Post by David on Jan 29, 2008 19:42:48 GMT -5
PROLOGUE
“They’re back.”
The man in the cloak and top hat stared around the table at his associates, glaring at each of them in turn. The pointed ends of his moustache and goatee seemed to quiver in offense. “The Justice Society of America is back!”
It was an opulent room, and a warm fire blazed in the hearth. Glasses of champagne sat on the table before them. It almost could have been a reunion of old friends…
“Is that why you called us here, Wizard?” A similarly dressed man, lacking the facial hair, said with a droll smile. He was absently twirling an ornate cane, and looking bored.
“Of course that’s why I called us back together, Shade!” Snapped W.I. Zard. “Have you forgotten how many times they stood between you and your prize? How many times the Flash outwitted you?”
“Outwitted?” The Shade raised an eyebrow. “Hardly. And it was never about the prize for me. It amused me to cross swords with the mystery men from time to time. Relieved the tedium of immortality.”
“Put you in your place more like it.” Cackled the Fiddler, who nudged the equally ancient-looking gentleman at his left, dislodging the monocle from his eye.
Jonathan Cheval glanced sidelong at the Fiddler, restored his lens, and said “I fail to see how this should concern us, William. I, for one, long ago gave up the life of crime. I paid my debt to society, and am content in my retirement.”
“But you have not paid your debt to our Society!” The Wizard leaned forward over the table. “We owe the JSA for all those defeats, all those disappointments…! That they should rise again after all this time is an affront to us!”
Behind the Wizard, a tall figure, his pasty, ghoulish features lit by the firelight, intoned: “Solomon Grundy kill Green Lantern.”
“Yes! And Flash! And Starman!” Giggled the doll-faced figure in motley, twirling the ends of his ropy, red hair.”
“Starman is dead already, Ragdoll.” The Monocle sighed. “And come to think of it, I thought you were, as well.”
Ragdoll twittered nervously and pulled his leg behind his head. “Dear old granddad! I’m the new improved model! But he told me all about you, Jonny. Like how the violin wasn’t the only thing the maestro next to you fiddled wi---.”
The Monocle shot from his chair, red-faced, and the Fiddler sputtered, but laughter rose from the others.
Sparks flew from the tip of the Wizard’s wand, silencing them all abruptly. His white, empty eyes raked the table, and they settled down.
“Ragdoll has his own motivation for being here, as do the others who proudly bear the names of our former, departed teammates.” He looked in turn from the blue-tinged man with the frosty breath, to the fierce-looking, tattooed huntress at his side. “Gentlemen, meet Dr. Joar Mahkent’s son Cameron, the new Icicle. And this lovely lady is the daughter of our very own Paula Brooks, the Huntress, and Crusher Crock, the Sportsmaster. Her name is Artemis Crock, but history will remember her as the Tigress!”
The busty, flame-haired woman in skin-tight tiger-stripes glared back at their appraising glances.
“This is all very well and good, William.” The Monocle said in a tone of thinly concealed exasperation. “But what makes you think we shall fare any better against the JSA now than we ever did before?”
Still standing, Zard stared down his long nose at Cheval. “Because our full strength has not yet been revealed. And whilst you were paying your debt to society, Jonathan, I was not idle. I traveled this world, studying deep magics and perfecting my art. I was but a neophyte the last time I faced our foes, barely aware of the power at my command, of the sorceries I am capable of…! I steeped myself in arcane studies---.”
The Shade yawned audibly.
“--- and I fought for my power! Sacrificed for it! And I planned for this moment. Now, I am a Master, and I hunger to pay the Justice Society back for those years of humiliation! I will not endure their triumph a moment longer!” Zard’s voice rose as he spoke, gathering passion and intensity. “And I call upon all of you to stand at my side. It’s time for the Injustice Society of the World to live again!” He snatched up a knife from the table in front of him, and plunged it deep into the wood with a rapturous exhalation.
Around the table, others picked up the knives laid out for them: the Shade, with a small shrug; the Fiddler, with a palsied effort; Ragdoll, Icicle and Tigress, all without hesitation. Solomon Grundy growled his assent.
The only hold-out was the Monocle.
They all stared at him, as he calmly drained the last of his champagne and got wearily to his feet.
“My friends, I must decline this invitation.” He told them, pushing in his chair, not meeting their eyes. “I have not the immortality of William or Dickie, the youth of our new associates, nor the desire for revenge that burns within Grundy and Isaac,” He put his hand on the shoulder of the Fiddler. “I am old, and my last ambition is to live out my days amidst my books and my garden. Farewell, and good luck.”
He walked slowly to the door, no one else saying a word.
Before he got to the ornate carved wooden doors, his steps slowed. A chill seemed to fill the room, and even the Icicle shivered. The little hairs prickled on Tigress’s arm, and she stared in growing horror at the Monocle.
Cheval halted in his tracks, his hands going to his chest. The monocle fell from his eye, and he sank to his knees onto the thick carpet, gasping. Before him materialized a spectral figure in white, dressed in elegant clothes of centuries past…
“Welcome, Craddock.” The Wizard’s voice broke the stunned silence. “Glad you could make it.”
With a last strangled breath, Jonathan Cheval fell dead, his frail heart burst, at the feet of the Gentleman Ghost.
“Anybody else want to leave?” Intoned the Ghost in a hollow, rattling voice.
No one spoke.
The Wizard raised a clenched fist and a smile twisted his thin lips. “This time, there will be no stopping us.” He hissed. “We will destroy the Justice Society of America!”
“They’re back.”
The man in the cloak and top hat stared around the table at his associates, glaring at each of them in turn. The pointed ends of his moustache and goatee seemed to quiver in offense. “The Justice Society of America is back!”
It was an opulent room, and a warm fire blazed in the hearth. Glasses of champagne sat on the table before them. It almost could have been a reunion of old friends…
“Is that why you called us here, Wizard?” A similarly dressed man, lacking the facial hair, said with a droll smile. He was absently twirling an ornate cane, and looking bored.
“Of course that’s why I called us back together, Shade!” Snapped W.I. Zard. “Have you forgotten how many times they stood between you and your prize? How many times the Flash outwitted you?”
“Outwitted?” The Shade raised an eyebrow. “Hardly. And it was never about the prize for me. It amused me to cross swords with the mystery men from time to time. Relieved the tedium of immortality.”
“Put you in your place more like it.” Cackled the Fiddler, who nudged the equally ancient-looking gentleman at his left, dislodging the monocle from his eye.
Jonathan Cheval glanced sidelong at the Fiddler, restored his lens, and said “I fail to see how this should concern us, William. I, for one, long ago gave up the life of crime. I paid my debt to society, and am content in my retirement.”
“But you have not paid your debt to our Society!” The Wizard leaned forward over the table. “We owe the JSA for all those defeats, all those disappointments…! That they should rise again after all this time is an affront to us!”
Behind the Wizard, a tall figure, his pasty, ghoulish features lit by the firelight, intoned: “Solomon Grundy kill Green Lantern.”
“Yes! And Flash! And Starman!” Giggled the doll-faced figure in motley, twirling the ends of his ropy, red hair.”
“Starman is dead already, Ragdoll.” The Monocle sighed. “And come to think of it, I thought you were, as well.”
Ragdoll twittered nervously and pulled his leg behind his head. “Dear old granddad! I’m the new improved model! But he told me all about you, Jonny. Like how the violin wasn’t the only thing the maestro next to you fiddled wi---.”
The Monocle shot from his chair, red-faced, and the Fiddler sputtered, but laughter rose from the others.
Sparks flew from the tip of the Wizard’s wand, silencing them all abruptly. His white, empty eyes raked the table, and they settled down.
“Ragdoll has his own motivation for being here, as do the others who proudly bear the names of our former, departed teammates.” He looked in turn from the blue-tinged man with the frosty breath, to the fierce-looking, tattooed huntress at his side. “Gentlemen, meet Dr. Joar Mahkent’s son Cameron, the new Icicle. And this lovely lady is the daughter of our very own Paula Brooks, the Huntress, and Crusher Crock, the Sportsmaster. Her name is Artemis Crock, but history will remember her as the Tigress!”
The busty, flame-haired woman in skin-tight tiger-stripes glared back at their appraising glances.
“This is all very well and good, William.” The Monocle said in a tone of thinly concealed exasperation. “But what makes you think we shall fare any better against the JSA now than we ever did before?”
Still standing, Zard stared down his long nose at Cheval. “Because our full strength has not yet been revealed. And whilst you were paying your debt to society, Jonathan, I was not idle. I traveled this world, studying deep magics and perfecting my art. I was but a neophyte the last time I faced our foes, barely aware of the power at my command, of the sorceries I am capable of…! I steeped myself in arcane studies---.”
The Shade yawned audibly.
“--- and I fought for my power! Sacrificed for it! And I planned for this moment. Now, I am a Master, and I hunger to pay the Justice Society back for those years of humiliation! I will not endure their triumph a moment longer!” Zard’s voice rose as he spoke, gathering passion and intensity. “And I call upon all of you to stand at my side. It’s time for the Injustice Society of the World to live again!” He snatched up a knife from the table in front of him, and plunged it deep into the wood with a rapturous exhalation.
Around the table, others picked up the knives laid out for them: the Shade, with a small shrug; the Fiddler, with a palsied effort; Ragdoll, Icicle and Tigress, all without hesitation. Solomon Grundy growled his assent.
The only hold-out was the Monocle.
They all stared at him, as he calmly drained the last of his champagne and got wearily to his feet.
“My friends, I must decline this invitation.” He told them, pushing in his chair, not meeting their eyes. “I have not the immortality of William or Dickie, the youth of our new associates, nor the desire for revenge that burns within Grundy and Isaac,” He put his hand on the shoulder of the Fiddler. “I am old, and my last ambition is to live out my days amidst my books and my garden. Farewell, and good luck.”
He walked slowly to the door, no one else saying a word.
Before he got to the ornate carved wooden doors, his steps slowed. A chill seemed to fill the room, and even the Icicle shivered. The little hairs prickled on Tigress’s arm, and she stared in growing horror at the Monocle.
Cheval halted in his tracks, his hands going to his chest. The monocle fell from his eye, and he sank to his knees onto the thick carpet, gasping. Before him materialized a spectral figure in white, dressed in elegant clothes of centuries past…
“Welcome, Craddock.” The Wizard’s voice broke the stunned silence. “Glad you could make it.”
With a last strangled breath, Jonathan Cheval fell dead, his frail heart burst, at the feet of the Gentleman Ghost.
“Anybody else want to leave?” Intoned the Ghost in a hollow, rattling voice.
No one spoke.
The Wizard raised a clenched fist and a smile twisted his thin lips. “This time, there will be no stopping us.” He hissed. “We will destroy the Justice Society of America!”