Prolog:

Somewhere in San Francisco some time ago…

"Felix Faust, as I live and breathe!"

The man in the tuxedo stared down at the other at the table, his teeth sparkling brightly in the dim light as he smiled widely. His attire was immaculate, his suit pressed and sporting a white carnation in his lapel. His thick silver hair was slicked back and his long, thin mustache and goatee were waxed and curled with a delicate care. In the old days he had valued his appearance greatly. "The show was half the battle" he had used to say. He had fallen on hard times for awhile however, and had lingered with the wrong crowd for far too long. He had relied on trinkets and baubles to do for him what he had once done all on his own, and still did- at least for a little while longer.

The man seated at the table glanced up, then stared as though trying to focus through his bleary, red-rimmed eyes. His face was gaunt and haggard sporting a ragged stubble of beard and a straggly mop of unruly brown hair streaked with gray. Recognition seemed to sparkle in his eyes for a second before he returned his attention to his hands and the glass tumbler of thick red liquid that he cradled between them-

"Wizard?" he croaked, his voice low and raspy and barely heard over the sounds of the piano echoing throughout the club. "Slumming again?"

The Wizard held his smile in place as he looked his old friend over from head to toe. Faust had never been a fashion plate, and the Wizard had always found the man's usual attire somewhat gaudy and effeminate, even though they were the robes of his order and station. Now however, as the Wizard eyed his old rival he thought that the man had never looked worse. He was wearing an old ratty woolen suit, stained and threadbare. There were rips in the lapel and at the cuffs and the breast pocket was completely torn away. His once white shirt beneath was almost yellow, from cigarette smoke and sweat he thought by the odor that clung to the man. He looked and smelled unwashed, and by the looks of him the Wizard thought that Felix Faust must have been one of the city's homeless for weeks, if not months. Still, the Wizard smiled and swallowed any retort as he gestured at the chair opposite Faust-

"May I?" he asked, and took a seat as Faust grudgingly nodded with a shrug. He flicked at a few crumbs dotting the red and white checkered cloth covering the table as he glanced around the club, looking for a waitress.

The club- Bewitched - was vast, a spatial anomaly. It appeared far larger from within than its simplistic outer façade belied. It had been built in the Twenties, a warehouse that had been converted into a Speak Easy during the days of Prohibition. It was said that the original owner had been Crowley, the Great Beast, but he had sold it long ago to other less public figures that had imbued the building with magicks of its own. There were wards and masques, glimmers to keep out the prying eyes of the 'Masked' community that was growing in leaps and bounds. The outside of the building looked like any other, rundown and dilapidated with only a cracked and fading sign hanging over the entry to mark its significance. Within, however, was another world…

Inside the walls, the building seemingly ceased to exist. A grand hall stood just within the door with high vaulted ceilings and walls that seemed to endlessly arch and twist. Shifting lights swirled across the walls in a myriad of colors, like clouds rolling across the sky. Candles flickered upon a hundred hundred tables, dancing flames dwindling away into the mists that enshrouded the corners of the room. Energy drifted through the air like balloons, great globs of pulsing mystical power loosed as decoration in arrogant display. Things flitted about, too small and fast to truly be seen. Something swelled under the warm floorboards, breathing almost and rumbling with a pulse. There was a low din of hushed whispers rising from the fifty odd patrons that had any reason to speak, and above all that was the sharp staccato tapping of a piano not quite in tune with its melody.

The Wizard sighed and sat higher in his seat, finally waving at a scantily clad woman carrying an empty tray. She frowned but nodded, and the Wizard settled in to return his attention to Faust.

"So, Felix… How have you been, old man?"

Faust glanced up with a frown. It was obvious that he was not in the mood for conversation, but he had allowed the Wizard to sit and was thus trapped by the laws of decorum. "How does it look like I've been?"

The Wizard smirked. "Truthfully, you look as though you've seen better days."

Faust shrugged and grunted. He slowly turned the glass between his hands, watching as the dark liquid within swirled and sparkled reflecting the dim flashing lights of the club. "We all have, Wizard." Faust sighed then swallowed down the last of his drink even as the waitress finally made her way to their table.

She was comely to be sure, dressed in leathers that clung to her hips and revealed most of her skin, leaving little to the imagination. Her fiery red hair was pinned back into a bun, a few loose strands dangling down and framing her slim, angular face. Her skin was white- almost the color of chalk, but slick and shining. A forked tongue slithered through her black painted lips as she smiled, her fanged teeth gleaming as she appraised Faust and his 'guest'.

"The Wizard!" she hissed, bending to wipe away at the checkered tablecloth with a damp rag. The Wizard stared at the woman's huge pale breasts as she leaned towards him, wondering how they stayed trapped within the tiny, straining bustier she wore.

"L-Lady Magdala? I almost didn't recognize you. What brings you out of the Infernal Depths? Lesser devils getting on your nerves again?"

The waitress shrugged, flipping her towel over her shoulder and withdrawing a pad and pen from a small pouch at her belt. "Jussst bored, Wizard. I needed a bit of a break while my legionsss regrouped." She smiled. "Besidesss… I like working here. One picksss up the mossst deliciousss gosssip. Now, what will you have?"

The Wizard settled back, crossing his legs beneath the table. "A white wine spritzer for myself, Madame, and whatever my friend here will have as well. Something other than that vile concoction he's been nursing though. It leaves a rather odiferous after smell."

Magdala nodded as she jotted down the Wizard's order. "You get what you pay for, Wizard. Dear Felix is lucky that Raphael pitiesss him, or The Troll would have tosssed him out on his asss long ago."

The Wizard glanced at Faust and saw anger spark in his eyes as he stared daggers at the Queen of the Lesser Devils. She smirked, almost daring the sorcerer to do something. As quickly as it came however the anger faded and Faust sagged back into his chair. He stared at the empty glass in his hands-

"Vodka! A double." The waitress nodded and with a parting smile to the Wizard turned on her heel and sauntered away. The Wizard watched her swinging hips and flicking tail until she vanished into the crowd, then turned back to his associate.

"Truly, Faust, you look like hell. What happened to you?"

"What else? The Justice League!" The Wizard heard the disgust in his friend's voice and nodded in understanding. Such was the bane of he and all of his ilk. The Justice League of America, Captain Comet, Zatara, the list seemed endless sometimes.

"I should have known. I've crossed paths with the League more times than I care to count. And before them it was the Justice Society. Seems there's always some do-gooder about trying to spoil our plans, eh?" Faust nodded in agreement but said nothing as the waitress returned and set two glasses on the table before the men.

"Thisss on tab, Wizard?" she asked, expecting the usual response. The Wizard chuckled-

"Certainly not, my dear." The magician pulled a thick wad of bills from his coat pocket and removed a golden clip that held them secure. He peeled off five hundreds from the stack and handed them to the startled immortal. "This should pay my past bill in full, dear Magdala, and cover tonight's expenses. Keep whatever's left for yourself, dear lady. You're looking somewhat paler than usual. Perhaps there will be enough to pay for a trip to a warmer locale where you might get some sun."

The woman sneered but accepted the money nonetheless, slipping it down between her breasts. She recited the required spiel by rote before sashaying back into the crowd, leaving the men alone and wanting.

The Wizard almost laughed to see Faust's eyes huge, following his movements as he returned his money to the security of his jacket. The Wizard sipped at his spritzer then, eyeing his associate- measuring him. He seemed ready.

"An illusion, Wizard? What was it you gave that bitch anyway? Newsprint with a glimmer on it? Morphed toilet paper?" Faust scoffed with a chuckle. The Wizard noted that the man's spirits had risen slightly. He had taken the bait, almost gagging on the hook. All that was left was to reel him in.

"Not an illusion of any kind, old man. I've always been better at investing my finances than most of our compatriots. My limited abilities of clairvoyance have helped, of course, but recently my luck has changed for the better."

"How so?" Felix Faust looked dubious now as he took a quick sip of his drink. He shivered as the alcohol burned its way down his throat, but smiled at the feeling as his body warmed.

"It started shortly after my stint with the Secret Society of Super-Villains. I'm sure you must remember that rag-tag crew?"

"How could I forget? That was the one time that I was not voted 'Second Worst Dressed Villain' by our peers, but third after you." Faust chuckled and the Wizard had to smile remembering those simpler times.

"My uniform was assembled out of necessity Faust, but I assure you that I will never infringe on the distinction held by you and the Quilt King again. Agreed?" The two men laughed- real laughter- and the dark mood at the table finally began to lift like an early morning fog.

"After that debacle," the Wizard continued, "after I had lost control of the Sorcerer's Power Glove, Mystical Prism and Cloak of Invisibility I found myself in dire straits. My powers had been waning before I gathered those mystic artifacts, and once I had lost them I found that they had failed me altogether. I was left with just a spritz of stage magic and simple prestidigitation. Little more than I had when I was but a simple performer in Vaudeville. Oh, there were sporadic bursts when I thought that my abilities had returned, like during the time of the Crisis, but after such events ended, so to did my powers once again. I took to the Circuit again, playing the clubs to make ends meet and keep food in my belly for the pittance the audience chose to throw at me. I was living on the streets and in shelters, eating in soup kitchens and walking for the most part from city to city. I was cold and hungry, Faust, but I truly did not know just how destitute until I returned to New York City.

"I was playing the fountain in Washington Square Park one sunny Sunday, doing card tricks for a few nickels and dimes that the tourists deigned to throw my way. I was sweating like a pig, you know how New York gets, and I was just about to call it a day when the crowd surged and started to run past me. Screams pierced the air as blasts of energy erupted along Fifth Avenue heading my way. I looked up and saw the Titan- Starfire- flying my direction and blasting the ground with those energy bolts of hers. Foolishly, old habits die hard and I thought for a brief moment that she was after me. I raised my hands to cast a spell-

"And took a flying disk in the jaw. Nightwing was there, and apparently he had recognized me and took me out of the fight before I could even get into it. Little realizing, even as I had momentarily forgotten in the heat of the moment, that I was powerless. Within moments they were all around me; Starfire and Nightwing along with Troia, Cyborg and that green-skinned whelp, Beast Boy! As it turned out however, they were not after me at all. They were fighting some fool in a powered armor suit- a member of the HIVE, I believe. He was blasting at them with his own energies, fighting a running battle it appeared. He never stood a chance.

"I watched as the Titans herded him in my direction, deeming it safe enough as a battle field with all of the spectators safely out of harm's way. I was the only one left, and apparently Nightwing had considered me expendable as he ordered the others to open up as their prey crossed into the fountain where I was laying in a dazed stupor. I saw a brilliant burst of energy as Starfire and Cyborg struck the poor fool in unison. It was deafening, and beautiful I must add, but horrible as well. The man's armored suit ripped open like tissue paper as he was assaulted, his power source exploding in the process. I heard his screams even over Cyborg's blast of white-hot sound and the rending metal of his armor. He tumbled overhead, a graceful rag doll tossed aside by a bored child, only to come crashing down almost on top of me!"

"Good Lord!" Faust exclaimed, mesmerized by the Wizard's tale. "What did you do?"

"I wet my pants, Faust! I was too stunned to move and saw several tons of armored assassin about to land on me. I screamed like a little girl and soiled myself, and I dare say you would have done the same in my shoes." Faust seemed about to protest, then decided against it and downed his drink instead, eager to hear more.

"Luck was finally on my side again, for the man crashed down just beside me. My body shivered as sparks flew from the gaping wound in his side, and I could smell the distinct odor of charred flesh. To his credit, the man tried to rise, but even as he pushed his bulk up on his thick arms Troia came smashing down on his back. He slammed into the ground, cracking the concrete foundation of the fountain as bits and pieces of his armor flew off with the impact. Fear had made my wits come creeping back by then, and I spied a small box that came bouncing my way even as Troia planted her feet on either side of my body. I am a prestidigitator at heart however, and sleight of hand was always my best gimmick. I slipped my hand over the small box and palmed it just as the triumphant Titans gathered about their foe.

"There was little left for them to do but clean up their mess, however. Troia actually glanced down to see if I was alive and unhurt before joining Cyborg in collecting their foe. It was Nightwing and that alien girl that finally hauled me to my feet. Starfire was pawing at the man as he eyed me and finally let me go after a few questions. Even in my bedraggled state he had recognized me, and apparently realized that there were no outstanding warrants on me as well- a little spell of insurance that I had set up long ago to wipe my criminal record every few months. I humbly thanked him for his generosity and shambled off, playing the fool until I was well out of their sight and they were involved with the police."

"What was in the box?" Faust asked excitedly, licking his lips in anticipation. He knew that the story was leading somewhere, and he was impatient for it to reach its climax. The Wizard smiled, gesturing for his friend to relax as he reached again into his jacket. He withdrew his hand and extended his fists as though wishing Faust to tap one of his choice. The sorcerer looked dubious at first, but then did. The Wizard opened his hand palm up to reveal a small blue stone. Faust gasped-

"Is it? Is it-" The Wizard nodded-

"It is!"

"A Luck Stone of Bel, God of Thieves!"

Faust's eyes grew huge as he stared at the tiny blue stone. He marveled at the smoothness of the rock, the way it seemed to glow in the gloved palm of the magician. It was barely the size of a marble, and contained no real power within, but Faust knew that it was one of a set of seven of the most powerful little baubles on the planet. The Luck Stone's of Bel were reportedly believed to be from the age of Atlantis, when sorcerers and wizards walked the land. Bel was one of the gods then, worshipped by thieves among others and his Stones were coveted items of mystical potency. It was believed that even one of the seven Stones would grant the barer luck for a time of seven instances. Possessing all seven of the Luck Stones granted the holder wealth and power beyond his imagining. And here was one of those Stones in the outstretched palm of the Wizard, just inches from the sweaty, grasping hands of Felix Faust!

The Wizard grinned watching as Faust lusted over the stone. He knew that the sorcerer knew just what the stone was and what it could do for him. The Wizard hoped however that Faust did not know those things that he had only recently learned. Faust's magic did stem from his knowledge of the arcane lore after all. It was not outside the realm of possibility that he knew more about the Luck Stones than the Wizard did himself. The Wizard bluffed, playing his hand-

"You recognize my little bauble then? You know the legends?"

Faust nodded- "As much as anyone else in this age. Seven lucky turns of fate for the one possessing a Stone. That explains your appearance I suppose. Luck has been on your side?"

"Indeed." The Wizard agreed with a nod as he peered into the stone held now between finger and thumb. He had to appear benevolent lest Faust suspect. "The Luck Stone has turned my life around, my friend. It has restored my waning powers through circumstance and rebuilt my fortunes. I am now richer than ever, and at least as powerful as I was in my prime. However, as legend states- demands- I have spent my seven chances and now must freely pass on the Stone to another in need. I came here to Bewitched tonight, hoping to find someone that I liked well enough among our society- someone who not only needed- but deserved what the Stone had to offer. Good fortune smiled upon us both this night, my friend. Perhaps a freebie from the Stone itself, for I found you."

"Me?" Faust whispered, licking his lips and rubbing his sweating palms on the legs of his trousers. The Wizard could see that the man was almost trembling with desire. It was perfect.

"Who better, Felix? You are down and out of luck. You've reached the lowest point in your long life I suspect. Who deserves this Stone more than you?"

Felix Faust reached out as though to snatch the stone from the Wizard's hand, then hesitated. He eyed the other magician with suspicion-

"What do you expect in return, Wizard? There must be a price!" The Wizard shook his head-

"A gift freely given, Felix, with nothing asked in return save your own good fortune. That's how the legends go, and as the rules of etiquette state. My own generosity is reward enough as your circumstances change for the better."

Faust smiled widely and, in a flash, snatched the stone from the Wizard's hand. He held it up to the swirling lights for just a moment, peering into the azure depths of the jewel, then just as quickly secreted it within the folds of his jacket. He glanced about to see if anyone had noticed, but no one seemed to be paying him any mind at all. He smiled again.

"I thank you Wizard, as etiquette dictates. Your gift given freely is well accepted and valued." Faust stood and gave a slight bow and both men laughed again.

"God I hate all of that."

"A necessity, Faust. You know that. If one does not follow the rules, society will crumble into chaos." The Wizard sipped down the last of his wine, watching as Faust started to fidget and eye the door. "Go, my friend. With my good graces! Luck be with you."

Faust licked his lips one more time then nodded. Without another word he spun about and headed for the door, trying not to hurry. The Wizard watched as his old rival wormed his way through the crowd all the while trying to seem inconspicuous. In moments he was out the door and gone.

The Wizard leaned back in his chair again and smirked. He was lucky that Faust did not know the entire legend of the Stones or perhaps he would not have been quite so anxious to accept the gift. The Wizard reached into his breast pocket again and pulled out a small leather bag. He undid the slender drawstring on the pouch and upended it, letting the contents fall into the palm of his hand. It was another small stone, almost identical to the first in size and shape, but it was red. It was also glowing. The Wizard laughed-

"Yes, luck be with you, Felix Faust! For if luck is with you, then it will surely be with me as well my dim-witted friend!"

The Wizard laughed again as he replaced the second Luck Stone back in its pouch and slipped that back into his jacket. He looked about for Magdala again and waved her over. Being devious was such thirsty work…

	The World's Greatest Superheroes..... UNLUCKY NUMBERS Part 1: The Luck of Felix Faust
JLA #7 - July, Year 1	by Curt Fernlund

The Watchtower:

The Batman watched silently as the monitor screens flickered and flashed all around him. The images changed, fading from one to another almost too fast to follow. Images from around the world, intercepted by the Justice League's Sensory Array, designed for the very purpose of catching every transmission sent from the Earth to its orbiting satellites along the entire audio-visual spectrum and beyond. There were dozens of monitors varying in size and shape and mounted all along the central core chamber of the Watchtower's Communications Hub. The monitors in turn transferred their individual feeds into three-dimensional holographic images for convenient viewing, filtering transmissions from around the world, eliminating advertisements and entertainment and focusing on newsworthy media events. There were at least thirteen screens devoted to live broadcasts of CNN at any one time from the four corners of the globe. Other monitors were trained on Headline News, and the greater news feeds of the major networks like the BBC, WGBS and LexCorp World News. The rest of the media feeds shifted between more localized station transmissions, the Tower's computers determining what breaking story took precedent.

The suspensor chair floated along the shaft of the Womb, spiraling to view the Tower's computer-generated assessment of the most prevalent news story of the moment. The chair made no noise as it moved within its null field- an area of localized zero gravity contained within a low-level force field designed from a more primitive Martian technology. The field did not impair movement of whoever rode the chair. Sound and oxygen were unaffected as the host seat shifted through the Womb; actually phasing through the holographic images that played throughout the chamber. It was somewhat disconcerting at first, but the Batman leaned back, actually relaxing as he made a mental note of everything he saw and heard during the cyclic, repetitive ride.

It was peaceful in the Womb, and not for the first time the Batman reflected on the appropriate name. The flickering holographic images were almost hypnotic in the dim lighting. With the sound muted pending disaster, there was only the soft hum of distant machinery to distract him. Of the thirteen currently active members of the League, the Batman was the only one who almost enjoyed his time on monitor duty. The younger members found the job boring, and the likes of Superman and J'onn J'onzz were far too involved in their missions to relax. Even O'Brian, who had recently been a semi-resident at the Watchtower and had taken on the greatest share of the duty, was far too hyperactive to appreciate what the Womb had to offer; time to think. Plastic Man had his own life again now, however, and living back in his hometown of Chicago which put most of the League back into the monitor rotation, which was fine with Batman.

Like most of the original members of the current incarnation of the Justice League, the Batman usually had a full schedule in his private matters to attend to. It was a rare occasion when he did not have to defer his monitor time to one of the other members, so when he actually had the free time to spend in the Womb he made the best of it. The Womb offered the seclusion that his own Bat Cave did not always have. He had included too many players into his own team of protectors in Gotham City of late, and it seemed that one or more of them always needed his advice or assistance. The Cave was highly sophisticated- the best that a normal man could construct, but it was like a hand calculator when compared to the advanced technology of the Womb and the Watchtower itself. There were no unwarranted interruptions here; no sarcastic butlers nor over-achieving sidekicks. There was only the Batman and the world spinning past on mute.

His mind sifted through memories of his recent cases as he watched a broadcast from CNN Moscow. The Russians were touting a new Meta Team of their own in answer to the Justice League's still new reformation. It was a strikeforce of four calling itself Red Square, members including a redesigned Rocket Red, an armored male warrior sporting a golden hammer and sickle and calling himself Born, a woman named Mysta with an old Teen Titans ally, Red Star leading the group. Batman watched the military footage provided by the Russian government, showing the team running through a series of training exercises, then transferred the data to the computer's archives when the feed ended. He made a mental note to forward the information to Oracle out of habit, then reconsidered.

His own database was run and organized by Barbara Gordon, formerly Batgirl and now known as Oracle. There were few that knew her true identity- as per the Batman's wishes if not fully her own- and she appeared to everyone as a computer generated 'talking head' ala the Wizard of Oz meets Max Headroom. Her allusion, not the Batman's. Of late however, she had been making mistakes, thus his hesitancy on relaying information to her from the Watchtower. She had limited access to the Tower's files on a network T-One Ether Line, as well as the Bat Cave, but her own morals had always kept her out of restricted areas within either memory storage banks. The Batman had to wonder if perhaps her morals were slipping away.

The Batman's attention shifted to a referral from Aquaman. He was finally answering a mundane status summons. His voice was harsh, and he looked tired, but before the Batman could intercept the transmission the King of Atlantis cut the message off. He was obviously involved deeply in affairs of state, personal affairs like the others. Green Lantern was actually in California according to his last message, but was unavailable for personal reasons, as was the Flash who was dealing with some personal crisis with the aid of Power Girl and Jay Garrick- the original Flash. Wonder Woman was in Gateway City at her last message but unavailable, and Superman was always busy in Metropolis. How the Kryptonian found the time to be in the League was sometimes a mystery that even the Batman could not resolve. But he was Superman, and apparently that explained everything. Of the original seven members, only J'onn J'onzz was currently on the moon and semi-available. He was in his quarters, meditating- the Martian equivalent of sleep. As a Martian, he did not require sleep per se, but he did need down time as a telepath. Once a week J'onzz asked for a few hours uninterrupted save for the worst catastrophes, so that he could sift through all of the mental garbage that accumulated in his mind over time. As a telepath, his mind was always receiving background mental noise from those around him, as humans did not have the ability to control their surface thoughts as the Martians had. Thus J'onzz was constantly bombarded with stray thoughts that accumulated within his consciousness, despite his own mental shields. He needed time occasionally to purge those stray thoughts lest he go mad from the excessive mental chatter.

Only the Batman, of the original seven, was not fully occupied at present. His recent activities concerning Bane and Catwoman were on hold, and only the rumors of the Joker's return to Gotham distracted him from monitor duty. The Clown Prince of Crime had not asserted himself enough as yet to locate, however, and the Batman could do nothing but wait for his next move. He suspected that perhaps the Joker was the reason for Oracle's recent fault. He was, after all, the one that had crippled Barbara Gordon- almost killing her in the process. As he had killed Jason Todd not so long ago. As he had killed hundreds of others…

Batman glanced to his right, spinning the chair about as an image caught his eye-

"Monitor Seventeen replay last feed back thirty-two seconds!" His hand adjusted the manual controls of the suspensor chair to bring it about and before the holographic image displayed by Monitor 17. He turned off the 'mute' button, adjusting the volume even as the images flickered and slowed in reverse, then started up again. It was a recent feed from Sacramento, California- black and white images of a bank robbery.

The images were fuzzy and still, digital photographs taken at three-second intervals, but despite their grainy, soundless quality they said enough. The Batman watched as seven men entered a First Interstate Bank on the outskirts of the city and proceeded to rob the institution. Six of the men were masked and carrying guns of various design- hired West Coast muscle no doubt. It was the image of the seventh man that had caught the Batman's attention however-

"Computer! Enhance Monitor 17, focus and zoom, X-27 by Y-34, five times!"

Batman watched as the holographic images swirled and changed, zeroing in on the quadrant specified. The seventh man's body grew, growing blurred then coming into focus as the computer adjusted the angle of the shot. Slowly the man's face filled the screen, and the Batman leaned forward as the camera froze on the image staring out of the monitor. He was not wearing his usual garb of gaudy flowing robes and coned helmet, and his face was sporting the stubble of a thin beard which had been just enough of a disguise for the Batman to miss the original broadcast. He was thin to the point of gaunt, and his mouth was twisted in the act of speaking some word that Batman would later identify as Latin. Coupled with the fact that it was Sacramento, it was just enough to almost slip by the Dark Knight's wandering attention. Almost-

"Faust!"

"Computer! Proceed Monitor 17 at current status and loop. Link Monitor 18 with Monitor 17 at original settings and loop. Collate all historical data; subject Faust, Felix and transfer to Monitor 38. Mute and run!"

The Batman watched, his attention divided between two displays as Faust and his accomplices proceeded to rob the bank. It seemed a fairly smooth job as the seven men entered unobstructed and scattered about the main floor. One man rammed the butt of his machine rifle into the stomach of the aged security guard as he fumbled with his pistol, which appeared stuck in the holster. A second assailant sprayed the wall with a line of bullets that apparently shorted out the building's internal security system as well as the alarms linked to the Sacramento Police Department. Faust, for his part, cast a spell that disrupted the monitors within the bank after a thirty-two second feed. The remainder of the tape was interviews by the local news station with the officer in charge of the case as well as some of the bystanders caught within the bank at the time. The FBI would be called in of course, but they would eventually turn the case over to the Department of Meta Affairs once they learned that Felix Faust was involved. They in turn would finally call in the JLA.

The Batman watched the feed over and over from every available angle. He focused the view on each member of Faust's gang as well as the man himself, recording each. He had the computer track the facial movements of each of the gang as well as the victims, eventually overlaying a closed-captioned script of the entire incident with only two minor gaps. He zeroed in on the assault on the guard, noting that the strap on the man's holster seemed stuck as he tried to draw his gun. The man that riddled the wall with bullets seemed to be randomly shooting more for the fearful effect than to disable the alarms. Coincidence? The Batman was not so sure. Upon investigating Faust's historical files he found no cases so mundane as to the man being involved in robbing a bank. All of his endeavors involved 'magic' in some way, or at least that version of the Metagene that people thought was magic. Still, the Batman had to assume that Faust- like anyone- needed money, and since he was a villain at heart had decided to acquire it by illegal means.

According to the computer files, Faust had not been seen in months except for random images captured on various traffic cameras situated throughout the country. He had apparently reformed in the past, actually abandoning his life of crime on several occasions, and most recently because his 'arcane' based powers seemed to be fading, at least according to Doctor Fate. He had been lying low and even applied for government assistance two months prior though he had been turned down due to his lack of permanent residence. He was destitute and homeless, apparently, at least according to the system. The Batman was not so sure.

After organizing and reviewing the Faust Files, the Batman directed his attention to the next likely spot that Faust might target. There were several images of him taken by traffic cams in the Bay Area, but it seemed that he was moving north. The logical step would be to follow Interstate 5 up through California and Oregon as that was the way his current path seemed directed. Batman brought up a map of California and the entire West Coast and marked logical targets that Faust might strike if he was trying to gather funds; Redding, Yreka, Medford, Eugene, all the way up to Seattle. Batman thought however that Faust would end his spree somewhere south of Washington state, as Green Arrow had made his home in Seattle, and the Black Canary still held residence there.

There was little left to do but forward the information to the available members and put them on alert. Batman called Plastic Man, who was already on the Watchtower, and relayed the feed to his base-room monitor, then sent the message out to the others. Within minutes he received answers from the newer members recently inducted into the League. Dinah Lance- the Black Canary had already seen the newscast via satellite and was ready to join the hunt. Ray Palmer- the Atom- was involved in an experiment with his old, one-time associates at Ivy University and was unavailable at present unless the situation became hazardous. The Red Tornado replied that he was en route to the area under his own means from Colorado, as would be Firestorm after he tied up some loose ends. Zatanna already had an apartment based in San Francisco, though she had recently been staying at Kyle Rayner's apartment for reasons of her own, so it was there that the Batman would head as soon as he set the Womb on automatic to alert J'onn J'onzz of any impending disaster. He hated to interrupt the Martian's meditation, as he knew that it was important, but there was no choice really. The newer members of the League were all veterans, but they had not had the opportunity to mesh as a group. They needed leadership that only the Batman could provide at the moment.

Within moments the Batman met up with Plastic Man in the Transport Chamber. They would teleport to San Francisco where a receiving platform was stationed, then make their way with Zatanna to Sacramento as soon as she arrived, and then to Redding where the others would meet them within two hours if all went well. By then the Batman hoped to have a lead on Faust, his whereabouts, as well as his plans…

Ashland, Oregon:
Some Time later…

Felix Faust sprawled on the hard bed counting his money again. It had been some time since he had had any money to count beyond the nickels and dimes that he was able to scrounge on the streets. Now he was lying amidst roughly $80,000, his share of the Sacramento bank job. It was incredible- incredibly lucky!

It had cost him his third calling on the Stone, but in the end it had been worth it. The Luck of Bel had insured that the robbing of the bank had gone off without a hitch. He had used the Stone as soon as he and his gang had entered the bank and immediately felt the arcane powers of the Luck Stone as it had gone to work. It was his good luck that the bank guard's gun had been trapped in its holster, the safety strap jammed, preventing the aging guard from drawing his weapon at a crucial moment. It had been good fortune as well that his trigger-happy flunky had sprayed the wall with bullets and not hit anyone but rather shorted out the bank's security system and alarms wired within the walls. Finally Dame Fortune had indeed smiled on them all when they found each of the teller's drawers literally filled to overflowing when they had attacked. It seemed that a computer glitch had delayed the usual money pick up, and it was simply dumb luck that Faust and his gang had attacked when they had. Dumb luck to the tune of almost $500,000.

Felix Faust wondered why he had never taken to robbing banks before. It seemed simple enough, but of course as he thought of it he realized the answer straight away. The same answer that always came up, no matter what he tried to accomplish-

The Justice League!

His good mood diminishing quickly at the thought of his foes, Faust scooped up his money into piles and quickly deposited it back into a backpack he had purchased to carry it all. He had quickly traveled north after splitting the money with his hired thugs, riding a Gray Hound from Sacramento all the way to Ashland, Oregon like a common person. It had been the most grueling ten hours of his life sitting side by side with the unwashed, watching their children run up and down the aisle of the bus and screaming at the top of their lungs. He had thought long and hard about renting a car in Redding, but realized that he would need both a license and a credit card to do so and he had neither. Certainly he could probably magic up all the false ID that he might need, but that would mark his whereabouts as quickly as a credit card would though in different circles. He had decided to grit his teeth and continue on the bus in the end. He had paid cash for his ticket, no questions asked, and he doubted that anyone would remember him at the busy Sacramento bus terminal.

He had gotten a room at the Marc Anthony Hotel upon his arrival in Ashland and had immediately gone about the slow task of setting up a few mystic shields to hide his presence. Just a bit paranoid, he set wards on the door and laid a circle in the main room around the bed to protect his thoughts while he slept. They were nothing truly protective, rather they would alert him should anyone come near who might detect his arcane abilities. He knew that Zatanna had rejoined the League recently, and there was always Doctor Fate as well. And god knew when the Spectre might decide to pop up seeking vengeance! Too, there was the Martian Manhunter. Faust imagined having him and the League crashing in on him while he slept, while he was dreaming of the money that he had stolen.

Felix Faust tried to force the images of him in jail from his mind and turned on the television. He was not tired enough to sleep as yet, despite the grueling bus ride and the richly expensive dinner he had eaten in the hotel's dining room. He felt bloated and lazy but not sleepy and he had time to kill.

He had not chosen Ashland randomly as a hiding place but had rather come there with a purpose. Ashland was a small town that catered to the artsy set for the most part. The main street was lined with dozens of small shops that sold trinkets and curiosities, little trivialities to catch the eye of tourists. There were tourists because the city's main attraction (outside of a college and a vast, wooded park) was the annual Southern Oregon Shakespearean Festival, which was world-renowned. Faust himself had attended on occasion, back when times were better. He had seen Mac Beth one time, and a splendid rendition of Dracula years before, which was not Shakespeare but still quite intriguing.

Ashland, Oregon was also a stop on the circuit frequented by the denizens of the shadow society that he inhabited. The entire western coast of North America in fact- following the San Andreas Fault to its uppermost reaches was littered with spots of power like the Ley Lines in Europe. San Francisco was the strongest point of power in the arch, but there were other spots- like Ashland- where the night people gathered. There was a bar called the Boar's Head that was almost as popular as Bewitched in the city by the bay with the arcane. Every Halloween as well, the city held one of the grandest parades in the country, though not as well-known as those in Manhattan or San Francisco. It was more a street fair than a parade really, but it drew as many of his people as its counterpart in Rutland, Vermont, and more every year. And there was the Brass Rubbing Centre-

To the tourists it was just a quaint little shop reminiscent of the stores that littered any small European village. They sold trinkets and curiosities like most of the stores in Ashland, catering to the Shakespearean crowd, at least in the public eye. For those in the know however, the Brass Rubbing Centre also delved in the sale of more unique items. From the back room and basement they sold powders and potions, books and scrolls and artifacts of a bygone era. They were a trading post of all things arcane and well known in the shadow society that Faust was a part of. It was there that Felix Faust was bound on the morrow, his money in hand and hope alive in his heart. He would have the Luck Stone as well, and would use his fourth calling if he had too, having already proven the Stone's powers at the bank and twice before that.

He had used the Stone to find his gang for the robbery, choosing a seedy bar on what was once the Barbary Coast in hopes of finding a few men desperate enough to follow him. To believe in him, if just for a little while. The Stone had come through as he had found a group of thugs for hire that worked together and were willing to follow him on a quick score. Even better they had heard of him and somehow had respect that he had fought the Justice League in the past. It did not seem to matter that Faust had been defeated time and again. It was enough that he had been willing to try, and they were ready to follow his lead. Luck was with Faust when he learned that the men were well equipped with guns and vehicles as well. All that they had needed it seemed was a plan, and as luck would have it Faust had one.

Before that he had tested the power of the Luck Stone at random, not quite convinced totally of the Wizard's generosity. They had been rivals for a time, after all. He had been impatient and had called on the power of the stone just blocks after leaving Bewitched that night. The Luck Stone of Bel had glowed a deep blue, radiating light even through his closed fist as Faust stood on a dirty corner in the dark expectantly, waiting for something to happen. He had waited ten, fifteen minutes and then thirty before he started the long walk back to the shelter in disgust. He had felt foolish for believing the Wizard, and half expected to fall over crippled from whatever the magician had spiked his vodka with. Nothing was free! He should have known…

He had found the wallet just a few blocks later sitting in the middle of the sidewalk plain as day. Faust could not believe his luck as, when he picked up the wallet of rich calf leather and faded into the shadowy corners to inspect the contents, he had found almost $500. Not a fortune by any means, but more than enough to get a room; a real room with a shower and a decent meal at a real restaurant that served more than soup and stale bread. Best of all he would not have to listen to anyone preaching against the sins of drugs and alcohol, or about the benefits of God. It was fantastic! A miracle! And if he had had any doubts about the Wizard and his stone at that point they quickly evaporated.

Now he waited with a full belly and a confidence he had not known in years. Jay Leno was on the television, which meant that he had a little under twelve hours to wait for the Brass Rubbing Centre to open for business the next day. He planned to arrive early and peruse the shop. He did not really know what he was looking for, or what he expected to find, but if nothing leapt out at him he would use the Stone. If luck was with him, something would come to mind…

NEXT ISSUE: Will the Batman gather his team in time? Or will Felix Faust find what he is looking for and count his lucky stars? And who might that new member be? Come back soon to learn the answers…

Send Reviews, Comments, and Other Mail to Curtis Fernlund