Booster Gold, wearing his gold and black body suit and trademark (no, really; they are trademarked) golden goggles, jumped off the pad and flew the fifteen feet into Ted Kord’s waiting arms. The two men hugged and wrestled each other, finally falling to the floor giggling.
“Hey, J’onny!” Booster called from the tangled heap on the observation deck. “Been a while! Miss me?”
“Those were not the words I was thinking of,” J’onn J’onzz said in a quiet voice, his mind in shock from seeing his worst nightmare given flesh.
“Beetle told me all about this check-up mission on Mount Baldy.” Booster said as he picked himself up. He walked over to the Martian, his hand outstretched. Out of courtesy, out of solidarity, out of shock, J’onn raised his hand in return. “Piece of cake.” Booster grinned as he reached past J’onzz, grabbed a small handful of Chocos, and returned to Kord’s side, popping one in his mouth along the way.
J’onn’s arm was still held out, his eyes two red pinpoints.
“I mean,” continued Booster, popping another Choco, “how hard could it be? I mean, we’re JLA! Hey!” he exclaimed, punching Kord in the arm. “We’re better than that! The Blue and the Gold are back!”
“Damn Skippy, bru-tha! Y’all better respect!” high-fived Kord, who was doing a little in-place shuffle.
Neither man had seen J’onzz slowly floating across the floor in their direction, his hands clenched into very tight, very large fists, red sparks shooting from the corners of his eyes, nor his clenched jaw and his massively furrowed brow, causing a deeper shade from its prominent overhang.
Neither man saw J’onzz turn invisible.
“And the best thing, Mah-Man, is that we get to hang in the city that never sleeps!”
“New York?” asked Kord.
Booster’s eyes squinted from behind the goggles. “I mean the other one. Metropolis!”
“Sweet!” exclaimed Kord, who began to do cartwheels and summersaults around the room.
“SHOTGUN!” called a voice from behind them.
A chair crashed to the floor, as if something collided with it.
Out from a corner rushed a man’s head with white goggles. His elongated neck followed, which was in turn followed by his shoulders, arms, upper torso and legs, which were pumping in a mad run, as if he was trying to keep up.
Both Gold and Kord stared in awe, looked at each other, then jumped up and down in place, gripping each other’s shoulders and screaming like little girls. Then they came to a complete stop, adjusted themselves with the utmost sincerity, then came to a skidding halt on their hands and knees at the flesh-colored boots that were reforming into actual appendages.
“WE’RE NOT WORTHY!!! WE’RE NOT WORTHY!!!”
J’onzz had rematerialized. His back was pressed against the wall and a look of complete terror had altered his features. He was whispering the word-
no...
|
NOT
The World's Greatest Superheroes.....
|
| JLI: The Return of BWA-HAH-HA! #2 - July, Year 1 | by Bertram Gibbs |
Martian Manhunter |
Blue Beetle |
Booster Gold |
Plastic Man |
Plastic Man stood there with a quizzical look on his face. He dropped his head and stretched his neck long enough for him to very closely look at the backs of Booster and Kord’s head. He pulled his head back to its original place.
“Okay, you got me. What’s this all about?”
“You are our God!” whispered Kord.
“You are the one we aspire to become,” whispered Booster.
“We wish to have your innate sense of humor,” whispered Kord.
“If we can become a tenth of the practical joker you are,” whispered Booster, “we are truly blessed.”
Plastic Man began to morph his arms into straight jackets, then changed his mind. “Waitaminute!” he said. “Stand up, the both of you. Let’s take a good look at you.”
While Booster floated to a standing position, Kord pushed off into a triple summersault, neatly landing on his toes.
“Show-off,” muttered Gold.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Plastic Man said, his arms folded across his chest, his neck stretching an impossible length to allow his head to circle around the two men three times. “Booster Gold. And you’re Ted...“
“’Kord’,” Ted prompted.
“I knew that.” Plas grinned. “You’re the Blue Beetle. I was reading the JLA archives the other day, and ...“
“Reading?” whispered J’onzz, who hadn’t moved from his position against the wall. He wasn’t directing that as a comment. He just absently repeated the word as if the concept was foreign.
Plas’ upper lip curled and he morphed the top of his head to match J’onzz’s overhanging brow, then back to normal.
“Ignore the rabble,” he said, turning his fingers into an elegant cigarette holder and cigarette, and stretching the skin around one eye to resemble a monocle. “Yeah, you guys are good! And you pulled one on the Bat!”
“We only did it once.” Booster whispered, his skin suddenly pale at the memory. He glanced over to Kord, whose skin had also turned pasty.
“Yeah,” waved Plas, “but the point is that you did it, and that makes you okay in my book.” He turned his lower anatomy into a chair and sat himself down. “So tell me more about Big Blue’s little surveillance job.”
Booster, Ted and J’onn began to speak at the same time: Booster and Kord rapidly giving the details; J’onn trying to interrupt with ‘excuse me’ and ‘may I…?’ and ‘but’.
SHUT! UP! J’onn mentally screamed, causing all three men to kiss tile. Plastic Man went to the usual extreme by forming a goggle-wearing red puddle.
“Now that I have your attention,” J’onzz began, popping a Choco in his mouth, “Booster Gold. I thank you for your interest, but your services will not be needed. I will be finding another member to assist us. Plastic Man. I thank you for your interest, but your services will not be needed. Go to your room.”
“Hey, J’onn…“ Plas began-
“Go to your room!” he repeated, but this time in a much darker tone.
“Now waitaminute, tall, green and bulgy.” Plas said, snaking, then reforming in front of the Martian Manhunter. “You may be one of the original members, but who died and left you Charlton Heston?” Plas quickly morphed into the actor in a bearded Moses costume, holding two red tablets, then back to normal.
“Your meaning?”
“I may be comedy relief to you, J’onn,” Plas said frowning, “but I have done a lot of detective work in my career. My life didn’t begin with the JLA, you know? And who would you rather have on a surveillance mission than someone who can blend with the scenery? Look, J’onn. I know I can be a pain in the patoot, but give me a chance? Okay?”
J’onn’s mouth opened, then shut. He looked over Plas’ head to see Booster and Ted, their faces torn in misery, hands clasped in front of them. Kord was even on his knees. Seeing a flash out doubt cross J’onzz’s eyes, both men went into a silent conniption fit, kicking their feet and mock pounding the floor. Kord suddenly shot to his knees and gave J’onn the old soulful eyes routine.
J’onn’s hand reached for a Choco, popped one in his mouth, then chewed slowly, thinking out this situation.
Teaming the three of them could lead to a major disaster.
Teaming the three of them could lead to a major coup. Kord to hack into the LexCorp system, Plastic Man for surveillance, Gold to watch their backs.
Teaming the three of them could lead to a major disaster.
But Plastic Man was JLA, and that stood for something.
“Okay.” J’onn said.
Booster and Kord began to jump up and down, screaming in little girl voices. Plastic Man extended an arm in their direction, his hand in the form of a stop sign. Both men shut off in mid-scream.
“You will be on your best behavior.” J’onn warned.
“You have my word.” Plas said, one hand raised.
J’onn reached for another Choco, his eyes glancing to the floor. In the highly polished tile, he could see Plastic Man’s foot curled up behind him in the form of a pretzel.
He sat down heavily in his chair and slowly placed another Choco in his mouth. Behind him, the three men exchanged practical joke stories, punctuated by hysterical laughter.
He refilled the tray two more times.
“Ya know?” Kord said, holding up his hand, “I haven’t seen Skeets? Where the heck is he?”
“Skeets?” asked Plas.
“Skeets.” Booster said. “That’s right! Where is he?”
On cue, the JLA teleporter began to hum. A brilliant glow and hovering over the pad was a gold, oval machine.
“About time you got here!” scolded Booster. “Where’ve you been?”
“I apologize for my tardiness, Your Goldness,” the Cyborg replied in an insincere tone, “but I was performing more constructive a task.”
“Like what?”
“Removing your toenail clippings from the breakfast table.” it replied.
J’onn glanced at the pitcher of milk, wondering if there was anything stronger in the pantry.
“Skeets?” Plas asked, his head turning into a question mark.
“My security Cyborg.” answered Booster. “Not that I need him for that. He’s actually more like my sidekick, of sorts.”
“’Sidekick’!” the Cyborg sneered. “That super-hero term of endearment. My diodes tingle at its utterance.”
“I’m going to my room.” J’onzz said flatly, walking past the three men and the floating machine. “The coordinates of the LexCorp Building is set in the teleporter. You leave at nine in the morning. Get some rest. Except for you, Plastic Man. You are on monitor duty. I am not to be disturbed. Goodnight.”
J’onn could hear their voices drop from boisterous caterwauling to a secretive silence. The silence brought back uneasy memories of years ago when Booster Gold and the Blue Beetle were members. Now Plastic Man was part of their brotherhood. J’onn chuckled deep in his throat. That was years ago, J’onzz, he chided himself. People have changed in less time. He knew that the Blue Beetle had hung up his mask and tights and was doing independent work; most recently with Oracle, their main source for information. Gold, on the other hand, still wore his trademark gold jumpsuit, but had come up against several problems, the hardest being his own ego. And he had come through in the Final Night event; the interstellar force that threatened to destroy the world by devouring the sun, among other near-catastrophes the JLA faced. Human beings changed for lesser reasons. He glided into his private room, shutting the door behind him.
A half-hour later, J’onzz was quietly meditating, his mind focused inward, his body hovering five feet above the floor. His torso had elongated, as did his arms and legs, which looked almost spider-like in comparison. The top of his head and his chin had come to points, and his face looked like a diamond pulled at both ends. His mind floated to the peaceful mountain ridges of Mars, only a short distance from where he and his family had lived.
His family… His wife… His daughter… How he missed them. How he-
The Watchtower alarm went off. As J’onn’s feet hit the floor, his body returned to its gigantic muscular form. He looked up and slid through three levels, finally coming up through the Observation Deck floor.
And found he had a pair of boxer shorts on his head.
His nose picked up a burning smell. He turned to see a half dozen charred microwave popcorn bags on the floor next to Wally West’s personal microwave, made to heat and cook things faster than normal units.
At the sound of a crash, he turned to see a broken light-beer bottle at the feet of Ted Kord, who was weaving from side to side, the bottoms from his Blue Beetle suit on his lower anatomy. He wore a grin on his face and raised his shoulders in an oops fashion.
Booster and Plas were busy watching a very endowed woman entering a shower on the JLA monitor. While Booster sat forward as far as he could go without toppling over, Plastic Man’s tongue lolled on the floor and his eyes pushed his goggles the length of its straps.
“No wonder they call her ‘Power Girl’!” Plas drooled.
“See, Plas old buddy, ” Booster said proudly pointing at the screen, “with a little help from Skeets there, we can patch into the security cameras of-“
WHAT IN THE RINGS OF SATURN ARE YOU DOING!
All three men fell to the ground grabbing their heads.
TO BED! NOW! THE THREE OF YOU! J’onzz’s eyes scanned the potato chip sprinkled console, checked the crumpled readouts, and the screen that was supposed to show any reported emergency around the world, which presently was blank.
“Uh,” came a voice from over his shoulder. “I think I may have touched something.”
J’onn turned slowly in the voice’s direction and stared at Booster, who grinned back sheepishly.
“You think you may have touched something?” he growled.
“That probably was the series of dials that I specifically suggested he should not touch.” Skeets said as he glided by.
J’onn’s hand reached out and grabbed Gold by his shirt and lifted him to his eye level. Booster not only sobered immediately, but also swallowed the gum he was chewing.
“Did I not say for you to go to bed?”
“Yes?” he said in a small voice.
“Why are you not there?”
“You’re holding me?” he asked, then shut his eyes quickly.
Booster felt his feet touch the floor, which was only when he opened his eyes. He looked himself over and was surprised to see his arms and legs still attached to his torso. He looked over and saw Plastic Man had changed himself into a standing coat rack (complete with several different coats hanging from the hooks). Ted was peering from behind a coat sleeve.
Booster quickly walked past them and to the lift, followed by Kord and Plas, who had beaten them there by stretching into the empty car. As soon as the door closed and they went down a floor, they heard J’onzz release an animal-like howl of rage.
“Well,” sighed Booster, “that went better than expected.”
“He’s mellowing with age, I think.” Kord mentioned.
“He’s been through a lot lately.” added Plas.
“At least, it wasn’t the Bat.” Booster said.
All three men glanced at each other.
“Amen to that.” said Plas.
“Ditto.” added Booster.
“Raht on, raht on, raht on.” added Kord.
Twenty minutes after J’onn had stopped screaming, he was going through a mental checklist.
Put them in a box on the far side of the moon? No, can’t do that. Take them to Kal’s Fortress and send them into the Phantom Zone? No. Can’t do that either. Enter their heads as they slept and give them the most frightening of nightmares they ever had?
J’onn smiled. Then shook his head.
No other alternative. No other way…
BATMAN
“Commissioner? The Governor, the Mayor, and the Attorney
General are safe. The Riddler and his goons are captured. Pick them up at the
Gotham Expo. They’re in the Puzzle Pavilion. Batman out.”
“Damn you, Batman!” the Riddler hissed, as the Caped Crusader tightened
the rope around his wrist. “There is no way you could have figured out
that last riddle! It is just impossible!”
The JLA emergency signal buzzed in the Dark Knight’s belt. He glanced over his shoulder at Nigma, who was still screaming curses. His fist shot out, catching him on the chin. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.
“Sorry.” Batman rasped. “Private call.” He touched a toggle on his belt. “Batman here.”
“Telepathic link.” J’onzz said.
Batman sighed. He hated J’onzz’s telepathic linking. It was not that he didn’t trust his loyal friend and teammate. It was just intrusive. That, and there were things in his mind that were not for anyone else to know. Things that would take too much time explaining. He cleared a section of his mind, allowing the Manhunter entry.
(Yes, J’onn.)
(Remember that situation I called you earlier on? There’s a problem.)
(Enough to use the JLA emergency signal?)
J’onn explained.
Batman’s jaw tightened.
(I’ll take care of it. When this is over, I would like you to tell me, in detail, how you could let things get so out of hand. Batman out.)
He touched a toggle on the Utility Belt.
“It’s me. Meet me in the Cave at Eight AM tomorrow. You’re on babysitting duty.”
MONDAY – 7:30 AM
J’onn J’onzz’s internal clock went off, waking him from his meditative rest. He lowered his feet to the floor and reformed himself from his actual Martian visage to the legendary crimefighter. He listened to the sounds of the Watchtower. After removing the electric hum from the many machines and computers that ran it, all he had left was three sets of snores.
He smiled and went to the pantry and poured himself a large bowlful of Choco Frosties, a cereal that was composed of mini Choco cookies. He poured milk over the cereal and a tall glass, then walked around the rest quarters of the Watchtower, stretching his legs.
He knocked politely on Plastic Man’s door and waited.
No answer, yet the snoring continued.
He rolled his eyes Heavenward and knocked again.
Still no answer.
He attributed the lack of response to the late hour Plas, Kord and Booster Gold must have had. Being a being that had the utmost respect of other’s privacy, he opened the door and announced himself.
“Plastic Man,” he called, trying not to frighten the man with his booming voice. “Time to…“
The bowl of Choco Frosties slipped from his hand.
He ran to the guest quarters and opened the doors to first Kord’s room, then Gold’s.
He turned on his heel and pushed upward, moving between the three floors that separated the group’s personal quarters from the observation deck of the Watchtower.
He took one look and began to bellow in a rage that would have given Doomsday pause…
At 8:20, the teleporter pad began to hum. A black clad body formed and Nightwing stepped off the pad, a leather bag slung over his shoulder.
J’onn J’onzz was still screaming.
Grayson looked around and was unsure what surprised him more: the fact that the normally calm and professional Manhunter from Mars was bellowing like a wounded (and very angry) T-Rex, or that the place was a holy mess.
Empty beer bottles littered the Ob-deck, along with empty and partially filled bags of chips and popcorn. Deflating multi-colored balloons hung from the end of the JLA conference table. The computer console, along with several sections of the deck, had strands of red, yellow and blue string hanging from it. Grayson picked up a strand and rubbed it between his fingers.
“’Dummy Rope’,” he muttered, remembering Tim Drake had once sprayed him with the aerosol party favor.
There were several small pieces of cloth push-pinned into a far wall. Grayson’s jaw, as he moved closer for inspection, dropped farther down his chest with every step.
Women’s panties.
Worse. They were labeled.
Black Canary. Power Girl. Huntress. Wonder Woman. Catwoman (that one had gold stars spotting the label). And others. A lot of others.
Grayson turned back to the screaming Martian.
“J’onn?” he whispered, which he didn’t mean to do.
Like a switch being flipped, J’onzz’s screaming suddenly stopped. He pulled himself to his full height and turned around slowly to face Nightwing.
The veins in his sizable forehead pulsed, like he was having the granddaddy of all migraines. Grayson’s body tensed, as if ready to do battle.
“I want to inform you,” J’onzz said in a dangerously calm voice, “That when this little surveillance mission is over with, I intend to kill the three of them.”
“J’onn,” began Grayson.
“No,” he said in a higher chirpy octave, waving his finger in Grayson’s face. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to have to kill them.”
Grayson wished he were fighting Blockbuster about now. “Uh, J’onn,” he said, retreating another step. “We’re the good guys. We don’t do that.”
J’onn’s red eyes glazed over and he snapped his finger. “Yes,” he said absently. “You’re right, of course. How about a teleporter accident? Something where their atoms are scattered across the universe? That happens all the time on ‘Star Trek’!” His eyes turned inward for a second. “I wonder if it would be painful?” he muttered to himself.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” Grayson offered. “Where are they?”
J’onn looked at Nightwing blankly. “Oh? Where are they? Poland,” he said.
Grayson blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Arizona. Turkey. New Jersey. They could be anywhere,” he said distantly.
“J’onn,” Nightwing began again.
“I checked the teleporter readouts,” J’onzz said in an eerily cheery voice. “I know and you know that they were supposed to be in Metropolis in about…“ he glanced at the time readout on the computer console. “About thirty minutes. But Kord was fiddling with the machine, so I really have no idea where they are at this minute.”
“Couldn’t you find them using your telepathy?” Grayson asked.
J’onzz’s eyes glazed over again and he frowned. “No,” he said in a troubled whisper. “Too invasive. Besides, I might accidentally wipe their brains clean.” A disturbed grin filled the lower half of his face.
Nightwing swallowed. His hand moved towards his wrist transmitter. A large green hand closed over his. He raised his eyes to see J’onn peering into his.
“Don’t call him,” he said in a flat voice. “He is already displeased with me. I’m sure you can find them yourself.”
“You’re not afraid of him, are you?” Grayson closed his eyes, preparing for a blow that would probably decapitate him, not knowing how that question managed to escape from his lips.
“No,” J’onn said shaking his head from left to right. “It is just I really dislike his I-told-you-so’s. Very much.” His head was still shaking from side to side.
“Are the coordinates set on the teleporter?” he asked, backing away from the larger man.
“Oh, yes,” J’onzz said over his shoulder, his eyes transfixed by the litter-filled room. “You should land on the roof of the Daily Planet. There’s a storeroom off to the left of the stairs where you can change into your civilian clothes.”
“I’ll contact you once I find them,” Grayson said, climbing on the teleporter pad.
“And, Richard?” J’onzz said, his fingers gently grazing the cards attached to the wall of panties.
“Yes, J’onn?”
“When you find them,” he turned, his eyes blazing, a merciless grin on his face, “bring them to me.”
Grayson swallowed and transported out of the Watchtower.
J’onn J’onzz sighed and resumed screaming.
“Isn’t it a little early to eat this?” Ted Kord asked, staring at the hot dog in his hand. Booster Gold and Plastic Man were on their second and third dog.
“New York habit,” Plas said around a mouthful. “Always start
your morning with a dirty water hot dog. Or a taco.”
“Ah, you’re just concerned about your weight,” said Booster
patting Kord’s well-toned stomach.
“Get away from there,” he replied, swatting away his friend’s hand. He took a large bite of the dog. “You have no idea what it’s like to have a weight problem,” he said. “I could do sit-ups from now until I collect Social Security and still all excess weight goes right to my gut.”
“Well, if you went back into crime fighting, you wouldn’t have that problem,” snorted Gold.
“Whadda ya mean?” asked Plas. “You don’t go after the bad guys anymore?”
“Naw,” Booster said pushing the final chunk of hot dog into his mouth. “He’s a computer consultant and troubleshooter. Doesn’t wear the costume anymore.”
“C’mon!” exclaimed Plas. “Where’s the kicks sitting in front of a computer terminal all day?”
“It pays well,” Kord replied. “Better than the spandex gig.”
Plas glanced over to the hot dog vendor who was staring at an attractive woman walking by. While the man was distracted, Plas morphed his hand into a mallet and bonked Kord in the head.
“Hey!”
“Get real, Teddy,” he said. “We don’t do this for the cash. We do it to stop crime and the kicks!”
“That’s right!” chimed in Gold. “Can I have another with double hot peppers and sauerkraut, please?” he said to the vendor.
“Make it two,” said Plas, handing the man a few singles. He looked at Ted Kord.
“You eatin’?” he asked and Kord nodded. “Three,” Plas amended. After they got their food, Plas pointed down the block. “Let’s walk.”
The three super-heroes walked down the street, munching on their ‘breakfast’. Ted was dressed in slacks and a collarless shirt. Booster was in a tailored suit, and Plas had reformed his body to display a red turtleneck, with matching pants and shoes. Ted and Gold were the only ones to carry small travel bags; Kord to hold his costume (which Booster talked him into carrying), Gold, to hold his costume and Skeets.
“In case you guys are of the uninformed variety,” Plas said with a grin, eyeing a shapely woman passing by, “I was a bad guy at one time.”
“Really?” Kord said while chewing.
“That’s the truth,” Plas replied. “But that was before I got my powers. ‘Eel’ O’Brien,” he said. “That’s my moniker. The cops called me ‘Eel’ because I was too slippery for them to catch. Banks, jewelry stores; those types of places. Never held up a civilian, or put one in danger, for that matter. I grew up poor and I know exactly what it’s like not having two pennies to rub together. Couldn’t bring myself to do something like that. My gang thought otherwise. Thought I was going soft because I wouldn’t rough up this jewelry storeowner who had the rocks locked up in a safe. Walked away with zip, because hurting the slob was against my principles. Not long after, the cops showed up when we were holding up a chemical factory. My guys set me up so they’d have the moolah, while I took the rap. Shot me in the back, too. I tried to chase after them and fell into a vat of experimental acid this place was making. Surprisingly enough, I lived and escaped. Woke up in this monastery and found I could stretch and make myself into anything I wanted. The monks there nursed me back to health and taught me how to control my powers. A simple act of kindness turned me around. If I wanted to make a lot of cash, I could’ve been a bad guy. But those monks showed me the light. I caught the rats, changed my face a little, and became the darling of the super-hero set. Teddy-boy,” he said, slapping Kord on the shoulder. “Get back into the spandex.”
“I’ll think about it,” Kord said, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin.
“What’s the plan, boss?” Booster said grinning at Plas, running his fingers through his jostled blonde hair.
“Let’s take a load off,” said Plas, pointing out the entrance to Schuster Park on the corner. The three men sat on a bench, Plas in the middle, Kord and Gold flanking him. “The dilly-o is this,” he said. “Mount Baldy is up to something. Something that involves S.T.A.R. Labs, and has a completion date of this Friday- four days from now. Our job is to find out what it is, and determine if this something will affect Big Blue in some way.”
He looked down. A squirrel had taken an interest in his foot. Plas morphed his foot into a cat’s snarling face, causing the animal to take off up a tree at 90 MPH.
“Hacking into the LexCorp computers won’t be easy,” Kord said.
“Yeah,” agreed Booster. “He has security protocols up the yang.”
“And I could probably access his system better from the inside, than from an outside terminal,” added Ted.
Plastic Man’s face became thoughtful. He frowned and looked up, seeing the LexCorp Building standing tall above the trees in Schuster Park. He began to grin.
“Something?” asked Booster.
Plas stood up. “Gentlemen,” he said, his body morphing into George C. Scott dressed as General Patton, with a chest full of ribbons and medals, and a riding crop.
“Our mission,” he continued with a slinty-eyed glare, “is to find out what Luthor is up to by any means necessary. But we need more details! Our first step is to drop by S.T.A.R. Labs and talk to Professor Hamilton and see what he knows. The next step is to infiltrate the LexCorp Building.”
“You do realize that only the Pentagon outdoes Lex on security?” mentioned Kord. “And not by much.”
“Teddy-boy,” Plas said returning to his costumed form. “Have a little faith in your Uncle Plas! What we need is a diversion. And since causing a diversion is our specialty…” he said holding out his arms to the two men.
“Tell! Tell!” cried Booster who was smiling from ear to ear.
“Boys,” Plas said returning to the bench. “Lexy has fought Supes. Lexy has fought Bats. Lexy has fought the combined forces of the JLA. But ol’ Mount Baldy has yet to fight us.”
Kord’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…?”
“Yes, Teddy boy!” cried Plas morphing his face into George C. Scott’s Patton and his body into a uniform. “We will infiltrate. We will investigate. We will find what we’re looking for and prove to all who can see, for once and for all, that we are not just on the team!”
“Amen, Brother,” nodded Kord, his eyes shut in rapture.
“That we are not here for comic relief!” His face changed into actor Joe Pesci’s. “We are not here to amuse you,” he said in Pesci’s nasally high-pitched New York whine. ”We are not here to make you laugh! We are Super-Heroes!”
“Preach it, P-Man!” cried Booster. “Preach it!”
“We are the JLA!” he screamed, his face turning into Burt Lancaster’s, and changed his body to resemble a wrinkled three-piece suit and formed the skin on the palm of his hand to resemble a large book with the letters JLA embossed on its front. He looked like Lancaster’s character, Elmer Gantry.
“Amen!” the two men cried.
A few people who were moving quickly on the walk path and happened to catch this impromptu revival meeting, quickened their pace.
“Supes has his powers!” Plas Gantry cried.
“Say it, Brother!” exclaimed Booster.
“Wonder Babe has her lasso!”
“Testify!” cried Kord.
“The Flash has his speed!”
“Say it again!” said Kord, who was bouncing on his toes, his flat palms raised to the Heavens.
“Aquaman has his… his…“
“He talks to fish?” suggested Gold.
“He talks to fish!” exclaimed Plas. “But you, Booster Gold, and you Teddy Kord! With your abilities combined with mine, we can defeat the evil that is plaguing our existence, because you know what we have?”
“TELL US!” screamed the two heroes.
Plas lowered his voice to a whisper-
“We have the power of annoyance! And I will lead you to… glory!” he said in the actor’s halting delivery. “Your images will be rectified! You will be justified! You will be bona fide!”
Plas returned to his natural form and stared at the two men, who gazed back with their mouths open.
“Genius,” whispered Kord in awe.
“Absolute genius,” said Gold in the same tone.
Both men looked at each other and dove to the ground and began to Salaam at Plas’ feet. “WE’RE NOT WORTHY!” they cried. “WE’RE NOT WORTHY!”
“Yeah,” said Plas with a satisfied smile on his face. “I know.”
“Excuse me,” said a muffled voice from inside Booster’s bag. “I really hate to interrupt this meeting of the mindless, but will I be released from this satchel sometime today?”
