soon be mingling with theirs.” The Blue Banshee laughed. “Finally, vengeance is mine!”

Will could not let those innocents suffer the wrath that was meant for him. It was not just, and it was justice that inspired William Finn to first don the mask and cloak to defend the defenseless, not as any mortal man but as a specter risen from his grave — the Crimson Wraith!

With a cry, Will drove his fist into the side of Robert’s knee. Another strike followed, then another and another. Robert fell, and Will rolled on top of him, continuing to punish the joint over and over, until finally he took hold of his opponent’s blue boot and gave it a vicious wrench. Bone shattered under flesh. Robert screamed. He would never walk unaided again.

Leaving his crippled opponent wailing like his otherworldly namesake, Will stumbled to the rooftop doorway and descended the stairs into the building, into the flames. There were, in fact, no more cries from the Blue Banshee’s captives. They had all lost consciousness, and Will found the children slumped in the ropes that held them bound. With a utility blade pulled from his boot, Will began to cut them free.

The oldest boy, just a few months shy of ten, coughed himself back to consciousness and gazed up at his rescuer. Ash and terror covered his face.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Will. “You’re going to be okay. Can you stand?”

The boy nodded and slowly got to his feet.

“Good. Now, what’s your name?”

Across the room, a piece of ceiling crashed into the fire that tore at it from the rapidly spreading inferno. The boy started, seemingly on the verge of panic.

“Stay with me.” Will brought his face close to the boy. “Tell me your name.”

“Eddie,” the boy croaked.

“All right, Eddie. I’m Will. And I need your help to get the smaller kids to safety. Can you do that for me?”

Eddie nodded. “Yes, sir.”

As the two set to work, Will kept his young assistant close and coached him at every step. “Keep your head low. Yes, just like that. You’re doing a good job.”

Soon, they had all the children down the stairs, safe on the sidewalk. Then Will ran back up to what remained of the roof so that he could collect Robert and finally make him stand trial for his crimes. But he was nowhere to be found. All that remained of their fight were their two masks lying where they’d fallen. Will took both.

Suddenly, the rooftop groaned beneath his feet. Without a second’s hesitation, he threw a grappling iron around a metal railing and launched himself over the side of the building. The structure crumbled in flames behind him.

Out on the sidewalk, a safe distance down the street from the blazing rubble, Will found the orphans starting to regain consciousness. Eddie held the youngest child, who coughed and coughed in his arms. In the distance, the clamor of fire trucks drew near.

“You saved us, sir,” Eddie said to him.

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir.’ Just Will. Now, I want you to do me one more favor, okay? The firefighters are on their way. Police will be here, too. I want you to do whatever they ask and answer all their questions. But, please, don’t tell them my name or say that you saw my face. Can you do that for me?”

Eddie nodded.

“You’re a good boy, Eddie. I’m very proud of you.” Will put his gloved hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Tonight, you were a hero.”

As Will started to turn away, Eddie called out, “Am I ever going to see you again?”

“I promise.” Will smiled. “And when you do, I want you to pretend that you’ve never met me before, okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Will.”

“Just Will.” He said with a smile before slipping the skull mask over his face, giving his voice an ethereal echo once more. “Remember, only very special people get to know the secret of the Crimson Wraith.”

When the authorities questioned him, Eddie stayed true to his word. He told only the details he was asked to tell and gave no secrets away. The children returned to their orphanage, and in the weeks that followed, Eddie awed the others with the story of the mysterious figure who had saved them, a man who seemed like a nightmare in red but was in fact gentle and kind.

It was a real thrill when millionaire industrialist William Finn visited their orphanage soon after. He said that he felt awful their ordeal had taken place at one of his properties, and he wanted to make an in-person donation. In addition to a sizable check made out to the orphanage, he brought them all new clothes, new shoes, and a small library of new books to educate and entertain. There was even a bit of chocolate for each of them.

When he got to shake hands with the oldest boy who had helped the others escape, Will praised his bravery as if he had not witnessed it first-hand.

“Eddie, I think that shows a lot of character,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Finn.”

“Please, call me Will.”

“Yes, sir,” Eddie couldn’t suppress a smile.

“I think you have great things ahead of you, Eddie. I really do. So, I’d like to ask you a question. Would you like to come home with me and live in my house and be my son?”

Tears leaped into Eddie’s eyes. “Please.” And a young Edward Burton threw himself into William Finn’s outstretched arms.