The Scarlet Claw

THE SCARLET CLAW

Creator: John Zukaitis

Characters

Valentin Bishop

Rita Wallen (Assistant & Pilot)

Tom King (Reporter Herald Banner)

Allan Nicholson (Police Commissioner)

Kemal Unlusoy (Giant Turk chauffeur) 

Captain Nathan Harvey (Police)

Mark Karras (Police Detective)

Schrode (Police)

Jesse Starnes (District Attorney)

Mae Siddons (D.A. Secretary)

Carlo Passero (Mob Boss)

Enno Calderoni (Mob Hit Man)

Gary Sannicandro (Mobster)

Louie  Amaro (Mobster)

Mike Juliano (Mobster)

Frankie Miceli (Mobster)

Rube Glover (Mobster)

Robert Larkin (Mob Lawyer)

Horace Webb (Lawyer, not connect to Mob, but takes their orders)

Waldon Krodle (Night Manager,  Encantada Hotel, Mob Connection)

Mickey Strawn (Small time Druggie)

Linda Sieler (Mob Prostitute)

Don Benton (New York Mob Boss)

Steve DeFalco (Lesser Mob Boss)

The Secret Room: Val paused at the back wall. He pressed against the surface with his right hand, and a portion of the wall swung upward, revealing a small chamber beyond.

         An Armoire and a chest lined the wall to the left. A table and a large cabinet stood to the right. The far wall held a curious mural depicting a stylized crimson hand – a curiously inhuman hand, with seven digits. Around the image were inscribed symbols in a language that had been lost to history for tens of thousands of years.

         Val had left Endor City years previous and wandered the world; in the heartland of Asia he nearly died when outlaws attacked his party and he was badly wounded. His hand was cut off and he was left for dead. He discovered Agharta, the city of legend. There he was given the Scarlet Claw. With the Claw he must protect the innocent and punish the evil.

         He opened the armoire and removed a grey overcoat and hat. Reaching in again, he found an item of dark cloth, which he slipped into one of the coat pockets. At the chest, he dropped to one knee. Inserting a key, the lid popped up. In the chest was a remarkable item: A seven-fingered hand, larger than any human hand should be – scarlet in color. Valentin Bishop raised his left arm showing the scarred flesh where his hand had been severed. Raising the red hand to his left wrist tendrils of red flesh snaked out and attached to his wrist. In a moment the seven fingers began to move and flex.

         He took off his hat, removing the black cloth from his coat pocket then pulled it down across his head. A veil of ebony mystery shrouded his features now. Only his eyes were visible through the slots cut into the fabric of the mask. He put his hat back on and pulled it low to shade his face. He was the Scarlet Claw, the mysterious avenger who battled sinister forces of evil, to protect the weak and innocent of Endor City. The claw seemed to gleam with an evil ruby glow.

         Rita Wallen: She was already preparing the Cierva C 30. She was dressed in boots, whipcord pants, and a black leather jacket.

         Carlo Passero awoke, naked and tied. He was in a small room, but his gaze was fixed on the chamber beyond the glass partition – a chamber that appeared to be full to overflowing with crawling, writhing spiders.

         “Black widow spiders,” spoke The Scarlet Claw to his prisoner. “Their venom is 15 times more powerful than that of a rattlesnake, but they can only inject a small amount. Not enough to kill you with one bite. But thousands of bites as they crawl over your body can be a horrible death. I want your confession, or I will leave you alone to die in this room by their bites.” With that, he turned out the light and left the room. Carlo heard the glass partition sliding open, releasing the spiders. A few minutes later he felt tiny legs crawling over his naked body, and began screaming, “I’ll confess, just let me out of here!”

         A great new character pulp, but only one story that I know of:

The Scarlet Claw by John Zukaitis (June 2003) DOUBLE DANGER TALES #63

The Midnight Phantom

THE MIDNIGHT PHANTOM

Creator: Jemir Johnson

Characters

The Midnight Phantom

The meat locker: Yes, present was the standard line of skin blank animal carcasses hanging on either side that extended from the starting point to some ten yards north. But it was a figure who stood in the middle of that; six feet four in height and barrel-chested; who arrested their focus. He was clad in jet black from head to toe. Combat boots that reached a few inches above the ankles; trousers with a twill internal belt and a smug unrestricted fit for ease of movement; a lean turtleneck sweater tucked in around the waist; an unzipped leather jacket and stretched well below the small of his back and matching wrist length, gloves that fit like a second skin. Though what truly made the stealthily clad figure foreboding was a cloth mask that enveloped him from front to back. It had no head or facial openings and bestowed the impression not of staring at a masked man – but a shadow. Noticeable were waves of ashen frost swathing his outfit.  Indicating he’d stood there awaiting their arrival for some time. Yet no discomfort was shown.

The Pawn Shop: “Oh, I’m sorry.” Najee replied after standing passively in the doorway for a few seconds. It just struck her that this was the case. She walked in, let the door chime close behind her and approached the counter. “Hi.” She offered, as she reached it. “Are you Pop?” This was in part, referring to the store’s name: Pop’s Pawn Shop. Pop’s place was a one-story, brown bricked, dwelling located about fifteen blocks north from where she lived. The interior was modest and cozy if a bit cramped and dimly lit by the sun’s rays sliding through sandy windows. It was anchored by shelves on either side stocked with a potpourri of antiques and eccentric merchandise. In the five years it had been around, this was the first time she’d set foot inside.

The mystery man: “Pop?” The man behind the counter stated. He was well built with a bubble muscled upper body and chiseled arms. He also had a handsome face, light brown skin, short and wavy hair, and soft hazel eyes that appeared battle hardened upon close examination. “No. I’m not,” he said while placing a metal, shoe-boxed sized, chest on the counter top. There seemed to be a thick bandage wrapped around his left shoulder blade but his shirtsleeve made it hard to tell if that was so. “Is there something I can do for you?”

A hero in the black community, The Midnight Phantom didn’t use guns, but fought with his hands and feet, the use of martial arts and acrobatic movements that kept the enemy at bay. This story doesn’t introduce any of the main players in the background, just The Midnight Phantom, some victims, and the bad guys. In fact, the bad guys are called The Nice Guys and the Committee.If the stories had continued, I’m sure we would have met many regular players, but only one story ever appeared in the FADING SHADOWS magazines.

Midnight Phantom (June 2003) DOUBLE DANGER TALES #63.