July 4th, 1944, Washington, D.C.
Jack was very excited. He had never seen
one of the new newsreels before. The ones that showed all the
news on the war front, and told how the Axis powers were being
beaten more and more every day. He was too young to serve in the
army, being only 14 years old, but he still did his best for the
war effort. He canvassed neighborhoods for donations, and helped
his mother sell war bonds, to raise money for the effort. He had
already decided that, when he turned old enough, he would join
the fight against the Nazis and their allies.
He paid his nickel, got his pop and popcorn, and
then entered the main theatre. It was already crowded, and it
took some hunting for a good seat. As luck would have it, he found
an empty seat in the very front, which he quickly took. He had
the best seat in the house.
The reel began. It showed the Allies fighting
against the Axis powers, and told Jack that victory was imminent.
The enemy was going to be defeated, and the true force for good
would prevail for humanity. War bonds were a necessity, and every
man, woman, and child was needed in the effort. Finally, a message
from President Franklin Roosevelt himself was on, spurring on
the people of the home front to keep up the good work, and never
give up hope. Jack was so happy to see this…
…Except now he didn’t feel happy. Now he felt
as if the enemy surrounded him. And even more surprising, Jack
now knew who the true enemy was. It wasn’t Hitler, Mussolini,
or Tojo. It was Roosevelt himself, and the entire government.
They had tricked him. They had tricked the American people. The
American Government was the enemy.
And the enemy must be destroyed. The Government
must fall.
President Roosevelt must die.
Jack knew this. Everyone in the theatre knew this,
and knew what they must do. Everyone got out of their seats, and
proceeded to leave the theatre. It was time for the enemy to be
vanquished, and for the Axis to take their place as the rightful
rulers of the Earth.
Elsewhere, in a non-descrepit home in the suburbs
of Washington, a man chuckled, then let out a roaring howl of
laughter. The American people were all sheep. They only needed
a shepherd to move them in the right direction. Roosevelt was
not that shepherd. HE was.
It had been a simple matter to use the advanced
technology at his disposal to alter the newest movie reels to
be released all over America. The reels would implant hypnotic
commands in all that watched, to make them turn on America and
do whatever it took to enable that country’s downfall. This country
had a surprising lack of security when compared to the Third Reich.
It was a wonder the Americans hadn’t fallen to their superior
might. One large reason, especially to him, was the damnable Justice
Society of America, and their allies in the All-Star Squadron.
Hitler had seen to their exclusion from the European Theatre of
Operations thanks to the power of the Spear of Destiny, but they
still foiled plan after plan on American soil. Now, however, it
was only a matter of time before they too fell to the irresistible
pull of the Reich. They had secret identities, and had as much
chance of seeing the reels as anyone. Soon, the Axis would have
powerful allies indeed, made all the more sweet by the fact that
they used to be America’s champions.
The man went to the basement of his house, and
activated an advanced communications device. This particular device
was operated on a wavelength unknown to most people on Earth,
and certainly unknown to the Allies. The viewscreen shimmered
into view.
"Heil Hitler! Vot is your progress?",
commanded the voice on the other end of the commlink.
The man saluted with his arm extended fully, palm
flat. "All proceeds as planned. In a matter of hours, America
will be crushed by its own citizens."
"Excellent! Continue vith da progress reports
as scheduled. Heil Hitler!". The link cut out.
The man smiled to himself. America was merely
a test run. If this technology proved successful, as his benefactor
had assured him, then perhaps it would be prudent to have a new
leader of the Axis powers.
Himself.
The man laughed again, and then proceeded to leave
his home. He got into his sedan, and drove in the general direction
of the White House. After all, if he was the architect behind
this offensive, shouldn’t he have a ringside seat?
As he drove, he turned his radio on. Immediately,
news reports were being broadcast about mass riots and assaults
upon government buildings all over America. And because the release
of the reels was at varying times all over America, no one would
suspect the cause of the chaos…until it was too late.
People were dying from all over the country, from
mass beatings or troops shooting rioters. The White House was
under the heaviest assault. And when the man heard what factor
made it the heaviest, he laughed aloud again.
Green Lantern was attacking the President of the
United States.
Yes, this definitely was going to be a good day.
Washington, D.C., Present day, 1999
John Henry Irons, a.k.a. the armored hero known
as Steel, flew over Washington at Mach 3. He had an appointment
with S.T.A.R.* Labs Washington, in five minutes. He had wanted
to be early for his meeting, but that little altercation with
the Mad Hatter in Jersey had held him up longer than he had intended.
But that was over and done now, and he still had some time to
change.
(* Scientifically and Technologically Advanced
Research – M.I.K.E.)
As he came up to S.T.A.R. Labs main building,
he alighted and landed on the rooftop. He had been given an all-clear
frequency to emit by S.T.A.R. as he approached their airspace
to tell their automated defenses he was a friend. Assaults in
recent years had forced S.T.A.R. to these drastic measures, as
well as new government regulations. He deactivated his armor,
turning it to the consistency of fine silk. Under the armor, was
a stylish business suit, made of a derivative of his armor’s material
so as to make it virtually wrinkle-free after it had been worn
under his armor. Couldn’t afford to look shabby, after all.
He went down the stairwell after putting his armor
in its custom designed briefcase, and entered the main floor.
After checking in with the receptionist, he was ushered into a
boardroom. In the room, were four people in lab coats.
They all got up as John entered. "Welcome,
Dr. Irons," said one of the people, a very attractive redheaded
woman, "My name is Dr. Jenette Klyburn. The others with me
are Dr. Jon Minised, Dr. Waylon Smythe and Dr. Clark Montgomery.
We represent the Board of Directors for this division of S.T.A.R."
"Pleased to meet you all. Dr. Klyburn, I’ve
heard a lot about you, particularly from Superman", replied
John.
"Thank you. Of course, your reputation obviously
precedes you. Your scientific background is exceptional, just
the thing we could use here at S.T.A.R. Superman, Aquaman, and
even Bruce Wayne even recommend you! Having the Justice League
backing you was plenty, but Mr. Wayne’s support definitely clinches
the deal. What sort of work did you do for him?"
John smiled inwardly, "Lets just say it was
private contracting." Bruce Wayne had commissioned John for
work on a variety of secret projects, and he suspected a connection
between Wayne and the League, but what exactly he wasn’t sure.
His most popular theory was that Wayne was either behind or was
Oracle, the JLA’s computer support person. Oracle’s identity was
a closely guarded secret, known only to Batman. And if the secret
was on the part of Batman, then it was a secret no one else would
ever know, period.
"I understand your need for privacy, Dr.
Irons. In any case, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? We require
your technical expertise. We have been commissioned by NASA to
develop suits for survival in all environments. More specifically,
the surface of Mars." Dr. Klyburn slid an envelope across
the table to John.
He picked it up, opened it, and looked at its
contents: a cheque for $50,000.
"A research bonus, Dr. Irons. Due to your
making time in your already heavy schedule."
"Such an large amount this early wasn’t necessary,
but I thank you for this nonetheless. Consider your offer accepted."
He had been thinking about technology applications for this project
for weeks, especially the use of Boom Tube tech for easier travel
time for the astronauts. He was awash with anticipation over this
project. After all, it was an opportunity for help beyond his
hospital duties at Jersey, or his other duties with the JLA.
"Thank you, Dr. Irons. Welcome aboard."
He smiled, "Please, call me John."
((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
Elsewhere in Washington D.C., 1999
People walking along the front of the White House
saw a particularly different sight today, or rather would have,
if they hadn’t blinked at the wrong second. Those that were watching
at the right time, would have seen a red blur streak past, leaving
dust and litter flown up in its wake. This was a sign that the
Flash had just passed by.
This wasn’t the Flash of recent years, however.
No, this was the original Flash- Jay Garrick. Although advanced
in years, he still had as much vitality as someone did fifty years
younger than he. Varying events in his life had contributed to
his youthfulness, but the main factor was that he was connected
to the extra-dimensional Speed Force, and that connection gave
him more than anyone his age had a right to expect.
Jay stopped at the east gate of the White House,
and after an extensive security check, was allowed to enter the
building. He was escorted to a small reception area, in which
were various dignitaries. Some he even recognized. They all recognized
him.
One older man approached him with awe, "The
Flash! My God, I haven’t seen you in person since dubbaya-dubbaya
two! It’s an honor and a privilege, sir! The name’s Sgt. Max Hailey,
sir. I served in the 83rd Infantry when you and the Justice Society
stormed in and saved us from the Germans in Poland! Why, that
was back in 1942!"
Jay smiled. He couldn’t quite recall the particular
battle, but he wouldn’t let on to this veteran about that.
"It’s a pleasure to see you again, Max. It
was an honor to have served by you."
Jay had been called here today to help celebrate
a special occasion. A previously unknown cache of World War II
memorabilia had been unearthed, and was being announced officially
by the President of the United States, with some distinguished
veterans from that same war. Jay had been contacted to speak,
as had various members of the Justice Society. He wasn’t sure
if the others would make it, but he felt it his obligation to
attend.
After speaking to many other veterans in the room,
he turned to see Ted Grant, alias Wildcat, enter. He was followed
by Alan Scott, formerly known as the original Green Lantern, and
now much more youthful and known as Sentinel.
"Jay! You made it! It’s like old home week
for the Justice Society!", exclaimed Alan.
"Oh, it hasn’t been that long since we watched
that game over at Jay’s. But it is nice to get together officially,
even if it is for a bread and circuses event.", Ted said.
"Come on, Wildcat, you know this is important
as much as I do.", replied Jay, "We were there with
these veterans when they fought, and we owe it to them to honor
the memory of their fallen comrades. This memorabilia unveiling
is more important than busting any criminal’s head."
Ted grunted, " Yeah, yeah, you’re right.
Say, are we it? Are any of the others coming?"
"Ted Knight said he’d try. He’s still waiting
for a sign that Jack is coming home from his search for Will Payton.
The kid has moxy, you have to give him that."
Ted grunted again, "If he’s anything like
his dad, he’ll do it, and do it with style."
Just then, a young woman walked into the room,
with a clipboard in hand. "Everyone, it’s almost time to
begin. If you’ll all follow me, I’ll take you to the press room."
INTERLUDE I
Butch’s Bar, New York, NY, Present Day
Rick Tyler was trying to decide what to drink
next. He had tried various liquers, but decided beer was the drink
to stand with. He had been waiting for an hour now, and the man
he had been expecting still had not turned up yet.
After his father died at the hands of Extant in
the Zero Hour Crisis, he had inherited the vast wealth of Tyler
Chemicals, and all its subsidiaries. He had no clue how to run
the business, and so had let his father’s vice-president, Victor
Ferdinand, to handle the day-to-day chores of running the company
as its Chief Operating Officer. Rick still held majority shareholding,
but merely sat back to pursue the vocation he loved so much: art.
He had contacted Jenny-Lynn Hayden a.k.a. Jade, to touch base
with her now that he was in New York. As luck would have it, she
lived with an artist, a guy named Kyle Rayner, who was able to
give Rick some contacts to get started with. His career was going
slower than expected, but since he had money from owning Tyler
Chemicals, he wasn’t in as much of a hurry as other ‘starving
artists’ were.
Everything was going great for him: his cancer
was in remission due to his use of his father’s Miraclo drug,
the same drug that his father had used as to fight crime with
as Hourman. His career was back on track. He had quit the Hourman
gig he had done for a short while. Life was good. No worries.
Until he received the phone call.
The identity of the caller was unknown to him.
He was simply told to meet someone at Butch’s Bar at 2:00 p.m.,
to find out secret information regarding Tyler Chemicals. Rick
couldn’t help but wonder who this person was. He knew it couldn’t
be Victor, because when he called his office, he was told Victor
was on vacation in the Bahamas for several weeks. Who could it
be?
Just then, an obviously nervous man entered the
bar. He immediately looked around, and zeroed in on Rick. He quickly
approached the booth Rick was sitting at, and sat down.
"Rick Tyler?", the man asked.
"Yes, who might you be?", he replied.
"My name is Bob Logan. I’m an accountant
for Tyler Chemicals New York. I have information you will want
to know regarding…let’s just say, questionable activities within
your corporation."
Bob Logan definitely had his attention. "What
kind of activities are you talking about, Mr. Logan?"
Logan looked around the bar again. "I’m talking
the most ambitious drug operation this country has ever seen.
Tyler Chemicals is involved in the mass production of a large
volume of illegal drugs using entire facilities, in conjunction
with an criminal organization called Intergang."
Rick almost spit out his beer. "What?? How
can that be? If this were as big as you’re implying, whole plants
would have to be devoted to this operation. And that can’t be
done without Victor Ferdinand knowing in some way. He’s been a
friend of my family for years! I refuse to believe he’s involved
in this kind of illegal deal."
Logan frowned, and looked around again. "Believe
me. I’ve seen the books. I wasn’t supposed to, but the regular
bookkeeper was sick one day, so I was given his workload one day.
I saw it all. There are no less than five Tyler Chemical plants
being put towards the production of some new illegal drug. Each
different plant is responsible for making one component of the
drug, so no one person knows what it is they’re making. Final
production is done at a plant where it is staffed wholly by Intergang
personnel. The head of this on the Tyler Chem. end of it is Victor
himself. This is big. I’ve feared for my life since I saw this.
It’s only a matter of time until they realize someone saw information
they weren’t supposed to, and then I’m dead. I had to tell you.
Your father was a great man, and I felt if anyone could do something,
it would his son."
"Believe me, Mr. Logan. I’ll definitely be
seeing into this. But first, we need to find you someplace safe.
Stay right here. I have to make a quick phone call, and we’ll
have protection here right away." Rick got up, and went to
the back of the bar to use the pay phone.
Logan sank deeper into his chair, still looking
around. He had managed to get his wife and kids hidden with some
friends of his. But he had a bad feeling that he wasn’t going
to see them alive again.
"Can I get you anything, Mr. Logan?",
asked the waitress.
Logan turned to reply, when a sudden fear swept
over him. "How—how did you know my name?!"
The waitress smiled. "No one crosses Intergang
and lives Mr. Logan." With that, she pulled out a small device
that looked like a pager, and aimed it Logan. She pressed a button
on its face, and immediately, a loud boom was heard throughout
the bar. The waitress dropped her tray, and ran out the back of
the bar.
She shoved Rick out of the way as he was running
back from the phone, obviously concerned about the loud boom.
He went to his table, and saw what was left of Logan. His body
was intact, but his head was gone. Immediately, Rick realized
that the woman who shoved him must have been the killer. He rushed
out to the back door, and saw a vehicle speeding away.
Concentrating, he mentally began the metabolic
process that released the Miraclo drug in his body, and felt a
rush of strength and power flood through him. Less than a second
later, he had leaped 200 yards in one jump, and landed on the
escaping car’s roof. He punched through it with one hand, and
peeled back the metal, allowing him access inside. Suddenly, he
leaped back onto the trunk as the occupants fired high-tech blasters
up at him. Punching through the back windshield, he dragged one
of the gunmen back through it, and threw him to the street. Jumping
up again, he landed in the cab, kicking the driver in the head
as he landed. He then reached out and crushed the blaster the
woman was holding. Grabbing her, he leapt out of the car, and
still holding the woman, he grabbed the rear fender of the car
as he landed behind it, and dragged it to a stop, his feet breaking
concrete as he did so.
Once the car stopped, he turned to the woman in
his arm, and crushed the smaller device she now had aimed at him.
He pulled her close to him.
"Who are you?? Are you with Intergang? Who
sent you??", he demanded furiously.
"You’ll never know," she replied, as
she bit down. Immediately, she was vaporized in a flash of light,
nothing left but ashes.
He then went to the car, and pulled out the driver.
Reaching into his mouth, he pulled out a device that was attached
to his tooth. He slapped the driver awake.
"Talk, or you’ll never walk again."
The look on his face told the driver he was dead serious.
The driver grinned, and bit down. A look of surprise
fell over his face as nothing happened.
"Missing something?," Rick asked as
he held the small device in his other hand.
"Hold it, Rick! Don’t kill him!," came
a voice from behind him. He turned to see his old friend Todd
Hayden, otherwise known as Obsidian. Todd was in his shadow form,
with his eyes and mouth a bright white.
"I see you got my message.", Rick replied.
"Yeah, Jenny called me right after you called
her. Said you needed backup. But I see I wasn’t needed."
Rick frowned. "I’ll still need help, Todd.
This is big."
"How big?"
"It involves Intergang and Tyler Chemicals."
"Intergang, huh? Sounds like we’ll need more
than the two of us."
"You’ve got that right. We’ll need big help.
What about your Albert or your dad?"
"Albert’s gone travelling for a while. Dad’s
in Washington at the White House doing some WW II thing with Jay
and Ted. Think we should bring them in on this?"
"Oh, yeah. Once they hear this story, they’ll
be involved whether we want them to be or not. Can you make the
trip?"
"Yeah, I’ve been practicing with…a teacher
to expand on my shadow abilities. We can be in Washington in minutes."
"Okay. But first, we need to stop by my apartment.
If we’re going to the White House, I’ll need some business clothes.
And a place to keep this guy." He motioned at the driver.
"I have just the thing, Rick. Grab him let’s
get outta here."
Suddenly, Rick looked around. The third Intergangster
was gone. "Dammit, I forgot about the last one!"
"Don’t sweat it, Rick. We’ll make this guy
talk. I’ve learned a few tricks from my new teacher."
"You’ll have to tell me about this guy later."
"Uh…yeah, maybe later. Let’s go!" With
that, shadows reached out to envelop Rick and the driver, and
an instant later, they were gone as if they were never there.
At the moment just before he was engulfed in total blackness,
Rick could have sworn he saw multiple sets of eyes in the shadow
form of Obsidian…
INTERLUDE II
Somewhere else, far removed from the world of
man…
Nabu was in pain. He hadn’t yet been able to effect
an escape from his enemy, but then anyone more powerful than he
would be just as helpless. Even the Spectre had fought his enemy
at one time, and was unable to defeat him. Such was the might
of his foe, a foe long thought obliterated forever.
Even though he was a Lord of Order, and one of
the more powerful ones at that, he realized that if anyone were
to have any hope of success of defeating his foe, it would not
be he. Still, he required an agent to act for him in the coming
conflict, and since his foe had killed Jared Stevens, the previous
holder of the mantle of Fate, such as it was then, he needed to
act now. His foe possessed the sacred helmet of Fate, having reforged
it from the knife and ankhs that Stevens had used. He had one
chance, to allow the helmet to break free, and find a suitable
host for it. It would require all his power, and quite possibly
end in his death, but the sacrifice would be worth it. The universe
needed an agent of order.
"SO, IS YOUR PRISON COMFORTABLE, NABU?",
taunted his dark foe.
"Not as comfortable as your ego, it would
seem, evil one. ," Nabu replied with sarcasm.
"YOU WILL SERVE MY PURPOSE WHEN THE TIME
COMES…AND THEN THE UNIVERSE WILL BE REMADE IN MY IMAGE AS IT WAS
ALWAYS MEANT TO BE!"
"We’ll see about that, smart ass!"
With that retort, Nabu summoned eldritch energies,
and focused them upon his prison. As he expected, they were not
able to shatter it, but he was able to use the prison as a focal
point upon which to create a dimensional warp that sucked the
helmet of Fate through it. Before the enemy realized it, a key
piece in his plan was gone, out of his reach. Nabu collapsed,
and smiled to himself, despite the weakness he now felt from his
total expenditure of energy.
The enemy was not pleased. "YOU INSOLENT
WRETCH!! HOW DARE YOU!! YOU WILL TELL ME WHAT HAS BEEN DONE TO
THE HELMET, OR DIE!"
Nabu looked up at his towering foe. "You’ll
never know. Events have been set in motion the likes of which
will rise up to destroy you!"
"THEN IF YOU WILL NOT TALK, YOU WILL DIE!"
With that, the enemy blasted a bolt of cascading
energy at Nabu, and immediately vaporized him. Nothing was left,
not even ashes.
MY PLANS WILL NOT BE STOPPED, thought the enemy,
NOT EVEN BY A MERE LORD OF ORDER…
INTERLUDE III
In the regions of space between Apokolips and
New Genesis, a portal opened and closed in the space of nanoseconds.
Left in the portal’s wake, was a golden helmet, glowing with magical
energy. It stood in one spot for several minutes, then sped towards
the dark planet Apokolips.
Cloaking itself from the planetary defenses, the
helmet streaked across the planet, eventually coming to the area
known as Armaghetto. It stopped momentarily then flew into a shabby
little hut made of garbage. In the hut was a small man clutching
a Mother Box. He was barely a man though in terms of age, but
here in Armaghetto boys became men very quickly, or they died.
The helmet then flew onto the head of the chosen
one, and the garbage home flew apart in a blinding flash of light.
When those around could see again, they saw a man floating in
the air, wearing a golden helmet, amulet and cape. The uniform
was stylized with lines of circuitry, a design reminiscent of
many of the New Gods.
I am whole, and must continue my power consolidation,
thought the reborn Dr. Fate. I will need allies in the great fight…allies
like the Justice Society. But first, I must leave…for Oa. The
pact with Highfather must be honored…
With another blinding flash of light, Dr. Fate
was gone, leaving the denizens of Armaghetto to wonder what exactly
happened here this day…
July 4th, 1944, The White House, Washington D.C.
President Franklin Roosevelt waited in fear. He
had been quickly escorted down to his underground bunker as soon
as the rioters attacked the White House, but the rioters were
not what scared him.
What scared him was the fact that Green Lantern,
one of the most powerful men on Earth, was hunting him five hundred
feet above his current position.
He normally would have been sent down a series
of tunnels away from the White House, but the shockwaves of Green
Lantern’s attack had caused a collapse of the connecting tunnels
around his current position. He was trapped, and could do nothing
but wait for death to claim him.
Unless a miracle happened, and fast.
The Flash swept past the outskirts of Washington
D.C., kicking up a swirl of dust as he passed by. He still couldn’t
believe what he heard over his helmet radio: his friend was attacking
the White House. Options ran through his head. Possession? Evil
twin? An imposter? Any of a thousand options were possible, especially
in their line of work. He pushed his speed faster, creating a
sonic boom that blew out windows all around him. Speed was imperative.
He would have to hold off Alan, at least until reinforcements
arrived.
As he approached the White House, he saw a coruscating
green light in the form of a drill bore into the ground. Its progress
was impeded as the root systems of the local fauna gave resistance
to Green Lantern’s power ring. Its only weakness was that it was
powerless against wood, or other related substances.
Flash sped at an incredible speed towards Green
Lantern, and took a great leap, propelled by his speed and a whirlwind
gust of air from his vibrating arms. Before Green Lantern knew
what happened, a fist going 2000 miles per hour punched him. It
would have knocked the head clean off a normal man, but Green
Lantern had surrounded himself with an emerald energy shield.
The punch still had shook him up quite visibly, however, as his
energy drill dissipated back into green light, and disappeared.
Regaining his senses, he looked around with an insane look in
his eyes, and finally found his assailant.
Instantly, a huge emerald fist came slamming down
on Flash’s current position. He easily evaded the blow, but got
the first good look at his friend’s viciousness. He meant business,
that there was no doubt.
Flash kept Green Lantern occupied, while at the
same time removing rioters from the White House grounds. It was
difficult, but he managed to build a barrier in some areas, looking
like a red blur swirling around the White House lawn. This was
a stopgap measure at best, and he knew it. Already, people were
climbing over the barriers faster than he could keep up. He needed
those reinforcements, and now.
Then, as if in response to his thoughts, a lightning
bolt struck the ground, and a thundercrack was heard from all
directions. Once the bright light disappeared, in its spot were
people: Wonder Woman, Hourman, Dr. Mid-Nite, the Atom, Wildcat,
Hawkman, Hawkwoman, Dr. Fate and Johnny Thunder & his magical
Thunderbolt.
The Justice Society of America!
"You wanted reinforcements, Flash? Well the
Thunderbolt express always delivers!", cried Johnny.
Flash let loose a smile. "Good work, Johnny!
Everyone, stop Green Lantern! He’s trying to attack the President!"
Without question, the assembled heroes began a
formation around Green Lantern, ready to take him down.
And nearby, the man responsible for this devastation
watched, and smiled. Everything was going perfectly to plan. Soon,
he would have the entire JSA under his control. He just needed
the right moment to have his agents strike…
Washington, D.C., Present Day
"…and so, ladies and gentlemen, I ask that
you join me in welcoming some of the greatest heroes of
WW II: The Justice Society of America!"
With those words from the President, the assembled
heroes of the JSA walked out onto the podium of the White House
press room. Cameras flashed everywhere, and the veterans seated
at the VIP area by the podium clapped and cheered louder than
anyone.
50 years later, and we’re still making a difference,
thought Jay Garrick. This is what it’s all about.
Sentinel smiled for the cameras and waved. His
apparent youth made no difference to the assembled veterans or
the media. To them, he was still known as Green Lantern, although
that role was filled now by Kyle Rayner. He waved again.
Ted Grant, alias Wildcat, also waved to the cameras.
He was used to the limelight, having been the World Heavyweight
Boxing Champion in years past. He was one of the few JSA’ers still
active today. It was his attitude as much as his prime physical
condition that contributed to that. If it weren’t for the veterans
here today, he would have preferred tackling that gunrunner case
he was working on, but…
Jay Garrick went up to the podium. "Mr. President,
distinguished guests, members of the press, Ladies and gentlemen.
Thank you for the warm reception, and the opportunity to speak
and be recognized with these heroic veterans. Without them, we
would have had no reason to fight, and without them, we wouldn’t
have the America we have today. Today’s release of old newsreels
from the war is merely one of the many stepping stones we can
use to educate our children about that horrible time, and make
sure it never happens again. With that, I turn the podium over
to my friend and ally, Sgt. Max Hailey. Sgt?"
Hailey got up, shook hands with the President
and the Flash, and then took his place at the podium. "Thank
you, Flash. It is my honor and privilege to officially announce
the playing of these newsreels. Let them take their place in history
as a bridge to the past." With that, he motioned to the projector
operator at the back of the room, and the first of the reels began
running as the lights dimmed.
It was telling of the help needed to buy war bonds
and the support our boys needed while they were away fighting
for freedom. Everyone was enraptured, even those at home as it
was broadcast to all of America.
Flash watched and suddenly, the reel stopped on
one frame. He looked around to see if something was wrong, but
saw something else was out of place. The projector beam wasn’t
flickering. It was solid.
No one or thing was moving. But everyone in the
room had angry, almost evil looks on their faces.
Immediately, he realized that his super-speed
had kicked in. In the event of an emergency or threat to his person,
his super-fast reflexes ‘slowed’ time for him, or rather, his
perception of time. But what was the threat?
He looked around, and suddenly felt something
prick his neck. Reaching behind him, he grabbed a needle-like
dart. It had broken the skin, but he had caught it before it could
get too deep. He looked around for the assailant who had fired
it, and saw someone pointing their finger at him. He went toward
their position, but suddenly felt himself getting groggy and dizzy.
How could that be? His body’s metabolism should have counteracted
any poison in his system, but not this time. He began to see double,
and fell to the ground before his assailant. Before he fell unconscious,
he got a good look at his attacker’s face.
The last thing emotion he felt was shock…
John Henry Irons sat in his assigned research
lab, working on his NASA project. The radio was tuned into a local
Washington, D.C. news station, and had just finished the weather.
He was leery of returning to the city that he
had allowed to destroy his family, but the chance for this research
was too good to pass up. This was a chance to really help outside
of superheroics.
Suddenly, the radio news quit to give a special
report. "This just in: The White House is under siege by
a variety of attackers and rioters. There is no given cause at
this point, but it has been confirmed that there are members of
the Justice Society of America involved. People are warned to
avoid the Pennsylvania Avenue at all costs. The Washington Special
Crimes Unit has been called in."
John turned the radio off, set his tools down,
and opened his briefcase. He held up his now soft armor, and quickly
put it on.
This was a job for Steel.
The White House was a scene of chaos. People of
all denominations were destroying the property, and some were
killing other people. There was no rhyme or reason to it.
A black portal shimmered into view and Obsidian
and Rick Tyler, now garbed in a stylish variant of his father’s
costume as Hourman, appeared. Immediately, they were taken aback
by the chaos before them, confused as to the state of affairs.
But then old reflexes kicked in, and they realized something had
to be done.
"I see I’m not the only one to come stop
this," said a voice from above the heroes. They looked up,
and saw Steel come to a landing beside them.
"We just showed up, and this is here. What
gives?", asked Obsidian.
"I don’t know," replied Steel. "I
just know that the Justice Society is involved, and that we’re
needed. I’ve sent a Justice League alert, but until then, lets
go!"
The three heroes entered the fray, trying to dissuade
the crowd from proceeding any further, but it was no use. They
all had an insane look in their eyes, a look that meant they would
not yield, superheroes stopping them or not.
"They’re not stopping!!," yelled Hourman.
"I’m holding back, but there’s too many of them!"
"That’s not all our worries," Steel
cried, "Look!!"
Above the heroes, was the President in a green
flaming sphere, with Sentinel floating above him, sustaining it.
In another sphere, was Wildcat and Sgt. Max Hailey.
"Sentinel, let him go. If you’re with us,
you’ll let him go." Steel looked Sentinel in the eyes. He
had the same insane look in his features.
Sentinel remained silent, and merely gave a wolfish
grin as he pointed down to the President in his energy bubble.
The heroes looked lower to the bubble, and saw the President,
surprisingly calm. He was holding a small box.
"I don’t like the looks of this," said
Hourman. Suddenly, a small porous hole opened in the front of
the bubble.
"That box the President holds," began
Sgt. Max Hailey, "is the firing command button for five nuclear
warheads I have had aimed at five major cities. Those cities are
Metropolis, Gotham City, Gateway City, Los Angeles, and New York.
In minutes, they will be vaporized as conquests of the New Reich!"
The three heroes began to move towards them, but
the President simply gave that insane, wolfish grin…
And pressed the button.
Next Issue: Three heroes are all that stand between
Nuclear Armageddon and the continued existence of the United States.
Can they stop an insane Justice Society? What is the secret of
Sgt. Max Hailey? Where is the JLA? And which deceased member of
the JSA holds the secret that can save them all? Find out in JUSTICE
SOCIETY OF AMERICA # 2 !
Writer’s Notes: Welcome to the premiere issue
of Faux-DC’s Justice Society of America! This is a dream come
true for me, and I hope my enthusiasm shows. The JSA are the original
big guns for the DC Universe, and in the coming months, look for
them to have that status once again. Expect a lot of surprises,
as well as a lot of old and new faces to show up. You’ll be seeing
a new definite lineup for the team, as well as a new headquarters
that longtime DC fans will recognize as a tip of the hat to the
past, and the possible future. And enemies? Expect some unexpected
ones, new ones, and old ones with a twist.
I encourage everyone to please send me your opinions
on this issue, good or bad. Praise and criticism are always appreciated,
and needed if I want to improve. I hope you all enjoyed this.
I had a hell of a good time writing it!
A tip of the hat goes to my co-plotter, Jason
Brice, who helped develop the initial direction of this series.
Jason was the original writer for JSA, and I came aboard after
his request for a co-writer. He has personal matters that preclude
him from being involved more than he is now, but I wish him the
best and hope he can come back soon!
Thanks, and we’ll see you all next issue!
Regards,
Mike Hintze
