JLU 2001 Fanfiction

I HAVE THE POWER!

Nabu smiled, his face hidden behind tarnished gold as he gazed longingly at the planet that he had known and loved for so, so long. The planet he coveted. It spiraled slowly below, as he stood midway at that point twixt Earth and Moon contemplating its future and remembering his own. It turned slowly, sparkling blue and lush green; a myriad of browns washed with pale, roiling fields of white. It was beautiful, still, and soon it would all be his.

He had the power, indeed. The power to make dreams come true. His dreams of course; his and those he served, those that he had joined so long ago, so far from now. Here…

He stared at the long and gangly hands held before his face. The twisted, gnarled fingers, the parched and withered skin darkened by a blazing, relentless sun unhampered and shining brightly on the face of a barren and charred planet. They were not always so, of course, and not so long ago they belonged to another; both child and friend, vessel and vassal-

Fate laughed…

The vessel is the vassal, holds the brew that is true…

Out…

Shut up!

Out of…my body…

My body, Hawk Boy! Always was… Meant to be-

No!

Nabu laughed, listening to Hector Hall’s whines and whimpering for a time, amusing, finally grating. With a thought he shoved the boy’s psyche back down into the swirling mists of Chaos, which were the dark recesses of Nabu’s own thoughts. He enjoyed hearing the boy’s screams as he fell- again.

He was not surprised really. Nothing shocked him anymore. He had seen Earth’s heroes pull victory from hopelessness far too many times over the eons to be astounded by anything they might achieve any more. And of course, the Hall whelp was the get of Khufu after all. It was his own fault, really. But of course he had been a good and docile lapdog for the Lords of Order then. Hell, he had been one of them. The cast away, the scapegoat, the prodigal son…

The idiot…

Lackey…

Fodder…

Oh, they had been good- very good, sneaky shits that they were. Spouting peace and unity for the world; a golden era of light and truth following on the heels of the ‘Obsidian Age’ as they were wont to call it. He imagined he could hear them chuckling still over that one.

How many had died that time? How many had perished to wipe the world clean, to pave the way for yet another new age of enlightenment? How many cities sank to kill that little bastard, Arion?

And it had not even worked…

Still, Nabu had followed blindly, doing the will and bidding of his ‘brothers’, cold and calculating blobs of plasma and thought floating half a dimension above and beyond. Their agent on Earth; their knight and priest. The Lord of Order made Flesh!

Manipulative bastards, the lot of them…

And like a fool he had listened. He had believed that their course was true, that they had the hopes and best interest of the Earth and its denizens in mind. The entire continuum! Nabu had believed and allowed them to work their magicks, sending him a step out of Hell, casting him out to the mud and heat, away from the security of bliss, the structure. The Order…

He had gathered his followers of course. It had been easy, the people were lost after the deluge, wandering aimlessly, without goal or direction. They had simply been trying to survive. Their Gods- such as they were- had turned their backs. They had shunned mankind, slaughtered most and left the others to their own misery. Their own device. They were in desperate need of guidance, a light, a shining star to follow.

The sheep needed a shepherd.

Then came Nabu…

The Valley of the Nile had been lush and verdant then, vast. Nabu had given them purpose and guidance as Order demanded. Build cities, plant crops, show honor and respect to your betters- the New Gods-

Of Which, I am…

They had fucked that up royally, but what might one expect from cattle. They are only as wise as the herder, bleating and mooing in whichever direction they are prodded. And Nabu had tried, give just due. They built their cities, dragging stones across the sand, reaching for the stars. They built their monuments and towers, minarets and tombs. They planted their crops, hoarding like ants and letting the surplus rot for a rainy day that would never come as long as they saw the Rainbow. They slaughtered their fattened calves and starving slaves alike for the glory of their gods and heroes.

And there were heroes, yes indeed…

Khufu and his concubine, were flitting about above the rabble with their wings and weapons. Teth-Adam, the all-powerful lord of the lightning and servant of a decrepit old wizard guarding a floating mountain, both so far removed. The endless line of Elemental men, lackeys of Ra, mindless fodder that could be anyone chosen. That fool with the Living Scarab. And Bennett, forever trusting, blinded by love…

Pawns of Nabu, rather, his Knights of Justice! He was after all the true pawn. No more!

Never again…

Nabu laughed as the world turned below. He could feel the tug of the moon behind, caught twixt the eternal pull; mother and daughter forever longing for embrace. That would change. He raised his head, his gaze scanning the dark, only the brightest stars piercing the shadows of twilight here between. They would be gone soon as well. So many paths…

So much time…

Fate raised his arms higher, the stolen energies sparking to life as he made the ancient signs, uttered the fabled words that could only be forgotten. The symbol appeared; the blackened, inverted Ankh floating in the void, spiraling before the rip, the tear in the very fabric of space and time. One of many, this one conveniently placed where once a satellite held sway. It was fitting in its way, ironic.

It was the Justice League that had caused this after all with their journey to the End of All, trying to save their Superman! It was they had created the many sources of his power; the Wizard, the Spear, Scott and Wotan… the Enchantress. Sorcerers and witches, all the Fairie Folk brimming with the golden glow, like apples ripe for the picking, dangling on a withered tree.

Who’s your friend?

There was a flare, a surge of power as darkling energy roiled from the rip in space. Pink mist swirled forth, lightning crackling, a rumble of thunder that shook the void unheard. Nabu smiled as he directed his stolen magic at the rift, ripping it wider, reaching within. He wondered if the heroes would remember. Some would, he imagined, those that had been there; the strongest.

He wondered if the Lords had noticed yet. Did they even care?

They would, when they finally opened their omniscient eyes and saw what was going on. When they finally realized that their prodigal son had come home. What would they say? Probably something wise and profound…

Something fatal!

Nabu laughed…

The World's Greatest Superheroes.....

Twist of Fate Chapter Three:
The Justice Society

JLA #27-
April, Year 3
by Curt Fernlund

Active Roster

Wildcat Ted Grant	The Flash Jay Gerrick	Max Mercury	Sentinel Alan Scott

The Watchtower…

“Alan?”

He saw Fate. No, not Doctor Fate- not really. It was Fate’s body but dark, twisted. It was Nabu stepping into reality, from where? Didn’t matter, he was there- here…

“Alan…”

That damnable Ankh, sucking the magic out of the ring, sucking the very life right out of him. It was too much, couldn’t stop it. Jay and Max hadn’t faired any better. Nabu was eating at the Speed Force as well, stealing their speed- their souls…

“Alan!”

Alan Scott opened his eyes, the sparkles of green flashing and fading even as his gaze focused. He saw the grim face of Jay Garrick staring down at him, shaking his hand, a blur. He had felt the slap, just enough. The ring had protected him as always, even from that. It looked as though poor Jay had gotten the worse of the exchange, despite his good intentions.

“Jay?” he croaked, his voice weak and raspy. He felt the world shift and Jay was of course at his side, helping him. Jay Garrick, the Fastest Man Alive once upon a time and maybe he was once more.

“You okay, Alan?” Jay asked, a cup of water suddenly in his hand. Alan Scott, Sentinel nodded.

He sipped at the water slowly, draining the cup and licking his lips, trying to smile. He glanced about the room, the vast chamber that was the Meeting Room of the Justice League. They were still on the Moon then, in the Watchtower. Little had changed, as the debris and wreckage of their last battle still littered the tiled floor. Machines smoldered, charred papers scattered about stirred every time the Flash moved by. He saw what remained of the Treadmill and frowned.

“The League?” he asked, trying to stand, accepting his friend’s offered hand. The world was still spinning a bit, but not as bad.

“Nothing,” Jay Garrick offered, his own gaze traveling to the remains of the broken Cosmic Treadmill. Fate had shattered it after somehow using the machine to… what? Arrive? He had already been here.

No! Not Fate! Nabu!

“Where?”

Max Mercury appeared, just suddenly standing there, doubled over and breathing hard, his hands on his knees. He was wet, soaked with sweat-

“Nothing… “ he wheezed, gasping for breath. Jay was at his side, forcing the older man to stand straight, arms stretched high over his head to breathe. “He’s… He’s not… here. No one… No one but… us chickens… “

“Then where is he?” Sentinel said, his voice stern and grim. He had no idea what had happened, or what was going to happen but he was fairly certain that Nabu had taken control of Doctor Fate’s body as he had in the past. He had done it with Kent Nelson before, but only in direst need, only when the Society or League were facing a foe of incredible power. And the Fate- the Nabu that had appeared over the Treadmill had been nothing like the Nabu that Alan Scott remembered from the old days, back when he was only just Earth’s first Green Lantern. The arrogance was still there, certainly, but there was a darkness now too, a malevolence.

And of course they did not even know who Nabu had possessed. They did not know who had taken on the mantle of Doctor Fate. Kent and Inza were dead. The boy- Jarred? No one really knew what had happened to him. Had there been others? Alan Scott did not know and was kicking himself now for it. He should have found out. He- any of the old timers should have investigated the new Doctor Fate, and all the others that had appeared, taking the names of their old friends.

They knew Jack Knight of course, and David before him- God rest his soul. They knew Courtney Whitmore and Sandy, and Al. Of course Jenny and Todd and Hector-

It was Hector they had suspected, mused over coffee. Hector Hall had had an affinity for the magic, the ancient artifacts. How could he not, considering who his parents had been? It had been that very aspect that had driven him to become the Silver Scarab in the first place years before with Sylvester’s Infinity Inc. To take up the mantle true, but more to prove himself to the legend and legacy of Hawkman. And now, was he Fate? It made sense given his history, and the history of Carter and Shayera, but there was still some doubt. When the new Doctor Fate had suddenly, simply appeared they had taken him at face value, trusting. Who could imitate Doctor Fate after all? Idiots…

Trusting, senile old men…

They would pay for that trust now.

“Where is he?” Alan Scott repeated, and Jay Garrick pointed to the vast window that showed the Earth in all its glory, sparkling like a huge, blue jewel on the black velveteen backdrop of space.

“I’m not sure,” Jay said, the slightest tremble in his voice, “but I think that might be him.”

Alan Scott followed his friends, both Max Mercury and the original Flash, his gaze following where Jay Garrick was pointing. It was a spot in space nearly a third of the way to the Earth, its significance escaping him for the moment as his eyes grew wide, his mouth dropping open.

Alan Scott was not a man easily impressed. He was a man without fear. In his day he had seen things, done things that others could only imagine or dream of. He had traveled the universe. He had battled beings, creatures that should not even exist. He had touched the Eternal Flame and seen the Hand of God. But as he stood there at the view port with his friends, Alan Scott, Sentinel, Earth’s first Green Lantern paled, knowing- if not fear, then doubt.

He saw the storm, the churning clouds of dark pink, the crackling energy that looked like lightning. He trembled, thinking he could feel the roll of thunder washing out across the void. He remembered…

“My God… “ he whispered, feeling his heart rise into his throat. “Not again…”

San Francisco…

Al felt the first drops of rain and looked skyward, wondering where it was coming from. The morning fog had burned away and just moments before the sky had been a deep, rich blue, the sun shining overhead.

Now there were clouds, dark and churning, tinged with… pink? Why did that look familiar? Usually the color of a storm at sunrise- or sunset, he corrected. Lightning flashed out over the Bay, lighting up the bridge with an almost unearthly glow. Thunder rolled and a chill wind whipped past, blowing up and down the streets and hills of the city.

The rain felt slimy too, like grease and as he looked about he saw it congregating, puddling quickly in spots, flowing like oil or molasses. Definitely weird…

Albert Rothstein squatted down, watching as a puddle formed near his feet. The tiny rivulets of rainwater seemed to be moving against gravity, of their own volition, as though alive. That was impossible of course. And why was the water… black?

Al gasped, falling backwards in shock as the puddle gurgled and boiled, bubbled up in his face. It was almost as though it had been reaching for him. He scurried back, crab- walking even as lightning cracked overhead. He screamed as his hand splashed into another puddle-

He pulled his hand away, slimy and wet as he scrambled back to his feet. He felt a tingling, a burning almost despite his thick skin. Luckily he was just a bit beyond normal, the atomic fires burning in his body. Others however, weren’t quite so lucky.

He heard the screams, the cries of panic and pain. He stared as the black rain puddled and congealed, creeping up on the innocents, passers by; a woman out walking her dog, a businessman on his cell phone, a hot dog vender. No one was safe, no one but him. The shadowy liquid swept up over anyone too slow to react, too stupid to get out of the rain. It morphed them, twisted their bodies into something... else. Creatures, slick and black, shadow things where people used to be. What the hell was happening?

Al blinked, hearing the faint trill that he had not heard for so long, the slight buzzing tremble in his pocket. He looked down and about, breathing hard as he finally dipped a hand into the pocket of his blue jeans. He did not even know why he still carried the thing, it had been so long; he pulled out his JLA Communicator, depressing the signal button, the affirmative.

And the world faded away…

Opal City...

Jack Knight had been lucky.

He had had the Cosmic Rod, his Star Staff handy when the first creature had come crashing through the plate glass window of his shop. He was lucky he had been there, taking inventory. Lucky he had just returned from Calgary with a box of Stampede flyers and honest to god memorabilia dating back to the days of the Hudson Bay Company; maps and leaflets, a 1749 musket and powder horn and a truly authentic beaver skin top hat. He was lucky.

Lucky that the slimy black thing that came raging into his little store was affected by the cosmic energies of the Star Staff, the converted rod that his father, the original Starman had created decades before. Point and blast, the ugly bastard screamed, writhing in the concentrated starlight, its skin melting away to reveal some old fat woman underneath. Lucky she fell to the floor unconscious instead of dead.

Jack Knight vaulted over the displays and tables of his shop- Knights Past- a happy little place with nostalgia in mind, memories for sale- Cheap. He stared out into the thickening darkness, watching storm clouds stretch across the sky churning and roiling, just like his stomach. His short hairs sprang to life, his body tingling. The staff was slick with sweat in his hands.

The streets were awash in chaos, the shadowy dark creatures running about apparently randomly and willy-nilly, smashing things, bending and breaking, wreaking havoc just for the sport of it. Jack heard the screams. Jack saw the streets light up as lightning flared, everything frozen in a garish blaze of brilliance soon swallowed by the darkness. It all looked so familiar, something he remembered, like a name on the tip of his tongue-

“They called it Crisis, Jack,”

Jack Knight turned, spun about, rolling to the floor to come up in a crouch with the staff aimed and pointing high. He had not even cried out when he banged his knee on the table leg, set the wind-up teeth to chattering. His father would have been proud-

“Shade!”

The man in black waved his hand as though dismissing Jack’s shock and astonishment. He picked up a snow globe, shaking it and smiling as white flakes swirled about the Eiffel Tower. He seemed unconcerned as sirens blared and something exploded in the distance.

“This your doing, Shade? It reeks of darkness, man. I thought-“

“Please Jack, don’t.” The man called the Shade replaced the snow globe amongst the others, strolled down the aisle, pinched the hem of a shirt between his fingers with a sneer. “I should hardly stoop so low, Jack,” he continued, raising a View Master to his eyes, turning towards the light. He smiled-

“Julie Newmar was remarkable, I’ll admit, but I so much prefer Eartha Kitt,” he said, dropping the View Master back to the table and turning back to Jack. “Don’t you? Her purr was just… spectacular…”

“I liked Lee Meriwether actually, but then I liked Barnaby Jones better than the Beverly Hillbillies. What do I know?” Jack Knight stood, his staff still in hand but at ease. If the Shade was not behind this- and he didn’t seem to be- then who?

“Fate…”

“What?”

“It’s Fate, Jack.”

“What’s fate? You being here? You know my shop.”

“No! Fate is causing this.”

“What? Causing what- this? What the fuck are you trying to say?”

The Shade sighed, shaking his head. “Don’t make me kill you Jack. You’re needed, but I will put you out of my misery.”

Jack knight raised his hands in warding, backing up. “All right. What? What’s going on? Just spit it out for once.”

Shade stared out the window. The shadows in the shop seemed to darken and swell about him. “Doctor Fate has been possessed of Nabu, a Lord of Order. He is corrupted however, now a servant of Chaos from a time yet to come. He brings Chaos forth, a new age- the Chaos Reigns!”

Jack sniffed, turning the staff in his grip. He glanced out the window as an ambulance slammed into a light pole across the street, darkness washing over the wreck, creatures springing forth.

“You are needed, Jack,” the Shade continued. “Your communicator-“

“Sold it. To the Joker, got a nice price-“

“What?”

“Kidding!” Jack waved the Shade back. “Just kidding. What do I have to do?”

“Trust, Jack,” the Shade said, tapping his cane to the floor. The shadows seemed to swirl and gather, enveloping them both. “Trust in me…

“And in yourself…”

And the world faded away…

Gotham…

Ted Grant popped another beer and took a long drink, the suds tickling his nose, threatening to make him sneeze. He belched-

The television flickered, the bright glow shifting color as the picture changed to Metropolis, just outside the Daily Planet where Wolf Blitzer stood, a hand pressed to his ear. The Shadow Things were running rampant through the golden streets without Superman there to blow them away. There was a tinge of panic in Wolf’s voice as a gout of flame rose in the background, his image flickering in the wake of the explosion of the gas main. Grant belched again, aiming the remote and flipping the channel. It was the same everywhere…

Fawcette City…

Keystone…

Seattle…

Manhattan…

The lesser heroes were trying to hold the fort. The Titans were struggling. That new group- the Outsiders were battling the Shadow things, the new Mister Terrific doing Terry proud. Grant would have to look him up someday- see just what he was about. Without the League though…

Where the hell were they?

Why weren’t they helping out? Saving the day? That was why they got the big bucks, after all.

Ted Grant took another drink, guzzling the beer, watching as the world went to hell on two hundred odd channels. He ought’a be out there, helping, but what could a down and out prizefighter do against that. The shadow things, the crimson skies, the end of the world…

Ted Grant turned at the slight chirping sound coming from the little metallic disk situated on his kitchen table just so, long forgotten. It was the call.

He stood, swaying slightly as he staggered to the table and picked up the device. The communicator- they needed him. He was needed…

At last…

Ted Grant licked his lips as he depressed the stud on the little device…

And the world faded away…

Manhattan…

They exploded.

Blowed up real good…

Sandy Hawkins smiled as the street rose and rocked, the shadow creatures shedding their dark armor as his wave of ground smashed them aside. The rain was still falling however, and for every possessed person that he ‘saved’ another rose in its stead. He was doing nothing really, he realized. Trying to stop the tide, just a kid with his finger jammed into the dike. Pointless…

Still, he had to try. Wesley would never have given up, and he would not either. Besides, he had more power at his beck and call than Wesley could ever dream of. His years spent as a creature of silicon had changed him. Sandy Hawkins was no more, no longer human in the specific sense of the word. He was a force of nature now. Dirt Man! Mud Manipulator!

Sand…

Seemed only fitting really. A nice tribute to Wesley Dodds and Sandy Hawkins; the Sandman and Sandy the Golden boy!

A wash of dirt as he gestured. Asphalt rode like a tidal wave. Sand flashed in a swirling storm. Every attack saved dozens. Dozens more sprang from the shadows. Grains of sand on the beach. Rain drops, impossible to count. He needed help-

“Hey, sexy.”

Sand glanced up, the image swirling, exaggerated through the warped crystal of his goggles, his gas mask. She was an angel, come down from on high dressed in white and blue and red, her blonde hair whipping in the backdraft of her passing. She hovered overhead, smiling-

“They sent me down to get you,” Karen Starr said with a wide grin, her eyes glowing red as a shadow crept too close. “You weren’t answering your communicator.”

Sand stared up- trying not to stare, but-

“I don’t have it. It’s home, by my bed.”

“I figured.” She offered her hand, floating down just a bit. Power Girl smiled as he reached up…

And the world faded away…

The Watchtower…

“This is it?”

Ted Grant glanced about the assemblage, a motley crew if he ever saw one. Kids for the most part, second generation heroes trying to fill too big boots. Some he knew well, others he had only met in passing. He stood beside Garrick and Scott, looking over the league they had assembled- the society-

Power Girl…

Sandy the Golden Boy…

Starman Junior, Ted’s second choice…

Nuklon- no, Atom Smasher…

Sentinel, Flash and Wildcat playing nurse maids…

And let’s not forget Max Mercury. God save us all…

“You got a problem, Kitty-kat?”

Power Girl grinned, folding her arms across her massive chest. Grant frowned and shook his head. They were all good kids, sure, and they had all paid their dues- well, maybe not Knight’s kid, though he had heard some talk about the new Starman in Opal. Still, if they had to take on Fate gone mad? Wildcat sighed-

“So, what’re we, buyin’ time till the JLA gets home or what?”

Jay Garrick put his hand on Grant’s shoulder, forcing a smile. “We’re it Ted. Last line of defense. The League’s gone as far as we know.”

“Wonderful.”

“Hey!” Nuklon- Atom Smasher said, stepping forward. He towered over the rest, nine feet tall at least, his face hidden behind a full mask of blue. “Don’t sell us short, Wildcat. We’ve got a lot of power here-“

“Against that!” Grant motioned out the window, waving at the storm rolling in the distance, growing ever bigger. “Hey, kid, weren’t no bigger optimists than me n’ Al n’ Johnny back in the day, but ain’t no way we can deal with somethin’ like that. Especially if it’s Fate. Him n’ the Spectre- well they’re way outta our league, ‘cept for Alan maybe. Always were…”

“Doesn’t sound like you to give up without a fight, Ted,” Jay Garrick said, looking at his friend. Wildcat shrugged-

“Just getting’ old, pal. We all are. I know my limits.”

“We all do, Ted,” Alan Scott said. “We all saw mortality in Zero Hour… in the Crisis… in the war… Too many times over too many years. Terry, Rex, Al, Charles… How many more friends do we have to lose? How many people have to die before we can stop? They’re counting on us, Ted. Counting on the League and the Titans, the Outsiders and the Justice Society to save the day- like always. That’s why we put on the spandex in the first place…’

“Heh,” Grant chuckled, standing, popping his knuckles. “Wasn’t spandex back then, Alan. Aw, hell, let’s do this…”

Alan Scott smiled, the green glowing about his hands, engulfing the room…

And the world faded away…

San Francisco…

Valentina Vostok stared down at her body and wept.

It looked lifeless just lying there, the energies rippling, scarring her skin, her long, beautiful blond hair falling away. The radiations ravaging her. She held up her hands, staring, watching the dark flickering glow-

Who are you?

She heard the voice, echoing, bouncing off the walls of the club. No one else seemed to notice. They ignored the voice, ignored her body fallen to the floor as they surged and shouted, running about in panic as the nightclub burned. They fought the fire, trying their best to support the walls, reinforce the floors. It would be close, but-

I’m Mysta! Who are you?

Valentina Vostok looked up and about, scanning the room. No one noticed or seemed to care. The voice was definitely in her head-

“I am Valentina Vostok,” she said looking about, waiting.

The Colonel- I remember you. You were Leonid’s friend.

“Not really. I-“

What has happened? Why can’t I feel my body?

“We… merged,” Vostok said, trying to remain calm. She hated this- did not want it. She wanted to be normal. This- this was hell! “We are one now, I think. You and I. It was Fate.”

But, that’s you on the floor. Dead…

“No… “ Vostok stared at her body there, splayed at her black, glowing feet- such as they were. She did look dead, but she knew better. “Not dead. Empty…”

I don’t understand.

“Neither do I,” she said with a sigh. “I never did. I think however we have joined into one. Me and you, we are something that I thought long gone, Dead and gone. Negative. Fate changed you…”

I remember. Pain and darkness. Absence. He took the light away…

Vostok nodded. “I understand, believe me. And I’m sorry, for the both of us. This is not a life that anyone deserves. Not you or I. Not Trainer…”

Negative Woman. I remember now. I saw you once. You and your friends.

Vostok nodded, staring at her body. It was burning, the radiation killing it, dissolving it. She needed help or she would never get back. “Join me now. We need to get home.”

Home?

“We need to return to my- our body before it dies. There is only a limited time before the atomic fires wipe us away. We need help- need our host or we will go mad.”

I don’t understand, but show me.

They merged. Vostok felt the girl at the fringes of her psyche, full of wonder and just a little bit scared. Valentina Vostok held out her hand and felt the girl take it- Mysta- smiling, willing to follow. Together they drifted down into the body on the floor-

PAIN!

Mysta almost ran, but Valentina held tight, keeping her near. She had expected as much, but it was great, bright and burning. She wanted to run herself-

“Peace, child…”

The shadows drifted about, swirling, enveloping like a fog. They were cool, blessed darkness. Vostok opened her eyes-

It was the dark man in his archaic suit, his top hat and spectacles. The Shade…

Vostok blinked as the villain extended his hand, offering to help her to her feet. She could hear the girl buzzing in the back of her mind, but the words were a blur. Undecipherable drone.

“What…”

“You are needed, child,” Shade said with a frown. “The others gather, but the Anti-Life resides within you. You are the key- Child of Light and Darkness, Positive and Negative, Order and Chaos…”

“I don’t…”

“He will look to you for guidance as he once did. Do not spurn him.”

“Who?”

The Shade smiled, shadows swirling at his feet, rising. Light thickened-

“You will know…”

And the world faded away…

To be continued…

Story © Curt F 2005

Next Issue: The stunning conclusion of Twist of Fate as the JSA faces off against one of their own. How does Negative Woman fit in? Plus, the shocking return of…

Who?

Be here and see in… The Justice League!

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