agent_sheng

Report Part 2

Mon, 23 Jan 2006 16:28:32 GMT

Agent Zhao Zhen Sheng: Report Part 2

Journey into Darkness

I am not sure when, or if, my seniors in the League of Shadows will receive this report. The previous portion of my report ended with myself and the odd group of individuals that I am working with preparing to begin the trip into the deepest parts of the Amazon jungle. Our search began with the desire to save the reporter, Ms. Gettel, by ascertaining the origins and destination of her kidnappers, referred to as the Three. That search was expanded to include saving two lost Aeon agents, Socrates Gold and Safari Jack, both of whom had disappeared in the heart of rain forest, in an area known to be the territory of the mysterious Black Ghost tribe.

Our trip began just before dawn on the day after our arrival in South America. Our guide, Rick O’Connell, made sure we had everything we needed and we set off early. The first portion of the trip was made by boat. We followed the river deep into the jungle, during which time several of our number were outfitted with Mr. Irons’ newest inventions, but nothing else of note occurred.

After a day’s travel along the river, we landed at a safe point and made camp for the evening. It was to be our last night of relative peace until our arrival in the heart of the jungle. As we set off the next morning, Mr. O’Connell and I took point, carving through the thick growth. Jackson Free and Mr. Hobbes, the amazing mountain gorilla with human intelligence, served as scouts, working their way through the trees with fantastic agility.

After a day’s hard travel thus, we finally arrived at the first marker. There, carved into a tree with remarkable ingenuity, was that same spiral mark that we first saw on the forehead of the unfortunate soldier whose death we witnessed. We had arrived at the territory of the Black Ghost tribe.

We decided to camp just outside of Black Ghost territory, hoping not to attract too much attention yet. It was a fruitless endeavor. Half way through the long night, Mr. Free and Ms. Henderson awakened us all. It seems they had heard a loud and unusual buzzing sound, and now an acrid smoke was pouring into the camp. Mr. Free had gone to find the source of the sound and quickly returned with dire news. It seemed that a swarm of insects that looked to be a twisted cross between locusts and roaches was flying toward us, seemingly following the smoke. To make matters worse, from what Mr. Free could tell, these insects were laying waste to everything in their path, including whole trees and animals, meaning that the swarm was deadly.

We acted quickly. Mr. Irons’ ingenuity was proven yet again, for his new equipment worked masterfully, allowing us to dig under the ground with incredible speed, tunneling our way to safety. Rick O’Connell bravely wrapped himself in our entire stock of insect netting, braving the swarm in order to find and stop the source of the smoke. Mr. Irons’ communication equipment, which I cannot speak highly enough of, allowed Mr. O’Connell to guide us along in the direction he was traveling.

Even as powerful as Mr. Irons’ tunneling equipment was, Rick soon outpaced us. However, he came to no harm, as the insect netting served him well, surviving just long enough for him to make it past the tail end of the swarm. When we surfaced in order to join back up with him, he showed us what had truly transpired.

First, he gave us a specimen of the insect to examine. When Dr. Bauer studied it, he immediately concluded that it had to have been engineered, scientifically bred by someone. It was a creature specifically designed to lay waste to anything organic. It was the size of a human hand, in shape and color much like a common cockroach, but its mandibles were powerful enough to take out chunks of human flesh if given the opportunity. In a swarm such as the one we had encountered, an insect of this kind could be devastating to all life around it.

Second, O’Connell showed us where the smoke had come from. Limbs and kindling from an odd kind of tree had been placed in that same spiral, lit, and the smoke had been fanned in our direction. Noticeably, the power of the wind that drove the smoke toward was incredible, making the single leaf fan, even if wielded by an incredibly powerful individual, incapable of driving the smoke and insect swarm our way. However, O’Connell insisted that when he had arrived, there was only one individual there, though he had only seen his eyes. That man or woman had quickly fled at Rick’s approach, leaving behind the evidence.
It seemed that the Black Ghost tribe had known of our presence for some time, and had attempted to drive us away before we could cross into their territory. They had only succeeded in making us more determined, it seemed. Then, though it was still deep night, we decided to continue on, knowing that no rest would be safe for us now.

We pushed on wearily through the night. As dawn broke the next day, we began seeing clearings in the dense foliage. The ground became sodden and marshy, and we at last experienced the live forms of the deadly foliage that Dr. Bauer had discovered in our warehouse experience. We traveled with more and more caution, for here everything was deadly. In every instance where we encountered carnivorous flora, Dr. Bauer acted quickly, spraying a powerful plant poison that he had developed with this trip in mind. As had every invention of Dr. Bauer’s, the spray worked incredibly well, quickly destroying even the toughest of the deadly plants.

After many grueling hours of slogging through the soggy marshland, we finally made it to the edge of a large inland lake. Rick O’Connell almost stepped in the water, but Dr. Bauer wisely stopped him. Unpacking his chemical analysis equipment, Dr. Bauer tested the water. What he found amazed him, but just as quickly aroused his suspicions.

The entire lake was filled with mutagenic chemicals, the nature of which was so unstable that he could not be sure what effect would take place if a human being were to come in contact with it. More importantly, Dr. Bauer could not conceive of any way that these chemicals could have occurred naturally. We were on the verge of discovering something incredibly important, but we had to continue on.

Once again, Mr. Iron’s new equipment proved its usefulness. With it we were able to quickly cut enough lumber to make a large raft, and between us, we were able to braid enough makeshift rope and gather enough mud to make the craft sea-worthy. And for the last, to ensure that no water could seep up under the planking of the raft, Mr. Hobbes leapt on it, splashing water onto the top of it, which Dr. Bauer then quick froze using another one of his masterfully created chemical concoctions.

Mr. Hobbes and Jackson Free then guided us into the water using tall poles. As we floated on, we got closer to what we had guessed were small islands of mud in the lake. That assumption was proved false. When we approached the first one, it moved! A sinuous form suddenly glided toward us, its wake showing it to be at least 40 feet in length! Suddenly, out of the water shot the largest crocodile we had ever seen!

Its massive jaws would have made short work of our raft, and us but Ms. Trace Henderson somehow caught its attention. As her eyes locked onto it, the massive head turned this way and that, as if trying to find the source of some sound it alone could hear. After a few short moments though, the beast seemed to shake off its confusion, focusing on us once more.

And then, perhaps the most peculiar thing I have ever seen occurred. Ms. Henderson never went anywhere without Errol, a large reptile much like a komodo dragon, though I have never seen a komodo dragon as intelligent as this. As large as Errol was, he was tiny and insignificant compared to the enormous crocodile that seemed about to crush us. Still, Errol leapt into the water, quickly swimming so that he was nose to nose with the gigantic creature. The crocodile’s massive jaws opened, and it seemed about to attack, but suddenly, an emotion actually crossed its features. As amazing as it was to see any emotion at all in the reptilian form, to see fear was even more astounding! The crocodile seemed truly frightened by this little creature, Ms. Henderson’s friend, Errol.

As the encounter with the first beast had captured our attention, other creatures of similar size had surrounded our vessel. However, one by one, Errol confronted the beasts, and one by one they fled in fear. As remarkable as this was, the story that Ms. Henderson had to tell us next was even more incredible.

At last, Ms. Henderson revealed more of the nature of her mysterious powers. It seems that she can truly communicate with animals, not verbally, but directly with their minds. In an effort to persuade it to stave off its attack, she had touched the mind of the massive crocodile. Ms. Henderson seemed convinced that she would have succeeded as well, for the crocodile was incredibly intelligent for a reptile of its type, somehow a very specific set of instructions had been so hardwired into its biology that she could not dissuade it. It seems that the Black Ghost tribe had some among it that could do as she was able to, in that they could directly touch the minds of the creatures. Over time, a powerful biological drive had been built into them. They must protect the Black Ghost tribe and destroy all others. And yet, puzzlingly, while she could not turn them aside, somehow Errol had been able to. Even Ms. Henderson, who had kept company with Errol for many years, was somewhat puzzled by this.

Moreover, it seemed that the Three had indeed visited. However, and the great beast’s memories were clear on this, it had been many months since they had been in this area, meaning that they were most certainly not now here with Ms. Gettel. That unexpected setback did not deter us, for our purpose could still be served by continuing our journey. After all, we had Socrates Gold and Safari Jack still to rescue, and any information to be found on the activities of the Three and their master seemed worth the struggle.

So, with these thoughts to digest, we pressed on. At last, we reached the shore of a large island at the center of the lake. As the last of us disembarked our faithful vessel, something seemed to catch Jackson Free’s attention.

He stepped forward, eyes locked on something he saw in the shadows ahead of us. Quickly, assuming that catlike grace that Mr. Free has distinguished himself by, he moved ahead, outpacing us by several yards, disappearing into the foliage ahead. When the rest of plowed through the growth, we found Mr. Free locked in a deadly contest of wills with yet another amazing creature. Beyond us on the overgrown path stood an enormous jungle panther, similar in proportion as the crocodile that we had encountered before.

For some reason, Jackson Free had engaged it, capturing its attention with an intense gaze. We called to Mr. Free again and again, urging him to back off and rejoin us, but so focused was he on the great animal that he seemed not to hear us at all, not even when Ms. Henderson added the warning that others of the great cat’s pack were approaching! Suddenly, the creature broke free of the contest, and with lightning speed, batted Jackson Free to the ground with its gigantic paw. I noted that its claws had not been extended yet, and truly, it seemed as puzzled by Mr. Free’s behavior as we were.

Slowly, the creature brought its nose down, tentatively sniffing Mr. Free, currently held fast in place. Jackson must have struggled, for suddenly the great cat’s claws extended, further caging Mr. Free’s prone form. Just as suddenly, the cat’s claw flew up, and the creature’s ears flattened as it let out a low growl. Suddenly free of the creature’s imprisoning paw, Jackson leapt to his feet, placing a dagger, the tip now bloody, back into his belt.

This time he heard our calls for retreat, backing slowly toward us. Just as he made it to us, the surrounding brush ruslted, displacing an entire group of no less than 20 similarly large panthers.

Ms. Henderson and Errol seemed set to try to repeat their attempt that previously worked so well with the crocodiles. However, though Ms. Henderson seemed to be able to communicate with the animals, remarking that they were even more intelligent than the crocodiles had been, and while they were also much more curious in their cat-like way, they were also just as adamant in not letting us pass or escape. So, Errol once again trundled forward, getting nose to nose with the first animal. This time, the creature did not back down. At first, it seemed to find Errol curious, but eventually it tired of the lizard’s stare, finally batting at Errol with its massive paw.

Errol chose the better part of valor, retreating to join us once more. However, Ms. Henderson was not willing to give up so quickly yet. Her gaze took on a great intensity, and the great cat’s ears flattened back once more. This continued for a minute, when suddenly Errol’s whole manner seemed to shift. Trace’s eyes widened for a moment, but then that intensity returned. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, whatever struggle was occurring within the mind of the great panther was done.

Out from the foliage stepped a dark skinned man dressed in a loin cloth. His skin was painted an even darker shade than his natural skin was, and he carried a gnarled staff. Then, the strange man spoke. While I watched his mouth, some part of me knew that we was speaking a language that I should not understand, but somehow, what I heard made perfect sense to me.

Rather than trying to repeat the dialogue word for word, as I am still not exactly sure what words were used, I will limit my description. The man introduced himself as the Ghost Talker, one of several Shamen of the Black Ghost tribe. All that we had encountered so far had been mechanisms of defense, a way of keeping the outside world from reaching into their sacred lands. Now, one called the Maker wished to offer us a choice. We could either return now from whence we had come, with no retribution, or we could come to the Maker and be “tested.” If neither of these choices were acceptable, we could attempt to fight, but we would most assuredly die if we did so. The Ghost Talker offered little in the way of explanation as to what the nature of the test might be, only insisting that we make our choice.

None of us could see turning back as an option, and even the bravest of us knew that to fight here and now was to die. So, we chose to be tested. With that, the Ghost Talker turned on his heel and led us down the path, the great cats fading into the foliage around us.

I will write the final portion of my report as soon as possible. I apologize for the interrupted communications, but I will continue as soon as I am able.

Report...

Thu, 19 Jan 2006 20:53:18 GMT

Report to League of Shadows: Agent Zhao Zhen Sheng

Summer, 1924:

Report Sent from unknown location in South America…

I must convey my deepest apologies for the nature of this report. Though it is not my usual habit since being given a higher level of trust within the League, I have been keeping in constant contact via telephone or telegraph on this particular mission. The nature of my unexpected absence will take some time to explain fully. We had to move quickly, taking our leave of New York with little warning, following the small lead we had as to the whereabouts and possible destination of our now fleeing enemies.

To begin, I must point out the singular nature of Ms. Trace Henderson’s investigative abilities. I myself am observant, well trained in investigation, but Ms. Henderson, perhaps through her noteworthy connection to animals, or perhaps because of some other as yet undisclosed ability, easily outshines my current level of skill. Allowed to follow her own instincts, Ms. Henderson discovered some vital clues as to who exactly our enemies are, who they are working for, and a trail that we should be able to follow to lead us to them, or at least to a more thorough knowledge of their past.

You have seen the reports I have sent of each encounter we have had with individuals calling themselves the Three. However, I expressed to you then that I had doubts that they were working alone. Ms. Henderson, in fact, discovered the mastermind behind their workings. He calls himself “The Patchwork Man.” We have reason to believe that he is, in fact, none other than Dr. Frankenstein’s first creation. He is proving himself to be a being of keen intellect, having thus far been able to keep his minions two steps ahead of us.

Ms. Henderson not only discovered the identity of the Patchwork Man, but has discovered more evidence that his whereabouts might be found in a search of South America’s Amazon. We already had some supsicions that this might be our eventual destination, as the manifests of the chemicals we discovered, as well as the leaves of the plants used as packing material both pointed us in that direction. However, Ms. Hendersion found evidence showing that the Three had fled, and that their destination was, in fact, South America.

Combining our findings from the plants, the evidence of flight that Ms. Henderson brought us, and also a tip from the Aeon Society that two of their members were already missing in a specific area of the rain forest, we decided to drop all other activities and immediately head to South America. Mr. Irons graciously provided us the use of his swift flying machine, a dirigible, and with Mr. Laramie at the helm, we made excellent time. We landed in the last stop point possible no later than a week after we began our trip, in a little town that doubles as an aircraft refuel point. Notably, this was also the last place that the two Aeon Society agents were seen.

As a side note, we discovered that the two men were none other than Socrates Gold, and the well known big game hunter, Safari Jack. Mr. Irons’ interest was greatly piqued by the name of the second individual, and with good reason. However, I will explain that in a second report.

When we landed we were met by an American gentleman, one Rick O’Connell. (The significance of this man’s identity escaped me in the immediate, but soon after I remembered the man’s bravery in fighting the undead menace of Im-Hotep in Egypt some time ago.) Mr. O’Connell explained that each of the two men had come and gone, taking the last of the guides that were willing to go into the parts of the jungle they wanted to explore with them. Socrates Gold arrived two months previously. After he went missing, the Aeon Society sent Safari Jack to find him. Safari Jack had been gone for a month now.

Dismayed that we might have to enter the labyrinth of the Amazon without a guide, after offering sufficient monetary compensation, Mr. Irons persuaded Rick O’Connell to join us. This proved to be a very wise decision. Mr. O’Connell proceeded to describe to us the area of the jungle that we would be entering. In order to do so, though, Rick first brought us to see a man that was currently at rest in the small hospital there.

When we entered the room where the man was staying, we were surprised at his condition. The only outward sign of injury was a spiral pattern cut into his forehead. The man’s arms were bared, and one seemed an odd shade lighter than the other, but otherwise, on the surface there was no reason to explain the man’s feverish coma. The man’s condition immediately took on even greater levels of peculiarity when Rick explained that he had entered the jungle with only one arm intact. The arm that had the peculiar tint, had, in fact, not been there at all before the poor man went into the jungle. This man had been a part of a special forces unit also sent to find Socrates Gold, but not a single other one of his unit had left the jungle. There had been contact with local friendly tribes. They had witnessed the unit entering an area of the jungle that was known locally to be forbidden, the sole territory of a mysterious tribe called the Black Ghost tribe. The mark on the man’s forehead was their mark, the same they put on the trees to mark the border of their land.

The poor soul on the bed before us made it out of the forbidden area alone, somehow. A local tribe had taken him in for a time, but they quickly turned him over to the town’s care, fearing retribution for interfering with a victim of the Black Ghost tribe. When the town’s doctors examined the man, they found his body being eaten away with types of cancers that they had never seen before.

Mr. Irons and Dr. Bauer, hoping to find some way to help the man, immediately began running their own tests on him. What they found puzzled even them. The cancers were growing at an extraordinary rate, and seemed to be an attempt to install a new system of immunities in him. His old immune system and the new system were at war, creating the fast grown cancers.

Mr. Irons had brought a portable version of his healing bed with him. While they were not certain what effects the bed would have on the dying soldier, they were at least certain that it would, if nothing else, ease his suffering. They placed the soldier in the device, and according to the readings they took, the cancers seemed to explode into exponential growth. However, as they surmised he might, the man passed quickly on, his suffering finally over.

This harrowing experience made us all pause as we contemplated our next move. It was into this place, this mysterious darkness, that we too were preparing to travel. I will report further with that portion of our trip, and update you on the dilemna we now face.

In Character Note: Agent Sheng has specifically NOT mentioned any connection that we have guessed Mr. Argent might have with the Patchwork Man. If he is indeed a back up unit, originally intended to be a sort of "spare body" for the Patchwork Man that is somehow still linked to him, Agent Sheng is not prepared to disclose that information to the League at this time. Despite the League's current leanings toward altruism, Sheng is worried about their reaction and possible orders for harm to come to Argent.

Our deadly encounter...

Tue, 17 Jan 2006 16:48:38 GMT

Many thanks to Dr. Bauer for his perspective on the experience that we shared. He has actually answered some questions that I was left with. This was, perhaps, the closest I have ever come to death, despite many years of dangerous service. If it had not been for Dr. Bauer, I am certain both Mr. Laramie and myself would now be dead. However, let me get on to the account of our encounter with the last of the Three,

Mr. Irons has very politely expressed concern for Dr. Bauer’s health, as well as my own, marking it a very unusual circumstance that neither Dr. Bauer nor I were physically able to overcome our exhaustion enough to join the rest of our allies in the course of their investigations. I deeply regret my inability to assist them, now that I have learned what transpired for them during the space of this day. However, I believe that our circumstances, once detailed out, will be more than sufficient explanation.

As I dissect the events of last night, I must reflect upon a growing sense of awareness. The stakes are, if not larger, than at least very different than even the League first believed. It seems that, if the accounts of my newfound allies are to be believed, as a group we have now met the three main villains largely responsible for the rash of crimes that we have been attempting to halt. I am surprised by the ingenuity and organization of the acts, and have become convinced that there is a larger force at work than we might have expected. There is some mind guiding the actions of the Three.

Moreover, this does not have the flavor of normal organized crime work. The items targeted, the way the money is being used, the materials being imported, all of these things show me a sense of purpose that does not reflect the mentality of the Tongs, Yakuza, Mafia, or any other criminal group that the League has combated. This is something new, the purpose darker.

But, I digress. On to the events that occurred early this morning.

At approximately 4 a.m., I was stirred from my rest by a polite knocking on the door of the laboratory building guest room in which I was staying. One of the attendants provided for Dr. Bauer by the Aeon Society quietly informed that there was a man, a dockworker by the looks of him, calling himself John Smith, requesting me by name. I quickly dressed and then asked the attendant to lead me to the man. As I had guessed from his description, the man was an informant, someone I had contacted in my initial study of the city and the crimes I had been sent to investigate.

Mr. “Smith” nervously informed me of some odd goings on at the dock. It seemed that they had received an “unusual,” but expected shipment from South America. In the course of putting the shipment into its separate storage compartment for later discreet pickup, one of the crates was broken. While attempting to restore order to the crate’s contents, one of the other dock workers picked up a foil tube, not seeing that it too had been damaged. Its contents were oozing out, and the dockworker's hands began to burn when the substance touched them. He was rushed to the hospital for treatment, but no mention was made of any tube oozing chemical. The hospital was told that they were handling industrial waste, a fairly common practice at the dock.

Mr. Smith gave me the location of the dock, the name of the hospital that the dockworker had been rushed to for chemical burn treatment, and left me with the admonition to make haste. It seemed that shipment was ready to be picked up at any time, and if we were to be able to inspect its contents, we would have to hurry. Mr. Smith took his leave then, hurrying away into the fading night.

Desiring the expertise of one much more suited to the analysis of the chemical than I, I had Dr. Bauer discreetly roused. I was not surprised when I was told that he was already awake and working in the lab. Dr. Bauer, ever practical, suggested that we try the hospital first, in hopes of finding a chemical sample without throwing ourselves into the possible danger of the docks. The plan seemed a sound way to start.

Dr. Bauer proceeded to call upon the services of our excellent driver, Laramie, greeting him with a pot of freshly made and powerful coffee. Laramie, proclaiming his gratefulness for the excellent brew, drove us to the hospital first. While Laramie waited in the vehicle, Dr. Bauer and I headed inside in search of the burn victim and the elusive chemical.

The hospital staff did not immediately recognize Dr. Bauer, but once they heard his name, did not deeply question his desire to test the chemical. (One note, I find that I much prefer the lack of deception. In this case, Dr. Bauer’s reputation was enough to forestall questions from the hospital staff, removing the need for any elaborate stories to cover our presence.) To our dismay, the on call doctor informed us that any samples they might have had had simply been washed down the drain. They were not expecting to have to keep any, as they had been informed that it was merely common industrial waste.

Completely undaunted, Dr. Bauer simply asked to be taken to the sink used to wash away the chemical. The resident doctor was slightly taken aback, but acquiesced to the doctor’s request and led us to the sink. Dr. Bauer proceeded to take apart the sink’s plumbing himself, emptying out the trap that had collected the day’s grime.

Though I was fully aware of the good doctor’s brilliance, I was nevertheless greatly impressed by the alacrity and efficiency with which he proceeded to separate the various compounds contained within the grime. Dr. Bauer, after what had to have been no more than a minute, extracted the final remnants of the chemical in question. When finally free of any diluting agents, however, the chemical had a violent reaction. With a flash of light and a tiny explosion, the container into which Dr. Bauer had extracted the chemical lost it lower half!

No one was injured though, and Dr. Bauer now had some clue as to the nature of the chemical. However, both he and I recognized the need to obtain a full sample of the chemical at its source, the warehouse. As the Dr. Bauer quickly reassembled the sink, I thanked the hospital staff for their help. We then quickly returned to the waiting vehicle, directing Laramie to make haste in taking us to the docks.

Laramie seemed to know exactly where to go from the address we were given by Mr. Smith. We arrived at the docks, but as we were still unsure of which specific building the shipment had been placed in, we decided to seek assistance by engaging the workers there in conversation. We decided to approach the dock foreman, who seemed most helpful in directing us toward our goal. Noticeably, I did pay him a substantial sum of money, but that is neither here nor there.

The building that the foreman led us to was one of the smaller warehouses in the dock area, but it was also one of the most secure. Corrugated steel walls, no windows, no skylights, and only two doors made it ideal for keeping certain “unusual” shipments out of sight. The foreman showed us to the door of the building, gave us fifteen minutes to inspect the warehouse and its contents, and then shut the door behind us.

Dr. Bauer and I quickly found the crate that had been broken. The crate had been repaired, but it the damage was still quite obvious. After prying open the top, we made an unexpected discovery. According to the manifest that was included inside, there were actually three layers within the crate, each tier holding a different slat of chemicals. The doctor also noted that the packing material itself was highly unusual, consisting of leaves of a type of tree that he had not encountered before in all his studies of botany. The doctor took a sample of the leaves first, and then we proceeded.

In order to get an element from each layer of the crate within the time we had left, we had to further disassemble the crate, taking care to leave it in good enough condition to be reassembled without a trace of more damage. The first layer contained boxes filled with the previously described foil tubes, in form much like a tube of toothpaste, though the contents were certainly not so innocuous.

The second layer contained boxes of an as yet unidentified substance. This chemical was packed in individual wooden tubes, stoppered shut with a cork. The third layer contained smaller metal tubes of yet another chemical. Dr. Bauer procured a container of each of the three substances, and we proceeded to put the crate back together.

Just as we were tamping the very last of the nails in place, however, we heard what had to have been a human body slam against the outside of the warehouse. The door flew open and ten of our now familiar assailants with similar features filed in. Amongst them they held the dock foreman that had assisted us, and a very badly beaten Mr. Smith. Right as the last of them entered, Dr. Bauer let out a piercing whistle, our designated summons for Laramie. Seemingly unaffected by the sudden action, our plain faced foes shut the door behind them and locked it.

Then, from above us came an oddly accented and annoyingly smug voice. “Ah! The illustrious Mr. Zheng, correct?”

I looked up, allowing only calm to cross the surface of my features. There, as casually as if he was standing on solid ground, a man hung from the rafters by the crook of his arm. He was dressed in loose slacks, a fine red shirt, and bowler hat perched atop his head.

“Actually, it’s Sheng, agent Sheng,” came my terse reply.

The man flashed a quick, slight smile, and proceeded vault from rafter to rafter, flipping and twirling down to land in front of his men.

“Ah. I do apologize,” he said. “I will have to correct them on their pronunciation.” Then, as if noticing him for the first time, “And I do believe you are Dr. Lukas Bauer, are you not?” his cocky gaze resting on the good doctor.

“Eep!” The doctor squeaked.

It flashed through my mind then that this strange character might well be the third member of the Three, the one who calls himself “the Undying.” However, I kept my thoughts to myself, listening as the man pompously rambled on, watching for an opportunity to improve our situation.

“Now, sirs,” he said, “I have no way of knowing how long you’ve been in here, however, as I personally witnessed the two of you tapping the last of the nails on that crate back in place, I know you’ve had time to do some snooping around.” He stopped for a moment, cocking his head toward the door.

He continued. “Actually, I see no harm in letting the two of you leave this place alive. All I ask is that you return whatever it is you’ve stolen.”

“Just us?” I asked. “What of those two men there?” indicating Mr. Smith and the dock foreman.

The man’s cocky smile returned. He strolled casually over to stand in front of the dock foreman. Indicating the foreman with a nod of his head, the man said “This one here has merely succumbed to a little bit of greed, which is forgivable, as it is in his nature. He did not understand the full nature of what he was doing and with whom he was dealing when he allowed you in here.”

Still speaking, the man moved back to where he had been standing previously, somewhat apart from his homogenously featured minions. “The foreman will be demoted, made to work as an ordinary dockhand again. His crime was a small one.” Gazing at the battered form of Mr. Smith, the man momentarily traded his arrogant smile for a slight frown. “This one, however, must be dealt with. He knew exactly what he was doing and came to you of his own volition. My employers do not countenance betrayal, Mr. Sheng. There is a special level of hell for Judases, correct, Dr. Bauer? The 9th, I believe?”

While the man had been speaking, Dr. Bauer had been discreetly working. He had pulled a flask of water from his kit and had poured it out in a line between the two of us and our adversaries. I then placed myself squarely in between Dr. Bauer and harm, holding the gaze of the man in the red shirt.

“Hm. The eighth level is the one for you, yes?” came Dr. Bauer’s verbal response from behind me.

I could not help but allow a slight smile to cross my face. The eighth level of hell was reserved for thieves and deceivers, I was certain. However, the gentleman's response aroused my suspicions as to his identity even further.

"Actually, you would be more accurate to place me in the Woods of the 7th Circle," he said.

His answer caused me to feel some measure of alarm. The Woods in the 7th circle were reserved for suicides, according to Dante. More confirmation, indeed. However, further thought on the matter was forestalled amidst the sudden cacophany of gunfire. Laramie, initially finding the door locked from the inside had retrieved his tommy-gun, and was now riddling the door with bullets around the lock, finally blasting the lock off and slamming the door open.

A look of annoyance crossed the face of the gentleman in the red shirt. Then, with incredible quickness and skill, and without ever taking his eyes from mine, he tossed a tiny blade at Laramie, but in a manner that caused it to ricochet before arriving. The odd spin of the blade caused it to neatly slice the meat of Laramie’s fingers, causing him to drop the gun. The blade then ricocheted again, leaving Laramie with a small, though bothersome, cut on his face.

As Laramie cursed angrily in Gaelic, the man narrowed his eyes and said, “I would advise no more trouble from you Mr. Laramie,” once again proving his personal knowledge of us. “The next one will be across the jugular.”

However, Dr. Bauer immediately provided the distraction I had been waiting for. While I had been holding the gentleman’s gaze, Dr. Bauer had retrieved two liquid filled glass globes from his kit. Dr. Bauer flung the first on the floor, and when its contents met the line of water that he had poured previously, a solid wall running the entire line sprang up, hiding the doctor from sight! From behind the wall, I head Dr. Bauer take a deep breath and hold it, so I did the same. Then, the second globe of liquid came flying over the wall, shattering in close proximity to all of our adversaries.

When the liquid contacted the air, an acrid smelling mist sprang up. I had stopped breathing in time to miss the intake of the gas, but none of our enemies were so fortunate. All of them, including the gentleman in the bowler hat, inhaled a full dose of the mist. Though the gentleman did not seem affected, his henchman did, staggering about for the moment, and Mr. Smith and the dock foreman immediately hit the floor, unconscious.

I used the distraction to toss my own smoke bomb, hoping to hide my initial movements. I could now see the course of the battle running through my mind, and using all my skill, tumbled through the air to aid the wounded Mr. Smith first. The two minions that were guarding his now unconscious form suddenly felt compelled to go flying through air, as I had landed between them and, using the power of Bagua’s circle, casually tossed them as thrown weapons at their master, the man in the red shirt. I shouted at Laramie, hoping he would understand what I was planning to do next, for Mr. Smith’s limp form was already being tossed out the door and hopefully to safety in Mr. Laramie’s arms.

With that same startling speed, the gentleman, whom I now had no doubt was in fact the Undying, neatly sidestepped both of his flying henchmen. Then, with masterful flair, the Undying dropped an object from his sleeve into his right hand, popped off his bowler hat, knocked another object loose from its brim, flipped the hat back on his head, caught the second object in his left hand and then sent both objects ricocheting toward me.

I leapt backwards, flipping easily out of the way of one of the objects, but not the other. I felt a small impact in my right shoulder, just under the collarbone, and heard a strange hiss. I looked down to see that one of the intricately wrought syringes that had poisoned Dr. Bauer when we foiled the bank heist was now sticking out of my shoulder. I could immediately feel the poison start to course through me, a numbness attacking my extremities, but with the strength of my will, I fought off any immediate negative effects.

As I was coming to a stop, the Undying threw yet one more object off toward the other end of the warehouse, simultaneously shouting, “Did you think I had forgotten about you, Doctor?”

I heard, rather than saw, the doctor fling himself to the ground and skid as if he had been in mid-flight toward the back entrance. In the distance, I heard metal cutting metal, but the doctor seemed fine, hurling expletives in German as weapons at the Undying, much as I had previously tossed his own men.

Then, Laramie, who had apparently caught Mr. Smith without harm to himself, made his presence felt again, decking two of our opponents and aiming at a third. All of the ten henchmen seemed to be fighting harder and harder against the doctor’s tossed potion, losing more and more concentration, but they were still on their feet, and now, finally they brought themselves to act.

The three that Laramie had engaged all aimed guns and fired at him. The effects of the doctor’s potion were obvious, as all three men missed Laramie, though they were firing at point blank range. The other five that were still standing aimed at me. Once again, the potion most efficiently hampered their concentration, for not only did they not hit me, but one of them tripped over his own feet and shot and killed another of his number by accident!

Finally, the Undying decided to turn his attention back to me.

“You are amazing, Mr. Sheng!” he exclaimed. “However, I find that a straight line is always better than a circle.”

“For you, then,” I thought to myself. I could feel the poison, stronger now, but I forced the numbness back again with my will. From the open fist to the closed, from the circle of Bagua to the line of Tsing Yi, my aspect changed. In a burst of speed, I yanked the now empty syringe out of my shoulder, sending it flying at one of the Undying’s still standing henchmen. The well-balanced and weighted point hit the reanimated thing dead in the eye, killing him instantly. I paid him no mind, however, for my sole aim was to engage and occupy the Undying.

“Run, Dr. Bauer!” I shouted as my leap carried me easily across the distance remaining between the Undying and me.

Four blows I leveled at him with all of my skill, but I only struck him once, so fast and skilled was he. The one strike I was able to land, however, seemed to cause him some consternation. I do not believe he actually expected me to be able to hit him at all.

Laramie then leveled the playing field. In a brilliantly executed feint, Laramie made as if to strike the three that he was engaging again, but rolled away at the last moment, catching them completely off guard as he came up with tommy-gun again in his hands, spraying them with bullets. Three more down, and I had succeeded in keeping the Undying’s attention, keeping him from acting to aid his henchmen or stop Dr. Bauer from fleeing. I could hear Dr. Bauer, struggling mightily with the back door, metal grating on metal, as if something was barring his way out.

The Undying’s minions once again attempted to act, but this time, both Laramie and I paid the price. The five that were still left alive took aim and fired. Most of them missed again, but one bullet found its mark in Laramie’s shoulder, shattering his collarbone, and one bullet caught me in the leg. I could still hear Dr. Bauer struggling with the back door, the poison was writhing within me, and seeing the set of determination on the Undying’s face, I simply hoped I could buy the doctor’s escape with my own life.

As I looked upon the Undying, my center of calm beckoned me. Breathing a silent prayer to God, and knowing that it was heard, I prepared to throw myself into the fray again. In that brief moment of stillness, the last thing that I expected happened. Somehow, Laramie mustered enough strength to bring his weapon around again. With a burst of gunfire, one more of the henchmen went down, and then Laramie began filling the air with bullets, aiming them all at the Undying. Somehow, whether it was through some incredible kind of luck, or whether it was because the bullets truly seemed to slide away from him, the Undying received not a single scratch, but leapt and dodged away.

Out of his hat the fiend popped another glittering object and flung it at Laramie. Laramie had nothing left, no strength to try to dodge. Laramie’s jugular felt the bite of a tiny dart, and instantly his muscles froze. Laramie fell onto his back, sinews tensing, petrifying him into a statue of flesh. (Noticeably, Laramie seemed more annoyed than afraid, and I truly believe that I heard those same Gaelic curses as before hiss out from between his frozen lips.) Simultaneously, the Undying flung out his arms, caught three shuriken in each hand, seemingly from thin air, and sent them flying at me. The first three I easily dodged, but the next embedded themselves in my right forearm.

To make matters worse, besides the pain from the shuriken themselves, I could feel that they had been coated with something. Rather than the dull numbness that I had been fighting already, now a searing, burning pain coursed through my right arm, quickly running through my shoulder. Still, I squared my shoulders, and again, the force of my will battered the pain aside.

Rather than stay and fight, however, the Undying finished his acrobatics, landing by the door. “We’ll finish this another time, Mr. Sheng!” and off he fled into the still dark morning.

I looked upon the remaining four henchmen. Fanatics though they were, and undead things they might have been, I still pitied them for a moment. Though my strength was waning, the poor creatures did not stand a chance.

The first one was sent flying, my fist caving in his sternum and sending him careening into not one, but two of the other henchmen. Death was instantaneous for the first, and the other two could not seem to extricate themselves from underneath the dead weight of their comrade. One kick left the last upright man unconscious, and the two sprawled underneath their dead fellow quickly followed suit.

At last, I ceased my struggle against the poisons now sending pain raging through my body. Ten men were dead or unconscious, but I did not know if our efforts had cost me my own life and that of Laramie. My one hope was that the good Dr. Bauer had finally succeeded in opening the back door and was making his way to safety.

I assumed the lotus position, embraced my center, attempting to slow the spread of the poison, but I knew I had little time left. However, a mere moment later, Dr. Bauer proved his inestimable worth yet again. He reappeared miraculously beside me, and quickly went to work, removing the shuriken, spiriting them away into a container. Then, he used his amazing creation, Aqua Vitae, pouring drops directly into the wounds, and then having me drink the rest of the dose. Immediately, I could feel the poison’s fire die, and the cold numbness of that first syringe’s contents melt into the pleasant healing bliss of the doctor’s powerful concoction.

Dr. Bauer warned me that he now saw smoke rising from many of the crates in the warehouse. The damage from the fight had caused the fragile containers within to break, allowing the chemicals to mix. There was no stopping the numerous reactions now. A full fledged fire was imminent.

Rather than allow Dr. Bauer to be distracted by me anymore, I forced my body to fight the fog of Aqua Vitae and stumbled to the car on my own, though I was unable to assist the doctor any further. With dogged determination, the doctor dragged the unconscious foreman, the battered Mr. Smith, and the wounded and petrified Laramie to safety as the warehouse went up in a conflagration around him.

The rest of the morning after that was fuzzy except for one odd detail. I remember the name Shamus McManus. He tried to kill the unconscious foreman, claiming that he, Shamus, was a protector of this area and that the foreman was complicit in some of the foulest transactions that took place there. We persuaded him not to pull the trigger, somehow, and I believe we gained a new ally in him as well.

Mr. Laramie’s paralysis quickly wore off, for I am positive he drove us back to the laboratory. Dr. Bauer and Mr. Hobbes graciously worked to restore us, using Mr. Irons’ miraculous devices to close our wounds and knit our broken bones in a matter of… hours? Minutes? The time was such a blur. Alas, though we were whole, our experience left Dr. Bauer and me completely and utterly exhausted.

While we succeeded in procuring containers of the chemicals from the warehouse, I am haunted by two things. First, I very nearly failed in the duty that I have taken upon myself, which is to protect Dr. Bauer. Second, for some reason, I can not escape the sound of screaming. As I said, the last minutes at the warehouse and the ride home were mostly a blur, but I distinctly remember hearing the sound of something screaming in pain.

Now that I have finished it, I do hope that this account explains my state of mind. I would not say I am apprehensive, but rather I feel a sense of approaching destiny. Something new is at work, a dark will guiding our foes. I wish to see it exposed. I wish to see it stopped.

Original Background story

Tue, 17 Jan 2006 16:42:45 GMT

Part 1: Parents -

Frederick Wilks came from a hard working Protestant family. His father bravely led a small organization in reaching out to the poor Chinese immigrants in Chicago. Frederick had grown up around both the mission organization and the Chinese culture they ministered to, hence his heart for China was kindled at a young age. He vowed to himself that one day he would set foot on mainland China and try to reach the people there with his Christian message of hope and mercy.

Having grown up on Chicago’s rapidly growing streets among the small but close knit Chinese population, Frederick had the unique experience of exposure to Chinese language at an early age, and, as only children can, became as fluent in it as he was in his own American English. He was a witness to Chicago’s population explosion, and the creation of Chicago’s uniquely flavored Chinatown. As he grew, Chicago grew, and Frederick’s love for all things Chinese grew to match.

After a stint in the military, and subsequently graduating from university, Frederick lobbied hard for a position in the retinue of the official American Ambassador to China, seeing it as a perfect way to get a legal “foot in the door,” in his quest to bring Christianity to China. Using his fluency in Chinese (a rarity among Americans of that day) he won a spot as a translator on the ambassador’s team.

Once in China, though, Frederick’s position quickly became tenuous. The American Ambassador’s stay was constantly wracked with scandal, and soon, general bad behavior by the entire staff got the whole team a one-way ticket back to the U.S., with one exception. The Chinese Consulate was extremely impressed with Frederick’s grasp of Chinese language and culture, and the fact that Frederick alone had never once besmirched his character by violating any Chinese customs. So, Frederick was granted special leave by both the American and Chinese governments and allowed to stay on as a cultural attaché.

It was in this capacity that Frederick’s dream began to be realized. In his new role, Frederick was allowed to participate in open, though time-limited, cultural exchanges, learning more of Chinese custom and history, while simultaneously relating his own American heritage. This provided Frederick with the perfect opportunity to share his faith with the entire Chinese Consulate. The Chinese government, while normally very closed to Christianity, found Frederick’s immaculate observance of the their own customs enough of an endearment to allow this limited exchange.

It was while doing this work that Frederick met his future bride, Ma Hsue (“Sue”) Li. After keeping up a steady dialogue with Frederick for over a year, Frederick’s main Consulate contact, an elderly gentleman by the name of San Tso Li, invited Frederick into his home for dinner. Frederick eagerly accepted, but was even more pleased when he arrived, for there he met the beautiful Sue Li, Tso’s youngest daughter.

As dinner began and the evening passed, Frederick and Tso spoke of many things, politics and religion included, but their conversation eventually meandered into talk of Tso’s current situation. Tso’s wife had passed away, and all of his children had married and moved on, save Sue. Sue alone had remained, content to forego marriage, choosing instead to take care of her aging father. Tso spoke of his daughter fondly, proudly relating to Frederick stories of her work with the poor. Tso had lavished much upon his youngest daughter, educating her as a man would be educated, including training in the ways of martial arts. Tso caught Frederick’s attention with this, and as the night raced away, Tso related to Frederick that he himself was a teacher, a master of Gung-Fu, of the opposing arts of Bagua Zhang and Xing Yi Quan, specifically.

The night ended with Frederick full to the brim with questions and eager anticipation for the next visit with San Tso Li and his beautiful daughter. However, that next visit was to happen under the pall of impending danger. For an entire month, Frederick worked without hearing anything at all from San Tso Li, working instead with several of Li’s aides. This puzzled Frederick until one most peculiar evening. Back in his quarters after a full workday, Frederick received an unexpected visit from Sue. Immediately sensing that something was not right, at Sue’s request, Frederick accompanied her to a secret meeting with San Tso. The path they followed was twisted, muddled, and Frederick’s apprehension grew. When they reached the location, San Tso approached and beckoned Frederick inside a small herb shop.

San Tso then laid out the reasons for his recent absence from the Consulate. The government, increasingly troubled by rumors of rebellion, was viewing all interactions with both internal factions and external powers with increasing suspicion. Without warning, they had removed San Tso from his duties and placed him under house arrest. When he asked for a reason, they said that his interaction with Frederick had become too close, and that Frederick’s influence had become dangerous. San Tso had sent Sue in his place to bring Frederick to this meeting and warn him. The Government was falling quickly into what seemed to be a state of paranoid madness. They were planning to kidnap Frederick and question him as a spy! San Tso related to Frederick the unfortunate reality that there was now no way of getting out of the country directly. He would have to disguise himself and flee, with hopes of reaching China’s border with Russia.

Sue Li indicated packed bundles, including supplies for two travelers. Frederick assumed that San Tso would accompany him, but San Tso shook his head. Sue would be his guide. Her work with the poor had provided Sue with many contacts and allies that would actively assist in their escape.

Their flight lasted for two grueling years. So many times did they have to double back, lay low, hide out, that Frederick began to believe that they might never actually escape China. This prospect, however, did not alarm him as much as he thought it should. As they traveled together, Sue and Frederick found a powerful bond growing between them. Sue taught Frederick all she knew of the martial arts, and the two of them spent countless hours speaking of their beliefs and sharing their thoughts. Before long, they realized that they were in love.

Just as important, as they were often hiding amongst the poor, Frederick was able to spread his message of hope to the people he believed most needed it. Frederick often found himself wishing that their flight to freedom would never actually end, so many lives was he able to touch with his words and compassion. Still, end their journey eventually did.

Miraculously, Frederick and Sue escaped China unharmed after their two-year ordeal, eventually making it back to Chicago. Sue was granted leave as a political refugee once Frederick’s report of his disappearance and their subsequent flight from persecution was received and confirmed. Frederick was offered numerous government positions, but chose instead to work with his father, reconnecting with Chicago’s Chinatown.

In 1889, Frederick and Sue were married in a Christian ceremony performed by Frederick’s own father, and in 1890, Paul San Tso Wilks was born.

Part 2: Education -

Paul Wilks’ heritage was far from ordinary. As son to a white man and a Chinese woman, Paul would normally have been outcast from both societies, especially in the early 1900’s. However, Paul’s father, Frederick, had spent his entire life as a missionary and minister of hope to the poor in Chicago’s Chinatown, so Paul was considered one of their own. In truth, in appearance Paul was difficult to distinguish from other Chinese children, having inherited more of his mother’s features, save for the color of his eyes. (A brilliant green, rare among Chinese, though not completely unheard of…)

So, Paul, as his father had, grew up on the streets of Chinatown, and as his father was, was steeped in two entirely different cultures. On the one hand, Paul’s father and grandfather, hard-working and honest ministers, did their best to integrate Paul into Chicago’s “normal” society, including church and standard schooling. On the other hand, Paul’s mother kept him tied into the heartbeat of Chinese culture. This dichotomy was eventually made even more apparent when Paul’s mother began training him in the martial arts.

As his training progressed, Paul showed remarkable aptitude. Even at a young age, Paul’s skill became almost legendary among the Chinese of Chicago. As he grew older, Paul reached unmatched prowess in his dual studies of Xing Yi and Bagua.

While training Paul, Sue also began teaching Paul about her ancestry. Seeing that Paul was fascinated, Sue started including lessons about her father’s teachings of the theory of Tau-Tau. Tau-Tau was simultaneously a philosophy and a group of people. The philosophy was that the entire physical universe rested upon a strong, but flexible membrane or weave. It stated that every movement, every conscious choice caused the membrane to vibrate in a certain rhythm, changing the future and its possibilities. The people of the Tau-Tau were said to be able to actively tune themselves to that rhythm and intentionally manipulate the membrane, causing visible effects. San Tso, Sue’s father, had believed Sue to be an inheritor of the ability of the Tau-Tau. She had never shown any signs of the ability though, so San Tso had allowed the matter drop eventually. However, Sue never forgot the story, and related to Paul that she believed he might be an inheritor of this gift.

This theory fascinated young Paul, but he found it difficult to reconcile the mystical nature of the belief with his strong Christian faith. As he grew older, his faith became stronger, but Paul always faced the nagging suspicion that there might be some truth to the myth of Tau-Tau. This tension began to take a more central place in his life, driving him to study. Then, in university, Paul began to follow the work of one Dr. Sir Calvin Hammersmith. Hammersmith’s work in the relatively new science of physics gave Paul new hope of reconciliation, of balance between his two halves. Could the theory of the Tau-Tau merely be primitive attempts to explain a scientific possibility? Paul delved into theoretical physics, specifically Dr. Hammersmith’s ideas of an underlying, but physically quantifiable Universal energy source. He then expanded his quest for knowledge into the realms of human physiology and psychology, grasping for a still elusive explanation. Could God have intended man to be able to literally rule the earth by giving them the ability to tap into a quantifiable energy using some now dormant part of the brain?

Part 3: Induction -

Sadly, just as Paul’s hope for calming his inner turmoil began to grow, tragedy struck. Frederick and Sue, Paul’s father and mother, disappeared. No one could explain where they had gone or what had happened to them. Paul went so far as to seek out his father’s old military and government contacts for aid in finding them, but even they were baffled. The disappearances stunk of abduction, but no one could find any answers.

Finally, Paul began taking matters into his own hands. Paul turned his intense focus, formerly directed at his martial arts training and academic search for the truth of Tau-Tau, to finding his parents. His search for clues led him to dead end after dead end, but Paul’s patience seemed endless. With dogged determination, Paul continued his search for his parents and their abductors.

After a month of following leads, the break in the case came in the form of a most unusual person. Paul met his grandfather, San Tso Li, for the first time. San Tso approached from the shadows at first, giving Paul vague clues and hints. When San Tso finally revealed his identity, Paul’s joy at meeting his mother’s beloved father was overshadowed by the dark nature of his arrival. When Sue and Frederick had fled China those many years ago, San Tso decided to accept an old invitation. In accepting employment by the mysterious but benevolent League of Shadows, San Tso was able to escape China and turn his formidable skills and diplomatic training to good use as a secret agent.

The truth that San Tso revealed was that Paul’s parents had been taken as a way of getting to him. His cover had been blown, and the worst of the Chinese triads had taken Sue and Frederick to use them as bait in a bid to capture San Tso. Their desire was to force him to reveal the secrets of the League of Shadows.

San Tso had finally approached Paul because he was actually getting close on his own. He had showed remarkable resourcefulness in tracking down his parents’ kidnappers, too remarkable, in truth. Paul had now gotten the attention of the triads. However, the League of Shadows had been watching as well, and had authorized San Tso to set forth a very risky plan.

Because San Tso was too vital to the League to risk in a rescue attempt, Paul would have to agree to be used as an impromptu agent. In order to save his parents, Paul was to allow himself to be captured by the triads as well. However, once taken, Paul would leave special markers and clues along the way, allowing San Tso and a special League team to track him to the location. Once there, the League team would take down the triad men and release Paul and his parents. Since Paul as yet had no knowledge of the League and its workings, if things went wrong, the League would not be in any worse position than they were before. (And at the very least, they had tried to perform the rescue.)

Seeing it as his best chance to save his parents, Paul agreed to do as San Tso and the League of Shadows had planned. San Tso pointed out the men that the triad had placed to watch Paul, and then Paul acted. Confronting the men directly, Paul allowed them to chase him, and then, turning into an alley that he knew had no outlet, allowed himself to be captured.

Paul’s kidnappers led San Tso on a merry chase, but Paul paid attention, taking every opportunity to lay the markers and leave the clues that would allow the San Tso and his League agents to track him. Finally, the triad goons took Paul across the sea. On July 20th, 1922, the triad agents, Paul San Tso Wilks, and their pursuer, San Tso Li, arrived in London.

- Excerpt from Paul’s de-briefing by the League of Shadows.

Once we arrived in London, the triad men took me to a quaint office building on the west side of London, where they held me for the span of perhaps a day. They led me down into what must have been a hidden underground warehouse. Then, they bound my arms and legs, and left me lying in total darkness. I had become used to their petty games by now, so this did not have the intended effect of engendering fear in me. I waited, biding my time. It was now no longer my intention to merely passively wait for grandfather, agent Li, to come and rescue me. Instead, should I finally be brought into my parents’ presence, and then, should I see an opportunity, I decided I would find my own way of escape with them.

Finally, the men returned. They removed my bonds and brought me out into the well-lit warehouse. There, after they had been missing for nearly three months, I saw my parents. The gangsters had bound them securely to their chairs and placed them in a circle of brighter light in the middle of the room. The guards kept well back from, despite their bound state. I could not help smiling then. Apparently, the goons had learned to respect my parents’ physical prowess.

My parents saw me then, and joy flitted across their faces for a brief moment, quickly replaced by worry. Their mouths were gagged, but I could see from their expressions what they were feeling. Forcing myself not to allow their worry to worm its way into me, I looked at them and put all the confidence I could into my eyes. I saw my mother’s expression change from one of worry to one of thoughtfulness, and I believe something connected for her then. She nodded at me, and from what I could see around the gag, she smiled.

Instead of stopping and placing me with them, my triad guards led me past them and on into the warehouse office. A very fat Chinese man in a well-tailored suit sat behind the desk.

“Well, it seems we have the entire family now,” he said in Mandarin. “How fortunate for us. San Tso will be unable to resist our summons now.”

I returned his words with silence and a carefully blank expression. This seemed to aggravate him a little.

“You have your parents’ attitude,” he sneered. “You will not be so smug for so long, I think. We have ways of teaching the proper respect.”

I grinned. The fat man got very red in the face for a moment, and then pulled himself together.

“Let us begin again, shall we? I have been rude. My men call me Mr. Po. I know you already, and now you know me. Now that we have been introduced, let me show you how we run our business.”

Suddenly, moving very fast for such a large man, Mr. Po sent me careening out of my chair with a vicious backhand. Immediately after, I felt a huge weight on my prone back, and a meaty hand grabbed my hair, bending me backward until I thought I would snap in two. After holding me in that position for what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Po released me, my head bouncing off the floor.

“You must keep in mind, young Paul, that you are alive ONLY BY MY LEAVE! More importantly, if you so much as look at me with disrespect again, I will not even have to touch you. All I have to do is make your parents suff…”

Mr. Po’s voice trailed off as a panicked shout came from outside the office. His huge weight lifted off my back, and then he shouted some harsh expletives.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?! WHERE IS THE REST OF YOUR GUARD TEAM?!”

Another voice, the source of the panicked shout, answered. “Sir, one moment there were three of us, and then, the next, Chan and Wong were gone! Something hit me on the back of the head, and when I awoke, the prisoners were gone!”

The poor guard was sent flying then, Po now in a murderous rage. However, hearing the guard’s words, and knowing that the League had arrived, I had used his momentary distraction to climb to my feet.

“Mr. Po,” I said as I quietly assumed the advancing stance of Xing Yi. “Let me introduce myself. I am Paul San Tso Wilks. My grandfather sends his regards.” Mr. Po never even saw the blows that incapacitated him, as I quickly dispatched the surprised man.

The rest of the warehouse erupted in chaos, as now the League engaged triad foot soldiers openly. I raced out of the warehouse, only to be confronted by five guards. As I assumed the defensive stance of Bagua, I heard an explosion from somewhere outside the warehouse, maybe on the same level as the above ground office, but obviously nearby. A moment later, the air seemed to ripple, and as the wave reached me, it was as if I had another sense, like another eye had snapped open. I could hear a rhythm, a beat, pounding.

The five men before me now seemed to be caught in slow motion, and I saw then the best way to take them. It was as if the fight played itself out for me in a hundred different ways, the possibilities showing themselves to me, and I knew. The Tanjian eye, the gift of Tau-Tau, had awakened in me.

With the circle and line, Bagua and Xing Yi, I mowed through the five men like so much chaff. I raced to the exit of the warehouse then, and no more men attacked me, so consumed were they by the attack of the League of Shadows. As I gained street level and the office building, I heard the voice of my parents outside. I knew then that we were safe…

- End excerpt

It was not until a day later that Paul learned of the Hammersmith experiment tragedy. The explosion that he had heard came from Dr. Hammersmith’s house, frighteningly close to the small office building and its secret underground warehouse that served as a front for triad operations in London. Paul learned about the release of telluric energy, and immediately connected the description in the paper of the “safe bubble” with the wave of energy that had engulfed him. His tension had been solved. The Tau-Tau legend had been, after all, a primitive attempt to explain an actual source of energy, and he, when he had come in contact with that primal energy, had had natural senses opened up within him. Paul’s turmoil with his Christian faith had been solved.

Also, after witnessing Paul’s martial arts skill, combined with the knack for investigation he had shown in tracking down his parents’ kidnappers, the League of Shadows offered him a position. Paul realized a new calling, then. As he said to his handler, “My father was a fisher of men. Now, I will be as well. Only, it will be a different kind of man I will search for.”

Such was the beginning of agent Paul San Tso Wilks, code name Zhao Zhen Sheng.