Men of Mystery

Fireside Chat

The week passed quickly for Craig. He went around Central City as Cerulean leaping great distances saving people from fires, stopping criminals from robbing banks, and rescuing anyone in immediate peril.

The Scarlet Avenger was on the prowl too. Gassing hoodlums and racketeers in the city. His black Oldsmobile was seen nightly roaring through the streets chasing one crook or another.

The police continued to hunt for both heroes but not with the same vigor as they had four or five months ago.

When the week was up, Cerulean went back to Governor Peterson's office. He found the state's top executive in office talking with another man. The new person was tall and thin. He wore a dark suit and had dark hair.

Cerulean hesitated as he came in through the window when he saw the stranger but Peterson's heard the cyan sentinel entered and waved him in.

"It's all right," said the governor. "Agent 12 here is someone you should meet."

"Agent 12?" repeated Cerulean.

"Yes, I'm a special agent from the President," the man explained.

"I see."

"But he's not here himself."

"No," said the agent. "That would be difficult to do logistically and a security nightmare. But he's prepared to meet you in a federal retreat near the Maryland-Pennsylvania border called Hi-Catoctin. Be there in three days."

Cerulean studied the man and looking for some hint of what was going on, but the agent just looking back stoically without a trace of emotion or sentiment. He was just doing the task to which he had been assigned. Fair enough. Cerulean could work with that.

"Very well. I'll be there."

Agent 12 inclined his head. "I will inform the President accordingly."

*.*.*

The two days later, Craig took the train down to Washington D.C. and got a room at a hotel. He spent the night there and in the morning, he rented a car and drove north and west into the Catoctin National Park. He parked at the visitor center and changed his clothes faster than anyone could discern. Then he leaped into the air. From high above everything he could see into the restricted area reserved for federal employees. There was a building — a lodge of some kind — down there. He landed next to it and went inside.

The room he entered was rustically furnished with a fireplace and few large highjack chairs and a sofa. Wood paneling covered the walls and a man, in a wheelchair, sat reading a book. He looked up and Cerulean saw he wore glasses and was smoking a cigarette. A smile came to his face. Gray hair flourished on either side of his head and

"Come in," he said.

Cerulean stepped closer and looked around.

"We are alone," said the man. "My security detail is nearby but cannot hear our conversation."

"Is that necessary?" asked the cyan sentinel.

"Yes, because what I have to say cannot leave this room. Our national's security depends on it."

"Very well."

"I've been following your exploits in the newspaper," the man in the wheelchair began, "and I understand from Governor Peterson you want to do something about Germany and her treatment of her people."

"Yes, that's true."

"I sympathize. I believe war with Germany will come and if I could declare war myself, I would, but only Congress can do that."

"So then that's nothing I can do to help?" asked Cerulean.

"Well, drafting you and putting you in the Army does nothing because we aren't actively at war. I could assign you to the German ambassador's staff. In such a position you could collect intelligence, but you couldn't interfere with any mistreatment of the locals."

"I'm not sure I can do that. The suffering and mistreatment must end."

"Yes, but there's little we can do about that just now," said the older man. "So the question is what to do in the meantime? I think the answer is to find other people like yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean people with great strength and who are impervious to bullets. People who can leap great distances and bend steel."

"I see. Or people with other fantastic abilities."

"Yes, if they exist because we are going to need every such person when war does come. If we can assemble a team of such people it could be critical to winning the coming confrontation."

"A team? I never considered working with other people. Of course, I don't even know if other people like myself exist."

"They may not," conceded the man in the wheelchair. "But if they do we need to find them."

"All right. I'll do what I can to find other people like me."

"I'll send Agent 12 to Central City monthly so you can report to him and when the time is right, I will inform you."

"Very good. Thank you." He shook the seated man's hand.

"Good luck," said the other man.

Cerulean smiled grimly and left, leaping back to the rented car so he could change back to Craig Crent.

He had a lot of work to do now; he went back to Central City on the next train and got started on it.