Knightblade and the King
Poking his head inside Helena’s office on his way to his own, Tyler’s presence is not immediately noted by the beautiful physician, for Helena is glued to her computer’s 21" monitor, and she’d absolutely fascinated by whatever is on the screen.
"What do you have there?" Tyler asks. No response. "Helena. What’s that?" he tries a little louder.
She jumps. "Bloody hell! You scared me half to death, Tyler." She sips her coffee, and makes a face. "Ugh! Cold. It’s a sample of Python’s blood," she says, swiveling the monitor so he can see. "The Hudson Hawks captured every last member of the Serpent Syndicate last night," she explains, a bit gleefully. "And I take it you haven’t been in your office yet. Your assignment ought to be waiting for you. All of us have been reassigned." Her attention returns to her monitor.
Stepping over the pile of charts next to his door, Tyler whistles as he steps over to his computer. Checking e-mail briefly before getting started -- nothing good, just some responses to the chess problem he’d posted to rec.games.chess.
"Ooh," he says, looking at the assignment. "This is interesting."
To: mcbain@mrc.org
From: thompson@mrc.org
Subject: Reassignment
Priority: Critical
Tyler,
You have been reassigned as of this morning. Given the enclosed parameters, you are to design containment facilities for each member of the Serpent Syndicate. Power resources will be ample for nearly any need, however, you will need to conserve as much energy as possible. You are not to inquire as to the location of the containment facility, and such questions will be considered a breach of clearance and will result in immediate disciplinary action. You will work with Dr. Amory, who is detailing the physical requirements of each member of the Syndicate. Please review enclosed guidelines.
Joseph Thompson, MD, Ph.D
Assistant Director, Metahuman Research Corporation
The attached files include what biological information is available so far about the members of Serpent Syndicate, and Tyler works steadily through the day, pausing only for a quick lunch from the cafeteria ("Packaged sandwiches again?" he groans, surveying the BLT), and for a quick call to Silver Avenger Chow to call off the fencing lesson.
"I’m sorry, Silver Avenger is on assignment," a pleasant voice tells him. "May I take a message?"
‘Well, that takes care of that problem, anyway,’ Tyler thinks. "Sure, just tell her that Tyler McBain called to cancel the fencing lesson this afternoon."
It’s nearing 6 p.m. when the phone rings -- again. "Dr. McBain," he answers wearily, rubbing his eyes. Ten hours of work and only halfway done with the prototype of Black Mamba’s cell.
There’s a crackling, and a distant voice on the other line. "What? Speak up, I can’t hear you," he says, louder.
"This is Dee," a woman’s voice says as the line clears somewhat. "You’re needed here immediately. Dusty is in the University Hospital at Duke. His doctors aren’t expecting him to last the night." Her voice is cracked with grief. "I made arrangements already -- your flight leaves SFO in 45 minutes, Delta flight 693. Sorry it’s not first class, but they were all full."
Tyler sits in stunned silence for a second before saying, "I'm on my way." He hangs up the phone and begins shutting down his office in an almost mechanical way.
Walking down the hall, he stops by Helena's office and notices she is not in. Picking up a pen and paper, he writes her a note:
Helena,
Cousin in Duke hospital. Have to go home. Please tell staff. Will call when know more.
Tyler
Leaving the building and getting in his car, Tyler rolls down the window and heads for the airport. The fresh air helps snap him out of his distracted state, and he begins to think about what Dee told him, "Dusty in the hospital. It's unbelievable. He'd hit the only pillow in a pile of broken glass. And why Duke? Baptist is closer and almost as good. Sure, Duke's got better research facilities, but...," Tyler's mind comes to a mental halt as the consequences of his own thoughts sink in. Quickly, he picks up his cellular phone and calling information, gets the number for Duke University Hospital. Dialing the hospital, he asks for Admissions and when they answer, says, "Yes, this is Dr. Tyler McBain. My cousin is a patient there, and I'd like to know his status. His name is Jesse Harden. I believe he is in Intensive Care."
The phone rings and rings; obviously Cassandra Salvatore isn’t at her desk and her cellular isn’t on. Damn, Tyler thinks, as the last call for Delta flight 693 is made. Pocketing the cellular, he strides forward, just as the Delta girl was about to close the door.
Settling into the cramped middle seat, Tyler fights the urge to sigh. The heavy Mexican woman beside him takes one look at the scientist and pulls out rosary beads, beginning to mumble the prayers under her breath.
Duke University Hospital wouldn’t release any information about Dusty, claiming only immediate family would have access to that information. "I’m sorry, sir," a young woman said, "But that’s hospital policy." Not even his appeal for her to ask Dee worked. Then the call to Cassandra was unfruitful. This was turning out to be a horrible day.
The connecting flight at Dallas/Ft. Worth was thirty-five minutes late, though by a stroke of luck the Mexican woman -- who prayed the rosary the entire flight! -- isn’t on the second jet.
By the time Tyler’s flight has arrived, it’s nearly 5 in the morning, local time. The airport is relatively quiet, though there is the most stunningly beautiful woman waiting at the gate, who smiles, a little embarrassed, as she sees him.
It’s the superheroine Selena, and the costume she’s wearing leaves little to the imagination. "Disgusting!" an elderly woman pronounces, walking past the woman. "Come along, George," she bops her husband on the head with a People magazine.
Selena’s skin is a dark olive, and her hair is jet black. Though her costume is cut high, she’s exposing a large part of her right thigh. Around her neck is a silver amulet of a crescent moon. Closer examination reveals it’s covered in tiny Arabic script. She isn’t wearing a mask, and her almond eyes are a honey brown.
Selena has a small reputation -- Tyler had seen her on the news when he’d lived in Hudson City. She’d assisted the Hudson Hawks on occasion, though she was based in New York City. She’s a powerful healer, and rumor had it, was the personification of a goddess (though that could be attributed to her appearance, Tyler could suppose.)
"Um, hi, Dr. McBain?" she says unconfidently. "Your aunt asked me to meet you here. I’m Selena."
"Pleased to meet you," Tyler says politely, "and call me Tyler."
She accepts his regards pleasantly. "I just wanted to let you know, or rather, your aunt wanted you to know that every avenue of healing has been explored. I’m a healer," she explains, "And your Aunt had called me as soon as she heard of your cousin’s condition. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to help much, just stabilize him."
"Well, we certainly appreciate your trying. I guess you must be a friend of Dusty's?" Tyler asks knowing his cousin's luck at meeting beautiful women in strange situations.
"Uh, no, actually I met his mother when she was on vacation in Manhattan." She shrugs. "I rescued her from a mugger, in all honesty."
"Um, alright," Tyler says puzzled by her response, "why don't I just ask you a few things about Dusty's situation."
To Tyler’s specific questions about Dusty’s condition, Selena had little to add. "I’m no doctor," she says. "I can detect when there is something wrong, and I can fix it --usually. What I do know is what Dr. Edwards told your aunt. Apparently something has gone wrong with Dusty’s immune system, and it’s gone into overload." It’s difficult to tell, but it appears that Selena’s olive skin darkens as she mentions Dr. Edwards’ name.
"What's his doctor like?" Tyler asks, continuing with, "I mean... I don't want to step on anyone's toes, but I *am* going to do whatever I can to help Dusty."
This time Tyler is positive the superheroine blushes. "He seems nice, and very sympathetic," she says. "His knowledge was impressive, and while I was there he called several immunologists, dragging them out of bed to come and examine your cousin," she says, walking out of the airport's main exit and into the humid summer air. "He seems to have clout at the hospital."
Tyler is aware there are many disorders of the immune system which can cause the immune system to attack the body as though it were a foreign substance.
Selena flies Tyler to the Duke University Hospital, dropping him off at the emergency entrance, the only door open at this time of night. "He’s in ICU room 24. Sorry I wasn’t more help," she apologizes. "Do tell your aunt to call if anything else happens."
"Selena, thank you again for coming. Listen, here's my card. If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to call," Tyler offers very sincerely.
Preparing to refuse, Selena looks at the haggard face in front of her and simply says, "I won't. Thank you." Leaving a silvery trail behind her, she flies north into the lightening sky.
It takes Tyler nearly twenty minutes to find ICU -- the hospital is a labyrinth, and many of the main passageways through public areas aren’t set to open until seven a.m. A harried resident directs him in the right direction, and soon he’s standing in front of ICU room 24.
Dee is seated outside the room in a green plastic chair; there is a window into the ICU room, and Dusty is hooked up to a half a dozen machines. An ICU nurse -- decked out like an astronaut -- is watching the monitors next to his bed.
"Tyler, I am glad you were able to make your flight," his aunt says, patting another chair beside her. "Come and sit down."
As she moves a hospital tray of food from the seat, placing it on the ground, Tyler’s stomach does a flip-flop as he sees the remnants of a bowl of raspberry jell-o.
Aunt Dee reiterates Selena’s story, adding only that she’d been called early today with the news Dusty had collapsed. "And now," she says, "I am being told that he may not survive another day." Her face is lined with worry, and in her hands, Dee is knotting and unknotting a tissue.
She tells him that Dr. Edwards is in the physicians’ lounge, and that he’s been very helpful all evening. Because of his condition, Dusty is being held in a completely sterile environment, and family members are not being admitted currently. However, since Dee had told Dr. Edwards about Tyler’s background, he told her that Tyler would be welcome to discuss the situation with him when he arrived.
"I have had to take him into my confidence," she says to Tyler, very seriously. "As I am doing so with you now. Dusty has had a strong healing factor his whole life, and I think this may be what’s causing his illness. Especially since from what Dr. Edwards has says, it’s his immune system backfiring."
"Also, I don’t know why that poor girl’s powers didn’t heal Dusty -- they well should have. I saw her heal a man who’d been cut nearly in half by Durak once on CNN!"
"Sometimes healing alone isn't enough, Dee. You've gotta stop the source of the damage too," Tyler continues in a light whisper, "That's why this is important. How did Dusty get his healing ability? Was it from one of his weird encounters or did he inherit it? If he did, we need to contact Aunt Carol and ask her if this has happened in her family before. If we can find the cause, maybe we can find a cure."
Tyler's aunt shakes her head. "I don't know where the ability came from, Tyler. No one else in the family has paranormal abilities, and I must say I was shocked when Dusty told me about his. I'm just glad I knew enough to tell the doctor."
Entering the lounge, Tyler realizes that he hadn't needed to ask Dee for a description of Doctor Edwards. There's only one person in the room, and his ID tag clearly says "Edwards." Stopping by a vending machine, Tyler gets a cup of coffee before walking over to the doctor.
"Dr. Edwards? I'm Tyler McBain," he says taking a sip of coffee from his left hand while extending his right to the physician. Dr. Edwards is a handsome man in his middle thirties, with black hair and piercing blue eyes. He's wearing wire-rimmed eyeglasses as he quickly skims through a chart. "What can you tell me about my cousin's condition?"
The physician sighs. When he speaks, his voice is deep, and calming. "There isn't a whole lot to go on at this point, Tyler. I gather your aunt told you the basics?" He waits for Tyler to nod. "What we do know is that whatever metahuman factor is at work here is exacerbating the situation. Until we get our tests back -- if we can even determine what exactly to test -- we won't know for sure. What we do know is that he has an unusually high white blood cell count. The rheumatologist I called in is examining what data we do have, and he will return shortly to brief me. If you would like, you can stay for that."
"Do you have an opinion on what the cause is?"
"As to a cause, at this point I am hypothesizing a viral agent triggered his reaction. Actually, the best way to think of his condition right now is that he's having one big allergic reaction -- to himself. You can take a look at his chart" he holds the chart out to Tyler -- "But as you can see, we haven't gotten much back yet. His temp isn't really high -- it's 100 -- but it's symptomatic of a systemic hyperimmune response." Tyler confirms the doctor's comments with a quick scan down the page. "I had wanted to try to get a hold of Dr. Amory" he continues, "But I haven't had any luck -- the phone number I have for her is old. She's transferred to California."
"I can reach her," Tyler states, "In fact, if I had known Dusty had paranormal abilities, she could have flown out with me. Do you think we have time to fly her here or should we just set up a link with her lab in San Francisco."
Dr. Edward runs a hand through his short hair. "I don’t know -- it’s so iffy right now that he may not even make it until she picks up the phone. You’re better off, I think, trying to coordinate via the computer. Duke’s got the latest and greatest."
"Okay, I'll give her a call," Tyler says as he pulls out his cellular phone.
"Helena? Sorry to wake you."
"Hm, what?" she says. "Who is this, Tyler?" She’s foggy from sleep, but her voice becomes more commanding as she responds to Tyler’s pronouncement of Dusty’s condition.
"I know. Look, I need your help. Turns out my cousin's a paranormal..."
"Doctor Edwards, could we get a CAT-scan done on Dusty?" Tyler asks as they walk down the hall towards the teleconference room.
"We’ve already done an MRI and rushed the results. We’ll have them in the morning."
"Well, I've done a lot of research in paranormal healing. One thing that I've noticed is that it requires a large amount of the body's energy to supercharge the healing process. Dusty's symptoms could be the result of his healing ability being continually active. Not that it's specifically attacking his cells, instead it's taking all the energy he needs to live to fight a nonexistent problem or one that it *can't* fix."
"My thought is that perhaps he's had damage to the part of the brain that controls his healing ability. Any head trauma might have already been healed, but it can't heal the damage to itself. It's like trying to scratch an itch that you can't reach. We've just got to find out where that itch is and scratch it for him."
"I know what you’re saying with this. But to be honest, I’m really leaning towards the virus theory. I know how to treat Dusty’s symptoms in a normal human being. And we’ve tried steroids. But it’s not working with him. I am anxious to see what Dr. Amory’s opinion is. Ah, look, the teleconferencing equipment is set up already. Thanks, Murray," Dr. Edwards claps a student on the back.
Helena’s face appears on a monitor. She looks a bit tired -- it is only 3 am on the West Coast, and she’s been working hard for the last week. Her hair is in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a St. Martin’s College shirt. Quickly but comprehensively, Dr. Edwards briefs her on the situation while Tyler sends her the information via e-mail.
There’s a long pause while she reviews the information. "Interesting, interesting," she says, pursing her lips. Looking up at the monitor, she says, "I think that I may have a solution. Stop the steroids. You’re going to need to use a combination of drugs, and it’s only going to retard the process. I completely concur with you, Dr. Edwards -- I think it’s viral, too. I’ll tell you why when I get there. She rapidly describes the best course for Dusty’s regimen, and signs off. "I’ll just take a cab when I get there, Tyler. Don’t bother to pick me up. And I’ll tell MRC that this was a deal I just couldn’t refuse." When Helena arrives at the hospital, it’s nearly noon the next day. Dee finally went home for some needed rest after Dusty’s condition stabilized, and even Tyler managed to nap on the couch in the ICU physician’s lounge. Though his cousin hasn’t regained consciousness at this point, he looks 100% better.
A meeting is arranged with Dr. Edwards and two of his residents. Helena looks at the newest results and nods. "This is exactly what I thought I’d find. When I was studying in England, one of the things which my graduate team discovered early on was that one of the most common mutations of the human genome was an increased immune response. Really, this is all that allergies are -- a hyper immune system." Everyone nods as she continues. "A member of the British paranormal intelligence team, whose code name at the time was Radcliffe, was known to have an increased healing rate. He’d made the enemy of a scientist in Romania, and he engineered a virus which would trigger Radcliffe’s immune system, causing it to overload. He died within 72 hours of evidencing symptoms," she adds. "But not before the virus spread among his teammates. Luckily we stopped it -- with the same drugs you’re using to treat Dusty now. But it was only a stopgap measure, and we had to run extensive tests to find a way to kill the virus in each person. It’s different every time."
After the doctors leave the room, and she’s procured Edward’s permission to review the case in more depth (and after Edwards manages to elicit a promise to discuss the case over dinner that night, to Tyler’s disgust) she turns to her coworker. "The aspect of this case which bothers me the most that the scientist who had initially engineered this virus -- we called it APT-17 -- was captured by UNTIL, and his lab destroyed. There were only records -- not even an actual sample of the original virus left to duplicate it from. We know we caught all the cases in Britain. How did Dusty get in contact with it? Who were his enemies? Who else knew of his powers? Do you know who else knew of your cousin’s abilities?" She sighs, and places a hand on Tyler’s arm, and gives him a sympathetic look. "I’m sorry I’m deluging you with questions, when you’re in the middle of this mess. Where are you staying? Supposedly I’m at the Hyatt. I am going to get in contact with my MI-5 cronies," she smiles, "and see if they don’t have a better handle on this virus." Turning to walk down the hall, she says, "Good luck, Tyler. You can trust me to get to the bottom of this, I assure you."
"Helena," Tyler says as she starts to walk away, "I want you to know that no matter what happens, I'll always be grateful for what you've done. You've given my family hope, and I can never repay you for that."
The physician waves away his compliment modestly. "I’m just doing my job, Tyler," she says, "But thank you." And she smiles, a little, to herself as she walks down the hallway.
Tyler watches the nurse through the observation glass as she injects Dusty's medication into the IV. Suddenly, Dusty's body begins to twitch and spasm. The nurse leans over him to check his life support, and is jerked into the air as a worm explodes from Dusty's abdomen and punctures its way through her chest. She is thrown against the wall in a gout of blood and tissue.
Tyler beats his fists against the glass ineffectively. More worms extend from Dusty's body and begin to lift him from the bed. Tyler is shocked to see Dusty's eyes open and hear him say, "Ty, help me."
"Oh dear god," Tyler thinks, "he's still alive!" Tyler starts cutting at the window with the phase sword, but the blade just skitters off the glass. He hears Dusty's voice again screaming, "Tyler, do something!"
"I'm trying! I'm trying!"
"Wake up, man. You're having a bad dream," someone says as he shakes Tyler to consciousness. Tyler rubs his eyes and takes several deep breaths to calm his racing heart before sitting up on the sofa in the physicians' lounge.
"Oh, God, what a nightmare. You wouldn't believe what I sa...," Tyler stops in mid-sentence as he notices the lone man in the room with him, "Um, am I still dreaming?"
"No way, man. I'm one hundred percent the real thing," the man says with a recognizable southern drawl.
"But you're...," Tyler starts, but is interrupted as the man says, "Yeah, I am. But I go by Leroy now. So, call me that if you don't mind."
"Okay... Leroy. Wait, you can't be him. First, you're too young, and second, why would you be here?" Tyler states as if settling the issue.
"Well, I'm here because I wanted to see if my friend Dusty was okay. And as for your other question, can you honestly tell me you don't know any other men who lived in the forties and still look young today?" Leroy says with a conspiratorial wink.
Tyler is shocked by this revelation. He remembers Dusty saying that he had met this man now, but apparently he also knows about Protector and Tyler's connection to him. Which means he knows about Knightblade. Tyler's mind whirls at the implications of his secret going public and then he stops as he realizes this is the last man to go public with anything. "Okay, good point," Tyler says with a resigned sigh, "As far as Dusty is concerned..., well, he's stable at least. Unfortunately, he's still critical. Somehow he's picked up some bioengineered virus that plays havoc with the paranormal immune system. They think they can cure him, but it's going to take time."
"Now, we're trying to figure out how he came in contact with a virus that was supposedly wiped out years ago. It's kinda tough considering I didn't even know he was a paranormal until yesterday. Who knows what enemies he might have made?"
"I know," Leroy says succinctly.
"You do?" Tyler asks somewhat hesitantly, "Could you perhaps... tell me that information?"
"I don't know, man. I gotta ask you a question first," Leroy says gauging his words carefully, "Do you believe in magic? I mean really believe, ya know."
Tyler studies the man in front of him and replies, "You mean the kind of magic that summons up giant forty foot worms from the darkest pits of Hell?" At Leroy's nod, he continues, "Yeah, sure, of course. Why wouldn't I?"
"You're definitely part of Dusty's family. Although, I'm not one to talk about weird families," Leroy says, "Anyway, you're gonna have to trust me that I am going to tell you everything I can. There are still some things that Tyler McBain wasn't meant to know... yet."
"There's a place between shadow and light where reality kinda blurs, man. That's where Dusty and I live. We fight a war a lot like the one you fight. You know, we help people and do the right thing. Of course, we got our bad guys too, like your VIPER. Unfortunately, our guys don't wear green; so, they don't stand out so well. They're the guys pushing the shadow into the light. We just call 'em... The Enemy."
"Some of us are recruited into this fight, and some of us are born to it. Dusty was definitely one of the latter. Sometimes both sides would show up at a place only to find Dusty sitting there with a beer in his hand waiting to watch the show. One of the big guys took an interest in him, and over a few drinks, convinced Dusty to join our side."
"Last I heard, he was in Transylvania fighting a bunch of vampires. That was probably a week ago."
"Transylvania!" Tyler exclaims, "Helena said that the scientist that created the virus was from Romania. Transylvania is just a part of Romania. That must be where Dusty picked it up. I'll have to go over and check it out."
"Whoa man," Leroy says as he grabs ahold of Tyler's arm, "aren't you forgetting something." To Tyler's puzzled expression, he replies, "Dozens of kidnapped people, giant worms, Serpent Syndicate, stop me if I'm ringing any bells."
"Look, between my people and your Aunt Dee, nobody's going to get at Dusty while he's in this hospital. I'm sure that purty little doctor friend of yours will have him up in no time. This can wait till he's better. Some things can't."
"Okay, you're right, of course... Leroy," Tyler says, "Geez, the Serpent Syndicate. We'll be running overtime for weeks on that. Helena's got the best idea. If we could cure them, we could hold them anywhere. But we need a pure sample of the Coil-gene for that."
"Alright, look man, just don't tell nobody where you got it," Leroy says as he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small vial with a phosphorescent green liquid in it, "Take it and get your butt back to Frisco."
Removing the vial from Leroy's hand, Tyler says, "Who would believe me?" Pausing for a moment, he continues, "Look, I hate to ask you for anything else, but I have to."
On his flight back to San Francisco, Tyler studies the green liquid in the vial. Opening his briefcase to put it up, he smiles as he looks at a photograph inside. Written on the picture in black ink are the words, "To Cassie and Tony, Viva Las Vegas, the One and Only, Elvis."
"She is gonna love this," Tyler thinks as he closes up the briefcase. He laughs to himself as he thinks, "Leroy. From the French, Le Roi, meaning The King. The man's still got it."