All-Stars #2: The Time Has Come, part 2

Manhattan, 1938
“No you can’t come along, and that’s final, Kent Nelson!” said forty-six year old Philip Nelson in exasperation. The roomy kitchen resounded with the hard voice, and Kent took a step back. Philip looked remorseful, and calmed down. He knelt to face the ten-year-old Kent eye to eye. “I’d love to. You know that. It’s great when I can take you on a dig with me. But this one is dangerous, son. Someone doesn’t want this expedition to go off. It’s why we have armed men going with us.”

“Is it really that bad?” Kent asked, his body trembling now a bit. “Dad, why go then?”

“It’s that bad, Kent. And I have to go, because we can’t let anyone stop the search for history, for knowledge. You remember Carter Hall?”

Kent nodded. “He’s the man leading the dig. He seemed pretty nice.”

”Well, he’s gone missing. Some bad men nabbed him from his h—office. So you’ve got to stay here, okay? Understand why you can’t come with me, Kent?”

Kent nodded slowly, disappointed. “I understand. Be careful, Dad!” he said as he impulsively jumped into his father’s arms and hugged him.

“There, there, son. It’s okay. Things will be fine.” Philip stood up and tousled the youngster’s blond hair. “Now you run off and get ready for school, okay? I’ll drop you off on my way to the museum. Special dinner tonight for us, so you behave, got it?” He smiled as he watched his son run off.

Out in the back yard, watching hidden in shadows of his own making was Degaton. Redheaded, clad in his black uniform dashed here and there in blood red, Degaton watched and grinned. “Bye-bye, Doctor Fate. And Hawkman.” He chuckled and then added, “and Hawkgirl. Three birds with one stone.” He laughed a little louder, stepped into his hidden column of odd metal and vanished from the current of time in a gentle wheeze.


Gotham City, 1941
“The Shadow!” Wonder Woman said in a hushed, concerned voice. “You do exist!” She gripped the hilt of her sword.

“I’ve heard of you,” Captain Marvel said as his eyes narrowed and took in the dark figure, who seemed to melt out of the recesses of the building. “What are you doing here?” He balled his hands into fists and took a step towards the new arrival.

“Stand down, children of the gods,” the Shadow said in a voice that chilled even their blood. “I am not here as your enemy, but your ally. You seek the villain named Degaton, and I do as well. His Red Morgue has plagued the last decade with odd disappearances that finally begin to make sense.”

“What are you talking about?” Wonder Woman asked, her voice tense. She felt distinctly uncomfortable around this man, but she listened anyway.

“Eight men, removed from the world,” the Shadow explained. Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman found themselves unnerved when he appeared at the table in what would have been the conference room just behind them. “Eight men directed away from their courses. The details elude me, but this building and those eight heroes should be bound together. Instead, I find the two of you, a legendary Amazon and a man of tomorrow. I realize that we must work together to resolve this.”

“How do you know I’m from the future?” Captain Marvel asked as he walked over to the dusty, aged table. He leaned forward and tried to stare the man in the eyes, finding himself unable to. “How do you know about the JSA?”

“Because I have the ability to cloud men’s minds,” the Shadow replied. He stepped back into a darkened corner, so that only his piercing eyes and red streak of a scarf were easily visible. “To do that takes a clarity of my own mind that forbids it from being clouded by anything else. Including manipulations of time. I see the hand of Degaton in action. We must stop him.”

”And you know how to find him?” Wonder Woman shot back. “How?”

“I’m a detective, Wonder Woman,” the Shadow answered simply. “And I have many resources for the scouring out of wicked men. I do know where his Red Morgue can be found at the least.”

“Are these people he’s captured, are they there?” Captain Marvel asked. “If so, we have got to make their safety a priority.”

“Unknown, and agreed,” the Shadow answered. “There is an abandoned armory building in Keystone City. It is there that the Red Morgue resides. For some reason, Degaton’s forays into time are easier to launch there.”

“Fine, Keystone City it is then,” Captain Marvel said firmly. “We’ll break up this Red Morgue and retrieve the prisoners. I’ll hit from the air, you two come in on the ground.”

“No,” the Shadow argued. “The Morgue is numerous. Alone, there was little chance I could stop them all and save the prisoners. Now though, things are different. You two save the prisoners. Leave the Morgue to me.”

Captain Marvel and Wonder Woman both prepared to argue, but the hard-set glint of his eyes quelled their arguments. Marvel instead frowned and crossed his arms over the broad chest. “Who are the captives?”


Keystone City, 1937
Jay Garrick was gone. Joan Allen cried hard tears as the emergency crews searched the wreckage of the physics lab. The crowds surrounding the catastrophe stared in stunned silence as the smoking embers and blackened stones littered the ground. School officials talked to fire department officials to piece together what had happened. It all started to become clear. While working on heavy water samples, and preparing to ionize some of them with the linear accelerator, a freak accident had occurred. The destruction was evident, and the lack of a body implied that Jay Garrick might well have been reduced to component atoms.

Joan wept for her boyfriend.

And the red-haired man in the lab coat chuckled as he headed back to the metal cylinder, hidden away from the crowds and containing his latest prize.


Manhattan, 1941
The cloaked man stood watch on the rooftop across the street. The stiff breeze caused the Lincoln green cloak to flutter around him, but his gaze never diverted from the window. He had been here most of the night, waiting to see if his mentor were correct. Things had to go down in perfect order if this were to work.

He reached up with one leather-gauntleted hand, and fiddled at a small dial on the goggles he wore. The morning sun was coming up, and his vision was blurring, so he hit one catch and let the infrared filters drop down and begin displaying other forms of vision. He then moved a second dial, and listened to the clicks as they ticked off magnification for him, finally stopping when his eyesight practically put him into the lab he stared at so intently. Privately funded and operated by Professor Everett Zee, the radical physicist. The cloaked man rubbed his cowled forehead, the thumb rubbing where the white crescent moon sat. He watched as the elder scientist opened up the lab and went to his desk for his notes. Then the watcher let himself smile when the red headed lab assistant walked in and donned his white coat. The pair set themselves to work, and the man called Doctor Mid-Nite continued to wait patiently.


Newark, 1939
Miles Gregory was an unhappy man as he stared into the laboratory. He was fuming to be precise, and his assistant stood with his notebook out as they watched several men in dark suits pack away all the files and equipment they could into boxes.

“If I get my hands on Tyler, I’ll kill him for this!” Gregory snarled. “Can you believe this, Phil? Thanks to Rex Tyler running off and turning traitor, I’ve got to watch the government take it all from me!”

“I can’t believe ole Tick-tock would do that, Mr. Gregory,” Philip Breyer replied in a quiet, distressed voice. Rex and he had been friends for years, and this was upsetting him. “He’s a patriot. And he’s honest as the day is long. For him to be a Nazi sympathizer and spy? That’s just not right, sir.”

“Well tell the damned government that!” Miles snapped back. “I’m ruined! They’re snatching everything to see what they can do to stop Tyler! I hope they nab him and string him up!” Miles Gregory turned sharply on his heel and stormed off down the hall, leaving a helpless Philip to watch his friend’s work being packed away. Miles angrily shoved past the redheaded ‘government agent’ he passed on the stairs, and Degaton could only grin wickedly as he joined the rest of his men.

“Got everything, fellows?” he asked as they lifted up the boxes.

“Yes, sir,” said one man with a hearty nod.

“Excellent. Let’s move out, we have miles to go.” And he led them away, and left only a stripped room and a stunned Philip Breyer behind.


Keystone City, 1941
The building was squat and built of thick heavy brick. It was fenced off from the world, and looked completely unused. Indeed, as far as the average citizen of Keystone was concerned, it had been unused since the close of the Great War. Within the quiet façade, and down in the bunker-like basements, the activity was intense. The wheezing sounds announcing the arrival of the time machine had red-armored soldiers dashing into the launch room. Degaton stepped out with a smile. He handed a trusted squad leader the sheriff’s badge.

“Secure this in the vault, and you three, go in and secure Mr. Dodds,” Degaton ordered. “It would appear that he lost his way during his trip to the Orient. Poor sod.” He chuckled as he walked over to a bank of electronic devices. He gazed over scanners and papers scrawled with various marks and technical notations. “No JSA. There was no such group ever. Excellent. Commander!” he called out.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a pair of silver stripes over his right shoulder stepped forward and saluted with his fist tapping the insignia. “Yes, sir!”

“You’re men are ready? They’re fully checked out on the newest equipment?” Degaton asked as he turned to face his soldier.

“Yes, sir. The last of the heavy equipment is cleared for use,” the commander reported.

“Good. We can wait for Pearl Harbor to throw the country into a tailspin, and then strike, but even with the weapons, our numbers are small. So we need to make this work, and work quick.” Degaton paced back and forth as he considered things. “We’re days away from the founding of the Degaton Empire, my boy. Have them assemble in the main hall, I would address them personally.” He savored the thrill he got when the soldier saluted again and headed out of the door. “Steps away. I’m just steps away now.”


New York City, 1932
Ted Grant was quite pleased with himself as he stepped into the bathroom of the hotel. He had stripped away his sweaty garb from the earlier fight, and stretched his arms and legs a bit. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and smiled and then ran fingers through the tufts of gray hair just starting to peek out near his temples.

“Ya made the smart call, champ,” he convinced himself. “Go out on top. One last fight. Ya won, and now ya can step back and take it easy.” He started the shower and stepped inside. “Yer gettin’ old, time to let the kids step up.” He was still trying to convince himself when he noticed how tired he felt. His arms felt like lead, and he was having trouble standing straight. “Wow. More punchy then I thought.” He leaned against the wall and shook his head. Then he sniffed, and held his fingers to his nose. He winced and stared at the showerhead. The liquid anesthetic continued to cascade over his body as it sank to the tub floor. “Damn. Don’t that…beat…all…”


Manhattan, 1941
“Degaton!” Professor Zee called out as he finished making notations on the chalkboard. He stepped back and stroked the pointed gray beard on his chin. He made a couple of minor corrections and then stepped to an electrical apparatus. “Degaton! Where are you, boy?” he called out again impatiently.

Degaton dashed into the laboratory and moved over to his employer. “Yes, Dr. Zee? Sorry about that, I was washing test tubes.”

“Whatever,” he answered brusquely. “Listen, we’re going to run a small electrical test, see if we have some of the resistor ratios ironed out at last. So get the generator charged, and set the particle oscillator up, understood?”

”Of course, Professor,” Degaton answered as he bit his lip. He walked away, and stepped into a back area and glanced at the empty space that once held the device Everett Zee was talking about. He shook his head and then pulled the heavy tarp away from the ugly gray box it hid. The oscillator looked perfectly at home in the array of struts, cables, misshapen angular lumps and flashing beacons. It formed a primitive cabinet with room for one person inside it’s rough-hewn interior. “I’d hoped to run my own tests first. Guess that’s not going to happen.” He pulled the gun out of his coat pocket and hefted its weight in his hands. He stared at it, then out the door to the lab and the passing shape of Everett Zee. “Now or never, Per. Do it. Seize the moment. Show Father who the washout is.”


The Canadian Wilderness, 1939
The campsite was in disarray. Men with lanterns and rifles ran around, trying desperately to make sense of what had occurred. The foreman stepped out, a squat older man with unkempt gray hair. He shouted out to one of his men.

“Is it this damned Black Prophet?” Harry Sutchen growled to a man he grabbed by the arm. “Is that what happened?” The man nodded and Sutchen growled in contempt. “Do we know if he had anything to do with Scott’s disappearance?”

”We think so, sir,” he answered his angry boss. “Sir, we can’t keep doing this without the military. The men, they’re scared and they’re running. There’s no sign of Mr. Scott anywhere, and now the tracks are on fire as well.”

“Damn!” Harry growled again as he let the man go. “Okay, okay. We’ll call it off here, and I’ll head back to headquarters. Work this out. Get the men out of here, and back to the nearest town.” He stared out into the darkening woods and shook his head. “Poor Alan. Good man. Really good man. He deserved better than this.”


Keystone City, 1941
Three dozen men in their advanced crimson armor milled around in the long assembly hall. Two doors on either side of the hall had slid shut, while the catwalk at the front of the chamber remained empty, waiting for their leader’s arrival. The rumors and gossip spread across the anxious mercenaries about the impending start of true battle, and energy was high. The door finally opened to allow Degaton to stride out onto the catwalk and look down on his men. He grinned wolfishly, and leaned heavily on the rail.

“Gentlemen, today we stand on the cusp, not only of history, but of remaking history!” he shouted down to his men as they listened to him. “We will shape destiny like clay in our hands!”

The soldiers shouted back a loud hurrah, but it was cut off by a red light flashing, and a siren going off. He stared up in shock at the signal, and snarled. “What’s going on?”

Soon, a guard stumbled through the door Degaton had entered earlier, and looked at his leader. “Sir, it’s the prisoners! There’s a man in red, he’s got a lightning bolt on his chest, he’s freeing them!” he gasped.

“Impossible! We hold Garrick! There can be no Flash without him in the time stream!” Degaton countered.

“Not Flash, sir! This guy’s big, with a white cape, and he flies!” the man sounded panicked at the thought, and Degaton’s eyes widened in rage.

“Captain Marvel! How? He’s decades in the future!” Degaton turned to shout to his men, but his heart suddenly grew chill as laughter sliced over the inhabitants of the room. Thirty-eight pairs of eyes scoured the room frantically as the laughter grew increasingly louder and more wicked.

“Per Degaton! The weed of crime bears bitter fruit!” came the icy voice from nowhere and everywhere. Gunshots cracked from the distance and smashed the lights, leaving only a reddish glow from the signal beacons. Suddenly, men started to collapse from blazing gunfire and crashing fisticuffs, all hidden from sight.

“The Shadow? He’s a myth! A legend! He doesn’t exist!” Degaton insisted as he watched his men try to fight back against the unseen whirlwind. Thirty-six well-trained, futuristically equipped mercenaries faced one lone man of the Thirties with .45s and grim determination, and the odds were never more stacked against the forces of evil.

In short order, some few survivors had fled the scene, but many more lay on the ground, broken and bloodied as Degaton raced out of the room and down the hall. “I still have my time machine. The JSA still doesn’t exist! It doesn’t matter if they’re rescued from here! I can rebuild the Morgue! This isn’t over yet, Shadow!” he shouted out to empty air. “You’ll see!” he swore again as he turned a corner. There he was met with a sword pointed in his direction and he quickly tried to backpedal to avoid the wicked looking blade. He stumbled into a wall and tried to turn around, in time to watch Captain Marvel completing the spherical shape of metal he held in his hands. The smooth gray metal from the far future, so resistant to so much, was like putty in the hands of the World’s Mightiest Mortal. “No!”

“Yes, Degaton. It’s over now,” Captain Marvel said as he tossed the basketball-sized globe of metal over his shoulder. He gave a grin and poked his finger into Degaton’s chest and forced him to fall onto his backside.

“It doesn’t matter! You stopped me for now, but I still have destroyed the JSA! No matter what you do, you can’t repair that damage! Even if you saved them, there’s no way you can restore them and have things return to normal!” He stared at Captain Marvel with maniacal glee. “I’ll get my world in the end, Marvel!”

Captain Marvel looked at Wonder Woman, and then to the arriving Shadow, now visible to Degaton’s eyes. His cloak was ragged and torn, but he looked largely unruffled by the battle. “Unfortunately, it’s true. I can return the JSAers to the past, but it won’t change what’s happened. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has some of the relics that gave out some of their powers either, hidden away some where.”

“I am aware of this, Captain Marvel,” the Shadow said as he raised his right fist. A finger from his left hand started to rub the large glittering ruby set into a heavy golden band on hid ring finger. Then the ruby began to reflect much more light than it was catching. “He is right. He needs to be defeated in the here and now for things to be properly repaired. Now that his men have been scattered, we can trim this wicked tree before it can bear any fruit.”


Manhattan, 1941
Degaton stepped out of the room and pointed the pistol at Professor Zee. “I’m sorry, Everett. But you have to understand, I’m your superior in this. My machine is ready to go, and you can’t be allowed to stop me.”

“Are you mad, man? Do you know what you’re doing? Put that gun down!” Zee was panicking and trying to step away from Degaton, but there was nowhere for him to go.

“Sorry, professor, but you could say my time has come,” Degaton replied as he leveled the weapon at Everett’s chest.

A window shattered and the world suddenly went black around Per Degaton. Out of panic, he pulled the trigger, the flash muzzled quickly by the darkness flooding the room. The shot lodged uselessly in a far wall as Doctor Mid-Nite, unhampered by the darkness, dropped Degaton with single punch. Beneath the glove, the hero could feel his ruby ring tingling, and he knew it was giving off the ember-like glow from his mentor. The time had arrived to strike.

Minutes later, the darkness had lifted, and Dr. Mid-Nite was binding Degaton with rope to a nearby radiator. “Are you okay, Professor?” he asked the scientist, who was slowly crawling out of hiding.

”I…I am. Thank you,” he said in shock.

“My pleasure,” Mid-Nite replied. “Call the police. With this attempt on your life, and the fact that the device in that back room is built entirely of stolen parts from a number of other theoretical scientists, we can see Degaton goes away for a long, long time.” With that, the hero doctor moved to the broken window and leaped away into the night, leaving a shaken, stunned Everett Zee behind.


JSA Headquarters, Gotham City, 1941
The conference room shimmered. At first it was imperceptible, but slowly it became clear that something was happening. The table lost it’s dust, and then gleamed with polish. The lights slowly seemed to repair and then shone radiance over the elegant draperies that faded in over the ragged scraps of cloth. The red white and blue shield of the JSA appeared on the wall overlooking the assemblage of eight men gathered in solemn contemplation around the table. Crystal glasses of water, pads of paper, small items of memorabilia and interest and sentiment started to litter the room, and a picture of the president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt shifted into sight in a spot of reverence above the mantle. Hawkman stood at the head of the table, resplendent in his raptor-helmet and broad wings. He looked over his companions, as he held the gavel in his hand. Green Lantern to his right, and the Flash to his left, their scarlet shirts emblazoned with personal heraldry. Hourman and The Atom were next, tall and short, broad and lithe, sharing only power and justice in common. The Sandman in his gas mask and trenchcoat, face hidden from the world completely, as opposite him sat the azure garbed Doctor Fate. He sat as impassive and inscrutable as his dream-inspired counterpart under the golden Helmet of Nabu, the golden cape draped over his chair. And sitting opposite Hawkman at the far end of the table was Johnny Thunder in his blue shirt, black pants and red suspenders, the sheriff’s badge of his ancestor lovingly pinned to him. They were a strange crew, but Hawkman smiled as he saw them arrayed before him. He didn’t know why, but he knew inside that it was a near thing that this wasn’t the scene, and the déjà vu of the abandoned building, broken and defeated, fluttered past his mind’s eye. He shook the image off, and returned to the matter at hand.

“Okay, so we’ve discussed it,” Hawkman said in his commanding bass voice. “None of us can be sure what happened, or how our guests were involved, but none of us can deny that something bad happened, and it’s those three out there who saved the day. So with a show of hands, who is for awarding them membership in the Justice Society of America?’

Out in the hall there appeared the three heroes of the day. Captain Marvel leaned against a wall, arms crossed as he discovered he was waiting impatiently for the JSA meeting to come to an end. Wonder Woman stood in the center of the hall, arms at her hips and standing regal. The Shadow lurked in darkened recesses that seemed to appear only for him to lurk in.

“So what just happened?” Captain Marvel asked. “I mean, I do realize things are set straight, but how?” He looked at Shadow. “You obviously had something to do with this.”

“Oh yes, my boy,” the Shadow replied. “A pupil of mine passed his test with flying colors. He put down Degaton before he had a chance to take the time machine into the future and lay the groundwork for his master plan and his Red Morgue.”

“Why not just do that in the first place?” Wonder Woman asked with a harsh voice. “Why this elaborate battle against the future Degaton if one lone man could put down Degaton before he was a threat?”

“Because, Your Majesty,” Captain Marvel answered for his dark ally. “His Red Morgue was protecting him, right? We were all a diversion, to draw Degaton’s forces away.” Marvel turned and stared at the Shadow, who nodded and gave a bow to the Captain.

“He’s right, Hippolyta,” the Shadow said. “To defeat this menace, he had to be beaten in both time zones. It’s just fortunate for us that his mind, though brilliant, is also lacking in genuine tactics. He could have gone anywhere to engage his conquest, making our efforts that much more difficult. But like most evil men, he had to return to the scene of the crime.”

The door opened and the JSA walked out into the hallway. “It’s official and unanimous,” Green Lantern declared with a reserved smile.

The Flash suddenly appeared between Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Welcome to the Justice Society, all three of you.”

Captain Marvel brightened up and stood straight. “Gee, sir! That’s a great honor!” He shook Jay Garrick’s hand vigorously. “I mean that. But, I can’t accept. I don’t belong here, and I really need to go home.”

“I too must turn down your acceptance,” the Shadow said from the distance. “I am not a part of your gaudy and dynamic world. You must forever remain the Light to my Shadow.” He paused and then added, “But I sincerely thank you for the honor.”

“I have my own reasons for turning down the offer,” Wonder Woman declared hotly. “I will watch carefully, and if my reasons prove to be false, then I will hopefully be able to take you up again on the invitation.”

“Well, at least let us list you as honorary members,” Hawkman offered again. “Give you three the right to come to the meetings and make use of the headquarters, and let’s us call on you if we find we need the help again.” He looked to his fellow heroes who largely nodded and agreed with the idea.

“Sounds great by me!” Captain Marvel jumped. “And it does to my partners too,” he added as he put a hand on the Amazon’s shoulder now. “Doesn’t it, Your Majesty?” he seemed to be urging her. She looked up at him oddly, but slowly nodded. “I could live with that.”

The Shadow stared at Marvel, and his eyes narrowed. “Very well. There is a reason, clearly. So I will give in to that. But for now, I must go. My city needs me. In my absence, crime soars. I must go and help the innocent. And God help the guilty!” With that, he laughed loud and hard, rattling all in the hallway as he disappeared from view.

“I’ll never get used to that,” Captain Marvel said as he stared at the suddenly empty floor.