JSA #4: Grand Society

Its official name was the National Museum of Golden Age Mystery Men and World Headquarters of the Justice Society of America. It spread out over nearly an entire city block, in Battery Park, New York, and was a tourist attraction that rivaled the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. It boasted stately Baroque architecture melded to Knickerbocker sensibilities and ultra-modern amenities. Most of the ground floor was open to the public, and contained not only the exhibits devoted to the idea and culture of the American Mystery Men of the early 20th Century, but the world’s most extensive archive of their exploits, experiences and discoveries--- much of which required special access granted only by the JSA Trust (Sanderson Hawkins, Executor).

Powered by a subterranean cold fusion power unit, the Museum HQ also boasted a number of garages, a rooftop launch-pad for the “Steel Eagle” VTOL Supersonic Jet, and a newly-installed fully-automated perimeter defense system: for all intents and purposes, the Museum was also a fortress. The armory was located several floors below, and diligently maintained by Hawkman. And like any good fortress, it boasted a ground floor state-of-the-art hospital wing, administered by Dr. Charles McNider, and his two residents, Drs. Beth Chapel and Pieter Cross. Located on the floor below, conveniently close, were the training facilities, including not one, but three regulation boxing rings (Wildcat insisted), an Olympic-sized pool, a comprehensive weight-room, gymnasium, lockers and showers.

In addition, there was a formal dining hall and a banquet-sized kitchen for formal receptions, and offices for the JSA Trust, a non-profit organization that provided for the families of the superhero community. There was, in all, a permanent staff of more than three dozen, from accountants to chefs to housekeeping, all of them under the watchful eye of kindly, white-haired Mathilda “Ma” Hunkel, who was fiercely protective of her beloved JSA.

The upper-floors were dedicated to living quarters and recreation. Every member of the JSA had a comfortable suite of rooms at the Museum, though some, like Jay Garrick, rarely stayed there. For many of the younger members, though, the Museum was home away from home.



They gathered in one of the spacious home theatre rooms, splayed out in pairs on the couches or curled up in one of the many plush recliners, anxious for the TV show to begin. Jesse Chambers and Rick Tyler sat together, a virtually inseparable pair since they met in Salem, a few weeks back. They shared quick little kisses, whispered endearments, and suffered the good-natured eye-rolling of their teammates, who hooted: “Get a room!” at them with increasing regularity. Artemis Crock and her boyfriend, Cameron Mahkent, shared another couch, were somewhat less demonstrative, and still a little on their guard: not too long ago, these two were on the other side, and--- despite Wildcat’s repeated assurances--- had not yet gained the trust of their teammates. Ray, especially, kept a wary eye on them, from his perch on a stool near the wet bar none of them were old enough to use--- except for Artemis and Cameron. Occasionally, Artemis would casually flip her middle finger at Ray and smile sweetly as she drank her beer.

Jennie-Lynn and Todd Scott sat on a third couch, chatting easily with each other and munching on popcorn. Easily the biggest of them, Jo Morgan reclined in a chair, her hands over her head, and glaring at Ray every time she caught him staring at her chest. “Power Girl’s got nothing on our Atomika!” Ray had been overheard remarking to Hourman during a training session the other day, much to Jo’s discomfort.

Later, Ray had sworn to win her over, but Jo had thus far been impervious to his charm.

Deanna Barr sat by herself on one side of a couch, her arm still encased in plaster and in a sling; it had been broken by Black Adam several weeks ago, while in her metallic form, and she was still in a great deal of pain. On the other side of the couch was David Knight, who kept shooting her anxious glances, and looked as if he wanted to move closer to comfort her. When he wasn’t looking at her, Deanna was stealing glances at him…

“Shhh! It’s starting…!” Jo hissed over the hubbub of their voices. On the wide-screen plasma TV, came the tell-tale opening teletype sounds of the long-running news-digest, Dateline: WLEX. All noise in the room died down as they fixed their attention on the bearded reporter on the screen.

“Good evening. This is Andrew Vinson, reporting from New York, for Dateline: WLEX.” The newsman was in a khaki trenchcoat, strolling slowly in front of an iron-wrought fence, behind which was a familiar brick-and-mortar façade. “On tonight’s broadcast, we go inside the JSA Museum for an unprecedented, all-access look at America’s first--- and, some still say, best!--- superhero team. For the first time ever, we will get a glimpse of the behind-the-scenes dynamics and life of a major superhero organization. We will show you some candid footage of what it’s like to devote your life to fighting for justice, and the surprising cost it has on these people--- most of whom are as mortal as you and I. And in the end, perhaps we will have a little better understanding of what it means to be a member of,” as Vinson paused for dramatic effect and reached the main entrance, the camera panned up to focus on the red, white and blue awning with the JSA logo, “the Grand Society…”









The camera tracked the reporter as he walked up the steps towards the door. “We begin tonight mere days after the assault on the JSA by the so-called Injustice Society. The attack damaged a large section of the ground floor of the Museum, closing down the tourist attraction for many days while the clean-up--- and upgrade !--- was in-process.” Quick cuts showed the swathe of destruction the battle with Black Adam had caused the Museum, as various personnel and JSAers stepped over the debris.

“Disgraceful,” A plump, white-haired woman in a red apron was heard to mutter under her breath, picking up off the floor the twisted remains of an old wirepoon gun.

“Meet Mathilda Hunkel,” came the voiceover. “Known to one and all simply as ‘Ma.’ From her earliest days as the original Red Tornado, she defended her family and neighborhood from organized crime with little more than bare knuckles, spunk and a cooking pot for a helmet. She was never anything more than an honorary member of the Justice Society of America, but she protects them and their interests with the same zeal she attacks a messy lobby or a disorganized kitchen at the Museum HQ.”

“Plus she cooks a mean chili,” The face of Wildcat briefly flashed on the screen.

“The members of the JSA are just as much my family as my six granddaughters,” Ma Hunkel explained to the camera. “Even the newer members. They’re all dears, and they work so hard to keep us all safe. I simply don’t understand why someone would do something like this…” She glanced mournfully at the mess in the Hall of Magical Artifacts. “But we’ll have it cleaned up in no time,” she shook her featherduster threateningly. “And I feel sorry for anyone who tries it again…”

The image lingered for a moment on Ma’s comically smoldering expression before cutting again to Andrew Vinson. The scene now was a bright morning, a press conference on the Museum’s Roosevelt Avenue-side portico. In the background, Green Lantern faced a bank of microphones.

“Today, the JSA Museum HQ re-opens, and the team announces some new developments. Let’s listen in…” Vinson turned to face Green Lantern and the camera panned up to the podium.

“The attack on the Museum last week was actually a blessing in disguise.” Green Lantern was telling them. “It opened our eyes to the necessity of better security, especially in the public areas. To that end, we’ve installed a hyper-sophisticated A.I. monitoring system designed by a brilliant innovator named Michael Holt, formerly of Kord Omniversal, who also serves as our technical advisor, engineer and all-around go-to guy. Michael?”

A tall, sharply dressed African-American stepped up to the podium, and spoke in a clear, commanding voice. “Good morning. We have installed in the HQ an extensive network of adaptable monitoring and defensive systems, complete with countermeasures programmed to respond to the powers and abilities of over a hundred known supervillains, with an emphasis on the traditional enemies of the JSA. Of course, nothing is foolproof--- how does one design a countermeasure against Black Adam, for instance?--- but my objective was to make the Museum a safer place, and that’s what I’ve done. I would stake my reputation that the Museum is one of the safest places on Earth today. On a personal note, it’s a pleasure to work with the JSA. This is a terrific opportunity for anyone in my position, and to know that my work is being put to the best use is extremely rewarding.”

Michael Holt stepped back and Green Lantern retook the podium.

“I haven’t seen anything this man cannot do, and do better than just about anybody else; we are extremely grateful to have him onboard.” The elder statesman of the team smiled back at their new technical advisor, and the cameras flashed. “In addition to Michael, we were lucky enough to discover that an old friend was still around to act as our new Security Chief. Back in our heyday, he went by the name Robotman.”

Scattered applause came from the small crowd, and from Green Lantern himself, as a new figure took the podium. He was a gleaming platinum construct, with super-articulate joints, and a retro-look that defied the obvious state-of-the-art design of his metallic body.

“The press dubbed me that back in the 40s,” came the hollow, synthetic voice, sounding tentative. A hinged jaw moved and his visual-receptors glowed red. “I am actually a cyborg. I was once research scientist Dr. Robert Crane. My brain was transplanted into a metal body after I was nearly killed by gangsters, and I fought crime and injustice with the JSA on the homefront during the War Years as a member of the All-Star Squadron. Now thanks to the work of Mr. Holt and Dr. Pieter Cross, my brain has been fitted into a new, and far more advanced cybernetic body. My exoskeleton is made of unbreakable promethium, and my limbs are extendable up to thirty feet. My hydraulics are capable of launching me a mile up into the air, and I can withstand forces well in excess of 100,000 P.S.I., about 33 times the pressure of a commercial jet airliner.” There was a low whistle from the crowd, and an impressed murmur was quickly hushed as Robotman went on. “I addition, I am fully integrated with the A.I. of the Museum, and am in a state of constant uplink with it.” Here Robotman paused, as if seized by sudden emotion. “I… I have been too long in a state of self-imposed exiled. My old body had deteriorated to the point of almost complete shutdown. Like Michael, I consider it an honor and a privilege to work with the JSA again, and pledge to defend their house with every resource at my disposal.”

Loud applause as the camera panned back down onto Andrew Vinson. “And with the return of a lost mystery man, the JSA Museum re-opens to the public. We’ll be back after these messages.”



Jennie-Lynn dabbed at her eyes, and Todd almost choked on his popcorn.

“You’re crying?” Her brother asked incredulously, and the others turned towards them. Jennie swiped at Todd with a pillow, wiping her cheeks.

“What?” she protested. “What happened to that poor man is very sad...! Stranded in a basement in a S.T.A.R Labs for decades, surviving only on life-support until Jesse’s parents found him a few months ago… This is a new life for him.”

Todd held up his hands, smiling at his sister’s glare. “I’m not saying I’m not happy for Robby, I’m just amazed that you’re getting so weepy about it.”

“Oh, shut up,” Jennie fumed.



“Welcome back. With the damages repaired, and the new Security Chief Robotman in place, the JSA Museum has reopened to the public. And the people came flooding back in. The first day alone saw a record number of visitors. And the most popular exhibit seems to be the Hall of Fallen Heroes.” Vinson’s voice was low and respectful as he walked into a somber, cavernous hall where the lighting was dim. The hall was filled with bronze statues of dead heroes, and the memorials to them. “People come from all over the world to pay their respects to the mystery men and women of the Golden Age who gave their lives in the never-ending crusade.”

The camera meandered about the room, capturing the solemn faces of the visitors as they moved from exhibit to exhibit. It lingered for a moment on one yellow-haired man, graying at the temples, with a firm jaw and broad shoulders. He stood in front of the Hawkwoman statue, hands in his pockets, just staring up at the image. When he realized the camera was watching him, he quickly moved away.

“With us now is Sanderson Hawkins, executor of the charitable foundation, the JSA Trust, and the man chiefly responsible for keeping the flame in recent years.” Andrew Vinson stood with a distinguished silver-haired man in a conservative black suit by a statue of the Star-Spangled Kid. Sanderson Hawkins nodded blandly at the introduction. “In addition to being a successful businessman in his own right and heir to the Dodds-Belmont fortunes, Sandy, as he is widely known by his friends, is the world’s foremost authority on the mystery men and women of the Golden Age.”

“Andrew, while the JSA is certainly the most important and prominent gathering of superheroes from that time period,” Sanderson said without preamble, “They were not the only ones. We’re standing in front of the memorial for the Star-Spangled Kid, member of the Law’s Legionnaires, or--- as they were more widely known--- the Seven Soldiers of Victory. And as you can see, everyone of them have a memorial here. Stripe, partner of the Kid, Vigilante, Crimson Avenger, Spider, Shining Knight, and Firebrand.”

“What happened to them?”

“They died saving the world in 1948.”

Andrew Vinson’s face took on a suitably grave expression. “With great power comes great danger, as well.”

Sandy seemed to take a slight exception to this comment. “Well, these heroes put themselves in front of the danger, between it and the innocent. Nor are they the only ones. We’ve lost so many over the years, as this Hall attests to,” He extended his arm and the camera followed it, panning around from memorial to memorial. “The original Commander Steel, Amazing Man, Miss America, Red Bee, Hawkwoman… The list goes on and on. Some we lost in recent years, like the first Wonder Woman, the original Captain Marvel and Starman. But there are some, like Johnny Thunder, Mr. Terrific and all of the Freedom Fighters, that the world doesn’t even remember existed…” Sandy’s voice took on a wistful quality as the camera focused on a statue of a masked man who wore a tunic emblazoned with the motto “Fair Play.”

“It’s sobering to think about the human cost of this way of life,” the voiceover returned as the camera faded out and then back in to what was obviously an examination room. Deanna Barr sat on the side of the bed in a hospital gown, wincing as Dr. Beth Chapel palpitated her broken arm and shoulder. “This young woman is called Bulleteer. She is able to transform her flesh into an indestructible Nth Metal alloy that allows her to fly, and at great velocities. During the battle with Black Adam, her arm and shoulder were savagely broken while in her Nth form, and she’s been out of commission ever since.”

The camera was an unobtrusive visitor in the exam room.

“How’s the pain?” Dr. Chapel asked, consulting a chart.

“Manageable,” Bulleteer grimaced, gently massaging her arm as she slid it back into its sling. “It’s the insomnia that’s the worst. And every time I do manage to catch a few hours of sleep, I see him in my dreams.”

Dr. Chapel, a stunning woman with coffee-colored skin, looked back at her patient and frowned. “Do you mean Black Adam?”

“Yes,” Bulleteer admitted in a soft voice, looking down.

“Are you still unable to trigger your transformation?”

Deanna nodded, her long honey-brown hair obscuring her face. “Hawkman says it’s a matter of confidence, that the Nth Metal is psycho-receptive, and will come back to me when I really need it, but…”

“But what?”

Deanna looked up, her eyes full and shining. “I’m not sure I want it to.”



Without a word, Deanna got up off the couch and rushed from the room, the eyes of all the others on her. David Knight got up, and made to follow her, but she slammed the door definitively on her way out, leaving him just standing there, awkwardly.

For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the droning of the TV as it went to a commercial.

“Wow, I had no idea she was going through that,” Jesse Chambers broke the silence, as David fell heavily back onto the couch he now had all to himself. “I mean, I knew she was shaken up, but…”

“She’s keeping it bottled up pretty tight.” David told them. It was clear to all of them that he had fallen for her, and was equally clear that it was not going well. “I’ve tried to talk to her, but she doesn’t want to think about it…”

“This is just a phase, though?” Jo Pratt spoke up, concern for her friend on her face. “Her powers will return, eventually, right…?”

David shrugged. “Dr. Chapel says there is nothing physically wrong with her, I mean other than the shoulder and arm.”

“Man, I can’t believe they aired that,” Artemis whistled, even her rough exterior not unaffected by Bulleteer’s plight.

“Vultures,” Cameron agreed, popping open another beer.



“The full membership of the Justice Society of America meets once a week, to debrief from their last case, review current investigations, discuss training exercises, and to plan for the challenges that inevitably wait for them in the future,” the scene was a cathedral-like room with an impressive marble table ringed with chairs, a monitor array displaying satellite images and broadcasts from across the planet, and a wall of portraits from various eras in the team’s history. Brightly-clad figures in capes and masks milled about in clusters, chatting with each other, consulting the monitor interface, or sipping from the tea that Ma Hunkel offered them from a sterling silver service. “Our unprecedented access to the JSA continues, thanks to Michael Holt’s extensive monitoring system, as we unobtrusively observe portions of this meeting…”

The voiceover fell silent and the camera moved to track Hawkman as he strode into the room. At his side hovered Dr. Fate, gliding only inches above the floor. “Settle down, people, and let’s get started.”

Without further ado, the team took their seats around the enormous marble table engraved with the JSA logo, only Hawkman remaining on his feet. The feed, which seemed to be coming from a free-floating camera, captured each and every one of them in turn as it rotated from a central point over the table: Hawkman, the Flash, Obsidian, Wildcat, the Ray, Jade, Dr. Fate, Atomika, Green Lantern, Tigress, Icicle, Cyclone, Hourman, Bulleteer, Captain Marvel and Starman.

Only one seat remained empty, one member not in attendance.

In addition to the regular members, Ma Hunkel bustled in the background, Robotman stood at attention by the monitor interface, and a man in a four-star general’s uniform waited a respectful distance behind Hawkman, his iron-grey head uncovered, his hat in his hand.

Hawkman rapped once with the small gavel set at his place, and began. “I think all of you have met by now the Department of Homeland Security’s liaison to the JSA, General Harry Harrigan…?” There was a chorus of assent, and the general stepped forward with a small nod. “As some of you are already aware, we’ve been asked by DHS to take a look at a meta-terrorist organization called the Fourth Reich. General Harrigan is here to brief all of us on the known members of this dangerous cabal, and their movements. General?”

Stepping aside, Hawkman allowed the uniformed man to take his spot at the head of the table. General Harrigan cleared his throat, and with his hands crisply at his side, he spoke. “Good evening ladies and gentleman. We’ve been gathering intel on this particular organization for almost a year now, though given their resources, it’s a wonder we know anything about them at all. They are extremely mobile, working mostly out of Europe, though we’ve tracked their movements and money to Africa and the Middle East, as well. Their precise objectives right now are unknown, but we do know they are dedicated to a revival of fascist ideology. Robotman, if you please…?”

The lights darkened and the largest screen of the monitor array came to life, upon it the square-jaw, blonde hair and pitiless eyes of Captain Nazi.

“Their membership includes superpowered villains with whom the JSA is mostly familiar. Albrecht Krieger, AKA Captain Nazi, seems to be some kind of field commander, or cell leader.” The image changed, and on the screen was a man in heavy red armor, painted with a big, black Iron Cross, and bristling with armament. “Our files indicate that Red Panzer was once a man named Helmut Streicher, though it is unlikely to be the same man today, as he would be in his nineties.” Next, a woman in stylized medieval dress, with a long honey-blond braid and a tall, barbed spear. “This one is called Valkyrie, and that is about all we know about her. She may or may not be the same woman who attempted President Roosevelt’s life in 1942--- an attempt the JSA foiled!--- as there is reason to believe she is immortal,”

“Which is…?” Asked Green Lantern.

General Harrigan consulted his notes. “She was spotted on a flying horse over the North Sea, and shot down by Russian MiGs. We have satellite images to verify this--- and the fact that she came back out of the freezing water, unscathed, and proceeded to destroy the entire squadron… With only a spear and a sword.”

“Sounds like reason enough ta me,” Wildcat quipped, to a subdued chorus of nervous laughter from the younger members. Only Hawkman, Green Lantern and Flash, who had tangled with her before, abstained.

“This next one is named Dieter Von Bach, though he goes by Masterman.” Harrigan went on, and on the screen was a huge, bare-chested bruiser with a shaved head and a swastika tattooed on the flesh of his chest. “We know a little more about him. He’s a white supremacist and the son of an American industrialist. His father was Hermann Von Bach, a real unsavory character who was hounded by government authorities for his fascist beliefs and sponsorship of underground supremacist propaganda. Dieter has been in and out of prisons all his life, and has been the recipient of extensive--- and illegal--- medical experimentation while in prison. We believe the source of his great power and limited invulnerability comes from a refined version of the drug Venom and the serum that gave Captain Nazi his power.”

Hourman gave a low whistle, and looked like he was eager to test himself against the villain.

“These three identical individuals are actually one man who can replicate himself,” Harrigan went on, and the display showed the snarling visages of a non-descript man in a black bodysuit, the only splash of color on them the crimson slash of an ‘S’, in the manner of a Nazi SS officer. “He calls himself Der Sturmer, and for good reason: his coordinated attacks have overwhelmed squads of police in Israel, Berlin and Petrovna. We know nothing else about him. This next one, on the other hand, we have uncovered quite a bit,” the picture of a beautiful, dark-haired woman with sleepy, cruel eyes filled the screen. “She is the Contessa Magdalena di Sforza, former fashion model and heir to an old European fortune. But now she calls herself Baroness Blitzkrieg.”

“She’s a speedster,” The Flash told them, as if the notion were an affront to him. “She uses her gifts to murder people. She’s the chief assassin for the Fourth Reich.” His disgust was plain. The camera focused on his expressive face, the chin jutting and the eyes fierce.

“The governments of three countries tried to seize her assets after her identity was discovered, but she’s managed to liquidate millions of dollars.” Harrigan scowled. “She provides a great deal of funding to the organization, but she isn’t stupid. We haven’t been able to track the spending, which means they must have an extensive series of accomplices across the globe.”

Green Lantern stood, fuming with uncharacteristic impatience. “Damn it! I thought we eradicated the Nazi menace a long time ago! Nothing gets me so furious as fascism, ignorance and hatred all in the same package.” Responding to his mood, his ring sputtered, a tiny green flare washing out the camera image for a moment. “What is it that they want, Harry? Any more word on this Project Herrenvolk?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” The general consulted his notes again. “Last week, Masterman and Red Panzer raided---.”

Andrew Vinson’s voiceover resumed, and the scene froze. “Unfortunately, the following has been classified by order of the Department of Homeland Security in the pursuit of an ongoing investigation. No one at WLEX was allowed to view the footage, and the original recordings have been surrendered to the DHS. We pick up some twelve minutes later, as the meeting is ready to adjourn…

“Sounds like they’re close to making a move,” Hawkman was saying, his voice tense.

“That’s what our guys in State think, as well, Hawkman,” said General Harrigan. “Though we still don’t know their agenda, or where they are now.” He looked from one JSAer to another. “We were hoping the Justice Society might be able to help us in that regard.”

“They’re Nazis. It’s not hard to figure out what their agenda is: world domination,” growled Hawkman. “As for the JSA lending a hand, you can count on it. As a matter of fact, we’re working on that as we speak...”



“Damn, Hawkman is such a badass,” The Ray shook his head in admiration, to the general amusement of the others.

“He’s not so tough,” Icicle remarked casually over his shoulder to Ray. “Both Artemis and I did a stint at Belle Reve last year, and I can tell you some stories about some meta-inmates that would scare the hell out of you. And I bet any one of them could take our fine-feathered chairman.”

The Ray leaped from his stool at the provocation, and the room exploded into action. Rick jumped up as well, to come to Ray’s defense, but David and Jesse were quickly there to hold them back. Icicle jumped from the couch, instantly icing over, Tigress at his side, growling. Atomika was on her feet as well, though she, too, seemed more likely to stop the impending fight than to choose a side.

Before anyone could make a move, a pair of giant green hands interposed themselves between the potential combatants, pushing them back from each other. Jade gave them all a reproving look, as Obsidian hovered at her side, ready to help his sister separate their teammates.

“I can’t believe you guys!” said the daughter of Green Lantern. “If Wildcat caught either of you fighting in the residence, he’d kick all our butts! Simmer down!”

Ray and Icicle only continued to glare at each other, and the ambient temperature in the room started to dip into freezing.

“C’mon, Cameron, it’s getting really cold in here,” Jesse remonstrated, her teeth chattering.

“I can heat it up,” Ray muttered darkly, beginning to glow so bright the others had to shield their eyes.

Then the room plunged into swift, sudden darkness. Even the glow of Jade’s power-pulse was snuffed out. Everyone staggered, feeling an intense suffocation in the shadows that enveloped them.

“Todd,” Jade’s voice sounded small and lost to distance in the pressing gloom. “Todd, what are you doing…?”

“Putting an end to this alpha-male nonsense,” came the hollow, echoing voice of Obsidian.

“Alright, alright already,” the Ray pronounced in a huff, though there was a tinge of hysteria to his voice. “We’re cool, Todd. Right, Cam? No big deal…”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The shadows withdrew, sucked into the form of Todd Scott. They all stared at him, in varying degrees of consternation. On the TV, the show had returned, but none of them were paying attention.

Cameron stalked out, followed closely by Artemis, who had a lingering glare for Ray.

“Jeez, where did that come from, Todd?” Ray asked in a hostile tone. “That was some freaky, scary stuff. I can’t believe you used it on us! I felt like everything good in the world had been consumed by… by that shadowstuff…!”

Todd only stared at his teammates for a moment, opening his mouth to speak, but he seemed to have no words. He left the room in a rush.

“I’ll go talk to him,” David Knight offered. He and Todd had been friends since that first day, when Obsidian had saved his life against a spell of the Wizard’s.

“I’m coming with you.” Jade said, looking concerned, and then they were gone, too.

The fun and camaraderie of the night was gone, as well. Ray mumbled something about needing some air and left, followed closely by Jo, who took one look at the only remaining occupants of the room, Rick and Jesse, felt like a third wheel, and excused herself.

“So much for our nice relaxing evening all together,” Rick lamented as he retook his seat on the couch. Jesse snuggled up close, her wide grin pointed up at him.

“Oh, I don’t know. I see new possibilities in this current situation…”



“… For this last segment of the show, we are going to leave the JSA Museum behind, and take you out of the city, to a secret location in Westchester County. This remote estate is unofficially known as the ‘JSA Academy’ and a home away from home for many members of the team. In addition to the acres of private land, including a nature preserve and lakefront property, the grand old house is a retreat from the hustle and bustle of the city--- not to mention the stress and pressures of the superhero life. Here, members of the Justice Society come to unwind, go swimming in the lake, or--- in the case of today--- participate in ambitious training exercises.”

In the clear blue sky, the Ray swooped from out of the sun. Behind him came Hawkman, who banked hard to his left and rolled, neatly avoiding a concentrated blast of light from the younger hero. A gladiator’s net enveloped the Ray, the end of which Hawkman tugged, hard, cinching him up like a prized catch. Jade and Starman flew in fast from the other direction, but Hawkman was ready for them. Using the momentum of the Ray’s own flight, he swung the netted hero around and around then released, hurling him straight at Jade. Only a hastily projected catcher’s mitt prevented a mid-air collision, though Ray’s cries of indignation were clear. Starman rose out of the way, but Hawkman had anticipated the move: he hit Starman head-on, sending the cosmic rod tumbling to earth…

Where it was caught by a snickering Wildcat. “C’mon, Hourman, is that all ya got?” He yelled to another group of battling JSAers. The cowled mystery man was crouched and poised to spring at Tigress, who bounced lithely around him, wearing a cocky smirk.

Sitting on the grass around them were Cyclone, Icicle, Atomika and Obsidian, all of them cheering and laughing at the combatants. So far, every time Hourman struck, it had been neatly countered and deflected by Tigress, who had yet to break a sweat.

“Let me take a Miraclo, and I’ll show you exactly what I got…!” Hourman taunted back, to appreciative hoots.

“Forget it, kid.” Wildcat growled. “You gotta learn to get by without it sometimes. Some of our fights are gonna last longer than an hour ya know. What happens when you’re in the middle of dukin’ it out with Vandal Savage and the Miraclo wears off? You gonna ask him pretty please to reschedule?”

Hourman gave an inarticulate roar and charged Tigress--- who fell into a spinning drop-kick, taking her opponent out at the legs. It was all over, with Tigress straddling Hourman, her fists raised.

“But it’s not all fun and games at the JSA Academy,” interrupted the voiceover, and the scene cut to across the lake, where both the ground combat and the aerial dueling could be seen from a distance. “Sometimes, there is also business to conduct. Today the JSA entertains two very important guests.” Flash strolled along the lakeside path with a tall blonde in a white costume and a red cape, and a man in a red, white and blue costume, his open-faced mask topped with a fin.

“Commander Steel and I certainly appreciate the invitation for the weekend, Flash,” the woman paused, crossing her arms over her ample breasts. “But, and not to be rude, surely you didn’t have us up here to swap stories around the campfire…?”

“It’s not rude to be direct, Power Girl,” A smile creased the features of the original Scarlet Speedster. “In fact, that’s a quality I admire. I’ll get to the point then. The Justice Society of America wants the two of you for our team.”

Power Girl raised one expressive eyebrow, but it was Commander Steel who responded. “You want us? Why us?”

“Well, for starters, I had the privilege of fighting side-by-side with your grandfather, the first Commander Steel, on the All-Star Squadron during the war,” Flash told him. “It would be an honor to serve with his grandson. But more importantly, the JSA is all about the legacy of heroism, passed from generation to generation, in service to the greater good. The mantles we bear, we hope to pass down to our successors, so that they can carry on the fight for justice. The world will always need a Justice Society, and we aim to make sure it will always have one, even after we’re gone. So who better than the two of you to help us pass the torch? To keep the flame alive?”

Commander Steel nodded his head, impressed and obviously flattered. But the look on Power Girl’s face was one of incredulity.

“Huh.” She said. “Okay, I can see why you called for Steel, here; but I don’t get why you chose me? I mean, you’ve already got some heavy hitters, like Captain Marvel and Green Lantern… Why didn’t you… I don’t know, invite Superman or Wonder Woman, for that matter. I don’t exactly have a reputation for playing well with others…”

At this, Flash’s smile got a little sheepish, and he scratched at his temple, cocking his silver helm slightly askew. “To be honest, Power Girl, I’m not sure. But Dr. Fate advised us that you should be on the team, he said there was something ‘cosmically balanced’ about that. And frankly, after meeting you, I’m glad we did send the call out. I’d be honored to call you my teammate.”

Power Girl was taken aback. She had not expected that response. And she appeared to be blushing, but she turned away from the camera so it was impossible to tell.

“With all due respect, Flash, Power Girl and I already belong to a team,” Commander Steel’s voice held real regret. “I know we’re not exactly well-regarded in the superheroing community, but I’m proud of the work I’ve done with Powers, Inc. And I’m sure Power Girl feels the same way,”

“Actually, I---.”

“Furthermore, I know that we still have good work to do. The JSA will do alright without us, but Powers needs us. Badly. So, I’m very sorry, sir, I don’t think we can accept your very generous, very flattering, invitation.”

The look that Power Girl sent Steel’s way was steaming, but she kept her mouth shut despite herself.

The Flash was nodding, his smile turning wistful. “I respect that decision, son. But the two of you should know the offer is open ended. A month from now, a year or ten years, the door will always be open. The JSA is a family, and Power Girl and Commander Steel will always have a home with us.”

The two shook hands, and Power Girl spontaneously hugged the speedster--- who’s turn it was now to blush--- and the screen faded out…

It faded back in on Andrew Vinson, looking pensive, and standing again on the street outside the JSA Museum in Manhattan. “So there you have it,” he said as he walked, hands in his pockets, choosing words as if he were picking them off a tree. “An historic, unprecedented behind the scenes glimpse at America’s oldest, most revered superhero team. It is not a glamorous life. Not by any means.” There were quick cuts of the members training; Atomika testing her nuclear punch against a specially designed promethium target, Starman using his cosmic rod to create force fields. “It carries with it a very real human toll,” Bulleteer’s stricken face appeared on the screen. “And sometimes, it asks for the ultimate price.” A slow shot of the Hall of Fallen Heroes, the camera lingering on the bronze face of Mr. Terrific. “And while it cannot be denied these masked men and women are, for the most part, mortal human beings like you and I, they are also superheroes--- and a family.” Now the scene was an outing at the Academy, all of them sitting around a fire at dusk, eating hot dogs and drinking iced tea. “The world is a dangerous place,” Brief glimpses of the Fourth Reich floated across the screen, ultimately to give way to the JSA, sitting around their meeting room table, determination etched on every face. “And as the Flash said just a moment ago, it needs heroes--- and the Justice Society will always be there to give them to us. I’m Andrew Vinson for Dateline: WLEX. Good night.”



The end credits rolled, but by then Rick Tyler and Jesse Chambers were too busy with other matters to notice…