"!deneppah tahw em wohS !yalper emiT"

Zatanna watched silently as the dim light in the bank swirled and flickered. She saw flashes of images, men with guns lording over those that had been caught in the bank when Faust and his hired help had stormed in and robbed the place. Light flashed, and red streams of light went streaming into the wall! An old man in a uniform was beaten down simply for doing his job! People cowered in fear…

She saw Felix Faust step before one of the bank's security cameras and gesture. She read on his lips the word of power; old magic that old sorcerers used. She did not know the word, but she understood the meaning. A second later and sparks flared. The images died.

Zatanna opened her mind, her senses to what went before. She could feel Faust and the powers he had used. Some were his, low and weak. And there was something else. Something that she did not recognize. It was old, she could tell, but it was beyond her abilities to determine what it was. The magic was… different.

She glanced at the Batman, standing aside in the shadows, out of the way and thinking his own thoughts. She would have to tell him what she was finding, eventually, even though she knew what his response would be. He did not believe in magic, in the supernatural. Despite his dealings with the likes of Deadman and the Phantom Stranger, even his dealings with her when she had been a member of the League. Batman was a man of science, and nothing would sway him- though not for lack of trying.

Zatanna sighed, then stood straight and tall. She straightened the lapel on her tuxedo jacket and settled her top hat back from her brow. Despite the Batman's lack of faith, she would have to convince him. She knew what she was doing, or she would never have been invited back, accepted. She was needed, back in the spotlight…

She was back in…

	The World's Greatest Superheroes..... UNLUCKY NUMBERS Part 2: Seven the Hard Way
JLA #8 - August, Year 1	by Curt Fernlund

Sacramento, California:
Not long after…

Zatanna, daughter of the great Zatara strolled the perimeter of the main hall of the First Interstate Bank. Her high-heeled shoes clicked on the cold, tiled floor with every step she took, her long legs making slow steady strides as she made her way around the room. She looked everywhere without really seeing; her eyes focused on something that was not there for normal men to see. She ignored the chill in the air despite her skimpy stage attire; the upper half of a tuxedo tails and shirt, top hat and tights with fishnet stockings below. She blocked out the rattle of the building's air conditioning, listening instead to the whisper on the wind and the faint cry of things that had been left behind.

The Batman watched her from the shadows as she made her circuit, trying not to move as she had requested, trying to stay out of her way. He had made his own circuit of the bank's interior as soon as they had arrived. The local police had given them the access that they had needed, as they were Justice League after all, and even if the Batman preferred to keep a low profile, Zatanna was more than willing to let Sacramento PD know that she was on the job.

He had found nothing more than he had expected. There were shell casings from the bullets that had been fired, a few markings on the tiled floor from hurried, cautious footsteps. He had found a bit of cloth snagged on one of the teller's windows- nothing too incriminating, but it was enough. He had fed the evidence he had gathered into his mobile crime computer, linking that to the character analysis of each of the images caught on the bank's surveillance system before Faust fried the circuitry. He routed all of his information through the linked databases of the local, state and federal known criminal offender profile network and received a list of names and addresses within a few minutes of several local residents in Northern California, Southern Oregon and Western Nevada that matched his search parameters. Of these, he collated those that had often either worked or associated together and narrowed the list of several hundred to just over two dozen. He narrowed the search again, based on local sightings of two or more in the list by traffic cameras, ATM cameras and the like and halved the two dozen to thirteen. He eliminated five more through hospital and social security records, and another two through a search through the local newspapers; the Chronicle, the Bee, The Mail Tribune. One was dead, and another deported to Mexico. That left six that frequented known criminal 'watering holes' in both San Francisco and Sacramento. The Batman had sent Plastic Man and the Black Canary to deal with Faust's henchmen, to the seedy bars along the San Francisco wharves where their type could most likely be found. They would be easy to find, spending excessive amounts of money, bragging and "buying the bar" after their windfall.

The Batman had faith in O'Brien and the Canary. They were good soldiers and could easily deal with a waterfront bar full of thugs. The harder job would be finding Faust. He was not an incompetent, despite his past encounters with the League. If his reputation was to be believed he was hundreds of years old, and in that time had garnered knowledge long forgotten by lesser men. He proclaimed himself to be a sorcerer, and as the legend of such went, he would have to accumulate his powers through spells that he had seen and learned, or at least have some type of focus for his arcane abilities.

The Batman did not believe in 'magic' as such. It was his opinion that those calling their powers magic were just using the Metagene in a different way. Doctor Fate, the Spectre, and even Zatanna in her own right were all quite powerful, but what they referred to as magic was just a differing manipulation of the same gene that gave Superman his powers. At least in his opinion. Zatanna was, of course, proficient at illusion and sleight of hand, but speaking backwards to alter reality was all part of her Metagene-

"I'm getting latent magical residue from Faust in spots, Batman, but it's weak." Zatanna stepped across the floor, her heels echoing in the over-sized room. She stopped and looked up at the melted remains of a camera mounted on the wall. "It's strongest here, where he fried the camera, and I get lesser emanations throughout the bank. I think he might have been employing a glimmer to mask himself, but it was not strong at all. Not in the power scale that I remember at any rate. I think he left most of the work to his helpers."

"Meaning what?" the Batman asked, stepping from the shadows.

Zatanna shrugged. "Rumor was that Faust was depleted after his continual defeats at the hands of the League. I imagine that he could barely light a candle with his innate powers. Burning out that camera probably exhausted him. I'm not a medium, or psychic. He's left nothing for me to get a 'grip' on."

"So he probably robbed the bank to finance some scheme to get his powers back up to par?"

"I would think that a good guess."

"Hh… Not a guess. Faust needs money to support his habit. He wants to buy something then. Where would he go?"

"Back to San Francisco I would imagine. The Bay Area is a major power point for my people. You can find anything there, and there are a lot of places that have inherent magic; Alcatraz Island, Haight-Ashbury, Berkeley! There's the Winchester Mystery House, Coit Tower, even the Golden Gate itself!"

"That may be, but Faust is seemingly keeping a low profile- sticking to the shadows. He seems to be hiding something and keeping his movements close to the vest. Where would he go if not San Francisco?"

Zatanna thought for a moment, her brows wrinkling as she considered Batman's question. "There are plenty of places really. Most of the West Coast of North America is a Ley Line running up from South America and up through Alaska to the North Pole. People have set up 'power stations' all along the Coast. The Redwood Forest holds a lot of old magic, and Canada and Alaska are thick with Native American Inuit mysticism. There's the House of Mystery and Jacksonville in Southern Oregon, and Ashland of course. That's assuming that he went north. He could have gone to Salt Lake City or south into the desert just as-"

"Ashland? I've heard of that. Explain!"

"It's a small city just north of the California border. It's an artsy, college town really that my folk have been gathering in for some time. It's small enough to escape notice, but central enough to not be too far out of the way. Interstate 5 runs through it, and it has a small airport and is about 15 miles from Medford which has all of the amenities to the real world."

"Someplace that he could spend his money?"

"Definitely! There's several shops that cater to the arcane, and a few that do so in the shadows."

"The Shakespearean Festival! The Tempest! That's where he's gone."

"That's a little weak, don't you think?" The Batman eyed Zatanna coldly, his lip curling in the slightest smile.

"Felix Faust is not an idiot, but past encounters have shown that he is a stickler for detail. He likes to think that he has thought of every contingency. If this Ashland is the 'power center' that you say it is, and if there are places there where he might be able to purchase something to enhance his failing powers, and if he would be known there, but not as well known as he is in San Francisco then that's where he will go. Add to that that the Shakespeare Festival is presenting the Tempest as one of their plays this season- a play about a magic user- it's too much of a coincidence! And if you recall, I don't believe in coincidence!"

"Well, when you put it like that…" Zatanna smiled and tipped her hat at the Batman's deductive reasoning. How he knew that the Festival was presenting the Tempest- how he could remember something so trivial as that was beyond her. Just another reason that he was the Batman and she was not.

The Batman turned away, already on his radio before Zatanna had finished her sentence, heading for the door-

"Canary and Plastic Man have caught three of the six of Faust's men. Canary says they don't know why Faust wanted the money, or where he was going beyond north. I'm sending them to Ashland. The Red Tornado's flying in along Interstate 80, just entering Reno. He reports nothing-"

"I doubt that Faust would advertise-"

"The Tornado 'sees' in ways that we don't, Zatanna. If he used his Meta magic in any way that disturbed the natural flow of air, the Tornado would have noticed. Likewise, I have Firestorm flying up the Coast Highway. He sees in frequencies that are beyond even Superman. Faust's powers disrupt the natural flow of things, elements and radiation on their most basic levels. Firestorm would notice the addition of elements in a localized area, or a trail of atoms disrupted by Faust's passing. Both have reported nothing beyond the ordinary, not that I was expecting anything. Based on your analysis of Faust's recent activities, I suspect he may have taken a plane, but more likely rented a car or even took a bus north. If he paid cash then he will be mostly untraceable, but I have Oracle checking both of those options now anyway, looking for any name that could be associated with Felix Faust and tapping into the terminal cameras en route. He's not an idiot, but he does make mistakes. He's far from perfect."

Zatanna smirked. "He's not Batman?" she whispered and smiled widely as the Batman glanced back, giving her the evil eye. She caught the faintest flicker of his smile as he headed out the door, then rushed to catch up, not wanting to be left behind…

Ashland, Oregon:
The Next Morning…

Habit forced Jack Knight to look up and around at the tinkling sound of a silver bell. At his own shop back in Opal City he had a similar bell set to jingle whenever anyone stepped through the doorway and entered Knights Past. He was glad to see that some things remained constant wherever you were.

The man that had entered the Brass Rubbing Centre looked familiar to Jack at a glance- not someone that Jack knew really, but more someone that he had seen, like a face passed on the street every so often but never quite set in memory. He was dressed in an off-the-rack suit and shoes and looked as though he had just gotten his hair trimmed that morning. Jack could see the tan lines where his beard used to be and, in fact, the man had a bit of red soaked tissue pasted up under his chin. Jack had to smile. He had been there.

Jack Knight went back to thumbing through the poster boards of old play posters encased in plastic. He was on a buying trip to the West Coast, making stops in Seattle and Portland, San Francisco and finally in San Diego where he would round out the trip at Creation; the Comic/Sci-Fi Con held there annually. He had rented a car in Seattle over a week ago and was taking a leisurely drive down Interstate 5 into California where he would then shift to the Coast Highway and pass through the Redwoods and Big Sur before hitting the Bay Area with a buyer's vengeance. It was half business, half vacation- though more vacation he had to admit- and he was enjoying himself for the first time since taking up the mantle of his father and brother's legacy.

Starman! It was still hard to believe sometimes.

Thinking of his new mantle Jack's gaze drifted back towards the man that had entered the shop. It had something to do with his other life, his life as Starman that made Jack think that the man looked familiar. He hardly seemed a hero though; one who ran in the Meta circles, but then again neither did Jack. Jack Knight was just a guy with a stick after all- a stick that could incinerate the world!

The man however looked frail and haggard, like he had not had a decent meal in weeks. His suit was a little baggy covering his slim frame, and as Jack looked him over he noticed that his socks did not match- one blue, one black. His hair was trimmed but windblown, and he had a look in his eyes like he was expecting something to happen at any moment. That more than anything made Jack nervous.

His father would have known instantly who the man was. It had been his job for fifty years to know things like that. Even David would have known probably, with his fanatical hero worship attitude. Jack's problem was that he had never cared. Oh, sure, he was proud of his father- Ted Knight, the original Starman- and even of his brother David who had taken his father's place. Though he would never admit it, his opinion of his brother had soared when he had put on that gaudy red and green costume and flown off into the starry night. Something Jack would never have done in a million years- not if tragedy and violence had not forced him to. Now David was dead and his father was retired and somehow Jack Knight was the new Starman. Go figure…

The man seemed edgy, and Jack could sense- almost feel the dread that hovered over him like a dark cloud. He was expecting the worst, glancing about the shop nervously as he approached the cashier's desk. Jack forced a smile, breaking his gaze from the man's haunted eyes and went back to browsing the old posters, trying to get his mind back on his work. He was looking for relics, cool things that people would pay money for from times past. Jack knew that the Brass Rubbing Centre worked hand in hand with the Southern Oregon Shakespeare Festival and often got first dibs on old play props, costumes, playbills and posters. Memorabilia, that was the ticket, and what Jack loved. There were little shops like the Rubbing Centre all up and down the Coast, and Jack hoped to hit them all before his trip was over-

"No, Faust! I told you that your credit's no good here! You still owe a bundle for that-" the man behind the register glanced up and looked around, then lowered his voice to a harsh whisper- "that cape that you wanted last summer. You said you were good for that!"

Faust…

Jack stared at a poster hanging in front of him on the wall for the current play at the theater- the Tempest- as he tried to remember that name. Faust was a name from a play too. Maybe that was it-

"Idiot!" the man shouted leaning into the guy behind the counter. He reached into his jacket pocket and Jack had visions of bullets blazing, ripping the cashier a few new holes before the man pulled out a thick wallet. He pulled out a wad of bills that would choke a horse and flopped it onto the counter.

"I am Felix Faust! Consider all debts paid, and know that the Cloak of the Magi did not work! Regardless, I wish to look over your archives."

The poor guy behind the counter was stuttering and turning a bright shade of red as he tried to catch his breath. Jack could not blame him. The man- Felix Faust had dropped a load onto the counter. Jack would have let him thumb through his Marvel Mystery Number Ones for a wad like that- greasy fingers and all.

Felix Faust though- Bells were ringing in Jack's head now as he finally put the name to the face. Faust was a ten-time loser that had fought the Justice League about a hundred times or so. Total waste of the Meta in Jack's opinion. He had never understood- when his dad had told him and David the old stories of the Justice Society- why guys like Per Degaton and the Gambler thought that they had a chance in hell of beating the likes of the Flash and Green Lantern let alone Doctor Fate and the Spectre. The Justice League had its fair share of losers too, and Felix Faust had always been at the top of the list, at least according to what Jack saw on the TV.

The cashier apparently decided to give Faust the benefit of the doubt and snatched up the wad of bills before Felix changed his mind. He led the villain towards the back of the shop, past a suit of armor and a display of archaic iron swords and through a shuttered door in the back wall that said 'Employees Only'. Jack figured that the guy thought Jack was fairly safe, leaving him alone in the shop, and that was fine with Jack.

Jack Knight sighed long and hard at the poster of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' from a Seventies Kaluta painting before slipping away towards the front door. If it was Felix Faust- and Jack suspected there was no doubt of that- he was probably up to something, and odds were that there would be trouble. Probably a fight! A couple years ago and Jack would have dipped out the back and left the super-stuff to his father or brother. Superman even! But Ted Knight was retired and half a continent away, and David…

David was dead!

Jack was Starman now, and it was his own bad luck that Felix Faust had dropped into his lap. He could take the magician he figured, but he might need his rod, and that was in the car parked outside on the street. Jack slipped out the door as quietly as possible, grimacing and looking up as the little silver bell jingled overhead…

Mt Ashland:
Right about then…

It was cool at the top of Mt Ashland, but that did not bother Ronnie Raymond. The cold had not bothered him for years. Not since that fateful day when a nuclear accident had merged him and Professor Martin Stein into Firestorm, the Nuclear Man! Intense cold and heat, the vacuum of space, the great depths of the ocean- nothing bothered him anymore…

Firestorm sighed…

Yeah, Firestorm was a rock! Too bad the same could not be said for Ronnie Raymond. He still could not believe the whirlwind that his life had become, and now he was back in the League. He was playing with the big boys again, all by himself, a kid barely out of high school.

As Firestorm he was in command of one of the potentially greatest Meta powers on the planet. He had the ability to transform non-living matter on a molecular scale. He had the raging powers of a nuclear furnace at his command. Hell, he could fly!

He barely had a clue.

It had been so much simpler when Professor Stein had shared the consciousness of the Nuclear Man. The Professor was a genius. He knew physics. He knew the elemental tables backwards and forward. To him it was no problem to turn iron into glass or oxygen into a cubic block of plastic. Sure, there were times that it had been hell, and both of their personal lives had suffered because of their bond, but the Professor had made being Firestorm so much easier.

But the Professor was gone now, an empty, hollow echo where his presence had been for so long. Ronnie Raymond was alone in the mutated body of one of the strongest beings on the face of the earth. A nuclear bomb in the hands of a child…

Ronnie Raymond was not the brightest bulb in the socket. He was not slow, but education had never been his strong point growing up. He was handsome and athletic, but science was a mystery to him and math just a big headache. He had expected to coast through college on sports scholarships, maybe get a job as a star athlete when he had had enough of university life. Things changed, and changed, and changed again…

He had been in the League before, for awhile but it had never seemed right. At the time of course it had been one more extra pressure on he and the Professor. How many times had they merged into the Nuclear Man, pulling one or the other from the shower or bed, drawing them from any kind of social life? The Professor's job had suffered for it, and Ronnie's grades had spiraled downward. He would have lost it all if not for Martin Stein, and where had he been when the Professor had needed him? Wrapped up in his own little world.

He felt alone. Maybe that was why he had jumped at the chance to rejoin the League. He had no friends to speak of. He had no normal life of any kind anymore. He had nothing since Firestorm had become the Earth's Fire Elemental for a time and he and Stein both had been suppressed. After all of that had passed- most of which he could not even remember- he had found that his world had changed. He could not see the little things anymore. It all seemed so pointless. And the Professor was gone…

Ronnie saw rejoining the new Justice League as a chance to start over again. Just him, on his own as Firestorm! In total control of the Nuclear Man, fighting with others like him; the Flash and the Green Lantern, Superman! He would impress them this time. He would befriend them! Make them like him! The Lantern and Flash were about his age, and he had the power to keep up with both of them. Hell he had been in the business longer than this new Green Lantern. What was not to like?

Firestorm sighed. He missed the Professor…

A flare of light caught his attention and Firestorm stared down at the city miles below. Waves of heat rippled, rising into the hazy blue sky, but his vision sorted through the pollutants hovering over the valley with ease. He saw the condensed radiations in the blast, the base elements bared to him like an open wound. gamma radiation, infrared and ultraviolet, and the spike of cosmic rays! Stellar energy, the focused might of a star! There was a fire blazing now, in the aftermath, and Firestorm watched as a plume of smoke rose into the sky towards the heavens.

Without a thought Firestorm rose into the air and swooped down towards the conflagration. He was miles away at the top of the mountain, but he would be there in seconds. He had to get there in seconds. They needed him!

Finally…

San Francisco:
A Few Hours earlier…

Bob McCullogh should have been in heaven.

He liked it rough. He liked blondes. He liked women in boots. For some reason however as he looked down the long muscular leg that had him pinned up against the wall he was not as excited as he should have been. It could have been the blood gushing from his nose and running down his chin. It could have been the throbbing ache in his kneecap where the beautiful blonde had kicked him earlier. It could even have been the fact that he could barely catch his breath what with the sole of her boot planted in his neck and crushing his Adam's Apple into his wind pipe. It could have been all of those things, but Bob McCullogh thought that he was really not enjoying himself because he realized that he was totally screwed!

He had been enjoying some of his recent windfall down at Mindi's, one of the less rough and rowdy bars just off of the waterfront. He and his brother Bill, along with Tom Christian were stepping out and up, enjoying just a touch of the better life for one night. They had laid low after the bank job with Faust for a bit as they had all agreed, but after some time they had all gotten a little anxious. What was the point of having a pocketful of money if they could not enjoy it, after all? After Faust had gone north, the rest of the gang and he had decided to celebrate. One quick night on the town- where was the harm?

The others had gone to the same old dive on the wharves where they all usually gathered, but Bob, Bill and Tom had decided to check out some of the better places off the docks. Better to go where they weren't so well known they figured, where people would not wonder where they had all suddenly gotten such a wad of cash to spend. It had seemed a good plan, at least at first.

They had been there at Mindi's most of the night, and they were all enjoying themselves. The drinks were good, not half as watered down as the places they usually went, and there was actually warm food on the bar instead of stale pretzels. The high life was good! No fights upsetting their table, the smell was tolerable, and there were even a few women in and out of the bar that did not charge for more than a feel.

It was one of those that had caught Bob's eye. There were two of them actually, blown in from the streets and wrapped against the summer chill drifting in with the fog off of the bay. The one was tall with jet-black hair and long legs shining from beneath her plastic red trenchcoat. Despite the dim, smoky bar she kept her dark glasses on, but her wide smile glistened in the thick light and Bob figured she could see just fine. It was her friend though that caused Bob to sober and sit up straight. She was gorgeous- at least in Bob's opinion- with long blonde hair wrapped into a loose bun on the back of her head and a thick black overcoat that flapped in the breeze from the open door behind her. Bob caught glimpses of her long fit legs despite that she was barely five and a half feet tall. Best of all she had on a killer pair of dark leather boots trimmed in gold that sparkled as she walked in and down the short flight of wooden steps. She and her friend had hit the bottom landing and stopped to scan the crowd like they owned the place. Bob had said something to his friends but got no answer and saw that they too had their attention riveted on the women. Bob grimaced, hoping that Bill and Tom would fight over the brunette and leave the blonde to his tender mercies.

When he had looked back, Bob gasped. The blonde was looking right at him, a sly smile curling her lips. Bob swallowed as she leaned into her friend to whisper something, and then the pair had started walking their way. Bob heard a shuffling of feet as Bill and Tom straightened up in their chairs. Bob licked his suddenly dry lips, watching as the brunette lit a cigarette, her blonde friend casually shoving through the crowd, making a beeline for their table. She was grace with every step. Death on two legs!

She stepped right up and stared down at the three flustered men, looking each over in turn. Finally the blonde's big blue eyes lingered on Bob as she put her leather gloved palms on the table and leaned even closer-

"Hello, boys. Wanna party?" Bob almost lost it then and there.

The next few minutes were a blur to Bob. Both women had skidded chairs closer and sat right down before any of the men could even answer. The tall brunette sat between Bill and Tom, but the blonde sat right next to Bob and reserved her attention only for him. Somebody ordered drinks. There was a lot of talking and Bob remembered the jukebox coming to life- Gimme Shelter playing in the background. He tried to keep up a conversation, tried to give the blonde his best lines but he knew he was sounding like a kid in junior high. He was actually sweating. He felt the toe of her boot sliding along his leg, tickling him. Someone said something about Faust-

Bob had heard the sound of wood cracking and suddenly he was sprawled on his back on the floor. His head was spinning as he tried to figure out what had happened and saw Bill and Tom wrapped up tightly in what looked to be a long red rubber hose. They were screaming, at least until the tubing snaked up and wrapped about their mouths, effectively gagging them. They struggled for a bit, but finally sagged and stood still. Bob lost sight of them then as the blonde stepped over him.

She straddled him, one leg on either side of his prone body as she slipped out of her long dark coat. She still looked hot, as Bob finally got a good look at her trim, fit body and the skimpy costume that she wore. He shriveled, moaning as he finally recognized the woman as she pulled her long golden locks from the bun and shook her head. The hair fell about her shoulders like she was in a shampoo commercial- everything in slow motion. She cocked a hip and put a foot on his chest as she stared down at him with a smile-

"I have a few questions, Bob, and something tells me you have all the answers. Let's chat!"

The Black Canary had hefted him to his feet with ease and spun him through the suddenly empty bar. He staggered as she slammed him against the closest wall, and he had tried to bat her hands away as she got a firmer grip into his lapels. She 'tsk-ed' at him and shook her head with a bemused frown before slamming her heel into his kneecap. Bob had screamed in agony and shifted his weight to his good leg as she supported him against the wall. The Canary had smiled; grasping his cheek in her leather clad fingers and giving him a strong pinch. He felt the toe of one of her boots tracing a line up and down his legs as she slapped his face across the nose to get his attention.

"Bill said that you know Felix Faust," she said, her hand brushing back his hair as she released the hold on his jacket. "Is that true?" Bob whimpered as she tapped his kneecap with her foot, trying to force a response. Bob nodded his head as his throat constricted from the pain.

"That's good, Bob!" She patted his cheek, nodding her approval. "Good answer! Did you rob a bank with Faust not too long ago?" Again Bob nodded receiving another soft caress.

"Good, Bob! You're doing marvelously. Now for the biggee, Bob. Are you ready?" She traced a line down his body with her finger from his face to his chest. She planted her hand against him, holding him in place. Bob hoped that Bill and Tom might come to his rescue, but he saw that the woman in red had really been a guy, and the rubber tubing that had wrapped them up had actually been the dude's elongated arms. The tall brunette had been Plastic Man! Bob almost vomited-

"Where is Felix Faust?" Bob felt pressure on his chest as the Black Canary stepped back a bit and pressed on him. Bob felt pain race through his leg. He snuffled back tears and bit his lip. He wanted it all to end-

"I- I don't know-"

The Black Canary simply shifted her weight to her hind leg and quick as the Flash brought her foreleg up and slammed her heel into Bob's throat. Bob almost blacked out, but she shifted her foot, rubbing the sole of her boot across his throat until the pain subsided and she held him in place. She casually glanced at her partner who was apparently doing things to Bill and Tom. They were limp in Plastic Man's arms. The Canary said something that Bob could not hear for the blood rushing through his ears, then she returned her attention to him. She shifted her weight and pressed her foot into his throat-

"Now, Bob, I didn't like that answer. It makes me think that you're holding out on me. Tell you what though. I'll ask again, because maybe you might have remembered something in the last couple of seconds. Something that my old friend Felix might have mentioned- a friend he wanted to visit? Maybe a city he was going to? C'mon, Bob-" she said, pressing her foot into his throat, "I can see you're liking this. Throw me a bone and I'll give you a treat! C'mon…"

"North!" Bob choked out, gasping for air. "He said… north! Oregon!"

"There's a good boy." The Canary smiled as she lowered her foot from his throat. Bob automatically shifted his weight as he gasped for sudden breath and cried out as pain ran through his broken leg. He collapsed to the floor at her feet as the Black Canary turned to her partner, a radio in her hand. Bob whimpered, curling into an almost fetal position to hug his shattered leg as the Canary ignored him, speaking into her radio. After a few seconds she told her partner to drop Bill and Tom as the Batman wanted them in Ashland. Bob saw the Plastic Man grin far wider than was humanly possible as he gave Bob's partners a final squeeze before letting them fall to the floor, unconscious-

"Ashland, hunh? Kewl! They grow pears in Oregon! Doctor Ruth says that pears are the most sensual fruit right after strawberries, bananas and cucumbers." Plastic Man grinned at the Canary then turned towards the door, listening-

"Sirens, BC! We gotta go!"

The Black Canary nodded, "Wait for me outside and set the computer to teleport us to this Ashland." She turned back to Bob. "I promised Bob a treat."

Bob watched as the Plastic Man saluted then stretched his body towards and out the door. When they were alone, the Black Canary looked down at Bob with that sly smile again. She slid the toe of her boot under Bob's face as he lay curled up on the floor.

"Make it quick, Bob. I have to go."

Despite the pain he leaned forward. He liked it rough, and this had been the best.

Bob McCullogh had found heaven after all…

Ashland, Oregon:
Later…

The Red Tornado shifted the air about him as he flew over the Cascades. He called on the winds to shift and blow from behind, increasing his speed as he soared towards the rendezvous with the Batman and Zatanna and the rest. The winds swirled at his command and blew behind him, pushing him along as his funnel of air churned, propelling him forward.

In the distance he could see the column of smoke rising into the air. Obviously his destination, the Tornado arched his body and adjusted his flight to meet whatever disaster could cause such an effect. He shifted his thoughts and redirected the winds, a gust catching the spiraling smoke and carrying it up and away from the city. It was simplicity itself. He was the world's Air Elemental after all.

He saw the flames from far away as he swooped over the mountains. He could see the tiny dots of the others; Firestorm, the Fire Elemental soaring through the sky, and another that he did not recognize. A man with a sparkling staff, flying as well. He could see the Meta energy warping the very air as they all deployed their powers, the two in the air and another on the ground. That was probably Faust, the one on the ground. His energies reeked of mystery and confusion- powers that disrupted the natural flow. Chaos! The Red Tornado arched around, sending a funnel through the flames to snuff them, suck out the air and extinguish the fire. He was still over a mile away.

He saw the fire start to die as he dove towards the 'fight'. He saw energy rippling off of Firestorm, and he saw the other, the one he did not know blasting away with energies that seared the air and burned the sky. On the ground, Faust waved his arms about and gestured at his attackers. The Tornado saw the ground ripple and rip as things climbed free of the earth; dead things. Fire arched up, and the man with the staff swooped to one side. Firestorm gestured and the things on the ground dissolved in a green mist.

The Red Tornado weighed his options, calculating the best attack to bring the battle to a close when a roar of engines diverted his attention. The Bat Plane was arching over the Siskyus to the south, coming out of the sun with a dramatic flare. The Tornado dispersed the resistance before the plane and fell back into position. The Batman was on the scene.

The fight was over…

NEXT ISSUE: Will the Luck of Felix Faust continue to change for the better? Or will Batman and his five fellow members turn his good luck to bad? And how does Starman fit into the equation? Check back soon for all the answers in Unlucky Numbers, Part 3!

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