Manhattan
Earth
2…
Something was wrong.
Or, more accurately, something was not quite right.
Not just the fact that he should be dead (and was, as far as he
knew). Not the apparent truth that he WAS alive (sort of),
and trapped in a lumbering body of stone, nor the confusion that he was
running with a group of criminals in disguise.
No, what seemed to be bothering Garfield Logan the most was the group
of colorfully clad figures that was descending from on high to kick
collective ass. He recognized them of course, and doubted
that there was anyone living (or not) in the Free World that would not
know at least some of them. They were, after all, the ones
that had started the whole masked hero fad. They were the
Justice Society of America…
Or so they seemed. Logan was not quite so sure.
This coming from a green kid whose last memories were so twisted and
warped that all he could recall was transforming into some bestial
monstrosity and craving blood, wanting to kill everything in
sight. He had to wonder at his own sanity before throwing
stones, or himself in this case. But looking at them,
descending, gaining position and spreading to fight, he was noticing
things that conflicted with his own questionable memories…
Their uniforms were different for one thing. Superman had a
skinny little belt and his ‘S’ emblem was way too
pansy for Big Blue. Batman was bulky, like a wrestler from
the WWF, and he was wearing a gun for Christ’s
sake. Sentinel had his ring back, and worse, there was the
Atom and Hourman. They were dead, killed by Hank Hall when he
was Monarch.
But then, Logan was supposed to be dead himself. Who was HE
to question?
But who the hell was the woman in the red long johns with a pot on her
head?
“Penny for ‘em, block head.”
Logan looked up, focusing as someone tapped on his rock body hard
enough for him to feel it. He saw Hourman standing before
him, grinning with a cocky attitude that would piss off Ghandi.
“You really ought’a pay attention to the fight,
Stone Man,” Rex ‘Tick-tock’ Tyler said as
he smirked, his arm drawing back, “otherwise you’re
liable to get your clock cleaned.”
The blow struck him squarely in the face. Logan felt stone
chips flying away as he stumbled backwards, his massive arms flailing
and windmilling to keep his balance. Finally though he fell
to earth with a massive ‘THOOM’ that shook the
street and turned a few heads his way. He felt no pain
luckily, but he knew that he was hurt as he focused, watching as
Hourman dashed forward to continue his assault. Logan raised
his arms to block…
Eobard Thrawne smiled as the world slowed at his whim. He saw
the JSA slow as well, to varying degrees; Hourman moving at a
snail’s pace, attacking the Golem, the Kryptonian moving
slightly faster, easing towards Wind, and Garrick…
It had been different playing the android at the Wizard’s
whim. He was glad that the Bastisch had shown his true colors
and turned them out. Now he need not hold back, playing the
fool for the lesser savages of this age. Now he could excel,
speeding on to greater glories, moving things as he liked, towards
Allen and revenge.
And there was Garrick, flowing with the Speed Force and moving his
way. It would be so appropriate, killing Allen’s
mentor and friend. All bets were off now, and once the
original Flash was dead, he would go find West, and Quick, and anyone
else that Barry Allen favored. He would slay Iris –
regrettably of course – but she had to die, and Don and Dawn,
and most especially Bart, the little boil on the bottom of his foot
that he was.
“Hello, son,” Garrick said, coming to rest right
before him – the fool. “I understand you
fancy yourself to be fast?”
He knew. All the better. The pretense was no longer
needed then.
“I am Zoom.”
Jay Garrick smirked, tipping his Mercury helm back at a rakish angle, a
chuckle escaping his lips. “A right nice
name. Plenty of pizzazz, but I have to tell you, when it
comes to fast, well,
Zoom
just doesn’t cut it.”
Garrick disappeared. Thrawne felt a tap on his shoulder and
spun. Garrick was there, impossibly. Thrawne was
the faster, the Reverse Flash. He was the shattered image of
Allen, second to none. How?
“Tag.”
There was a pain in his chest as Garrick thrust a finger into
Thrawne’s body, and just as swiftly withdrew.
Eobard Thrawne staggered, gasping for air as Jay Garrick winked and
disappeared again, too fast for the average eye to follow.
Too fast even for Thrawne. Impossible…
Professor Zoom ran, ripping away the disguise, putting Pitch-black into
the past. Garrick would know that the Reverse Flash had slain
him. It was only fitting.
If only he could catch his breath…
Camille stared as Alan Scott floated towards her.
He had singled her out somehow, Green Lantern to Star Sapphire as it
should be, she supposed. Destiny and all that. Not
that she was complaining.
Zard had abandoned them, his own lofty goals and ideals apparently not
including his ‘Outsiders’.
Fine. William would regret his decision, as soon as his
‘rag-tag’ team defeated this shadow version of the
JSA. The Outsiders would rally. Only Rocker was of
the ‘Hero’ mind set. And Harper; the poor
brainwashed fool. The others would all take affront at
Zard’s perfidy.
Bastard…
“You should surrender,” Scott said, the green
sparkling about his hand. “It’ll go
easier on you if you do.”
Camille stared at the old man’s hand. The green
flame was within Sentinel, as she recalled. Why the ring?
A green fist appeared and enveloped her, huge and squeezing her tightly.
“I’ve fought my fair share of witches. I
know you need your hands to gesticulate.”
The fist adjusted, a massive green finger moving up to encompass her
mouth.
“And you need to incant. Give it up.
You’re out of your depth.”
The Star Sapphire fumed, annoyed that she had been captured so
easily. Not that she could not escape of course, but Scott
had confused and surprised her. Not a nice thing to do.
She let the disguise fall away. The Star Sapphire exploded in
a blast of velveteen light, making the giant green hand loosen its
grip. She floated upwards, free and radiant, her power
coursing through her slim body, the blues of the façade that
she had worn these weeks finally stripped away to reveal the rightful
heir to the Zamaron Throne.
“Impressive,” Scott said as he brought a green
shield up before him, between them. “I think I
liked you better as a blonde though.”
Something slammed into the back of her head, rattling her
senses. And even as she spun about, she felt a blow to her
midsection. Something lashed at her legs, dull and
wide. She turned and a green boxing glove struck her full in
the face.
Blood spewed from Camille’s nose as something
shattered. She floated back, but Scott pressed his advantage.
“You have potential, sweetie,” he said with a grin,
“and gams to die for, but against me you should have stayed
in the kitchen.”
A glowing green baseball bat slammed across her face and the world went
reeling…
“Burn…”
Ice Storm dropped to one knee as Superman’s eyes flared red
and cast him in the radiance of his Heat Vision.
The Kryptonian was untouchable, hovering above him as he was, his cape
whipping about in heroic glory. Ice Storm screamed, trying to
focus.
A fist slammed into his face. Ice Storm fell to the ground,
his jaw aching. He looked up and saw the Atom dancing about,
waiting to strike again. He could see the little
man’s face contorted into a wide smile even beneath the
full-face mask that he wore.
“C’mon, boy,” the diminutive hero said,
flexing muscles and cracking his knuckles. “Gimme
somethin’.”
Blizzard tried to rise, gathering the cold about him. He
gestured and ice enveloped the Atom, freezing him solid in a heartbeat.
“Burn…” the Man of Steel said again, his
Heat Vision washing over the former member of Dark Nemesis.
Blizzard dropped again, trying to stay conscious as a fist slammed into
his cheek. He heard the Atom laugh again.
“Icicle you’re not,” the Atom said,
pounding again. Blizzard saw the empty chunk of ice in the
background and wondered just how the Atom had freed himself.
It seemed impossible. The Atom was nothing.
“Burn!”
Heat washed over him again, and Blizzard screamed…
Fire erupted in a blazing storm, searing the very air with its
intensity. Flames danced across the sky, flickering in a
bizarrely beautiful display that dazzled the eyes as well as
blinded. Firefall heard the cries of those fools that had
stayed on the sidelines, returning after the Outsiders had defeated the
Crime Syndicate of Amerika to gawk at their deliverers. Hey
were running again now though, staggering blindly back into the shadows
of this shattered, grimy version of New York.
“Fight me, Dammit!”
Fire flared from the hands of Christina Blaze, arching across the sky
as she waved her arms, directing her fiery assault at the gaudy
magician Doctor Fate. The man simply floated back out of her
reach again, beyond the line of fire so to speak. As they all
did. None of the ‘Great’ Justice Society
would confront her, or even get within range for her to attack, and
that was frustrating as hell and making her mad.
When Adam Blakewell had first approached her at the Pyramid Club about
joining the Wizard’s new and improved Outsiders she had
jumped at the chance. Blakewell was one of the few men that
she respected enough, or at least considered listening to enough that
it had been an easy decision for her. Hell, she relished the
chance to let her Meta free, to run wild with her powers after
suppressing what she truly was for so long; almost half her life.
Oh there had been times that she had allowed her powers the freedom
that they warranted and deserved. Singing the pristine
fingers of the little Catholic boys that tried to get into her box back
in private school. Giving that conceited, pretentious bitch
Ashleigh Carrington the ‘haircut’ that she
deserved. Little things that kept her warm at night growing
up after her Meta had come to life at puberty. But never what
she really wanted. Never fully cutting loose like the heroes
and villains that saturated the TV and papers every day. That
was something of course that
Daddy
would never allow.
He had always been there, even though Christina knew that it was always
first in his own best interest. He had suppressed her wishes
and desires and covered up her more wicked impulses with an army of
accountants and lawyers and a ton of money. She often
wondered just how many people he had made rich, or made ‘go
away’ with a sizable contribution to charity. Just
how many people had he bought silence from, that his little girl would
never be exposed and he and his would not be humiliated.
And she supposed that he was right, at least to a point.
Exposure during her formative years would have changed her life
greatly. No more debutante balls. No more summers
in the Hamptons with the prying eyes of Paparazzi waiting in every
shadowy wing and every bush for a photograph of the Fire
Starter. God how she hated that name, and damn
King
to hell too.
She had not waited a heartbeat after Blakewell had explained the
plan. She would be an Outsider, complete with a colorful
costume and a flashy name and more importantly the chance to use her
powers with only a bit of restraint. And she had, to a point,
reveling in her newfound glory and prestige as Firefall. She
had followed the plan and done as she had been asked almost to the
letter. Unfortunately the Wizard had not reciprocated.
Christina Blaze had no idea what the villain’s overall scheme
was to have been. Maybe he had even achieved his goal, and
throwing his team of villains turned ‘hero’ to the
wolves was just another step along his path to victory. She
did not care. Now she could finally cut loose, no holds
barred, and against the JSA to boot. But no one would fight
her!
“They seem almost afraid of you.”
Christina yelped in surprise at the voice just behind her.
She glanced back, careful not to let Fate out of her sight, and saw the
latest addition to the team standing just behind, next to the archer,
Shaft. Whisper she called herself, some little
Chinee
ninja girl. Dressed mostly in black and carrying a sword,
they knew little else about her, other than she DID have
skills. She had proven that. Whatever other agenda
she had besides wanting to join the Outsiders, Blaze did not know nor
care. She had nothing to fear from a gook with a sword.
“What?” she asked, realizing what the woman had
said. “Afraid of me?”
The ninja woman nodded, her attention half-focused on Shaft who seemed
slightly out of it. He had an arrow notched but had yet to
fire a shot. Both seemed a little singed and smoldering due
to proximity, but otherwise unharmed thanks to their uniforms she
assumed.
“They steer clear of your fire,” the woman added,
slipping her slim hand into the small pouch that she wore at her
belt. “I wonder why?”
Blaze watched as the ninja moved her hand up to the archer’s
face and snapped something – a tiny crystalline vial
– under Shaft’s nose. Almost immediately
the archer began to hack and cough, staggering slightly until the woman
grabbed his arm to support his weight. She was apparently
stronger than her slight frame led to believe.
It was crazy to think that the JSA were afraid of her fire
though. That was just plain stupid. That was Doctor
Fate up there, and Superman for God’s sake.
Superman walked on the sun.
Still…
Christina Blaze concentrated as never before. She kept the
battle in sight, but focused on the mage hovering just out of range, or
so he hoped. She felt her Meta start to tingle within her,
sparking to life and growing, burning for release. Her own
skin started to smoke with the effort, trying to contain the blaze
building within her, but she had to wait and let the energy
build. Build…
A raging column of fire exploded upwards seemingly out of the
street. It was huge, spiraling skyward with a crackling
ferocity and brilliance that lit up the area for blocks
around. Trees lit afire in the nearby park and windows
shattered in the surrounding buildings from the sudden change of
pressure in the air; those windows that remained after the fight with
the CSA at any rate. There was a sound as a clap of thunder
as gas mains erupted down beneath the street, adding to the rising gout
of flame. The very ground shook with the force of the blast,
what was left of the street turning into a searing quagmire of tar.
But above it all, Christina heard the shriek of agony as her fire
fountain enveloped the high and mighty Doctor Fate. She
watched as his body squirmed, then writhed, darkening as the blast
erupted around him, burning him to a crisp. All of his
vaunted magic could not save him from the white-hot flames that Blaze
had brought forth, raising her arms to direct the fountain, her fingers
curling into fists to enclose and ensnare. She laughed as his
body withered and crumbled to ash, twisting beyond recognition in his
death throes.
She realized only then that she was naked as she let the fire
subside. Her smooth skin crackled as licks of flame danced
over her flesh, her hair ablaze and wild about her shoulders.
Her fire had been so intense as to burn away the resistant costume that
they had given her. She laughed at the absurdity of that,
turning back to the ninja girl.
“You were right. Did you see what I –
“
The tiny, black-gloved fist shot forward, opening only at the last
second to form a ‘Y’, catching Christina Blaze in
the throat and shattering her larynx. She gagged, gasping for
breath and realizing that the bitch had all but crushed her windpipe in
the process of cutting her voice. She could get oxygen, but
only just, and she could feel her fires dying because of it.
Her vision started to dim and gray as she stared at the tiny
ninja. The woman stepped forward as Christina staggered back,
stumbling now as her limbs started to go numb. Behind Whisper
she saw that Shaft had removed his mask and was rubbing at his eyes and
face. He had red hair she noted, the brilliant color fading
quickly as her sight faltered.
Her last thought was that he looked naggingly familiar…
“That was… a bit harsh.”
Tatsu Yamashiro put a finger to the naked woman’s throat and
nodded before standing. Christina Blaze would live and
perhaps even speak again one day if she got surgery. It was
better than she deserved. For now she was no longer a factor.
“Be thankful that the Batman swore me to
conditions. He is averse to killing, as am I unless
warranted. Our world would be better off with this one
dead. Luckily, for her, this is not our world.”
“Speaking of which?”
The woman once known as Katana when she was with another band of
Outsiders turned back to the man called Arsenal. Roy Harper,
Titan and Federal Agent seemed a bit dazed and singed but otherwise
none the worse for wear. He had been as used, if not more so,
by the Wizard as had they all. Brainwashed or hypnotized into
playing the role of Shaft in this End Game, for what purpose she could
not begin to fathom. He looked more confused than anything at
the moment, begging answers by a boyish look. Answers that
she did not have, even were there time and opportunity to tell.
With the sudden defeat of Firefall, the remaining members of the
Justice Society seemed to excel. Whatever their fear of the
woman’s fiery Meta, they were no longer impeded.
Tatsu considered briefly that she might have been premature in her
defeat of the woman, Blaze.
“Now is not the time, Harper,” she said, stepping
to guard his back, hoping that his head had cleared enough to do
likewise. She felt the momentary brush of his broad back,
muscles honed to steel tautness from years of pulling high-tensity
bowstrings. She nodded, drawing her sword again and striking
a defensive stance. “Should we survive,
I’ll tell you all that I know. For now, let us try
and stay alive.”
“Stay alive?” she heard the confusion in
Harper’s voice. “That’s the
JSA! They’re friends, and
they
don’t kill.”
“Don’t be so certain,” Katana whispered,
licking her lips while watching as the Batman drew his handgun and
aimed…
Angelo Bend was not stupid. Misguided at times perhaps, and
maybe a bit too greedy for his own good, but never stupid. He
knew a sinking ship when he saw one, and right now the water was
lapping at his ankles.
Firefall was down, though just what had taken her out he was not
certain. She had taken out Fate in a glorious display of
fire, and no easy feat that. The mage was powerful to be
sure, but Bend imagined that even he was not immune to
surprise. And perhaps the lady had simply ‘burned
herself out’, employing that vast amount of Meta
power. Seeing the ninja woman standing back to back with
Arsenal however, he somehow doubted that.
She was a plant then. A hero disguised as a villain in some
insane twist of irony. Whatever and whoever, she had
apparently snapped the Teen Titan out of his trance, bringing a third
side to the battle.
The Reverse Flash had still not returned, off chasing the original
Flash around the world no doubt. Zoom was just shy of
insanity though, so perhaps his absence was a plus, since he did take
Garrick along for the ride.
Blizzard was done as well. He had not stood a chance really,
with Superman and the Atom having singled him out. Couple
that with the blast of overwhelming heat that Firefall had let loose,
well, the poor boy was destined for failure. That in itself
was not a good thing however.
Superman was looking for a new target.
Angle Man concentrated, still unbelieving how easy it was to call on
his own powers now. He had the Wizard to thank for that, as
he and Doctor Alchemy had combined their specific magicks to actually
bond Bend with the mystic Set Square from which he derived his own
reality altering abilities. The Wizard had made Bend a force
to reckon with; a Meta in his own right, and Angle Man had no problem
whatsoever dropping his own nomenclature for the only slightly less
ridiculous code name of Wind.
Running with the Outsiders had been entertaining, and Bend had to admit
that he had enjoyed being on the flip side of the coin for a
time. He was a vain man – he had never admitted
otherwise, and had lapped up the attention of the press and sheep that
seemed to flock driven by hero worship. He had enjoyed the
good life; the rich headquarters on Long Island and even the
camaraderie with his fellows, such as they were. That all
seemed to be over now though.
Bend drifted, floating back into the shadows and altering spacial
perceptions about him. For all his vaunted abilities, the Man
of Steel would be hard-pressed to find him, virtually invisible as he
became to all the spectrum of known light. Granted, Superman
might hear him, but with the battle raging full force yet, he would
have a time at that.
Angelo Bend knew that he should probably simply leave. The
Outsiders were done, by and large. The Hour Man was still
chipping away at Rocker, and Star Sapphire seemed on her last shapely
legs against the Green Lantern. And even if by some chance
the team might turn the tide and beat the likes of the JSA, there was
still the Spectre to reckon with.
Bend shivered as he looked at that ghastly giant. From all he
had heard of the mysterious hero, he had powers that could end the
fight with a simple wave of his hand. Why he was just
standing there Bend could not understand, but he was thankful of that.
A blast of frigid air slammed him back against the wall. Bend
blinked, shaking his head and wondering what had happened when he saw
an all too familiar streak of violet baring down on him.
Superman had spotted him somehow, using his Super Breath to blow Bend
back into the wall and was now rocketing forth for the final blow.
“Sorry, mi amore.”
Angelo Bend was not stupid. He knew when it was time to
go. He thought of Milan and made it so, regretting only for a
moment that he did not see the look on Superman’s face as he
plowed into the wall where Bend no longer was…
Rutland,
Vermont
Eobard Thrawne stuttered to a halt on the quaint street.
Small, rustic buildings stood to either side brilliantly lit and
decorated in shades of brown and orange. There were tears in
his eyes as he looked about, gasping for breath with his hands on his
knees as he doubled over in an agony that he had never felt
before. He was tired.
It seemed as though he had been running for hours, but he knew that it
had really only been seconds. Seconds and miles as he had
chased Jay Garrick around the globe time and time again. It
had been agonizing as well as frustrating, their mad race.
Every time that Professor Zoom seemed to come within reach of the elder
Flash, Garrick would simply grin that conceited grin of his and dash
away again. Thrawne had never known the speedster to be so
fast, or himself so slow.
It was as though the Speed Force had abandoned him, which of course was
impossible. Like Allen and West, Thrawne was a part of the
Speed Force, and more. He was better, being an anomaly in the
Time Stream as well. There was no way that the old man should
have eluded him for so long. And no way that Zoom should ever
be exhausted. But he was.
“You all right there, fella?”
Thrawne looked up still breathing hard and feeling the sweat dripping
down his back and under his mask. He blinked, at first
focusing on the wide, leering face some distance away before realizing
that that was not the source of the voice. Someone in one of
the buildings had carved out some huge orange gourd and lit it from the
inside with a candle apparently, making the demonic face in the shell
dance with a devilish glee. Thrawne felt a hand on his
shoulder and jumped, stepping away quickly and feeling the pressure in
his chest again.
He looked at the man that had touched him; middle-aged and slightly
overweight. He was removing a plastic domino mask to place a
pair of black horn-rimmed glasses on his nose. One of the
savages, curious and braver than the rest.
“You need help? Some water maybe? You
look kind’a worn out.” The man smiled
slightly, his gaze drifting over Zoom’s shining golden and
scarlet costume as he held out a plastic bottle that no doubt held some
contaminated version of water.
Thrawne swallowed, trying to find his voice as he waved the man
away. Damned if he would let these ignorant savages ingest
their foul, tainted liquid into his purity. He noted others
creeping near now too, getting bolder with each passing
second. They all wore masks of a sort, a few with bed linen
draped about their shoulders and one even, a woman dressed in a long,
black gown and carrying a broom. What sort of backwater
village had he stumbled in to?
A bolt of lightning appeared before him, his vision blotted out by the
familiar red backdrop. Thrawne looked up into the smiling
face of Jay Garrick, the cocky Flash tipping his helmet back and
grinning widely. He did not even look the least bit winded.
“At ease, folks,” he said, gesturing that the
growing crowd should stand their distance.
“Everything’s under control.”
Putting his fists to his hips, Garrick smiled down at Thrawne.
“You gave me quite a race, son. I’ll give
you that. But I
AM
the Flash; ‘Fastest Man Alive’. Best you
surrender now.”
Fastest Man Alive!
Never!
Thrawne screamed, lunging forward with all that remained of his
strength. His hands and fingers curled into claws that sought
out Jay Garrick’s throat. He was seeing red,
wanting nothing more than to slay the old man. First him,
then West, and all the others on that trail that would finally lead him
to Barry Allen. His fingers curled about flesh for a split
second, less than a heartbeat, the closed on empty air.
Garrick had not even moved aside from shaking his head sadly.
His damnable smile never faltered however.
“Should’ve known,” Garrick said, just
before he disappeared.
It took a moment before Thrawne realized that he was suddenly flat on
his back and staring up at Garrick and the savages circling about in
the fringes of his sight. It was another moment before his
hearing recognized the flurry of snapping sounds, like wood breaking.
Or bone…
Another moment and the pain overwhelmed him. His shattered
bones would not work as his body sagged into the cobblestones beneath
him. All he could do was scream, and even that was an effort
as the first wound that Garrick had inflicted seemed to flare, caught
up within the wave of agony washing over his body.
“My God.”
Thrawne’s blurred vision barely registered the savage as his
bottled water bounced off the cobbled street. He looked
foolish and pale, as though he had just seen his god for the first
time. Thrawne supposed that he had.
“At ease, citizen,” Garrick said, and even Thrawne
felt the wave of calm and reassurance emanating from the old
man’s words. “This man’s a
villain to be sure, but he’ll be no more problem.
Rest assured. The Flash of the Justice Society is on the
case!”
Thankfully with that, Professor Zoom’s world faded away.
The man watched in awe as first the man in the yellow costume vanished,
followed swiftly by the other clad like the FTD Florist, if not a bit
more colorfully. He was confused, wondering what had just
taken place, certain that it was monumental, if not a bit
horrific. But he felt calm. And forgetful...
He bent to pick up his water bottle, noticing only then that he had
dropped his plastic mask as well. He picked it up, staring at
the black plastic, turning it over in his hand.
“What about the parade, Tom? It’s getting
dark.”
Tom Fagan half-smiled as he nodded to his friend, his mind
racing. “Sure, Roy,” he replied, clapping
the writer on the shoulder. “Can’t have
you and the others coming all the way from New York an’ not
have a parade to remember. I’ll be along in a
minute.”
Tom watched as the others headed down the street, the crowd dispersing
and getting back into the spirit of the evening. It was
Halloween after all, and with the special guests from New York on hand,
Rutland was planning the greatest parade ever.
Inspired, Tom Fagan tossed the domino mask into the closest trashcan
and hurried towards his home just a few blocks away. He hoped
that he had time to make a real costume for the parade…
Manhattan
She watched the monitors closely, almost lustfully as the battle
raged. She had dimmed the lights allowing only the more
personal glow of her Laptop to permeate the darkness, allowing the
various screens better clarity. She typed as she watched,
confident in the knowledge that she need not see the keyboard as she
took notes on the strange visitors that had invaded the city.
Her
city…
She had been a bit enraged at first at that. Kent knew not to
cross the border. They had a deal. Kryptonite had
exchanged hands for promises. But of course Wayne had always
said that the alien could not be trusted. She only hoped that
he had received his long overdue just rewards.
The fight was winding down now, however. She had missed some
of it when the screens had whited out with the fiery woman’s
explosive display. That had pissed her off. She had
lost information as she frantically tried to regain the feed from
Kent’s
World
News. Oddly, that
had vanished, she finally had to admit. On its frequency was
another broadcast however, a channel with the call letters
WGBS.
Cycling through the channels she found there were suddenly even more
stations;
CNN,
FOX
NEWS, and even a
GBC
coming from Gotham. She
knew
there was no Gotham Broadcasting Company. Never had been.
But there it was, along with the others, seemingly more every time she
cycled through the frequencies. Just what the hell was
happening?
She wondered too just what had happened to Kent and the rest of the
CSA. One moment they had been there defeated - beautifully
humbled by these Outsiders – and the next they were
gone. The huge green cloaked monstrosity had simply engulfed
them in its fist and they had vanished. Swiftly to be
replaced by the others; the
Justice
Society of America.
Who the fuck were they?
They did seem vaguely familiar, she had to admit. Especially
the almost carbon copies of Ultraman and Owlman with just minor changes
to costume. There was one that resembled Power Ring, if only
in the green flame of his abilities and imagination, and a speedster
too, though he looked nothing like Quick. And who was the
woman in the red long johns and a pot on her head?
She set her computers to searching, using the vast Database of the New
Amsterdam… New York Public Library to scan the Internet for
any reference. Bits and pieces popped up slowly and surely,
but the reports were conflicting often and sometimes garbled.
It was as though the information was being placed into the data bank
bit by bit as someone remembered something.
Quite strange…
She awaited a fresh download, settling back in her chair as she watched
the fight, or what remained of it. The Outsiders were down to
three members now as the man called Hour Man had pounded the big Golem
right through the weakened foundations of the street. She
noted that he did not follow, but went to join his fellows, half of
whom were watching the pseudo Power Ring humiliate the woman dressed in
pink and lavender, the other half surrounding the archer and the woman
with the sword. Whoever this ‘Society’
was, they were almost as cruel as the CSA.
A ‘ping’ as her computers registered newly
downloaded files. She turned, glancing at the
Laptop’s screen:
JUSTICE
SOCIETY CALLED UP!
A news story from
The
Daily Star from the early
forties stating that the JSA had been drafted into military service in
the Second World War. It went on to talk about the Justice
Battalion and the All-Star Squadron going to ‘Hit Hitler
where he lives!’. If these were heroes, why were
they against the greatest humanitarian who ever lived? And
just what had been the Second World War? It seemed to
coincide with when Kent had devastated Nippon, but no war had broken
out. Just the opposite. Mussolini had been hanged
and his Fascist State eradicated right along with Hitler’s
Nationalist movement. Kent had saved the world from nuclear
annihilation and became the world’s golden boy over night.
It was all too confusing.
Other stories filtered through the SPAM filters as well.
Something called HUAC had disbanded the JSA for a decade, but then
another story heralded their return in the Sixties. They
later defeated their evil nemesis; the Injustice Society.
They apparently saved the world time and again, both as a team and
individually. Why had she never heard of them
before? Why did they seem so familiar?
“Where’d she go?”
She turned back to the monitors to see the JSA looking befuddled and
confused. The bogus Power Ring – Green Lantern was
floating there alone. The woman in pink had vanished and the
others were gathering near.
“Replay,” the woman said as her fingers flew across
the keys. One of the monitors flickered to show indeed that
the woman who had been fighting the Green Lantern had simply winked out
of existence. Thinking quickly, she shifted scenes and saw
that in the confusion the ninja and the archer were gone as well.
Rewinding she saw that the Batman had fired his Luger, and the woman
with the sword had miraculously flicked the bullet out of
mid-air. The archer had then fired an arrow, the shaft
slipping easily into the short, tight barrel of the handgun.
She cursed as the screen turned to snow.
She made note, then SAVED her files, watching as the man in the Hermes
helmet reappeared. She plugged in an External Hard Drive; 180
Gigs and hopefully more than enough to SAVE the various News
Feeds. She would edit out the drivel later and create files
on the various newcomers, singularly and en masse. There were
more pressing matters to attend at the moment, however.
She watched as the JSA mocked for the cameras, giving mindless speeches
for the masses and finally flying off in a flare of theatrical
glory. They did not seem concerned that one of their number
had died, nor did they go into the hole to retrieve the
Golem. They simply took the obvious defeated; Firefall and
Ice Storm.
Curiouser and curiouser…
Barbara Gordon set her computers on Stand By; still monitoring the
battle scene and the plethora of News Channels that had suddenly
cropped up as she stretched, then walked away from her
workstation. She went to a bust of William Shakespeare, and
with a quick moment’s contemplation tilted back the head to
reveal a small red knob sequestered beneath. She turned the
knob, not even looking as a portion of bookcase slid back and away to
reveal a hidden shaft and a pair of brass poles that descended into the
darkness. She smiled, tilting Shakespeare’s head
back into place before striding purposefully to the hidden shaft.
“Time for Owl Girl to come out of retirement,” she
mused before wrapping her long, muscular legs about the pole and
sliding down into the darkness.
Cue Theme Song…
Gotham
City
Earth
1
It took a moment to get his bearings.
He hated the teleporter, but he knew that it was a necessity with the
likes of Kent and Lane running the show. Never knew when he
might need a quick exit stage left. Still, he stood sickly
for far too long, waiting for his stomach to settle and his head to
stop spinning. He hoped he would acclimate before Wayne
vanished.
He needed his counterpart, the Bat. There were far too many
questions that he could not answer without a good deal more
time. He knew that the Batman would be able too
however. He deserved that much dap. Like Owlman on
Earth 1, the Batman of Earth 2 had all the answers.
He could feel the vastness of the Cave about him, and only for a moment
regretted that he had sold the family estate on the outskirts of his
own Gotham. Walt’s asking price had been just a bit
too much for him to ignore, and Disney: Gotham was a cash
cow. The masses did need distraction after all.
It was cool within, and he could hear water dripping in the distance,
along with the flutter of leathern wings. It was the BAT Cave
after all, so flying rodents were a given. Too, he saw dim
but flickering lights in the distance, levels up and away.
Bat Computer no doubt, with Bat this and Bat that. Give the
man his simple pleasures. That was where he needed to be,
however, so the Owlman started to look for the stairs.
Something slammed into the back of his knees, and a second later
something else knocked his feet from under him. He landed
hard on his ass, his wounded leg screaming in sudden pain
again. Something dark flitted past in the shadows and his
hands went to his Utility Belt –
A knuckle jabbed into the nerve cluster just above his
shoulder. His right arm went dead, flopping to the ground
like a cold fish. Something slammed down onto his throat, and
he knew that if he breathed wrong he would be dead. He
strained to focus in the dim.
He stared up the lithe, trim body dressed in the blues and grays of the
Bat. He blinked however, realizing immediately that this was
not Wayne. Hell, it wasn’t even a man…
Cassandra Cain stared down at the man she had pinned
underfoot. She was ready to end his life with a simple twist
of her ankle, but she was curious. Where had he come from,
getting past the Cave’s defenses so easily? And
more importantly, who was he? His costume was reminiscent of
the Batman’s, but with a bird motif and vaguely familiar.
He seemed to be choking, so she eased pressure just a bit, ready to
drop down and force her fist through his skull if he tried anything
untoward. The man coughed, then grinned as he looked up at
her.
“Hey, sailor. New in town?”
Cassandra Cain, the Batman frowned…
Shaft
