The World's Greatest Superheroes.....
JLA #38- October, Year 4	by Will Short

Inspector Sawyer slipped into her seat and slammed the door. The cups she held filled the car with smells of cheap convenience store coffee. One she handed to her partner -- black; the other she took from between her knees. As she sipped it the steam fogged her sunglasses.

“Buckle up and finish your joe,” said Turpin.

The car had been running when Sawyer got in. Now it was lurching forward before she had a chance to reach for the shoulder strap.

“Where to?” she said.

Turpin turned up the crackling radio. Three suspects at Hob’s Bay. Bogdanove and Isabell Avenue. Shots fired.

“Hob’s Bay…” Sawyer said with a choked kind of laugh. She flipped on the siren. “Go ahead and call it Disneyland, it’ll still be Suicide Slum.”

“You and me know it. Hold on,” said Turpin. He then spoke into the radio. “Officers Turpin and Sawyer responding to Hob’s Bay disturbance. En route.” Back to Sawyer. “We been there. Anyone who has knows the same.”

Left of them was the river. Following it northwest, Sawyer found herself glancing between the landscape out her window and the speedometer. There was a gradual decay passing her by at 50 MPH: gold towers turned to brownstones turned to crumbling gray tenement buildings. Pedestrians were plucked away and replaced with men holding handwritten cardboard signs. They were traveling into what Turpin would call the site of the growth, the cancerous region, the tumor of the city. Sawyer was sure of one thing, it was no amazing journey.

A beep came from the radio, followed by a booming voice. “Turpin!”

“Chief.”

“Turpin, you turn your car around and get back to your beat, you hear me?”

“What’s that, chief?” said Turpin. “I’m sorry, bad reception. Seems mighty strange of you to chime in on dispatch.”

“There was no request for backup on that call, officer!”

Sawyer leaned in and said, “None needed, sir. You and us both know that there’s not a clean man or woman in the district.”

“Maggie--”

“You and us both,” Turpin said, “and don‘t you try and say otherwise. Now I wouldn’t have believed it myself if we hadn’t dealt with their staff during those Intergang murders last month. They’re incompetent and God only knows who’s slipping them an extra salary under the table. Keepin’ that place a rat’s nest and givin’ us a bad name, that’s all they’re good for.”

He took a gulp of his coffee.

“Give me a break, Dan. Folks are smart enough to tell the difference between Metropolis SCU and Suicide Patrol. Everyone knows Dan Turpin doesn’t even take free coffee when he’s on duty.”

Turpin dropped his cup back in its holder. “And it ain’t worth a dime. So we go up there and show them how things are done midtown.”

“You can’t keep doing this. What, are you going to drive the turnpike for every domestic disturbance? By the time you get there all that’ll be left is paperwork anyway,” the chief said.

“Then we make sure they get the books right,” said Sawyer.

The chief was silent. Dispatch conversations took his place so Turpin put the radio back.

“Hey Dan, you see that?” Sawyer said. “That. Coming up over there. Is it…?”

“Smoke.”

Turpin punched the gas. 55 MPH, 60...

A fire truck came screaming past them.

70 MPH…

The radio beeped again. A female dispatcher addressed them. “Chief says it’s your lucky day. New reports label the disturbance in Hob’s Bay SCU business.”

“We’re coming up on the scene now,” Turpin said.

Flames were visible now, hungry, pouring over rooftops. On Sawyer’s left was still the West River; on her right, a towering inferno swarming greedily up and through the block; before her, the wall of smoke. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and coughed.

“The smoke,” she said. “Can you see alright? It‘s getting hard…t-to breathe…”

Turpin had his arm across her chest and was giving the wheel a hard, screeching left when the fire truck sailed through the smoke wall and straight toward them. Windshield cracking, roof denting; the car teetered on two wheels before a tremor chasing the truck knocked them airborne. Sawyer couldn’t see -- the smoke, the way the car was grabbing her entire body and shaking it -- but she knew from her nausea that they were spinning and had a vague sense that it was still in the direction they’d been headed.

Sawyer was jolted; once, twice, three times she felt the car crash against the concrete, each time pushing the ringing in her ears to a greater intensity, iron taste in her mouth, broken glass like a strong rain, something inside her going pop, that crunch, crunch, crunching sound…

“Sawyer. Maggie, wake up. You gotta wake up, girl.”

When Sawyer opened her eyes the world came back to her in shards of sense. First Turpin’s voice, weak as she’d ever heard it. Gas fumes, roars of fire, a cold pinch in her abdomen that pinned her to her seat.

“I’m hurt something bad, Mag,” Turpin said.

And upside down, through a frame of broken, bloody glass, in the middle of what may as well have been Hell, were three men shooting guns and making fire.

J'onn J'onzz

Hawkman

Fire

"Man on Fire"
by Will Short

---

The Moon
JLA Watchtower

“Firefly and Solomon Grundy,” J’onn J’onzz said. He leaned over the keyboard and stared into the largest of the Monitor Womb’s screens as he typed. Smaller screens dotting the edges flashed images and text.

FIREFLY Real Name: Garfield Lyons Powers / Abilities: Insulated battle suit equipped with flamethrower, grenade launchers, and wings that allow flight. User Notes... BATMAN: A petty arson whose tech makes him a dangerous nuisance. Lyons has been more aggressive since more than half of his body was permanently scarred by burns. Another self-hating maniac that should be put away permanently.

SOLOMON GRUNDY Real Name: None Powers / Abilities Superstrength and invulnerability; undead nature makes him nearly impossible to kill. User Notes... FLASH: Solly changes personalities every time he reforms so you never know what to expect when he shows up. Maybe someday he’ll come back as a nice guy for once…or at least someone who wears deodorant.

Behind J‘onn‘s chair, Hawkman grunted. He said, “Grundy. Again. The third, who‘s he?”

“We’d find out sooner if Oracle were answering. Or Sue for that matter,” J’onn said. “She has a knack for trivia but her communicator has been switched off since Ralph’s funeral.”

“The less hangers-on, the better,” Hawkman said. “You’ve--”

“She’s an asset,” said Fire. She leaned over the console next to J’onn, looking over her shoulder and past a stray lock of green hair. “And a good friend.”

The slit eyes of Hawkman’s mask remained on the monitors, their glass reflecting the inferno being broadcast. “She’s a liability,” he said, then pointed. “You’ve got a match.”

HARDSELL REAL NAME: Unknown POWERS / ABILITIES: Super strength and invulnerability. USER NOTES… Superman: Steel (John Henry Irons) has faced this one before. According to him Hardsell relies on violence and intimidation more than his brain.

“Guns too, apparently,” Hawkman said. The enormous black man on the screen had an arsenal of firearms strapped to his body that rivaled Hawkman’s own traveling collection of ancient weapons. “And how do we not know his real name? He looks like a thug. I thought this was the Justice League.”

““What,” Fire said, “this? Us? Look around.”

“She faced the room. At the center was a table with the letters JLA at its center; around that, chairs. Everything -- the entire base, down to each seat -- seemed so empty, even compared to the barren moonscape and abyss of space visible through the room’s largest window.

““This is it. Ralph’s dead, we’ll probably never see Sue again…god knows what’s happened to Reddy. We scared Meridian off and can you really blame her? After what happened on her first day? Her first day…”

““Cowards. Both Meridian and Booster Gold,” Hawkman said. “People die in our line of work and it’s regrettable but--”

“Excuse me? What did you just say about Booster?” Green flames danced on the edges of Fire’s hair and eyebrows. Hawkman felt the heat emanating from her she was so close to his face. “Listen to me and listen good. Michael might be a lot of things but he’s not a coward. How many loved ones have you lost? People you care about.”

“Hawkman’s mask maintained its glare. “More than you could fit in your head.”

““Then you know. So is Sue a coward too for leaving? People die in our line of work and they don’t always come back. Okay? That’s not regrettable -- that‘s depressing, and it‘s dangerous, and it‘s scary. Next time you want to pass judgment on a stranger think about keeping it to yourself or I’ll melt those wax wings.”

““I’d like to see you--”

“J’onn was between them, an arm on either’s shoulder, saying, “That’s more than enough. Whatever team matters to be discussed, and I’m aware there are plenty, they can wait.

““Until then,” and he turned to Hawkman, “yes, this is the Justice League. Hardsell is a recent entry, a minor one. What Firefly and Grundy would want with him is anyone’s guess. We’ll find out more once they’ve been apprehended. For now we worry about putting a stop to this.”

“An explosion blinded the eye of the Monitor Womb’s main screen. Once the picture returned, bricks could be seen drawing fire-trails across great clouds of smoke.

““We…” J’onn’s attention was caught between Fire and Hawkman and screens, where the bricks’ arcs lead them into a fiery chasm. “I’m afraid the nature of the situation requires me to remain here. We’ll be in telepathic contact. Teleport to Metropolis and we’ll discuss strategies.”

“Hawkman and Fire exchanged a glance.

““After you,” Hawkman said.

““Oh sure, yeah,” said Fire. “Are you sure you don’t hang out with Booster?”

“She took a step away from J’onn. Starting at the toes of her boots, green flame climbed up her body. Followed by Hawkman, she flew toward the teleportation dock. “Because you are just hilarious…”

“The door slid shut in a snail-shell pattern of metal plating behind them. J’onn took a seat at the round table. He put his elbows on the tabletop and his face in his hands. On the screens behind him, the blaze raged on.

Metropolis
Suicide Slum

Sweat rushed down Jefferson Pierce’s forehead and into his eyes with a salty sting but he didn’t dare reach up to wipe it away. His hands were too busy generating enough current to disrupt the armor of the man who started the fires surrounding them for city blocks.

“Grundy!” Firefly yelled down, darting around electrical charges on his metal wings. “You ugly, retarded, stinking excuse for a zombie! Grundy! Backup! This guy’s tossing lightning bolts over here!”

“The name’s Black Lightning,” Pierce said. “Stick to your own neighborhood, kid. You thought Bats was territorial, you got another thing coming.”

Looking over the edge the rooftop, Pierce met eyes with one of the two man-shaped behemoths fighting it out below, the one he knew as Hardsell.

Hardsell cursed as he tightened his bandanna and said, “Gonna show you something about territorial next, pop. First this ashy--”

A chalk-colored fist the size of Hardsell’s head caught him across the jaw and thrust him back into a building that was quickly becoming a pile of flaming bricks. Hardsell’s nine-foot frame was more than enough to push it over the edge and it came down on him, buried him -- all of it -- in a burning hail.

Solomon Grundy stepped toward the pile and grinned his yellowing grin. There he stood, waiting, unmoving. Even when the pile practically exploded from within and covered Grundy’s tattered suit in brick dust, filling his pallid eyes, he did not blink as Hardsell erupted with a guttural howl.

“Man!” Hardsell said. What had been a tiny pair of black sunglasses perched on Hardsell’s nose was thrown into the concrete. “Stay down, punk!” He pulled out a handgun that was intimidating even in his paw of a hand and took stiff, deliberate steps towards Grundy.

Grundy stood grinning pointblank at the end of a pistol chamber. He kept doing so even as the bullet tore through the flesh between his eyes and out the back of his head.

“Die! Die, dammit! Stay down!” Three more fresh wounds in Grundy’s face. “Stay…down!” Another shot with each word. “Lay down and die, you freak! You punk freak!”

Hardsell pulled the trigger another three or four times before he realized it was no longer firing, only making a weak click. He looked down the gun’s chamber. The view extended straight through one of the holes in Grundy’s head and clear to the other side.

Still smiling. “Grundy like this game,” he said.

Hardsell cursed as he and the monster once again locked up.

Overhead, Firefly was still yelling, “Solomon Grundy, you worthless piece of…fine! Fine, Black Lightning, who knows my name even though we never met. I’ve heard of you.”

He reached for the pack strapped to his back and pulled out a gun attached by a cord. No aim taken, just a general direction. He pulled the trigger.

“When I tell the others I killed Black Lightning…”

Firefly had caught sight of the electron flares slithering off the sides of Black Lightning’s eyes before he fired. As the flame poured out of his gun, he swore he heard thunder. The next thing he remembered was laying on the ground with a bitter taste in his mouth and an ache in every muscle fiber.

Black Lightning still had sparks popping on his costume as he stood over Firefly saying, “Never been struck by a human lightning bolt, huh? Pretty new to me too. I never been shocked either but I hear it hurts like hell.”

“Suit. My suit. It won’t -- I can’t…what’d you--”

“Shut up about your suit!” Lightning said. “You think that matters? This is my home, man! My home! Look at it! You’re lucky I don’t fry you right here. How am I supposed to fix this? Huh? Look at me like when I talk, like you‘re some kinda man. Gimme that stupid helmet.”

Firefly jerked his head, saying, “N-no! Don’t!” Suddenly he was no longer looking through faceted ruby glass eyes. He breathed in a lung-full of smoke before he cried, “Put it back! Don’t look at me! Don‘t you look at me!”

“Who’d want to? A face like that. Is that why you do this? I feel sorry for you, son, but not that sorry.”

As Black Lightning dropped the helmet back beside Firefly’s head, he noticed the broad shadow that was slowly engulfing his own. Further and further it reached. Over everything else he smelled…what was it? Sewage?

Then he realized what it must be like to be a doll handled by a very rough child as giant fingers wrapped almost completely around his waist and yanked him into the air.

Solomon Grundy was squeezing him so hard he could barely breathe. One of his ribs cracked. He gritted his teeth, grabbed one of the monster’s fingers in both hands, and focused the pain through his palms.

“Tickles,” Grundy said.

From nearby Hardsell yelled, “Over here, freak!”

Grundy faced the direction of the voice and pulled his plaything with him. Grinning, he offered up Lightning, who was practically growling through the pain. Lightning wasn’t sure if he felt the bullet or heard the shot first but the fact was, he had a slug in his shoulder.

“Play time over,” Grundy said as he tossed Black Lighting to the side as easily as Hardsell tossed his pistol.

“We ain’t done yet,” Hardsell said, engaging the monster yet again.

Black Lightning had landed too far away too hear, only to watch. “Two…on one. Ain’t fair…” he said. His body begged him to lay there but he dug in and tried to get up. “C’mon, Pierce, c’mon.” When that failed he grunted and flipped over. That’s when he noticed the overturned, nearly totaled car down the block, a fire truck in a similar state further behind. In the car, he saw a man and woman both in uniform.

“Aw, Dan,” Lightning said. “What’d you go and get yourself into?” He managed to get to his knees. “Come on! Dammit!” He looked at the car again, then above. Something left a streak of green flame in the sky that was trailed by a man on wings.

Fire soared over the destruction, surveying it. She slowed for Hawkman to catch up. “Who is that?” she said. “Is that Black Lightning?”

“Good eye,” Hawkman said.

“Whatever. If he’s here alone…”

Hawkman rose higher, saying, “Then go check on him. I’ll handle this.”

“You’ll handle this?” Fire spun so that she flew backwards, back to the ground, so she could see Hawkman. “So you’ll just go ahead and absorb all this -- the fire right into your body? Oh! Wait a minute, that’s me! Guess you should go check on him.”

Bea is right, J’onn said. It was his voice but they weren’t hearing it with their ears; they were thoughts, not sounds.

“I said I’ve got it covered,” Hawkman said, then suddenly swooped. He fell on the fight in progress and planted his mace in the back of Solomon Grundy’s skull with a muffled thud, saying, “Grundy!”

Fire’s jaw dropped. She made a sharp exhaling sound from the back of her throat. “Did he just do that? J’onn, whoever this guy is…”

I know. I apologize.

“He’s a maniac,” she said, looping back around and descending.

Yet he’s effective. There’s still much we don’t know about this Hawkman. He seems to be neither my friend Carter Hall nor the Thanagarian that served in the last League, though he resembles both. His mind is like a labyrinth lined with hot coals.

“Keep that guy on a leash,” said Fire. Black Lightning held his head up in time to see Fire landing, the flames surrounding her burning away to reveal her green body suit. “And get him a muzzle while you’re at it.”

Black Lightning said, “Who you talking to?”

“J’onn J’onzz.” Fire caught him as his arms gave out. His arm over her shoulder, she helped him to his feet. “God, you look like hell. Look! Were you shot?”

“A little,” Lightning said. “Nothing compared how this place is looking. You said JJ was on the line?”

“Yeah. He‘s asking if he can contact you.”

Lightning stepped away. “I can stand, I can stand,” he said. “Tell him to go ahead.”

I’m here, Jeff. Bea, this is Jefferson Pierce, Black Lightning. Jeff, Bea DaCosta -- Fire.

“I’m sure we’ve met before,” said Fire, “probably when the world froze over. It’s hard to keep up.”

“Sorry if I don’t remember. Right now my world‘s burning down and I got two of the only good cops I know trapped in a car back there. Can you lift it?”

“Uh, no,” said Fire. “You can’t?”

Lightning shook his head. “What about that big fella with the wings? Is that Hawkman?”

They could see Hawkman, further away, as he grappled with Grundy. He gripped the monster’s collar, his feet stuck on its gut like he was scaling some great peak. When Hardsell squeezed off another barrage of bullets, Hawkman’s wings unfolded to their full width and deflected the gunfire every which way.

“Something like that,” Fire said. Her hair went fiery and she rose into the air again. “Come on, it’s gonna be hard to pull him away from a fight.”

Miniature lightning bolts flared out of Pierce’s eyes. “Folks are in danger. He can help. Nothing hard about that.”

“We‘ll see. Need a lift?”

“I got it.”

Bea blinked at the flash. She smelled static shock and heard a clap of thunder. There Black Lightning was, over with Hawkman. She watched Grundy swipe Hawkman back into Lightning as she followed.

“Let me handle these two,” Black Lightning was saying, barely able to catch the mass of feathers and muscle. “There’s two officers trapped under a car that need your help.”

A wing forced Lightning away. He noticed how dense its feathers were and imagined that, if Hawkman wanted to, he could knock Pierce a good one with it if he really wanted to.

Over his shoulder, Hawkman said, “We saw how you were handling it when we showed up. Leave this to the League. I’ve been dealing with Grundy since the Forties.”

“The League? As in the Justice League? What, Aquaman turn his communicator off?”

We’ve had trying times recently, Jeff. Hawkman, innocent people are in danger. Let the others subdue Grundy and Hardsell.

Hawkman reached to the leather straps on his chest. In one motion he plucked three shurikens and threw them at Hardsell. Two deflected off his chest and shoulder; the other embedded itself in one of Hardsell’s pistols.

“What?” Hardsell said, shaking the gun and discarding it. “You really want me to use my hands?”

“Try me,” said Hawkman. “Don’t order me around, J’onn.”

Don’t force me to -- do the right thing. I respect your experience and skills, Hawkman, but you said it yourself: this is the Justice League. We will not accept casualties.

“Let them--”

I WILL NOT.

Fire watched Hawkman buckle and fall to his knees, head in his hands. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to hold it together or implode it. J’onn had spoken to all of them just then but she wondered just what Hawkman had experienced differently. Despite herself, she smirked.

I…I apologize. Hawkman, are you…?

“He’ll be fine, JJ,” Lightning said, helping Hawkman up only to be brushed off again. “Are you okay?”

J’onn hesitated. Trying times, Jeff.

“I hear that. Car‘s over there, wings. Pray they‘re alright.”

Without a word, Hawkman flew close to the ground between Grundy and Hardsell and away, tilting nearby flames with the wind from his speed. Both the monster and Hardsell spun their heads to watch the blur before looking back at Fire and Lightning with eager eyes.

Fire hovered behind Pierce. “Anybody who talks to Hawkman that way, I’ll listen to, if you‘ve got a plan.”

“I might. JJ?” Talk to me, Jeff.

The Moon
JLA Watchtower

Seven screens and counting; J’onn was taking them all in at once. Almost without effort his many-eyed mind divided up the task of absorbing each detail thrown at him and filtered it through the wrinkles of his oblong brain. Small reserves were dedicated to broadcasting his plan to his teammates, with his rear lobe maintaining and directing the extra five arms he’d grown to operate the monitors.

Amongst helicopter shots and emergency channels, one of the smaller media windows caught J’onn’s attention. With a tendril-like finger he reached out and enlarged the screen. On it, a podium lined with microphones was left waiting -- flags and men in suits doing the same behind it -- for someone to approach and speak.

In the corner was an image of Earth and the letters GBS. J’onn watched; he listened.

Brought to you by Galaxy Communications.

Dramatic voiceover: “GBS Information Network, the world’s leader in modern news.”

Stern man in a suit. Perfect hairline, age indeterminate. The bar at the bottom contains his name and credentials. He speaks with conviction.

“We interrupt our up-to-the-minute report on the crisis in Hob’s Bay -- still in progress -- to bring you a hearing with Senator Henry Cale addressing the situation.”

Cut to press conference.

Senator Cale’s name appears on the screen’s lowest bar as he approaches the podium. Youngish but wears glasses, which he polishes on his tie before speaking. He is flanked above and below by scrolling stock reports.

“The governor has assured you, and I believe it, that we are doing everything in our power to aid Metropolis at this time. Our firefighters and MCPD are making sure of that, God bless them. But along the way someone was not doing their job, and that’s what really gets under my skin here. This could have been avoided. Whether it was Superman himself or one of those kids that just popped up out in New York…someone in the self-appointed superhero community should have put a stop to this before it even started.

“If they are going to operate outside the law, as over 75% of active metahumans do, the least they can do is take care of their own. Which, they promise to do. Sadly, what I see is more harm than good. I had the boys at STAR Labs look at some numbers, incidents, and trends. So-called superheroes are putting on the cape and cowl by the dozens, yet metahuman crime is at its highest ever. There are other concerned citizens like my wife and myself that are tired of this section of the population going unchecked -- tired of worrying not if but when we‘ll have another Coast City.

“Our prayers are with the people of Hob’s Bay. Please keep them in your thoughts.”

Cut to the anchor.

“We now take you back to the Galacopter in Metropolis, where Cat Grant has reported more emergent metahuman activity.”

Metropolis
Suicide Slum

Bea was surrounded by flame, practically swimming in it, dancing with it over the rooftops. The fires licked the sides of her face and, when they got close enough, were swallowed into her eyes and mouth.

“I feel like I‘m on my fifth plate of tacos here,” she said.

You’re doing fine, Bea, said J’onn. As Jeff is to electricity, you are to fire, and more. Feel it around you.

“Check.”

The flames are your fingers, your hands.

“Green Lantern,” Solomon Grundy said. “Where? Kill Lantern!” He brought both fists down where Black Lightning had been seconds before. Lightning watched the concrete fly up in pebbles as he landed on his side.

“I wish,” he said, in pain. “Wrong green flame.”

The monster crouched, staring up into the sky at Fire. He emitted a low growl. Lightning thought he heard something like a gurgle in it.

“No! No! They’ll come for you. You do this and they’ll kill you, I swear!”

Lightning cocked his head: Hardsell shoved the barrel of his gun into Firefly’s mouth. The latter remained on his back, only his head and neck able to jerk back and forth.

“Let ‘em try,” said Hardsell. His finger twitched slightly. Firefly’s bulging eyes darted back and forth between the gun and Black Lightning. “Mug like that, this is gonna be an improvement.”

BLAM

Over the car, Hawkman watched the buildings begin to burn green. It flowed through the flames like a venom and scorched the sky a mossy blue. Though the heat was becoming less intense he wiped his mouth of sweat and dug his fingers into the metal of the car.

There was a muffled voice inside.

His teeth fully bared and gritting, Hawkman began to push. The veins in his shoulders appeared; his throat made sounds of its own accord. He grabbed great fistfuls of steel that whined under the pressure.

At this angle, the car allowed him to hear the voice -- a woman’s. “Is someone there?”

“Yes,” said Hawkman through a sharp outgoing breath, which he used to finally push the car back onto its wheels with a few bounces. The female officer inside looked at him as if in a daze.

Finally she said, “My partner, Turpin, he’s injured.” The man was unconscious, face planted in the steering wheel. “I-I think I am too. My name is Maggie Sawyer. Metropolis P-Police Department…”

“My wife and I,” Hawkman said. Sawyer covered her face and yelped as Hawkman brought his mace down on the car’s mostly decimated hood and tore it open. “We were police officers.” He reached in and ripped the seatbelt off Turpin, sat him up. “Part of the job. Can you walk?”

“No. I don’t think so. The…seatbelt…”

She looked down. Hawkman’s hand went to her midsection.

“It stabbed into your stomach,” Hawkman said. “This will hurt.”

Maggie cried out as the cold was wrenched out of her gut and replaced by a sickening warmth.

“Mother…”

Hardsell shook the melted putty that had been his gun off his hand. He shook his head and said, “That almost hurt.”

Sparks of lightning still were trailing down Black Lightning’s arms as he crawled toward Firefly, who was screaming.

“Shot me! He shot me…”

“Yeah, me too,” Lightning said. He fished the bullet out of the armor on Firefly’s chest. “Stupid suit of yours caught it. Stop complaining--”

Black Lightning was yanked up by the back of his neck. He looked down a great length of muscled arm to see Hardsell.

“Big man,” said Lightning. “Shooting a guy when he’s down.”

Hardsell squeezed tighter. “Shut up,” he said, then threw Black Lightning away like so much trash. “Your turn next. First, this freak.”

Hardsell took Firefly’s head into his head, palming it. One squeeze and he could crush it, pop it like a sore.

“Y’all don‘t know who you been messing with. Neither of y’all. Put yourself in the middle of something outta your league, pop.”

Black Lightning watched, wondering if that was all he could do.

Away in the green-lit sky he saw it: a winged silhouette growing larger with each passing second. Black Lightning cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Hawkman!” he said. “The fire hydrant!”

The figure plummeted towards them, slicing through the air.

“Break it open! Break the fire hydrant!”

In one fell swoop Hawkman’s mace struck both Hardsell and the fire hydrant. By the time Hardsell was even aware, Hawkman was over Black Lightning, poised for more.

Lightning grabbed Hawkman’s ankle, saying, “Nuh-uh. Nothing you’ve got is gonna even give him a bruise.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Hawkman.

“Knock him into the fire hydrant,” Lightning said. He pointed towards the hydrant, which was a geyser now.

“I don’t--”

“Just trust me. Only way this guy’s going down.”

Hawkman waited, then nodded.

“Now help me up.” Once on his feet, Lightning said to Hardsell, “Hey! Gangsta!” Hardsell glared. “You’re calling me pops? This guy’s old enough to be your grandpa! Think you can take him?”

Almost immediately, Hardsell rushed Hawkman and who was already over the giant man’s shoulders and behind, swinging his mace with both arms. Hardsell took a few staggered steps but still wasn’t close enough to the hydrant.

“Come on, kid,” said Black Lightning.

Hardsell bellowed, charging at Hawkman, who launched into Hardsell’s stomach mace-first and plowed until he felt water.

“Get back! Now!” Lightning said.

Wings carrying him backward, Hawkman had a perfect view of Hardsell -- soaked from shaved head to boots -- as electricity coursed through his body. Many seconds passed, possibly a minute. Black Lightning gradually squeezed his hands into fists that focused the jagged crackles of energy into Hardsell’s body, which by this time was shaking violently. A stench crossed Hawkman’s nostrils.

Then the current was cut. The ground cracked where Hardsell fell, his body twitching in a puddle.

“Just wouldn’t go down…” Lightning said. He posted himself on side of the building.

Hawkman landed, checked Hardsell’s body. “He‘s alive.”

“Course he is. We’ll be lucky if he’s out for an hour.”

“What about Grundy?” Hawkman said. They both looked upward as they heard a great inhuman roar.

Solomon Grundy held onto the ledge of a rooftop. Behind him, down the side of the building, was a trail of broken brick. He yelled, “Kill Lantern! Kill!” and leapt off the side and onto Fire’s leg.

All the fire, Bea, she heard in her head. It’s yours to control.

“I get the idea,” said Fire.

The weight of the monster was bringing them both down. Bea felt like she was taking the deepest, longest breath she’d ever had -- her body felt as though it would split open, it was so full.

Now, Bea…

The helicopter -- GALAXY COMMUNICATIONS printed on its side -- maintained its altitude. In the back, the blonde in a suit said, “Tell me you’re getting this. Sam? Are you--”

“I’m getting it, Cat, I’m getting it,” said the cameraman.

Suicide Slum was reduced to the lens of his video camera, a bite-size moving snapshot. Fires that had been visible from the next city were pulling inward. All of Hob’s Bay seemed to lean toward its center, into its green, flaming pit suspended in the air. So bright, and then a flash…

Everything slammed left, jerked back to center. The cameraman blinked over and over and saw that the pilot was doing the same; Cat as well. A phantom image was burned into the back of their eyes: a woman in flame, of flame.

There had been a final frenzied growl that died away before the steaming remains of Solomon Grundy hit the ground. What was left was nothing more than charred mass with a vaguely human shape.

“Gross,” Fire said as she landed.

“Man, it’s freezing out here,” said Black Lightning. He held himself, shivering. “Pretty impressive, lady.”

“Yeah. I…didn’t know I had it in me…”

Hawkman squatted over Grundy’s remains, poking them with his mace. “He’ll be back.”

Not for some time, said J’onn. Right now, Firefly and Hardsell need to be dealt with. And you could use medical attention, Jeff.

Hawkman flung Firefly over his shoulder, saying, “This one passed out.”

“What about the two cops in the car?” Black Lightning said. “Turpin and Sawyer.”

“Follow me.”

“It’ll be a while,” Maggie Sawyer said. She was laid out in her back inside the ambulance. “I’ll be in a wheelchair the whole time. But I’ll walk again.”

“I’m sure,” said Black Lightning. A paramedic was seeing to his shoulder. “And Turpin?”

“Concussion, neck trauma. Should be awake and back to his old loveable self any time now.”

Black Lightning nodded. “But you two are gonna be off your feet for a while.”

“Yeah? So what. Keep it up,” Sawyer said. “Put a stop to this before it eats up all of Metropolis.”

Out of the ambulance and into the bustle of activity. Police cars, fire trucks, watchful helicopters circling overhead. Unmarked, armored men stepped out of armored, unmarked vehicles to lock away the bodies of Hardsell, Firefly, and Grundy. He found the others nearby.

“So tell me what just happened here.” Fire said.

“Not sure,” said Lightning, “but it’s looking like some kinda gang war.”

“Between who?”

“The 100’s involved, we know that for sure. We go way back…been a part of Suicide Slum long as I can remember. Me, Turpin, and Maggie, we were on it. Led me to a bust a couple weeks back. I get inside and it’s some kinda black market deal. All this alien tech for sale. Weapons, mostly.

“Used to be The 100 were just a bunch of hoods but recently they’ve been putting metahumans on the payroll. Took out some Intergang members a month ago. Pretty sure that’s where they got the tech.”

Intergang, said J’onn. Technology from Apokolips.

“Yeah. That‘s it. I’m lucky I made it outta there. Something went wrong -- someone else showed up, wasn’t too friendly with The 100. They got into it and I managed to make it out, but these other guys, they stole the merchandise, and The 100 just crawled back into whatever hole they’re hiding in.

“Hardsell‘s running with The 100. I was trailing him this week trying to get a lead. Then this happens.”

Fire said, “So Intergang and The 100--”

“No, no, not Intergang. They were just a target. Firefly and Grundy were with whoever crashed that deal and stole the tech.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know,” Black Lightning said. “But I’m gonna find out.”

“How?” Hawkman said. “Alone? Look at what happened today. If we hadn’t been there--”

“Yeah -- alone, if I have to. Dan and Maggie were the only two clean cops that’d even drive through Suicide Slum.”

“What about Superman?” said Fire.

Black Lightning furrowed his brow. “He’s Superman,” he said. “He can hear your heart beating but he doesn’t exactly keep his ear to the street.”

Then allow us help, J’onn said. The League’s resources are at your disposal.

“You guys ain’t busy saving another galaxy or something? Come on. I dunno. You know you’re my friend, J‘onn, but you know how I feel about the way things are run.”

I can assure you, the team is in something of a transitional period.

“If you couldn’t tell,” Fire said.

“Look, I don’t really need your help…”

You’ll find that working with the League allows you entry into places and access to people that could be very… beneficial to your case. My sources tell me that Hardsell and Firefly are headed to Belle Reve penitentiary right this moment by Amanda Waller’s special request.

Black Lightning felt the throbbing in his shoulder. He felt the sharp pain in his side, the countless bruises hidden beneath his costume, the ache in his muscles. He considered the baggy eyes that had greeted him in the mirror each morning for the past month.

“…well, I guess if you don’t have anything better to do you could tag along.”

Fire said, “Then it’s nice to be working with you, Black Lightning.”

“Please -- Jeff,” he said as he shook hands with Fire. “And you too.”

Next Issue: Visit the concrete walls and electrified bars of Belle Reve penitentiary with Hawkman, Fire, and Black Lightning as they interrogate the captured criminals. Just what’s been going on in Metropolis? Come back in 30 days to see if Amanda Waller runs a “House Made of Brick” or just a house of cards.

Who is the man on fire? It was one hell of a movie that gave me this issue’s title. How many of them are there in this story? On fire, burning down, burned out. Is it J’onn? Hawkman? Turpin? Black Lightning? Firefly? Grundy? Bea is obviously 100% woman, so...