Seven Soldiers of Victory #1

1941...

The brownstone looked no different from any of the others in New York City, which, Tom Hallaway supposed, is why they’d chosen to set up shop there. Who would suspect that such an ordinary building housed a gang of dope peddlers? Just me, I guess, he thought as stood across the street from it, his dark costume helping him blend into the shadows of an alley. He’d been trying for months to track down the source of the drugs tainting his old neighborhood, but most of the trails led to dead ends, and it didn’t help that the police in the area seemed blind to the problem. So he stepped up his methods, put the screws on a few lowlifes a bit tighter than before, and finally one of them gave up a name. A name that led him to this address.

And now here he was, getting ready to bust in the door and shut them down. He was glad that the neighborhood was quiet that night, he wouldn’t have to worry about innocent bystanders if there was gunplay. Not that he was fond of the reason why it was so quiet: the Japs had bombed Pearl Harbor a scant three days ago, and everyone was in their houses with the lights turned low, clustered around their radios and hoping that no further attacks came. After years of standing on the sidelines, America was being dragged into Europe’s war, and Hallaway didn’t like it. He saw the whole thing as one more distraction from the problems at home, which made it doubly good that New York had a man like him to take care of those problems. There’s only so much one man can do, though, he thought, then pushed it away -- that was the sort of thinking that let the lowlifes flourish, and he certainly wasn’t about to let that happen. “Enough stalling,” he muttered, then took up his bow and nocked an arrow. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Reckon that’s a fine idea,” a voice behind him said, “only I ain’t never been one for archery exhibitions.” Hallway whirled around, expecting to see one of the criminals he was after, but instead he came face-to-face with...a cowboy? He blinked and shook his head, but the image remained: a man in a royal-blue shirt and white cowboy hat, with a red bandana tied over his face and sixguns drawn. “Now, y’all want to have a good ol’-fashioned shootin’ match,” the cowboy continued, “and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

“Who the Hell are you?” Hallaway asked, not lowering his bow.

“Name’s Vigilante.” He touched the brim of his hat with one of his gunbarrels, then used it to gesture towards the brownstone. “Seems you got some business with them fellas over yonder.”

“Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t. You here to stop me?”

“Not hardly. I was hopin’ to join you.”

“Well, then, maybe we should make it a trio.” A third man stepped forward, dressed in a red cloak draped over a dark three-piece suit, topped off with a mask and fedora. “How you been, Vig?” he said, nodding at the cowboy.

“Ain’t complainin’. Yourself?”

“The same.” The masked man turned to Hallaway, saying, “Sorry about that, we’ve known each other for a while.” He then held out a hand. “Crimson Avenger.”

“You can call me the Spider,” Hallaway answered. He finally lowered his bow and shook Crimson’s hand. “I’ve heard your name before...isn’t this a bit small-time for a big hero like you?”

“You consider murdering a retired linguistics professor to be ‘small-time’?”

Hallaway, alias the Spider, cocked an eyebrow. “I think you’ve got the wrong place. These guys are dopers.”

“Funny,” Vigilante mused, “I hear-tell that they’ve been blackmailin’ city officials. Either we’ve all been fed a line, or these fellas are awful busy.”

“Only one way to find out for sure,” Crimson said as he looked across the street at the unassuming building, “and that’s to go in there.”

“I reckon that’s what our new friend here was about to do.” Vig waved one of his guns in a shooing gesture. “Lead the way, Spider Man.”

“‘Spider’. It’s just ‘the Spider’.”

“What’s the dif’rence?”

“‘Spider Man’ just sounds silly. You don’t go around calling yourself ‘Vigilante Man’, do you?”

“Can we save this for after we’ve captured the bad guys?” Crimson Avenger stepped past them and into the street, drawing his own guns as he did so. He’d seen no one at the windows, but he still expected some sort of opposition as he ran to the front door and threw himself at it shoulder-first. The lock snapped easily, taking some of the doorframe with it, and Crimson immediately pressed his back to the wall beside the door. He swept his guns across the room, but it was a pointless gesture: it didn't look like anyone had been in the building for years. He cursed under his breath and lowered his weapons, only to bring them back up when Spider and Vigilante ran in. “Forget it, there’s nothing here,” he told them.

Spider stared at the rundown, dusty interior. “That's impossible, I followed one of the dopers to this place. He walked through the door you just broke down no more than a half-hour ago.”

“Maybe he knew you was followin’ him, so he ducked in here and walked out the back to throw you off," Vig suggested.

“That doesn’t explain the leads you and I got, though,” Crimson said. “There must be more to this place than..." He stopped, looking down at the floorboards. “Step back a little, Vig.”

“You got something, friend?”

“Yeah, something that a cowpoke like you should’ve thought of: when you’re trailing a bandit, always check for tracks.” He pointed down at a faint set of footprints, leading away from the door and to a room off to the left of the main hallway.

“Out of the way.” Spider elbowed past the two of them, bow raised, and entered the room. It appeared to be a study, though long-abandoned, with cobwebs hanging from the bookshelves and a cold, dark fireplace on one wall. Oddly enough, the footprints led right up to the side of the fireplace and stopped, the dust in front of it looking like something had been dragged in a sweeping arc in front of it. “Hmph…how cliché can you get?” he muttered, and ran his fingers along the edges of the fireplace until he heard something click, and the entire fixture began to swing aside, revealing a set of stairs leading downward. He turned to his companions, who now stood directly behind him. “Well, this definitely isn’t looking small-time anymore,” Spider said.

Crimson glanced down the stairs. “It looks pretty narrow. We’ll have to take this single-file…who wants to jump down the rabbit hole first?”

“I got it.” Spider took the lead once again, all but racing down the steps and leaving the two gunmen behind.

Vigilante shook his head. “Fella’s either got a lot of guts or no brains.” He started down after him, saying to Crimson, “Let’s catch up before he gets himself killed.” Luckily, their new friend hadn’t gotten far. The stairs ended inside a long tunnel leading off to the east (as best as they could figure underground), and Spider was still within sight, his shadow stretching out beneath the naked bulbs affixed to the tunnel’s ceiling every fifteen feet or so. “Hey, slow down!” Vig called out, and ran up to the archer to close the distance. “We ain’t got a clue what’s down here, so until we do, we stick together, no chargin’ in blindly.”

“I didn’t hear you objecting when he did the same thing upstairs,” Spider said, nodding his head towards the Crimson Avenger.

“That’s because I know him, and I know what he can handle. For all I know, this is your first night runnin’ around in longjohns.” Vig raised his eyebrows. “Please tell me it’s not.”

Spider frowned, looking as if he wasn’t about to answer, then said quietly, “I’ve got six months in.” He then added in his defense, “But I’ve taken down a lot of crooks in that time, so don’t go thinking that I’m inexperienced.”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” Crimson said as he caught up with them, “but we all need to stick together, no matter how much time we’ve got in. Obviously, this is not what any of us expected to find.” He looked down the tunnel. “I just wonder how far this thing goes.”

“As you said before, there’s only one way to find out.” Spider began to head down the tunnel again, then stopped and looked back at the others, saying, “Unless somebody else wants to take the lead this time.”

Crimson smiled and waved him ahead. “Be my guest.” He and the Vigilante flanked the archer as they made their way down the tunnel, hoping to find some clue as to what dangers may lay ahead, but they found nothing but featureless concrete. After a while, the tunnel began to widen until it split into two more passageways, neither one giving a hint as to where they led.

“Well now,” Vigilante said, tipping back his hat, “ain’t this a fine predicament.” He walked to the mouth of one passage, then the other, pausing to listen at each one, but he heard nothing. “Anybody got a coin we can flip?”

Spider stepped forward to take a look himself. “I think maybe it’s time to break up this little party. Strength in numbers is all well and good, but…”

Vig suddenly held up a hand, then pointed down the right-hand passage. “Wait, I hear something,” he whispered. The two other men came up beside him. After a moment, they each could hear the faint echo of voices. Crimson motioned to either side of the entrance, and they took position, the Spider and Crimson Avenger on one side, and the Vigilante on the other, all with weapons at the ready.

The voices came closer, growing more distinct. There seemed to be three people in their group as well, but the voice of one in particular took them by surprise. “That sounds like a kid,” Spider mouthed to Crimson. The other man simply shrugged, focusing his attention more on the words than whom was speaking them:

“Looks like we might be reaching the end of this.”

“Aye. We can only hope that the answers we seek lay ahead.”

“Or at least a place to sit down. I don’t think I can take this hiking much longer.”

“C’mon, Kid, it’s good for the leg muscles.”

Moments later, the first of the figures stepped out of the tunnel: a burly, red-haired man in a striped shirt. He was immediately followed by a teenaged boy in a skintight blue costume covered in white stars. The man looked about and began to say, “Looks like we might have to split up,” then caught a glimpse of the heroes out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around and shouted, “We’ve got company!”

“We was just thinkin’ the same,” Vigilante said, raising his guns, then stopped as a sword swung up from his right and pressed hard beneath his chin. He looked over to see the third newcomer standing at the mouth of the tunnel, clad in golden chain mail and a red tunic.

“‘Twould be well-advised to put away thy weapons, knave,” the knight said in a smooth English accent, “lest I have to be more firm with thee.”

“Drop the pig-sticker, golden boy!” Spider raised his bow, but soon dropped his own weapon with a yelp as a bolt of energy zapped it from his hands. He looked in the direction the bolt had come from, and saw the boy in blue looking back at him, a smirk on his face and a wisp of bluish smoke coming off his fingers.

Crimson turned his pistols towards the redheaded man, saying, “So, what sort of tricks do you have up your sleeve?”

“Just a really mean right hook.” The man cracked his knuckles. “Wanna see?”

In reply, Crimson cocked back the hammers on his guns.

“Whoa, everybody simmer down now.” Vig slowly dropped his own guns into their holsters, then held up his bare hands. “Something tells me these ain’t the owlhoots we’re lookin’ for.”

“I think he’s right,” Spider said, rubbing his sore hand. “These guys we’re after seem like they want to be as inconspicuous as possible.” He nodded towards the boy. “Hard to do that when you look like an astronomer’s nightmare.”

“Hey, I have no problem with giving you another jolt, mister.”

“Easy, Kid.” The man put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, then turned to the knight. “You too, Sir Justin. I’d say these three are trustworthy.”

The knight hesitated, then lowered his sword and took a step away from Vigilante. “My apologies,” he said, bowing slightly. “Sir Justin, the Shining Knight, at thy service.”

“And I’m the Vigilante, at…um, at thee’s, I guess.” He gestured to his companions. “This here’s the Spider, and my fellow pistoleer’s the Crimson Avenger.”

The redheaded man stepped forward and shook hands with Crimson, who’d also holstered his guns. “You can call us the Star-Spangled Kid and Stripe…I’ll let you figure out which is which,” he said. “So, how did you guys end up in this maze?”

The three men each explained about the leads that had brought them to the abandoned brownstone, and the man called Stripe nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like what we ran into. The Kid and I had tracked some stolen military goods to a rundown warehouse when we spotted Shining Knight here flying by on his horse.”

Vigilante looked at Sir Justin, eyes wide. “Y’all got a flyin’ horse?”

“Winged Victory is the finest steed in the world,” he said with a measure of pride.

“Hell, when all this is over, you’ve gotta show him to me.”

“Anyways,” Stripe continued, obviously annoyed, “turned out that he was looking for stolen goods as well, but these were artifacts from the Museum of Natural History. We joined up in searching the warehouse, and while we didn’t find what we were looking for, we did find a hidden entrance to whatever the Hell this is supposed to be.” He gestured to the tunnel around them. “There were some other branches, but they only led to empty shells of buildings and whatnot...sort of like that brownstone you described.”

“None of this is adding up,” Crimson muttered. “Thefts, drugs, blackmail, murder...five different criminal trails that have no obvious connection, but these tunnels say otherwise. I don’t know what exactly we’ve all stumbled upon here, but it’s getting bigger, and possibly more dangerous, by the minute.”

“You’re not suggesting we back out now?” Stripe waved a hand at the assembled group. “I’d say that the six of us can handle just about anything these crooks throw at us...assuming we ever find out where they’re holed up.”

“Well, we’ll never find them if we keep standing around talking,” Spider said, and pointed toward the remaining passageway. “Let’s get moving, and save the questions for the first one of these bastards we find.”

“I agree with the archer: now is the time for deeds, not words,” Shining Knight said. “If I may be so bold, ‘twould seem wisest if I lead the way -- should we chance across any gunmen, no bullet can pierce the mail I wear.”

“Smart idea. Vig and I will flank you,” Crimson replied, “with Stripe and Star-Spangled Kid behind us, and Spider can cover the rear.”

“Hey, why am I getting shoved all the way to the back?” Spider said.

“‘Tis common for archers to fire from the rear, so as to provide clear passage for the foot soldiers.” The knight nodded to Crimson Avenger as they began their trek down the tunnel. “It pleases me to know that some people in this century remember proper battlefield formation.”

He nodded back, thinking, ‘This century’? Somebody’s taking their gimmick a bit too seriously. But he held his tongue as the group made their way further into unknown territory. As with the other branches, there were no markings to be found, no hint as to where they were going. When they did finally hit upon something different, it wasn’t encouraging: the overhead lights, which had been hanging at regular intervals, suddenly stopped, leaving the passage before them in total darkness. “Great,” Crimson said, “did anyone remember to bring a flashlight?”

“Don’t need one.” Star-Spangled Kid stepped forward into the darkness, one hand raised up and the other fiddling with something on the metallic red belt he wore. After a moment, a soft, steady glow began to emanate from his upraised hand, just enough to outline the surrounding walls...which they quickly noticed were no longer made of concrete. “Looks like granite,” the Kid said, and cautiously reached out to touch the wall with his other hand. “Did they carve into the bedrock under the city?”

“They couldn’t have,” Stripe answered, “we didn’t go down that far.”

Spider took the tip of one of his arrows and stuck it into a crack, prying a chunk of stone loose. “It’s thick, but it’s only a facade. See? Just more concrete.” He shook his head. “Why go to all this trouble to dress up an underground tunnel?”

“I believe I have found the answer,” Shining Knight said. He was standing at the far end of the dark tunnel, the gold sheen of his armor barely visible. “This way, my friends...but extinguish thy light, squire, lest they take notice.” The Kid did so, and as they all came forward to where Sir Justin stood, they realized that the tunnel curved to the right, and a faint light could be seen once they’d advanced around the corner. They also heard what sounded like a low hum.

“What is that? Machinery?” Stripe whispered.

Sir Justin shook his head, and put a finger to his lips before advancing, sword drawn. The others followed, single-file, until they saw the wall on their left drop away, replaced by thick granite pillars -- the light grew stronger as it poured through the spaces between them. Without a word, they all crouched down and crept up to the pillars, and found themselves looking down upon a large circular chamber lit by torches, and filled with nearly a hundred people in smoky gray hooded robes, all humming a single note. Many of them swayed in place, as if in a trance. The six heroes stared in disbelief -- this looked more like something out of a Saturday matinee serial than a crime ring -- then Spider tapped Crimson Avenger on the arm and pointed at one of the robed figures, whispering, “There...I can’t see his face too well, but I think that’s the guy I followed.”

“So we’ve got the right place,” he replied, “but what sort of place is it?”

As if in answer to his query, a man stepped out of one of the archways ringing the room below. Like the others, his face was obscured by a hooded robe, but his garments were black, and his hands were covered by thick metal gauntlets. He stepped up onto a raised stone platform and stood before the throng for a moment, then raised his hands, and the hum came to abrupt end. “My disciples,” he said, “our time has come. You have all worked very hard to bring our great plan to fruition, and finally, all the pieces have fallen into place. Starting tonight, the shadow of the Iron Hand shall sweep over this country, bringing with it the chaos our Master craves. Praise Neh Buh Lah!”

“Praise Neh Buh Lah!” the crowd echoed, the force of their voices making the torches tremble.

“And once America has been crippled, and our numbers strengthened by those wise enough to convert, we shall move on to Europe, and our Master shall sup upon the feast of death and mayhem already laid out before him there. Praise Neh Buh Lah!”

“Praise Neh Buh Lah!”

“And then...and then, my disciples, the rest of the world will have no choice but to bow down and offer their riches up to us, the chosen few. We shall live like princes in this new world, for our Master will be grateful for the chaos we sowed in his name. Praise Neh Buh Lah! Praise him and live forever!”

The chant went up again, over and over, to the point where it was almost deafening. The heroes backed away from the pillars in an effort to escape the cacophony. Once they’d retreated far enough to hear each other again, Crimson Avenger said, “Gentlemen, we’ve got a problem.”

“I’ll say,” Stripe replied. “All that military ordnance they took will go a long way towards ‘bringing chaos’, don’tcha think?” His young partner nodded assent.

“So will the drugs they were passing around in my neighborhood,” Spider added. “Nothing like having hundreds of doped-up folks at your beck and call when you want to bring a city to its knees.”

“Not to mention half of City Hall, thanks to all them folks they’re blackmailin.” Vigilante’s brow furrowed. “But what’s the deal with this ‘nebula’ stuff these jaspers are yellin’? Isn’t a nebula like a star or something?”

“Actually, it’s more like...” Crimson started to say, then held up a hand. “Hold that thought, I think the second act’s about to start.” The rest of them soon realized what he meant: the chanting had stopped. They scrambled back to the pillars just as the man began to speak once more, his gauntleted hands held out as if to bless the crowd.

“Before we can begin our great plan, however, we must bring our Master forward, so he may bask in the chaos while it is still ripe, and draw strength from it so that he may become whole.” With that, seven new figures emerged from the archways below. Each one was dressed in black robes decorated with what appeared to be small white jewels -- whether actual diamonds or just paste, it was impossible to tell -- it made the newcomers look like they were wrapped in the night sky. They formed a line on the platform and faced the crowd. “Bless these disciples,” the man in black continued, “chosen from among you to bear our Master into this world. Their flesh shall become his as they accept the ultimate glory and become part of Neh Buh Lah, The Seven As One!”

A new chant began, a strange guttural noise unlike any language the unseen heroes knew, and another figure appeared, carrying a tray upon which seven ornate daggers had been arranged -- he stepped up to the seven “chosen ones”, who each took one of the daggers and held it over their heart. Shining Knight tensed, saying to his companions, “Those are the stolen artifacts I was seeking...and ‘twould be a safe bet, my crimson friend, that thy professor may have been murdered for knowing too much about the words they utter now. Very dark magicks are in play below us, of that I am sure.”

Star-Spangled Kid’s eyes were wide behind his mask. “They don’t really think killing themselves will summon up a demon or whatever this ‘nebula’ thing is, do they?”

“In my time, such things were a very common occurrence, though the modern world dismisses magic as mere chicanery,” the knight replied. “I know not the name of this creature they speak of, but judging by what we have witnessed so far, it cannot be of a goodly nature. If we do not stop them now, we may never get another chance.”

“Well then, let’s quit talking about it and do something.” Spider began to stand, taking aim at the presumed leader. Before he could let the first arrow fly, however, something else disrupted the ceremony: a spurt of flame came roaring out of one of the passageways below, scorching two of the participants. They howled and beat at their robes in an effort to extinguish the sudden blaze, but to no avail. More flames soon followed, along with the source of the conflagration: a masked auburn-haired young lady, clad in pink and red, flew into the chamber, leaving a fiery trail in her wake.

“There goes the element of surprise,” Vigilante said, and uncoiled the lasso looped around his shoulder. “Let’s get down there before that little firebrand takes away all our fun!” With that, he tossed one end of the rope around an overhang at the far side of the chamber, then jumped out into the open air with a whoop and a holler, knocking down a group of robed figures like bowling pins as he swung by. Shining Knight quickly followed, letting out a war cry of his own as he dove into the fray, sword held high. Star-Spangled Kid and Stripe simply nodded to each other before joining them, the older man landing on top of an unsuspecting worshipper, while his young partner simply tapped his belt and flew down with a nimbus of cosmic energy surrounding him.

Spider and Crimson Avenger looked at each other for a moment, then Hallaway smiled and waved towards the ensuing battle, saying, “Be my guest.”

“Oh, so now you don’t want to be out in front.” Crimson jumped down to join his companions, while the Spider stayed topside and picked off targets from his perch.

Though briefly stunned by the sudden appearance of the heroes, the man in black soon recovered himself and shouted, “Stop them, my disciples! Nothing can stay the might of the Iron Hand!” None of the robed figures appeared to be armed, save for the participants in the ritual, but that didn’t deter them from following their leader’s wishes, and the heroes soon found themselves overwhelmed by the sheer number of people willing to tear them apart. Gunshots rang out from Vig and Crimson, and the figures surrounding them dropped away. Shining Knight’s sword never seemed to stop as he tried to cut his way across the chamber to where the man in black stood. Stripe merely barreled through them, knocking his opponents down with one haymaker after another.

In the air above them, the Star-Spangled Kid flew up beside the fiery newcomer, saying to her, “Where the heck did you come from?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, we’ve got to try and keep these guys trapped in here. We’ll never find them all if they manage to get into those corridors.” Nodding in agreement, the Kid helped the young lady guard the passageways, he with bolts of energy and she with curtains of flame.

With a shout, Shining Knight broke free of the mass of robed figures and leapt onto the platform, knocking aside one of the knife-wielding disciples that ran at him. He advanced on their ebony-garbed leader, sword at the ready, and said, “Whatever foul plan thou had in mind is over, sirrah. Surrender now, and I shall show thee mercy...though I doubt thou art deserving of it.”

A hoarse chuckle could be heard from beneath the black hood. “Surrender? The Iron Hand shall never surrender, especially not to the likes of you!” He suddenly reached out with his gauntleted hands, grabbing Sir Justin’s shoulder in one and the sword in the other. The moment contact was made, a crackle of electricity emanated from the gauntlets, ripping through the knight’s body until he collapsed. The man in black still held the sword, and he positioned the tip of the weapon in between the prone hero’s shoulderblades. “And now, I will show you what I think of your ‘mercy’!” he said, and made to drive the sword home, but he soon found himself engulfed in flames as the young woman swooped down, tears in her eyes.

“I won’t let you kill anyone else!” she shouted at him as the flames grew higher. “Haven’t you shed enough blood? Wasn’t my brother enough?”

“Lady, quit it, you’re gonna barbeque him!” Stripe jumped up on the platform and managed to grab her foot, yanking her down towards him -- it was enough of a distraction to make her stop, but he got his hand scorched for his trouble. That was nothing compared to her object of her anger: the man in black howled in pain, the fire eating away at his thick robes. He dropped the sword and ran for the passageway he’d originally entered through -- Spider loosed a volley of arrows in his direction, and Star-Spangled Kid tried to collapse the mouth of the passage with an energy bolt before he could reach it, but nothing slowed him down.

“We need to go after him before he gets outside,” the young lady said, and tried to pull away from Stripe, but he held on fast.

“We’ll get him, but you’re staying here for now.” Stripe turned towards Crimson Avenger and Vigilante, who were making their way to the platform -- opposition had begun to drop sharply once half of the worshippers had been knocked out or injured, and those remaining were more concerned with getting out alive now that their leader had fled. “I’ve got a take-out order for one french-fried bad guy, who wants to deliver it?”

“You’d better go, Vig, I’m almost out of ammo,” Crimson said. The cowboy nodded and ran for the passageway, Star-Spangled Kid flying behind for backup. “Is he okay?” Crimson asked as he knelt beside the unmoving knight, turning him over -- the golden helm he wore had come off when he collapsed, and locks of blonde hair peeked out from beneath his chain mail hood. “Can you hear me, Sir Justin? Say something.”

He groaned, then said, “Zounds...‘twould be better to face a dozen Blunderbores than to feel that sting again...”

“I don’t know what that means, but at least you’re talking.” Crimson helped Shining Knight sit up, then looked over at Stripe. “So, who’s the girl?”

“M-my name’s Danette...Danette Reilly,” she said quietly, and removed her mask. “I’m sorry if I let myself get out of control, but after what he did to my brother Rod...”

“Reilly? Your brother’s Rod Reilly, of Reilly Steel?” Stripe asked, and she nodded. “I’ve heard of the guy...of course, I also heard he committed suicide a couple days ago after declaring bankruptcy.”

“It wasn’t suicide, it was him! It was the Iron Hand!” Fresh tears started to flow as she said, “I’d been in Hawaii for the last few months, so I hadn’t seen him for a while...if it hadn’t been for my accident, and coming home to recuperate, I wouldn’t have ever known...” Danette paused, twisting the mask in her hands. “Rod was always looking for excitement, for something to break up his mundane life, and I guess that’s what the Iron Hand offered him: excitement. And all he had to give the Iron Hand in return was...everything. Every penny he had, every stock option in the company our father built...even his own life.”

“It makes sense,” Spider said as he came up to platform -- his quiver had run dry, and the chamber was clear of active troublemakers. “This hideout, the resources to make those drugs...you can only steal so much. Sooner or later, you have to get a steady source of income to finance something this big.”

“I don’t think Rod completely knew what was going on, but he knew enough to scare them,” she said. “Maybe they thought he’d tell somebody where all the money went when the bankruptcy proceedings started, I don’t know. Whatever the reason, they broke into the house while I was out and they...they shot him, tried to make it look like a suicide. By the time I got home, he was nearly dead...but Rod managed to hang on long enough to tell me about them. The police refused to believe a word of it, and I had to do something, so...”

“You did something, all right,” Stripe said. “I don’t know how you did it, but...” He stopped when he saw Star-Spangled Kid and Vigilante emerge from the passageway. “Where’s that ‘Iron Hand’ guy? Did you get him?”

“We chased after him as long as we could,” the Kid answered, “but it’s like a maze back there, with a bunch of twists and dead ends. All we found of him was this.” He gestured to a bundle the cowboy was carrying, which he laid down on the platform: the charred remains of the Iron Hand’s black robe, along with his metal gauntlets, wires running out of them to a small battery pack that supplied the electrical jolt the villain gave Shining Knight. “He must’ve ditched his stuff, then slipped out through a hidden door somewhere. I’m sorry, guys, but whoever the Iron Hand was, he’s long gone now.”





The sun was just starting to come up over New York City, but there was already a flurry of activity in the streets below. From an unassuming brownstone, police brought out dozens of the Iron Hand’s men, many of them walking, others on stretchers. It would be days before they managed to comb through the entire complex beneath the city, and even then, the truth of what occurred down there might never be known. For an overworked police force, that mattered very little, but for the seven people who watched the scene from a nearby rooftop, the events of the past night weighed very heavily on their minds.

“Do you think they really could have done it?” Star-Spangled Kid asked. “Do you think they had a chance at overthrowing the city?”

Stripe shrugged. “They seemed zealous enough. At the very least, they probably would’ve hurt a lot of people before they could be put down.”

“They already did hurt a lot of people,” Spider reminded them as he crouched on the edge of the roof. “What ticks me off is that they got away with it for so long...and now that we’re getting into the damn war overseas, it’s just gonna make things even easier for crazies like them.”

“He’s got a point,” Crimson Avenger said. “I’ve already heard that the Justice Society’s gearing up for the fight over there, which means there’ll be less heroes to keep an eye on things over here.”

“Then it shall be our duty to watch over this land ‘til they return,” Shining Knight said, to which they all turned to look at him. “The battle in Europe is of great import, but so is safeguarding the lives and property of those who remain behind. What value is there in winning this war if the victors have no home or loved ones to return to?”

Vigilante cocked an eyebrow. “What’re you suggestin’? That the seven of us protect the whole damn country by ourselves?”

“Not merely us, of course: there shall still be the proper authorities,” he answered, gesturing to the policemen below, “and I am sure the Justice Society shall not desert their posts completely. But there will be the unseen threats such as we faced tonight, and they will only grow in number now that all eyes are focused overseas. There is also the possibility that the Iron Hand may surface again, perhaps with renewed intent at bringing forth that ‘nebula’ creature.”

Spider glanced over at Vigilante, saying under his breath, “Nebula Man.” The cowboy’s bandana hid his grin.

“Should that happen, we must be ready to stop him, as well as any others who may try and take advantage of these perilous times. Though I do not profess to know what this war may bring for each of us, there will surely come times when one of us needs to call upon others of our ilk...and I would be proud to stand by any of thee when that time comes.” With that, Sir Justin drew his sword and held it out, the tip pointing downward. “When I first took up this sword, I swore an oath of fealty to my king and country, and though both have long passed from this realm, I still hold those words close to my heart, and live by them always. ‘Twould be an honor to speak them with thee, to serve as a bond between us, and to our common cause.”

A silence fell over those gathered, then Crimson Avenger stepped forward and laid his right hand over the pommel of Sir Justin’s sword, simply saying, “I’m in.”

“Count us in, too,” Star-Spangled Kid said, both he and Stripe laying on a hand.

“How can I say ‘no’ to a fella with a flyin’ horse?” Vig joked as he added his own hand to the pile, which was soon covered by Spider’s. The cowboy then looked over to Danette, who had been standing quietly by herself the whole time. “What about you, little lady? You’ve got an even bigger stake in this than the rest of us.”

“But I...I’ve only had these...these powers for a few weeks, I barely know what to do with them.” She gestured vaguely to the costume she wore. “I only put this on in case someone recognized me, I’m no hero.”

“Not so,” Shining Knight replied. “When thy brother was struck down and no one would help, thou risked thy own life to bring his killers to justice. That, milady, is true heroism.” He smiled at her. “And, if I may be so bold, ‘twas my good fortune tonight that thou were there to save me in my own time of need.”

Danette blushed slightly, then stepped over to join the others. Before she laid her hand down, however, she said, “I guess I’m gonna need a ‘mystery man’ name, huh?”

“I think Vig came up with a good one earlier tonight,” Stripe said. “Firebrand.”

“I like it...sounds good,” she said, smiling, and put her hand atop the six others.

“I shall say the oath once alone,” Shining Knight told them, “then all follow after me. And when thou speaks the words, speak them true, with thy heart and soul, for no oath should be entered into lightly.” He then took a deep breath and began:



They repeated the words when Sir Justin finished, their voices blending together until they sounded as one, their eyes focused upon their joined right hands touching the sword. Once the ritual was complete, the knight looked up at all of them and said, “From this day forward, we shall serve as the Law’s Legionnaires, always ready to answer the call of our brethren, no matter the hour, and always willing to march to wherever the battle may lay within our borders, no matter the danger...and woe be to the Iron Hand should he ever dare return, for we shall be waiting for him.”





It would be nearly a month before they saw each other again, coming together once more to aid Star-Spangled Kid and Stripe, who had uncovered an Axis plot in the heart of Manhattan. Though the fight began in the relative seclusion of New York’s subway system, it soon spilled out into the open, and the heroes found themselves under the scrutiny of the press while their foes were still being carted away by the police. No one in their group was interested in publicity, however, and they departed the scene after speaking minimally with reporters and putting up with a scant few flashbulbs popping in their faces. Perhaps it was this lack of information about themselves (along with the reds, whites, and blues dominant in most of their costumes) that inspired a field reporter for the Daily Star to hand in the story he did, touting the group as “the truest patriots this country could ask for: seven steadfast soldiers who ask for nothing more than the chance to help America attain victory.” And with that one offhand, propaganda-soaked line, the Law’s Legionnaires soon earned a new name, one which would eclipse their original moniker:

The Seven Soldiers of Victory.





2008...

Once upon a time, the place had been called Leong’s American. It wasn’t anything particularly fancy by New York standards, but it was well-known with a certain sort of clientele, the sort that sometimes likes to go out and be “normal” every once in a while, but would rather avoid the average “civilian” hangouts just in case something should happen. The owner, Daniel Leong, first opened it in 1968, after years of managing other people’s restaurants and making them lots of money. He’d had no intention of attracting the eclectic collection of folks that regularly attended his place, but considering that he was on friendly terms with many in that community, it was inevitable that they’d become his best customers. In fact, by the mid-seventies, the place had become so popular that he decided to branch out to other cities, choosing his locations from the suggestions made by the same people that made his business so successful to begin with. And when he did so, he changed the name of the original restaurant (along with all the ones that followed) to what most of his customers had called it since the day it opened: Stuff’s.

Four decades and nearly twenty franchises later, the original New York location was still going strong. Any time you dropped by, you could expect to see it at least half-full, be it day or night -- even on Christmas, they operated with a skeleton crew for the benefit of those patrons who may be working themselves on that holiday. But on one particular day every year, Stuff’s would close its doors to the public, admitting only a select few people for a special get-together. This year, the turnout was smaller than normal, with only eight of those invited attending, but it was still a stellar showing: Alan Scott, Dinah Lance, Al Pratt, Jay Garrick, Charles McNider, Jon Law, Speed Saunders, and Ted Grant...some of the best the Golden Age of Heroes had to offer, and Daniel Leong was proud to count them as friends.

They were gathered around a large banquet table, which had been laid out with the finest dishes to ever come out of the kitchen. The usual staff were not present today, however, Daniel himself having worked since six that morning to get things ready. Though his seventy-fifth birthday was creeping up on him, and his son kept pestering him about slowing down, Daniel Leong had no desire to -- he knew he wasn’t the sort of guy that would be happy puttering around the house or playing golf or whatever it was that old geezers were supposed to do when they were “enjoying their golden years.” He liked to get his hands dirty at the restaurant whenever he could, and there were nights when you could look into the kitchen and see the old man sweating over the grill, showing kids a third his age the proper way to do things. For now, though, the work was over, and Daniel had settled in at the head of the table, watching the members of the Justice Society as they talked about old friends long gone.

“So he shows up at Ted Knight’s house with these blueprints tucked under his arm,” Jay was telling the others in between bites of his steak, “and he just walks straight into the living room and sits down. No ‘Hello’ or ‘How you been?’ or anything, he just goes in there and starts laying the blueprints out on the coffee table. Now, I’d only known Pat and Sylvester for maybe two months by then, so I had no clue if he had a tendency to show up on Ted’s doorstep unannounced or not...though judging by the look on Ted’s face, I’d say not. So Ted finally works up the nerve to ask what the Hell Pat’s doing here, and Pat looks up at us and says, ‘The Kid’s in the hospital, and I don’t want it to happen again.” So I say, ‘How do you expect to pull that off?’ And he just says, ‘I’ve got an idea.’”

McNider chuckled. “How many times did I hear Pat say that over the years? ‘I’ve got an idea.’ He always had an idea.”

“Yeah, but they were always good ideas. Not always feasible, but good.” Everyone at the table laughed at that, and Jay continued, “And this one was good too: he’d taken the basic principle of Ted’s cosmic rod and adapted it so that it would augment Sylvester’s strength instead of just being a point-and-shoot sort of weapon. He only had a rough idea of how to do it, but he knew what he wanted. It was just a matter of smoothing out the bumps.” He shook his head. “Pat was a technical genius. The things he came up with back then...can you imagine what he could’ve done with the tech we’ve got today? He’d be a millionaire on patents alone.”

“And then I’d hustle him out of every last dime in one game of pool,” Ted Grant added with a smile, which started another wave of laughter.

“Now you know if you even tried something like that, they would’ve all jumped you,” Jon Law told him. “You messed with one, they all came running.”

Speed Saunders took a sip of his drink, then said, “I remember Greg telling me once about these guys who got the drop on him. Gun-runners or something like that, I dunno, doesn’t matter. They beat the holy Hell out of him, I mean just black-and-blue all over, and right when he thinks he’s done for, in busts Danette and Justin. The two of them clean house, and when it’s all over, Greg looks at them and says, ‘What’s this, I only rate two Soldiers today?’”

Pratt got a wistful look on his face. “Did I ever tell you guys I had a crush on Danette for a while?”

“I think every guy in the All-Star Squadron had his eye on one of us girls at one time or another,” Dinah said. “I know I caught more than one of you looking hard at me over the years.”

“It was the fishnets,” Grant said. “Personally, I knew better than to give Danette the big eye, what with Justin carrying that big honkin’ sword all the time.” He grinned at Pratt. “If he’d caught you, he would’ve given new meaning to the phrase ‘splitting the atom’.”

As the old heroes continued to reminisce, Alan Scott leaned over to Daniel, who was seated next to him. “Everything all right there, Dan? You been kind of quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m just...I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About them.”

“Well, that’s not surprising, at least not today.”

“No, it’s not just the day.” Daniel shook his head, saying, “It started a few months back, when you and the JSA had that fight over at the museum. I saw part of it on TV, and it just...it made me start thinking about them, and about...the other fight.” The man swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. “You’d think by now it wouldn’t bother me, but it does. After sixty years, I think about what happened and I still...I should have done something, Alan. If I had, they might still be here.”

“There’s nothing you could have done, Dan,” he replied. “They made their decision, all of them. Nobody said this was an easy job.”

“I know, but...why did they have to die when all the rest of you got to live?” He looked at Alan, at the face that appeared so much younger than his own, even though Alan Scott, as well as everyone else at that table, was at least twenty years older than him. “Nearly every member of the Justice Society is still here, but not one of the Soldiers made it this far. It’s just not fair.” The tears started to come after that. Alan went to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Daniel shrugged it off. A terrible silence fell over the room, no one feeling it right to speak at that moment. Then Daniel removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, saying, “I’m sorry, I...I need some time alone. Just go on eating.” He pushed away from the table and went into the back room of the restaurant.

Speed got up before anybody else had the chance. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” he said, and followed after him. He found Daniel in his office, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, the CD player on the nearby filing cabinet playing a country ballad. Speed stood there for a minute, head cocked, then said, “I don’t remember this one.”

“‘Lonesome Prairie Wind’,” Daniel told him without opening his eyes. “WGBS Variety Hour, March 14th, 1943...the first radio show I got to see him do.” The song came to an end, and the silence was quickly filled with applause, nearly drowning out the voice of Greg Saunders as he thanked the crowd. “You ever miss him, Speed?”

“Of course I do. I miss him just as much as I miss Sheira...but I don’t let it eat away at me, not like you do.”

“That’s because you weren’t there like I was,” Daniel said. Greg’s voice drifted out of the player again as he started a new song. Daniel sighed, saying, “I think about quitting this whole deal sometimes, just letting the day pass without so much as a toast to their memory.” He sat up in his chair and looked at the older man standing in the doorway -- like the others in the Justice Society, Speed Saunders was closing in on the century mark, but at least he looked his age. “But I can’t quit, because if I do, then it’ll be like their deaths never mattered at all.”

“Now you know that’s not true.”

“Yeah...but that doesn’t stop me from getting an ache in my heart whenever I consider it.” He glanced at his watch, then stood up. “I suppose we should start wrapping this party up. My flight leaves in a couple hours, and the traffic...”

Speed held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it. You go on out there, finish your meal, and I’ll talk some of the guys into helping me clean the place up. It’ll do these capes some good to wash a few dishes.”

Daniel gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, Uncle Speed.”





It was past sunset by the time Daniel left Philadelphia International Airport, thanks to all the security levels he had to navigate just to reach the rental car area. Despite the hassles, he still preferred to fly in rather than drive -- the New Jersey Turnpike could be a nightmare sometimes. Once he picked up the sedan reserved for him, it was off to the hotel to check in, then a trip at the florist to pick up his package, and then came the final stop on his itinerary. After sixty years, he had a good rhythm set up.

Christ Church Burial Ground stood at the corner of Arch and 5th Street in the heart of downtown Philadelphia. A historic landmark, direct access to the cemetery was limited to daylight hours, but there was nothing to prevent someone from approaching the locked iron gates at night, which was just what Daniel Leong did, a bouquet of seven white roses tucked in the crook of his arm. He knelt down in front of it, one hand clutching the ironwork for support, and placed the roses at the foot of the gates. He stayed down there for a minute with his eyes closed and head bowed, paying no mind to the cars passing by on the street behind him, then lifted his head and looked through the gate at the silent monuments beyond.

“Hi, guys,” he said quietly, “it’s me...sixty years and I haven’t missed it yet. Don’t know how much longer that’ll last, but...” Daniel paused, his eyes briefly flicking away, then he continued, “Let’s see, what’s happened since last year...Pemberton’s merger with Wayne Industries finally finished up. They’re not closing anything, but it looks like they won’t be keeping the Pemberton name up on any of the divisions...I’m sorry about that, Sylvester. This shouldn’t affect the memorial scholarship they set up with Yale, though.

“The museum’s got a new exhibit you’d love, Justin: the cultural history of Atlantis. They’ve got these artifacts on loan through the Atlantean Embassy...some of them would just take your breath away, they’re gorgeous. I took Danny on the first day it opened...hard to believe he’s going to be in high school soon, it seems like only yesterday his father...”

Another pause, longer than the last, as he leaned his head on the gate and started crying. “It’s not fair...it’s not...all these years you’ve been gone, and I...I’ve thought about telling them, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Do you know what that’s like, not being able to tell your family about this huge part of your life? Victor...Victor thinks I’m on a business trip right now! Every year, I lie to him, I lie to my son, just so I won’t have to explain...” Daniel sat up straight, wiping tears away. “Maybe I’ll tell him this year. When I get home, I’ll sit him down, and I’ll tell him. Sounds so damn simple, doesn’t it?” he said, and gazed out over the cemetery once again. “You’d think that after all the things I’ve seen, I wouldn’t be such a chickensh...”

The words suddenly died in his mouth as his eyes fixed on something at the far end of the cemetery. It appeared to be nothing at first, just another shadow cast by one of the markers, but as he watched, the shadow appeared to bubble slightly, then the bubbles became larger, more angular. A shadow on the side of a tombstone began to do the same thing, then one barely twenty feet from the gates started to bubble as well. Daniel was frozen, unable to even remove his hand from the gate, as he watched the one closest to him heave up something that looked like a clawed hand. It was black, blacker than the shadow that birthed it, the skin looking more like oil than flesh. The hand dug into the earth for purchase, pulling its misshapen bulk of a body out of the shadow with a ripping sound. Then it lay there, still bubbling as other limbs unfurled from the child-sized body: another arm, a leg...and a head with eyes as bright as stars, and a mouth full of razors.

“Oh dear God,” Daniel choked, “this isn’t happening.” He tried to get up, tried to let go of the iron gate, but his brain was in too much shock to relay the orders, even as the creature took notice of him and tried to get to its own feet. Its pitch-black body was still in a strange state of flux, however, and one leg was much shorter from the other. That didn’t stop it from staggering towards Daniel, gnashing its teeth and growling in an unearthly, guttural voice. Behind it, six other creatures were rising up, and all of them had their shining white eyes fixed on the old Chinese man at the gate. “This isn’t...you’re gone, they killed you,” Daniel said, his voice rising in panic. “They killed you! You’re just as dead as them!”

The lead creature lunged forward, slamming against the iron gate just as Daniel managed to get to his feet. He wheeled about, trying to avoid the slashing claws as it reached through the bars for him. It grabbed onto his overcoat, but Daniel ripped free, causing him to stumble into the street as a car passed by the cemetery. He tried to dodge, but to no avail: brakes locked, tires squealed, and Daniel flipped over the hood and crashed into the windshield, sliding off and hitting the pavement once the vehicle fully stopped. Other vehicles stopped as well, and Daniel could hear people shouting, calling for help, but he couldn’t respond, he could only lay there, staring up at the night sky through the shattered lenses of his glasses.

As a crowd gathered around the broken body of Daniel Leong, no one noticed seven small, humanlike figures slip over the walls of Christ Church Burial Ground, vanishing into the shadows like a bad dream.