The cover shows a slightly gray-haired Jiang Sheng standing alone on a strangely empty city street, looking up at the sky and screaming. ____________________________________________________________________________ .|, COHERENT An ASHistory Series --+------------------------------------------------------------------------- '|` SUPER STORIES #6 - Immortal Evil The End Times Part I copyright 2007 by Dave Van Domelen ____________________________________________________________________________ [July 6, 1998 - San Francisco, CA] "Stand away from her," Jiang said flatly. There was no hint of threat or anger in his voice, simply the tone of a reasonable request that one expected the listener to comply with. He was a reasonable man, after all. Few who wear the robes of the Shaolin are unreasonable. The three figures arrayed around the cowering women were, however, neither reasonable nor truly men anymore. Their features were distorted, taking on aspects of a great cat in ways that suggested magic and not simple tattooing or cosmetic surgery. Nor did their unsheathed claws seem to be affectation or artifice. "Leave, uncle monk," the largest of the trio snarled, the split in his upper lip giving him a slight speech impediment. "This street belongs to the Tiger Tong." Jiang raised an eyebrow slowly at that claim. "Once it may have," he replied, showing no fear or even concern that he was facing men who had clearly traded their souls to one spirit or another in exchange for power. It was, sadly, all too common in these debased days. "But the Tiger Tong was broken nearly a quarter of a century ago. I should know, I was there." The smallest of the trio snarled derisively. "Do not brag about your age, monk," he spat. "And don't think that your kung fu can do anything against us. We're a lot tougher than any posers who might have called themselves the Tiger Tong back in the chop socky days." The other two chuckled along with him, and all three started to shift. What had before been merely evocative of a tiger now became a true trait. Fur sprouted from their orange and black tinged skin, their ears lengthened, their faces stretched into fanged muzzles. Within moments, they were transformed into a sort of halfway point between man and man-eater. The woman they'd been menacing screamed and then fainted. "You should break your bargain with whatever spirit empowered you, my sons," Jiang warned. "Such pacts rarely turn out well for mortals. Tiger spirits in particular are dangerous to treat with, there is too much of the cat's playful cruelty to them." "You're the mortal that this won't turn out well for!" the smallest of the weretigers retorted, but he was the last of the three to lunge at him. Jiang mentally marked him as the most dangerous, for he seemed to have at least half a brain. Making a leap that his graying hair suggested was impossible, Jiang grabbed onto a balcony and swung over the charging tiger-men. Twisting about, he turned his momentum into a powerful kick to the back of "shorty's" head. A human would have been instantly killed, but Jiang didn't expect it to do more than stagger his opponent for a moment. The other two turned to try to swipe at him, and barely avoided attacking each other. Good, they were still sane enough to care about that, but not well-trained enough to avoid it easily. Jiang took a calculated risk and grabbed the tail of the largest one, pulling hard. His target yowled in pain, flailing about behind him on instinct and rage. Jiang dropped and swept the weretiger's feet out from under him, turning the spinning attack against his foe and leading him to sink the claws of one hand into the just-recovering small one. Taking advantage of the momentary shock this bit of "friendly fire" caused, Jiang slammed a fist into the throat of the third tiger, feeling the larynx crack under his assault. Again, a move that would likely kill or at least cripple a normal man, but would only buy him time against a spirit- ridden one such as this. There was a moment of near-silence, broken only by a faint retching sound as the one with the crushed throat tried to speak and failed. WHOOP WHOOP! A police siren broke the moment, and an armored cruiser came into view at the alley mouth. All eyes shifted to the woman, who had opened her eyes and was clutching a small keychain device in one hand. "Panic button!" one of the tigers snarled. Just one of the little things to come out of telecommunications advances in a world full of supernatural threats, the panic button would alert the police much like a call to 911, complete with GPS tracking of your location, and was much less expensive than a mobile phone. Lately, stores couldn't keep them on the shelves. "We'll be back for you, old monk!" the small one added, clutching his quickly healing wound. The three leapt for the rooftops and vanished. Jiang breathed a sigh of relief...he probably could have defeated them, but it wasn't was easy or as sure a thing as it once had been. He may have looked and felt much younger than his age, but that age was nearly eighty. Now, it only remained to calm the victim and give the police an accurate description of this new Tiger Tong. They were much better equipped than in his day, and could be trusted to deal with the threat. He was, after all, merely a contemplative monk now, not a hot-blooded vigilante.... * * * * "How is the world outside?" Brother Qi asked as Jiang entered the hidden underground monastery. "Continuing to remind me why I spend most of my time in here," Jiang chuckled. He pulled a small packet out from under his belt, a number of envelopes bound with a rubber band. Withdrawing one of the letters, he handed the rest ot Qi. "But neither sleet, nor snow, nor rampaging tiger spirits will...well, you know. I think most of these are from Xiaoming's family," he added. The newest of the cloistered monks still maintained some ties to his brothers and sisters, via the post office box the monks maintained. While keeping the world at arm's length, they did not go so far as some sects and attempt to wall it off entirely. "Rampaging tiger spirits? What has the world come to...?" Brother Qi muttered to himself as he walked off to distribute the mail. What indeed, Jiang thought to himself. The duty of leaving the cloister had once been a rotating job, but in recent months it had been decided that only those best able to handle themselves in a fight should go. The Tiger Tong was only the latest manifestation of the many ways in which the world was going mad. Old gods returning, new ones claiming to be born, and the same old superhumans sticking around in the mix. Jiang half expected Buddha himself to descend from the heavens to put a stop to the insanity, but such a thing had not happened yet. Nor had the God of the Christians or the Moslems gotten involved, not in any way that was certain. Shaking his head, Jiang turned to the letter he held in his hands. It had no return address, but the postmark put it in Boise, Idaho. As he knew no one who lived there, it had to be one of his many wandering friends, posting mail from wherever they happened to be at the time. "Hey, J.S., long time no write!" it opened. Ah, even if the handwriting weren't obvious, only one man addressed him by his initials. Chuck Morse, once known as the Weapons Master. Like Jiang, he was a man with no supernatural powers, and he lacked even the genetic enhancements that Jiang's father had provided. As a result, he looked every bit of his nearly fifty years, if not older in some ways. But he was a tough scrapper, and he had roamed the highways of the nation for most of his life, helping out those who were "below the radar" of the supernatural defenders of mankind. "Enjoying a few days in the 'Big City' after a long stint in Montana helping a family of ranchers deal with some kind of ghostly presence. Wasn't one of Fantom's loose ends, though...probably an actual-dead-people sort of ghost. Still not sure what ended up working, but things stayed quiet long enough to feel okay moving on. I got one of those satellite phones now, though, so they can call me up if the boogeyman comes back. It's not supertech, so it's kinda clunky, but that's okay. I've been seeing this Anchor lady on and off lately, so I wouldn't be able to keep using a superphone even if I had one." Jiang quirked an eyebrow, then read on. "Oh, yeah, I didn't mention Carla in the last letter, did I? I guess I didn't wanna jinx it. She's got some kooky religious views, worships a guy named Horus (ain't he one of those Conclave of Super-Villains guys?) and stuff, but once we agreed to not talk about gods and the like we got along great. Neither of us is the settling down sort, but we might just try out one of those long distance relationships. But what about you, J.S.? You're not getting any younger either, much as you might not look your age! And I doubt there's a lot of dating opportunities in that barrel of monks you call home these days! "Anyway, I might be coming down your way in a week or so, if you can get to a phone, gimme a call and we'll have drinks (okay, tea for you) and reminisce about how the crazy old days were downright tame compared to what the kids are up to these days. Maybe I'll find you a lady, too." A phone number was scrawled under the signature, and Jiang made a mental note to try it next time his duties took him outside. He set the letter on his nightstand and thought about Chuck's admonition. Should he consider marriage, or at least siring an heir? There had been that woman Morgan Adams introduced him to back in '95, but that had gone nowhere. He knew that, barring violence or accident, he would likely live another century, so there was no great urgency in the matter of founding his own family, but it was still a matter to consider. Jiang's reverie was interrupted by a pounding on the door. Loud, insistent, and not the knock of someone requesting entry. No, it was the sound of the door being battered in! He sprang for the hallway, joined by several of the other brothers. Some had picked up weapons, and one had the forethought to bring a heavy bar that could be placed across the door if need be. Jiang got into the foyer just in time to see that forethought rendered moot, as a clawed fist smashed through the heavy wooden door in a shower of splinters! "We've come for you, old monk!" a familiar voice snarled from the other side of the rapidly collapsing door. "We don't forget a scent, and yours was easy to track!" the smallest of the three Tiger Tong members he'd faced earlier shouted. With that, the door finished falling to pieces, and a quintet of hairy man-beasts swarmed into the foyer, with more visible behind them. There was a brief moment of tension, as the Tigers flexed their claws and the monks tightened grips on their weapons. Then the Tiger Tong vanished in the blink of an eye. "What...what happened?" Xiaoming asked, nearly dropping his spear. "I don't..." Jiang started. Then he doubled over as his world became pain and fire.... * * * * [Elsewhere] As the flames faded, Jiang found himself in a familiar room. It was the throneroom of his father, Doctor Huang Sheng, as it had been before Jiang broke with his father and left the castle in flames. A mix of mystical and technological trappings, all overlaid by late-Manchu court finery. "What trickery is this?" Jiang demanded of the empty throne. "A teleporter, perhaps? Did you want the Tiger Tong for your own purposes, father, and simply realize I could be had in the same stroke?" "Plausible, would it not be?" his father's voice echoed from all around. "I have certainly done a great deal of work with human-animal hybrids recently, such as in Project: Onslaught." The voice started to localize at the throne, and Doctor Sheng faded into view seated on it, in his finest robes. "But, no. I cannot claim to be behind whatever happened to your furry playmates. Nor am I truly your father. Nor, might I add, are either of us truly here," he gestured at the throneroom. "An illusion, then?" "In the sense that it is all in your mind, yes. I am all in your mind as well. You might call me the technological ghost of your father...he has met with an unplanned end, and I have been activated." Jiang clutched his head. "An implant of some sort?" The false Doctor laughed. "Nothing so crude, my son. I have had access to alien nanotechnology for over a decade now, and after our clash in Tanzania I decided to make use of it while I had you captive. You see, I never really wanted you dead, no matter how far you strayed. You represent my future, after all, and there was always time to bring you back to the proper path." "I would never willingly join you...or my real father, 'ghost'. You should know that." The technospirit shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. But science offered an alternative to the patient path. I, a simulation of your father's mind and experiences, was insinuated into your body while you lay in that cell in Tanzania. Then Adams and Preston were simply allowed to rescue you. Every so often, I arrange to have an agent transmit updates of my memories into your brain, and a clever neutrino-based signal ensures that no matter where you or I may go on this planet, my lifesigns were being constantly monitored. Now, sadly, I have died or otherwise departed the mortal world, and this program has gone active as one of many, MANY contingency plans." "There is nothing sad about the demise of my father," Jiang gritted his teeth. "Unless he brought down innocent lives in the process." The nanotech infection laughed again. "Ironic that you might say that. I do not know the nature of his...my death, and as the last update was several weeks ago I cannot even make an educated guess. But at least one innocent will die. YOU," he pointed a bony finger at Jiang. "You are welcome to try!" Jiang fell into a fighting stance. The simulacrum turned the pointed finger into a dismissive wave. "It is already done. Your mind...your spirit, to be superstitious...is trapped in this virtual castle. You will not be burning this one down, oh no. Eventually you will simply fade away. Or perhaps you will be re-educated and given a new body, should my whim decide. But you are talking to a mere facet of my being, the nanotechnology has by now totally usurped control of your body. Huang Sheng is reborn!" "My brothers will stop you!" "Those pathetic monks? They will not even know what happened. Do you think I'd be foolish enough to try to impersonate you without retaining full access to all aspects of your memories and personality? And, once they have outlived any use I may have for them, the monks will simply be disposed of, or used for experimental subjects." "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" * * * * [July 8, 1998 - San Francisco, CA] "Brother Jiang awakens!" came a voice from across the room. "Jiang, are you..." Qi started to ask. Jiang sat up. "Yes, I am whole. It seems my little scrap earlier in the day took more of a toll than this old man is willing to admit to," he smiled wryly. "And then the stress of the second attack, and the mysterious vanishing...but I will be fine. Do you know what happened?" Qi shook his head. "The attackers are all gone. The city above is in chaos, it seems that a significant portion of the population simply vanished without warning...vehicles crashed, the power grid went briefly offline, and there are riots breaking out among the remaining population. The brothers are split...some think we should go above and render aid, others that we should reinforce our doors and wait for things to calm down. What do you think, Jiang?" "I think...I need a bit more rest. But, if a telephone can be reached safely, call this number and ask Mister Morse on my behalf for whatever he knows about the situation," Jiang gestured to the letter, still resting on his nightstand. "Now, please...leave me for an hour, so I may collect my senses." Brother Qi nodded while picking up the letter, and the monks in the small room with him left behind him. "So, mass disappearances, not just the Tiger Tong?" Huang mused aloud in Jiang's voice. "Interesting. There had been mutterings that the so-called Godmarket would come with a steep price, and perhaps this is it. But I never followed one of those hopped-up godlings, so that does not explain my own demise. Not directly, in any case." He crossed to the other side of the cell, where a small octagonal mirror was hung. "My son has taken good care of this body, at least. But I will need to have the nanomachines reshape it before I can resume my position among the Technomancers. And I can't do that while the monks are here...oh, be silent, my son. I can hear you begging for their lives. And, to be frank, I find I have little taste for killing them. Perhaps the conscience is in part genetically determined? How revolting, but definitely an interesting avenue for my work. Yesss...a conscience-altering retrovirus would be very useful. But come, for now I will let you be my better angel, as the westerners say. And once matters here have been resolved to my satisfaction, we can travel to Khadam. I take it you have no qualms about finding whatever son of a dog killed me and meting out some justice? After all, anyone who could kill your dear, departed father has got to be an even bigger monster...." ============================================================================= Next Issue: The End Times continue with a look at what Chuck Morse was doing with his life on that fateful day, in "Drifter"! ============================================================================= Author's Notes: I was thinking about the Shengs one morning while in the process of writing CSS #5, contemplating what Jiang's fate might have been, and how Huang could have undone his Magene. Then I turned to the thought, "Why would Huang Sheng have denied himself such an advantage?" After all, it's not like there was a whole lot of warning about what was coming, and just doing it so that Anchors would have no sway over him seemed a weak reason. Then it came to me in a flash. Losing the Magene wasn't the main purpose, it was merely a side effect. Huang uploaded his brilliant mind into a body without the Magene, an emergency failsafe to be activated in the event of his untimely death. I toyed with the idea that he cloned Jiang at some point, but decided it would be more dramatic if he took over his actual son, fighting for control of the body. Unfortunately, in CSV #19 it was clear that Huang was the one who won such a struggle, so no happy ending for Jiang. Or, as it turned out, much of a struggle.... This was originally going to be a one-shot story, but after writing the letter from Chuck I realized there was a story there too. And why not try to flesh it out into a proper arc, focusing on where various Second Age people were at the end of the Third Age? At the moment, The End Times is planned for three issues total...there were more than three Second Age survivors around on July 6, 1998, but most of them share a very similar ending (and Doctor Developer's story is Andy's to tell, not mine). So, Part II will see things through the eyes of another survivor, and the final part (Part III at the moment) will finally show what happened when the Barrier went up...from the point of view of one of the superhumans who sacrificed everything to create it! ============================================================================ For all the back issues, plus additional background information, art, and more, go to http://www.eyrie.org/~dvandom/ASH ! 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