It’s summer in Bethlem, Pennsylvania, and the heat lingers over the town like a fever, seeping into the streets and alleyways of the rust belt metropolis. Nights like this, even the rivers seems restless, swirling and changing under the rust-colored sky. The sun has finally gone down and the entire city tries to breathe a sigh of relief as the dark envelops them. The sounds of steel and chemical manufacturing slowly ebb away with the daylight hours, the factories in the North West barrens outside town empty of their workers even as their blood-colored smoke drifts skyward.
East Bethlem hums with fans and air conditioners from the towering high-rises and penthouses of the financial district, while further to the street hot jazz and cold neon fill the streets of the Chamberlain docks. Across the river, on the North Bank where the Washington forks into Northward, the city heaves against the heat without such luxuries. Hydrants burst, people sweat, and the only neon comes from the bright crosses of Mission Row. Further North, just outside the city proper, is Parkland- once its own small town now swallowed up into the greedy giant that is the greater Bethlem metropolitan area.
They first built Parkland around the Red Wing Garden and Aviary in the center of the town, but then the factories moved in and by the time 1939 rolled around the rich had moved to the south to Four Towers and Sommerset and Parkland had become Bethlem’s own ghetto. The Red Wing Garden was now just a forest in the middle of the city, surrounded on all sides by crumbling tenements and apartments. Places like the Williamstown Arms, where Greg Wolfman tries desperately to get a little sleep. It’s not the heat that keeps Greg awake- it’s the visions.
It’s been a month since she first appeared to him, first made herself and the truth known: Columbia, the living Goddess of America. She’d appeared right there in Greg’s one-room apartment amid the leaks and the roaches and the sticky heat and all, glowing a radiant red, white, and blue. She told him that he was to be her champion, that in every generation one must be chosen until the long midnight in America was over and that dawn was still nowhere in sight. Greg didn’t know whether he was going insane or it had all been real, just that the next morning he found a costume, his “vestments,” lying at the foot of his bed.
Since then he’d worn them a few times, he’d seen the newsreels and read the papers about the folks in New Athens and Sharona- Mystery Men in colorful costumes righting wrongs and protecting the helpless: was that what Columbia wanted him to become? If there was a Columbia at all, that is. One thing was for certain, Greg wasn’t going to get any sleep, either way, might as well make the best of the night. His costume was mostly blue, with red boots and hood, the shirt was made of chainmail and short sleeved, and it came with gauntlets that turned into knuckles made from Bethlem Steel. As he put them on he could the voice of Columbia whispering in his ear again “to the West, that is where you are needed, my American Knight.”
Climbing the fire escape outside his window up to the roof, American Knight gazed to the West, towards the only place in Bethlem where the river was close enough together to build a crossing: The Narrows. The Narrows was dark, its industry having migrated out to the Barrens a few years back, leaving behind a red light district, most of the city’s slums, and a series of abandoned factories that sat squat upon the riverfront. However, right where the river widened and the Narrows gave way to the North Bank there was still light- the glittering lights of corporate labs and headquarters, their neon logos dotting the skyline as it scraped starward and definitively ended the Narrows. That had to be where he was meant to go, but where? Pulling a pair of binoculars from his belt he scanned the brick and concrete complexes looking for any sign of something amiss- he found it in the Spade Chemicals Building, 13th Floor- it was awash in a strange green glow.
Without hesitation, Greg leaped from his rooftop to the neighboring one, the mortar of the aging building threatening to give beneath him before relenting to his weight. In all the times he’d bounded across the city roofs they’d never let him fall yet, it made him wonder if there really was someone looking out for him. Racing across the Bethlem skyline, he made his way to the edge of the park- that’s where the train station was. The elevated train was the pride of Bethlem, a series of different colored lines that were the only way to navigate the city as a whole thanks to the forking river splitting it into three sections.
Greg could see the Yellow Line to the Narrows preparing for its 11PM departure, filling up with skeleton crews for the corporate high rises and the occasional night shift steelworker. The train was already beginning to move by the time Greg reached it, landing on the roof of the Parkland police precinct- a long flat building that ran parallel to the tracks. As the bright lights atop the station silhouetted him against the giant police badge on the side of the building, American Knight hurled himself from the roof towards the train below.
He landed hard, but safe, his hands grabbing at the rough steel of the top of the train car. He pulled himself to a kneeling position, scanning the skyscrapers for the Spade Chemicals building once more- it wasn’t hard to spot, the green glow from floor 13 had grown even stronger: a bright oasis of unnatural light in the darkness. Quickly, his mind turned to ways to get into the building- security tended to frown on masked men just bursting in wherever they pleased even if they did wear the flag. The Yellow Line turned a curve around Pickett’s Hill, bending towards the center of the Narrows, quickly drawing closer and closer to the building when Greg spotted the nearby construction site- that was his way in. The Yellow Line was still on the curve, the only time he could risk leaping from the train as it slowed down to make its arc, spying a nearby billboard jutting from a nearby building. Seizing the opportunity, he leaped from the train, hands finding purchase on the light fixtures that illuminated the advertisement. Pulling himself atop it, he set out at full tilt for the vast steel skeleton of the construction site.
By the time he arrived at the site itself the glow on the 13th floor had turned into an unearthly glare, even brighter than the neon signs and logos of the surrounding buildings. Navigating the steel beams and thin wooden planks of the site, American Knight made his way to the side closest the Spade Chemicals building and the crane. He’d used similar machinery during his time as a steelworker so he knew how to drive the giant piece of construction machinery, pointing it directly at the 13th floor and turning its long neck into a bridge. With as sure footing and fast a pace as he dared muster, he set off down the crane, headed right for the eerie green glow, speeding up as he approached the building and in one fluid motion leaping through the glass window of the 13th floor.
The floor was a vast open laboratory floor, with strange vials and electrical machinery covering the walls and countertops. In the center of the room stood a gang of five men in suits, faces covered with handkerchief masks, and a scientist in a white lab coat- his eyes covered by goggles. Luckily for American Knight, the machinery around them was emitting a powerful hum that covered the sound of his entry and the entire gang of men was concentrated on the scientist’s actions as he manipulated a strange liquid that emitted the green glow. Greg ducked behind a large piece of machinery that didn’t seem to be on, peering around it he saw the scientist hold up a glass dish with something scurrying inside of it. He dripped a few drops of the green liquid onto the dish then gestured to the men to get back. In an instant, the counter began to shake as the glass container shattered and a dark shape grew and grew.
By the time it was done the thing was the size of a large dog. Looking closer, American Knight could see from the glow the thing was a giant cockroach. The scientist smiled with triumph before fitting a leash to the giant insect and handing it to his companions. With the flick of a switch, the humming subsided and the green light faded away to a soft glow from the vials of green liquid held by the scientist. Without the humming American Knight could make out their conversation “So I guess this stuff really works huh Doc?” “Indeed, Herr Tausen will be pleased” Knight recognized the stiff practiced English as a German accent. As the scientist packed the green liquid into a secure case Greg peered closer through the gloom and could make out an insignia on the side of it: a swastika, these men were Nazis.
At that moment, the American Knight decided he had to intervene. He had seen the newsreels and read the reports of what these men were doing in Europe and knew whatever their purpose here was it must be sinister. Springing forth from his hiding place he slammed full tilt into the biggest of the goons, knocking him into the banks of machinery. Sparks flew everywhere as the man slammed backward, briefly illuminating the gloomy laboratory now that the glowing fluid had been stored away. He could hear the scientist shouting in German as the other men moved around him. Trusting in his ears, American Knight lunged to his left, his steel-clad fist striking hard in the stomach of one of the remain men. Without a second to spare he grabbed the man by the collar, hurling him as hard as he could toward the spot where the scientist had been. There was the sound of shattering glass followed by the return of that same eerie glow as the green liquid splattered across the room.
In the new light, Greg could see there were three thugs left, while their scientist friend was making his way for the exit. The closest crook had already pulled a handgun from his jacket and was taking aim at Greg. With lightning reflexes Greg pulled his gauntlets together in front of himself, the bullets ricocheting off their hardened steel. One went wide and hit the man in the arm, he screamed and dropped the handgun just in time for American Knight to plow right into him- knocking him square into his companions. As the three men struggle to stand up, Greg charged across the room to the elevator, the scientist desperately pushing the button to try and summon it faster.
Knight slammed into him, holding him up against the elevator doors with both hands; in his deepest voice, he snarled, “Alright Kraut, I want answers! What’s in the case? What’re you planning?” The scientist wriggled in Knight’s grasp, sweat dripping down his goggles only for his look of panic to twist into a grin “What are we planning? Your doom, Amerikaner.” Suddenly, a powerful force slammed into the back of Knight’s legs, bringing him to his knees. He could feel powerful cartilaginous legs scraping against the chain mail of his back and heard a terrible chittering from behind him- it was the giant cockroach, loose from its leash and set to protect its master. Greg rolled, trying to wrestle the creature from off his back as its mandibles dug into the metal of his uniform. The elevator door opened casting a beam of pale light on the scene as the scientist fled. The two remaining goons had gotten to their feet and looked pointedly at their employer “See to it neither of them survives” said the scientist as the doors closed.
Hearing the two men approach, their guns drawn and cocked, America Knight summoned up all his strength, rising first to his knees then all the way to a stand, his back and the giant cockroach towards the men. The thing was enraged, biting at him with all its might and he could feel the mail in his shirt starting to give. With only moments before it gave way completely, he leaped back into the two men, slamming hard against the left one. The cockroach began to shriek in confusion, twisting to focus its anger on the crook. As soon as it released its clamp on Knight’s back he was turned around, steel gauntlets pressed against bug and men shoving them both hard towards the opposing wall- shoving and shoving till, with a shattering crash of the window, both of them exited the building down the 13 stories to the pavement below, landing with a wet gruesome thud.
The last of the crew stood alone among his fallen comrades as American Knight turned back to face him. Faced with a savage beatdown of his own or compliance the man elected to throw his gun to the floor and put his hands in the air. Approaching him slowly, Knight spoke, “The doctor…where is he headed?” The man pulled down his mask to speak more clearly “Across the river, he’s meeting his boss at the old abandoned Twin Stallions Steel Mill” “His boss, who’s that?” “I don’t know, another Kraut like him, they call him Centipede, it’s all I know I swear” American Knight closed in on him, pulling handcuffs from his belt and chaining the man to a nearby countertop “for your sake, it better be” he said before ducking out the window back onto his makeshift bridge.
Within 30 minutes Greg was back atop the Yellow Line headed across the Washington River, the water shifting bellow him choppy and angry. The South Bank of the Narrows was darker than its north side, the vast black shape of Mount Olivia blotting out the stars surrounding it. Even through the midnight gloom American Knight could make out the Twin Stallions Steel Mill, abandoned since the explosion that had driven the city’s industry to the surrounding Barrens. The giant hole in the side of the main building like a gaping wound still yawned into the night, the two wrought iron Stallions reared up in a whinny on either side of it. The Yellow line slowed to a stop at the station, directly above the mill. Leaping from the train onto the nearby rooftops, American Knight made his way down to the shattered factory below, slipping in through the broken wall.
American Knight crept along the upper scaffolding of the factory floor towards the sluice basin that poured into the river outside. He could hear voices coming from the foreman’s office below along with hints of that same green glow from Spade Chemicals. Crawling onto along the pipes above the office he could see down through the absent roof the scientist was meeting with an unknown figure in full Nazi SS regalia along with a handful of additional goons. They were speaking in a congratulatory tone and the man in the SS uniform was patting a glass box on a nearby desk with something inside. The vials of formula were on the opposing wall. Suddenly, the pipes underneath the American Knight gave way and he came crashing down into the office, landing on one of the men.
The remaining 3 surrounded him before he had a chance to get up, grabbing his arms. The lead German looked him over before turning to the scientist “So, this is the American who gave you trouble at the laboratory, eh Herr Doctor Web?” the scientist nodded “And you’re the Centipede” spit back Greg, the Nazi immediately startled by his statement. “So, our friend can talk eh? Bring him” The hired muscle dragged Greg down the stairs from the foreman’s office to the large pit in the middle of the factory floor. It opened directly into the sluiceway designed to allow any dangerous run off to bleed into the river and be carried to the sea. They held him at the edge, the Centipede taking his aim with his gun “It’s too bad you will not live to see the fruits of our labor” he said, as he set his glass case on the ground, the centipede within scurrying up the glass “When Dr. Web’s mutagen is applied to my pet it will grow to such a size that it will devastate this mockery of a city. Ah well,” he took aim at Knight’s head with his luger and fired…only for the pistol to produce the clicking of a jam.
In that moment of surprise, American Knight was up, shoulder checking his first captor and delivering a swift kick into the other. The Centipede quickly managed to un-jam his gauntlet and began firing, Knight shielded himself with his gauntlets and tucked behind the last crook who took the bulk of the fire. The man fell dead away onto the Knight, knocking them both into a pile of metal gears with a clang. The Centipede quickly snatched the vial of growth serum from Dr. Web and pulled his pet centipede from its case. “Your victory is fleeting American!” With only seconds before he combined the insect and the chemicals, American Knight grabbed a nearby gear and hurled it as hard he could into the Nazi.
The vial shattered covering man and centipede in the glowing mutagen- he screamed, a shriek that modulated and shifted as his body began to morph, the centipede in his hands liquefying and spreading through his veins as they fused into one being. The vertebrae of spine cracked and stretched as his body elongated, the skin of his arm turning to hard cartilage of an exoskeleton, his voice twisting into an insectoid chirp as a hard mandible burst from his cheek and his mouth began to stretch wider and wider. Freeing himself from the gears and dead man, American Knight rushed towards the hideous twisting thing in the tattered SS uniform, slamming it with both his gauntlets.
As he pushed against it he could feel the same strength as from the giant cockroach but multiplied by at least 10 when the scratching clawing legs of an insect began to burst from the man’s growing side. Summoning every ounce of strength left in him he pushed the creature as hard as he could towards the edge of the sluiceway. Looking up he could see the transformation was beginning to settle and the hideous human centipede thing was staring down at him with hateful eyes, drawing back its claw-like arm for one final finishing swipe when suddenly the ground beneath it began to crumble- the foundations of the sluiceway gave out underneath the weight of the thing and it tumbled down into the blackened abyss.
Glancing around the darkened steel mill Dr. Web had disappeared into the night during the struggle. That was alright, the American Knight would hunt him down another night, thought Greg as he made his way to the nearby emergency exit. Leaving the main building, he made his way to the edge of the property, right where the outer lot gave way to a sheer drop to the river. Dangling his legs over the side as he sat down, he took a moment to let the cool night air wash across his face, the sound of the rushing water fill his ears, the glittering neon and fluorescents of the city across the water filling up the night. Greg would like to think the Centipede was gone for good but with all the strange things filling up the world lately he doubted it, the US’s midnight wasn’t over yet and so the American Knight wasn’t going anywhere.
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