1954.

The mask felt strange to Eddie. As the Wily Wisp, the rest of his costume differed from his father’s only in color. But the skull of the Crimson Wraith was something else altogether.

Before most of the world had even heard of Titan City’s Scarlet Stranger, Eddie had met him in person. But the Blue Banshee had unmasked him in their fight just before, so it was the face of William Finn that greeted him. Eddie was one of a select few who never had to wonder at the Crimson Wraith’s secret identity — just him and Chubby, and apparently Sylvia too.

“I must say,” said Sylvia, dressed as Lady Luna, “it looks well on you.” 

They crouched side-by-side on a rooftop near the Brennert River docks, gazing through binoculars at the Mikado Imports warehouse. 

“Then perhaps our enemies will be fooled into believing that I truly am the Crimson Wraith,” said Eddie. 

His voice resonated with the ethereal echo given by the mask, completing his disguise. To Eddie’s ears, though, it did not sound like the voice of the Crimson Wraith but the voice of his father.

Before becoming the Wily Wisp, Eddie had most often seen the mask on its pedestal in the Crypt, where it sat during daylight hours, awaiting the Crimson Wraith’s next adventure. He never imagined wearing it himself.  The thought of touching the mask always gave him a sense of unease — an echo of the fear he felt when very young that it might, at any moment, begin to speak on its own.

“Would that be so foolish to believe?” said Sylvia. “No doubt your father’s spirit resides in you as well. Certainly, he has trained you for this very moment.”

What did she mean by that? Even as he had grown to take on responsibilities within Finn Industries, there had been no discussion of Eddie donning the mask of the Crimson Wraith himself.

Yet, even as she said it, he knew she must be right. His father took care to anticipate challenges and assess potential solutions. He had to have imagined such a day might come, and sooner than expected, even if it seemed unthinkable to Eddie.

Sylvia said, “You know, he was always the best of men, even back at school. He was a great teller of jokes and had a way of greeting acquaintances that made them feel like bosom pals. But only Chubby and I were intimate enough with him to recognize that your father held back a part of himself.

“I thought it had to do with his childhood, you know? Before old Josiah Finn adopted him. I knew that made him different in ways I could never truly understand. Now, though, seeing the man he became, I have to imagine the Crimson Wraith was always within him, waiting to emerge.”

He nodded, glad to have the mask concealing his expression. Her voice rang such wistful adoration that it pained Eddie to hear. Could his father’s feelings for her be just as strong?

Below them, the sound of a vehicle approaching made them lift their binoculars once more. 

“It appears we may have something,” said Sylvia. “A van. Driving with their headlights off.”

“Suspicious,” said Eddie. 

It parked in front of Mikado Imports, and two men exited. As they moved around to the van’s rear, the driver drew a revolver from his jacket, while his passenger readied a Tommy gun. They dragged a third man from the back of the van, keeping their weapons trained on him as he stumbled onto the pavement. His arms had been tied behind his back.

Although their captive wore a blindfold, Eddie recognized him from the Titan Capitol Building just the day before.

“Senator Estes! He’s been kidnapped! But why?”

“Whatever the reason,” said Sylvia, “his life is in the gravest danger. We had better approach carefully.”

Sylvia and Eddie slid down a rope attached to one of her grappling arrows and crept around discarded crates and barrels toward Mikado Imports, until they spied another gunman guarding its alley. He leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

“This alley looks like our best way in,” whispered Eddie. “I’ll have to get much closer before I can knock out our friend though.” 

“Perhaps a distraction then,” said Sylvia. She fired an arrow in a high arc, above the gunman’s line of sight. An empty Kronos-Kola bottle shattered in the dark.

The gunman aimed his weapon at the sound and began cautiously stepping toward it, until the Crimson Wraith’s cloak wrapped around his face, forcing him to inhale the knockout which gas Eddie released. He fell without firing a round. 

As Eddie bound his wrists and hid him under some empty sacks of rice, Sylvia fired a grappling arrow up to the rooftop. Together, they climbed to survey the interior through an open skylight.

Halfway up the warehouse walls, more gunmen stalked a metal walkway. Even more guarded the floor, which held stacks of wooden crates, some as tall as ten feet high. Golden Buddhas, watercolor scrolls, tea sets, gongs, and chopsticks adorned rows of shelves — treasures to tempt tourists visiting Titan City’s Little Tokyo. 

And at its center, covered in a canvas sheet, sat something large and round, connected by wires to machines whose lights blinked steadily.

Eddie whispered, “I believe we’ve found Shadowmaster’s nuclear bomb.”

“Do you think it’s armed?” said Sylvia.

“I don’t know, but we need to free the senator before we find out.”

“They must be keeping him there.” She pointed to an enclosure up in a corner of the walkway, at the top of a set of stairs leading from the warehouse floor — most likely the foreman’s office. Blinds had been drawn over its windows, but a light shone within.

“That looks like the place,” said Eddie. “Let’s thin this crowd along the way. I count five on the ground, six up above. Do you want high or low?”

“You work the floor,” said Sylvia. “I can take out most of the walkway from here.” She readied a quiver of weighted, blunt-tipped arrows to deliver distant knock-out blows.

Eddie secured one of his grappling irons and slid silently down a rope into Mikado Imports. Stalking his way from one gunman to the next, he pounced on them in the dark, disarming and disabling them. As he carved a path of unconscious bodies slumped in the shadows, he occasionally looked up to see Sylvia’s progress. 

There was no denying her skill. Sylvia’s targets fell quietly, one after the other, as they came into the range of her attacks.

Perhaps she was doing more than just amusing herself with crime-fighting after all. What would his father think, seeing her in action? Would each gunman whose skull she rang sound to him like wedding bells?

Eddie reached the steps and began ascending toward the office. From within, he heard maybe three other men with the senator, no doubt all armed. Just like in the alleyway, a distraction could be useful for such a confined space with plenty of lighting. He looked back to Sylvia and found her shimmying down the rope to join him.

After she landed, Eddie indicated with a gesture that she should fire an arrow at the window around the corner from the office door. She nodded, and he readied a trio of explosive pellets — one flash, two smoke. Sylvia’s arrow flew. The window shattered.

As shouts erupted, Eddie flung open the door and noted the positions of those within — two gunmen sitting, one standing, and Estes bound to a chair, blindfolded. He then hurled his pellets to the ground and guarded his eyes from the flash. Thick, sulfurous smoke engulfed the room. 

Eddie delivered his first blows to the standing gunman before driving his opponent’s face into his knee. The smoke-dimmed outlines of the other two showed them rise to swing their weapons wildly in confusion. They shouted in Japanese, but although he could make out understand their words, he heard them use the name “Crimson Wraith.”

Of course, thought Eddie. Who else would they expect?

Ducking low under their gun arms, he rose up sharply with an uppercut to one, then entangled the other’s weapon in his cape, and finished him with a roundhouse kick before the smoke even cleared.

Bound in his seat, Estes blubbered in panic. “Is that the police? Help! Please, help! Please!”

The irony was just too amusing — Senator Estes saved by the very vigilante he had sought to destroy. Eddie pulled the senator’s blindfold free to let him gaze upon the skeletal face of his rescuer.

“You!” gasped Estes.

“Me,” said Eddie.

“But—but—but… You can’t…”

“I understand this may be something of a shock, senator. Although you may not be my biggest fan, that does not change my mission.”

“I, uh… Well, I…”

“Perhaps we can discuss that later. First, let me get you to safety.”

“Yes! Please! Oh, thank you!”

Eddie dropped to his knees and pulled the Utility Blade from his boot. The ropes biting into Estes’ wrists cut deep. Not wanting to leave a wound that might sour his gratitude toward the Crimson Wraith, Eddie sawed carefully. Hemp fibers frayed under each stroke, until finally, he was free.

“There you are. Now, right this way, senator.” He held out his hand to help which Estes accepted, swaying unsteadily as he rose.

“It seems as though I may have misjudged you, Crimson Wraith.”

“Let’s save that conversation until you’re safe back home,” said Eddie. “And you can also tell me how these men came to find you. Their leader, Shadowmaster, is still at large, and the details of your abduction may lead to his capture.”

“Shadowmaster?” Estes gasped. “But I thought you defeated him years ago!”

“Another discussion for later. Please, follow me.” 

As Eddie walked ahead of the senator, he could not help but imagine what the headline of The Titan Gazette might read the next day, perhaps CRIMSON WRAITH SAVES SENATOR! He could imagine the pride in his father’s smile as the paper hit their breakfast table, with a cheer of “Gosh!” and “Well done, Eddie!” from Chubby.

Would this lead the CCA to drop its investigation? Could the Crimson Wraith’s name be spoken with reverence instead of fear? Might the public even allow him to come forth from the shadows and receive their embrace?

Suddenly, a silver arrowhead shone with a deadly gleam. Sylvia stood at the foot of the stair, bowstring pulled taut, aiming up at him.Eddie froze. Triumph drained from him with a cold shiver, and a single word flashed within his mind: Betrayal!