"The body's still warm, isn't it?" Jacob's voice was hoarse with desire. He pulled his long, dark trenchcoat tighter about his body, shivering somewhat in the cold night air. He and his partner-in-crime were beneath a bridge, dirty rain water running in rivulets at their feet.
Aaron nodded eagerly. Shorter and stockier than Jacob, he was definitely the follower, not the leader. He had a swarthy complexion and kinky hair, evidence of his Middle Eastern ancestry. He knelt down again and felt the homeless woman's neck.
She wore dirty, mismatched clothes and appeared to have been about 35 years old. Somewhat overweight - Jacob wondered how a homeless person could be so fat ... - but with an attractive enough face. A few dark sores lined her cheeks and Aaron backed away slightly.
"Yeah ... she can't have died too long ago, Jacob. But maybe we shouldn't bother her -- no telling what the old witch died from. Might be catching ..."
Jacob laughed derisively and Aaron felt a stab of regret - he'd looked like a fool in front of his friend again. "All death is catching, you moron." He took out a switchblade and smiled as the blade sprang to life. "I want to cut her open ... "
Aaron stood back while his friend began slicing through the woman's clothing. He felt both a sick revulsion and a terrible excitement - death had been a mutual interest for the boys since they had first met several years ago at school. It had been Jacob's idea to actually experience death via these 'field trips.' Up 'til now, they'd had to make do with dead dogs or cats - this would be the first person they'd evver had the chance to play with and the unexpected pleasure was obviously very pleasing to Jacob ...
Neither boy heard the animalish grunt behind them. As both bent forward to examine the woman's body, a large figure stepped from the underbrush and slid towards them. It was tall and upright like a man, but covered with fur - a silver-white, though speckled with the occasional spot of black. Saliva dripped warmly from its muzzle and a low growl issued from its throat. It was hungry this evening ... in its dim, primitive mind, it understood that it was wrong to kill humans for food - but the part of the creature that was human was buried very deep.
It was Aaron who heard it first. He turned, fear hammering in his chest - he just knew it was going to be an officer of the law - and he let out a little squawk of alarm.. What he saw was like something out of an old comic book - a half-man, half-wolf. It leapt for him, claws extended, jaws open. Aaron threw his hands up and caught the creature - for a second it looked almost like he was embracing it. Then the werewolf tore at his throat, a spray of blood spattering on Jacob's back.
Jacob had frozen in his tracks, his hand still perched over the deep incision he'd made on the woman's left breast. He glanced over his shoulders and stared into the eyes of the beast. He felt warm urine stain the front of his trousers and in that awful second before death struck he knew that his fascination with death had brought him to this - he would now experience it first-hand.
The next day...
Joey Chapman sometimes felt as if the pencil were an extension of his hand. It slid across the page almost lazily, drawing forth an image from nothing - transferring what he saw in his mind's eye to the blank page. He was tired and more than a little angry with himself - he had several deep gashes on his back that had required stitches. The wounds had been inflicted by some nutcase out to nailbomb some football patrons, and Joey knew that he should have reacted quicker. Four people had been horribly maimed in the incident ... because he hadn't been quick enough.
Joey sat in silence, ignoring everyone else in the park around him. He slowly sketched the woman's face, not even realizing who it was. He added the strong, intelligent eyes framed by glasses. The lips were cupid-bow and extremely kissable, though they were drawn in a somewhat disapproving frown. Joey stopped when the realization hit him. Romany ...
"So is this what you do on your lunch hours? Sit in the park and draw a picture of your lost love? It's a good likeness." The woman's voice brought Joey to a stop and he felt a flush rise to his cheeks. Not now ...
He looked up into the smug face of Romany Wisdom. Of all the times to run into her ... he'd never live this down. "Actually, I hadn't finished." He altered one side of the glasses into an eyepatch and added a small moustache on her upper lip. "There. Finished."
Romany grunted. "Very funny. Your sense of humor is still just as juvenile as ever."
Joey cracked a grin. "Is that why you're madly in love with me? Because I add a bit of juvenality to your otherwise boring academic life?"
"Oh, please. I wasn't even madly in love with you when I *was* in love with you. It was a passing fancy, nothing more."
"So what are you doing in the park?" Joey set his sketch pad aside and stood up, brushing the grass from his bottom.
Romany actually looked somewhat uncomfortable and Joey felt a surge of pleasure at that. It was terrible, he knew, but he enjoyed getting under her skin in any way possible. "Actually, I came to see you."
"Ah - well if you're here to beg me to take you out or something, I'm a little short on cash."
Romany rolled her eyes. "Continue to delude yourself if you want, Joey. Actually I'm here because I need a favor."
Joey heard the catch in her voice and he suddenly wished that he'd been less of an ass to her. She really did need help ... "Okay. What do you need?"
Romany sighed. "Don't get the wrong idea ... If you do, I'll pretend I never even asked you."
Joey shrugged. "Fair enough. If it's something I don't want to do, I'll pretend the same thing."
"My cousin Gretchen is getting married and -"
"You have a cousin named Gretchen? I'm dreadfully sorry, Romany."
Romany glared at him. "Let me finish, Joey. She's getting married and ... well, I've been invited to attend - next weekend. As you might remember from our thankfully short relationship, my family is somewhat ... set ... on my getting settled down soon. They're afraid I'm going to become an old maid or something and ... "
"Where would they get an idea like that?"
"Shut up, Joey. I need a date for the wedding and unfortunately Roberto is out of the country."
"Roberto?"
"My new boyfriend. He's a banker."
"Hmm. So I'm your fall-back solution?"
"Yes. It's only a few hours, Joey - and you'll get to eat and drink like a pig at the reception. Will you do it?"
"Well, with an invitation like that ... And I assume there will be some single lasses there?"
"You'll be with me, remember? I can't have you chasing women around while you're my date - my mother would see that as even worse than me not being married yet."
Joey smiled. "I'll go and I'll be on my best behavior. You'll be impressed."
Romany looked doubtful. "Don't screw this up for me. Please?"
"Have I ever let you down before? Don't answer that."
That night...
Jacqueline Crichton couldn't help herself. She stared at the smooth, flawless skin of her own face and had to force herself to look away from the mirror. She didn't think she could ever repay the Torch for the gift he'd given her ... a second chance at youth, at life ... !
"Mother? You really should stop wasting your time like that ... staring in a mirror all night. Really. Disgusting. You're supposed to be much, much older than me."
The voice made her gasp. It was Kenneth ... dear, sweet, sickly Kenneth. She turned from the mirror and stared at him. He was here, in her bedroom. The moonlight bathed him in its whiteish glow, making his normally pasty skin look even paler. "Kenneth ... ?"
He smiled at her, that bitter smile that had always broken her heart. "Hello, mother. Still young and pretty, I see. And still enjoying every minute of it."
Jackie took a step back, clutching at her thin nightgown. She'd come to terms with Kenneth's death, but a part of her had always rebelled at the notion. She hadn't been there when he'd died in Joey's arms, hadn't seen it with her own eyes ... and a part of her wouldn't let Ken die. "How ... I mean, Joey said - "
"Joey says lots of things, mother." Kenneth moved towards her, seeming to glide instead of walk. He seemed different somehow and Jackie could sense a strange electricity in the air. She wasn't sure anymore if this being was, in fact, her son at all.
"If you're not dead ... then where have you been all these months?"
Ken laughed bitterly. "I never said I wasn't dead, mother. Don't jump to conclusions."
Jackie felt herself tense up even before she caught a glimpse of his canines. His teeth were long and sharp, giving ample evidence that Joey had been right - her own son had been afflicted with the curse of vampirism.*
* (see issue #2 of the Union Jack limited series for more details, and #3 for Ken's supposed death - Barry)
"Stay away from me, Kenneth. You're not in your right mind."
Kenneth sneered. "Oh, for the first time in my existence, mother - I'm in complete control of myself. But don't worry - I didn't come here to take your life or even to grant you my unlife ... I don't think I could stand seeing you so young and arrogant for eternity. No, I just wanted to let you know that you're a grandmother now."
"What ... ?"
"You heard me, mother. You and the entire world will know the full truth eventually - but for now, I wanted you to know. All those years of treating me like an invalid ... like a sickly little child ... Now I want you to know that I'm strong. So strong that I don't need you anymore."
Jackie felt warm tears sting her eyes despite herself. "Kenneth ... You don't mean those things. I always loved you ... "
"Of course you did, mother. But not as much as you loved yourself." Kenneth's form slowly faded away as he transformed himself into mist. The small cloud fluttered away through the window, while his mother stood in the center of her bedroom, feeling as if her world had just turned upside down.
Union Jack stood outside the yellow police tape and noted with interest the bizarre chalk outlines under the bridge. He'd heard about the murders conducted here last night, ones that had been attributed to some wild animal, and some sixth sense had caused him to become concerned.
In the last few months, there had been a series of slashings and murders in this general area - some of which appeared to be the work of a serial killer with a penchant for flesh, some others which showed signs of some animal at work.
Joey heard the sounds of a policeman walking about on patrol and he stepped behind a bush. He wished that he'd gotten a look at the bodies himself - he was no pathologist, but he wish he could have seen the wounds with his own eyes. Ever since that incident with the vampire cult he'd been vigilant for another return of the Baroness ... and this could very easily be a vampiric murder spree.
Union Jack moved through the underbrush, checking the ground for clues. The police had been over the area repeatedly and had found several tracks which they attributed to a dog or wolf ... though one of tremendous size. Joey found one of them and knelt, touching it with his fingers. The gait of the beast seemed odd ... almost as if it walked on two legs, rather than four. Not to mention the depth of the tracks in the mud - the beast would have to weighed over two hundred pounds ...
The sound of a twig cracking made Joey's ears perk up. The policeman had passed by several moments ago and, even with the surge in disappearing homeless, Union Jack doubted that they policemen combing the woods ... Jack reached down and unholstered his Webley .455 - the classic gun packed one heck of a kick and it felt comforting in his hand.
The creature watched the dark-clad figure with interest. It was hungry again ... the hunger and the transformations coming almost nightly now. Its long, thick tongue flicked out and rubbed against its muzzle. In the dark recesses of its mind it knew that it was courting trouble - that hunting in this small area would eventually lead to his capture - but it had staked its claim and would not be driven away for any reason.
Union Jack heard the labored breathing and stood up slowly. It didn't sound like a vampire, that was for sure. Something made the hair on the back of his arms stand on end, some primitive urge told him to run and flee this place ... but he forced it down and stepped forward, towards the breathing.
The werewolf grunted as the moonlight struck the gun in the man's hand. A weapon ... the werewolf recognized that much. A surge of hungry rage washed over the beast and he leaped forward, claws extended and teeth bared.
Union Jack let out a curse as he saw the thing flying towards him. With a grunt, he ducked and rolled, hitting the ground hard. The werewolf overshot him but quickly turned on its haunches and glared at him.
"Nice doggy ... No need to play rough now ... " Jack raised the gun and fired as soon as the beast took a step towards him. The silver bullets that he always used cut deep into the beast's shoulder. The thing roared in agony and slashed outwards, cutting a deep gash across Joey's chest.
Joey backed away, blood trailing down the front of his uniform. The woods were alive with the sounds of both his and the beast's tortured breathing. The two locked again as the werewolf charged. A bullet pierced the thing's left lung but it snapped with its mighty jaws, ripping a large chunk of meat from Joey's left arm.
Union Jack held his good arm up under the thing's throat as the beast rolled on top of him. The gun was in his left hand, covered in blood. The werewolf snapped hungrily at his face, its fetid breath making him recoil. With a supreme effort he lifted the gun to the werewolf's skull, placing the barrel up against its temple.
The blast was incredibly loud in the still night air. The werewolf's brains flew across the ground, much of the grayish-red matter ending up on top of Joey.
Union Jack pushed the beast off and lay panting in the woods. He felt lightheaded and his wounds burned. "The police ... they heard the shots. They'll come for me and the doggy," his voice sounded far away to his owns ears and he realized with a start that he was speaking out loud.
Pulling himself up, he glanced over at the beast. The creature was gone, in its place lay a nude young man. His features were unrecognizable now and Joey realized that if he was caught it would appear that he had killed an innocent man. Panic creeped in through his foggy, pain-encrusted intellect. "Romany ... Have to get to Romany. She'll know what to do."
Joey stumbled towards his bike, nearly falling to the ground in his effort to mount it. The ride to Romany's happened in a blur - Joey would never be able to remember starting the bike nor would he remember collapsing at her front door. All he could comprehend at that moment was pain ... and the inescapable fact that he had been bitten and scratched by a werewolf.
In Union Jack # 2: Joey's health takes a turn for the worse as he and Romany must find a cure for his condition - and uncover the dark lycanthropy-filled underworld of London!
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Welcome to issue number one of Union Jack. I've always loved the costume and the concept but it wasn't until the 1998 limited series by Ben Raab and John Cassiday that I really fell in love with the character. The single vigilante against the supernatural was a great theme and one that I felt very drawn to.
I'd like to offer thanks to Alex Maggi (for his endless enthusiasm), Neil Gow (for his support on this project), and most importantly, to my wife. She puts up with all my little personal quirks and listens patiently as I tell her about my ideas. She's my muse and I love her.
Thanks,
Barry Reese