1954.

All throughout the Titan City Capitol chambers, onlookers edged forward in their seats, eager for William Finn’s response. News reports held pencils at the ready, some toward the exit to see just how quickly they could phone their editors with what would surely be tomorrow morning’s headline. Even if Will had no confession regarding the Crimson Wraith, proof of his frequenting a bar that catered to the secret homosexuals of Titan City would provide a glorious scandal.

That was the real purpose of the CCA after all. A body like that did not truly exist for public safety but political power. It created an imaginary war in which its members stood on the side of the righteous. Outing a pillar of the community like William Finn would strengthen its claim that things were going on in the shadows that did not meet with public approval, stoking fears of what else might be happening unseen.

Eddie saw the confusion in his father’s expression, and for a moment, their gazes met. It was a rare thing to catch the Crimson Wraith off-guard, and the shock, wonder, and hurt were nothing he had ever seen Will express before.

He thought he had been careful visiting the Innocents Club. Would he still have gone had he known how it would put Will at risk? Those nights of truly feeling like himself and reveling in the company of others who felt the same — how could they possibly be worth it? 

“On what dates,” said Will, “did you say my Skylark was parked at that establishment?”

“See for yourself. “ A bailiff handed Will one of Senator Estes’s documents. 

As Will looked over them, he asked, “What is the location of the Innocence Club?”

“It doesn’t seem like I need to tell you, but I’ll play along. Reinhardt Street.”

“Reinhardt?”

“Yes, Mr. Finn. Reinhardt Street. Does that jog some memories for you?”

“It certainly does. I have a business on Reinhardt street.”

“You do?”

“Yes, that’s the sales office for one of my textile export firms — fourth floor of the Wertham Building.”

An aide came and whispered into Senator Estes’s ear. He was unable to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. “I am told…” he sighed, “…that the Wertham Building stands around the corner from the Innocents Club.”

Will beamed. “Ah, there you have it! I must confess to spending more late nights at the office than I ought. But I’m sorry I cannot claim a more interesting nightlife than that.”

Some chuckles from the gallery. Reporters lowered their pencils. There would be no public bloodbath to slake the thirst of either that day.

The CCA released Will and thanked him for his cooperation. Eddie rose to join his father and the two left swiftly. When they appeared to be alone, Will said softly, “You’ve been working very hard on those textile accounts lately, son?”

“I have,” said Eddie. “I really have.”

“Good,” said Will. “You’ve never given reason to doubt you.”

Eddie felt anguish writhe in his chest. At twenty-two, he was already a man of secrets. After all, he had been raised by a man of secrets. And one of Eddie’s secrets was where he had discovered he could find a feeling of love like he had never known before.

As they continued their way out of the building, Will said, “You know, when I was a young man in London, sneaking away from the pomp and propriety of my public life, I saw a lot of things there.”

“What kind of things?” said Eddie. 

“All kinds. It’s a big world, Eddie, bigger than most want to think. And that does not mean it’s bad. Sometimes there are good people in places where others don’t want to look.”

What was Will implying? Did he already know the things Eddie had only learned about himself recently? And if so, was he not ashamed? 

A voice interrupted them. “Mr. Finn?”

Both turned to see a thick-set man in glasses. “Can I help you?” said Will.

“Well, sir, I do not know. I have been reaching out to everyone who has stood upon that stand. You see, I have information I need to get into the proper hands, and I do not know if those hands are your hands.”

“How would I know,” said Will, “if my hands are the hands you seek?”

“Your hands would be the right hands if you know how to get in touch with the person about whom you have just been questioned.”

“So, we should be all hand-in-hand, as it were? Quite the romantic story don’t you think, Eddie?”

Affecting his usual role of the bored rich kid, Eddie yawned. “Maybe we should scram before the men in the white coats come.” 

“If you think I might be crazy, then you are not the one I need. Good day.” 

As the man began to walk away, Will called out to him. “What exactly are you going to tell the one you are looking for?” 

But he kept walking.

Will turned to Eddie. “What do your instincts tell you, son?”

“That he has something pretty darn serious to share with you-know-who.”

“Agreed, and it seems like something that someone should hear. I want you to get a window seat at the diner across the street. If that man leaves, follow him. When he gets to his destination, send a message on your Radio Wrist Communicator. I’ll meet you there.”

“Where will you be?”

“Back home to get the two of us a change of clothes,” he said with a wink. “If we have a date with destiny tonight, it’s important we be properly dressed.”

For an hour, Eddie sat at the Starpoint Diner. He picked at a slice of pie and sipped his coffee, one eye on The Titan Gazette’s comic strips, the other on the door across the street. The sun began to set, stretching the shadows of skyscrapers across the streets below. 

Finally, the man who had approached them about the Crimson Wraith made his way down the steps. Eddie tossed a few coins on the counter before heading out to tail him. He whispered into his Radio Wrist Communicator, “Specter Second to Crypt. Target in motion, and following. Do you copy?”

Will’s voice came in reply, “Copy that, Specter Second. Proceed as directed.”

The man changed direction enough times that Eddie realized he must be expecting to be followed. It required Eddie to keep close, which increased his chance of being spotted. But Eddie had dressed for this, with a reversible jacket, a fedora that could vanish into his pocket, and glasses he could slip on in stride. Each time the man looked back over his shoulder, he wouldn’t see the same shape twice.

When went inside an office building, Eddie radioed the address to Will and entered the lobby just as elevator doors were closing. Eddie watched lights above indicate the elevator traveling to the seventh floor and stopping. 

In minutes, Chubby arrived in one of their plain white vans, which he parked in a nearby alleyway. Night had fallen, and Eddie joined his father in the back of the van. The two emerged from the shadows in their masks as none other than the Crimson Wraith and Wily Wisp.

The two began to ascend the building, first leaping to the fire escape from the top of Chubby’s van, then creeping up the steps to the seventh floor. They found it dark inside. Most of the offices had closed for the day. But down that hallway, a solitary light burned behind a glass-paneled door that read Maxwell W. Gaines, Accounting.

“Let’s see what business Mr. Gaines has with the Crimson Wraith,” said Will.

“Are we just going to go up there and knock?” asked Eddie.

“Of course,” said Will. “We don’t want to be rude.”

Suddenly, a very rude sound came from within the office — gunshots. Five of them. Accompanied by flashes of light. 

Will and Eddie broke into a run. Then came the sound of shattering glass, and two men exploded through the accountant’s doorway — guns in hand, fear on their faces. 

One clutched a manilla folder to his chest. The other had an arrow with a sparkling silver shaft embedded in his shoulder. A spreading patch of blood darkened his coatsleeve. The startled gunmen collided into Will and Eddie, and all tumbled to the ground. 

One of the gunmen wailed, “And the Crimson Wraith too?” He tried to get back to his feet, but Eddie grappled him. 

“Not so fast! You know it’s rude to leave in the middle of a dance.” Eddie grabbed the arrow from the gunman’s shoulder and wrenched it free. He dropped his pistol with a scream.

Then Eddie heard another gunshot and turned to see the Crimson Wraith recoil, clutching his abdomen. 

“No!” He hurled a flash bomb at the attacker. The second gunman dropped his weapon, and both fled down the hall as Eddie knelt at his father’s side.

“Where did he get you?”

In a voice thick with pain, Will gasped. “We can’t let them get away!”

Eddie did as commanded and ran to the stairwell the gunmen had taken. Hearing the sound of their footsteps above, Eddie followed upward, onto the rooftop. There, he saw them running toward the edge, appearing ready to jump to their deaths. 

He grabbed two pellets of choking gas, but before he could throw them, two silver arrows flew out of the night, embedding themselves in one gunman’s calf and the other’s posterior. Both went down.

Eddie spun around to see who had fired those silver arrows and saw a woman in a domino mask dressed head-to-toe in silver. Her shimmering blonde hair appeared to glow in the moonlight. 

“Who are you?” he asked.

“A friend,” she said.

“What can I call you, friend?”

“Call me Lady Luna.” Then she gasped. “Stop them!”

Not feeling there was time to question this interloper, Eddie ran to the gunmen. They had begun convulsing. Vile-smelling foam bubbled from their lips. 

“What on Earth?” said Eddie.

“Cyanide pills,” said Will, who had silently joined them on the rooftop. One hand clutched the wound in his side. “It takes dedication to take your secrets to the grave. These men were more than merely hired muscle.” 

He turned to Lady Luna, “And you seem more than merely a woman. No doubt you hide secrets of your own behind that mask.”

“Oh, Will,” she said. “Why should I keep any secrets from you?” 

She slipped the silver domino mask from her face, and Lady Luna revealed herself to be none other than the girl who had been at the Crimson Wraith’s very first appearance in a little church graveyard.

With a note of longing that Eddie had never heard in his father’s voice before, Will gasped, “Sylvia?”