Post by David on Oct 28, 2008 20:49:08 GMT -5
The black, unmarked train steamed through the night across Vlatava, towards the Kasnian border.
In a compartment in a rear car lurked the Sandman, while a jackbooted Der Sturmer strode by. The Nazi stormtrooper, who was an exact genetic duplicate of the original, had a rifle at the ready but was not on his guard; he was merely checking on the precious cargo purchased earlier that night from a rogue Pokolistani general. As he passed, he acquired a shadow, one who was accustomed to moving silently and remaining unseen.
Find the Fourth Reich, Hawkman had tasked him. You have connections all over the world, Wes, one of them should pay off. Find out what those Nazis are up to, and report back as soon as you can. Don’t try to take them on yourself--- this is just an intelligence mission. We need to know what we’re up against.
Wes had picked up the trail in Modora, where he had gotten word of a large cash transaction taking place. The money was coming from the Von Bach family, but laundered through a Markovian bank. They were buying something big from beyond the former Iron Curtain, and Wesley Dodds was not leaving until he found out what it was.
The Der Sturmer dupe pushed open a final door, and walked through. The train-car was a simply a windowless hold with a single swinging light, swaying with the motion of the train; metal glinted in the darkness. A sound behind him alerted Der Sturmer; he whirled about--- in time to catch the butt end of the Sandman’s gas-gun square in the dark plastic faceplate of his helmet. The Nazi staggered back, trying to raise his rifle. But it was too late: the faceplate cracked, the dupe was already getting a lungful of the noxious green gas spewing relentlessly from the Sandman’s gun.
{Be grateful, Nazi, that this night you will be visited only with nightmares,} Wes advanced into the car, as the trooper choked and dropped to his knees. {Instead of the violence and hatred you and your kind would visit upon others.}
In the swaying light of the single lamp, the Sandman gazed around the hold. At first he thought that the car was filled with two rows of armored men, but upon a closer look the armor was empty. And he recognized its make: these were Rocket Reds. Or at least, they had been. Old Soviet-era super-soldier tech, long abandoned to the break-away republics, like Pokolistan. Wes dragged the unconscious dupe to a corner, then crept to the next car; it too was filled with Rocket Red armor. As was the next one. This was not good. There must have been enough armor here to outfit several battalions…
The Fourth Reich was planning something big.
“Fool.” Rumbled a deep, arrogant voice. In the doorway of the car Wes had just come from was the big bruiser known as Von Bach the Masterman. He was a giant, his bare chest tattooed in a thick swastika. He was flanked by two armed Der Sturmers, both of whom had their rifles trained on Wes.
“Whatever one stormtrooper sees, all his brothers see, too.” Masterman told him with a gap-toothed grin. “Will make for a nice tactical advantage on the battlefield, don’t you think?” Cracking his knuckles, he advanced menacingly.
Wes leveled his gas gun, but Masterman seemed unconcerned. A jet of green gas enveloped his head, causing him only to cough a little, and continue to come-on, the troopers lingering behind to watch the fun.
“The chemical cocktail coursing through my body right now makes me immune to your pathetic knockout gas,” the Nazi explained, as Wes backed away. Indeed, the bulging veins on Masterman’s biceps and necks were etched in black. “It’s what’s also going to give me the strength to tear you limb from limb, untermensch.”
{In your dreams.} Wes reached for a rack of armor and pulled at it hard. The whole load came crashing down atop Masterman, blocking his way forward. The Nazi swore in frustration, smashing the armor aside, even as the troopers opened fire. Muzzle-fire lit up the hold and bullets pinged off the red and white armor. But the Sandman was already on the move, ducking out the back door, into the next car, yanking the door closed behind him, just as bullets slammed into it. It was another hold filled with Rocket Red armor--- and this time, there was no exit on the other end.
End of the line, Wes, he told himself, holstering his gas gun, and searching around for an idea. That’s when he saw the hatch on the ceiling. With the Nazis seconds away from bursting in, he leaped atop a rack of armor, and threw open the hatch. Bullets whistled past his feet just as he finished pulling himself onto the roof of the car!
The rushing air took his hat as he scrambled for his balance. The night was cloudless and lit by a full moon, illuminating the river valley over which the train-tracks ran. The bridge was hundreds of feet above the river--- he would not survive the fall. So he ran, hunched over against the wind, not looking down, up towards the front of the train.
A hatch directly in his path opened up, and the spiked helm of a trooper poked his head up. Wes leaped over the obstacle, just as the Nazi opened fire. The bullets shredded his trenchcoat, but he landed unscathed, pausing only to send a whirling back-kick clumsily at the shooter; the trooper fell back into the car.
Wesley Dodds had been in tighter jams, but not that many. And he had been younger then, able to withstand the punishment of such an escapade. Every muscle protested, but he continued to scramble forward, even as he heard the voices from behind him, felt the bullets whizzing dangerously close; the Nazis were on his tail, and he had nowhere to go.
Up ahead, two cars forward, another hatch opened, and Masterman pulled himself onto the roof of the train. Wes halted, glancing backward: at least five troopers, all armed, were less than three cars away, holding their fire as not to hit Von Bach.
“You’re not getting off this train alive, Sandman!” Masterman taunted, his cruel voice pitched to carry over the roar of the wind and the rattle of the train. He stomped forward, flexing his man-killing hands.
It only took Wes a second to get the measure of Von Bach. The so-called Masterman was a killer, and Wes knew he would not last long in a toe-to-toe. A brief glance down at the river was enough to give Wes vertigo, and set his arms pinwheeling for balance--- because he had just seen something he had not seen in decades, something that he had never expected to see again...
{We’re going to stop you,} he yelled at Von Bach, drawing another weapon from inside his shoulder holster. Michael Holt had perfected the Wirepoon gun, and no longer was the grapple necessary: it now shot a snub-nosed bolt, attached to a high-tensile microfilament, that would bond electro-chemically with whatever was hit. Wes pointed it at Masterman, temporarily halting the villain’s advance. {Wherever the Fourth Reich goes, the JSA will be there. Tell your new Fuhrer: sleep lightly because we are coming for him.}
Masterman snarled, and Wesley fired. But at the last moment, he adjusted his aim, shooting his line out over the side, past the villain. But Masterman was too stunned to notice. For at that moment, he was cowering down, away from the strange craft that had arisen soundlessly out of the river below, shedding water and flying parallel with the speeding train. The wirepoon-lead connected with it, and Wes leaped, swinging from the roof of the car out into space, just as the craft angled away.
Bullets from the troopers bounced harmlessly off the hull of the Gyrosub, and soon it was out of range. Dangling from the wirepoon-lead like the tail of a kite, the Sandman slowly pulled himself towards the opened cockpit, glancing over his shoulder at the train dwindling into the distance.
“Close call,” noted the pilot, dressed in familiar garb--- though the voice was much different.
Wes climbed into the spacious cockpit and collapsed into a chair, as the cockpit hatch slid closed. He tore off his mask, gasping for breath, his adrenalin still pumping.
“Let me guess: you’re the new Spy Smasher?”
“You got it, old man.” The pilot turned and gave Wes a smile. “But you can call me Katrina. Katrina Armstrong.” She tossed back a long, golden ponytail, and gave him a bold and appraising look. “And it looks like I caught up to you just in time…”
“A-ha!” Cried the Sky Pirate, as he threw back the flaps of his longcoat, and jabbed the button on his big, brass belt buckle. Waves of distortion radiated from the buckle, and Starman, who had been diving in for the kill, was caused to veer off course in confusion, crashing into the deck of the Aeronautilus.
Moored to the Statue of Liberty with grapples, the airship bobbed in the air over New York Harbor, with most of the city looking on. The Sky Pirate had lured the JSA out after him, and was on the verge of destroying a priceless national symbol unless the helmet of the Flash, the ring of Green Lantern and the mace of Hawkman were surrendered to him.
And only seconds ago, his henchmen had thrown the limp body of the Ray overboard.
“Jade!” Hawkman, too far away to help the Ray, yelled to his teammate, then dove in to rescue Starman.
Jade, who had been towing Hourman and Cyclone in a glowing green bubble, responded to the emergency with admirable alacrity: she scooped the falling Ray out of the air with a catcher’s mitt--- but distracted by the urgency of Ray’s situation, she had allowed the bubble holding Hourman and Cyclone to dissolve! They plummeted towards the water, their surprised screams echoing out over the harbor.
Laughing uproariously, the Sky Pirate turned to face Hawkman head-on, leveling his two antique-looking flintlocks at the Winged Avenger. Sizzling bolts of energy stabbed at Hawkman, who tucked his wings in tight, corkscrewed in, and strafed the deck of the Aeronautilus. The Sky Pirate proved more nimble than he looked, leaping away at the last instant, so that the mace rang off a metal bulkhead. Checking to make sure his hat was still intact, the Sky Pirate scrambled down a hatch, disappearing below.
Starman was climbing unsteadily to his feet, still disoriented by the Sky Pirate’s attack. Raising his cosmic rod, he attempted to lift off, but found himself suddenly smothered with heavy netting; chortling crewmembers snagged him out of the air, and yanked him back to the deck like a struggling marlin.
By the time Jade realized what she had done, she was already setting the unconscious Ray down on the dock, where paramedics were standing by. Luckily, Cyclone was thinking fast: grabbing Hourman’s hand in hers, with the other hand she created a whirlwind that slowed their descent. When they hit the water, she took him in both arms, and sped over the surface of the harbor, towards the Statue.
“What’s that, the third time you’ve saved my life?” Hourman gazed at her admiringly.
Jesse Chambers gave him a lopsided grin. “Where would you be without me, handsome?”
They were a streak of light across the water, up the front of the Statue and onto the floating airship.
By that time, Hawkman had landed on the deck, and was wading through the dozens off crewmen to get to Starman. With gritted teeth, he distracted them and deflected energy blasts with the ball of his mace, which was blackened now and pitted, almost useless. Hourman plowed into the pirates like a bulldozer, scattering them like ten-pins. In a blink, the vainly struggling Starman was whisked from his tormentors, and was clear across the deck when Cyclone paused to pull the netting from him.
“Leaving so soon? Do stay awhile, my dears!”
The Sky Pirate had reappeared, from out of a hatch close-by Jesse and David, this time with something like a bazooka on his shoulder. The weapon’s recoil caused the Sky Pirate to stagger backward, but he kept his footing as he surveyed the damage it had caused. Cyclone and Starman appeared relatively unhurt--- only they weren’t moving. They were frozen in place, with expressions of surprise on their faces. Chortling, the Sky Pirate let the strange bazooka fall to the deck, and sauntered up to the immobile heroes.
“I was saving that beauty for the Flash, but you rotters’ll do,” he tweaked Jesse’s cheek, and studied her face. “That was a time-decelerator cannon. At this rate, you ought to be able to manage one blink every hour or so. Particularly useful on speedsters. You know, I’ve spent hours wondering what hilarious positions I would pose someone in, and now I can’t make up my mind… I’ll bet this never happened to the Joker. A crackpot, yes--- but extremely creative!”
“Jesse!”
The Sky Pirate gave a startled jump, and turned to see a frantic Hourman barreling down at him. Henchmen tried to interpose themselves, but Hourman just hurled them aside, not pausing even as one clung to his leg to drag him backward.
“Hourman, no!” Hawkman yelled in frustration, even as the Sky Pirate drew from his coat a cutlass that seemed to be too long to have been hidden there. The villain saluted Hourman with a flourish, then swished the blade, prepared for the fight.
Hawkman leaped into the air, dodging the nets that flew after him, even as Jade appeared, ready for action.
“Save the hostages, damn it!” Hawkman called to her, pointing to the Torch balcony, where a dozen screaming civilians were being terrorized by a handful of cackling crewmen. “We’ve got to disarm the explosives!” The entire Statue was wired to blow--- and it could go off any minute.
Despite the fact that he had a henchman clinging to his left leg, one on his right bicep, and he was dragging one who had his arms around his waist, Hourman had reached the Sky Pirate. But instead of engaging the snarling hero, the Sky Pirate turned his cutlass on the frozen heroes next to him. The point hovered a millimeter away from Cyclone’s exposed throat, and the Sky Pirate challenged Hourman with one arched eyebrow. Hourman stopped short, appalled, his hangers-on panting with the exertion of trying to hold him back.
“Seems I’ve found your Achilles’ Heel, hero,” mused the Sky Pirate. “You fancy the wench, huh? I do admit, she does have a certain charm. If you like fast women, that is.” The villain giggled at his own joke.
“Don’t you touch her,” Hourman rasped.
“Oh, I’ll do more than touch her--- and him!” He indicated Starman, as well. “If you don’t do exactly what I say, right now.”
Hourman’s jaw clenched. A quick glance showed Hawkman and Jade busy rescuing the hostages and saving the Statue. He was on his own for the moment. “What do you want?”
“Dear boy, I want what every good pirate wants of his enemies,” Sky Pirate smiled drolly, but a deadly seriousness was behind his hard eyes. He pointed to the edge of the deck, and the fatal drop below, and viciously hissed: “I want you to walk the damned plank…!”
In the chambers of the U.S. Capitol reserved for the Senate Subcommittee on Pacific Affairs, an honored guest was concluding his entreaty.
“… and while Badhnesia is only a tiny island, we are rich in an ancient wisdom and Pacific culture not seen anywhere else on the planet. We believe both our great countries could benefit from free and open relations, and look forward to welcoming American business and tourism.”
The speaker was a debonair man, dusky-skinned with a thin moustache and goatee, very neatly trimmed. He wore traditional Bahdnesian dress, which included a jewel-encrusted headdress and elaborate flowing robes, open in the front to reveal a hairy, virile chest. His teeth were prominently displayed in his ubiquitous smile.
“This chamber thanks you very much, Crown Prince Vikram Satva Boddhi Shankaram,” the chairmen of the subcommittee, Senator Alan Scott arranged some papers on the table in front of him, and glanced over his reading glasses at the prince. “I assure you the Senate of the United States will very carefully consider this proposal to grant Bahdnesia Favored Nation status. But, if I may, this chamber has a few questions. Specifically, we have some concerns over intelligence that suggests the long-defunct terrorist organization known as the Black Dragon Society may be experiencing a resurgence on your island.”
“Preposterous,” Prince Vikram made a dismissive gesture. “The Black Dragon Society was broken at the end of World War Two, by the Justice Society of America. Of course, they held sway over the South Seas with an iron glove, but they never set foot upon Bahdnesia. What interest could they have in our tiny island? We have no industry, no commodities other than our culture… There is no truth in this. In fact, I have heard reports of cultists using that name operating out of your own Fawcett City, U.S.A, no?”
“Hmm.” Alan Scott leveled a penetrating stare at the smaller man, who smiled back innocuously. “That group seems to be an occultic offshoot, and may not even be connected to the Black Dragon Society that terrorized the Pacific Rim for so many years. Either way, we are talking about a dangerous organization, one that would stop at nothing to regain a foothold on the world stage,” Alan’s attention was momentarily diverted when an aide slipped into the chamber, and headed for him. Making her way inconspicuously to the senators’ table, Dolly Dickles was an intense and highly focused woman in her late twenties, who hid her natural beauty with a severe style. She wanted nothing to distract from her utter devotion to Senator Scott, a fact which Senator Scott often found uncomfortable and embarrassing. He had known Dolly all her life, indeed had been best friends with her late grandfather. “We take this intelligence very seriously, and will want to send an exploratory committee to Bahdnesia to investigate before we normalize relations.”
“Yes, yes, we would be only too happy to host you in the Royal Palace itself. I will have my people arrange the affair. You will be showered with all of the blessings that Bahdnesia has to offer,”
“That isn’t necessary, your highness…” Alan read the note Dolly had just slipped him, and his voice trailed off. He looked over his shoulder at her, and was heard by a nearby senator to whisper: “You’ve got to be kidding me,” a sentiment he was disabused of by the expression on Dolly’s face.
Alan cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, honored guests, I’m afraid something has come up and we must adjourn for now. My apologies, Crown Prince. I am very much looking forward to the State Dinner tomorrow night at the White House, and perhaps we can get better acquainted then.”
With a rap of his gavel, he rose and followed Dolly out of the chamber.
With a mighty heave, Hawkman bashed together the heads of the final two pirates on the Torch balcony, and ignoring the grateful acclamations of the hostages, he glanced up at Jade; she was using her power pulse to blast the explosive charges off the Statue of Liberty, leaving behind only greasy black smudges. Hawkman groaned--- was she trying to set them off?
As he was taking to the air to stop her from blowing them all to kingdom come, he saw that Hourman was teetering on the edge of the Aeronautilus--- and about ready to take a step into nothing! Hawkman reversed his flight, and shot towards the airship, wondering which of his teammates was going to get him killed first.
“Stay back, Hawkman!” the Sky Pirate called to the hero as he rose over the deck of the airship, fists clenched. “Another move and I’ll open up her throat. In fact, if the Man of the Hour doesn’t take another step in the next ten seconds, I’m going to do it anyway, then we can have our go, my fine feathered friend.”
“I have a counter offer for you, Sky Pirate,” Hawkman said between clenched teeth. “How about you drop that sword and surrender, and I won’t pound you into paste?”
Sky Pirate looked crestfallen. “Empty threats? I expected better from you, birdbrain.”
There was a whoosh of wind, and a red blur passed in front of the villain, forcing him to shake his head in sudden confusion. The cutlass disappeared from his hand--- reappearing in the hand of Jay Garrick, who skidded to a halt on the deck of the ship.
“Hawkman never makes empty threats.” He glared at the stunned Sky Pirate, then tossed over his shoulder: “Sorry I’m late.”
“Just in time from where I’m standing,” Hourman piped up.
“RAWR!” Hawkman bellowed and flew headlong at the Sky Pirate, who couldn’t turn tail and run fast away enough.
Just then an explosion rocked the Aeronautilus, causing it to list dangerously. Hourman almost fell overboard, but was able to scramble back up the deck. All eyes turned to the Statue, where a fireball had just blossomed at the place where Lady Liberty’s upraised arm met her shoulder. The civilians on the Torch balcony began screaming, as the arm started to tilt, and fall, breaking away from the rest of the body.
Knocked senseless by the explosion she had triggered, Jade had fallen out of the sky, into the harbor.
A lot of innocent people were about to die.
Without a second thought, Hawkman reversed his flight, and soared towards the falling arm, but he knew with horrified certainty that not even his Nth Metal-enhanced strength would be enough to save those people. Nevertheless, he dove beneath the falling metal, and placed his hands flat against it, straining with all of his might.
The metal creaked and screamed, its sudden descent slowed--- but not stopped. The weight of the colossal arm bore down on Hawkman, who poured every last ounce of will and energy into staying aloft…
But it wasn’t going to be enough. The harbor was approaching fast and the screams of the innocent victims filled the air.
There was a brilliant flash of emerald light, and inches from the water, Hawkman’s burden was lifted! Awash in a green glow, the giant arm rose effortlessly into the air, much to the frantic relief of the victims. Green Lantern hung in the sky, his ring hand outstretched, as he guided the arm back to its place on the Statute. Onlookers cheered wildly, and Hawkman sighed gratefully, watching as Alan welded the arm back onto the Statue.
Now, Carter thought with grim satisfaction, I have a promise to keep.
On the deck of the Aeronautilus, Flash and Hourman were making short work of crewmen, and Carter spotted the Sky Pirate, running to the old-fashioned helmsman’s wheel. Carter swooped down, and plucked the villain up, holding him by his underarms as he climbed higher and higher, into the sky.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just drop you right now,” he snarled to the vainly struggling Sky Pirate, as they passed the cloud level.
“Because that’s not what you do,” the Sky Pirate retorted, sounding--- for all the world--- amused.
“Just because I’m a superhero doesn’t mean I’m a saint,” Hawkman warned him. “I’m not like some of the others. I’ve lived too many lives, seen too many horrors. I’ve killed before when the greater good was at stake… And you almost killed a lot of people back there.”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” the Sky Pirate grinned up at Carter. “You won’t drop me because you don’t drop me. You see, this is only the first of our many encounters, Hawkman. The JSA and the Sky Pirate shall meet again! Many times, in fact. And you don’t always come out ahead. In fact, in a way, I will be the last criminal you face.”
Hawkman stared down at him, unconvinced.
“See you in the 853rd Century!”
With that, the Sky Pirate pressed a button on his sleeve and an electrical pulse ran through his clothing, causing Hawkman to release him. The villain fell, blowing a kiss up at his enemy--- then he vanished as if wiped from existence.
“… and with the defeat of its captain and crew, the enormous airship dubbed the Aeronautilus simply vanished into thin air, leaving a stunned but victorious JSA behind to---.”
Ray Terrill turned off the TV with the remote control, and leaned back in the recliner. Like Starman, he had been hit by the Sky Pirate’s hypersonic disruptor, only he had gotten a longer dose of it and was still sore. He had been forced to admit: rushing in without back-up had proved a very bad move.
Most of the younger members of the JSA were gathered with Ray in the private study just outside the meeting room--- which was significant because the older members were on the other side of the door, and Hawkman looked mad.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we,” Jade bit her lip, speaking to no one in particular. She paced the Persian carpet, unable to relax. Her brother Todd was playing pool with Cameron Mahkent, both of whom were not looking all that concerned.
“What can they do to us, sis? So what Jo and Artemis got into it a little? And I know the fight with the Sky Pirate didn’t go too smoothly, but we sent him packing in the end, that’s what matters.”
“It was a disaster,” Rick Tyler lamented, pounding his fist on the arm of the couch, Jesse Chambers snuggled up to his side. “I mean, we were a total mess. If Hawkman hadn’t been there, and if the Flash and GL hadn’t shown up…”
“Has anyone even heard from Deanna?” David Knight asked, from where he waited, arms crossed, by the door.
“I don’t think she’s coming back, David.” Jo Pratt said in a tentative voice. She leaned against a wall, and didn’t look at anybody. “I tried to talk to her but she was pretty upset. She said she would call you when she got back to Fawcett City…”
Sitting on a stool, idly spinning a dagger by its point on the bar top, Artemis Crock rolled her eyes.
At that moment, the door to the meeting room opened up and the Flash beckoned for them all to come inside. The expression on his face was stern but not without compassion.
The founders watched their younger protégés file in, all of them now, even Cam and Artemis, wearing expressions of solemn contrition. Only Dr. Fate and Sandman were absent. Hawkman was the only one of them standing; it didn’t bode well that he hadn’t removed his mask.
“The Justice Society of America,” the chairman said without preamble, “has a grave and long-standing responsibility to the world. We are the ones who put our lives on the line for others. The people we protect expect us to be there when things go wrong. When great evil and injustice arises, we are the ones who arise against it. And we have a greater responsibility: to ensure that our mission endures, that those who would wear our mantles are prepared to carry on this solemn and important legacy.” He paused a moment, his eyes behind the lenses of his mask looking at each of the younger members in turn. “After what happened today, it is clear to us that we may have been hasty in putting you youngsters in the field---.”
“Youngsters?” Artemis took exception to the implied condescension, but Hawkman ignored her and went on.
“So after a unanimous vote, and effective immediately, you are all off the active duty roster.”
It took a second for that to sink in--- then they all starting talking at once.
“I can’t believe it…” exclaimed Jesse in astonishment.
“This is bunk!” Ray retorted angrily. “I mean, don’t we get a second chance---.”
“You’re firing us?” Artemis demanded. “That’s fine with me, Cam and I are practically prisoners here anyway---.”
“Shaddup.” Wildcat said over all of them, but he pointed his finger at Tigress. “And this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, ya juvenile delinquent.”
“Wildcat’s right,” the Flash spoke up, in a tone he used to smooth ruffled feathers. “No one is being fired here, or cut loose. We’re doing this for your own good. Some of you almost got killed out there. And some of you almost got others killed. It isn’t fair to you to throw you to the wolves, and expect you to perform like you’ve been doing this for years… If we expect you to carry on our legacies after we’re gone, we have to do our part to get you there.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” a sullen Ray asked.
“It means we’re taking the targets off your backs,” Green Lantern told them. “All of you will be relocating to JSA Academy.”
“In Westchester?” Rick Tyler groaned. “That’s, like, a million miles away from the action,”
“It’s where you will get the training you need to become the heroes you have to be.” Captain Marvel answered in a quiet, reasonable tone. “Michael Holt is already there retro-fitting the house with state-of-the-art facilities and Ma Hunkel will go along as headmistress of JSA Academy. We will all do our part helping to forge you into the heroes of tomorrow. Hawkman has even approached others to help out: just wait until your first armed combat training with Wonder Woman…”
“When do we get to come back,” Jesse stuck out her chin, not liking it, but seeing the sense in it.
“When you’re ready,” Hawkman interjected. “A month. A year. Maybe never for some of you. I’ll be damned if I see any of you killed in the line of duty. How could I explain that to Libby and Johnny? Or to Rex and Wendi? To any of your parents…?” He paused, his throat catching. When he spoke again, the resolve in his voice was clear. “We’ll teach you how to use your powers. We’ll hone your skills and tactical judgment. We’ll make you better heroes--- and we’ll make damn sure we give you a fighting chance at living long enough to train the next generation. The Justice Society of America has survived this long; it will be up to you to see that it’s going strong into the next age.”
A sullen silence followed. They didn’t like it, but most of them--- deep down--- thought it was for the best. And they knew it would be useless to argue anyway.
But Hawkman wasn’t done. He took off his mask now, shaking out his shaggy, sweaty hair. He looked tired, his eyes haunted…
“One more thing. Ever since I was freed from the Nth Force last year, I’ve spent my time with Alan, Jay, Wes and Ted putting this team back together. For as long as I can remember, the JSA has been the focus of my life, but always in the past I had Shiera at my side. Now that she’s gone, and now that the JSA is back on its feet, I think it’s time I tried to put my life back together. It’s been a while since I was just Carter Hall. I’d like to find out what my place is in the 21st century. So, also effective immediately, I am resigning as chairman of the Justice Society.”
This announcement was greeted with stunned looks and murmurs of disbelief. The older members, who had been told already, wore solemn expressions. This was the end of an era for them. Hawkman had led the team since their earliest days, guided them through their greatest struggles.
“You’re kidding me!” said Ray.
“You’re quitting?” gasped Obsidian.
“I’m not quitting, I’m just taking a break.” Hawkman explained, already looking like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “If the JSA needs me, I will be there. But for now, consider me a reserve member. At least for the time being.”
“But--- who will be chairman…?” sputtered Jade, barely able to believe the news. The JSA without Hawkman didn’t seem right.
“We’ve discussed it,” Hawkman indicated the older members seated, and picked up from the table in front of him the ceremonial gavel--- given to him by an old friend in 1939, and held it for a moment, as if clinging to a fond memory. “Any one of the men sitting here is qualified, but we all agree that there is one with the wisdom and nobility of spirit we all look to for inspiration. By unanimous decision, the new Chairman of the Justice Society of America is Captain Marvel.”
Unable to keep from blushing, Cap rose and clasped hands with Hawkman, a bright look in his eyes. Jay Garrick and Alan Scott started clapping, and soon everyone joined in, with Wildcat hooting and whistling for good measure. Hawkman passed the gavel to the new chairman and whispered: “Your father gave me this. You make him proud. You make us all proud.”
Tears slid unabashedly down the cheeks of the World’s Mightiest Mortal. The cheering continued for a long time.
Later that night, after the young All-Stars had gone, and Hawkman had left to visit his son in St Roch, the remaining members of the Justice Society lingered behind to discuss business.
“And then there were four,” sighed Wildcat, at last free to prop his feet up on the meeting room table. He twisted the cap off a beer, and took a long pull.
“You’re forgetting Sandman and Doctor Fate,” Green Lantern pointed out. “So six.”
Flash stood, gesturing to the door as two figures entered. “Looks like we’re eight,” he noted.
Power Girl and Commander Steel crossed the distance to the table, as both Green Lantern and Captain Marvel rose as well to greet them.
“Hank and I talked about it some more,” The busty blonde powerhouse told them ruefully, “And if your offer is still good, we’d like to join the team.”
“I am so glad you reconsidered!” Flash shook hands with both of them, beaming broadly. “Of course the offer is still good.”
“We are very glad to have you aboard,” reiterated Captain Marvel.
“We couldn’t be prouder than to serve with the JSA.” Said Commander Steel, with a solemn, serious expression. “I think this is where we belong.”
“Damn straight,” Wildcat, who hadn’t bothered to get up, drained his beer, and saluted them with the empty bottle. “After our recent shake-up, it’s nice to have a good-lookin’ broad back on the team.”
Power Girl looked at Wildcat with appalled astonishment. “Good-lookin’ broad…?”
Before the inevitable explosion, a pillar of smoke appeared in the room, and Doctor Fate emerged from it. Power Girl and Commander Steel, unused to his entrances, were momentarily taken aback. But Doctor Fate glanced at them approvingly, and said <I see we are assembled, finally. Welcome Karen Starr and Henry Heywood III.>
“You knew they would join the team?” Green Lantern asked as the sorcerer motioned them all to take their seats at the great table.
<Knew it? No… I have merely felt their presence among us to be in accordance with the attenuations of Order.> Fate intoned sonorously. <Perhaps Kent Nelson could have explained it better, but no matter. We have a serious matter to deal with: I fear a crisis is upon us.>
“A crisis?” Captain Marvel’s voice was surprised but steady: he had been chairman for an hour, but he was ready for this. “Tell us.”
The JSA sat at attention around the table, as Doctor Fate withdrew from his cloak a spherical crystal, its depths swirling with smoke. He set it down upon the table, directing their attention to it.
<Behold the Orb of Hotash, the crystallized eye of a long-dead Lemurian arcanist,> he waved a gloved hand over it, and images began to form within the glass. <It is used to pierce the veil of time and space, and I was using it to search for our missing comrades when I came upon this.> With a gesture, the sorcerer conjured smoke from the Orb, causing it to funnel up over the table. As the JSA looked up at the display, figures appeared in the smoke, gazing down upon them as if staring back, but unable to see the heroes.
The figures in the smoke were very familiar--- but not, at the same time. One was clearly Superman, but there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and gray at his temples. He was moving his lips, talking… Wonder Woman was there, too, but while she looked no less beautiful, there was a hitherto unseen maturity and gravity to her. And was the grizzled, iron-haired man with the moustache Bruce Wayne…? Shimmering in and out of the image were others, including a regal-looking and bearded Aquaman, an outlandishly-shaped Martian Manhunter, and someone who could have been the Flash…
“Holy Moley,” breathed Captain Marvel. “Is that…?”
But with another wave of his hand, Doctor Fate allowed them to hear what Superman was saying.
“… repeat, this is the former Justice League of America of what you would call Earth Two, and this is an emergency! Please, if this message gets through to Earth One, something awful has happened and we need help: we are facing a grave crisis! Repeat, this is the JLA of Earth Two…!”
In a compartment in a rear car lurked the Sandman, while a jackbooted Der Sturmer strode by. The Nazi stormtrooper, who was an exact genetic duplicate of the original, had a rifle at the ready but was not on his guard; he was merely checking on the precious cargo purchased earlier that night from a rogue Pokolistani general. As he passed, he acquired a shadow, one who was accustomed to moving silently and remaining unseen.
Find the Fourth Reich, Hawkman had tasked him. You have connections all over the world, Wes, one of them should pay off. Find out what those Nazis are up to, and report back as soon as you can. Don’t try to take them on yourself--- this is just an intelligence mission. We need to know what we’re up against.
Wes had picked up the trail in Modora, where he had gotten word of a large cash transaction taking place. The money was coming from the Von Bach family, but laundered through a Markovian bank. They were buying something big from beyond the former Iron Curtain, and Wesley Dodds was not leaving until he found out what it was.
The Der Sturmer dupe pushed open a final door, and walked through. The train-car was a simply a windowless hold with a single swinging light, swaying with the motion of the train; metal glinted in the darkness. A sound behind him alerted Der Sturmer; he whirled about--- in time to catch the butt end of the Sandman’s gas-gun square in the dark plastic faceplate of his helmet. The Nazi staggered back, trying to raise his rifle. But it was too late: the faceplate cracked, the dupe was already getting a lungful of the noxious green gas spewing relentlessly from the Sandman’s gun.
{Be grateful, Nazi, that this night you will be visited only with nightmares,} Wes advanced into the car, as the trooper choked and dropped to his knees. {Instead of the violence and hatred you and your kind would visit upon others.}
In the swaying light of the single lamp, the Sandman gazed around the hold. At first he thought that the car was filled with two rows of armored men, but upon a closer look the armor was empty. And he recognized its make: these were Rocket Reds. Or at least, they had been. Old Soviet-era super-soldier tech, long abandoned to the break-away republics, like Pokolistan. Wes dragged the unconscious dupe to a corner, then crept to the next car; it too was filled with Rocket Red armor. As was the next one. This was not good. There must have been enough armor here to outfit several battalions…
The Fourth Reich was planning something big.
“Fool.” Rumbled a deep, arrogant voice. In the doorway of the car Wes had just come from was the big bruiser known as Von Bach the Masterman. He was a giant, his bare chest tattooed in a thick swastika. He was flanked by two armed Der Sturmers, both of whom had their rifles trained on Wes.
“Whatever one stormtrooper sees, all his brothers see, too.” Masterman told him with a gap-toothed grin. “Will make for a nice tactical advantage on the battlefield, don’t you think?” Cracking his knuckles, he advanced menacingly.
Wes leveled his gas gun, but Masterman seemed unconcerned. A jet of green gas enveloped his head, causing him only to cough a little, and continue to come-on, the troopers lingering behind to watch the fun.
“The chemical cocktail coursing through my body right now makes me immune to your pathetic knockout gas,” the Nazi explained, as Wes backed away. Indeed, the bulging veins on Masterman’s biceps and necks were etched in black. “It’s what’s also going to give me the strength to tear you limb from limb, untermensch.”
{In your dreams.} Wes reached for a rack of armor and pulled at it hard. The whole load came crashing down atop Masterman, blocking his way forward. The Nazi swore in frustration, smashing the armor aside, even as the troopers opened fire. Muzzle-fire lit up the hold and bullets pinged off the red and white armor. But the Sandman was already on the move, ducking out the back door, into the next car, yanking the door closed behind him, just as bullets slammed into it. It was another hold filled with Rocket Red armor--- and this time, there was no exit on the other end.
End of the line, Wes, he told himself, holstering his gas gun, and searching around for an idea. That’s when he saw the hatch on the ceiling. With the Nazis seconds away from bursting in, he leaped atop a rack of armor, and threw open the hatch. Bullets whistled past his feet just as he finished pulling himself onto the roof of the car!
The rushing air took his hat as he scrambled for his balance. The night was cloudless and lit by a full moon, illuminating the river valley over which the train-tracks ran. The bridge was hundreds of feet above the river--- he would not survive the fall. So he ran, hunched over against the wind, not looking down, up towards the front of the train.
A hatch directly in his path opened up, and the spiked helm of a trooper poked his head up. Wes leaped over the obstacle, just as the Nazi opened fire. The bullets shredded his trenchcoat, but he landed unscathed, pausing only to send a whirling back-kick clumsily at the shooter; the trooper fell back into the car.
Wesley Dodds had been in tighter jams, but not that many. And he had been younger then, able to withstand the punishment of such an escapade. Every muscle protested, but he continued to scramble forward, even as he heard the voices from behind him, felt the bullets whizzing dangerously close; the Nazis were on his tail, and he had nowhere to go.
Up ahead, two cars forward, another hatch opened, and Masterman pulled himself onto the roof of the train. Wes halted, glancing backward: at least five troopers, all armed, were less than three cars away, holding their fire as not to hit Von Bach.
“You’re not getting off this train alive, Sandman!” Masterman taunted, his cruel voice pitched to carry over the roar of the wind and the rattle of the train. He stomped forward, flexing his man-killing hands.
It only took Wes a second to get the measure of Von Bach. The so-called Masterman was a killer, and Wes knew he would not last long in a toe-to-toe. A brief glance down at the river was enough to give Wes vertigo, and set his arms pinwheeling for balance--- because he had just seen something he had not seen in decades, something that he had never expected to see again...
{We’re going to stop you,} he yelled at Von Bach, drawing another weapon from inside his shoulder holster. Michael Holt had perfected the Wirepoon gun, and no longer was the grapple necessary: it now shot a snub-nosed bolt, attached to a high-tensile microfilament, that would bond electro-chemically with whatever was hit. Wes pointed it at Masterman, temporarily halting the villain’s advance. {Wherever the Fourth Reich goes, the JSA will be there. Tell your new Fuhrer: sleep lightly because we are coming for him.}
Masterman snarled, and Wesley fired. But at the last moment, he adjusted his aim, shooting his line out over the side, past the villain. But Masterman was too stunned to notice. For at that moment, he was cowering down, away from the strange craft that had arisen soundlessly out of the river below, shedding water and flying parallel with the speeding train. The wirepoon-lead connected with it, and Wes leaped, swinging from the roof of the car out into space, just as the craft angled away.
Bullets from the troopers bounced harmlessly off the hull of the Gyrosub, and soon it was out of range. Dangling from the wirepoon-lead like the tail of a kite, the Sandman slowly pulled himself towards the opened cockpit, glancing over his shoulder at the train dwindling into the distance.
“Close call,” noted the pilot, dressed in familiar garb--- though the voice was much different.
Wes climbed into the spacious cockpit and collapsed into a chair, as the cockpit hatch slid closed. He tore off his mask, gasping for breath, his adrenalin still pumping.
“Let me guess: you’re the new Spy Smasher?”
“You got it, old man.” The pilot turned and gave Wes a smile. “But you can call me Katrina. Katrina Armstrong.” She tossed back a long, golden ponytail, and gave him a bold and appraising look. “And it looks like I caught up to you just in time…”
Justice Society of America
Issue #6: “Rampage of the Sky Pirate, Part Two”
Written by David Charlton
Cover and Who's Who Pin-up by Alex Vasquez
Endpiece art by Jamie Rimmer
Edited by David Charlton
Issue #6: “Rampage of the Sky Pirate, Part Two”
Written by David Charlton
Cover and Who's Who Pin-up by Alex Vasquez
Endpiece art by Jamie Rimmer
Edited by David Charlton
JSA Roll Call!
Hawkman (Carter Hall): Reincarnated champion of justice, this Winged Avenger is master of Thanagarian Nth Metal and his own destiny!
Captain Marvel (Billy Batson):With one magic word, the World’s Mightiest Mortal battles the enemies of man with the power of Shazam!
Green Lantern (Alan Scott): Dark things cannot stand the light of the original Emerald Gladiator!
Bulleteer (Deanna Barr): Daughter of Golden Age heroes Bulletman and Bulletgirl, thanks to her father’s experiments she can transform her body into an indestructible, gravity-defying Nth Metal alloy!
Flash (Jay Garrick): The emotional core of the team, this original super-speedster is proud to mentor the next generation of heroes!
Atomika (Jo Morgan Pratt): Daughter of the original Atom, this Mighty Maid packs a nuclear wallop!
Wildcat (Ted Grant): The champ with nine lives, always ready to deliver the knockout punch to crime!
Jade (Jennie-Lynn Scott): Daughter of Alan Scott, she has internalized the power of the Green Flame, and just may be one of the most powerful beings in the universe!
Obsidian (Todd Scott): Son of Alan Scott, he controls the dark flipside of the Starheart, the Shadowlands, the quintessence of terror!
Sandman (Wesley Dodds): Donning a gas mask and a fedora, this haunted dreamer delivers the sleep of the just to wrongdoers!
Cyclone (Jesse Chambers): Daughter of Golden Age heroes Liberty Belle and Jesse Quick, when she speaks the formula 3X2(9YZ)4A, she becomes the fastest woman alive!
Ray (Ray Terrill): Son of the Golden Age Ray, this brash young hero dazzles with the power of pure light and his razor-sharp wit!
Starman (David Knight): Son of the Golden Age Starman, the newest wielder of the Cosmic Rod inherits a proud legacy of heroism and sacrifice!
Doctor Fate (James Brendan Corrigan): Separated from the Spectre, the ghost of Jim Corrigan dons the magical artifacts of his missing friend Kent Nelson as an agent of the balance between Order and Chaos!
Icicle (Cameron Mahkent): Son of the original Golden Age villain, he needs no ice-gun to shoot freezing blasts or send the temperature plummeting!
Tigress (Artemis Crock): Daughter of an illicit affair between Wildcat and the Golden Age villainess the Huntress, she is a master of exotic weaponry and a dozen fighting styles!
Hourman (Rick Tyler):The brand-new Man of the Hour, a Miraclo-powered dynamo!
“A-ha!” Cried the Sky Pirate, as he threw back the flaps of his longcoat, and jabbed the button on his big, brass belt buckle. Waves of distortion radiated from the buckle, and Starman, who had been diving in for the kill, was caused to veer off course in confusion, crashing into the deck of the Aeronautilus.
Moored to the Statue of Liberty with grapples, the airship bobbed in the air over New York Harbor, with most of the city looking on. The Sky Pirate had lured the JSA out after him, and was on the verge of destroying a priceless national symbol unless the helmet of the Flash, the ring of Green Lantern and the mace of Hawkman were surrendered to him.
And only seconds ago, his henchmen had thrown the limp body of the Ray overboard.
“Jade!” Hawkman, too far away to help the Ray, yelled to his teammate, then dove in to rescue Starman.
Jade, who had been towing Hourman and Cyclone in a glowing green bubble, responded to the emergency with admirable alacrity: she scooped the falling Ray out of the air with a catcher’s mitt--- but distracted by the urgency of Ray’s situation, she had allowed the bubble holding Hourman and Cyclone to dissolve! They plummeted towards the water, their surprised screams echoing out over the harbor.
Laughing uproariously, the Sky Pirate turned to face Hawkman head-on, leveling his two antique-looking flintlocks at the Winged Avenger. Sizzling bolts of energy stabbed at Hawkman, who tucked his wings in tight, corkscrewed in, and strafed the deck of the Aeronautilus. The Sky Pirate proved more nimble than he looked, leaping away at the last instant, so that the mace rang off a metal bulkhead. Checking to make sure his hat was still intact, the Sky Pirate scrambled down a hatch, disappearing below.
Starman was climbing unsteadily to his feet, still disoriented by the Sky Pirate’s attack. Raising his cosmic rod, he attempted to lift off, but found himself suddenly smothered with heavy netting; chortling crewmembers snagged him out of the air, and yanked him back to the deck like a struggling marlin.
By the time Jade realized what she had done, she was already setting the unconscious Ray down on the dock, where paramedics were standing by. Luckily, Cyclone was thinking fast: grabbing Hourman’s hand in hers, with the other hand she created a whirlwind that slowed their descent. When they hit the water, she took him in both arms, and sped over the surface of the harbor, towards the Statue.
“What’s that, the third time you’ve saved my life?” Hourman gazed at her admiringly.
Jesse Chambers gave him a lopsided grin. “Where would you be without me, handsome?”
They were a streak of light across the water, up the front of the Statue and onto the floating airship.
By that time, Hawkman had landed on the deck, and was wading through the dozens off crewmen to get to Starman. With gritted teeth, he distracted them and deflected energy blasts with the ball of his mace, which was blackened now and pitted, almost useless. Hourman plowed into the pirates like a bulldozer, scattering them like ten-pins. In a blink, the vainly struggling Starman was whisked from his tormentors, and was clear across the deck when Cyclone paused to pull the netting from him.
“Leaving so soon? Do stay awhile, my dears!”
The Sky Pirate had reappeared, from out of a hatch close-by Jesse and David, this time with something like a bazooka on his shoulder. The weapon’s recoil caused the Sky Pirate to stagger backward, but he kept his footing as he surveyed the damage it had caused. Cyclone and Starman appeared relatively unhurt--- only they weren’t moving. They were frozen in place, with expressions of surprise on their faces. Chortling, the Sky Pirate let the strange bazooka fall to the deck, and sauntered up to the immobile heroes.
“I was saving that beauty for the Flash, but you rotters’ll do,” he tweaked Jesse’s cheek, and studied her face. “That was a time-decelerator cannon. At this rate, you ought to be able to manage one blink every hour or so. Particularly useful on speedsters. You know, I’ve spent hours wondering what hilarious positions I would pose someone in, and now I can’t make up my mind… I’ll bet this never happened to the Joker. A crackpot, yes--- but extremely creative!”
“Jesse!”
The Sky Pirate gave a startled jump, and turned to see a frantic Hourman barreling down at him. Henchmen tried to interpose themselves, but Hourman just hurled them aside, not pausing even as one clung to his leg to drag him backward.
“Hourman, no!” Hawkman yelled in frustration, even as the Sky Pirate drew from his coat a cutlass that seemed to be too long to have been hidden there. The villain saluted Hourman with a flourish, then swished the blade, prepared for the fight.
Hawkman leaped into the air, dodging the nets that flew after him, even as Jade appeared, ready for action.
“Save the hostages, damn it!” Hawkman called to her, pointing to the Torch balcony, where a dozen screaming civilians were being terrorized by a handful of cackling crewmen. “We’ve got to disarm the explosives!” The entire Statue was wired to blow--- and it could go off any minute.
Despite the fact that he had a henchman clinging to his left leg, one on his right bicep, and he was dragging one who had his arms around his waist, Hourman had reached the Sky Pirate. But instead of engaging the snarling hero, the Sky Pirate turned his cutlass on the frozen heroes next to him. The point hovered a millimeter away from Cyclone’s exposed throat, and the Sky Pirate challenged Hourman with one arched eyebrow. Hourman stopped short, appalled, his hangers-on panting with the exertion of trying to hold him back.
“Seems I’ve found your Achilles’ Heel, hero,” mused the Sky Pirate. “You fancy the wench, huh? I do admit, she does have a certain charm. If you like fast women, that is.” The villain giggled at his own joke.
“Don’t you touch her,” Hourman rasped.
“Oh, I’ll do more than touch her--- and him!” He indicated Starman, as well. “If you don’t do exactly what I say, right now.”
Hourman’s jaw clenched. A quick glance showed Hawkman and Jade busy rescuing the hostages and saving the Statue. He was on his own for the moment. “What do you want?”
“Dear boy, I want what every good pirate wants of his enemies,” Sky Pirate smiled drolly, but a deadly seriousness was behind his hard eyes. He pointed to the edge of the deck, and the fatal drop below, and viciously hissed: “I want you to walk the damned plank…!”
*******
In the chambers of the U.S. Capitol reserved for the Senate Subcommittee on Pacific Affairs, an honored guest was concluding his entreaty.
“… and while Badhnesia is only a tiny island, we are rich in an ancient wisdom and Pacific culture not seen anywhere else on the planet. We believe both our great countries could benefit from free and open relations, and look forward to welcoming American business and tourism.”
The speaker was a debonair man, dusky-skinned with a thin moustache and goatee, very neatly trimmed. He wore traditional Bahdnesian dress, which included a jewel-encrusted headdress and elaborate flowing robes, open in the front to reveal a hairy, virile chest. His teeth were prominently displayed in his ubiquitous smile.
“This chamber thanks you very much, Crown Prince Vikram Satva Boddhi Shankaram,” the chairmen of the subcommittee, Senator Alan Scott arranged some papers on the table in front of him, and glanced over his reading glasses at the prince. “I assure you the Senate of the United States will very carefully consider this proposal to grant Bahdnesia Favored Nation status. But, if I may, this chamber has a few questions. Specifically, we have some concerns over intelligence that suggests the long-defunct terrorist organization known as the Black Dragon Society may be experiencing a resurgence on your island.”
“Preposterous,” Prince Vikram made a dismissive gesture. “The Black Dragon Society was broken at the end of World War Two, by the Justice Society of America. Of course, they held sway over the South Seas with an iron glove, but they never set foot upon Bahdnesia. What interest could they have in our tiny island? We have no industry, no commodities other than our culture… There is no truth in this. In fact, I have heard reports of cultists using that name operating out of your own Fawcett City, U.S.A, no?”
“Hmm.” Alan Scott leveled a penetrating stare at the smaller man, who smiled back innocuously. “That group seems to be an occultic offshoot, and may not even be connected to the Black Dragon Society that terrorized the Pacific Rim for so many years. Either way, we are talking about a dangerous organization, one that would stop at nothing to regain a foothold on the world stage,” Alan’s attention was momentarily diverted when an aide slipped into the chamber, and headed for him. Making her way inconspicuously to the senators’ table, Dolly Dickles was an intense and highly focused woman in her late twenties, who hid her natural beauty with a severe style. She wanted nothing to distract from her utter devotion to Senator Scott, a fact which Senator Scott often found uncomfortable and embarrassing. He had known Dolly all her life, indeed had been best friends with her late grandfather. “We take this intelligence very seriously, and will want to send an exploratory committee to Bahdnesia to investigate before we normalize relations.”
“Yes, yes, we would be only too happy to host you in the Royal Palace itself. I will have my people arrange the affair. You will be showered with all of the blessings that Bahdnesia has to offer,”
“That isn’t necessary, your highness…” Alan read the note Dolly had just slipped him, and his voice trailed off. He looked over his shoulder at her, and was heard by a nearby senator to whisper: “You’ve got to be kidding me,” a sentiment he was disabused of by the expression on Dolly’s face.
Alan cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, honored guests, I’m afraid something has come up and we must adjourn for now. My apologies, Crown Prince. I am very much looking forward to the State Dinner tomorrow night at the White House, and perhaps we can get better acquainted then.”
With a rap of his gavel, he rose and followed Dolly out of the chamber.
*******
With a mighty heave, Hawkman bashed together the heads of the final two pirates on the Torch balcony, and ignoring the grateful acclamations of the hostages, he glanced up at Jade; she was using her power pulse to blast the explosive charges off the Statue of Liberty, leaving behind only greasy black smudges. Hawkman groaned--- was she trying to set them off?
As he was taking to the air to stop her from blowing them all to kingdom come, he saw that Hourman was teetering on the edge of the Aeronautilus--- and about ready to take a step into nothing! Hawkman reversed his flight, and shot towards the airship, wondering which of his teammates was going to get him killed first.
“Stay back, Hawkman!” the Sky Pirate called to the hero as he rose over the deck of the airship, fists clenched. “Another move and I’ll open up her throat. In fact, if the Man of the Hour doesn’t take another step in the next ten seconds, I’m going to do it anyway, then we can have our go, my fine feathered friend.”
“I have a counter offer for you, Sky Pirate,” Hawkman said between clenched teeth. “How about you drop that sword and surrender, and I won’t pound you into paste?”
Sky Pirate looked crestfallen. “Empty threats? I expected better from you, birdbrain.”
There was a whoosh of wind, and a red blur passed in front of the villain, forcing him to shake his head in sudden confusion. The cutlass disappeared from his hand--- reappearing in the hand of Jay Garrick, who skidded to a halt on the deck of the ship.
“Hawkman never makes empty threats.” He glared at the stunned Sky Pirate, then tossed over his shoulder: “Sorry I’m late.”
“Just in time from where I’m standing,” Hourman piped up.
“RAWR!” Hawkman bellowed and flew headlong at the Sky Pirate, who couldn’t turn tail and run fast away enough.
Just then an explosion rocked the Aeronautilus, causing it to list dangerously. Hourman almost fell overboard, but was able to scramble back up the deck. All eyes turned to the Statue, where a fireball had just blossomed at the place where Lady Liberty’s upraised arm met her shoulder. The civilians on the Torch balcony began screaming, as the arm started to tilt, and fall, breaking away from the rest of the body.
Knocked senseless by the explosion she had triggered, Jade had fallen out of the sky, into the harbor.
A lot of innocent people were about to die.
Without a second thought, Hawkman reversed his flight, and soared towards the falling arm, but he knew with horrified certainty that not even his Nth Metal-enhanced strength would be enough to save those people. Nevertheless, he dove beneath the falling metal, and placed his hands flat against it, straining with all of his might.
The metal creaked and screamed, its sudden descent slowed--- but not stopped. The weight of the colossal arm bore down on Hawkman, who poured every last ounce of will and energy into staying aloft…
But it wasn’t going to be enough. The harbor was approaching fast and the screams of the innocent victims filled the air.
There was a brilliant flash of emerald light, and inches from the water, Hawkman’s burden was lifted! Awash in a green glow, the giant arm rose effortlessly into the air, much to the frantic relief of the victims. Green Lantern hung in the sky, his ring hand outstretched, as he guided the arm back to its place on the Statute. Onlookers cheered wildly, and Hawkman sighed gratefully, watching as Alan welded the arm back onto the Statue.
Now, Carter thought with grim satisfaction, I have a promise to keep.
On the deck of the Aeronautilus, Flash and Hourman were making short work of crewmen, and Carter spotted the Sky Pirate, running to the old-fashioned helmsman’s wheel. Carter swooped down, and plucked the villain up, holding him by his underarms as he climbed higher and higher, into the sky.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just drop you right now,” he snarled to the vainly struggling Sky Pirate, as they passed the cloud level.
“Because that’s not what you do,” the Sky Pirate retorted, sounding--- for all the world--- amused.
“Just because I’m a superhero doesn’t mean I’m a saint,” Hawkman warned him. “I’m not like some of the others. I’ve lived too many lives, seen too many horrors. I’ve killed before when the greater good was at stake… And you almost killed a lot of people back there.”
“No, that’s not what I mean,” the Sky Pirate grinned up at Carter. “You won’t drop me because you don’t drop me. You see, this is only the first of our many encounters, Hawkman. The JSA and the Sky Pirate shall meet again! Many times, in fact. And you don’t always come out ahead. In fact, in a way, I will be the last criminal you face.”
Hawkman stared down at him, unconvinced.
“See you in the 853rd Century!”
With that, the Sky Pirate pressed a button on his sleeve and an electrical pulse ran through his clothing, causing Hawkman to release him. The villain fell, blowing a kiss up at his enemy--- then he vanished as if wiped from existence.
*******
“… and with the defeat of its captain and crew, the enormous airship dubbed the Aeronautilus simply vanished into thin air, leaving a stunned but victorious JSA behind to---.”
Ray Terrill turned off the TV with the remote control, and leaned back in the recliner. Like Starman, he had been hit by the Sky Pirate’s hypersonic disruptor, only he had gotten a longer dose of it and was still sore. He had been forced to admit: rushing in without back-up had proved a very bad move.
Most of the younger members of the JSA were gathered with Ray in the private study just outside the meeting room--- which was significant because the older members were on the other side of the door, and Hawkman looked mad.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we,” Jade bit her lip, speaking to no one in particular. She paced the Persian carpet, unable to relax. Her brother Todd was playing pool with Cameron Mahkent, both of whom were not looking all that concerned.
“What can they do to us, sis? So what Jo and Artemis got into it a little? And I know the fight with the Sky Pirate didn’t go too smoothly, but we sent him packing in the end, that’s what matters.”
“It was a disaster,” Rick Tyler lamented, pounding his fist on the arm of the couch, Jesse Chambers snuggled up to his side. “I mean, we were a total mess. If Hawkman hadn’t been there, and if the Flash and GL hadn’t shown up…”
“Has anyone even heard from Deanna?” David Knight asked, from where he waited, arms crossed, by the door.
“I don’t think she’s coming back, David.” Jo Pratt said in a tentative voice. She leaned against a wall, and didn’t look at anybody. “I tried to talk to her but she was pretty upset. She said she would call you when she got back to Fawcett City…”
Sitting on a stool, idly spinning a dagger by its point on the bar top, Artemis Crock rolled her eyes.
At that moment, the door to the meeting room opened up and the Flash beckoned for them all to come inside. The expression on his face was stern but not without compassion.
The founders watched their younger protégés file in, all of them now, even Cam and Artemis, wearing expressions of solemn contrition. Only Dr. Fate and Sandman were absent. Hawkman was the only one of them standing; it didn’t bode well that he hadn’t removed his mask.
“The Justice Society of America,” the chairman said without preamble, “has a grave and long-standing responsibility to the world. We are the ones who put our lives on the line for others. The people we protect expect us to be there when things go wrong. When great evil and injustice arises, we are the ones who arise against it. And we have a greater responsibility: to ensure that our mission endures, that those who would wear our mantles are prepared to carry on this solemn and important legacy.” He paused a moment, his eyes behind the lenses of his mask looking at each of the younger members in turn. “After what happened today, it is clear to us that we may have been hasty in putting you youngsters in the field---.”
“Youngsters?” Artemis took exception to the implied condescension, but Hawkman ignored her and went on.
“So after a unanimous vote, and effective immediately, you are all off the active duty roster.”
It took a second for that to sink in--- then they all starting talking at once.
“I can’t believe it…” exclaimed Jesse in astonishment.
“This is bunk!” Ray retorted angrily. “I mean, don’t we get a second chance---.”
“You’re firing us?” Artemis demanded. “That’s fine with me, Cam and I are practically prisoners here anyway---.”
“Shaddup.” Wildcat said over all of them, but he pointed his finger at Tigress. “And this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, ya juvenile delinquent.”
“Wildcat’s right,” the Flash spoke up, in a tone he used to smooth ruffled feathers. “No one is being fired here, or cut loose. We’re doing this for your own good. Some of you almost got killed out there. And some of you almost got others killed. It isn’t fair to you to throw you to the wolves, and expect you to perform like you’ve been doing this for years… If we expect you to carry on our legacies after we’re gone, we have to do our part to get you there.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” a sullen Ray asked.
“It means we’re taking the targets off your backs,” Green Lantern told them. “All of you will be relocating to JSA Academy.”
“In Westchester?” Rick Tyler groaned. “That’s, like, a million miles away from the action,”
“It’s where you will get the training you need to become the heroes you have to be.” Captain Marvel answered in a quiet, reasonable tone. “Michael Holt is already there retro-fitting the house with state-of-the-art facilities and Ma Hunkel will go along as headmistress of JSA Academy. We will all do our part helping to forge you into the heroes of tomorrow. Hawkman has even approached others to help out: just wait until your first armed combat training with Wonder Woman…”
“When do we get to come back,” Jesse stuck out her chin, not liking it, but seeing the sense in it.
“When you’re ready,” Hawkman interjected. “A month. A year. Maybe never for some of you. I’ll be damned if I see any of you killed in the line of duty. How could I explain that to Libby and Johnny? Or to Rex and Wendi? To any of your parents…?” He paused, his throat catching. When he spoke again, the resolve in his voice was clear. “We’ll teach you how to use your powers. We’ll hone your skills and tactical judgment. We’ll make you better heroes--- and we’ll make damn sure we give you a fighting chance at living long enough to train the next generation. The Justice Society of America has survived this long; it will be up to you to see that it’s going strong into the next age.”
A sullen silence followed. They didn’t like it, but most of them--- deep down--- thought it was for the best. And they knew it would be useless to argue anyway.
But Hawkman wasn’t done. He took off his mask now, shaking out his shaggy, sweaty hair. He looked tired, his eyes haunted…
“One more thing. Ever since I was freed from the Nth Force last year, I’ve spent my time with Alan, Jay, Wes and Ted putting this team back together. For as long as I can remember, the JSA has been the focus of my life, but always in the past I had Shiera at my side. Now that she’s gone, and now that the JSA is back on its feet, I think it’s time I tried to put my life back together. It’s been a while since I was just Carter Hall. I’d like to find out what my place is in the 21st century. So, also effective immediately, I am resigning as chairman of the Justice Society.”
This announcement was greeted with stunned looks and murmurs of disbelief. The older members, who had been told already, wore solemn expressions. This was the end of an era for them. Hawkman had led the team since their earliest days, guided them through their greatest struggles.
“You’re kidding me!” said Ray.
“You’re quitting?” gasped Obsidian.
“I’m not quitting, I’m just taking a break.” Hawkman explained, already looking like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “If the JSA needs me, I will be there. But for now, consider me a reserve member. At least for the time being.”
“But--- who will be chairman…?” sputtered Jade, barely able to believe the news. The JSA without Hawkman didn’t seem right.
“We’ve discussed it,” Hawkman indicated the older members seated, and picked up from the table in front of him the ceremonial gavel--- given to him by an old friend in 1939, and held it for a moment, as if clinging to a fond memory. “Any one of the men sitting here is qualified, but we all agree that there is one with the wisdom and nobility of spirit we all look to for inspiration. By unanimous decision, the new Chairman of the Justice Society of America is Captain Marvel.”
Unable to keep from blushing, Cap rose and clasped hands with Hawkman, a bright look in his eyes. Jay Garrick and Alan Scott started clapping, and soon everyone joined in, with Wildcat hooting and whistling for good measure. Hawkman passed the gavel to the new chairman and whispered: “Your father gave me this. You make him proud. You make us all proud.”
Tears slid unabashedly down the cheeks of the World’s Mightiest Mortal. The cheering continued for a long time.
*******
Later that night, after the young All-Stars had gone, and Hawkman had left to visit his son in St Roch, the remaining members of the Justice Society lingered behind to discuss business.
“And then there were four,” sighed Wildcat, at last free to prop his feet up on the meeting room table. He twisted the cap off a beer, and took a long pull.
“You’re forgetting Sandman and Doctor Fate,” Green Lantern pointed out. “So six.”
Flash stood, gesturing to the door as two figures entered. “Looks like we’re eight,” he noted.
Power Girl and Commander Steel crossed the distance to the table, as both Green Lantern and Captain Marvel rose as well to greet them.
“Hank and I talked about it some more,” The busty blonde powerhouse told them ruefully, “And if your offer is still good, we’d like to join the team.”
“I am so glad you reconsidered!” Flash shook hands with both of them, beaming broadly. “Of course the offer is still good.”
“We are very glad to have you aboard,” reiterated Captain Marvel.
“We couldn’t be prouder than to serve with the JSA.” Said Commander Steel, with a solemn, serious expression. “I think this is where we belong.”
“Damn straight,” Wildcat, who hadn’t bothered to get up, drained his beer, and saluted them with the empty bottle. “After our recent shake-up, it’s nice to have a good-lookin’ broad back on the team.”
Power Girl looked at Wildcat with appalled astonishment. “Good-lookin’ broad…?”
Before the inevitable explosion, a pillar of smoke appeared in the room, and Doctor Fate emerged from it. Power Girl and Commander Steel, unused to his entrances, were momentarily taken aback. But Doctor Fate glanced at them approvingly, and said <I see we are assembled, finally. Welcome Karen Starr and Henry Heywood III.>
“You knew they would join the team?” Green Lantern asked as the sorcerer motioned them all to take their seats at the great table.
<Knew it? No… I have merely felt their presence among us to be in accordance with the attenuations of Order.> Fate intoned sonorously. <Perhaps Kent Nelson could have explained it better, but no matter. We have a serious matter to deal with: I fear a crisis is upon us.>
“A crisis?” Captain Marvel’s voice was surprised but steady: he had been chairman for an hour, but he was ready for this. “Tell us.”
The JSA sat at attention around the table, as Doctor Fate withdrew from his cloak a spherical crystal, its depths swirling with smoke. He set it down upon the table, directing their attention to it.
<Behold the Orb of Hotash, the crystallized eye of a long-dead Lemurian arcanist,> he waved a gloved hand over it, and images began to form within the glass. <It is used to pierce the veil of time and space, and I was using it to search for our missing comrades when I came upon this.> With a gesture, the sorcerer conjured smoke from the Orb, causing it to funnel up over the table. As the JSA looked up at the display, figures appeared in the smoke, gazing down upon them as if staring back, but unable to see the heroes.
The figures in the smoke were very familiar--- but not, at the same time. One was clearly Superman, but there were wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and gray at his temples. He was moving his lips, talking… Wonder Woman was there, too, but while she looked no less beautiful, there was a hitherto unseen maturity and gravity to her. And was the grizzled, iron-haired man with the moustache Bruce Wayne…? Shimmering in and out of the image were others, including a regal-looking and bearded Aquaman, an outlandishly-shaped Martian Manhunter, and someone who could have been the Flash…
“Holy Moley,” breathed Captain Marvel. “Is that…?”
But with another wave of his hand, Doctor Fate allowed them to hear what Superman was saying.
“… repeat, this is the former Justice League of America of what you would call Earth Two, and this is an emergency! Please, if this message gets through to Earth One, something awful has happened and we need help: we are facing a grave crisis! Repeat, this is the JLA of Earth Two…!”
