Keystone City, 10:21:46 AM (Standard):

I can run fast.....Really fast. We're talking light speed and up here, and not just running. I can move, think, and talk at just about any rate my heart could desire. Maybe that's what has made me a hero so far. And you'd be surprised how easy that can make my job sometimes...

The streets and sidewalks of Keystone are crowded and busy much like their pedestrian inhabitants. It would be nearly impossible to count all the people that walk by from one spot for an entire day. There are men taking to these streets, and there are women, and with them are children, each as carefree as the next.

Her name is Katrina, and she has been exposed to this world for only months over five years. Brown, curly locks like sausage links decorate her ripe little head, hair that bounces along with her small steps as she holds her mother's hand. In the other hand, Katrina clings tightly to her ancient doll like a holy artifact like would never let go. But especially in the times of summer, the wind can be mischievous. The toy girl drops from her owner's desperate clutching, and in distress Katrina squeals and reaches to retrieve it, against the parental force guiding her...

There is a scarlet stream of light, if it can even be defined as that, like a long, translucent pane stretched across the air. Katrina jumps slightly in response, and suddenly sees her doll presented by a crimson, gloved hand.

"Drop something?" the running man asks Katrina, who nods uneasily as she stares into his masked face with innocent eyes. He holds his hand out further and offers her a comforting smile below his red cowl. "This is a nice dolly. Take good are of her, okay?" Once again, Katrina only nods when spoken to in this rushed speech. The running man takes her tiny hand gently and places the female doll in it before turning, winking, and pealing away, all in less than one second's time.

"Katrina? C'mon, Kat, let's go," her oblivious mother says, reiterating with the slight tug of her hand. Katrina obeys, and begins walking the streets of Keystone City once more. But she does not speak until they get home and perhaps afterwards.... Not because she is scared, though. Of course not. Katrina feels numb, and in her mother's words, "special."

She knows that a god protects the streets of her home...and she has been touched by him.

Cute kid...Not the first time I've pulled that sort of stunt, and still it gets them every time, even here, the birthplace of the red and yellow bolt of speed. I love to see kids react like that, and every time I do it I see a little Kid Flash in there being wowed by his Uncle Barry. It's a lot more amazing to see than to do, as far as I can gather.

I'm not complaining, of course. I'm never late, my metabolism's high...hey, I have a gorgeous girlfriend and plenty of friends to support me! Still, all of the good things play out like a slow-motion replay, which is bad enough...The bad things seem to go even slower.

Like I said before, this speed can make my job easy sometimes, and other times it can make it the hardest thing I've ever done each time I do it. Take, for instance, today. In approximately eight hours, seven minutes and eleven seconds, I have to beam up to the moon, the moon mind you, and sit there for hours with the likes of Superman, Batman...Wonder Woman...God forbid, right? Well that's not the worst of it.

It's an open night at the clubhouse, kiddies, and the JLA's hiring.

	The World's Greatest Superheroes..... "Through the Halls of Olympus"
JLA #1 - January, Year One	by Will Short

The Watchtower, 05:52:49 PM:

Twelve chairs around a cold, round table, intended for the noblest and most powerful beings, much like its medieval counterpart. The table's knights gather here, each equal and at no head or foot in their seat. Alas, this place is far from fallen Camelot, and the majority of these chairs are empty...for the moment.

The lonely room of steel and wire finds two visitors, sitting opposite each other on the wheel of heroes. There is a dark-haired young man whose ring provides for him a loud garb of black, white, and green that in some places might resemble armor. Across from him is a thicker figure, lightly dressed to expose his emerald hide and otherworldly might and a straight expression on his strangely detailed face.

The first sits uncomfortably in his assigned chair. He has fidgeted and shifted constantly since he arrived, which the second has noticed. That one leans over the table with his heavy bald head resting on two strong fists, protruding patience and wisdom.

Kyle Rayner, . J'onn J'onzz, the

In silence they sit and wait as they have for some short time. Changing positions again to lean backwards, Green Lantern sighs and targets his companion's face under his heavy brow.

"J'onn, this might just be me, but...it seems like us green guys are the first ones to get anywhere."

"The newest member and one of the oldest," says the Martian Manhunter, "Like bookends."

"Yeah..." The Lantern pauses. "It looks like the 'newest member' title is about to change though, huh?" He holds his fist close to his face, eyeing the ring as something besides the treasure that it is, more like a plaything.

"We will see," is the Martian's only reply, and they continue to wait in the darkness on the moon.

Elsewhere, 05:53:31:

Someone is watching the two heroes in the JLA Watchtower. No one should be able to penetrate the walls of the structure through sight or sound...yet, someone sees Green Lantern and the Martian Manhunter sit at their places and talk.

Someone smiles to himself as he watches a multitude of screens that serve as the only light source for his room. Rays of light hit his black suit pants, on top of them resting a slinky cat that purrs underneath his slow stroking.

Someone sees the Watchtower, and he is probably the last person who should see it. But he does anyway...and none are the wiser.

Each screen has its own subject. In one, he sees a man faster than lightning run up and down almost every street of his home at once. Another shows him a constantly changing feed over and in the Atlantic Ocean, sometimes catching the citizens of an ancient civilization, even at times their prodigal ruler. There is a similar screen for Gotham City...it has yet to catch the dark city's knight in action, but it is just in case. A satellite provides images from an island hidden in space and time that no other technology but his could offer. There are others, of course, but he turns to a specific one next.

In the rounded square of the screen, he sees the last son of a dead planet flying from the one he adopted as his own. He smiles, and he pets his cat.

Metropolis, 02:18:01 PM:

Lois Lane leads a normal life, from the outside looking in. A popular, talented female journalist for one of the biggest printed sources of information in the country with a home in an apartment and a happy marriage to her longtime friend and co-worker.

From the inside looking out, however...

From the inside of her apartment, looking out the window, Lois sees his proud blue figure develop in the sky, and in a few short seconds, he is at her window, smiling at the simple sight of her in their home, at her desk, in her pajamas.

And still, sometimes, it amazes her to see him, him, floating there. But it always brings her joy. She acts like she doesn't see him at her window, but how could she not notice?

He's not just her husband. He is Clark Kent, and he is Kal-El, and he is .

"Feeling any better honey?" The protector of Metropolis asks his newly wed wife through the window after he opens it faster than Lois can even see. She continues to look down at her papers, which are organized only in her own eyes. Coughing first, then writing something down, she replies.

"About the same as twenty minutes ago, Clark, when you last checked on me, which was only thirty minutes after the time before that. Are you really still under the 'helpless damsel' impression?" She asks this playfully, then sniffs a few times before sneezing in a jarring explosion. Superman smiles as he rests his elbows on the windowsill.

"Helpless? You know I know better than that, Lois..."

"Aaa...Achoo!"

"I just wanted to make sure everything's alright."

Lois stands on weak knees, supporting herself on the chair, and walks slowly to the open window, taking her husband's handsome face as firmly in her hands as she can and stares into his shining blue eyes.

"Clark: It's just a little flu virus, okay? Nothing I can't handle...*sniff*...I'm a big girl. Have been for a while." He still can't help but smile in light of her beautiful, but tired face being so close.

"Believe me, I know it. To tell the truth, I'm not all that worried about you - -"

"Thanks!" Lois sarcastically laughs in his face.

"- - Hey, it's just a little flu virus, right? It's a slow news day, even for the famous Daily Planet, so I've been pretty bored. It's my third break of the day, and Perry will probably give me another two or three before the day's over, and I can't see a better way to spend them."

Her full red lips curl into a smile. "Aww," She hugs him while cooing, "How sweet. The peace before the storm, huh?"

"Why, whatever do you mean Miss Lane?"

"Smallville! Don't play dumb with me. You've only been talking about it all week, and you're my inside source for the whole JLA shake up...that article is what I've been working on all day."

"Sounds like you've been working a little too much, then..."

"Look who's talking," She says following with a cat's smile then placing a petite finger tipped with a bright red nail on his nose. "How many lives have you saved on your breaks so far?"

"If you'd rather I stay at work..."

"Oh, shut up!"

And in her mock outrage, Superman pulls her closely in for a loving kiss, which she avoids narrowly.

"Hey, hey there, lover boy...see this?" She points to her pale face. "That spells F-L-U for you."

Laughing slightly to himself, he stares at her for a moment. "Lois. It's me." And it takes another second for her to realize the mistake.

"Oh God. Now I feel stupid...Sometimes I just forget."

Seconds of bliss that they would rather stretch into eternity between their lips, and she pulls away again to cough.

"*Koff koff!*"

"Here, you promise to get some rest, I'll promise to try and stay busy until six o'clock tonight. Deal?"

"Hmmm..."

"Please don't make me use my telescopic and x-ray vision in tangent, hon. Crime can't hide from Superman!"

"Quiet, you," Lois says as she walks away and crawls into bed. "I'll get some rest...some rest. You go save the world and write about it, alright?"

"Sounds good to me. Just holler if you need anything, honey...I can hear you from anywhere."

As quickly as it opened, the window is shut, and Lois is curled up warmly in their comfortable bed, staring out the window.

On the inside looking out.....

Atlantic Ocean, 12:04:45 PM:

This isn't her kingdom. This is far from her place of ruling...far from the magic of the Amazons. But she still carries with her the same dignity and power that she was given as gifts by her mother all those years ago, virtues that a princess can hardly be stripped of.

Diana of the Amazons, , hovers over the Atlantic Ocean staring into its rippling depths like she was trying to see through to the innumerable treasures at the very bed of the sea. Raven black hair blowing in the wind, golden lasso glistening at her curved hip, she truly is a goddess suspended over the peaceful water. A splash cracks that peace, and the cold awakening breaks it.

"Goddess!" Wonder Woman exclaims, turning in the air to see a large killer whale with its toothy grin, recently landed from a high jump out of the water. On its finned back sits a blonde man, a king in his own right, and the true ruler of where she now holds watch.

"You've been sitting there for almost an hour, Diana," he says. "You honestly can't be that surprised I came to see what the visit is about."

"I just expected something a little more mature from the king of Atlantis, . I am glad you met me halfway, though."

Long, untamable blonde hair falls from his bearded face to his strong shoulders. On the back of the black and white creature of the sea, he looks like a king riding his steed, and he is, truly. With his one remaining hand he grips the whale's rubbery skin, while his other arm, ending in a golden hook where a second hand used to be, stays clear of one of his subjects. Aquaman smirks slightly.

"Sorry. Maybe I'm just practicing to make a big appearance with the rest of you tonight. It's hard to compare sometimes with Superman flying in with cape in tow and the Flash showing up with only seconds to go, saying he's the last one there but not late, and then we find out that Batman has been there for the past day but we haven't noticed."

"That wouldn't be like you, though, Arthur," Wonder Woman says, partly concerned. Calmly, he agrees.

"No. It wouldn't. What brings you here, Diana? Did you just long to stare at the water out here?."

"It's beautiful," She replies, "But no, I did not come for that. Arthur, you have been a part of almost every incarnation of the League, probably only less so than J'onn. Tell me..." Her eyes grow narrower, gaining an almost accusing attribute, "Do you think it will work?"

The king sits more comfortably on his whale and pats it lightly. "Do I think what will work, Diana?"

"The League."

"It has before, hasn't it?" His logic would seem flawless, but they both have seen many faces come, many go, and many change.

"It has and it hasn't. The League has always had its good points, we both know, and with you and I and the five other core members...well, it all worked out well with the Pale Martians*. But when we let the roster get too big and unruly...things don't go as well as they can. No offense to Gypsy or Ralph, or any of the others. Their hearts were in the right place..."

(* Previously in JLA #1-4 - Will)

"I know what you mean, and I suppose I have to agree. But I don't think it's yours and my place, or any of us for that matter, to decide who gets to help the planet out and who doesn't. Tonight we're going to have a number of guests at the Watchtower, both invited and on their own, and each one wants to be a part of a group whose sole purpose is to keep the earth, and maybe occasionally existence itself, safe. Only five of them will stay on with us, and we get to choose who those five are. You're asking me if I think it can work, Diana?" He stops briefly, allowing Wonder Woman a quick say.

"No, I'm asking you if you think it will work." Aquaman shakes his head slightly, trying to be truthful.

"Then I can't answer you, because I don't know. But I will say that I think it has the ability to work...the JLA will always have the potential. It's up to whoever is involved to see to whether it does or not."

Now it is the princess's turn. She nods very little motions at first and then large, gracious bows of her head.

"That is all we can ask for then, is hope," Diana says to him. The conversation holds stagnant as though it would soon fail and end, then Arthur clears his throat quickly.

"So, Diana...why did you ask me this, instead of J'onn?"

On this, she must give thought, well planned if not deep. It causes her to look away momentarily, and once she looks back, she still speaks stumblingly. "J'onn...he is a hero, and a warrior, and a gentle soul. He has been with the League more than you, Arthur, but he...is not as approachable as you, to say the least."

"Diana," Aquaman calls her, grinning now more than any time so far. "Are you telling me that you think I'm more friendly than someone?"

"Not at all, Arthur." Her sculpted body begins its ascension on air itself, arms crossed across her generous chest, and she looks down on him with her own hint of a smile. "J'onn is much friendlier than you. You are just easier to find. I will see you this evening."

Into the blue sky, she spreads her arms and wills herself away like an eagle in flight. King Arthur of Atlantis follows her supple form into the distance until he can no longer see her then shakes his head.

"- We go Home? -" The killer whale breaks her silence.

"- Yeah + Home now -" Answers the king to his servant. They disappear in a quiet bubbling and foaming of blue-green water, and then the surface of the Atlantic Ocean is still again.

Gotham City, 05:53:59 PM:

A cave full of trophies, machinery, and flying rodents. It is a lair to a man, and only a man.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred calls from the stairs leading light and guest down onto the rocky floor. He walks as a tall, thin sliver of shadow in the light from the doors leading to this cavern. Further down, he looks around at the many wonders of his master and friend's true home within a home. "Master Bruce? It's almost six o'clock, sir...I don't believe you'll want to be la..." Then his elderly eyes spy the note. "Oh."

His hand comes out to grab the small sheet of paper. Pulling it closer to his face, he sees that it was written in haste, but still precisely.

Alfred-

         Went to the moon. Tell Robin to eat his dinner and be careful tonight. Back before 1 for quick stock then back on the street. Call if there are problems.-BW

"Mast Tim?" Alfred calls back to the upper levels of Wayne Mansion as he crumples the note and discards it, "I have a message for you....."

New York City, 5:54:01 PM:

I'm not nervous.

Why should I be? I was with the League plenty back in the day, and I proved myself even when I was the new guy. It's not as if I won't be powerful enough...Most of them know that from experience. But this will be my first time with them on my own. Firestorm's first time up there without Professor Stein.

I've been without him for a while. It was like being freed, sort of. But sometimes I still miss hearing his voice in my head. I know what he'd be saying right now..."Ronnie, if you want to make it into the League again, you need to know what you're going to say...what you're going to show them that makes you a good choice." He always acted like he wasn't a part of being Firestorm. He was wrong...I don't feel quite smart enough without him sometimes. Like today...

I'm trying out for the Justice League of America. Just me, Ronnie Raymond, Firestorm, the Nuclear Man.

These modern gods are holding a try out on the moon and I'm going to do it on my own. I have the experience, I have the ability, definitely the charm.....I'm not nervous.

I change from my average human form into the fire-topped figure of heroism in red, yellow, and orange in a flash that gives me a familiar tingle. Through new eyes I look at my apartment, apparently the usual place for modern heroes like me. Young guys, normal guys...Not gods.

Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous.

But I suck it up and fly to phase through the window, and on the other side I start my quick little journey to the nearest teleporter.

Elsewhere, 5:57:00 PM:

Someone just put down his lithe cat and stood when he realized what time it was. He stood from his chair and for the first time in hours looked away from his wall of pictures. He surveyed his quarters, and he smiled devilishly the whole time.

Someone just donned a green suit of armor, covering his body as well as his face. In the dark, it is too hard to tell who put on this weapon, or even his exact intentions for it, but know this:

Someone just left for the Watchtower on the moon. Someone just left to visit the JLA.

The Watchtower, 05:57:36 PM:

Where there were once two, and before them none, there are now five. Five people, more than people, in their temple of unbreakable glass and whirring machinery. The very base of the structure is in their collective sense of duty.

This foundation will not be shaken.

"I hope you haven't waited long," Wonder Woman says thoughtfully while she finds her marked place at the table.

"Aquaman and I just got here," Superman tells her from his own seat, "And Kyle and J'onn were already here when we came."

"We were...talking," The Manhunter says briefly in his cool, hushed voice. Kyle only sits, quietly, not moving or speaking but very much paying attention.

"Early, Arthur? I'm surprised," She continues to Aquaman, who sits leaned regally and sucked into his chair with thick arms crossed.

"Really," murmurs the Atlantean king. "Perhaps you should get out more, then."

"Hey guys," A new voice calls with fair enthusiasm from the next room. Red and yellow streaks that shake violently like ill children lead their way from the adjacent room to one of the table's seats at speeds only very few of those present can perceive. So, as if by magic, the Flash appears at his place and there are six.

"I'm not late am I?" Asks the lightning bolt with joking audacity. The Lantern looks to a shining green watch suddenly on his wrist, created by his precious ring.

"Actually, by thirteen minutes and about twenty-four seconds..."

The Flash's face loses its flow all at once. "What...??" The smile on Kyle's, though, brings an added red to Wally's. "Someone should set that ring for you, Green...it's off."

From the shadows made in their secret audiences above them, a form seeming to be made from the darkness itself swoops down among the six bright heroes with black tatters trailing behind, standing broad and valiant just being there. They all must watch with attentive stares as he seems to slide to his seat effortlessly.

A new heavy weight is in the air now. He is , and that is all.

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you, Batman?" Flash says with a grin, something few of the others would even attempt.

" I've been busy. Problem overseas. It's now three seconds past six...does anyone else wish to waste our time?"

If anyone does, they withhold any inkling of doing so. Wisely.

The smile on Superman's famous face is implied when he speaks. "Then let's get started. I believe I hear the teleporter now...So let's not keep our guests waiting."

They each feel the exchange of particles across space-time. Some have felt it before, and some haven't, but those that take the teleporting device feel that quick disassembling that takes them from wherever they began to the Watchtower on the moon. Past members find a resonance in their surroundings that recalls past years, as do the faces that surround them.

"Hey match-head," Says a carefree voice to Firestorm, who walks through the awe-inspiring crowd looking in all directions. He turns as the voice continues, finding the words attached to Plastic Man's animated face on the end of a long stretch of flesh that makes his neck. "I'm not sure, but I think this is a 'No Smoking' area."

"Plastic Man, I know your reputation...But can't we at least get to know each other first before you start cracking jokes?" Replies the Nuclear Man, smiling back.

"Why, Firestorm!" The elastic jester exclaims with his contorted hand to his chest, pumping his heart violently. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you thought I was coming on to m- - "

"I don't want to think about the children. It wasn't made to be, I guess."

With such surroundings, both heroes find their attentions wandering. Firestorm continues to walk, and finds a familiar face jumping out at him like an attack.

"Tornado!" Firestorm proclaims happily, slapping a yellow-gloved hand on the Red Tornado robot's thick shoulder.

"Hello Firestorm. It has been quite a while."

"Yeah...I thought you were busy with some....."

"The Leymen. We have disbanded."

"You'd be amazed how many times Tornado's been asked that in the two minutes I've been talking to him," The teenager, once a man, called the Atom at his full size comments lightheartedly. Looking at his old friend, Firestorm notices the youth in his face that is obviously more than good health and light aging. He looks younger than the flame-haired hero...and he's a college professor.

"Ray? Ray, what happened to you man? You look....." The Atom cracks a grin. "Well, great."

"Thanks...It isn't such a great deal, though. It's a stupid story*...maybe I'll tell it to you sometime, if we both get onto the team."

"Yeah...I haven't had much to do with teams myself since...well, a while ago. I'm hoping maybe I can give it another shot."

"Really? Same here! I had a little group of my own**...but um...haha, well looks like none of us have done all too well with teams, huh?"

"I'm just hoping for better luck here. I mean, it's the JLA..." Firestorm says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the room. "These days it seems like it's the one constant thing."

"I agree. Good luck to you, Firestorm," Red Tornado adds.

"Thanks, Tornado. Same to you., and you too, Ray."

(* Extant tried to de-age the Atom to nothing during Zero Hour, but only managed to turn him into a teenager.)

(** The Atom led a team of Teen Titans for a brief period after his transformation. -WS)

More faces and costumes almost drown Firestorm.....Steel, Blue Beetle, Fire, Black Canary, Elongated Man, the Ray. There are even more, but Firestorm finds himself drawn to a green and purple figure aside from the crowds, a body whose armor covers its face and creates an intimidating stature.

"Huh...?" grunts the flame-topped young hero as he stares at the mysterious stranger. "Excuse me," He asks as he walks slowly to the phantom armor, "But...Do I know you? You seem familiar..." The strange feeling is undeniable. Static-covered words sound in response through a speaker.

"*kzzt*I don't think so. I'm Iron Hide. Maybe you're thinking of Rocket Red?*kzzt*"

The fire dances atop Firestorm's shaking head. "No...no, sorry. I must've been mistaken....."

Before he can truly grasp even that simple exchange, though, Firestorm and the others hear the sliding of a great metal door that calls of their eyes to inspect. Seven bodies, each a shape familiar to all and a totem to legend, appear against the revealed light. The caped one in blue and red, hovering with arms crossed, speaks first.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to the JLA Watchtower. There seem to be quite a few of you this evening, so I hope that you all have some time to spare. We appreciate your interest, of course, but please know that we will be choosing five of you to join the JLA, and only five. There are a number of questions we would like to ask and tests we'd like to run, so if there aren't any questions..."

"Uh, Supes?" the unsure but slightly snickering voice asks out of nowhere, originating from Blue Beetle with his arm raised. "I have a question."

"Yes, Beetle?"

"Will the League be taking past experience into account?" He asks, grinning uncontrollably.

"Everything is taken into account," Batman answers for him in a rush. "Everything is important. There are no more questions, so let's begin."

So Firestorm falls into the new flow of the crowd through the door, following his hosts. And by his own good luck, in his opinion, the orange-tinted man of fire and quantum ends up shuffling next to his friend, the Atom, who whispers to Firestorm.

"Think they'll have any room for a shrinking teenage professor?"

"Heh...They've taken stranger before."

"Speaking of which, is...?"

"No. It's just me in here."

"Got it," Ray says and nods, and then they follow their herd into another room in the watching place of the gods.

CONCLUDED IN: JLA #2 -"Moonstruck"

The Hall of

JUSTICE

Send Letters and Comments to WeekapaugB@aol.com

I've waited quite a long time to do this. "Do what," You ask? Why, write the Justice League of America, of course. The premiere team of the DC Universe. The modern pantheon of gods collected on the moon. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman...the greats. They're all who I've waited for, and now in a sense, I have them.

"JLA" should be considered the main title of the JLU: 2001 site. No, not because the EiC writes it, or because it's better than all the other titles (I can assure you it's not, and I have written proof), but because all other titles are based from it. The Magnificent Seven, the main core members of the JLA, each have their own ongoing titles, which interact with each other as well as this one. Continuity begins directly after JLA #14, in which the Justice League of America was disbanded only to be regrouped with new members. So that's where we are....."New Members."

I don't like second-stringers much on the JLA. Maybe less-used characters, but not ones that won't make a difference. Next issue will show us who makes it, and possibly just who "someone" was who monitored the Watchtower. I can assure much more real action in the next issue...I just had to set it up like this, though. Because you see, these characters are practically real to me, and so like any real person, they need an introduction (to some people, at least), and they have personalities and lives to lead and explore. So I'll apologize now if this issue bored you, the reader, for some reason...But it won't be a heartfelt apology, because I personally enjoy that sort of semi-realistic storytelling. Sorry. My ego's beginning to swell...maybe it's just because I write JLA.

I love these characters quite a bit, and I love the thought of them as icons and as people just as much. Other writers who felt this way: Mark Waid, Mark Millar, Christ Priest, and of course, Grant Morrison. Each affect my writing style on this book, as well as others who didn't work on JLA (Alan Moore, Kurt Busiek, James Robinson, and Neil Gaiman come to mind). I can't compare myself to them, but you're welcome to do so by e-mailing me your comments and thoughts on each issue at "The Hall of Justice" at WeekapaugB@aol.com. This will be a place for your letters, my answers, and any rants I may have.

I've taken up enough space and time here, I'm sure. Any feedback is welcome, bad or good. And just keep in mind that, even if you don't like the stories too much, at least you have someone who cares writing your JLA. Happy New Year to all.

-Will Short

December 31, 2000

9:45 PM