1955.

Senator Kelly Winchester’s face brightened at the sight of his old schoolmate William Finn, arm in arm with his new wife, Sylvia Madison — now Sylvia Finn. He pushed through the other partygoers celebrating his recent election at his family estate to shake Will’s hand.

“Willie, my boy! The ghosts of our past do have a way of haunting us, don’t they? I’m simply chuffed you found your way to my little bash. And here with your blushing bride as well? Sylvia, you finally caught this rambling bachelor, did you? What a coup! Bully for you. Always did make quite a team, you two. But tell me, is it your doing that Willie here walks with a cane? Too much honeymoon gymnastics, eh?”

The bullet wound of the previous year had fractured Will’s ribs, leaving him with short breath and a persistent ache. He never regained his old athletic stride. From that day forward, he walked with a snakewood cane topped with a silver Derby handle — a can he would one day pass on to his son.

“Oh, Kelly,” Sylvia said, “what a thought! No, my loving husband here took a spill during polo. Got distracted and lost his seat.”

“I swear,” Will added, “it was the most beautiful blue bunting imaginable. Cyanocompsa parellina. You know the bird?”

“I do not believe we’ve been introduced,” said Winchester. Will and Sylvia laughed as though Winchester were just as funny as he thought he was.

An assistant approached with a young woman carrying a notepad. “Senator, this is a reporter from the Titan City Gazette. She’d like a statement about replacing Senator Estes.”

“Damn shame,” Winchester said. “To lose such a fine patriot to a heart attack.”

Rumors still lingered about the death of Senator Fred Estes and about the incident at Mikado Imports. When Officer Goodman discovered Shadowmaster Sato Takeshi and his men in possession of a nuclear device, federal agents quickly intervened. The Bureau of National Safety ordered silence on the matter, including any mention of Estes’s murder abroad. No one wanted the public to lose faith in its government — or to know a nuclear bomb had nearly destroyed Titan City.

“And he was doing such good work closing in on that dastardly Crimson Wraith,” Winchester continued. “Though he made a few missteps, thinking you had something to do with it, my boy, dragging you before the CCA and all that. But we can’t fault him for trying, can we?”

Will raised his hand. “It made for a humorous story when I arrived at the club later.”

“Surely it did! Will, give us a few minutes, won’t you? And don’t leave before we’ve had a chance to discuss that matter I wrote you about.” He turned to Sylvia with a condescending pout. “Just between us men, my dear. You understand.”

“Don’t I ever,” she said with a playful eye roll. “Fear not. I’ll make sure he doesn’t slip away.”

“There’s a good girl,” Winchester said, slipping an arm around the reporter’s waist as he sauntered off.

Without changing her expression, Sylvia whispered, “That fathead can’t really suspect the truth about you, can he?”

“Without question,” said Will, “Kelly Winchester remains a stupendous ass. But aside from you, Chubby, and me, he’s the only other man alive who saw the Crimson Wraith in his first incarnation at Ellsworth.”

“I suppose he figured out you had a hand in that trick of ours too — since it was your ‘girlfriend’ who lured him into that graveyard.”

“Were you my girlfriend?” Will asked with a smile.

“Then and always,” Sylvia said, kissing his cheek.

Before this party, Winchester had sent Will a letter that read:

Dear William Finn,

I hear congratulations are in order, old boy! Wedded at last, and to Sylvia Madison, no less. Well done! Why, I think a man might lose his reason for such a woman. He might even follow her right past the gates of HELL on a moonlit NIGHT if he was not careful.

 Hope you’ll join me as I celebrate my victory in the senatorial race to replace poor Fred Estes. Who would have thought I had a GHOST of a chance? So I plan to make it a real RED letter day, with music, dancing, and enough champagne to split your SKULL.

There’s something I wish to speak with you about. Something personal. A matter of GRAVE importance, one that might be to your great advantage.

Quite a lark, your testimony before the CCA last year. Who would have thought you had anything to do with that dreadful Crimson Wraith? Why, a connection like that could ruin a man in Titan City.

There was little doubt what Winchester implied. Every capitalized word harkened back to that night at Ellsworth when Will first donned the skull mask and red cloak. He and Sylvia attended, determined to learn what the senator had planned.

Near midnight, as the guests thinned out, Will joined Winchester in his private office.

“Cigar, William?” Winchester asked.

“None for me, thank you,” Will said. “Had to give them up after the injury. Lungs don’t quite work as they used to.” He crossed to the window and cracked it open. “Hope you don’t mind a little draft. The air was thick down there.”

“Not at all,” Winchester said smoothly. “I’d like you to breathe easily. And you know what allows a man to breathe most easily, William?”

“What’s that, Kelly?”

“The truth.”

“Yes,” said Will, “I suppose it does.”

“The truth, William. The whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

Will chuckled. “So help you, God?”

“I think you’ll find I’m not the one who needs help.”

“I should say not. You’re at the start of what looks like a fine political career.”

“I am. The Winchesters have always done well in Titan City. We’ve always had the advantage — call it intellect, call it savvy. But mostly, we’ve known just a little more than the other fellow. And knowledge, William, is power.”

“It is indeed,” said Will. “Why, if I hadn’t known what a blue bunting looked like, I might’ve missed a beautiful sight, even if it cost my riding legs.”

“And if I hadn’t encountered the Crimson Wraith as a boy, I might’ve missed his true identity.”

“Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to share it with him,” Will said, pointing past the senator.

Winchester froze. The faint scent of sulfur touched his nostrils before he heard the whisper of wind through the curtains. Slowly, he turned.

Standing before the open window, cloak rippling in the cool night breeze, smoke curling around his boots, was the Crimson Wraith.

Winchester staggered backward, face white as marble, pointing first at Will, then at the masked figure. “You… but you… I was so sure!”

The Wraith’s voice filled the room, calm but resonant. “Forgive my intrusion, Senator. I only wished to offer my congratulations in person.”

Was it the thwarting of his blackmail or the shock of meeting the figure that had haunted him since youth that pushed Winchester to the edge of panic? “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, Crimson Wraith! Kelly Winchester isn’t afraid of you, not anymore! Take one step closer, and I’ll have you arrested faster than you can say Jack Robinson!”

The Wraith raised a gloved hand. “That is what I came to discuss. Since you’ve taken over for the late Senator Estes, I wondered if you might help me calm Titan City’s fears. My work should trouble only its criminals, not its citizens.”

“Help you? Me? Will, are you hearing this?”

“I am, Kelly,” Will said quietly. “Every word.”

Winchester sneered. “And what do you propose, Mr. Crimson Wraith?”

“After your swearing-in, I would like you to hold a press conference. Tell the city your career will usher in a new age of civility and decency. When you do, I will join you and present myself to Titan City.”

“Will you, indeed? Appearing from the gloom like some fearful phantom?”

“Not quite.” The Crimson Wraith reached within his hood and removed his skull mask. Beneath it, he wore a red domino over his eyes, concealing his identity while showing his humanity. He smiled and extended a gauntleted hand. “Let us make a bright new tomorrow together.”

Winchester stared, dazed, as he shook the Crimson Wraith’s hand. Color crept back into his cheeks, and any suspicion that William Finn had ever been the Crimson Wraith fled from his mind.

Seeing Edward wearing his very own mask as the Crimson Wraith, Will felt pride blossom in his chest, fierce and bittersweet. The orphan rescued by another orphan had at last become a hero of his own; and Will knew the Crimson Wraith need never die, only change his face from time to time.

The silver handle of Will’s cane caught the light, and for an instant, it gleamed like a torch being passed.