Bing clicked back to the first video, the one of the man with the blank stare fiddling with a toy gun.
“He died in the eighties, thank God, but he never recovered. He couldn’t even feed himself.”
“But… what happened to him?”
Yordan blew out a sad breath. “He was Batman, the original comic book guy who was a pulp hero who used guns. Then Adam West became Batman. At that point, all the energy that had been feeding him went elsewhere. It gutted him. And there wasn’t enough left of him to prevent it.”
A cold chill rolled down Bing’s back as he stared at the empty shell of a man. Was that his future? If Walter became Red Wolf, would Bing suddenly turn into that? “I’ve only been Red Wolf for a short time.”
“Doesn’t seem to matter. Look, we told you that you’re special. You don’t have a werewolf gene, so you’re what we call an Icon Werewolf. There’s enough psychic energy around you that when we added that activation spell, you became Red Wolf.”
“But I’m still me,” he argued.
“You’re both. Red Wolf and Bing Wen Hao. But if you take one away, it’ll be like ripping out half your brain, leaving half of you behind.”
Bing shook his head, trying to deny Yordan’s words even though he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the vacant stare of the original Batman. “That won’t happen to me,” he said firmly.
The original Batman had probably said that too.
“Don’t risk it. Look, I get that you don’t want to stop the movie. We don’t think you should. But you have to play Red Wolf. You can’t let anybody else—”
“I understand,” he interrupted. And he did. “But I gave up my rights to the production. I disappeared for eight weeks because you guys kidnapped me!”
Yordan grunted. It was his “I’m uncomfortable” grunt. “We already apologized for that. You weren’t meant to activate.”
“But I did. And now I’m about to….” He couldn’t stop staring at the now-frozen image of out-to-lunch Batman.
Yordan exhaled. “How can we help?”
Possibilities ran through his mind, including shutting the production down because of some environmental toxin. But he couldn’t do that to Walter, not without trying to get things back under control. Besides, shutting it down meant that Grand Master Wu would get the insurance money, and Bing really hated the thought of letting that bastard win.
“Bing—”
“I’m working on it, but there’s been a complication.”
“Of course there has,” Yordan grumbled. “You’re in Wisconsin next to Lake Wacka Wacka. With all the mystical energy running around, I’m surprised you’re all not sporting fur. Or wings.”
Great. Now he had two more things to worry about.
“So what is it?” Yordan pressed.
“I think the lead actor who’s…”My best friend? My lover?How did he describe Walter? “…also the producer is possessed by the Monkey King. And his lead investor is Sand, one of Monkey’s sidekicks.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, then a big sigh. “I have no idea what that means.”
“It’s a Chinese fairy tale. His aunt talked about Pigsy—that’s sidekick number two—and she’s got supernatural strength.”
“That’s the problem with manifesting icons,” Yordan grumbled. “We need literature degrees to understand this shit. Why can’t it just be an old-fashioned ogre? Or a dragon? It’d be fun to fight a dragon.”
Only Yordan would think that, but there was no point in arguing. Clearly he had to keep the fan energy of Red Wolf aimed at him… or else. That meant he had to play the role in the movie.
Still, to Bing, the risk of gutting his brain was secondary to saving Walter. He had to convince Walter to kick out the spirit of the Monkey King or the god would ruin Walter’s life. They could deal with the movie and Red Wolf once Walter was safe.
With that in mind, he said goodbye to Yordan and went off in search of Walter.
He found the man storming out of the shower area with his aunt hot on his tail.
“I tell you,” she said, urgency in her tone, “he’s close. He might even be here now! You must listen to me!”
