Once and Future King part 1

1973

The clay seal dated back to the Han Dynasty and was priceless, but when it shattered against the wall of the storage container, it was wiped from history completely. An armored fist swiped the remaining four cubic seals off the crate, shattering them in the process. “They’re forgeries!” the Triad leader roared. Like his namesake, Jade Cobra wore a green costume with jade plating, resembling the scales and hood of a cobra. His men positioned themselves around the warehouse, which was filled with ancient relics stolen from across Asia. “The seals are fake.” Jade Cobra stepped on the clay shards, crushing them as he continued to vent his anger. “After all we went through to get these, they’re imitations!”

Just then, a glass window shattered, and a figure wearing silver armor dropped through, tackling two of his men to the floor in the process. The Silver Age Cavalier, Hank Hawkwood, rose to his feet with a shield and electric javelin in his hands. “You should’ve given up when you were ahead, Cobra,” he said proudly. “You’ll never find the seals.” Jade Cobra pulled a large jade war sword from the sheath on his back and pointed it at the knight. “Kill him!”

The Triads drew swords and rushed across the warehouse, the Cavalier bravely meeting his opponents.

Present Day…

“Now that introductions are outta the way, I’d like to start us off with a little history, if you don’t mind. History’s important to our people. We’re one of the oldest civilizations on Earth. The Chinese began immigrating to this continent as early as the 1780s, just after the U.S. became a country. Didja know that? I know you’re all aware of the building of American railroads a century later, and how they had our people working in unsafe conditions for little pay. We’ve never had it easy in America, but unlike certain people, we don’t whine about it constantly. We get strong, and we make sure to get our bag. Anyway, around this period, Chinatown was established in New York. We carved out our own little neighborhood, set up businesses, and took care of our own. In the early 20th century, the Irish and Italian mobs tried to move in, and that’s where we came in. Not ‘we’ as in the Chinese—‘we’ as in the Triads. We kicked their white asses back to Little Italy and Woodlawn Heights. Then, when our enemies were out of the way, we gave back to the community. While some locals didn’t like our brothels, casinos, or opium dens, it created enough revenue to get the cops off our backs. Things were good for a while, and in the ’70s, we had Jade Cobra leading the Triads in the city, which, of course, got the attention of the Cavalier at the time. But here’s where it gets sad … Jade Cobra died because he got double-crossed by some kid named Paul. Paul would go on to form the Metro Knights, and somehow, a group of plucky softies teaching ghetto kids how to read became our primary enemy in this city! We stopped getting respect, and business went down the shitter for decades. That was bad enough, but then one day, some dick on a motorcycle tosses a grenade through a window and takes out all the New York leaders! Christ, it’s no wonder I was asked to come clean up this mess. It’s embarrassing. Anyway, you can call me Wuxing, and I’m taking over the New York Triads effective immediately.”

An older man stood to his feet. “How dare you! I worked with the leaders in this city for 30 years. Their fathers and grandfathers built this neighborhood from nothing, and you come in here to disrespect it? Who the hell do you think you are?”

The young man stood in a private room in a restaurant on Pell Street. He wore a black suit and tie with a red button-down shirt and shades, despite being indoors at night. In front of him, several older men sat around a table, with larger men standing guard at the entrances.

“I’m not disrespecting Triad leadership,” Wuxing explained in Mandarin. “I’m just stating a fact. The mainland leaders agreed to send me to New York to reestablish some dominance. As to who the hell I am, I’ll tell you—I’m a guy who can trace his ancestry all the way back to the Boxer Rebellion. My uncle was running things in Kowloon up until the day they tore it down. As for my father, he pretty much owns every cop in Beijing. There’s a reason I was sent here, so maybe it’s you who needs to show some respect.”

“You’re just a punk.” The old man stepped forward, and when his peers reached out to pull him back, he confidently slapped their hands away. “Think I haven’t dealt with little shits like you before?”

The man reached into his blazer with intent. The larger men stationed around the room remained still, as if they had been given prior orders not to interfere if such a situation arose. Wuxing stood patiently, watching the older man pull a gun and take aim.

“In Hell, I hope your ancestors teach you some manners!” the old man roared.

Wuxing briefly took a Liu He Ba Fa stance, and the Chinese elemental symbol for water appeared in front of him in a faint blue light. A trigger was pulled, and a bullet cut through the air too quickly to see. The young man moved with fluid precision. He twisted, bringing his hands together as if catching something, then spun in the opposite direction. When he opened his palm, something flew out.

The bullet was thrown back across the room at the same velocity and tore through the side of the older man’s neck. Blood sprayed from a major artery, and the old man dropped his gun before collapsing and bleeding out.

The room fell silent as Wuxing straightened his blazer.

“And that’s why I’m here… any questions?”

Days later, Wuxing made his way down narrow steps to a basement area, with several men following. When he reached the bottom, he surveyed a room filled with old blackjack tables, a roulette wheel, and a few slot machines that were no longer in use.

The only sign of life: a group of older people playing mahjong around a table, with a bored attendant watching. The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air, thick enough to feel like a blanket.

“Oh, what is this?” Wuxing muttered in disappointment. “I mean… what is all this?”

He stepped into the center of the room and spread his arms as he turned in a slow circle.

“Growing up, I heard wild stories about Triad casinos in New York. They brought in so much revenue. We literally had hookers and blackjack… and this is all that’s left?”

Mr. Fong, the Triads’ chief consigliere, followed him down the stairs. “Underground casinos just aren’t profitable anymore. There are resorts in Queens and the Bronx that take away our business. And that’s before we get into online casinos. Our older clientele come here out of tradition.”

Wuxing shrugged. “So we give people a reason to come back.”

“How?” Mr. Fong asked.

“Women.”

“The police cracked down on our prostitution rings years ago.”

“The girls don’t have to touch clients to make us money. We get some young ladies serving free drinks—we’ll have more than enough suckers choosing to come here rather than some expensive resort. On paper, they’ll work for our legit businesses. Problem solved.”

“Where can we find the girls?”

“Leave that to me. In the meantime, we need to funnel some cash into this place. Redecorate. Get some new tables. Make it look licensed so no one snoops too much.”

“That would cost quite a bit. We, uh…” Mr. Fong trailed off in embarrassment.

Wuxing sighed, “We still have the means to launder money, don’t we?”

The next day, Wuxing traveled to a loan company in a run-down strip mall. When he entered the small office, he was greeted by a portly man in a polo shirt, surrounded by more men.

“Mr. Spicolli?” Wuxing removed his red sunglasses. “Thanks for taking the time to meet us.”

“Us?” Spicolli craned his neck to peek behind him. “Looks like it’s just you.”

“I’m here on behalf of the New York Triads. I’m sure you know who I am.”

“Yeah, your boys said they got someone new to take care of things after the whole Horseman business. What can I do for ya?”

“I understand you bought some of our loan companies a few years back.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, lighting a cigar. “If you’re looking to buy ‘em back, forget it.”

“Oh, I understand it’s been lucrative for your organization. The former management sold the business to the mob because they needed the cash. We’re reconstructing right now, and we’d like to buy it back from you.”

“You heard what I said, right? No sale. Your money problems are your money problems.”

Wuxing appeared vexed but continued politely, “We’ll triple what you paid for it. Obviously, you can finish up whatever outstanding accounts you have, and maybe we’ll move in next month. Sound good?”

“I thought the Triads were trying to make a comeback. They send you to fix everything?” Spicolli laughed. “They’ve got to get somebody who knows how to do business.”

Wuxing grew impatient. “What else can I offer? A free plate of gabagool? I’m being generous here.”

“The Triads got nothing in this city,” Spicolli sneered, put out his cigar, then turned to one of his men. “Get Jackie Chan outta here.”

A large man quickly approached. Wuxing took a Ma Bu stance, and the Chinese zodiac symbol for earth briefly appeared in the air, colored green. The large man paused for a moment, expecting an attack—none came. Wuxing remained still and placed both hands at his side; the mobster’s confidence returned, and he threw a punch. Wuxing remained still, taking the punch to the jaw without a flinch. The sound of crumpling paper was audible. Knuckles caved in and fingers curled unnaturally. The mob enforcer screamed in agony and stepped back to nurse his bloody and broken hand. Wuxing calmly replaced his sunglasses. “And for my next trick…”

He took another battle stance, and the symbol for wood flashed in gold light before dissipating. As the man clutched his wounded hand, Wuxing jabbed two fingers into his shoulder. Streams of golden light passed through the shoulder as if his nerves had become luminescent. They nearly took the forms of tree roots, finding their way through soil. Everyone watched with morbid curiosity until the streams convened at the man’s heart. There was a burst. The man lunged back and coughed up a fountain of blood before collapsing dead on the floor. Wide-eyed in fear, the mobsters froze, and no further action was taken.

“Seems diplomacy has failed today.” Wuxing straightened his blazer. “We’ll just go ahead and take this operation from you with no compensation. I’d advise you to fuck with me no longer.”

Across the city, a group of men in black suits entered a Chinese restaurant. The owner, a short elderly man, greeted them in Mandarin. “Do you have a reservation?”

“No, Mr. Liu,” one of the younger men answered. “Apparently, people in our company aren’t allowed.” Must be some mistake.”

The elderly man’s face fell. “We don’t serve Triads here.”

“We’re not here to eat,” he responded threateningly.

The old man scoffed, “Triads haven’t demanded ‘insurance’ from me in 40 years. I didn’t think you’d have the audacity to come back. In fact, aren’t your bosses dead?”

The man in the suit stooped low, coming within an inch of the old man’s face. “There’s been a change in management.”

Hours later, a stack of bills was dumped on top of an already large pile of money on a table. The room was dimly lit, and Triad enforcers stood waiting to receive their boss’s approval. Wuxing examined the money collected with a satisfied smirk. Mr. Fong began counting. “A decent haul for some quick cash.” Wuxing congratulated his men and turned to Mr. Fong. “What do ya think?”

“It’s a good start. It helps get us in the black,” Mr. Fong told him as he continued to count. “With the loan company under our management, we can put this toward the casino. It might still take some time to earn a substantial profit.”

“That’s where the ladies come in.”

The following night, Wuxing stood outside a refugee center with several of his men waiting alongside a row of black vans. “So we got the venue and we got the laundry system,” he told his men. “Next, we bring in the girls. Remember guys, we want adult ladies, but no one below 25. No one with a family, either. Makes things less complicated. Also, … no spoiling the merchandise.” He walked up to the large metal doors that had been locked from the inside. Again, he brought his hands together in a particular configuration and took a stance. The Chinese symbol for metal shimmered for a second, illuminated by silver light. He clenched a fist, pulled back, and released.

The force of the blow made the heavy door fold in half completely, and it was ripped off the hinges. The metal door falling on the tile floor made a thunderous sound that likely woke up every person in the dormitories. Wuxing’s men pulled black masks over their faces and rushed inside, using the confusion and fear to their advantage. Doors were flung open and screams echoed throughout the building. Any refugee men who tried to defend the ladies were quickly subdued with punches and kicks. Families were ignored. Young women were dragged from their rooms, with some having to be subdued as well.

Outside, Wuxing waited patiently while the first handful of refugee women were dragged into vans. Sirens began to approach, and Wuxing calmly turned his head toward the sound. “Faster than expected.” He slowly walked toward the approaching siren as his men continued to abduct women. He calmly brought his hands together in the fifth and final configuration. There was a red light, and the symbol for fire flashed across. Both hands ignited in flame without burning him or his clothes. He stepped out in the middle of the street, and in the distance, he could see the telltale signs: red and blue flashes along the faces of the buildings. The police squad car rounded the corner, tires screeching before it roared to his location. With hands aflame, he rushed forward, picking up speed until the right time to leap. As the car got closer, he somersaulted into the air, leaving two trails of flames that created a circle in his wake. When he brought a fist down, he smashed through the hood and into the engine.

The car went up in a fireball, washing the entire street in a pyre. The sound gave his men pause and made the women scream even more. As black smoke went up, Wuxing became visible—he remained in a crouched position in the middle of a whirlwind of flames, his hair and blazer flapping in the hot winds. Slowly, he rose to his feet and straightened his jacket. When he exited the flames, the fire wrapped around his hands went out, and he returned to his men. “That’s all the girls,” one of them said and closed the van doors. “Good,” he told them as he heard more sirens in the distance. “Let’s go.”

The next day, there was a town hall meeting concerning the recent spike in criminal activity. Daniel Slade, the newly appointed mayor, sat alongside the City Council as an Asian American citizen took the podium. “The Triads came back,” the citizen announced. “They’ve been all over our neighborhood, and now we hear that some women have gone missing. My dad said it was just like the 70s all over again.”

“We’re aware of the situation, unfortunately,” Slade told him, “and we’ve been working closely with Commissioner Reins to ascertain this situation.”

The citizen dropped his hands onto the podium. “Well, where the hell’s the Cavalier?”

City councilwoman Jackie Kamiya leaned toward her mic. “As far as we know, the Cavalier has been on a mission outside New York.”

“Then do something!” the man shouted. “All of you are former superheroes, so you’ve got to have some idea of what to do!”

Commissioner Reins had been in attendance and decided to stand up to address the angry citizen. “If it helps, we’re just as invested as you are. Two of my officers were killed last night, and it’s suspected that the Triads’ new leader was responsible.”

“They kidnapped women!” another citizen within the audience spoke up. “Refugee women! There’s human trafficking going on right now. I thought all this shit was behind us now that we’re rebuilding.”

“I assure you, the women will be returned,” Mayor Slade promised.

“I’ll ask again…” The man at the podium raised his voice. “Where the hell is the Cavalier?”

The double doors at the back of the meeting hall swung open with a slam. There was audible movement as the entire room turned in their seats to face the figure entering.

The Cavalier stepped inside, his cape trailing behind him.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

Continued…