The Tiger's Den

Captain James Sphinx, leader of Misfit Squadron, stared out across the neon lined street, where trolley cars and autos plied the streets, the buildings all had a distinctive European design. If the young pilot didn’t know any better he’d have sworn he was in Europe. The distant hum of a jazz band seeped from the open windows of a nearby club, mingling with the scent of street food—garlicky dumplings, fried skewers, and an undercurrent of opium smoke that whispered of darker dealings.

This was Shanghai, where East and West blended together.   

Some called it the Paris of the East, but to him it was a hunting ground. Usually he did his hunting in the skies: dogfighting the pirate gangs or whoever else was unfortunate enough to be in his sights. This time, however, he was hunting a much more elusive foe. 

The young, brown-haired man leaned against the railing of the balcony of his hotelroom, absentmindedly resting a hand on the butt of his M1911. 

They were out there somewhere. 

A posh English voice breaks through Sphinx’s thoughts. 

“Remind me again what we’re doing here?” Webster asked. 

“We’re looking for The Tiger,” Sphinx replied, his voice steady.

“Right, the mythical crimelord no one’s ever met,” Webster said, his tone both amused and exasperated.

“And if we find them, we find Yao.”

“Dragon, Tiger. It’s always dragons or tigers over here,” Tex drawled. The big Texan, broad-shouldered and blonde, was polishing the barrel of his Colt Single Action, while slouching in one of the balcony chairs. The captain was quite the contrast to the refined Englishman and the large Texan being both young, with a boyish face and tall, lanky build. 

Sphinx allowed himself a small smile. “Dragons and tigers are revered in these parts. Symbols of power and balance.”

“Balance,” Tex snorted. “Seems pretty unbalanced to me. The Dragon’s out there stealing from the skies and The Tiger’s hiding in plain sight, raking in the profits.”

“We’ll find them,” Sphinx said. His voice was quiet, but there was a hawkish intensity in his green eyes that brooked no argument.

“So we find someone that knows where this smuggler king is, so we can then find an airpirate we’re hunting. Does that cover it?” Tex asked. 

“It’s real ‘Sax Rohmer’ stuff, I know,” Sphinx replied.

Webster chuckled. “I already know who we’re seeking. Dr. Fu Manchu.”

“Seems we’re better off just trying to hunt Yao out there in the skies than prowling around here,” Tex grunted. “This is a person that doesn’t want to be found.” 

Sphinx nodded. “It’s a tall order. Shanghai is a den of illegal activities and corrupt officials, but if we find The Tiger... we will do more than just get a lead on Yao.”   

Webster tugged at his cufflinks and raised an eyebrow. “Do we have an actual plan?”

Sphinx pushed off the railing and began pacing. “We find someone who can give us a way in. The Tiger runs a smuggling operation: guns, narcotics, and probably a few artifacts. There’s bound to be someone on the ground who knows enough to get us closer.”

“Ah, yes,” Webster replied dryly, “and I suppose all we have to do is stroll into the nearest club and ask for an audience with Shanghai’s most elusive criminal.”

“Not quite,” Sphinx grinned. “But that’s not a bad idea.”

Tex frowned. “You serious, Cap?”

“Why not? Clubs are where the deals go down in this city. Anything of importance happens in those clubs. If The Tiger’s got people working for them, we’ll find them somewhere like The Red Phoenix.”

Webster straightened. “The Red Phoenix? Isn’t that…”

“...One of the biggest nightclubs in Shanghai,” Sphinx said, already moving toward the door. “Also rumored to be a front for smuggling. We can’t waste time waiting for The Tiger to come to us: We’ll draw them out.”

“Can I wear one of my cowboy hats this time?” Tex asked. 

Sphinx smirked.

Webster stood up. “I’ll just pop on down to the aerodrome and let Tomas know we’ll be a bit before we relieve him.” 

“Good,” Sphinx said. “Make sure our gunner is alright. Take him some refreshments from the lobby.”

“Right, right,” Webster grunted. “I’m on it.”

The Red Phoenix was everything Sphinx had imagined an opulent den of decadence and intrigue. The club’s entrance was framed by gilded dragon sculptures, and a line of well-dressed patrons stretched down the block, waiting to get in. Inside, cigarette smoke curled lazily beneath a domed ceiling painted with a mural of phoenixes in flight. A jazz band on the stage played a sultry tune, while dancers in shimmering cheongsams wove between tables where Shanghai’s elite gambled and caroused. 

True to his word, Tex wore a stetson. “Man, and they said the West was wild.” his eyes regarded a poker game being played. “Think they’d cut me in, someone might know something.” 

Sphinx sighed. “With our luck it’ll be a fixed game and we end up in debt.” 

Looking around the club they found all manner of eye raising events, envelopes being exchanged between hands, officious-looking people being led off to private rooms by giggling attendants. 

“This is like trying to find a needle in a bucket full of needles,” Webster stated. 

Sphinx’s eyes settled on a large man in a white suit as he shook hands with a warm visage and directed servers with a steely look. 

“There’s the man to see,” Sphinx pointed. “He’s definitely the club manager, if anyone can get us in with The Tiger, he can.” 

“What’s the cover story?” Tex asked. 

Sphinx shrugged. “The usual: we’re mercenaries wanting to offer our skills.” 

“So, the truth then?” Webster stated. 

Sphinx chuckled. “Except without morals.”  

“Careful, Cap. We can get our foot stuck in a sinkhole maintaining cover.” 

The young pilot slicked back his hair as he made his approach, Webster and Tex trailing behind him. As they moved, Sphinx noticed a girl with a cigarette tray, much like the other servers in the place: A pretty Chinese woman with dark hair pinned up in the traditional style and wearing a cheongsam, but there was something in the glint of her eyes as she watched them. 

This was one that did more than keep their head down and serve the clientele. This one observed and remembered what she saw. She might be a useful lead in case the club manager told them to take a hike.  

Fierce-looking bodyguards stood by the club manager as Sphinx and his cohorts approached one held a hand and shouted in Mandarin for them to halt. Sphinx only knew enough phrases to get by, but he got the gist of the words. But the bodyguard's eyes flicked to something beyond the trio of pilots and his eyes widened in alarm as he shouted and reached for something. Sphinx turned and shouted for his Misfits to scatter. 

Four men had barged into the club armed with MP18s. The Misfits rolled aside as the gunmen opened up. Screams filled the air and patrons tried to run but were cut down by the hail of bullets. 

Tex unholstered his revolver, his jaw tight as he and Webster took cover behind an overturned table.

A few patrons produced guns of their own and the air crackled with gunshots, but the gunmen quickly overwhelmed any resistance with a hail of automatic fire. The bodyguards fell and the club manager ran for cover, bullets tearing up the floor and furniture after him. It was clear he was the target.

Sphinx was already moving as he saw the cigarette girl from earlier. 

"Get down!" he shouted, tackling her as a few rounds whizzed overhead to impact the bottles of liquor behind the bar.

She let out a gasp as he collided with her and sent both of them rolling on the floor, a few errant shots hitting the wall behind them.

Sphinx twisted and turned with her to shield her. He felt her hand tighten on his jacket.

The club owner fell over dead, his luck having run out as he was riddled with 9mm rounds. The four men swiftly swapped targets to anyone who seemed important.

Sphinx looked down at her and saw how wide her brown eyes were with fear. She was very close to him, so much so that he could almost count the freckles that adorned her face. She smelled of perfume, and it was almost enough to make him lose his senses. Now that he was closer he could see she was older than she first appeared, but still quite lovely.  

"Stay down," he grunted as he had his M1911 up and ready, he fired two rounds and struck a gunman in the throat, before the shooter could squeeze off another burst. The remaining three attackers turned towards Sphinx as the young pilot moved like lightning to the left, the rounds impacting the wall as he unloaded. Webster and Tex took the opportunity to strike, Webster had a Webley revolver up and squeezed the trigger, hitting another attacker. Tex also put his revolver to use and managed to wound one of the other gunmen in the arm: the attacker grunted and fell but got off a burst of his own as Tex cursed and rolled aside as the table exploded under fire.

A bodyguard with a Tommy Gun shouted. He ran forward, crouched and unloaded his Tommy Gun taking the final gunmen down. At last a calm returned to the club, Sphinx's ears were ringing. He stood in the surrealness of a club that was once bustling with music and merrymaking now only filled with sobs and moans. 

The cigarette girl, looking quite dazed, slowly rose to her feet. She held up a finger.

"Xièxiè. I mean, thanks." she said in accented English, then nodded to him as she pulled a cigarette out and put it between her lips and fished out a match. 

"I don't indulge often, but this calls for it. That was a brave thing you did, and you were quick on your feet."

She struck the match and lit up. "Name's Mai,” she said. “Nice to meet you."

Sphinx could only stare and wonder. She held a hand out to him and he took it. 

"Captain James Sphinx, pilot."

Her eyes lit up at that. 

"A pilot you say? How fascinating." 

Sphinx gestured to Webster and Tex. "These are my wingmen.” Tex tipped his hat to her, while Webster nodded to her as well.

Mai chuckled. "What brings you to Shanghai?" 

"Looking for work," Sphinx grunted.

"Aren't we all? Look at me selling cigarettes. You had best get out of here." 

The trio nodded and left the grisly scene of the Phoenix Club behind. They took a trolley and headed for the aerodrome to check on Tomas through the seas of neon lights. 

When they got there they found their lone gunner Tomas standing guard dutifully over their biplanes, two Curtis P6 Hawks, and one Bristol F2B, with a puzzled look on his face. Sphinx was first to greet him.

"What's going on, Tomas?" 

The gunner handed Sphinx a small paper card with a hand painted tiger upon it. In a flowing, even hand was a message. 

I thank you for your swift action at one of my establishments. A little bird told me you're looking for work. Down the river is a band of river raiders who have been harrassing my shipping, and shot up my club. Eliminate them, and I might be in touch. 

Speak to Jun at the third hangar, tell him you “need claws.” He'll know what to do next. 

- A friend

“Looks like we got their attention alright.” Sphinx whistled. 

“What do you think of this job offer?” Webster inquired. 

Sphinx shrugged, “I can’t see much harm in getting rid of people like that and it gives us an in.” 

“Welp,” Tex grunted. “Looks like we got an audition to make.”

The following day all three pilots were airborne, Sphinx and Tex in the single cockpit Hawks while Webster and Tomas were in the Bristol. Down below, the river twisted through bamboo forests like a dancer’s ribbon. Webster’s plane had been outfitted with a pair of bombs - the ‘claws’ the card had mentioned.

They had been provided with rough coordinates to where their target was likely to be, so far they had found no base or boat that could be a pirate. Sphinx gazed at the fuel gauge. He hoped they’d find their target soon, or they’d be forced to turn back, or risk crash landing below.   

Sphinx scanned the ground below with his binoculars when he heard Tex’s voice on the radio. 

“Eight O’clock low.”

Sphinx gazed down and spotted a squat, flat-bottomed vessel hugging the riverbank, partially camouflaged by the dense bamboo forests. It was an unmistakable shachuan—a type of Chinese river junk often used for transporting goods. This one was larger than most, with its deck reinforced and modified to carry weaponry. The telltale glint of metal along its rails suggested mounted machine guns or cannons.

“Got eyes on them,” Sphinx replied over the radio. He adjusted his altitude to get a better look, his binoculars revealing the vessel’s crew—a motley band of river pirates armed to the teeth. Several crates were stacked along the deck, no doubt filled with stolen goods.

Webster’s voice crackled over the headset. “Claws are ready. Just give the word.”

“Not yet,” Sphinx ordered. “Let’s see if we can draw them out into the open. Tight quarters along the bank; too many trees for a clean run.”

Tex chimed in, “I can make a pass, kick up some trouble.”

“Go for it,” Sphinx said.

Tex’s Hawk dipped low, its engine roaring as he strafed the riverboat, his machine guns spitting bullets into the water just ahead of the vessel’s bow. The pirates scrambled like ants, some diving for cover while others returned fire with old rifles. Bullets fell among the deck of the boat, some even hit a few pirates who were scythed down in a plume of red.

“They’ve got bite!” Tex noted, banking away from the rising plume of gunfire.

The pirates began to move their junk away from the shore, powering it with a combination of diesel engines and large bamboo poles wielded by deckhands. Once clear of the tree cover, they fired up a mounted cannon, aiming clumsily at Tex’s retreating plane.

“Looks like they’re coming out to play,” Webster observed.

“Get set up for your run, Webster. I’ll give them something else to think about.” 

Sphinx dove the plane the engine whining as the wind whipped at his face, he lined his gunsight up with the pirate craft and squeezed the trigger, twin guns spitting rounds that slammed into the river craft. More crew fell, and Sphinx banked away as the autocanon and a few machineguns returned fire. 

“All right, Webster. Give em the claws.”

The Bristol swooped low, Tomas leaning out of the side with a hand on the release mechanism for their bombs. Webster steadied the plane as they passed over the river junk, their first bomb dropping with precision and exploding just off the vessel’s stern. The shockwave rocked the boat, sending pirates sprawling and crates tumbling into the river.

“Direct hit!” Tomas shouted.

The second bomb followed, this one slamming into the deck itself, tearing a jagged hole through the reinforced planks. Flames erupted as fuel and munitions stored onboard ignited, sending up a column of black smoke. 

Sphinx and Tex circled back to mop up any resistance. Machine gun fire from the Hawks and the Bristol raked the surviving pirates, scattering them as the junk listed to one side, its hull taking on water.

“Target neutralized,” Sphinx confirmed. “Let’s head back before we run out of fuel.”

“Drinks on me tonight,” Tex declared over the radio.

“Don’t forget your wallet again, old chap,” Webster radioed back.

Sphinx smirked, though his eyes remained fixed on the horizon. This was only the beginning, and he had a feeling things were about to get a lot more complicated.

He was proven right. 

After they’d landed another mysterious note - now with just an address - was left for them. The trio soon found themselves on the docks in an even shadier part of the city. 

A burly guard with a rifle in hand and a dao in his belt leered at them as they approached. Sphinx flashed the card and the guard merely nodded and stepped aside. 

“Jus’ you,”  he grunted at Sphinx. “No weapon.”

Nodding, the young pilot handed his pistols and knife off to Text and Webster beofre moving through the doors, past crates of weapons. Till he found himself in an office. 

“We meet again.” the cheerful voice of Mai said as she entered from another door. She was dressed in a more formal dress.

Sphinx stood up, “Mai. You passed my name along to the Tiger then?”

She smiled, a smile that seemed almost feline. 

“Honey. I am The Tiger. Welcome to my den.” 

Sphinx blinked. “Aw, hell.”