What
led to this...
Revitalized
by Vandal Savage. Reborn in Dark Genesis. William
Zard had
a dream...
The Wizard first gathered power, subjugating Felix Faust to his whim
and trapping the sorceror within the Luck Stones of Bel; God of
Thieves. Next he gathered friends; his old and aging allies
from
the Injustice Society of America, and their progeny. Then he
gathered enemies...
Zard had died in Dark Genesis you see, a hero that went to Hell, but
found his way out with the help of others, like Orpheus, walking back
to the world of the living. There he learned of things that
might
have been, and once were; other worlds and dimensions shattered by
Crisis! He did not look back...
The Wizard created a new team of Outsiders to gather the things that he
would need; implements to recreate his version of Nirvana, another
Earth that lived only in memory. He recreated too, the Secret
Society of Super-villains to achieve his dream, tricking a cabal of the
world's direst villains, gathering tokens like an adamantine arrow head
and a cosmic rod to booster his might. Too, he gathered
souls;
the White Martians!
Zard gathered his flock and fold and fled the world, using his power to
recreate Earth 2 in his image; a happier, simpler time, where good and
evil were black and white and no one ever died. His Injustice
Society ruled Earth 2, displacing the Crime Syndicate of Amerika,
living his dream for months, battling the White Martians guised as the
Justice Society of America...
But there was unrest and boredom, and slowly his dream started to
fade...
Then came Krona!
A
dark force taunted Hal
Jordan
drawing him and
Parallax back. Subservient to Krona, Parallax set out to destroy the
universe
so his master could watch a new universe be born. The Watchtower
disappeared, teleported
into Limbo with its occupants onboard, removing them from the playing
field. Flash
and Jade find evidence that Parallax is involved. The other heroes
responded to
blowback disasters sweeping across the planet as Krona and Parallax
tore at the
edges of reality bringing about a Big
Crunch.
A
tale that began here at JLU: 2001 with Will Short's first magnificent
run on JLA, and has touched on almost every title since, will finally
conclude...
Earth-2:
Gotham:
Slaughter Swamp:
Yesterday…
Protex stared at the humans
gathered about him with disgust. The shadow man, the female
in the garish costume, the child with one of the most devastating
weapons in the universe, the Mutated freaks that should have been
slaughtered eons ago, and would have but for the simpering fools that
bled for mercy and suggested slavery instead. Only the
twisted elemental held any interest, and apparently a meager
intelligence, and it was his offering that kept the others alive.
For the moment…
“Speak, creature,” the White Martian hissed, his
long spiked tail swishing in agitation. He considered the
monstrosity; less than Human, more than man with his chalky, white skin
and bulk. His Martian sight could see the
creature’s connection to The
Gray in one spectrum, and
again to The
Green in another, though the
latter was tenuous, as thin and fragile as a blade of grass.
“You promised me Zard, yet you bring me unto this foul,
rotting mire. I warn you not to try my wrath,
monster.”
Protex narrowed his eyes, glaring as the monstrosity raised a hand of
negation with a smirk. His tail slashed at the
audacity. He was glad to be free of the binding form of the
Kryptonian; the Super-Man, but he was walking the razor’s
edge in keeping his ire in check. His thirst for vengeance
against Zard and his lackeys boiled like a seething pool of magma
within him. Zard would die a slow and painful death for the
humiliations that he and all of his ilk had suffered these past months.
“Relax, Martian,” the creature known as Solomon
Grundy said, his voice calm with a low, crusty rumble.
“None of us have any love for William Zard after what he and
his Society did to our world. Dethroning the
‘emperor’ has been our sole agenda these past
months, ever since he appeared with his Justice Society.
Little did we know that they, along with a lot of the many villains
that suddenly started to appear, were all aliens; White Martians to be
exact.”
Protex snarled and paced, his tail thrashing as he cast furtive,
glaring daggers at the mockery with his gaze. The creature
ignored him however, apparently without fear as his huge, chubby
fingers flew over the over-sized keyboard of a small folding
computer. Protex tried to suppress his impatience, his mind
straying from the backward technology of the apes of this world, barely
out of the trees. Instead he focused on the past indignities
he and his people had suffered, brought about by the Bat, and then
compounded by the one they call the Wizard…
The ploy of the White Martians to present themselves as heroes to the
Earth; the Hyperclan had been discovered, and they had been defeated by
the accursed Green Martian, J’onn J’onzz and the
Justice League. And the Bat…
The self-proclaimed Manhunter from Mars had then used his mental
abilities to suppress the personae of his paler, distant cousins,
creating new identities for each of the dozens that would rule his
adopted planet as they had eons past. J’onzz and
the Bat and the cow female witch had subjugated them, humiliated them
all by forcing a mesmerizing Human
form and psyche upon each and sending them off to wither in the mundane
triviality of Human existence. Protex, anointed leader of his
Clan had become a fat and sloth-like Human
who spent his days looking at images of
Human
children in vile and disgusting acts of fornication.
Months had passed thus, until Protex had heard the faint call of a
voice. Barriers shattered as foul magic slashed at the many
layers of J’onzz’ hypnosis, cast by an
arrow. There had been a brief moment of freedom and clarity
that was quickly sundered as a new persona took root. And
above all was the mocking face of Zard, the Wizard. Protex
had become, for all-purpose, a mockery of the Kryptonian, while his
kith and kin assumed the roles of others; the Bat, the Hawk, the
Canary…
And months passed again as they all played Zard’s games and
fantasies. It had been a never-ending battle of monotony; the
‘heroes’ of his Justice Society fighting the
villains, sometimes winning, sometimes losing, but always repeated over
and over, again and again.
If there was a Hell, then Protex was there.
But then the Elemental had come, with his chattel and had stripped away
the mental bonds, and Protex was now himself again, seething with rage
and a thirst for vengeance…
“Calm down, son,” the one called Grundy said,
snapping Protex from his memories and reveries. The Martian
stared at the creature, then shifted his gaze to the monitor of
the… laptop that he had turned about. On the
screen was a display of the world- Earth 2 he had learned- little green
pixels ablaze on the monitor.
“I assume you’re familiar with GPS?” the
creature asked, but Protex stared blankly at him. Grundy
sighed. “Global Positioning Satellites.
With the help of Owlgirl, I’ve typed in the Stats and unique
bio-functions of the White Martians and we’ve pinpointed your
people. They’re scattered about the globe, but most
are here in North Amerika, and right here in and around Gotham and New
York.”
Protex stared at the screen with renewed interest. His
people… his Clan was so near. “Which is
Zard?” he asked, his tongue lashing about his lips as he
hissed.
The
Gray creature tapped a
button, and the imagery on the screen changed after a few
moments. Protex saw a space station, crude and archaic,
formed mostly of metal. “Zard would be
here,” Grundy said. “The old headquarters
of the Crime Syndicate of Amerika, now the Hall of Injustice.
A big, fat egg just waiting to be cracked, if you get my
drift.”
Protex stared at the Elemental, and slowly his lips twisted into
something akin to a smile. He looked skyward as he gathered
his thoughts. Gray clouds rolled by overhead, pushed on the
edge of a breeze, a mounting storm. Shadows swelled, and a
darkness seemed to gather as he spoke, shouting with his
mind…
WAKE!
ROLL CALL: JLA
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| MARTIAN
MANHUNTER |
SUPERMAN |
THE
BATMAN |
THE
FLASH |
RED TORNADO
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ZATANNA |
ORACLE |
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| STEEL |
BOOSTER GOLD
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BLUE BEETLE
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ZAURIEL |
AZTEK |
MANITOU
RAVEN |
AQUAMAN
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ROLL CALL:
GUEST STARS
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| PROTEX |
SUPERBOY
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SOLOMON
GRUNDY
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POWER
RING V
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ROCKER |
CM3 |
SUPERGIRL |
Earth-1:
USA:
Gotham City
An early 19th century art deco tower loomed over Gotham’s gothic
skyline. Within, the tower's penthouse, Barbara Gordon’s
wheelchair faced a bank of computer screens. She pushed a stray
red hair back from her forehead as her eyes scanned the heroes she had
sent out to save the world.
A world that second by second descended deeper into Armageddon due to
the Big Crunch effects caused by Krona and Parallax’s meddling in
combination with the Wizard’s Earth-2 adventure and the Spectre
trying to hold the portal and stem the tide…but we’ll get
to that in a moment.
Earth-1:
Equatorial Guinea:
Annobón Province
Off the southwest coast of Gabon, further along the island chain
including São Tomé Island and Principe sat
Annobón. With a population of approximately 5,000, the island
was an extinct volcano, heavily forested and covered in luxuriant
foliage.
But today, the volcano was smoking and occasionally belching rocks and
sulfur. And huge waves were crashing on the shoreline…huge and
growing waves.
Oracle’s quickly drafted team arrived at the island.
Aquaman, the King of the Seven Seas, called out telepathically to every
whale pod within his mind’s range. Directing the mammoth sea
mammals, he drove them to disperse the wave action. A small pleasure
craft capsized nearby. Raising his mystic prosthetic, Aquaman allowed
the blue crystal of Libra to swim to the surface. A blue beam of energy
shot from his hand, balancing the small craft and pushing it to the
shore of Annobón.
A red caped figure walked up the slopes of the Annobón volcano.
Dr. Mist, one of the founding leaders of the Global Guardians and the
former wizard king of Kor, stood glaring up at the looming bulk of the
volcano. The crater lake at its heart flashed to steam as the heat and
sulfur continued to rise. Glancing over his shoulder, the man once
called Nommo saw Aquaman acting to protect the island from the rising
seas. Fishing boats, trawlers, and whatever could float were being used
to evacuate the island, getting the people to Equatorial Guinea or
Gabon.
“Not nearly fast enough,” Dr. Mist murmured.
Turning, he strode purposefully to the edge of the crater. He stretched
his hand over the steaming crater of the volcano. “By the power
of Pillar of Life,” he intoned, “by the heart of mighty
Kor, by the Guardian of the Gate, the Masters of the Waters, the
Monitors of the Sacred, and the Teachers of the One…Still
thyself restless Spirits of Earth. Quench thyself Spirits of
Fire.” His hands shook as he thrust them out over the crater.
A wind arose, billowing out his red cape, revealing the Egyptian cut of
his uniform in green and white. The yellow mystic gems at his forehead,
chest, and stomach flared with magical energy.
The yellow gleam of the mystic gems slowly faded…and along with
the fading, the trembling of the Earth and the steaming of the crater
subsided.
Exhausted, Dr. Mist pulled a walking staff from its dimensional hiding
place in his cloak. He leaned on the staff, catching his breath.
Below Dr. Mist, near the Annobón city of San Antonio de
Palé, the Danish superhero and one of Dr. Mist’s Global
Guardians, the Little Mermaid was flying back and forth like a fiend
along the waterfront, helping people onto escape boats, keeping the
peace between the frightened people, and doing whatever needed doing as
Armageddon rushed toward these poor people.
A mother stood near the end of one of the docks waiting her turn.
She held one child in her arms and tried to keep track of her other
three children. Her scream cut the air. She heard the people on
the dock screaming in Spanish. “La Madre de Dios! El
chico!” They pointed at the water. A few of the men kicked off
their shoes, preparing to dive in. A heavy wave lifted and slammed
against the edge of the dock.
Glancing below, Ulla Paske saw the little boy’s head disappear
into the water just a few feet off the dock.
Ulla was born the hybrid daughter of a Danish lightkeeper and an
Atlantean woman. Early in life, her ability to change her legs
into a mermaid tail had manifested itself. A few years later, she
discovered she could breathe underwater. And when she reached her
teenage years, she gained the ability to fly. She had visited
scientists from Cadmus, to the Dome, to LexCorp, to STAR, and in both
Themyscira and Poseidonis, but no one could tell her if other powers
remained to manifest.
At the moment she heard the scream, she was cruising about 75 feet
overhead. Directing traffic via a headset tuned to the local
military and civil service bands.
She dove headlong toward the sea below. She allowed the instantaneous
transformation to take place. Her legs disappeared, begin replaced by a
fish tail with long flukes.
SPLASH! She struck the water a few feet from where the boy had
disappeared. Moments later, she erupted from the sea with the
child in her arms. With him coughing and sputtering, she returned
the young boy to his mother.
Clasping the child to her bosom, the mother cried out her thanks to the
Little Mermaid. “Gracias! Gracias!” She said, touching her
hand to her forehead as tears welled in her eyes.
Ulla helped the small family onto the next available rescue boat and
returned to her job coordinating the evacuation.
20 minutes later, Aquaman and the whale brigade lost their battle with
the tsunami. The wave rolled in. Thirty feet high at 50 miles per
hour…half the strength that it would have been…the
destruction was still horrible…but not nearly what it would have
been without his intervention and that of the two Global Guardians.
Earth-2:
Gotham City:
The Clown Prince of Crime ran in the driving rain, his heels clacking
out a staccato rhythm as he dashed across the gravel-strewn tar-papered
roof. Lightning flared, and a moment later thunder slammed down,
booming with a ferocity that drowned out his laughter. He
squealed in delight.
It was glorious!
He charged forward as the rain trebled in intensity. He could
barely see, and the winds lashed at him, purple coattails flapping as
he charged forward towards the edge of the rooftop. He knew that
the Bat was hot on his heels, but he did not care as he leapt, his thin
body almost flying as it soared over the streets a dozen stories
below. He laughed, a maniacal thing that echoed off of brick and
steel as he touched down, skidding on the slick stone of the
neighboring building. He staggered, almost fell, but plunged on,
giggling insanely, caught up in the thrill of the chase.
He gagged as he felt a sudden tension binding his throat. A quick
jerk and he was sprawled on his ass, gasping for breath as his chest
heaved from the exertion of the race. He looked up with wild,
staring eyes to see a dark shadow fall over him. He smiled and
started to laugh as the Bat drew his gun…
“It ends here, Joker,” the dark and stoic avenger said,
putting the barrel of his Luger dead between the clown’s
eyes. The Joker tried to focus on the gun, and then on the man
that held it, and finding it impossible to do both, started to laugh.
“You won’t do it, Bat-Man!” the Joker squealed in
delight, his eyes blazing with insanity. “You don’t
have the balls! Do bats have balls? Or do they have
bases? Baseball? Batball? Batboy? How is Robin,
by the way? Little Gay Wonder still eating oatmeal with his teeth
caved in? Ha… Ha-Hah… Ha-Hah-ha-hah-Hah-Hah!”
The Joker stared at the pale white slits where the Batman’s eyes
should have been. He saw the scowl that his favorite plaything
wore and actually had a moment of sanity as he realized that he might
have gone too far. He saw the Batman’s trigger finger
twitch –
Wake!
A-Mortal stared up blinking at Tronix as the pounding rain slammed down
about them. A cold wind whistled past as both shifted form, the
Bat and the Clown fading into nightmare, months of degradation
collapsing into foul memory, tumbling like dominoes. Tronix cast
the archaic slug-thrower aside, looking up as a voice whispered…
Come!
Tronix and A-Mortal rose into the stormy skies over Gotham and soon
disappeared, lightning crackling in their wake…
Earth-1:
USA:
Fawcett City:
The StarCore Solar Center
Designed years ago by Dr. Bruce Gordon, the mirrored edifice of the
Solar Center was a state-of-the-art solar reactor directly converting
sunlight into electricity, along with being responsible for other solar
energy experiments. The energy output of the facility had spiked
over the last few hours drawing Oracle’s attention. After
calling around, she had found two likely candidates to check on the
building before a rogue sun was born in downtown Fawcett.
Solar activity, in response to the cosmic fluctuations caused by the
Big Crunch, was at an all time high. Solar flare activity was on
the rise and observatories across the planet were reporting some of the
highest energy readings ever recorded.
A rumble vibrated the bedrock beneath Fawcett and, a few moments later,
the already heavily strained containment bubble in the solar reactor
fractured allowing energy to burst free.
Dr. Binton Krell was standing a few feet from the reactor when the
fracture occurred. First, he was struck by a blast of ionic
energy from the reactor’s control rods. This was followed,
moments later, by his being bathed in pure concentrated solar energy as
the power bled from the cells in the reactor.
“My word!” He cried as the energy washed over him,
vaporizing his skin, leaving him a ragged burned half skeleton…a
glowing, super heated, ragged, burned half skeleton…still
standing on its feet and very much alive.
He turned from the reactor and began making his way toward the
exits. Two security guards saw the glowing apparition walking
toward them. They pulled their guns. “Freeze right
there, buddy!”
Dr. Krell gestured in a shooing motion. “No need for all
that,” he said, “I’m Dr….”
He didn’t complete the sentence as a flash of super-heated energy
shot from his hand striking the nearest officer melting him into a waxy
puddle. The other security officer seeing what had happened to
his partner exercised the better part of valor at that point and ran
like hell.
Captain Marvel Jr and Ibis were both overhead a moment after the
reactor accident in response to Oracle’s call.
“Ibistick, quell the escaping radiations back to a normal
level,” the ancient Egyptian mystic commanded his magic
wand. A cooling, magical green rain began falling on the Solar
Center. Radiation levels fell back into the green.
CMJ raced into the Solar Center with the speed of Mercury. He
quickly checked through the building moving the injured out to triage
with the paramedics down the street and evacuating the uninjured as he
found them.
Toward the center of the building, he found a large crack in the wall
of the reactor. Grasping the heavy Promethium shielding, he
called on the strength of Hercules and the power of Zeus to pull the
crack shut. “Now to get Ibis down here to seal this up and
we can move on to those waterspouts that are appearing out on Lake
Fawcett.”
He glanced around. The shadows on the wall shrank. “Is it
getting brighter in here?” He asked as he turned…only to
find himself staring into the face of a glowing, mostly immolated man.
Dr. Krell had given up trying to speak. His vocal cords, what
remained of them, were a burned lump held in place by a thin strip of
flesh near the base of his throat. He raised his hands to ward
off the young man in the blue costume with the lightning bolt motif on
the chest. Off and to make him get away from him. If
he could only get these people to leave him alone, he could get to his
lab and see about stopping his dissolution. In the few minutes
since the accident, he could feel his body burning away from the ionic
and solar energy that he had absorbed. A yellow force blast of
solar energy ripped from his hands striking CMJ blasting him backwards.
Freddie crashed into the far wall of the reactor maintenance
room. As he fell to the ground, he noticed the jellied remains of
the security guard.
Unnoticed by Dr. Krell or Freddie, an indicator on the pressure gauge
on the solar reactor slid toward the red. Freddie launched
himself at the solar zombie creature. The courage of Achilles
drove him to attack this nightmare beast.
Another solar blast tore from Dr. Krell striking CMJ.
Atlas’s stamina and Zeus’s power combined to help Freddie
cross the room in the face of the searing, high temperature blasts
coming from the skeletal mute creature who was trying to cook
him. Energy flared from this Immolated Man’s aura, a
visible wave of heat and flame emanated from him.
The concrete beneath Freddie’s feet cracked from the intense
heat. The very air of the room seemed on the verge of bursting
into flame. Freddie raised his fist to strike the creature with
all of Hercules’ strength…only to feel as if the entire
world was dropping away from him as Dr. Krell discovered the ability to
generate gravity waves.
CMJ found himself feeling as if he were on the floor of the
ocean…or on Jupiter…and suffering from the flu…and
running a high fever…all at the same time. He still moved
toward his target but he had slowed severely.
At that moment, Ibis entered the battered solar reactor room.
Alarms sounded on the solar reactor screaming their warnings as the
pressure gauges pegged against their stops. The reactors built
toward a solar energy explosion.
Raising his magic wand, Ibis gestured. “Ibistick, release
the pressures from this apparatus safely and in a measured
fashion.” His command sent a yellow blast of energy
shooting forth engulfing the reactor. A whistling roar erupted in
the room as the pressure reduced to a working level.
“Ibis…” CMJ groaned.
Ibis turned to find himself face to face with the Immolated Man.
“Ah, the glowing skeleton,” he said, flicking his magic
wand toward his assailant. “The security guard told me what
you did to his partner. Ibistick…”
The Immolated Man backhanded Ibis, slapping the mystic across the
maintenance room. “Blame me for all of this will
they?” Unvoiced due to his incinerated vocal cords, Dr.
Krell seethed, as the pain and the anguish of his body penetrated his
senses.
CMJ reached toward Ibis, but the gravity on him continued to build as
Dr. Krell attempted to crush him.
Ibis snatched his wand from where it lay near his hand. The
Immolated Man advanced on him. “Ibistick remove this
monster’s energy source.” A yellow-orange emanation
radiated out of Dr. Krell’s body. For a moment, Dr. Krell
stood, trying to blink his eyes, before falling dead inches from
grabbing Ibis.
With the Immolated Man’s defeat, CMJ felt the gravity well
release him. Ibis helped his young friend up. “Come,
young Marvel. We’ve still got a city to save.”
Freddie shook his head, looking down at the Immolated Man.
“He fought us to a standstill. For a moment there, I was
worried.” A troubled look on his face, he asked, “Is
he dead?”
Ibis shook his head. “When I removed the solar
energy,” he shrugged, “I fear that was all that was keeping
him alive.”
KLANG! The Promethium steel door slammed shut as the two Fawcett City
heroes left the reactor maintenance room. In the darkened room, a
dull, pale glow emanated from the empty eye sockets of the Immolated
Man’s skull.
Earth-2:
Keystone City:
A lavender blur whipped along the length of Infantino Avenue in the
blink of an eye, lightning crackling in its wake. A crash of
thunder rolled on its heels, setting off car alarms and shattering
glass in passing. Men gasped and grabbed at their hats in the
swirling back draft, staggering in the sudden change of pressure that
enveloped them. Women screamed, holding down skirts as their hair
swirled wildly…
The Icicle smiled and raised his hands; a wisp of frosty vapors rising
as his henchmen cowered behind him. Idiots, he thought as the
temperature dropped about them, the air suddenly chill and crisp.
“You should be used to this by now,” he spat, grinning ear
to ear as ice flowed seemingly from his fingertips to later the street
before them all, in the path of the oncoming blur.
“We’ve done this dance too many times. We always
win. Have faith.”
Icicle splayed his fingers, coating the street before him with a slick,
silvery sheen of ice; the gutters and cars, the curbs and sidewalks, up
the walls of the buildings and about any hapless pedestrian too slow or
stupid to get out of the way. If they froze solid and shattered
in the sonic boom of the encroaching speedster, he did not care.
He had no ties to anyone on this fractured mirror universe Earth.
This was not his world.
He could not understand why so many of the others had left. This
was fun, and easy pickings. It was like a video game; just enough
challenge to keep you interested, but never hard enough not to get to
the next level. But for some reason, one by one the others had
left.
The old farts first; the Wizard’s geriatric group, starting with
the Shade. No loss there as far as Cameron Mahkent was
concerned. Old man gave him the creeps, always watching
everything over the top of those dark John Lennon shades he wore.
And Zard had taken that one in stride, like he had expected it.
But when Per Degaton had quit, the Wizard had actually seemed a little
shaken up. And Icicle had not been the only one to notice.
Then Sorrow and Savage, Rival and even the second generation joined
in. Now there was only a handful of the Wizard’s Injustice
Society left.
“Fuck it,” Icicle said with a sneer. “More for
the rest of us.”
Wizard and Star Sapphire never left the satellite, and the Thinker
couldn’t as far as he knew. And of course the Fiddler if
you could count a crazy old man that sat and stared out the windows in
his soiled Depends, drooling all day long. That let Icicle and
Ragdoll have free reign, and that was fine with Cameron Mahkent.
Ragdoll was lost over in the Opal, and Icicle was having way too much
fun in Keystone to care-
Wake!
“Wha- “
The flash of lavender vanished like a roil of smoke dispersing on the
breeze. Icicle stared, licking his icy lips and scanning the
street, wondering what new trick the Flash might have thought up to try
and stop him. He seemed to have disappeared with only his
trailing winds left in his wake.
“Keep an eye out,” Icicle warned to his latest henchmen,
three thugs he had found down in the Bowery that wanted to get
rich. They were his fourth set, the others having retired they
had made so much money. Like the others, these had complained
having to wear the ‘silly’ stocking hats and winter
gear. They had learned.
“Gack!”
Icicle turned, his eyes widening as his stomach threatened to expel the
French toast and bacon that he had had for breakfast as he took in the
sight suddenly before him…
‘Chilly’ was on his back on the ground with his chest
ripped open. Blood was oozing out of him, pooling beneath him and
steaming in the frigid zone about them all. ‘Snow
Job’ had been ripped in half; his upper torso splattered against
a nearby car and slumped into the ice-choked gutter. Icicle did
not even bother to look for the lower half of his henchman as he stared
at the… thing that towered before him.
It was like seven feet tall, and white, scaly, ugly alien freak that
should have been out in space making Sigorney Weaver’s life hell,
not his. It had huge, dagger like teeth and a tail covered in
spikes that was at the moment wrapped about the throat of
‘Frosty’. His henchmen’s eyes were bulging as
he kicked, suspended a good three feet over the street. Icicle
heard a ‘Snap’ as the creature eyed him, a long, forked
tongue sliding through grinning pale lips.
Come!
Icicle was an ass, but not an idiot. As soon as he saw
Frosty’s head loll to the side his hands flew to his belt and the
Recall Button. There was a sickening lurch and a terrifying
heartbeat as the white monstrosity seemed to stretch, his gaping, fang
filled maw shooting for his throat…
And then the world mercifully faded away…
Zum snarled as he pulled his form back into shape. He felt the
weight of the slight body hanging limply in the grip of his tail and
released it, letting it fall to the street with a wet thump. He
looked skyward…
He rose into the air and soared upwards, heeding the call.
Vengeance would come.
Earth-1:
USA:
Kansas
A gigantic dust storm hovered over the Great Plains, blotting out the
sun. Funnel clouds ripped down from the storm’s eddying
currents. The supercells of the storm birthed monstrous tornadoes
over northeastern Kansas, isolating the cities of Smallville and
Grandville. Massive static in the atmosphere blotted out radio
and television signals leaving many unaware of the disaster bearing
down on them.
A blue jean-clad missile in a black t-shirt rocketed along in the
storms’ path. Conner Kent, Superboy, snatched people here
and there, getting them out of the storm’s path when possible or
bedding them down in nearby storm cellars when it wasn’t.
High above his head, a red blur whipped among the thunderheads. A
swirling crimson funnel chased in the Red Tornado’s wake as he
tried to quell the rampaging storms.
An idyllic, small farmhouse in a sea of cornfields stood with a huge
funnel cloud bearing down on it. The tornado tore the outer wall
of the house away, sucking all the windows out. The roof lifted
off. Tossed high into the sky, the roof would later be discovered
ten miles away laying in the middle of State Route 249.
Conner spun as he heard a mother's wail. The woman clutched at
her daughter as she was sucked out of her arms by the storm. In
the space of a breath, the little girl was 100 feet above the Kansas
prairie and rising. She watched helplessly as her daughter was
sucked up into the storm. The violent twister tore away across
their cornfield, digging a furrow as it went, leaving the bare skeleton
of the house standing.
Moments later, 110 feet above Kansas, Superboy snatched the girl from
the embrace of the Crisis driven storm. Shielding her from the
rain of debris with his invulnerable body, he dropped through the
swirling winds and dust, landing on the lawn of the damaged home.
He handed the little girl back to her mother.
"Thank you, Superboy. God bless you," she cried as she clutched her
daughter. Kissing the little girl’s forehead as her father and
brothers ran up to them.
The young man nodded to the family. "She's okay. Shaken up
but no broken bones that I can see. You should all get into your
storm cellar. I'm not sure these storms are over yet."
He touched the girl's cheek with his palm. "Tank you, Sooperboy,"
the little girl said.
He smiled. "You're welcome, darlin'," he said with a smile as he
rose into the sky turning for the storm track and racing off at
superspeed.
Earth-1:
Gotham City
On Oracle’s computer screens, heroes worldwide fought against the
ripple effects of the Big Crunch. Superboy and Red Tornado chased
storms in Kansas. Zatanna, G.I. Robot, and the Creature
Commandoes faced an ancient, monstrous, deep sand worm awakened in the
Mojave Desert by the energies sweeping across the globe. Booster
Gold and Blue Beetle evacuated powerless high rises in an earthquake
assaulted downtown Chicago. Supergirl, Alpha Centurion, and
Airwave busily evacuated the Stryker’s Island Correctional
Facility as a volcano rose on the seaward side of the prison.
“I hope someone is on to the source of this madness,”
Oracle murmured.
Earth-1:
Metropolis:
Steelworks
The warehouse lab shook as the volcano across Metropolis Harbor rumbled
radiating tremors through the bedrock beneath Metropolis. Dust
rained down from the steel supported high ceiling.
“Shouldn’t we be helping with that?” The gold and
white clad Aztek asked gesturing at the monitor screen showing the
volcano on the far side of the harbor.
“According to Oracle, there is a team already on it,” Steel
responded.
“Let’s get you hooked up to some scanning equipment,”
Steel gestured for Aztek to lay down on the exam table.
“Batman may have a way for us to find out what’s causing
all this.” He attached leads, wires, and scanning equipment
to Aztek’s helmet.
Aztek jerked as some of the wires sank into the helmet’s
polymorphous surface attaching to hidden electrodes and power relays.
“Easy, kid,” Steel soothed. “I doubt the helmet
would let me get this close to it if it perceived any of this stuff as
a threat.”
Breathing deeply, “I know, Dr. Irons. Pointy stuff near my
eyes,” he shrugged and tried to relax.
“There,” Irons tapped Aztek on the chest.
“You’re good.” He turned to the panels and
monitors as they started to light up with readings and scans. His
hands flew across the main control board for the huge lab. The
keyboard was large, built to allow easy use when he was wearing the
Steel gauntlets. His armor stood to one side of the platform,
open, and ready to be boarded at a moment’s notice. The
testing platform equipment rose into position around the working
platform. The leads running in and out of Aztek’s helmet
buzzed and glowed as energy readings raced back and forth between
Steel’s computers and the helmet’s onboard energy and
operating systems.
Resonant energy levels were recorded and correlated as Steel’s
machinery used Aztek’s power source to scan the surrounding
transdimensional spectra.
“Steel,” Aztek pointed at an empty area of the
warehouse. “I can see ripples and strange designs floating
in the air. The helmet is acting like the phenomena are familiar,
but it’s not giving me access to the explanations of the
data.”
“Hold on, son,” John Henry Irons answered from his
seat. “We didn’t get a lot of usable data out of the
original Crisis when it occurred, but some of these energy patterns are
close.”
“That’s bad?” Aztek asked.
“Very,” Steel responded, hitching his finger over his
shoulder at a figure that Aztek hadn’t noticed.
No flare of energy marked his arrival, no sound either. A
blue-clad, brooding figure sat in a highly instrumentalized floating
chair. His chin rested on one hand as he leaned forward studying
the two JLAers.
“Who’s he?”
“Metron.”
“What’s a Metron?”
“Think Batman without the social skills, a higher intellect, and
a godly dose of hubris,” Steel stared at the silent New God who
sat watching the scans run across the computer screens.
“Maybe equal amounts of hubris,” he quietly quipped to the
Q Foundation’s young disciple.
Ten minutes of tracking energy emanations and following etheric trails
through plasma space later, Steel said, “we have to get to
Superman’s Fortress. There’s some equipment there
that I need to access.” Moving to his armor, he stepped
into it, allowing the interface to lock onto him. The armor
melded around him, powering up and comfortably seating around his
body. Flexing his gauntleted hand, his hammer and cape deployed
from their storage areas within the armor.
Aztek raised an eyebrow as he pulled the helmet lower on his head,
seating it. “Superman’s summer house, huh?
Cool. Never seen it.”
“Cool is a good way to describe it. If we’re going to
visit the Fortress, I needed to dress formal,” Steel answered
with a smirk. He hit a button and the roof of Steelworks cranked open.
As the armor molded around him, John asked the still silent, blue clad
New God, “Will you be helping us or are you just going to sit and
watch as the world dies?”
Metron sat leaned forward in a thinker pose on his floating Mobius
chair. His eyes bore intently on the information scrolling across
Steel’s screens. Slowly, as if just realizing where he was,
Metron raised his chin from where it rested on his fist.
“I’ll assist in the ways that I deem necessary,” the
New God answered.
Frowning, Aztek caught John’s eye. “Why doesn’t
that fill me with confidence?”
Steel shrugged. “You get used to it from some of the cosmic
types.”
Moments later, Aztek, Steel, and Metron flew from the open roof of the
Steelworks warehouse.
Limbo:
Necropolis
Superman, J’onn J’onzz the Manhunter from Mars, and the
Fallen Angel Zauriel stood on a rocky outcropping. Spread below
them was Necropolis, the City of the Unaffiliated Dead, a twisted city
populated by lost souls. These people stood between Heaven and
Hell inhabiting a Switzerland in the war between Good and Evil. A
dusty trail ran from the escarpment where the Watchtower had come to
rest toward the city. In the distance, small groups of travelers
made their way toward the city. Noticeably…ominously,
there weren’t any groups or individuals leaving the city.
Superman raised his arms and leaped to fly…only to find himself
caught by the arm and yanked back by J’onn. For a brief
second, he had felt the odd gravity of this place grab him and he was
certain that if J’onn hadn’t caught him, he would have
tumbled down the rocky cliff face below them. “Flight
doesn’t seem to work here,” J’onn said by way of
explanation. “I tried a few minutes ago.”
The three set off down a narrow goat track along the cliff’s
edge, working their way down to the plain below and the dust track that
lead toward Necropolis. They walked the road in the wake of one
of the groups of faceless pilgrims who approached the city from every
direction.
A sudden eruption of dust seemed to cause the city to leap in their
direction. A new suburb appeared in Necropolis. The city
had tripled in size just in the short time that the three Leaguers had
been observing it. As each ripple rolled through Earth-1 or
Earth-2 people would disappear from the outer dimensions and be
deposited here.
As they neared the city, they began encountering the small groups of
people moving about. All of them, without exception were The
Faceless. All wandered along listlessly, going about business as
if they were still alive…doing all the things that they did
before this existence claimed them. Imagining the people and
places that they knew in life, their mind’s eyes filled in the
details of the world about them in accordance with their needs and
sense of self.
Superman stepped in front of one of the Faceless men.
“Sir,” he said, “we need some
directions.” The man stepped around him, ignoring
him. Clark glanced sidelong at J’onn.
“There wasn’t any indication that he was aware of you. He
avoided you in the same way that you or I would a telephone pole in our
path,” the Martian Manhunter explained. “They
perceive us, but only in ways that make sense to their
illusion…delusion.”
Zauriel stepped to Superman’s side. “We could try to
force one of them to notice us and try to get some answers,” he
suggested.
“What would that do to them?” Superman asked.
Zauriel shook his head. “There’s no way to
know.” The angel’s mouth set in a grim line.
“If we awaken one, they may never be able to go back to this
existence. We could be damning them.”
Superman glanced around at the city and its faceless multitudes.
“You mean…more than they already are,” he said with
an incredulous hint in his voice.
“Don’t underestimate the depths of Hell and damnation,
Superman,” Zauriel warned the Man of Steel. “There
are worse things…worse places…more horrible masters than
the ennui of this place.”
“We have to find the master of this place somehow though,”
J’onn put in. “There is a mystic fog that hangs over
it. All encompassing. Dire, yet empty. I worry that
if I try to penetrate it too deeply with my mind, I wouldn’t be
able to find my way back to my body.”
Zauriel nodded. “It wouldn’t surprise me. The
curses on this place from both Heaven and Hell make it a dead zone, a
great sucking vortex of nothingness.” As he said that, a
troubled look crossed his face as he stared up into the white blank sky
of Limbo.
“I don’t see that we have any choice,” Superman
stated in a troubled voice as another street materialized out of thin
air. “The city is growing faster than we could search it
with our limited powers.”
Zauriel turned his head quickly as if he had heard an unexpected scream
or shout. “Maybe we do have a choice,” the gold
armored Angel of the Pax Dei said. “Follow me,” he
lead them off through the side streets and alleys of the Necropolis
quickly.
As they moved through the streets, Zauriel explained, “Time
isn’t linear in Limbo. People, places, and things exist in
multiple places at multiple points in chronal relation to one another,
all at the same time. If you stay here too long, you imprint on
this place…and it imprints on you.”
“Doesn’t that violate an Einsteinian principle or
two?” Superman asked.
"The science of Einstein doesn't really apply here. They should
be right here…somewhere," Zauriel said glancing about as they
reached the mouth of the alley. A busy street greeted them full
to the brim with the Faceless. Zauriel’s eyes slitted a moment as
he scanned the crowds looking for someone. "This way." He led
them around a corner.
Stopping ahead of them, Zauriel briefly fluttered his wings, seating
them tightly against his back. "Quiet now. It wouldn't do for
them to notice us. Look over there." Surreptitiously, he gestured
across the busy street.
Across this dusty street, in the city of Necropolis, buried deep within
Limbo, three figures semi-reclined on the curb. One of them
groaned softly in his sleep. His chin rested forward on his
chest. His skin wrinkled and pale. A black beard shot
through with gray depending across his chest mostly covering the faded
red and yellow S sigil displayed there. Beside him sat a wizened,
wrinkled, and angular Martian. The green had lightened in his skin over
time giving him a washed out look. His red eyes glimmered only
dimly. Beside them sat an ageless pale angel in golden
armor. Old Zauriel stared across the street and slowly raised his
hand, surreptitiously waving at his younger self and his
counterpart’s doppelgangers.
Quick, furtive hand signs and signals went back and forth between the
two Zauriels.
Drawing the younger Martian and Kryptonian back away from the street,
Zauriel said, "This is why we can't fail. My counterpart told me
what we need to know. I know who we seek.”
“And those are?” J’onn questioned, glancing over his
shoulder.
"Reflections...time ghosts...wraiths...that’s why I warned you
against reaching out too far with your mind. This place is a
trap. Easy to fall into, but hard to escape,” Zauriel
explained. “The man we’re going to see fell into that
trap years ago. And found that he liked it.
“Who is it we’re going to see?” Superman asked.
“A crooked man who lives down a crooked street in a crooked
little house,” Zauriel continued. “And if the ether
of this place is to be believed, his real body lies dead in an ambush
by his fellow villains in a warehouse in Portsmouth City."
Superman and J’onn both glanced sidelong at Zauriel as they moved
through the streets. “We have to find Prometheus. Or
we may never escape this place."
Between worlds:
A globe of energy floated over the palm of a large blue skinned
humanoid. Krona watched the three Justice Leaguers move through
the streets of Necropolis. “The Angel, the Kryptonian, and
the Martian won’t be a factor. By the time they escape
their trap…if they escape, I will be more powerful than any
being has ever been. And universes will die and live at my
whim.”
Over his shoulder, Parallax blazing with green energy battled the
Spectre between worlds against a cosmic backdrop that looked like a
tattered curtain, a ripped hole between universes.
Earth-2:
And all about this parallel duplicate of Earth, it was the same…
In Midway City, two winged wonders vanished to be replaced with
tentacled monstrosities.
In Salem, a stone tower exploded in a devastating shower of rubble as a
gray streak shot towards the heavens.
In Gotham, a verdant glow that had been supporting a weakened bridge
simply faded. Dozens had fallen into the river Toth; cars
spiraling into the murky depths as a sickly white creature floated
higher ignoring the screams that followed him.
One by one, and then by the dozens the skies were filled with the
aliens soaring upwards. Like a flock of retched bird, a swarm of
albino bats littering the sky across the globe, the dozens became
scores, and then hundreds, spiraling skyward…
Answering the call…
Come!
To be
Continued...
NEXT
ISSUE: The heroes of
two worlds are stretched to their limits as the BIG CRUNCH looms ever
closer. The White Martians rage for vengeance. Solomon
Grundy reveals his true colors. Krona makes a decision. All
Hell breaks loose. And of course... someone dies. Be here
next time for not quite the conclusion...
Blackest
Night: Part 5! (Title Pending)
Hello
All,
We've
been getting a lot of 'Ooo's and Ahh's' over Mark and I taking over
JLA! Thanks for the support! Now here's a letter of review
from Steve Seinberg on JLA #52...
Hey,
Curt--
Thanks
for the advance look at JLA #52! I've actually been
looking forward to this new run from you and Mark quite a bit, so I'm
stoked to see it launching.
Some
random comments:
1)
This was pretty dark in tone, all things considered. Not
unexpected from you, compared with other pieces of yours that I've
read, but I haven't read as much of Mark's solo work, and had a memory
of it being a little sunnier in general. Not that dark is at all
a bad
thing, and maybe it works to the site's favor to have such a flagship
book being surprisingly hard-hitting rather than all bright and shiny
(which can happen with the League, I think -- the happy and shiny
thing, I mean).
2)
Excellent descriptions. I found it very easily to visualize
everything, which is huge in text-based fiction, and especially with
comics-based fanfic, since the source material is so visual in
nature.
I don't know if you guys shared the scripting duties or not, but it was
nice work all the way around!
3)
Great cast of characters in the issue. I know you inherited
some of the cast from Dino, and there's a definite Morrison-era
influence (Zauriel, Aztek, Oracle, Steel), but while I like those
characters, I was extra-tickled to see characters like Mr. Miracle,
Obsidian, Jade, and Manitou Raven get some screen-time, as they all
seem like great but unexpected choices here.
4)
Great use of action unfolding on multiple fronts. The
underworld stuff is cool, I love the effect of various extra-perceptive
characters twigging to the world-shaking events, and I'm probably most
intrigued by the battle between Infinity, Inc. and Protex for some
reason.
5)
One suggestion: since this is your first issue as the new
writing crew on the title, but it's a middle chapter in an ongoing
storyline, you might consider opening with a short "What Has Come
Before" text piece to bring any readers up to speed should they be just
stepping on board here for the first time. I've actually read
some of
your Earth-2 storyline (and have been meaning to send you comments on
your run on OUTSIDERS, actually, for quite some time!), but sadly
enough, I'd guess not everyone has been following along.
Okay,
gotta run, but just wanted to send in some praise and
encouragement. I think you guys are getting off to a great start,
and
I'm looking forward to more from the Fernlund/Anderson dynamic duo!
Steve
Thanks for the kind words and opinions, Steve. Let me see if I
can shed some light, however...
1) Dark, yes, but it is me tying up my loose ends and we are dealing
with Blackest Night after all. And you pegged Mark and I well.
Once this initial arc is done, expect more from our own 'Puff Doggy
Daddy' as he has some great ideas and the talent to back them up.
2) Yes and thanks. We are sharing the scripting AND plotting as close
to 50/50 as we can manage. I do tend to ramble in my descriptions, but
Mark runs a very close second with the details he adds.
3) The cast is in flux, and when the smoke clears the 'old order will
changeth', to a certain degree. Mark and I traded ideas on that
back and forth and came up with a good team we think, that will see the
light a few issues down the road. For now, expect Guest Stars
Galore!
4) The limbo stuff is all Mark and damn clever. That will reach a
head next issue, as will the Earth 2 stuff, which is mostly mine.
Hopefully you will be impressed with how it all comes together.
5) Got that from a couple people and can't blame them. The whole
story started back in my first issue of JLA and has been picking up
pieces like a runaway snowball ever since. Hopefully we have
recapped well.
Thanks again!
Curt F
EIC
JLU: 2001
Story
© Mark Anderson and Curt Fernlund 2009
