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:
The CSA Satellite, Avalon;
22,300 Miles above Gotham,
Later…
“I am SO
outta here!”
Deborah Camille Darnell stared at the snide boy that stood before them,
her lips twisted in a sneer of disbelief as she listened to his whining
tale. She glanced at Zard, but he seemed unconcerned as the
youth rattled on about monstrous aliens that had killed his henchmen
and a strange booming voice that had rattled his psyche. The
Wizard just sat there in his command chair stroking the gem that topped
his walking stick, his eyes sparkling and vacant as though his mind
were a million miles away.
Camille had no love for Cameron Mahkent, the son of the original Icicle
as far as she knew. He was a conceited boy far too full of
himself for his own good, like most of the newer generation of the
Injustice Society. Both he and the younger Ragdoll thought
far too much of themselves and their abilities, and she wondered why
William even put up with them. But of course the answer to
that was the ‘Dream’.
It was all about the Dream; converting this other dimensional Earth
into a utopia that only Zard seemed to recall. A place where
the heroes were not dark and gritty, where the villains did not die or
rot in jail but kept returning time and again. A world he
dreamed of and desired a return to…a simpler world, a
happier world, a once upon a time world, a world he claimed was
real…or had been real…according to him.
The way he spoke of that world made it seem so real and vaguely
familiar to Camille, like a word on the tip of the tongue, a memory
that she could not quite grasp, or a midnight dream that on awakening
you can’t quite catch the gossamer threads of.
“We can surpass this,” Zard said, his voice cold
and emotionless. “A minor set back at
best. I have the power to subvert the Martians
again. All will be as it was.”
Camille looked at William Zard, the Wizard. His eyes were
white and pupiless, his face stone-like and impassive as he stroked the
jewel atop his cane. There was a slight flaring of red at his
gentle caress. The flare of red deepened and swelled marking
the outline of his hand upon it.
The imagery gave Camille a small shudder of disgust. A
shudder she studiously hid from her compatriots.
“You weren’t there, old man,” Cameron
Mahkent said pacing before the ‘throne’.
Breath steamed from the Icicle as he gesticulated wildly.
“You didn’t see that monster.”
The Ragdoll stood stoically in reserve, looking worried and keeping his
mouth shut. He was more than willing to let Icicle do the
talking.
“That freak-ass alien killed my boys and I would’ve
been next ‘cept I was too quick on the Panic
Button. I ain’t facing those things. No
how. No way. Me and Ragdoll are back to the
‘Real World’ like yesterday.”
I can keep them here, Zard.
Camille heard the ‘voice’ of the Thinker vibrating
through her chair. He was the last of Zard’s old
guard that remained after Degaton, Sorrow, Shade and the others had
left. Except for the senile Fiddler of course.
Truthfully, she could not imagine that the Thinker could leave if he
wanted to, integrated as he was into the circuitry of the
Satellite. For all intents and purposes he was Avalon.
“No,” she heard William say, and the jewel under
his thumb flared, rhythmically pulsing. “If they
wish to go, I will not-“
BRATBRATBRATBRAT…
The Star Sapphire floated forward. She took steps, but her
feet didn’t quite touch the ground. Pinkish energy
roiled about her issuing from the stone in her tiara forming an
encompassing shield. “The Proximity
Alarm,” she stated, her gaze shifting to the wide view screen
that dominated the far wall as it flickered between views. A
pink energy hand reached out and closed a connection on a nearby
console, focusing the shifting emergency view Earthward. She
swallowed hard as she saw a swarm of… gray-hued bodies
hurtling skyward towards the satellite.
“William?”
She saw Zard glance casually at the screen. His eyes widened
ever so slightly, but other than that he showed no reaction.
“Adios, Amigos!”
Spinning back, Camille watched as Icicle and Ragdoll Juniors stepped
into the teleporter and swiftly vanished in a flicker of
transdimensional light. She glanced back at the screen and
licked her lips, fighting the urge to streak after them in a blaze of
pink energy and wondering if maybe they were right.
“William?” she said.
Zard stared glassily at the viewscreen, watching, what she assumed,
were his former puppets, the White Martians, encroaching upon the
satellite.
“Implement defenses, Thinker,” he commanded,
settling into his throne as defensive screens, force cannons, and
particle beams turned on throughout the satellite. More than
a half century of the best super villain weaponry made up the weapons
complement of Avalon…and now it would face its ultimate test.
“Camille, my sweet…Head to Docking Bay
3. I do believe the aliens have breached the hull.”
Deborah Camille Darnell, the Star Sapphire stared at William Zard, then
glanced at the view port and the growing mass of aliens gathering
beyond the walls of the space station, Avalon. She had to
believe that Zard knew what he was doing. She had to have
faith.
“Yes, William,” she said an almost undetectable
quaver in her voice and hurried off down the hall even as the satellite
shivered underfoot…
ROLL CALL: JLA
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| MARTIAN
MANHUNTER |
SUPERMAN |
THE
BATMAN |
ZAURIEL |
MISTER
MIRACLE
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MANITOU
RAVEN |
ORACLE |
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| STEEL |
AZTEK |
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ROLL CALL:
GUEST STARS
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| PROTEX |
METRON
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SOLOMON
GRUNDY
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POWER
RING V
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BEAST BOY
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SPECTRE |
WIZARD |
Earth-2:
Gotham City;
The Owl Cave,
“There,” Grundy said, his fingers flying over the keyboard
of the computer with a strange fluidity despite their size. His
dull gray eyes seemed to sparkle, reflecting as his gaze flicked over
the monitor screen and the information scrolling past in Codex.
“As I expected, someone’s used the inter-dimensional
teleporter, high-tailing it back to Earth-1 and throwing caution to the
wind in the process. They’ve left the coordinates wide open
as the barn door after the fire.” Solomon Grundy
highlighted a line in the scrolling computer text and tapped a series
of buttons and Todd Rice heard the teleporter hum to life.
“Whoever it was went to Keystone City, but they’ve given us
access to Avalon.”
Obsidian watched the monitor at the computer station where Owl Girl
sat, her fingers flying as deftly over that keyboard as Grundy’s
did his own. On screen he watched as the White Martians swarmed
over the space station, some pummeling with a strength to rival
J’onn J’onzz, others using what they called their inherent
Presser Vision. They wanted revenge against the Wizard and his
Injustice Society as much as Grundy and his cobbled together Secret
Society of Super-Villains; though Todd favored the name Infinity Inc.
for old time’s sake.
“Damn, they’re really rippin’ into the
satellite,” Owl Girl said as she enhanced the image focusing on a
section of the station where the hull had been sheered away.
“Yeah, but the station’s defenses are up,” the young
Power Ring noted, pointing to the screen as he hovered behind the girl,
leaning over her shoulder. A definite attraction there, Todd
thought to himself peering at the pinkish glow roiling out through the
rent. “What is that?”
“That would be Zard’s concubine I suspect,” Grundy
offered as he lumbered to the teleporter platform. He paused
briefly inputting a sequence of coordinates.
“Star Sapphire,” Todd suggested as Power Ring looked to him
with confusion. “From my Earth.” The boy
shrugged and returned his attention to the monitor, though his eyes
continued to steal glances at the girl seated before him. Johnny
Gardner was probably an okay kid considering he came from Earth
2. He had been chosen to wear the ‘power ring’
though, and take up the mantle of that world’s version of Green
Lantern. That meant that he had an evil streak in him, just like
most of the people in this twisted mirror universe.
Todd Rice, son of the original Green Lantern, Alan Scott had breached
the dimensions months ago by accident. Experimenting with his
shadow powers, his ‘shade’ form had been swept up by the
real Shade as the old man had crossed over using some dark dimension
that touched the twin Earths as a go between. And of course, his
luck being what it was, bad basically, Todd had become trapped.
Not long after the Justice Society of America had appeared, and
Obsidian had thought he was saved.
He had gone to Gotham and found his father, or so he had thought.
That Green Lantern had definitely NOT been Alan Scott however and had
promptly taken him as a villain and kicked his ass. Confused and
beaten, Obsidian had turned tail and run; straight into the arms of the
erudite Earth 2 Solomon Grundy and his underground movement.
Grundy had explained how the Wizard had arrived with his Injustice
Society and a band of disguised villains called the Outsiders.
The groups had beaten the Crime Syndicate of America, Earth 2’s
version of the Justice League, and sent them packing. Zard had
then betrayed his Outsiders as they were not a part of his grand
dream. As far as Grundy knew, most of the Outsiders had gone back
to Earth 1 with the exception of Star Sapphire and Rocker, the latter
who was now part of Grundy’s Society. Or at least he had
been until ‘Superman’ had shattered his stony body. A
pity too, as Rice had learned, that the stone golem had been infused
with the spirit of Changeling, Garfield Logan of his own world.
Oddly Todd had thought him dead, though death did seem a tenuous
prospect for metas, apparently on either Earth.
Grundy had also explained that the Wizard, now the ruling power on
planet had somehow at least suppressed whatever it was in this
dimension that gave everyone an evil tint, again to further his
goal. The populace was still easily agitated, but the crime rate
had plummeted. He had also cleaned up the world, reducing the
smog levels, the general global pollution and the air of depression
that seemed to hang over everything. Obsidian marveled at that,
as the Wizard that he recalled was little more than an illusionist with
maybe a few props to enhance some minor magical abilities.
Obsidian had supplied what he knew of the Wizard and his gang, and
Grundy had concluded that magic was the key to all that he had
accomplished. *
It was also going to be the key to taking him down…
* Obsidian’s reminiscence
is a rather condensed telling of the events that happened in JLA 39-41
and Outsiders 10-21 - Curt
“You with us, Rice?”
Todd blinked out of his reveries and turned to see Owl Girl and Power
Ring standing on the transport pad. Power Ring had gathered the
shattered remains of Rocker into a glowing green sphere and that
hovered beside him as well. Grundy was standing at the
transporter control panel, looking nothing at all like Scotty.
Todd stepped up onto the pad with the others as Grundy indicated.
“The transporter won’t take all of us at once,
unfortunately, so I’ll send you all ahead, then
follow.” Grundy half-smirked as he eyed the control panel,
his chalky face illuminated with an eerie yellow glow.
“You’ll probably pop out in the main Meeting Room;
Zard’s Throne Room, so be prepared ta step out
swingin’.” All three nodded that they understood
though Todd wondered why Grundy’s accent kept shifting from upper
crust to Brooklyn thug. Didn’t matter he supposed.
Todd watched as Grundy flipped the final switches and started to pull
the power rod that would start the process. Immediately the
golden glow of energy enveloped the three and a shocking tingling
sensation crept slowly up his body. The Owl Cave in response
slowly started to fade away…
“Good luck, kids.” Grundy said, his voice a hollow whisper
to the fading trio. “Live long an’ prosper.”
Earth-1:
The Arctic:
The Fortress of
Solitiude
As they approached by air, Steel’s armor broadcast a specific
signal that Superman had given him to use in case he ever needed to
enter the Fortress without a Kryptonian accompanying him.
He’d never used it before…and hoped it worked. While
he was sure that the Fortress’s defenses would be non-lethal,
that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t give you motion
sickness or toss you into a subspace holding area or some other
surprise. Beneath his faceplate, John Henry Irons smiled as he
thought, “At least we’re not trying to get into the
Batcave.”
“My helmet says that we’re being scanned,” Aztek said
flying between Steel and Metron.
“Yes,” Metron responded, “we have been for the last
500 miles.”
Aztek regarded the New God sitting in his flying Mobius Chair.
His mouth set in a grim line as his eyes swept the readouts and meters
set along the arms of his chair. “Watch where you are
flying, youngling.”
“What?” Aztek asked as a gaggle of geese heading south flew
flew passed him. “AHH!” Moments later, he regained
his composure. Pulling his uniform shirt back down in the Picard
maneuver, he got back into formation with the other two. Glancing
at Steel, he couldn’t tell because of the armor’s
faceplate, but he’d bet that he was smiling at him.
“So, this Phantom Zone Projector…” he started.
“…combined with your helmet’s 4-Dimensional power
source…” Steel continued.
Metron regarded the other two as they looked at him.
John Henry Irons shook his head slightly as he finished,
“…should allow us to track this disturbance back to Krona,
Parallax, and whoever else is involved.”
“Oh…piece of cake,” Aztek added sotto voce as they
approached the Fortress.
Earth-2:
Avalon;
20,863 Miles above
Metropolis and counting…
Camille could feel the shift in gravity. The station was state of
the art, even though not so clean or well-maintained from the days of
the Crime Syndicate, but the inertia dampers, the air supply and
artificial gravity had all been kept in good condition, and even
enhanced thanks to the Thinker. But with the savage assault of
the Martians, she knew that the satellite was starting to fail.
It was shaking so violently that she could not even run and had been
flying from blast door to blast door, trying to impede the invaders as
much as she could.
She could feel the station moving though. She was sure of it, and
that was not supposed to happen.
Star Sapphire paused, slamming another Panic Button and watching as the
huge blast doors ground closed. The lights flickered as she tried
the intercom again, but it was still filled with static. The
Thinker was hard pressed trying to keep the station afloat she
supposed, not to fix the communications.
THOOM!
THA-THOOMMM!!
She gasped as she heard the telltale sign of the encroaching Martians;
the almost immediate hammering on the thick, metal door that she had
just closed. Fear and adrenaline rushed through her body, making
her shiver and sweat. The aliens were catching up to her, and
cursing to herself, she knew why.
Zard had sent her out as a target, the bastard. They had breached
the hull, and he had sent her out as a distraction to draw their
attention and fire, the son of a bitch. Then Camille
groaned. Had he escaped already and left her behind?
The lights went out and Camille heard the distinctive sound of
machinery winding down. Instinctively she increased the force of
her personal shield, the darkness receding a bit as her glow increased,
casting the hallway in a dancing magenta hue. Still the hammering
continued, as she knew that the dark was no impediment to the Martians.
THOOM!
THOOMTHATHOOMBOOM!!
“Oh god,” she whispered, her voice thick with a sob that
she would not let escape. She had to keep her wits about her if
she hoped to have any chance of surviving. “Damn you,
William,” she hissed as she gracefully sped down the corridor,
then finally out into the open area of the wide maintenance ramp that
spiraled up the cavity of the satellite’s interior. Here
the booming echo of the Martian assault reverberated unmercifully, the
chamber acting like a sponge and drawing in the sound, multiplying it
Star Sapphire shot through an opening into the final hall, the door to
the Throne Room at the far end. She cast a bolt of energy at the
Panic Button, but nothing happened. The blast door behind her did
not close and she suddenly fretted that she would not be able to get
into the Command Center. She saw lights however on the door panel
and licked her lips as she swiftly typed in the security over
ride. She sighed with relief as the doors hissed open and slipped
inside…
Something smashed against her shields with enough force to slam her out
of her flight, out of the air and onto the charred floor. Camille
hit hard, splaying on the tiles and rolling. Her head was
spinning and hurt as she shook it and blinked trying to clear it.
Got to get up, she thought as she struggled to rise.
Something slammed down onto her back, shoving her to the floor again
with enough force to force the air from her lungs. The world
faded from view for a moment as she gasped and lost concentration, and
focus. She could feel the weight on her back, crushing and
painful, and that oddly helped her stay conscious. When her
breath finally returned she immediately gasped as the sight she saw was
blurry from her tears and no longer tinged with a pinkish glow.
The Command Center was crawling with White Martians; eight of
them. They were just as Icicle had described with long, spiked
tails, huge and a sickly, dull white. They were in the process of
ravaging what had once been Zard’s Throne Room; smashing
machinery, ripping up the floors and walls, demolishing Zard’s
gaudy furniture, basically venting their rage. And of the Wizard,
there was no sign.
“No…” she whispered, realizing the worst even as she
felt the weight on her back shift and something rough and huge clamp
about her neck. Her cry was clipped short as she was hoisted into
the air and left dangling in the grip of a massive, strong hand.
She clung to the arm for support, even as it easily supported her and
she saw that it too was white, sleeved in a tattered black. The
grip eased enough that she could turn her head and see her captor,
though she already knew who it must be.
“Hello, Darlin’,” Solomon Grundy said with a throaty
chuckle. Her gaze shifted and she saw that he was holding her
tiara, which held her Star Sapphire. “Meet the Hyper
Clan,” Grundy said as he strengthened his grip again.
“We thought you’d never get here.”
Deborah Camille Darnell kicked and struggled uselessly as an evil glint
sparkled in the swamp monster’s eyes. She could not
breathe, and slowly flecks of gray invaded her vision, swirling like a
darkening blizzard…
CRACK!
The man who was once Ted Sallis opened his hand and let the body of the
woman drop to the floor. She hit with a wet thud, her head cocked
at an odd angle, her lifeless eyes staring up at him accusingly.
Like he cared. He stepped over the flesh bag and up to his new
erstwhile partner, Protex, cleared his throat and waited for the
alien’s berserk little tantrum to run its course.
“Where is Zard?” the Martian leader hissed, whipping about
to face Grundy. “You promised him!”
“Not here,” Grundy said with a shrug. “I
don’t sense him onboard. Probably ran like the bitch he
is.” Solomon Grundy reached out with the power of the Gray again as he had done as soon
as he had teleported himself to Avalon after getting rid of the
others. He had sensed the woman on the fringe of the station
immediately, her terror and desperation making her essence glow like a
torch to his sight beyond sight. He had broadcasted her location
to Protex, who in turn relayed to his clan and together they had herded
her back to the Command Center where he had then waylaid her and stolen
her gem.
Even as he thought of it he felt a tingling in his hand that held
it. Grundy looked as the Star Sapphire faded from sight and
apparently out of mind as well. It was the counterpart to the
Green Lantern’s ring, so he supposed it was off in search of a
new host. Pity, he thought. It would have made a good
weapon if things went south with the Martians.
“You will find Zard, creature!” Protex snarled, spittle
flying in Grundy’s face.
“You will back up, alien,” Grundy replied, retrieving a
handkerchief from his breast pocket and calmly wiping his face.
“And calm the fuck down. Zard may be out of reach, for the
moment, but we have the station. Yer boys destroyed the
computers, so the Thinker is either dead or gone, so you can get yer
other revenge goin’,” he said, glancing out the view port.
Earth 2 was looming closer, almost filling the window, and beyond the
fragmented body of the moon. Sallis remembered years ago when
Ultraman had sliced a chunk out of Luna and sent it bit by bit
screaming into the atmosphere to crash into several major cities to
teach the populace a lesson. Little did he know that the chunk of
lunar meteorite that crashed into Slaughter Swamp would devastate
Sallis’ secret hideout and lab, killing the ‘mad
scientist’ in a fiery death that ended in the toxic waters of the
swamp outside Gotham. Months later, on a Monday coincidentally,
the new swamp monster emerged, linked to the Gray and burning with a desire for
his own vengeance.
“Yesss…” the Martian hissed again and Grundy felt
the blast of psychic energy as the alien called out to his clan.
The hammering ceased on the hull but was quickly replaced with a
grating whine of stressed and straining metal. Grundy saw flits
of gray speed by the view port as the remainder of the aliens in space
all shifted to one side of the station and started to push.
Grundy felt the slow lurch in the wavering artificial gravity of the
battered Command Center. Outside the Earth shifted out of view
and he peered curiously at an oddly flickering star that he did not
recognize out beyond the moon. It seemed to surge, its light
flaring and then waning in intensity.
And that light was green…
The Rift Between
Worlds…
“Try again.”
S’m S’mth looked up pleadingly at Ultraman even as he felt
the damnable lasso tighten even more about his throat. Super
Woman slammed her knee into his back, pressing harder as she tightened
her grip, her Golden Lasso of Domination keeping the Martian on his
knees.
“I’ve tried,” the Martian Mankiller said trying not
to whine but failing miserably. “I’ve tried, but they
won’t respond.” S’mth quivered as
Ultraman’s eyes crackled with red energy. He knew that if
the Kryptonian Terror unleashed his Ultra Heat Vision he would die a
fiery and traumatic death.
“Better not Kent,” Owlman said watching the torture but
doing nothing else to interfere. Ever since Wayne had appeared in
their magical, spherical prison he had done little but watch the battle
that raged beyond. S’mth knew the hatred between the two
rivals, and of the love triangle that Ultraman could never acknowledge,
but at least Kent was thinking of freedom, even if his latest scheme
was little more than torturous for the Crime Syndicate’s resident
telepath.
“You telling me what to do, Wayne?” Ultraman spat, turning
his fiery gaze at Owlman. Wayne did not seem concerned.
“Just suggesting. Right now the Martian’s our best
bet to getting out of here and past that.” Wayne flicked a
thumb back over his shoulder indicating the scene beyond the prison
that the Wizard had placed them in, and of course everyone looked.
John Stuart, the ringless Power Ring was fairly certain that one of the
two huge figures was the other Earth’s Green Lantern. He
looked older; his hair fringed with silver, and though now seemingly
armor, his costume still resembled the uniform of the Green Lantern
Corp. As to the other; a ghostly looking thing with chalk white
skin and green clothing such as it was, they had had no idea.
Owlman had informed them after his arrival that it was called the
Spectre, and was apparently some sort of spirit, at least according to
files he had perused on the Batman’s computer. What he had
been doing on the Bat’s Earth, Wayne did not provide.
The CSA had no idea why the two were there, or why they were
fighting. They did notice however glimpses of both Earths as the
battle raged, as though their fight, apparently on some cosmic scale,
was widening the rift between the two dimensions. It had been at
that realization point that Ultraman had ordered S’mth to contact
the pair, one then the other, offering their aid if they would only set
the CSA free. A plan that everyone seemed to back, including
Super Woman who immediately collared the White Martian to make him
comply.
And S’mth had to admit, despite the humiliation that the plan was
sound. Power Ring was useless to them without his ring, which had
apparently found another host and greener pastures so to speak.
Both of the CSA’s most physically powerful members, Ultraman and
Super Woman, stood stymied by the magical aspects of the Wizard’s
prison. And Owlman, though probably smarter than all of them put
together, simply had no real power to help. And poor Johnny Quick
had burned himself out when his drug supply fizzled after many attempts
to vibrate through the globe. He was lying senseless on the floor
next to S’mth, Super Woman’s stiletto heeled boot planted
on his skull.
The Martian Mankiller could not believe the power that was being
exchanged beyond their prison globe. His Martian sight went well
beyond that of the others. He had seen things, monstrous things,
slithering passed them here in limbo and thanked anci ent
Reemnor’h that their prison was as hardy as it was. Between
the limbo creatures and the rampant energy flashing back and forth
between the Spectre and Parallax, he wondered if the display would be
enough to drive any of them all mad. He took careful note of all
about him, keeping the sensations close, so that he could replicate
them in a test subjects’ mind…when the opportunity came.
Gravity was running wild about the pair, swirling in a massively vast
tempest about the giants. Eldritch flame crackled between
them. Sheets of blue planar lightning crackled around the two of
them, sheeting from a mote connecting this place between dimensions to
another mote connecting to another dimension. The energies roared in
this interstitial zone, a fiery inferno that seemed to swell about the
spectral figure while sharp and clinical verdant energy rippled from
the Green Lantern.
S’mth noticed too, on yet another level of clarity, a malignant
yellow tinge that seemed laced into the green like a cancer. He
had no idea what that might be, but it seemed to both hamper and
enhance the Green Lantern’s light.
Who are you?
“Yah!”
Everyone turned as Stuart staggered back with a yelp of surprise,
stumbling over Johnny Quick’s sprawled body and joining him on
the floor with a graceless pratfall. S’mth assumed that all
had heard the voice in their own heads even as he had as all eyes
turned to face the armored and blue-skinned man standing beyond their
globular prison.
He was large, perhaps ten feet tall and seemingly massive though that
could have been an illusion of his golden hued armor. Jet black
hair and a grim visage, his skin a deep azure and piercing black eyes
that seemed to hold the secrets of the universe in their depths.
An alien, obviously, but S’m S’mth could not help but feel
of a race that was naggingly familiar.
“I’m Ultraman,” Kent said stepping to the fore.
He did not introduce the others as he puffed up before their strange
visitor. The blue-skinned alien looked him up and down with
barely an interest, then looked to Power Ring who was just getting back
to his feet. S’mth heard Stuart’s gulp under the
scrutiny.
You have the
residual tint of the Flame about you, the alien said to Stuart, yet it
seems corrupted. I have encountered like before, variations of
the Flame. Are you unique?
John Stuart stared dumbly at the alien as Ultraman stepped up in front
again, banging his fist on the globe. “Hey!
Hey! I’m in charge here. Talk to me. You part
of that?” Kent asked, pointing to the battle.
Kryptonian.
But again, corrupted. And a Martian also. The blue-skinned alien glanced at
the far rent in the fabric of space and the edge of his lips twisted up
in a flicker of a smile. Ah… A reflective
dimension then. I understand. And one free of altered
beings with delusions of grandeur and ideals of heroism. Perfect.
“Uh-oh…” S’mth whispered, his telepathy
catching a spark of the alien’s thoughts beyond the overt
telepathy. “We need to get out of here,” he said,
tugging at the rope constricting his throat. Lane jabbed her knee
into his back to keep him in place.
“No shit,” she said, but S’mth pressed on.
“He wants to destroy a universe,” he continued.
“He wants to destroy it and recreate it, just to see what
happens. Our universe! He’s crazy!”
“Krona…” Stuart said as though that explained it all.
“What do you mean?” Owlman asked, stepping beside
Stuart. “Who’s Krona?”
“Him,” Stuart said, his voice cracking with fear.
“He’s Oan, from their dimension. The ring told me all
about him once. He tried to see what happened at the Creation and
got sucked out of reality for his efforts and driven mad.
He’s been trying to find the truth for… forever.
We’re fucked.”
“Please,” Ultraman said. “Another fucking alien
wanting to play God.”
“Shut up, Kent,” Owlman said stepping past the
Kryptonian. “Lois, get your rope off of S’mth and
onto Quick. Get him on his feet. And everybody shut the
fuck up.” Wayne tapped on the globe to get the
alien’s attention, the Oan’s gaze peering into the tear
that led to Earth 2.
“Listen, Wayne,” Ultraman said grabbing Owlman’s
arm. Owlman pulled something from his utility belt and jammed it
into Kent’s arm. S’mth heard the Kryptonian cry out
and collapse to the floor of the globe next to Quick who was just
waking at Super Woman’s demands. S’mth saw a thin
sliver of golden rock sticking out of Kent’s arm.
“Manufactured Gold Kryptonite,” Wayne said.
“Little gift I pilfered from Batman before I faded back
here. Takes away Superman’s powers, so I hoped it might do
the same to Kent. Took him out, so I’m not
complaining. Now everyone shut
up. Krona!”
Owlman continued to rap on the globe, but the otherwordly Oan ignored
him, lost in his own thoughts. Free of the damnable lasso,
S’mth sent a psychic spike, which got the alien’s
attention. Krona turned.
“Free us and we’ll help you,” Wayne said.
“We owned that world, that Earth. Set us free and
we’ll give it to you.”
S’mth heard the collective gasp of his teammates but no one said
anything. Krona eyed the assemblage curiously, a slight smirk
curling his lips.
I don’t need
you, he said, peering at the CSA. However, you can aid
me. Your counterparts will become aware all too soon.
Distract them.
S’m S’mth, the Martian Mankiller started to speak but felt
Reality wrench away and suddenly he was plummeting through the
void. He imagined the others were no better off as he tumbled
through Time and space, but he did not care.
He was free…
Limbo:
"He's in there," J'onn said as the three limbo lost members of the
Justice League stood staring at the crooked house on a crooked lane in
the limbo city of Necropolis. "I can sense him."
"The man has been here so long that he has become intertwined with the
energies of this place. Even if he disappears from here, I bet he
would simply reappear at some later time...whether he physically
returned or not," Zauriel commented.
Superman glanced up and down the street. The Faceless were
milling about, going about endlessly reliving their daily lives from
the living world. He held a shudder down, looking at a fate that
all his superpowers couldn't beat...and he worried about Bruce's future.
The curtain in one of the street facing windows of the house’s
façade twitched to one side briefly.
"He knows we're here," Superman said racing toward the house.
The three JLAers hit the front door, smashing their way inside...only
to find an empty building. A high pitched wind began to pick up
outside, keening through the eaves of the crooked house.
"I don't sense him anymore," J'onn raised a hand to his temple and held
his other hand palm outward before him slowly turning to encompass the
entire house.
"He was here in this room, just a few moments ago," Zauriel added.
Superman swept the room with all his super senses. He stared at a
spot near the window. The window whose curtain they had seen move
from the street. "There's something...electromagnetically wrong
with that spot. There's an energy signature that doesn't appear
anywhere else in the room,” he swept his penetrating gaze around
the room, “or in the house.” He allowed his energy
perception to expand. "The edges of the distortion are roughly
man-shaped.” Kal nodded slowly.
Zauriel reached his hand out, sweeping it back and forth through the
spot. "I can feel our home universe. This is how he
escaped."
"And that's our way home," J'onn added, linking their minds and showing
them how they could use equipment in the Watchtower to duplicate the
energy signature that they were all now perceiving. "Prometheus
has shown us the way home."
An exchange of smiles, and the three made their way to the door,
stepping out of Prometheus's crooked little house...only to find the
crooked little lane that ran in front of it clogged with a moaning,
keening mob of zombie-like creatures. The Faceless of Necropolis
had awakened to another type of life…unlife. As the
Leaguers stepped out, the creatures moved forward like a wave.
"We may not be able to fly in this place, but I learned to leap a long
time before I could fly," Superman said. Grabbing his two friends
about their shoulders, he leaped in the direction of the Watchtower.
A 1/2-mile away, they came back to Earth, in the midst of a crowd of
the Faceless Zombies of Necropolis. The dead of the city reached
out, clutching at them. One of them caught hold of Zauriel's
wing, just as Superman jumped again. The zombie was pulled along
with them up into the gray, slate sky. At the top of their arc,
the creature lost its grip and fell back to the city below. The
only noise it made was its continued keening as it fell to the ground
with a loud, basso thump.
They landed beyond the fringes of the city. The zombie horde
rolled out of the city and rushed toward them. That horrible
keening wail rolled after them.
"I can't leap again. This place saps my strength the more I use
it," Superman said, staggering.
Catching him by the shoulder, Zauriel said, "This is what I warned
about. This is how we end up as gray faceless beings sitting on a
sidewalk forever in this place."
Carrying him and moving along as fast as they could, they made their
way to the rock outcropping that the Watchtower stood upon.
Looking up at the cliff, "I can't leap either," J'onn said. "I've
been trying ever since he jumped us out of there and I just don't have
the strength."
"We're almost there," Zauriel encouraged seeing the crushing ennui and
vitality sapping entropy reflected in the faces of his Kryptonian and
Martian teammates. "We climb it."
Up the rock face, they went with the zombies of the Necropolis on their
heels.
They reached the top and looked back. The plain between the city
and their rock was solid with the packed bodies of the denizens of this
corner of Limbo. All of them were shambling after them intent on
keeping them there.
"They're going to catch up to us before we can duplicate the energy
signature," J'onn said.
The sound of machinery deploying came from above. They turned to
see the turret atop one of the Watchtower's parapets open, turn, and
point its energy cannon over the outcropping’s edge.
FA-DOOM! FA-DOOM!
FA-DOOM! The blasts tore chunks out of the horde below,
cutting a swath across the base of the rocks where the Watchtower sat.
With an effort, the three JLAers made it inside.
"Be on your guards," Zauriel said as they approached the control room.
J'onn smiled as he caught an errant thought from their
benefactor. "No... It's a friend."
They entered the control room to find a pasty-faced man in a high
collared, red suit with a large D emblem emblazoned on his chest.
"Hello, Boston," J'onn greeted with a smile. Well, as much of a
smile as J'onn ever wore…unless Chocos were involved.
"It's good to see you."
"Just glad I was close by and sensed you were in trouble," the ghostly,
circus gymnast revenant said as he touched off another charge from the
cannon to drive back the zombies. "The energy charge for these
cannons isn't going to last very long. I'm assuming the run for the
hills means you've found a way to get yourselves out of Limbo."
Earth-1:
The Bat Cave;
Gotham City…
Obsidian felt his stomach churn as he swayed on the transport
platform. He was immediately assaulted by the cold, and his eyes
blurred as they tried to adjust to the sudden dim. He felt
vulnerable and hollow, shivering.
“Don’t move.”
Todd Rice stood solidly at the sound of the voice, waiting for his body
to catch up to his mind and senses. He recognized the cold timbre
of the voice, lacking emotion and filled with threat. He
focused…
He saw the Batman standing before him, before the platform, tiny and
sharp bat-shaped shuriken in hand and ready to fly. Beside the
Dark Knight stood a second shadowy presence, this other appeared Native
American. An though Todd couldn’t see well yet, he had the
impression that he was dressed in leathers and hides with his face
painted…medicine paint. Todd had no idea who that was, but
raised his hands to fend off the attack. “Wait,” he
choked out, his voice cold and chopped. The Batman paused, but
the shuriken he held hovered menacingly.
“I did not foresee this,” the other said and Todd saw the
Batman’s slight glance at the Indian. He noticed one of the
New Gods standing behind the duo. His foggy mind and memory
grasped at the information that he knew he had. He had seen this
man…god…whatever before. Barda’s
husband…Mister…Mister…Mister Miracle.
“Where are we?” Obsidian heard Owlgirl say.
Turning quickly, he was surprised to see the others still with
him. Owlgirl stood next to Power Ring and… Beast Boy!
Garfield Logan stood naked and confused as his head shot from side to
side taking in the world about him. His skin was a pale lime
green and his hair was long and wild but he was once again whole.
“Batman?” Logan said, right before he collapsed to
the cave floor in a dazed stupor. Batman blinked then focused on
Rice.
“Obsidian,” the Batman said, not lowering his guard an
inch. “You have some explaining to do.”
“...and we ended up here instead of the CSA satellite,”
Todd Rice said, his voice low and monotone, and sounding just a little
confused Garfield Logan thought. Not that his own voice would
sound any different, if he chose to speak that is. Confused was
an understatement.
The last thing that he really remembered, at least with any clarity,
was freezing in his apartment at the Titans Tower. He recalled
being sick, and his powers almost out of control and running rampant,
altering him into stranger and stranger creatures that seemed to have
minds of their own. He had seen a doctor at Star Labs for help,
but of course there were tests and waiting and all the while he had
been getting worse. That’s when the memories became
fragmented…
He remembered the Titans and a desperate battle, but oddly he seemed to
be the target of their attack rather than part of the team. He
shivered, remembering a shocking pain that raced throughout his
body. Then…
It was odd and misty when his eyes had painfully opened again. He
recalled light, but he could not make out any details about him for the
longest time other than a thick, undulating fog. How long he had
wandered there he had no idea, and he seemed to recall voices and
shadowy shapes always on the edge of sight and sound. Nothing
that he could focus on, until…
Pain again. He felt as though his soul, the very fabric of his
being was being ripped apart. Two voices again, basso and booming
but speaking strangely and in some odd language that he could not
understand. He felt cold again, and oddly trapped. He could
not move as though he had been buried alive in cement. Soon
though that feeling ended and slowly he found the ability again, though
he seemed to be able to feel nothing. It was as though his
senses- except for his sight and hearing- had shut down. And the
voices took form then; two men who seemed vaguely familiar. One
was tall and wearing a top hat and tuxedo of all things, the other a
lab coat.
They spoke above him and about him as though he were simply an
object. He remembered words; Golem for one, and Rocker…
He recalled being a hero again, but different. He was with a
group called the Outsiders. He was literally the ‘Brick’ of
the team, big, strong and indestructible. There were fleeting
glimpses cascading through the hollows of his memory, battles and
stardom for the most part. But there was more…
The JSA was there, and the Injustice Society as well…
And another Earth, dark and foul; a smudged mirror image’s
reflection with criminals in place of the JLA…
He recalled betrayal, running and hunted by the Justice Society- but
not…
Then came Grundy and another group of Outsiders, and eventually
Superman and…
And he was here. *
* Beast Boy’s reminiscence
is also a rather condensed telling of the events that happened in JLA
39-41 and Outsiders 10-21 - Curt
Garfield Logan looked about in something resembling awe. He saw
the giant penny, the dinosaur and the tattered remains of the
well-known red and green costume lit up in a display case. He was
definitely in the Batcave, though just how that had come about he had
no idea. He recognized the other members of Infinity Inc, the
group of Outsiders from that other Earth; Obsidian, Owlgirl and Power
Ring. He did not see Grundy, however-
“Logan.”
“Yahh!”
Gar Logan jumped at the cold, whispered voice that seemed to boom in
his ear. Spinning about he came face to face with The Batman, the
dark knight staring at him intently, and almost curiously.
Logan’s heart was hammering in his chest as he sputtered,
swallowing and trying to speak.
“You look like Garfield Logan,” The Batman said, ignoring
his feeble attempts to find his own voice. “But since Logan
is dead, I have to assume that you are the Earth 2
counterpart.” The Batman turned and strode back towards the
others, his teammates now huddled near the Native American that seemed
to be doing something with his hands and a small pile of bones atop a
scrap of animal skin. It was then that The Batman’s words
sunk in.
“D-Dead…” he croaked, his voice cracking like a
teenager’s. The Batman glanced back as he took a position
around the table with the others.
“Our own Beast Boy died in a battle against his teammates, the
Titans. He was in the grip of a disease that was altering his
Meta and corrupting his powers. He attacked the Titans, and was
killed by Nightwing, unknowingly… and regrettably.”
“That…” Logan started, his mind a swirl as his
memories crashed together caught in the grips of a maelstrom.
“That was me. I was… AM Garfield Logan. I’m
Beast Boy!”
“Improbable,” The Batman said, but his ally disagreed.
“He speaks the truth,” the Native American said gathering
the thin and crusty bones from the table, holding them out in his
palm. Logan watched the man shake them as he approached, then
toss them again as he stared at the naked, green Titan.
“They all do,” he continued, “and all linked to the
Magi and his machinations. The shadow creature through his
connection to the Society of Justice, the two youths indigenous of the
other Earth, and this one,” he gestured at Logan, “a lost
soul stolen from beyond because of his truly heroic heart. How he
has returned in body I don’t know, but it is indeed the spirit of
your Beast Boy.”
“Grundy said he was a Golem,” Owlgirl chimed in and Logan
felt a flush of embarrassment as he saw where her gaze was
focused. He lowered his hands over his genitals and gave a slight
smirk that she returned.
“That makes sense,” the Shaman said, figuring that this
Grundy was some sort of magician himself. “The Magi
probably probed for a hero in the nether regions of Limbo and found
this one.”
“Rocker,” The Batman said assuredly and Logan saw his three
teammates nod in agreement. The Batman frowned however, more so
than usual. “I don’t like this. Parallax, Queen
and now Logan all seemingly back from the dead. Just what is Zard
playing at?”
“We’ve all seen strange things during our time in the
business,” Mr. Miracle added.
“The Magi is just a piece of the larger picture, Batman,”
the Shaman said, gathering up his bones and slipping them into a small
leather pouch at his belt. He started to roll up the animal skin
as he continued. “There are many things happening that are
battering at the dimensional barriers and have been for months.
Ever since the Dark Lord recrafted this Reality in his own image.”
Scott Free felt cold goose flesh run down his spine from his neck to
the small of his back.
“Dark Lord?” Obsidian asked, the black of his facemask
blank and not betraying the confusion evident in his voice.
“Darkseid,” Batman offered, staring at the New God who had
invited himself to this gathering. The Shaman nodded.
“Though there are many things, many instances that fall into the
complete picture like pieces of a vast puzzle. The battle against
the Quarrm that led to confrontation with Destiny at the End of
Time. Your resultant journey through bordering dimensions.
The ordeal against Nabu, Fate’s helm twisted and tarnished with
age.” The Shaman motioned at Garfield. “Your
proteges at war with Trigon. The recent trials of the
Amazons. The Atlantean king’s struggles against the Elder
Gods. And more, but all eating away at the thin, gossamer veils
that bind Reality. And now Parallax and Krona…” The
Shaman frowned and shook his head. “I feel there is little
we can do at this point.”
Logan glanced at his teammates and saw the confusion on all of their
faces mirroring his own. Except for the bit about Trigon, he had
no idea what the man was talking about. The Batman however seemed
to understand, his face stony and stoic.
“We need to get Superman, J’onzz and Zauriel back, not to
mention the Watchtower. We need to confront Krona before he
achieves his mad goals. We need help.” Logan watched
as The Batman touched something on his utility belt.
“I’m calling the others back. Oracle?
You’ve heard?”
Not Everything, a computer
generated voice echoed thoughout the cave, but enough. Things are getting out
of hand, Batman. The world disasters are happening fast and
furious. Too many to cover them all.
“Keep coordinating. I’ll open access to the Embassy
teleporters.” Batman paused and looked at Logan with a
knowledgeable look. “Use them as needed. Stay in
communication.” The Batman looked at Logan, scrutinizing
him it seemed.
“Your old pattern and DNA were logged in the JLA
teleporters’ memory from years ago. I won’t begin to
understand how, but it somehow must have recreated your body from
that.”
“Divine intervention,” the Shaman said. “The
ways of the Gods are mysterious, but obviously this one is
needed.”
“Whatever,” The Batman agreed with obvious
reluctance. “Obsidian. You and these two,” he
said nodding towards Power Ring and Owlgirl, “just got
drafted. Manitou Raven, find Superman and the others.”
Logan watched as the Native American seemed to go into a trance, his
body stiffening and his eyes rolling up in his head. Batman
directed Power Ring and Obsidian to try to focus on Parallax, their
powers obviously linked to Hal Jordan and the Emerald Energy of
OA. He gave Owlgirl instructions to find certain information on
the computer, then finally turned to face him again.
“Get dressed, Logan,” The Batman said without missing a
beat. “You’re involved in all this somehow, and I
doubt you want to save the world in your all together.”
Garfield Logan blinked. Was that a joke? Batman
doesn’t make jokes. He gave a quick salute, however, and
dashed off in the direction that the Dark Knight indicated.
Whatever hell his life had been the last few months, he was back.
He had another chance and he would be damned if he would throw it
away…
To be
Continued...
NEXT
ISSUE: Ooookay...
Things look very bad for our heroes! The Big Crunch looms and the
team is scattered to Hell and back, literally. With Krona licking
his chops at Earth 2 and the White Martians looking for some vengeance,
how could things get worse? Enter the CSA! People die next
issue. I promise.
Curt
Blackest
Night: Part 6! Dark of the Moon
Story
© Mark Anderson and Curt Fernlund 2010
