"People always told me I had a big head. I was egotistical. I was stuck up. But you know what? They were just jealous. Because I was smarter. I knew why things were the way they were. From growing up, I came to the realization that the world worked for those who understood it. And if there's one thing I know…it's how the world works."

He walked up to the woman, who stood before him motionless. Pure terror was etched across her face, the only part of her anatomy her captor allowed her to move. She was suspended several inches in the air, her arms held out to her sides.

"One bit of knowledge that moves the world along is that the strong survive. The weak die and make way for more of the strong. In my own way, I am the strongest of all, so everyone else must make room for my strength. You will be the first of many, my dear."

He stood in front of her face, his eyes glowing with a purplish energy. Smiling, his eyes flashed brilliantly, and she slumped to the ground, her eyes staring lifelessly upwards, purple energy leaking from her tear ducts.

Satisfied with his work, he went outside of the woman's home and levitated into the evening sky. Looking down, the small town before him seemed like a cluster of stars in an otherwise dark expanse. They were as unto ants before him, insects that he could stomp out on a whim, much like he had the woman.

He concentrated, closing his eyes as he did so. The same purplish energy emanated outwards in waves from his body. He outstretched his hands, and began to laugh. The energy coruscated over the town at the speed of thought. Instantly, every human, animal and insect dropped where they were, their eyes staring at nothing in particular. The entire town was silent. Nothing stirred.

Nothing except the laughter of the man responsible for the atrocity. Laughter…and two words.

"I win."

	J'onn J'onzz..... "Dangerous Minds" MINDKILLER, PART 1 OF 4
Martian Manhunter #1 - January, Year One	Written by Mike Hintze Edited by Will Short

Dedicated to John Ostrander and Tom Mandrake

The town of Kipling, Province of Saskatchewan, Canada

"This is one screwed up situation."

Constable Mark Hayes of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Major Crimes Division stared at the several hundred hospital beds before him. The town hall had been converted to a makeshift hospital to deal with this crisis ever since the scope of what happened had been understood. He wore a radiation suit that kept him hermetically sealed from his surroundings, the hiss of the air-exchange seals echoing in his ears.

All contact with the town had been lost the previous day. Tourists passing through were the first to notice the townspeople lying lifeless on the ground. Word quickly passed to the Canadian authorities about the situation in Kipling and after the situation was assessed by the Mounties, the Canadian Centre for Disease Control was dispatched. For everyone in a town to fall lifeless with not a mark on them suggested a pathogen of some kind. The Mounties were fearing the worst: that this was the first major biological warfare attack on the Western Hemisphere. Constable Mark Hayes was the lead-investigating officer for the RCMP, and so far he was as clueless as when he began the investigation. The only consolation was that the Disease Control Task Force was also as in the dark as he and his team were.

Hayes approached Myron Wallace, the lead Disease Control investigator. "Dr. Wallace, anything more? Any general idea as to what we're dealing with yet?"

Wallace turned from examining one of his patients. "Nothing, Constable. All symptoms point to some kind of pathogen, yet any blood work is coming back negative. We've conducted several field autopsies and still come up with nothing. It's as if they just…turned off."

"Well," replied Hayes, "I'm going to need more than that for my superiors. The media's waiting outside the perimeter and I have nothing to offer them to allay their fears of a biological attack or a toxic spill…"

"Perhaps," came a voice from behind the men, "However I have some information to shed on the matter." The men turned to see a stranger wearing a trenchcoat and a dark suit…and no protective gear.

"How the hell did you get past the perimeter?", demanded Hayes. His sidearm was out in a flash.

"You've just exposed yourself to a potential contaminant, sir," explained Wallace with a look of professional seriousness. "You're going to have to undergo quarantine immediately."

"No one is going to undergo quarantine, gentlemen," replied the man. "The cause of this town's distress is nothing your technology can detect. The blame must fall on more…esoteric means."

"Just who the hell are you?!", demanded Hayes. His sidearm never wavered from its aim at the stranger before him.

"My name is John Jones. I…investigate…strange occurrences and phenomena. I can assure you, you will be quite safe." The two men didn't make a move to doff their protective suits, looking at Jones as if he were insane.

"In that case…I'm afraid I'll have to insist." Immediately, the two men reached up and opened the seals of their helmets, then pulled them off. Their faces showed utter shock at their actions.

"How…how did…" Both men were stunned at what they had just done.

"A simple suggestion," said Jones. "I needed to make my point and haven't time to waste in convincing you. Now lie down on the street…and sleep."

The two men knelt down to the ground, and were sound asleep as soon as their heads touched the ground. Hayes began snoring immediately.

Now, thought Jones, It's time for a closer inspection. Jones' brow furrowed in concentration as he performed a mental scan of the area. Odd, he thought, The mental energies collected here have been fundamentally altered…

Jones approached the converted town hall/triage unit. As he did, his form changed into that of a large, muscled green skinned humanoid with a pronounced brow wearing a dark blue cloak with a red straplike harness across his chest. Jones was reverting to his true form and identity, that of J'onn J'onzz, Manhunter from Mars.

As J'onzz came to the doorway to the hall, his image shimmered momentarily, then faded out altogether. Now invisible and intangible, J'onzz walked through the doorway towards the main area where Kipling's residents were being administered to by Canadian Disease Control specialists. From his first scan of the populace before him, he could see everyone from children to parents to grandparents arrayed on stretchers and cots. Many seniors had broken bones when their minds had been…erased was the best term J'onzz could come up with. Most of the town had survived, their basic life functions still performing well. Others; most notably newborn infants, children with neurological disorders and seniors with mental frailties; had died within minutes of whatever had attacked them. It was those victims that J'onzz felt sorrow for. On Mars, all were telepaths, and all held its proper use in the strictest moral thinking. To use those gifts for malice was to break the most sacred laws of nature. J'onzz had been surprised to learn of the large population of latent telepaths on Earth, and knowing humanity's capacity for destruction, feared what they might someday become. In the years since his being stranded on Earth, and subsequent affiliation with the Justice League of America, he had encountered some of the most truly evil beings in existence, the worst of which used telepathy towards their own ends…or the ends of others. Brainiac, Despero, Hector Hammond, the Mind King…the list went on. But never before had any of those beings done something, in J'onn's eyes, this horrifying. To rob these sentient beings of their free will and leave them as mindless husks…the mere thought of this angered him.

J'onzz knelt by the cot of a young girl. He guessed her age to be approximately ten years old. Her eyes were closed and she breathed the slow breath of sleep. He rested his invisible hand on her brow, giving it enough density to make physical contact…and entered her mind.

J'onzz was immediately overcome by the desolation of entering a formless void. Her mind was non existent. Her brain a mere slab of tissues and nerves that would never spark sentient thought in her again. He had never seen such damage to a being's mindscape before…such complete negation of all he had known was capable of a human mind. The little girl was a mindless shell, a husk. Everything that made her human…had been obliterated.

J'onn began to feel his own mind begin to draw itself to the empty void within the little girl. Like a black hole attracts and traps light, this emptiness began to draw any and all other minds into itself that it might make contact with. Such a frail little girl, and her empty mind was now capable of drawing J'onzz's mind into herself, obliterating his own mind forever.

NO!, exclaimed J'onzz as he pulled out of the girl's mindscape. The next instant, he found himself back in the town hall. He had almost lost control of his stealth abilities; in fact his image had flickered momentarily before he had caught himself from revealing his presence. As it was, two orderlies had caught a glimpse of…something…by the girl but both chalked it up to overworking…at least they did after J'onn had mentally suggested they should.

Shaken, J'onzz flew up through the roof and into the sky. From this vantage point he saw the entire town of Kipling…and he also saw something else.

His enhanced Martian Vision detected an almost invisible and dissipated heat trail. His body was naturally attuned to all forms of energy, a fact not even his comrades in the JLA were aware of. Where Superman would have been hard pressed to detect this trail so long after it was created, the Martian Manhunter was able to change his brain patterns and visual acuity to an impressive degree of clarity. J'onn was capable of interpreting a vast array of energies, many of which human science had to yet to discover.

What made this heat trail so interesting was that it was comprised in part by tachyons…particles that Martian science had shown were fundamental to understanding the nature of time travel. Had this event occurred in conjunction with the arrival…or departure…of someone or thing to or from another time era?

J'onzz could deduce that the event in Kipling had been intentional. Mindstorms had been prevalent on Mars when mentally unstable Martians lost control of their abilities and had to be contained by the Manhunters, of which J'onn was a member. Very rarely did Mindstorms occur naturally…yet in any event, their effect was not near as localized as what had happened here. The village of Windthorst was a mere 5 miles away, and no one there had been hit by the telepathic effect that had befallen Kipling.

Yes, thought J'onzz grimly, this was definitely intentional. But is the tachyon trail connected to the erasure of the minds of Kipling? It would seem to be so…and I despise coincidences.

J'onzz had been aboard the JLA Watchtower when the news reports of Kipling had broadcast to the Monitor Womb. The night before, he had been shaken from his meditations by a telepathic scream…which was gone as fast as it had appeared, undetectable. When he had seen the news reports the next day…his detective instincts kicked into overdrive.

What he had seen now was the tip of the iceberg. But it was enough…enough for him to have already gleaned his first clue as to the assailant's identity…

The Justice League Watchtower, One Hour Later

"I did a check myself as soon as I heard. Every major telepathic threat we have on file has been accounted for."

Batman turned from the large computer banks in the JLA Monitor Womb to face the Martian Manhunter. J'onn J'onzz stood staring out of a large viewport at the vast expanse of outer space, the gray color of the moon a bright contrast to the darkness of the void.

"J'onn?", asked Batman. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," replied J'onzz. "I'm telepathic, Bruce. I find it near impossible not to hear when someone is talking to me."

"Then you concur with me that whoever is behind the Kipling event is either someone new, or someone using artificial means of telepathic attack?", said Batman.

"I concur that we have covered all of the major threats that we are aware of…but the residual telepathic energy felt…familiar. I can't quite place it, but I know I've come across that particular energy signature before," replied J'onn.

"If there's one thing I've learned in my life, J'onn, its to trust your instincts," said Batman. He got up from his seat and approached the Martian, his dark cloak billowing as he moved. "There's something else, though, isn't there? Something beyond bringing this character to justice."

J'onn turned to face Batman. "On Mars, telepathic abuse was one of the cardinal sins one could do. It angers me that others have such a blessed and sacred talent and abuse it with atrocities like Kipling. I swore long ago when I joined the Manhunter Order that I would stop all such heinous acts. I have let my duty fall to the wayside since my coming to Earth. I have ignored the sacred trust put upon me by my people."

"There's more, isn't there?", asked Batman.

"Yes," replied J'onn. "Today marks fifty years since I was first stranded on Earth."

Batman stood silently for a moment. "J'onn, if anyone can find who is responsible for this, its you. Remember that you have the League backing you on this. I can call the rest in to brief them…"

"No," replied J'onn. "I'll handle this. If I require aid, the League will be the first to know."

J'onn began walking towards the Watchtower teleporters. "Whoever committed this atrocity will soon find out why I'm called a Manhunter."

Elsewhere

He couldn't help but laugh.

He had finally become all he had ever wanted…he could have anything he desired, make anyone do what he wished and now be physically able to appreciate it. For all intents and purposes, he had become his own mind's eye of perfection.

However, he still owed a debt for his current state. It was a price he had been willing to accept, and now there was no way he would ever give up the freedom he now had. He was a God…and he owed one man for it all.

"I don't know how you saved me," he said, "But I'm not about to let my new state of affairs change. Name your debt, and let's be done with it."

The benefactor exhaled cigar smoke into the lavishly furnished room. "Your debt to me will be considered paid when I decide, not a second before."

The telepathic killer flared purple energy in his eyes, an insinuated threat. "My patience wears paper thin with you. You may be long lived…but all things die. Even you." Purple energy flared outward from his head, collecting into a bolt of psionic energy that lanced itself at the benefactor's head.

The benefactor continued to smoke his cigar.

"What??", exasperated the mindkiller, "How?! Your mind should be dripping from your nose like melted butter!"

"I'm just full of surprises, aren't I?" The benefactor stood up from his chair and grabbed the mindkiller by the lapel of his overcoat. "Listen closely, you brain swelled wretch. You were a cripple before I came to you. I could just as easily reverse that." He dropped the mindkiller onto the floor.

The killer babbled, "No one could resist that powerful of a mind blast! Not even the Martian Manhunter!"

"Funny you should mention him," said the benefactor. "Because he is going to be your next target. Him…and the Justice League of America."