The Watchtower - 6:17 PM:

"That's it." Says Ronnie Raymond, or Firestorm as his nuclear alter ego is named, defiantly. Unnatural light lights up his narrowed eyes under his flaming hair.

"My first day back…" He grumbles, almost grunts, in a disgusted tone he has reserved for foes and the despised. And now, a single opponent shines its light in his face like a taunting laugh, reminding him that he can't do a thing about it.

"My first day back with the JLA, and I have freakin' monitor duty!" Standing before the screens dancing with images, with his arms stretched towards the ceiling of the Watchtower, he reaches for some sort of salvation from his burden. But Firestorm's situation is inescapable, and the large hand gripping Ronnie's shoulder is only a reminder.

Attached a way's away to the hand is Plastic Man, his face overgrown and contorted in a look of horror with his expanded hands at the sides of his head. Firestorm hides his smile, and Plastic Man slowly reverts to a more normal state.

"I know, 'Stormy, I know…Same here man. It's not so bad though, right? I mean, at least I'm not out risking this handsome neck, huh?"

"Dude, you don't know what it's like!" Firestorm exclaims, turning back around to his partner, now resembling a turtle ninja brandishing nunchukas. "Funny. Way back in the day when I was in the League, this was the worst job, and from what I've gathered it still is." He turns back around to look at the chairs and screens behind him. "God, just sitting still in those chairs for hours…"

"Who said anything about sitting still?" Plastic Man asks, extending his limbs and shaking them. "We can have a party --No wait, better yet, a slumber party! And we can have smores and make-overs and…"

"Believe me, I'd rather have you make me up than do this."

"Wow. That is pretty bad. But hey…" He says, while Firestorm reluctantly sits before the multitude of flashing screens. "At least ya got me as your partner for the day!" For a suspended moment, Firestorm sits completely still and silent in his chair, while Plastic Man walks closer from behind him.

"Whattaya say to that?" Asks the goggled man, who forms his malleable body into a large question mark when unanswered. "'Stormy? Ya in there man?"

"Yeah Plas, I'm here. And don't call me 'Stormy."

"Alright, Sir Flamesalot, then what do ya say?"

Folding his arms, Firestorm suddenly feels as though his weight were pulling him further down into the chair. "Fun. Utterly fun." He says quietly, and behind him Plastic Man smiles his exaggerated, impish grin, the word "FUN" with an arrow pointing at his bright face sticking out of his chest.

"Whatta we do first then? I say we tag our logos on the back of some of those chairs."

"What logos? We don't have logos," Firestorm tells him.

"Well, ya know…I mean, like we could put some fire on the back of yours, and maybe--Yeah, we can put this diamond thing on my belt on mine!"

"Dude…It'd look like a kite."

Plastic Man droops like a melting wax figure. "…A…A kite?"

BeepBeepBeep BeepBeepBeep

The digital noise erects Plastic Man once again. "Ohmygod! What's that?" He asks as he bounces back and forth feverishly, arms flailing.

Firestorm searches the floating boards and screens for anything to help. "It's…an incoming message, I think," He says, reading the screen that just appeared in front of him with the same words on it.

"Which button do we press? Whichbuttondowepress?!" Plastic Man cries as his bouncing increases.

"Shut up for a minute!" The motion Firestorm makes with his hand is quick and stiff. "It can't be that hard…Just…"

"Oh, God, why didn't they train us? Why, I ask!"

"I said shut up! If you'd shut up, I could…Okay: Here…!" A finger covered in yellow material comes down on the flashing red button, which Firestorm wonders why he didn't seen before.

The screen that before had flashed INCOMING MESSAGE shifts to a close up picture of a man with a familiar stature, with thick black hair and blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw hidden by a beard. His intensity is strengthened by the green suit he wears, obviously of alien origin.

"…*bzzt*...This is General Zod of the Kryptonian military. I bring a simple message to your meek planet: You have but hours of a free existence left. The Kryptonian Elite are within range of your atmosphere at this moment. Your resistance will be for nothing. We are coming. Soon Earth will be a new Kyrypton, and your race will be but an afterthought...*bzzt*..."

Suddenly, the image that the two Leaguers were watching intently spatters until it dies in a flood of static and noise. The Watchtower computers automatically shut off the message and remove the screen, leaving the pair with open mouths, Plastic Man's considerably more so.

"…'Stormy?" Plastic Man asks sheepishly, he and Firestorm seemingly frozen as they continue to stare at the empty air where a screen once was.

"Yeah?"

"What just happened?"

"I don't know."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

"What's the capital of Ohio?"

"I don't know."

"What's--"

"I don't know, Plas. But I think we know some people who do."

With the pressing of a few lit buttons on, a small speaker presents itself for use. Firestorm leans forward, and in thirteen other places, to thirteen other people, Firestorm speaks.

"Ladies and gents…Firestorm here, sending out an all-JLA call: Me and Plas just got an unfriendly call plus plenty of static This Zod guy -- General Zod -- warning that him and his group were going to turn Earth into a new Krypton…I think. Guys…

"Isn't Superman the last Kryptonian?"

In one mind more than others, the words echo.

	The World's Greatest Superheroes..... "Shades of the Past" APPARITIONS ONE
JLA #3 - March, Year One	by Will Short

Washington, D.C. - 6:22 PM:

"Wow…" Flash mumbles to himself. "That was quick."

Sprinting at lightspeed towards the front of the White House, he sees a caped figure solid in the air, arms crossed over the mixed crowds. Beside the cape, he stops and looks up. "Any idea of what's happening?"

Superman responds, strangely aloof. "No. But I am going to find out."

"Yeah..." The speedster agrees. "You and us..." His words are pulled out from under him.

The shadow that has formed over the White House grows larger still, and its owner halts its descent meters above.

"...All..."

A giant, bronze-colored vessel, with round, bubble-like blue formations. The shape and design spark recognition in Superman. His gaze goes unfaltered.

"They know how to make an entrance, don't they? Announcing it on TV all over the world and all -- You'd think they wants us to know," Flash quips to cover his nervousness.

"I'm sure they do, whoever they really are."

Flash pauses, choosing his words. "...So you're...Sure they're not--"

"Wally, I accepted...Krypton's fate a long, long time ago. I've encountered Zod before. He's...Dead, just like Krypton, besides me, and these people -- Or whatever they are -- Are not going to tarnish that heritage."

"I -- Yeah. I know how you feel," He says, a legacy in mind.

Silent again, the two heroes and so many others watch the giant door opening on the underside of the ship. Using the slanted plane as a path, three figures in similar dress are lead by one in green towards a platform at the end, suspended and covered with equipment. Soldiers below ready their weapons.

A bearded man approaches what resembles a microphone at the podium, three close at his sides. Looking out, a sinister smile crawls over his face. "Ha...A-ha, ha," He laughs dryly for all to hear. "Please. Fire your weapons. They are nothing to what we are here: Your new masters. Your new gods.

"Under your young, yellow sun, our bodies are enhanced, strengthened, beyond the greatest dreams of your feeble race. With that this planet will be remade into the image of ours, and your people made slaves of the higher race."

"Pompous, huh?" Flash asks, and looking up, he finds a hardened expression.

"Our armies are approaching Earthspace at this this moment. We are of the mightiest breed here, each one of us...I, Zod, and the other leaders, Ursa, Non, even Jor-El...Above your abilities..."

Superman's eyes widen at the last name, and with telescopic vision, looks at the man standing uncomfortably to the general's right. His heart sinks upon seeing the face.

"I think they're about ready to meet the 'slaves'," Flash says, but looking at Superman, he sees that he has not moved save for his disheartened expression. "Superman? Aren't we going to...Stop this...? In front of them, it continues.

"So come!" Zod cries, suddenly releasing himself from gravity and raising with arms outstretched. "Attack us! Rebel! And you will see the power of the Kryptonian Elite!" He aims down and lets loose a beam of pure heat from his eyes, catching a portion of the great lawn on fire. A unified scream goes up from the crowd.

Immediately, the soldiers open fire on his defiant figure. Each bullet that strikes him richochets away, some of them even hitting onlookers. In seconds the guns are quiet again, the only sound Zod's maniacal laughter.

"It begins, brothers! A new, glorious age for Krypton!"

"Zod!" The purple streak flies towards the general, striking him. Superman then hovers before him enraged and still.

"And who is this brave soul," Zod asks mockingly, lifting his head with a maniac look, "Above the swine?"

The hero is not pleased. "I'm called Superman here, and this planet is under my protection. I will not allow this."

"Ridiculous...'Superman'. You are only one, even if you fly over your fellow man."

"I fly for them, even though I..." He hesitates.

"I'm one of you. The last Kryptonian. Which, along with the fact that you are dead, means that you are imposters. Now...Who are you, and why are you here?"

Zod's response comes swiftly, a blow to Superman's face, causing the legend to fall, those below gasping together. They could feel its power, and see it as well.

"Liar!"

The Flash speaks hurriedly into his communicator. "Firestorm? Plas? Where's everyone else? We need back-up here!"

"...*bzzt* Red Tornado, Kyle, and J'onn're already on their way, but...Sorry man, it's crazy -- Everyone else is either not answering their communicators...Or busy...*bzzt*..."

"Then you and Plas get to D.C. right now, too!"

"...*bzzt* But we're supposed to--"

"Superman just got knocked down. Hurry."

"...*bzzt*.....Superm -- Okay....Okay. We're already there.*bzzt*"

The Watchtower - Day One, 6:29 PM:

"Will you hurry up, man?" Firestorm says impatiently. "You heard Wally...That guy just hit Superman, and it actually did something!"

"Coming!" Plastic Man yells from the other room. "I'd be there already if you'd shut down all this stuff yourself..."

"It doesn't matter! Just come on!"

"Fine, fine..."

Sighing, Firestorm enters the teleporter and feels hismelf bathed in light. Seconds later, the machine's noises subside, only to sweel and fade again. Aquaman enters an empty room.

"Hello?" He asks loudly, exiting and hearing only the most minute sounds in the usually bustling stronghold. "Why the Hell did my communicator's alarm go off if nobody's--"

Plastic Man's stretched body greets him. "Hiya."

"Oh. It's you. Were you playing up here? My communicator's been making the most astoundingly obnoxious noises..."

"Well, you're lucky, fishdude..." Plastic Man says, pointing an arrow-like finger in the way of the teleporter room. "I wasn't 'playing up here,' I was just leaving to go fight aliens with some superheroes."

"Can't we go a month without an alien invasion?"

"I guess not when we look as good as we do. Wanna come with?"

Aquaman folds his thick arms. "Not particularly."

"Suit yourself," The now well-dressed Plastic Man says while walking away. "But if you don't start playing with your friends more, they might not keep inviting you over..."

"If only they would....."

"We'll be in Washington celebrating our victory with the prez -- And sweet young interns, if you're looking for us later..."

Aquaman begins to turn and follow the red rubber man, but in the shaded corner of the monitor room, his acute eyes see movement.

"What....."

Its is a wiry, contorted shape. One that Arthur recognizes.

"Plastic Man. If you've already left, I'm going to spear you," He states, still looking. To Aquaman's luck, his goggled face, now sporting smiley-face lenses, snakes around the door's side. "Yyyyyyessss, A-Man? Prob.....Lem?" His body joins his head, and stands completely still.

"Yes," Aquaman says without facing him, a terrified look on his face.

Ivytown, USA - 6:34 PM:

This is the home of Ray Palmer. A fair-sized, humble apartment, strewn with scientific documents and sparse furniture. It usually smells like fresh wood and faint maple syrup.

Right now, it smells like the jungle...And searing flesh.

As Ray Palmer, called the Atom at times, looks down on his paper-covered kitchen counter, he sees a tiny mass of yellow slowly making its way towards him. He lowers his eyes level to the countertop and tries to study it.

"What kind of ants...?" He stops quickly. Handling his belt, Ray shrinks to a nearly microscopic size onto the plane, staring into what is now the distance only to see an entire tribe of pale yellow people, savagely dressed. The sight of flame-red hair catches his eye.

"My God...Laethwen?" Quickly he shakes his head as they still approach. "...No. I'm not falling for the same trick twice, Chronos. You can take your..."

He looks again, closer, and sees the cause of the flaring color. Fire. He sees the pain in their charred faces, and the intense anger. "Do you smell it, Atom?" Asks the otherwise beautiful woman, someone Ray once loved. "And see it? It is your fault we are this way.

"So we invite you to join us in oblivion, beloved." Swords raise and eyes blair, and the Atom only backs away uncomfortably.

"I...Laethwen, I--" Without finishing, he grows to size. His breaths are deep, hard to take. Then he realizes that something has been beeping for the last few minutes.

Atom answers the noisy communicator he draws from his pocket in a weak voice. "H-Hello...?"

"Ray? Is that you, man?" Wally West's desperate voice comes through the small speaker.

"Yeah...Yeah, it's me. What's the emergency?"

"You mean you haven't heard? Big trouble in Washington -- I'll explain when you get here. We need any Leaguer we can get fast."

"State or D.C.?"

"Huh?"

"Washington state or Washington D.C.?"

"As in White House."

"I'll...get a teleport there in a minute. Atom out."

Ray Palmer leaves his home quickly, ignoring the ghastly yellow in his kitchen. And within that minute, the tribe melds together and swells to the form of a flowing cape and glowing star-like eyes. "Mm..." It says in an inhuman voice. "Dissapointing. He's only a weak one, though..." The form disentigrates from the sloppy apartment again.

This is the home of Ray Palmer. It smells uniquely like bitter chronal residue.

Washington, D.C. - 6:55 PM:

In a flash of emerald light, a body appears at the lawn of the White House. Immediately, it finds a peer in red.

KKKKKRASH!

Behind his friend, the man stares on as a legend he's worshipped from youth plummets into the soil. Soon the cause of his descent hovers with glowing red eyes over the body...The body of Superman.

"Wally? Wally, what the Hell's--"

"Where's everyone else?" Flash asks of the floating Green Lantern in a rush, who is entranced in the scene playing out.

"Who...Everyone else...?" he asks weakly.

"J'onn. Tornado. The rest of the Justice League...Superman's being humiliated on national TV, for God's sake! And what took you so long, anyway? Aren't you just coming from New York?"

"Hold on, man," Kyle says, snapped back to reality. "Back off, okay? I had...something weird happen that took a minute. And I don't know where anyone else is...I just flew over here as soon as you gave me the beep, okay?"

ZZZZZAP!

Both men look over again to find their leader just barely dodging his foe's heat vision, which nearly strikes members of the overflowing crowd.

Slack-jawed, Kyle wonders aloud. "Wally? Tell me again why we aren't helping him?"

"Haven't you been watching TV?"

"I was working and then...Well, I was working."

The Flash sighs. "I was waiting for more to show up and help -- See, each one's about as powerful as Superman at his best."

Green Lantern winces. "...Looks like he's not even at that...What're we gonna do against that?"

"I..." Wally stutters, distracted by the battle. "I don't...know....."

BA-DOOM!

If anyone at all wasn't watching closely before, they are now. Superman's assailant lays beside him with steam now coming off his uniform.

"Green Lantern, keep the bystanders safe. Wally, get Superman away from him. Leave Zod to us." These are the bold words of J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, followed in the air by the Red Tornado.

"Gotcha, J'onn," Flash says he salutes, readying to run. "And good to see that you made it. Let's move, green in the face."

"Dude, that's cornier than 'Three's Company'..." Lantern is already in the air, holding back the onlookers with rendered policemen and barracades.

"You're talking to a child of history, pal...And I liked 'Three's Company'....." In less than a second, Superman's battered body is draped over Wally's arms on the ground.

"...Wally....." He murmurs hoarsely.

"Superman, are you alright? I know he's a Kryptonian -- Or whatever...But you're not looking to good out there."

".....My powers...They've been unpredictable lately."*

(*See Dino Pollard's recent SUPERMAN issues for more details. -Will)

"Well, don't worry -- Help's here now." Before Flash can turn away, Superman grabs his costume with strength to crush diamond.

"Help me up, Wally. Please." Silently, the speedster does so, and after a moment's recuperation, the passion returns to Superman's eyes.

"A Martian...? On this rock? The pretender keeps strange company..." Zod raises into the air once more. "Not that it will help any of you." Again, his eyes burn and fire their heat at the oncoming Manhunter. The sight is cause for his dismay -- As the crimson energy strikes him, J'onn smells his flesh burn. He staggars mid-flight.

"We are even more than your old race here," He boasts. The heat is relentless, even as J'onn struggles against it, and with a well-placed punch Zod knocks him from the sky. "We are old as well, and wise. Give up."

"How come I keep playing outfield?" The Flash runs under J'onn's shadow ready for his falling form. Two green angels keep him from it.

"Because you're the twinkle-toes," Says Green Lantern from above, lowering the Manhunter to the ground.

"And you said I was corny...Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Huh...? Oh, man....."

"I've got it," exclaims a new voice by the circling crowd, belonging to Firestorm. His glowing hands form a towering wall of thick steel, sealing them away to safety. He turns to the others. "That's permanent. Now we cut loose."

The sound of warping metal calls his attention again. Little by little, a portion in the newly made wall pushes in until it breaks with a POP to reveal two figures, one shapely, one miniscule on the other's shoulder.

"Thanks, Wonder Woman."

"You're welcome, Ray. And it's Diana." The warrior woman steps through her hole with the Atom on for the ride. "Now we cut loose, Firestorm."

"Sorry about the delay. We had...Stuff to deal with."

Fixing the hole, he agrees. "Is this everyone, or should I put the hole back?"

"We're missing Aquaman, Black Canary, and Batman.....So no surprises, there," the Flash answers.

"Hold on -- Has anyone seen Plas?" Firestorm asks, and they quickly sample the area. "Man, he was coming when I left..."

"Where is he?"

The Watchtower - 7:29 PM:

A mass of noises: snickering, yelling, stomping. The bodies are surrounding them, and they are of all shapes, all sizes. The king recognizes them all. He knows he shouldn't be seeing them.

In the center are two. Plastic Man isn't laughing, nor even smiling. And Aquaman? His hook shines in the dim light.

The circles close in, their voices getting louder, and their anger and hatred coming ever closer.

Theirs is a sea of revenge with endless depths.

Gotham City, USA - 7:30 PM:

"Nghh!"

Earlier she was just sitting there, watching and waiting. She turned her communicator off after its third beep.

{Why'd you do that?} Her partner had asked. She said that she didn't need another voice in her head at the moment. What she didn't say was that it was filled, randomly enough, with thoughts of the past -- Faces from history.

"--Nyaa!"

She had sat there for a long time. Her friend stayed silent. At times, as she let her thoughts wander, the shadows and darkness seemed to move. And then...

"Gaaaaii!"

And then they did.

At this moment, boot-leather stings flesh on the rooftop. The air has become even more humid and heavy, and the subject of Black Canary's thoughts has been turned outward.

"Don't know who you are--" she says between a scissor kick that strikes the spectacled man in his face and a dual punch in the way of the one in the hood. "--Don't know what you are....."

The third one, short and stocky, rushes and attempts to lift her from behind, which she escapes in back-flipping over him. "...But this is sick."

Her three foes remain silent like shifting rain clouds, arranging for another assault. Suddenly, a flash of bright light blinds the Black Canary, and in that split second her feet are knocked out from under her. When her sight returns, she is lying on her back, seeing three emotionless faces stare down at her.

The faces are dark shades of men she once knew, men she and others looked up to, before they passed on together: Doctor Mid-Nite. The Atom. Hourman. Their soulless eyes, when visible, and lenses reflect her perspiring face in black metal.

A swift kick while jumping from from the ground breaks the wall they've formed around her, and she lands like a feline ready to pounce. In her mind, it's only begun, and it's going to end soon enough.

{Canary? Who were you talking to?} The voice sounding in her head is that of a cocerned woman. {Hello -- Are you th*kzzzzzzt*}

That's two voices taken care of. Now there's just one more...From inside. She motions to the three shadows.

"Okay. Let's go."

Washington, D.C. - 7:31 PM:

"You threaten my people...The very planet I am of. She is not for your kind," Red Tornado says somberly. The small hurricane swirling around him encompasses General Zod as well. Its intensity matches the android's own.

"I can hear your generator, and I can see into your mechanic bowels. What do you know of this planet and its people, little machine?" Zod says, practically unaffected by the violently red winds.

"I know that she is not for the taking." His eyes glow, his mechanized voice flares, and pure anger spills forth from his arms in the form of tiny tornadoes. Zod is tossed like so many rags, yet the whole time, he keeps the same look of assurance. Finally the Tornado throws him to the ground in a fit of sound and furious nature. The imprint left on the lawn of the White House holds Zod...And he smiles.

"Then you should know that when ruler falls, another takes his place." With Red Tornado bearing down on him, Zod watches as the machine's midsection begins to glow and melt away until a dripping hole is there, and through it, a woman's stern face.

"Thank you, Ursa. You are as elegant in combat as ever," Zod says, when a firm finger taps his shoulder. "Ah," He says, once turned. "It seems the idea goes for weaklings, as well." Superman's battered face doesn't flinch. He just strikes, and lifts Zod's body high into the air.

"We forbade the making of your kind on Krypton," Ursa says, holding Tornado under his armpits and staring into his head. "Of course, we were much further ahead. Your design is simply -- ChildiUNGH!" The Tornado's body falls out of her hands, and looking up, he sees Wonder Woman strike her again, just barely able to hear her. The punches, however, are earth-quaking.

"Rulers talk. Warriors fight. And you talk too much."

THWAP

The sound is still echoing in the Tornado's audio sensors when a cot appears underneath him, made of green light. "You alright -- Uh...Red Tornado?" asks Green Lantern as he zooms closer.

"I am fine," he answers, the circuits that are his innards already melding together in repair. "If you wish, 'Tornado', 'Red', or even 'RT' will suffice. That is the least of our worries, though."

Green Lantern, the Flash below, Martian Manhunter close behind, and the Atom on Firestorm's shoulder all find a third Kryptonian, hulking even for his people's strength, flying towards them.

"Handled," Firestorm says, a immediately a jade, glowing bubble encases him. The alien, Non, slowly keels over inside.

"What is that stuff?" Kyle asks with amazement.

"Kryptonite, genius," Flash tells him from below. "It's all Kryptonians can be hurt by...Well, and magic....."

"Hell! Looks like the new guy just solved it!"

"I'm not new..." Firestorm says, and Atom calls out from his shoulder.

"--And that's isn't our solution. Lex Luthor lost his hand to radiation from a Kryptonite ring...We're going have an entire army to deal with any minute now. I don't think a Kryptonite would do the trick without causing other problems."

"Oh..."

"Kryptonite may affect them, but I am not satisfied that they are truly Kryptonian," Red Tornado says, flying perfectly fine now. "I sensed something more than science on General Zod. J'onn, perhaps you could--"

"That's what I already had in mind, Tornado," says the Martian, nearing the trapped, whimpering Kryptonian. He closes his ruby eyes, and his mind opens.

He opens his eyes again very quickly, gasping and recoiling from the bubble. "Gods..."

"What is it, J'onn?" Wally asks. The Manhunter speaks slowly, as ever.

"...Kal told me of his encounter with the Phantom Zone criminals. It was horrible for him -- He killed them. And it had to be done. But these three souls...Zod, Ursa, Non.....I can find no untruth in what they say, only....."

"Only what?" Firestorm asks.

".....Only...They are like minds -- Souls -- Without hosts....."

The only thing that can be heard over the battle between Ursa and Wonder Woman is the repeated pounding of fists between Superman and Zod -- More of Zod's making harsh contact.

FWAP

"You've gotten my attention, Superman," Zod says, suspending him by his neck in an iron grip. "You say that you are of Kryptonian blood -- Yet you live here, among the savages, protecting them, before we even arrived. Our government sent no envoys...You know, we have a scientist among us. Let's ask him."

Dragged by the cape, Superman is led down to the platform of the mighty ship, where Jor-El stands by passively. The Man of Steel's already bruised and bleeding face contorts at the sight.

"Jor-El. Since you are worthless in battle, I have a job to ask of you."

"What is it, Zod? I don't...Have anything else to do with this invasion." Jor-El's voice is unsure as he looks over the battle.

"It's our destiny and survival. It is neccessary. Now..." he says, holding up the broken blue and red body like a ragdoll. "Tell me if this sad creature is a Kryptonian."

The man pauses. "Zod, how--?"

"We're under a yellow sun. We can do anything! Use...I don't know what to call it. Microscopic vision, I suppose. Prove that he is a liar. You are our resident scientist."

With a furrowed brow, Jor-El sighs and concurs. "Fine."

Superman can feel his eyes cutting away at his layers of skin and muscle, straight to what makes him himself. His own expression turns sour with Jor-El's.

"Well?" Asks Zod.

"I...It's impossible."

"What is it?"

"I don't know how, Zod, but -- He is a Kryptonian. And not only that, but.....Well, apparently, from looking at his DNA...He's my.....Son." Superman feels a wave of weakness to parallel his father's confusion. But Zod...

Zod's face shift it's way into a lurid grin of satisfaction.

"Father and son...In battle. Delicious."

Interlude One - Outside the Steel Wall:

An uneasy calm has come over the crowd, and the oak-haired, muscular man is one of the only ones still interested in the wall erected around the White House. While staring transfixed at its metallic sheen, he feels someone grab his shoulder.

"Hank?" He turns quickly, defensively, but the apprehension flushes from his face when he sees. "That is you, isn't it." The man is well-dressed, holding a pencil a pad of paper next to his sea-blue suit. His thin, lightly-featured face is joyful under blonde hair.

"Hank Hall, right? It's been so long! Remember me?"

Hank pauses to look at him. "...Of course. You're Dennis Rumden. We attended the same high school." He sounds indifferent.

"Uh -- Yeah. That's right. How've you been, man? Still hangin' around in D.C., I guess?"

Hank takes a look back at the tall steel barrier again. "When I have to, yes."

Dennis answers a question Hank didn't ask. "I haven't left since, to tell you the truth. Went to college, married Courtney -- You remember, from our senior year? I'm a reporter now, and--"

Dennis's explanation is ended when Hank spins back around. "Dennis, I honestly don't care what you've been doing. You're self-centered, ignorant, and you stole my girlfriend in high school only to marry her later. I'm a busy man." All the while, Dennis's face has a glazed over look, as though in a trance. Hank raises his hand. "So you're going to forget you ever even saw me." With the swiping of his hand, now glowing dimly, his decree is made, and Hank begins walking away.

Over his shoulder, he adds. "Oh -- And Courtney will be hit by a car in the next week. That's seven days...I'd tell you to try and guess which one, but you won't even remember you knew it until she's already gone."

Then he walks further and disappears, swallowed by the sea of faces and bodies surrounding the White House, an averagely handsome man simply there to see what's happening. Barely noticeable among all those present.

But someone else notices. A woman, pale, beautiful, with hair as soft and pure white as snow, watches on as Hank ventures into the masses.

Interlude Two - City of Silver:

"Wouldja look at that down there?"

"I know, Ollie..."

"Well?"

"What do you want to want to do, haunt them?"

"Those souls have a right to rest in peace, don't they, Jordan? They can't help it that some punk-jerk wants to confuse the Hell out of 'em and send 'em out against superheroes."

"...That's true."

"And who else would help 'em?"

"There's always him..."

"He lets that sorta thing handle itself. We see it happening right now. I don't like it, and I think if anyone can do anything about it, it's us."

The brown and white-haired man sighs. "Ollie, I'm tired. I know they need help, the League and the others, but....." He looks to his friend, whose mess of blonde hair hangs near deep green eyes. His goatee is sharp, like a knife. The look is enough.

"...Damn it, alright. I would've had to go anyway you had to make sure you keep out of trouble." He grins, and his friend slaps him on the back.

"There's the Hal Jordan I know! We just gotta make sure we don't get caught."

"Barry could be a help with stealth, but I don't think he'd be too into this, and neither would Linda...I'm not worried. If anything happens to us for that, it's worth it."

"You're damn straight it's worth it! It'll be just like old times, going across.....Actually, where do we go? I've heard there are a few places and a more than a few ways to get there..."

"...Someplace I got a glimpse of, Ollie. That's where the problem has to be..."

Two two green-clad friends peer over the edge of a sterling silver balcony to a flaming abyss worlds away...Yet dangerously close.

"Down there."

Hi. This is Kyle Rayner...Some of you might know me as Green Lantern. On the other hand, some of you might never even accept me by that name.

It doesn't really matter -- I've gotten used to it...Well, except for some of those guys on the DC message boards.....

Anyway, I'm not here for that. I'm here 'cause Will, the dude who's been pulling me and the JLA's strings for the past three issues, is pretty busy, from what I hear. So, being the caring, giving friend that I am, I said I'd answer his mail, at least for a while.

And lo and behold, the first letter we've got here is by a guy I call "Master"...That is, Russ Anderson, author of the best title ever, GREEN LANTERN!

"Will,

Re: JLA #1

And here we are. I called your Avengers run a "conscious departure" from what you'd been known for writing in the past, but this... this is the goods, m'friend. You're obviously much more comfortable with these characters than with Marvel's A-team, and it shows in every line. Great characterization, snappy dialogue, and interesting character interaction all around. I'm looking forward to reading #2 and finding out who makes the cut."

I think Will's a little more comfortable and knowledgeable with us JLAers...Don't ask me why though. With people like Superman, Martian Manhunter, and Batman on the team, I figured he'd be sorta nervous. Then again, he does have a lot of greener guys -- Pun not intended -- Like yours truly.

"Now for some specific points:

I know I get on you a lot about overblown narration, using bigger and more words than you have to in order to get a point across. There was almost none of that evident in this issue. The only time you came close to going overboard was the opening scene with the Flash, where you ALMOST over-explained and over-dramatized the little girl dropping her doll. But that's a minor gripe, and who's to say what's 'wrong' and what's just your own distinctive style? Don't let me stifle you, buddy, cause it sure didn't bother me much."

I'm all about artistic expression myself, Russ, I'm sure ya know, and I think Will goes off the deep end a little too much sometimes. He's doing sorta better, but if he gets out of line again, I don't want to be the one to tell him -- I've heard horror stories about what he can do to characters, and with the way my predecessor was handled.....

"As for the mysterious bad guy with eyes all over the place, my vote is for Dr. Evil (hey, the cat gives it away!). If not him, maybe Luthor (tho if that armor is the same armor I'm thinking of, it should set off Supes' warning bells, since he's seen it before--in issue #4 or #5 of the Man of Steel mini-series)."

Yeah, baby, yea-- Sorry. Really, I'm sorry. I seriously hate people who do Austin Powers impressions. The way things turned out, I guess Luthor's made some adjustments in the...Well, I dunno how long, with time paradoxes and all.

"Your Diana and Arthur interaction was brilliant. Diana's the only one who can bring out the human being in Aquaman, and you get this point across great."

Should I be concerned about Lois's sickness? I mean, if it wasn't just a flu bug, Supes could tell, couldn't he?"

Wonder Woman interacts pretty well with a lot of people, I think, but that Aquaman guy...I don't think anyone's sure about him. For a while I thought they might just throw down and fight, but after reading that, I wasn't sure either!

As far as I'm concerned, Supes can do anything, and even though I don't know who Lois is, I bet you could find out in SUPERMAN by that Dino Pollard weirdo.

"All in all, it's obvious you're having fun on this book in a way I haven't seen you have fun since the House of Magic series (and here's hoping we can get all the core titles up and running ASAP so we can see a return for that title at JLU). Keep up the great work, and I'll let you know what I think of subsequent issues as they appear.

Russ"

Don't really know about many houses either, but I guess that comes with the territory. I'm sure Will would want me to thank you for such a great letter -- And hey, he wrote us one too, buddy!

Now on to the last letter, this time from Des Davies, the very, very...Very lucky writer of WONDER WOMAN. Razzafrazza-commitment.....

"Will takes up the story immediately following DC's first four issues of its current JLA run. He even uses the same plotline as they used - a membership tryout.

I have no idea how DC handled this as I only bothered to read the first four issues. However, I fully enjoyed the way Will handled this. The primary focus of both issues was character interaction, both of the Magnificent 7 and the trialists. Have to say that this made the issues for me. Each of the characters was introduced to the readers without going through an hour long backstory. However, we got just enough to begin to get a feel for the heroes and their personalities. I also liked the series of tests and trials used and the battle at the end. Batman's comments to Wonder Woman about the combat test were worth the price of the issues alone."

With all these crazy gods and kids and maniacs running around -- Twelve of 'em, plus guests -- I bet Will sees character interaction up there with plot and all that good English stuff. I was thankful for the short explanations too, but those tests were pretty rough...Thank God I didn't have to do any.....

"The final choices for new members were logical and while I'm not going to reveal them, I will say that they will add more dimension to the team."

Something like that...Still, the masses have gotta be cryin': "Where's Connor?!?"

"I'm stretching for a complaint here, but I'd say that it would be that Will has set a very high standard for the rest of us to match up to with these two issues.

Don't miss this series.

Thanks,
Des"

Again with the praise! You know that only makes him want to write more and faster. I bet you guys will be reaching that standard, though...Especially with Wonder Woman. Will, I'm sure, thanks both Des and Russ very much for the reviews.

And for Russ: Will wanted me to tell you he's sorry he's using your character for such a goofy, stupid thing, but he said it probably wouldn't last more than a few issue and he promised he'd bring me back in perfect shape...And even clean me for free!

I just hope he doesn't turn on to writing me enough to dib the book.....*shudder*