Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, Arlington
National Cemetery
‘Call me a nostalgic
sum’bitch… but I always liked Arlington. The Tomb,
actually. Gives me time to think. And some really good listeners,
too…’
“Okay, boys. What should I do? Someone’s after me.
She’s diggin’ too deep. And I’d rather not have her
hurt.” A man in a trench coat and fedora stands in front of the
Tomb… the Honor Guard not bothering him. There is a pause after
he speaks.
“I know about Beau. He was a good kid. And I had nothing to do
with that. You guys know how the Company is. I spill my grief to you
guys often enough…” This is said with a sigh.
“Yeah. I figured that’s what you’d say. See you guys
next month.” The man gives a salute to the Tomb, tips his hat to
the guard and walks off. A few blocks away, he gets in the back of a
black car.
“Captain?” The young man behind the wheel asks.
“Yeah? What is it, Corporal?” The man says, taking off his
hat and pulling at his face. It stretches and tears off…
revealing what lies beneath. Bandages.
“The General contacted me and left a message. Says it’s
important.”
“He’d say that if he couldn’t wipe himself.”
“Shall I take you to the offices, then? He’s in
Arlington…” If the man’s face wasn’t swathed
with bandages… you would’ve seen his eyebrow cock up.
“He never bothers me at Arlington… something’s
up…”
“Yes sir.” The car pulls out of the cemetery… Its
destination is a non-descript building. The offices. Jack (for that is
who the man at the Tomb is) heads into the building.
“Ah, Soldier. Perfect timing.” The General says. He’s
sitting on a bench. Right in the lobby.
“Sir.” Jack replies.
“Sit down. We need to have words.” The General waits for
Jack to do so. And almost immediately, the Unknown Soldier lights up
and starts to smoke.
“Okay. Why’re you here? I’m usually back at the base
in a few days…” Jack asks.
“Usually. However, AI has gotten some Intel that you’d
like. You recognize this?” The General holds up a piece of paper.
On it is a formula.
“How the fuck did you get that?” Jack recognizes the
formula. It’s a poison. But, much worse.
“Well… a contact of mine in the bureau found this and sent
it to me. It was found in a burnt out Meth lab. You know what it
is.”
“Hell Fog. How’d some crack head dealer get that?”
“We’re not sure. We’d like you to find out. I read
the reports on this shit. If anybody is making that, we are all in
trouble.”
“Understood.” With that, Jack stands up.
“Soldier, once you get the information from him about this, do
what you see fit.” The General says. Jack nods as he leaves the
building.
Somebody’s not going to be happy when he’s done.
New York City, Brooklyn
Denny Brock was new to the NYPD… and this was his first real
call… noise disturbance or something. Nothing that he
couldn’t handle.
His mind changed when he walked into the building.
The entire first floor was littered with spent casings and several dead
bodies.
One hell of a gun fight.
The next three weren’t all that good either.
Similar evidence of major violence.
On the fifth floor…. Denny came face to face with a demon. Or
close to it.
On that floor, there were only two living people. A tall man in a
trenchcoat and fedora. Another man lifted off by his collar by the
taller one… his face bloody and broken.
The broken man whispered a word Denny couldn’t hear…
before he died. The cop fainted when the demon-like man turned towards
him…
Appalachian Mountain Facility
“Argentina?” The
General asked.
”Yeah. What about
it?” Jack replied.
“What could possibly be
in Argentina?”
“Okay… only two
people know the true secret of the Hell Fog, alright. Me and this guy
in Argentina, so just let me do what I have to do.” Jack said,
packing his things.
”I know who you’re
talking about. And I don’t like it.”
“Yeah? And you’d
rather to have the world burn? Is that it? Please say so now.”
“No. I don’t want
the world to burn. We shouldn’t put this amount of trust into
this man. It’s dangerous.” Jack replied by lighting up a
cigarette.
”So are a lot of other
things.”
Buenos
Aires, two days later
There
was something… off about the sign. Yes, Argentina was a Spanish
speaking country… but the sign… it was in German. It
said… and very eloquently:
Heißen Sie Willkommen zum
Haus vom gebrochenen... wie wählen Sie zu sterben??
“Welcome to the House of the Broken
… how do you choose to die? God damn, they have to get
something… I dunno… snappier,” Jack said to
himself. He hated coming down here. Not because he spent a good part of
his… new life killing German National Socialists…
but… who was he kidding? He despised Nazis. Simple as that.
It didn’t take him long
to get in… nor find the particular bastard he was looking for.
His only real arch-nemesis,
Jack didn’t count a majority of the human scum he dealt with.
They didn’t deserve such a title.
“Helmut von
Stauffen,” Jack says with a sigh, and enters the room.
It was hard to think that the
haunched figure in the wheelchair could have been, at one time, one of
the most feared agents of the Wassen SS.
“I know that you are
there, Soldier. No sense in you sneaking around,” Von Stauffen
said from his chair. True, the man was past 90… maybe even 100,
but he was old. Not blind. Not dead. His senses and sense had not left
him yet.
“Now you tell me…
what do you want?”
“Me? Nothing much. What?
Can’t a man catch up with some old friends?” Jack said,
moving over to the table with a Go board… and placed a white
piece on it.
“That’s it? You
come here and put a piece on the game board…. We barely talk,
then you leave. What could you possibly want with an old cripple like
me?” Von Stauffen said, turning to his visitor.
“Information.”
“Information? What can
an old Nazi like me give to you that would be considered, useful?”
“You remember the Hell
Fog?” Jack asked. The old SS agent blanched. Only a bit, however.
“Yes. What about it? Why
would you ask about a nerve toxin that has been lost to the world since
1944?” The German’s… anxiety seemed to increase.
“Honestly? It
isn’t so lost. A few… pals of mine found some crack heads
making that gunk in a meth lab. Now… here’s the
thing… you know the formula. I know the formula. No one else
knows the formula. And we both know that a bunch of burnt out druggies
can’t make it.” Jack said, sitting at the table with the Go
board.. Von Stauffen makes it to the table and moves a black piece on
the board.
“Alright. I see what
you’re saying now… someone is manufacturing Hell Fog? Or
at least tried to?”
“Mmmmhmmmm…”
Jack said, placing another white piece on the board.
“Now… the real
question, Knight is how. Like I said, only two people in the world know
the formula and they’re sitting in this room,” Jack added.
“Not exactly. Baron
Blitzkrieg knows the formula. And I’m sure Captain Nazi does as
well…” Von Stauffen replied… not missing a beat as
he places a black piece on the board.
“I didn’t realize
that. However, last I checked… Baron Blitzkrieg is currently
imprisoned in the JLA Watchtower and Nazi is serving a nice long
sentence in the Slab.” Jack smoothly makes his move as he
talks…
“And I know you
haven’t gotten any visitors besides myself for the last 30
years… not since those Israelis tried their luck.”
“Did you destroy all the
gas? All the test bodies? The entire lab?” Von Stauffen asked.
“I did. I know I did.
But… it’s possible they may have collected samples of the
toxin from plants. God damn it!” Jack swore, figuring out his
folly.
“There you have it then.
That’s how someone got the Hell Fog.” Von Stauffen
added… making his move. Jack nods… and the game
continues… once again in a stalemate. And the American leaves
the building… the city… the country more informed then he
was when he came.
In several hours, he was in
Gotham. His mind mulling over what to do.
He knew the dangers of Hell
Fog. He also knew the dangers of Uncle Istvan’s group. And if the
ex-Soviet general could make that damn toxin… bad things will
happen.
Millions of people…
wasting away to nothing… then going blood simple. The toxin
affected one on a level that was unknown… is still
unknown… and if Jack had anything to say about it, it will
remain unknown.
It caused a
person’s…. passive aggressors to shut off. Among other
things... your passive aggressors tell your body: You slept…
therefore you are no longer tired. You ate… therefore you are
not hungry.
Those affected by the Hell
Fog? Those no longer worked. You ate… but you were still hungry.
That, among with the
degenerative properties of the toxin itself… led to insanity.
Violent insanity as people would literally rip each other apart with
their bare hands to satiate their base urges.
Though… there was some
good out of this… that look on Blondie’s face when Jack
was at her door… that was priceless.
“How the hell did you
find me?” Dinah was… upset didn’t do the emotion
justice at this time.
“You’re not the
only one that’s resourceful.” Jack said… his hand
flying up… neatly catching Dinah’s fist… then her
foot.
“I really don’t
have the time for this, to be honest. Think about it… can you
name one good reason to come over to you civilian apartment?”
Jack asked… trying to take control of the situation.
“Assassination, for one?
Like that CIA agent?” was Dinah’s curt reply…
followed by another foot aimed at Jack’s head. He ducked.
“I had nothing to do
with Agent Beau dying. That was entirely CIA. So, don’t blame me
for something I didn’t do!” Jack replied… his voice
rising as he ducked and dodged and blocked a few more of Dinah’s
attacks. Which stopped with a quick takedown from Jack.
“Now…
that’s better. Now we can be all civil like and polite.
Alright?” Jack asked… being as polite as he can while
holding Dinah in a grapple. The blonde nodded.
“Good. Now… on
normal circumstances, I’d avoid you like the plague. You dig too
deep and go around sticking your nose where it don’t belong. That
being said…. I have a very good reason to come to you.
“That reason is that
there’s this crime lord. He’s ex-military. Ex-Soviet
military. Has delusions of social grandeur when it comes to political
ideologies. Now, last week… I discovered something unsettling.
Uncle Istvan… that general that’s been trying to…
you know… take over the world one block at a time… is
branching out. He’s got himself a new toy.
“That new toy?
It’s called Hell Fog. Very nasty business, that is. Our current
estimates on his production? He’ll have enough to blanket most of
the Eastern Coast. That’s not good. In fact, that’s very,
very, very bad. Now, I’m not what you’d call a patriot,
it’s just that I can’t tell my bosses no. I’m sure
you understand where I’m coming from in that regard,
right?” Jack finished… letting his grip slack just a bit
to allow Dinah to speak.
“So… you’re
going to steal that Hell Fog for the United States? Trade on lunatic
with a bomb for another?” Dinah asked… a tad angry.
She’s never been too big on governments, Ollie did rub off on her
a little.
“No. I’m going to
destroy it. And everything that has to do with it. I thought I was done
with that junk a long time ago… but I wasn’t as…
encompassing as I should have been and somehow it slipped through my
fingers,” Jack said. This is what happens when you work for the
State… No one trusts you.
“And why do you need my
help? And why should I?” Dinah asked…. Almost through
gritted teeth.
“You know what?”
Jack said… letting go of Dinah.
“Why should you? I
mean… it’s only the whole free world we’re talking
about! Sure… I may not be one of humanity’s biggest fans,
but I live here… and my understanding is, is that a ticket off
this rock is expensive. But, you don’t have to worry about it.
The world had a good run…” Jack continued to rant.
Vietnam… Korea... he didn’t stop, really. Just trailed
off… losing himself in his rant.
This continued for a few
moments.
“All right. You made
your point. You need point. Now… Why come to me?” Dinah
asked.
“Why you? You dug too
deep. You didn’t leave well enough alone. You could have
stopped… but didn’t. That and you have no connections to
any government. And, you were a member of the Justice League. That
doesn’t hurt, either. You’re someone I can trust And in my
line of work? My trust is worth more then gold,” Jack said.
“You’re making a
lot of sense… however… I have one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You tell me
everything… I don’t care if it’s classified or
not… you tell me everything about you… what you’ve
done. No jokes.”
