#8: Lucky Number 7 (Walsh / Flinchum)

“Great Lords of Luck, this is miserable!” proclaimed the gaunt figure behind his large desk. He rested his high forehead in his hands and shook his head for a moment, then returned his gaze to the piles of folders, reports, records and more that surrounded him. He leaned back in the large, overstuffed leather chair and let out a long slow sigh. He plucked up the heavy glass of Scotch and sipped the liquid as he reviewed the work around him. “Why didn’t they warn me about all this damnable paperwork? Why can’t magic be really useful?”

He leaned forward and plucked up one folder and glanced at it. He flipped through the pages within, gave a weak, weary smile and then started to make entries into the computer at his side. “Okay, focus,” he muttered to himself as he worked away, sorting out debits and funds and appropriations among the dozens of charitable organizations his network had managed to sink its hooks into. He focused on the money pouring through them, and that helped to soothe his frazzled nerves as he worked through the afternoon.

“Mr. Sieben?” The intercom buzzed and shook the gaunt man from his work.

“What is it, Mrs. Kandless?”

“Mr. Exeter of the real estate department is here for his meeting,” she reported in that soft, silky voice that he so loved to hear. His smile stretched wide as he nodded at her sound.

“Excellent. Send him in, please,” he answered as he moved aside the pile of work he’d so recently completed. “And I have more filing for you, please.”

The doors to his office opened and a squat man in an ill-fitting blue suit stomped in, briefcase in his hand, unlit cigar in his mouth, and sour look on his face. He was followed by a plump, older woman. She wore a nice, if simple, pantsuit, and her weak, sea-green eyes looked at her boss from behind thick glasses that did nothing to hide the puffy face. This was a woman with a long life, a family that ran her hard, and she puffed hard as she shambled up to the desk and took the pile of paperwork.

“Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Sieben?” she asked and her sweet voice just made Sieben’s heart melt further as he closed his eyes for a moment, and relaxed.

“No thank you, Mrs. Kandless. I’ll buzz if I need something.” He flashed her that warm sweet smile and she nodded with a twinkle in her eyes before turning to head out. He turned to look at Wilson Exeter and his smile evaporated like moisture in a dry heat. “Well, Exeter?”

The grumpy man dumped himself into a chair and he popped open his briefcase. He pulled out the latest folder of papers as he angrily chewed at the end of his cigar. “Here. This is the last of it for your next phase, Mr. Sieben. All the red-line sites are up and operational as of two days ago, and the last of the black-mark sites is now locked into place.”

“And expansion opportunities, Exeter?”

“Again on track, sir,” the dour man grumbled as he pulled the cigar from his mouth. “Why the hell can’t I smoke?” He finally cracked and spat the words that had been burning at the back of his mind for months.

“Because, Exeter, this is a no-smoking building. You should know the prohibitions better than anyone. Why do I have to explain myself?”

“Because, dammit! You’re Doctor 7. We’re in the middle of a criminal operation, to make enough money to make Luthor or Wayne jealous! Using dark arts of sorcery! Why the Hell do we care if the city outlaws smoking?” He stood now, his face turning dark red.

“I don’t care what the city does. I do care about my lungs. No smoking, Exeter.”

“But...but you’re a...”

“A magician? Yes. When was the last time you saw someone go to a magician for a magic cure and not get disappointed? No smoking, Exeter. Deal with it. Expansion opportunities?”

“Yes, sir,” Exeter sighed as he jammed the unlit cigar back into his mouth and pulled out the next folder.

The Wild Blue Yonder

The jet screamed through the skies, trailing horrible black smoke in its wake, shards of metal peeling from the craft with terrifying regularity, spewing lethal debris over the countryside. People within screamed in horror as the crew struggled to bring the dying vehicle back into some semblance of control. No one expected to live through this though. Prayers of all types, offered up to all manner of Higher Powers, filled the air, while others tried to reach their loved ones through cell phones and BlackBerrys. Panic gripped the inside of the plane just as surely as destructive flames clutched the exterior, dragging it down to its doom.

“Dear God,” the pilot exclaimed as he watched the altimeter slow its wretchedly fast countdown to the ground, then come to a stop. “What...we’ve...we’re not crashing?”

You are, captain, came a voice inside his head, soothing and calm as it spoke to the centers of his brain producing the tide of fear. But we’re going to see that you all make it through safely. The voice was clear and strong in its pronouncement, and the captain smiled grimly as he focused on leading his crew back into the struggle to control the jet.

Below the belly of the decaying beast, the Manhunter from Mars clutched the metal with his hands, powerful shoulders bunched up as he strained to level the mass of metal. His hands burned, but he ignored it; his face was coated with bursts of acrid smoke, but his eyes maintained a laser focus on the field just a scant few miles ahead; he could perceive the licking flame so near his green form, and felt his heart pounding in response, but he remained true to his duty.

“I’m all good for the landing, J’onn,” Green Lantern reported as he hovered over the field, filled with green energy sculpted to resemble foam and bubbles as he watched the incoming craft. There was too much debris and Hal Jordan worried whether or not it would reach intact.

“Glad to hear it, Lantern,” Manhunter grunted as he helped the ruined controls of the jet direct the bulk toward its destination, his body straining as he continued to press on through the heat.

A second beam of green energy poured out from the emerald gladiator as Hal added over-sized parachutes to the rear of the craft as he quickly realized the jet still had too much speed. He furrowed his brow, felt a bead of sweat build up, joined by others as the first blazed a trail down the side of his face, forcing himself to maintain all his focus on the two massive energy constructs.

Everyone felt the sudden jolting of the crash. The screams grew louder, the looks on the heroes grew more fierce as the craft plowed hard into the crash site, chunks of verdant plasma and clods of dirt hurtled from the scene, mixed with more metallic debris. When the screaming and the roaring finally came to a stop, Hal Jordan realized he had to open his eyes to see the results.

Smoking, flickering flames, sparking cables...but as he tore open emergency hatches and formed escape chutes to add to the ones the flight crew were releasing, he realized there were no injuries. None. No one was so much as hurt.

“Unbelievable, isn’t it?” J’onn J’onzz asked as he floated up next to Green Lantern, wincing a bit, and wiping dirt from his powerful frame as they watched.

“Miraculous, I’d say,” Green Lantern answered. “We’ve been on a streak this past week, apparently.”

The Martian Manhunter merely put a hand to his chin and stroked thoughtfully as emergency workers flooded into the area. “Miraculous.”

Gotham City

“Mister Wayne, how could you? How could you? Explain yourself!”

The demanding voice belonged to a young woman of American Indian descent, and she currently glared at Gotham’s leading citizen, a strident march bringing her up quickly into his immediate presence before security guards moved to stand between them.

Her black eyes blazed with anger and betrayal, and her dark hair was bound up at the nape of her neck. She wore a nice white shirt under a brown business suit, though her collar lacked a tie, and her arms were bared. The insides of her forearms were laced with several Native American tattoos, though she lacked any other adornment. She pointed a finger accusingly at the well-dressed, business casual billionaire who regarded the lovely young woman who’d marched at him with fury in her stride.

“I think we’re okay, gentlemen,” Bruce said softly to the security guards. “I think I’m familiar with the young lady, and she’s not going to hurt me.” She growled and he leaned back a bit. “Well, perhaps not too badly. Not after we’ve talked, right? Dawn Makes Strong Move? That is who you are? I recognize the voice from our phone calls.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne. Nice to know you remember me, after you so obviously and blatantly forgot or ignored those talks!” she replied angrily.

Bruce turned and walked away from where they’d met, further into the construction site as he handed her a hard hat. “Miss Makes Strong Move, I’m...” he interrupted himself and smiled at her, that grand Bruce Wayne smile that warmed nearly every heart. “Can I call you Dawn? So much easier and pleasant. I’m Bruce.”

“Bruce. Well...okay. But that doesn’t mean I’m not angry and demanding answers.”

“About the casino deal, correct?” Bruce guessed as they walked along the length of the vacant patch of dirt near where the excavation had been completed and the foundation was prepared to be set in place.

“Yes. You promised, you promised, that your company would be backers for the local tribe,” she snapped back. “Of all the partners they looked at, that I interviewed for these people, yours had the best track record, both on deals and in regards to the city. Then I turn around, look back and boom! Some Monarch Entertainment is involved instead!”

Bruce listened, his face a mask of minimal concern as she spoke at him. “We haven’t completely lost interest,” he countered. “It’s still one of my construction firms involved in building the casino. That’s something right?”

“That’s supposed to mollify me?” Dawn asked with an incredulous look. Then she paused and narrowed those dark eyes. “Why are you here?” She looked around as she followed Bruce through the area. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.”

Bruce chuckled as he put his hands in his pockets. “I’m doing a favor for some important people, actually. Because I didn’t give up on our arrangement. But while I was busy with other matters, a rather unusual string of occurrences blocked my people from submitting the papers needed, and Monarch Entertainment swept in and picked it up.” He stopped at the the rear of the site, piles of foundation blocks and girders and the like resting in front of them. As he paused to glance over the mass of construction materials, he listed off the bizarre sequence of events that had led to the current situation.

“You have got to be kidding me?” Dawn replied as she shook her head over the details. “That’s...totally ridiculous. That sounds more like some goofy movie.”

“Right,” Bruce said as he moved into the maze of materials, and then paused again. He fished out a penlight and shined it over one solid foundation block. “But something’s up in the air. You’re an expert in Native American mythology and mysticism. So I’ve heard. So what can you tell me about that?” The light landed on a strange symbol embedded into the concrete.

“Tell you about what?” she asked as she moved up and looked over the rich man’s shoulders. She began to notice from that position how broad and bunched up they were under the shirt, admiring them, surprised at how fit he seemed to be. Then her eyes fell on the symbol and widened in surprise. “Definitely American Indian design. Not sure about the tribal affiliation...but some sort of trickster iconography though, I’m sure of that. What’s it doing on this block?”

“That’s what those important people want to know. I think they’re going to want to talk to you some more about this stuff,” Bruce explained. “This is bigger than...that is, it’s over my head, so I think at this point, I’m going to get going.” He snapped off the light and walked away with his companion. They headed at a leisurely pace to the gates of the site. “After all this is over though, I hope we can perhaps have dinner sometime?” They passed out onto the sidewalk as his limousine pulled up and Alfred stepped out to open the rear door. “I’d love to get a chance to get to know you further.”

“Well, maybe.” Dawn seemed uncertain about where events had led them as she looked at the limousine. “Isn’t it usually more gallant to offer the lady a ride?”

“Usually, yeah. But you’ve got other arrangements for right now.” Bruce smiled as he heard a whistling in the distance. “Go limp, and I’ll be sure to call you soon.”

“Go--” Dawn started to ask as a whirlwind roared by and after she’d finished blinking in shock, finished asking, “limp?” Then she noticed she was nowhere near Gotham City anymore, instead appearing on the plaza before the Hall of Justice, in the arms of the Flash. “You...kidnapped me?”

“You’ve heard about my criminal career, have you?” Barry chuckled nervously as he put her on her feet. “Sorry about that. We’re trying to stay on the QT here, which is why we asked Mr. Wayne to help us out. And Kid Eternity mentioned your name as an expert in the occult, so it all kind of fell together.”

“Kid...who? What’s going on?”

“Come on inside, Miss Makes Strong Move, and we’ll explain everything.” Flash put an arm around her shoulders and escorted her to the building doors. The doors of the mighty Hall parted for the Scarlet Speedster after the sensors registered his retina pattern, then responded to the signals projected from circuitry in his chest symbol. She gaped as she stepped into the expansive, beautiful corridor.

“Just call me Dawn,” she replied quietly, eyes taking everything in. “And by we, you really mean...?”

“The Justice League, Miss Makes Strong Move,” Princess Diana announced as she stepped up to shake the woman’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”

Elsewhere...

...in wide, flat country with only a nearby road, a small bench and a pile of stones forming a tall cairn, Dawn Makes Strong Move and Kid Eternity faced each other. Between them lay a small fire ringed in more stones, and she wore leathers instead of the business dress of before. She clutched a rattle in one hand, and a soft leather bag in the other and looked at the young man who seemed to be suffused with a soft glow.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked the teen hero, as she stood there in bare feet, and shivered a bit in the blustery wind, and felt very silly, despite being fully clothed. Or maybe because of the breeches and vest she wore.

“I was about to ask you if you were sure,” Kid Eternity laughed in response. “This will work?”

“It should. This is one of the centers of the country, so we have the symbolic heart. I have everything else in place, according to the description of the rite.” Dawn slowly checked off each step as she paced around the fire, toes going a bit numb from the cool ground beneath them. “Strange dancing costume and medicine pouch contents, fire, chanter. You can do the chanting, right, Kid Eternity?”

“Call me Kit. And yeah, I have the chanting covered, don’t worry,” he offered sincerely.

She took a deep breath, and exhaled, then said, “I hope I don’t embarrass myself. I’ve researched and learned all this stuff, but seriously, I didn’t think it really worked. Now I’m actually going to do this rite, and I feel so weird.” She looked at Kit with a weak grin. “And apparently, with a lot on the line.” ”

“I know what you mean, Dawn,” Kit replied with a reassuring smile. He adjusted his sunglasses and looked around nervously. “Well, let’s get underway then. Everyone else should be in position.” A cocky look spread over his face, and he called out loudly, “Eternity!”

With a sudden flash there appeared a man next to Kid Eternity. He was a distinguished-looking older man, in attire over a century old, a black jacket over white shirt. His eyes glanced quickly to the woman on the other side of the fire and gave a short nod of his head.

“Wovoka,” Dawn murmured in shock. “He’s...you can’t be here. You’re...”

“Dead? Yes, child. The power of the young lad is to bring forth legendary figures to aid him in his struggles,” the shaman said in a quiet, firm voice. “It would appear I qualify to some extent. Your knowledge of me seems to verify this.”

“There are spirits of the land, spirits dear to you and your people, trapped by a dangerous mystic,” Kit explained hurriedly. “We hope to do a rite to free them, and we need you to drum and chant as she dances. Can you do that?”

“For the spirits, and for a daughter of the People, I can do that,” Wovoka answered, his voice sharp to Kid Eternity, even as his eyes softened at the sight of Dawn in such traditional regalia. “Shall we begin?”

Dawn and Kit looked at each other and nodded. Slowly, she began chanting along with Wovoka, old words in an ancient tune as she shook the rattle in time and began her steps. They were clumsy at first, but his voice, his drums, his steady gaze, saw her through her nervousness, moving beyond the feeling of silliness gripping her. The pair threw themselves into the effort in scant time, and worked hard to reverse the magic their target had bound up, releasing trapped spirits intended to hide and protect the villain.

The Dance...

...continued, Dawn struggling to maintain the pace, the proper moves and words. This was so different from her research. This was so different from writing papers and books on the subject. This was an actual rite, and she was being guided by one of the great figures in American Indian mysticism. The inventor of the Ghost Dance was guiding her, and she was determined not to make a fool of herself before him, never mind the League’s needs. She swayed and stepped, and chanted and cried out, and lost herself to the swirl of sensations wrapping her up. She could feel something working against her now, struggling to slow her down, trying to disrupt her precision. She felt like she was dancing through muck and mud now, capturing her feet, trying to hold her fast and silence her. She didn’t care, because beyond those feelings, she could hear the drums and feel the eyes of her ancestors on her and it made her heart soar and tear through the snaring.

Kid Eternity was impressed by the spectacle. He folded his arms over his chest as he hung back, and gave the pair plenty of room. Dawn was every bit the expert Mister Keeper had told him about, and even more. He smiled as he watched her become a whirling dynamo to the drums and chanting.

“Okay, so you were right,” Kid Eternity spoke out to no one apparently. He cocked his head to the right and nodded as if hearing a response. “Wish there were more for me to do than be a signpost for the League and then drop names, but I guess I’ll get my chance down the road.” Kit chuckled as the dance grew to a powerful crescendo and then suddenly, everything stopped.

Dawn dropped to the ground, exhausted but elated as the chanting ceased, the drumming stopped, the fire shot up high into the darkening sky then burned out. Kit ran up to her and knelt down to face her. She looked up, hair plastered to her forehead as her eyes glittered. “I think it worked.” She was flushed and excited as she gulped for breath, while behind them both, silent as the ethereal winds, Wovoka faded from view.

Back at Hall of Justice

“This had to be one of the more ridiculous cases we’ve had to deal with,” Atom said from his seat as the mission debriefing wrapped up. “I mean...I can barely follow it all. He hijacked trickster spirits to move luck from gamblers so he’d be rolling in money, and pass the luck to people in mishaps, and all of that unbalancing would have eventually broken reality? The physicist in me can’t even believe I’m saying all that with a straight face.”

“Tell me about it,” Kid Eternity joked as he stood some distance from the table, hands folded over his chest. “I’m a ghost with a spirit guide buzzing in my ear, and I don’t even think I believe all that. But it’s true.”

“And it was just sheer coincidence that this was the same case I turned Ralph and Sue onto, about a month back?” Flash asked, as he shook his head.

“Of course. It was good luck. All good luck. The spirits knew what was going on. So they took care of themselves. They always do,” Dawn said softly, seated at a chair away from the conference table. “They just made sure you were lucky enough to tie it all together. For a criminal mastermind, Doctor 7 is kind of lacking. I guess.”

“Well, thanks for your help, Dawn. I hope we’re forgiven for kidnapping you,” Wonder Woman said in a joking manner as she shook the woman’s hands. “And I hope if we need advice, we can call on your mystical expertise again?”

“Of course.” Dawn smiled and stood in response. “It felt a bit silly at first, and to be honest, I never expected it to work. I’m glad it did, and I’d be thrilled to help out in the future, if you needed me.”

“As for you, Kid Eternity,” Wonder Woman said as she looked over at the teen spirit. “The Flash spoke very highly of you, and you were a great help with this case. We talked it over before the meeting, and we could use a member versed in the occult. So we’d like to offer you membership in the League, on a probationary period to start.”

“If you’re ready to play the hero again full-time, that is,” Flash added with a grin, appearing just behind the ghost and reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. At the last second, he paused, and just kept grinning.

“Let me think on that for a moment,” Kid Eternity replied with a laugh. “Call me Kit. I’m in.”