The speeding box car began to fill with crimson smoke. The waa door waa shouted a thin but commanding voice. When they waa come through waa plug ’em”. The man, oddly fat for someone of his short stature, and dressed in a foppish tuxedo, held a black enamel statue of a bird close to him. On the ground were two bodies. The first was a very large man in a white suit and the second was a mouse of a man with a terrified look on his face and bug eyes. They were both dead, and the object of their desires, the black statuette that had filled their lives with a relentless chase for fortune was now in the possesion of the man called The Penguin; Oswald Cobblepot.
Three thick-chested goons in cheap suits raised their Beretta 1938A instruments of death at the door. With a rate of fire of 600 rounds a minute, they could turn a man to ground beef in a matter of seconds. They each loaded a clip of 30 rounds. The crimsom smoke continued to fill the room.
The three men seemed uneasy. their eyes darted around the room and the smallest of the ogres tried to suppress a cough. The nose of his submachine gun drooped slightly as he cleared his throat. “Steady your aim waa, those Italian roscoes cost me plenty waa make sure they were worth the mazuma waa.”
Just then, the box car rocked and swayed as a savage blast tore through the forward end of the car. The portly man and his three henchmen where toppled to the floor of the box car. “Get ’em waa”ordered the odd little man as he raised his umbrella and blew open the ceiling hatch. A cable fired from the tip of the umbrella and he was lifted up and out to the roof of the box car.
The three goons regained their feet and began to raise their weapons; but they never got the chance to use them. Out of the smoke flew a small man in a black chauffeur outfit and goggles. With unbelievable deftness, his left foot lashed out and sent the first thug’s gun spinning through the air. The small man became a human tornado as he spun around and grabbed the barrel of the second gun and used it to knock away the third. and them slammed it into the gut of the first man doubling him over.
Then a tall lean figure of a man in a fedora and cape emerged from the crimson smoke. He wore a red domino mask and his features where strong and stern. He glanced at the two bodies on the floor. He recognized them as Kasper Gutman and Joel Cairo from their police files.”The stuff dreams are made of, eh Gutman? Wing, keep these gentlemen busy, I’ll see to Cobblepot.” The small man didn’t answer but simply gave a quick sharp nod of his head as he assumed a crouched position, his fingers drawn in to simulate the claws of a tiger.
The caped man took two bounding steps and jumped up on the back of the doubled over thug, propelling himself out through the box car hatch. He instantly had to steady himself as the rushing wind threatened to topple him from the car. the train was doing 60 mph easily and up ahead he saw the short portly man in the tuxedo struggling to make some distance between them.
“Cobblepot!” called the tall man. In the bright moonlight the crimson color of his cape and fedora where apparent. “There’s no way out, give up and bring me the falcon.”
“Never!, waa” responded the odd little man “this birds got wings” he held up the black statuette”And, waa, so do I” with that his umbrella flung open and he lifted into the night air.
The Crimson Avenger pulled his nickle plated Colt and closed his left eye as he squeezed the trigger twice. Twin missles of .45 calibre death raced towards the Penguin, and made contact with the shaft of his umbrella. The parasol snapped in two and the little fat man fell bak to Earth landing awkwardly on top of the box car. The black bird statue seemed fated to fall to the ground below when suddenenly Wing appeared from nowhere and made a sure handed catch. “They are tied up below”.he offered “Nice shot.” ” I wasn’t aiming for the umbrella” said The Avenger, dryly.
As the Crimson Avenger and Wing trussed up the Penguin in the boxcar below, the Avenger reached into his coat pocket to remove his calling card, a laminated note with the inscription “Qui Vindicet Ibit”, written in red. But instead, he found a small note reading; “You are invited to join the Circle. Details to follow.” The note was signed by someone named Burbank.
“What’s that?” asked Wing. “Not really sure”, responded the Avenger. “Come on, let’s get out of here before we reach the station.” Puzzled, the Avenger reached back into his pocket a drew forth a new calling card flicking it onto the sleeping body of the Penguin, and the two men darted out the side of the box car and into the night.