Blaine felt the hot, warm liquid spurt against his tongue. It oozed slowly down his throat, burning a path to his hungry belly. The werewolf lord was in full glory, his muzzle buried deep in the trembling young girl's throat. His teeth gnawed through the flesh and gristle, his wolfen eyes alight with desire.
The two figures, one werewolf, the other victim, were in Blaine's private chambers, located in the heart of the Werewolf Underground. The Underground was housed in the many underground tunnels located beneath London, remnants of old subways long ago closed off to traffic.
Blaine pulled back, letting the girl slide softly to the floor. Her head lay at an odd angle, her eyes staring lifelessly. The werewolf lord slowly sat back in this throne, enjoying the scent of flesh that still clung to his muzzle. It was with a sated mind that he greeted the figure of Allie. The female werewolf was panting as she pushed her way through the door, dried blood matting her fur.
Blaine sneered, "I have this terrible feeling that I'm not going to like your report, Allie."
Allie's head hung low. "I'm sorry for interrupting, Lord Blaine... I encountered Union Jack as you ordered, sire.* I'm sorry to say that I allowed him to escape."
* (last issue - Barry)
Blaine growled deep in his throat, rising back to his feet. He towered over the smaller werewolf. "I warned you not to fail me, Allie. I wanted that masked hero brought before me... Were you followed?"
Allie's eyes grew wide with alarm. "Followed? No, sire... I'm sure that Jack was too busy saving his girl to think of that."
Blaine brought a powerful claw down on Allie's head. Blood spurted as the female clattered to the floor. "Good. At least you did something right."
Union Jack hopped off his motorcycle, resting his bike against the side of the tunnel. He'd followed the werewolves at a safe distance, tracing their route through the city and into the hidden recesses beneath the city. His head ached terribly and his mind was still somewhat distracted by Romany's condition,* but the hero forced himself forward. One way or another, he had to end this.
* (Romany was injured last issue - Barry)
Union Jack ran a hand over the tunnel's walls as he moved. He could feel deep indentions on its surface... claw marks, he surmised. He lifted out his antique Webley .455 caliber pistol and held it in front of him. The tunnel was very dark, cutting down on the distance that he could see ahead of him. He could hear voices, far ahead, and beastial grunts.
It was moments like these that made Joey wonder if he should have his head examined. Normal people didn't put on a pair of longjohns and go traipsing off after an army of werewolves, after all. But being Union Jack gave his life meaning... He might not have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but this son of a dock worker had made something of himself. "Let's just hope these wolvies don't make me into dinner," he deadpanned.
Romany Wisdom popped a couple of aspirin into her mouth and chewed them slowly. The chalky taste made her frown, but she forced herself to continue. Her head ached horribly and, though she would never admit it publicly, she was dreadfully worried about Joey. The man was a damned fool and she knew she shouldn't care a whit for what happened to him... but she did, nonetheless.
"I don't know who's the bigger idiot, Joey or me."
Romany moved to the living room of her small flat, plopping herself down at her desk. Its' surface was well-hidden beneath several large stacks of occult tomes, some of which were barely held together by scotch-tape. It was here that Romany spent most of her evenings, despite the fanciful tales that she told Joey. She was seeing absolutely no one these days and wasn't looking, either. The sad truth of the matter was that Romany didn't like most people. They seemed petty and sad, wrapped up in their own narcissistic lives... What she wanted was someone who aspired to be more than just another guy at the local pub.
This train of doubt suddenly seemed very disturbing, indeed. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that Joey had been making too much of an impression on her lately... Still, his heroism was somewhat romantic, she had to admit.
Shaking her head to clear it of the troubling thoughts that were beginning to take hold, she picked up the topmost book off the stack. She opened it to a marked page and began reading. Though she hadn't mentioned it to Joey, she'd made plans to visit Egypt in the coming weeks and had spent a lot of time studying up on their mythology. If the trip went well, it might help her get over the lingering attraction she held for Joey...
Romany frowned. She was doing it again. Thinking of him. She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Please, Joey... Don't do anything too stupid..."
Union Jack was doing something so stupid, even he was amazed he was doing it. The hero was crouched on a ledge overlooking the heart of the werewolves' lair, staring down at almost two dozen of the creatures. They were engaged in various recreations; some of them sharing what looked like a human torso, a few of them sparring with one another, and others just lounging. And Union Jack was about to spring into their midst.
He held his silver dagger tightly in one hand, the other still holding his pistol. Just before he jumped to the floor, he noticed the entire group of werewolves had halted their activities and were all standing at attention.
As Union Jack continued to watch the gathering of werewolves, he saw them all turn and begin to bend knee and bow to some presence yet unseen... and then the reason for their sudden bursts of humility stepped in.
How this new arrival matched up with the rest of these werewolves was all too obvious. He stood straight as he looked around the room almost too easily, as if taking in an undisturbed domain to make certain there were no invaders in its midst. His long black cloak wrapped around him like a king's robe... or Dracula's cape, straight out of Stoker.
Either way, it gave him more of the appearance of an aristocrat, to say nothing of the long blonde hair that gave him a mane that the coat of arms of the House of Windsor would have been proud of.
Overall, the new arrival looked as if he should be wearing a crown, that perhaps this was a member of a true royal family. If so, then why would he be around werewolves, a sure scandal? And then... the new arrival smiled, revealing canine teeth that either Baron Blood would have been proud of, letting Union Jack know that while this may have been no vampire, here was a menace to match that of Dracula.
The other werewolves knelt in reverent silence, as if they were standing in the presence of the Almighty God Himself. And the new arrival shifted, until his blond hair had changed to a fur of a color that mixed grey and silver, a truly distinguished, regal color of fur that was the last mark he needed to know that this man was the leader of these werewolves of London.
He touched them on the heads lightly, as if dubbing them all knights of the realm, and as he did so, each one rose, until at last, every werewolf stood before him as he took the seat at the head of the table.
But Union Jack had leaned forward to get a better look, and... true to form... he'd shaken something loose. Not a mere pebble, no.... that would have been bad enough. No, as he just saw, he knocked loose an entire section of wall, which crashed to the floor with a loud BANG! which caused every werewolf to turn and look... to see Union Jack there before them, watching them... and a low, deep growl emitted, almost as one, from every fur-covered throat.
"Bloody hell," came their flag-covered adversary's mutter.
Meanwhile, at the Crichton home, the lady of the house, the recently-youthened Jacqueline Crichton, looked over a scarlet-and-golden costume that had been stored away for years. Its' pointed mask spoke of a time when she'd needed such disguises and the bodysuit reminded her of all those others she'd fought alongside as an Invader. Captain America, the Sub-Mariner, the same Human Torch who had given her her second chance, Roger,* and both her father and her brother... the first two Union Jacks.
* (Roger Aubrey, the second Mighty Destroyer - Barry)
But now, now she had to put it on for something completely different. Her son, who might have carried on her family's other line of work had Joey not taken it up, had instead become the second in the Falsworth line to carry the curse of the vampire. And young Mr. Chapman was... who knew where. So... the third Falsworth name in the war of hero and villain had to take on what may be one last mission.
In a flash, she had changed into that outfit and zoomed off in search of the one she called son, hoping that he had not become what his uncle had. But either way, it was a job for Spitfire.
"Bloody hell," Union Jack muttered for the second time.
"Yes, Union Jack," the regal, silver-furred wolfman spoke in that same odd sort of voice the one who'd bitten him had spoken in. "For you, I suppose this will be a sort of hell, won't it? Surrounded by those you would destroy, unable to avoid your fate, which will most likely, and ironically, be death by silver bullet... the same fate which you would impose upon us."
"And just who are you to decide my fate?" Union Jack yelled back, hoping to at least buy some time.
"I?" The werewolf laughed at that... especially when something told him why Union Jack was down here. He had been bitten... he, too, was becoming a werewolf.
Well, Allie had done something else right, after all.* Hmmm... a former enemy turned servant could be very interesting. But no, he was too dangerous to be permitted to live a werewolf.
* (Union Jack was actually infected by the original Werewolf killer back in issue #1 - Barry)
"I am Blaine, Union Jack... and I have what you are looking for..." He held up a clear vial that held a strange, blue liquid, obviously mystical in nature.
"This liquid will cure lycanthropy at the stage you are currently in now. Of course, I won't just give it to you."
Union Jack stared at him. If that liquid could really cure lycanthropy, he had to get it... no matter the cost. After all, that cost was better than bowing to this monster... or becoming one like him.
"What do you want for it, Blaine?"
Blaine laughed, a throaty, rich, mocking laugh. "No money. Simply this. Since World War I, those who carry the name of Union Jack have been considered to be among the best fighters in Britain. I have a feeling that for you, it's an unearned compliment, but... such is life. I wish to prove that I, without a doubt, am the best, and defeating a Union Jack will go a long way towards doing that. If you defeat me in unarmed combat, you will get the vial. If I win, well, you'll get a death in battle rather than by a silver bullet."
Did he really have a choice in the matter? Union Jack leapt off of his perch, going into a flip that carried him towards Blaine and allowed him to kick the werewolf in the chest with both feet... and also got him in the way of Blaine's claws, which made deep cuts across the top portion of the triple cross... cuts that caused three trickles of blood on Joey's chest.
"First blood to you, mate," Union Jack said, almost with a laugh, as he tried wiping some of the blood off. Blaine, meanwhile, simply recovered his breath and renewed his attack.
It became almost a savage dance between the two of them, Joey's punches and kicks landing as frequently as Blaine's attacks. But Blaine's attacks were a bite to the shoulder, a claw sweep that gored Joey in the stomach, and a smack to the head that brought blood to places where he hadn't been bleeding before. Yes, Blaine had been damaged, but Union Jack's damage was far worse.
If Joey didn't find some way to recover now, forget living a life as a werewolf... the Union Jack legacy would end here, below London, with no one left to take up the mantle.
Blaine laughed again, derisively. "You are the latest to become Union Jack? You? You're pathetic, boy! Hardly worth fighting!" Blaine rushed towards him... And for Union Jack, that was the final straw. He had a legacy to protect, dammit, and while Romany might make fun of him, at least she did it with love in her heart, much as she might not want to admit it. This guy was just doing it to try to make him defeat himself, and damned if he'd let that happen. He gathered up his strength, what remained of it, and swung with all his remaining might.
It had two effects. The first was to sharply snap Blaine's head back, killing him (or at least, so Joey hoped), and overturning a candle...
...which floated through the air, almost in slow motion...
...and over the heads of the astonished werewolves to land on a drape, setting it alight.
But as Joey grabbed up the liquid and headed for the surface, he turned back for a second to see the werewolves running in all different directions... and then he saw why.
The drape had burnt down and the fire was going over towards some barrels of petrol... which, if it meant what Joey thought it meant... he dived into the nearest side tunnel, just in time to avoid a massive fireball.
'Well,' Joey thought, 'if I didn't kill Blaine, that did. Looks like without their leader, this group of werewolves is pretty much finished.'
'All except one,' he reminded himself. He tilted the liquid back, and swallowed it, every single drop down to the very dregs. Gah, was it terrible! It burned in his throat like the strongest acid, and tasted worse. But if he had learned anything about medicine as a child, that meant it had to be working.
Joey sighed to himself as he got on his bike, still bleeding. He could use a good long stay at hospital right now... a good long stay at hospital... or at least a nice long stay in his warm, comfortable bed.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Welcome to the final issue of Union Jack. This issue ends our three-issue run, but the threads introduced here will continue in our companion title, Black Knight. There, you'll see the results of Spitfire's search for her son... the next stage in Joey and Romany's relationship... and the return of the Knights of Pendragon. Perhaps in the future we'll get back together for another Union Jack limited, if interest warrants.
Special thanks are given to Seth Richards, who gamely stepped into the breach when personal problems caused me to miss my deadline on this issue. Seth did a bang-up job finishing off my plot.
I'd also like to thank everyone who supported this series, and I hope to see you in the pages of Black Knight.
Thanks,
Barry Reese