2019.

Gracie didn’t mind the little specks of rain drizzling down the windows of the Lincoln-Zephyr. Weather like this made people more quiet, and, in her experience, that made them a little more gentle, easier to deal with. 

She would have preferred to be wearing something soft and warm though, not her courier suit. It was too crisp, too new. Even though it fit well, it didn’t feel like it was hers yet. But she understood she had to look a certain way for a prison visit.

The wipers pulsed steadily as Stephen drove and Kevin rode in the back beside her, telling her about the man they were going to see at Titan City Correctional.

Kevin said, “My mentor, Michael, he liked Hank a lot. Michael said that Hank had a really big heart, that he did all his thinking with it. He hated being the one to turn Hank over to the police, but it was what Hank wanted. And, that being the case, Michael wanted to be there for him.”

“Our Michael felt responsible for Mr. Mills,” said Stephen. “Had he taken on the role of the Crimson Wraith after Adam’s passing, Hank may not have felt the need to do so. And that did not end well for him.”

“Right,” Gracie said. “Because instead of the Crimson Wraith, Michael made himself that all-black costume. With the Z-name. The car one.”

“The Zephyr,” said Kevin.

“It means a light breeze,” Stephen said. “Something subtle. Hard to catch. Named for the Greek god of the west wind.”

“A car, a wind, and a god. Got it,” Gracie said. “So Adam dies, and there’s no Crimson Wraith for a while. So, Hank just… steps in?”

“Exactly,” said Kevin. “And he turned out to be pretty effective. Maybe he was the kind of Crimson Wraith people needed then.”

“We did connect with him, in time,” said Stephen. “Edward wished to welcome him formally and offered to support his work. Initially, Hank declined the offer, but his Wily Wisp, Jasmine, prevailed on Mr. Mills to accept some financial support. Edward acquired for them a two-bedroom apartment to serve as base of operations.”

“Jasmine,” Gracie said. “She was the one in the sequins?”

Stephen smiled faintly, “Yes, she was quite a remarkable character.”

“Okay,” Gracie said. “There’s still something I don’t get. You all say the Crimson Wraith helped you before you got involved. Did he help Hank too?”

“Sort of,” Kevin said. “Adam arrested him.”

Gracie frowned. “I thought Michael turned him in.”

“That was his second arrest,” Kevin said. “The first came years earlier, from Adam. Hank was convicted of manslaughter for the death of his wife.”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Gracie said. “The guy who became the Crimson Wraith murdered his wife?”

“Not murder,” said Kevin. “Manslaughter. Apparently, it was an accident, a domestic dispute that got out of control. He pushed her. She fell down a flight of stairs. When he realized what he had done, he ran. But as the Crimson Wraith, Adam caught him and convinced him to turn himself over to the police. So, Hank did. He pleaded guilty and served five years in prison.”

“Still missing how he becomes a Crimson Wraith from that,” said Gracie.

“After his release, Hank heard the Crimson Wraith was gone, and he experienced a kind of calling,” said Kevin. “Michael told me that he took to the Crimson Wraith’s mission as a kind of penance for his wife’s death.”

“Fucking hell,” Gracie muttered.

There was silence in the car. Gracie turned to the window. They passed by a billboard announcing, 2-for-1 Everything Bagel Burgers at Burger Bagel! Another one read, Catch the BUZZ! Every morning on ‘Coffee With Cassandra!’ You won’t BELIEVE it!

Knowing one Crimson Wraith was in prison for killing a man who “deserved it,” as Danny had put it, was one thing. Killing his wife though, accident or no, that sat like something cold and squirmy in Gracie’s stomach. 

She thought of her parents. The shouting. The things thrown. Sometimes she saw her dad slap her mom. Sometimes she saw her mom slap her dad. Always afterward, the quiet pretending it hadn’t happened.

What if one of those fights had gone too far? What if her dad had killed her mom, just like Hank had his wife. 

Would her dad be capable of a prison transformation where he left full of remorse and wanting to protect others as the Crimson Wraith? Or would he have to have been a certain type of person beforehand? Could just anyone be a monster one day and a hero the next?

Gracie couldn’t believe that.

It may have been easier for Michael, Kevin, and the rest of the Crimson Wraith crew to overlook violence against a woman, being men. Still, she had come to trust these people, and they trusted Hank. So, she resigned herself to withholding a tiny smidgen of judgment until she could see what he was like in person.

“Ok,” she said, “the person Hank killed who landed him back in prison — who was that?”

“The Troubadour,” Kevin said.

“The second Troubadour,” Stephen corrected.

Kevin nodded. “The second.”

“How many were there?” Gracie asked.

“So far?” said Kevin. “Two.”

“The second Troubadour had nothing to do with the first,” said Stephen. 

“In the sixties,” Kevin began, “a young theater student…”

“Esteban Valentino,” said Gracie. “I read about him.”

Stephen glanced at her in the mirror. “You did?”

“Sure did, in Nights of Justice. Cuban ancestry. Said he was making statements about the status quo. That ‘statement’ involved armed robbery, but no one actually got hurt. Sounded like he even had a fanbase even from the — what was that word he used?”

“Was it ‘counterculture’?” asked Stepehn.

“That’s it! They thought he was sticking it to ‘the Man.’ But the Crimson Wraith caught him in a thing with the Spirit of Prosperity, and that was kind of the end of it. Sounded like he must have gone straight after his release.”

Kevin smiled. “Sounds like your studying is paying off.”

Gracie shrugged. “I mean, it’s all pretty fucking relevant to me right now, not like memorizing the names and dates of Civil War battles in high school.”

“But your reading hasn’t reached the second Troubadour yet?” Kevin said.

“Guess I haven’t gotten that far.” 

“He came right at the end of Goodman’s career. The second Troubadour was part of what made Goodman ready to retire. His real name was Bolland Moore. He wore the same mask as the first Troubadour, and he seemed to consider himself an artist, but with a big difference.” 

“He was a copycat?” asked Gracie. 

“He was a monster,” said Stephen. 

“What kind of monster?” 

“A serial killer,” said Kevin.