"Time is not immutable, Rick Tyler."

Rick Tyler, a.k.a. Hourman, stood facing the intruder in his quarters aboard the Higher Authority. The intruder was garbed in tattered, violet robes, which shrouded any hint of his identity beneath. The intruder’s face was concealed. Rick was certain he was smiling.

"Look, before you start getting all existential with me, I want an explanation. Like who you really are, and how the hell you got in here." Since the intruder had made his presence known, Rick had been in a defensive stance. The Higher Authority was supposed to be one of the most secure facilities in existence, yet since this current incarnation of the Justice Society had made its base of operations there, this was the second time someone had made his way silently through their security systems. If he lived through this, there were going to be definite improvements to the Higher Authority’s defense perimeter.

"As I said, I am the Time Trapper, Master of the Timestream. As for how I gained access to your headquarters...well, once you have stood at my side for a time, a task as simple as that will become easily apparent to you." The Trapper began to walk about Rick’s quarters, looking at items on the walls and tables with seeming disinterest.

"Fine," replied Rick, his temper beginning to get the better of him. "Then tell we why you’re here at all. If it was to kill me, you could have done that all ready. If its to gain access to the Higher Authority’s systems, you could have done that without tipping me off. So why are you here, talking to me?"

The Time Trapper stopped his random perusing of Rick’s personal items, and turned to face him, arms clasped behind his back. Despite his face being concealed, the Trapper seemed to stare into Rick’s eyes with a fiery intensity.

"I am here, Rick Tyler...because I have a purpose for you. I want you to become my successor...to become the next Time Trapper."

Faux-DC Proudly Presents

No. 8

Time's Shadow

Part One - "Alternate Possibilities"

By Mike Hintze

Edited by Clay "Mighty Miry" Arceneaux and "Rollickin’" Ralph Angelo, Jr.

"And what the hell does a Time Trapper do?"

The Time Trapper’s eyes flashed with blue energy. "Do not mock me, Rick Tyler. What I propose to you is incomprehensible to normal sentients. I am offering you...immortality."

Rick gave the Trapper a wary look. "Immortality, huh? Just like that. Well, I have a question for you...why me? What makes me so special? My name turns you on? What?"

The Trapper moved to the viewport looking out over the Earth spinning below. "You have...talents. Talents you are just beginning to realize. You know you can reverse time’s flow, if now only a few moments. What you do not realize is that your exposure to chronal energies from Extant did more than give you some time reversal powers...they’ve opened up abilities in you that you cannot imagine...without my help."

"Just how do you know so much about me? Who the hell are you?", demanded Rick.

The Trapper turned to face Rick. "I have been active for an infinite number of years, but have rarely made my presence known in this era. I have encountered the one you call Superman early in his career. I am a guardian of time...and its unparalleled master. I hold the single most important role in existence. My time, however, is near its end. I tire of my position...and see a possible successor in you."

"Entering the Higher Authority unannounced like this doesn’t do your case a whole lot of good," said Rick.

"Words alone will not do this justice. I will show you what I mean." He waved his tattered hand, purple energy erupting out of his palm. The energy surrounded Rick and the Trapper. They disappeared without a sound.

He could hear nothing.

Travelling at 50,000 miles per second, sound was not a factor. Nowhere else could someone find such absolute and total silence. This aspect of his powers was one of the selfish reasons Jay Garrick thanked whatever higher power there was for granting him his connection to the Speed Force. Superspeed was always a step away from total disconnection from the real world.

He needed that now, more than any other time in recent memory.

The JSA had developed a predicting program to anticipate events that would require the intervention of the team, and was now going through the test phases. Of the first 100 Predictor analyses, 99 had been false alarms. Flash was the most suited for a fast response to the test runs, and even with a connection to the Speed Force, was finding himself run ragged.

Maybe this Predictor isn’t such a good idea after all, he thought. It sounded good at the time, but now it seemed to be a waste of time.

Flash approached the city of Sydney, Australia at close to Mach 12. He couldn’t see anything at this range that was out of the ordinary yet, and to be honest, he didn’t expect to.

He came to a stop outside the city limits, his abrupt stop blowing up desert outback in a translucent cloud. Energy arced off of the sand particles; the last vestiges of the Speed Force he drew upon dissipating. Sydney was a beautiful city, a jewel in the vast expanse of the Australian outback. He regretted not travelling more of the world over the years. He seemed to be always caught up in another world saving adventure after another, and seemed to never have the opportunity to appreciate the true beauty of the planet. Once this whole Predictor thing was either perfected or dumped, he was going to take some time off and take Joan somewhere exotic...Bermuda, maybe? Or—

An abrupt explosion sounded from downtown Sydney, great plumes of smoke billowing into the sky. Even from his vantagepoint outside the city, he could see buildings collapsing in the busy downtown area.

He sped off in an eyeblink to see what the cause of the disaster was. His only thought: that this time, the Predictor may have hit it right on the money.

The JLA Watchtower was a true sight to behold, even with all Alan Scott, the Sentinel, had seen over the long years of his career. The main receiving hall just off the teleporter room was immense, with most of the outer walls transparent to give an unobstructed view of the moon’s surface, with the Earth beyond. Artwork representing an alien culture adorned the floor in a huge mural; obviously the work of J’onn J’onzz, the Manhunter from Mars.

He had thought ill of the Justice League making its base of operations so far away from the people they protected. It seemed as if they were putting themselves above everyone like a pantheon of gods not unlike the Olympians of Mount Olympus. Of course, with the Justice Society making their headquarters in orbit above the Earth, those thoughts seemed quite hypocritical. John Henry Irons, a.k.a. Steel, and J’onn J’onzz had aided in the construction of the Higher Authority, and were able to explain the rationale for such a location in terms of science rather than less tangible reasons like image. The Teleporters used by the JLA and the JSA were based on Folding Martian Technology, whereby real space was folded from one point to another in space/time. Having these teleporters planet bound did work, but the relay time was longer than a direct line of sight as was afforded on the moon or in orbit. Relay satellites cloaked in folds of space/time were around the planet to assist with transports beyond the terminator of the planet, but energy efficiency and travel time were greatly improved. Plus, the JLA Watchtower was able to totally power itself from alternate sources, the sun and cosmic radiation being only two. The Higher Authority was powered in much similar manners, but drew the majority of its power from the emerald energy of the StarHeart and the Oan Energy of Green Lantern. Which was the better headquarters was often a friendly bone of contention between Steel and J’onzz, being that Steel had more of a hand in the Higher Authority than the Watchtower.

"Alan, I trust the ride over was uneventful?"

Sentinel turned to meet his greeter. Superman extended his arm in a friendly handshake. Alan met the greeting, amazed at the firmness of Superman’s hand; especially when put in the context that that same hand could crush most anything on Earth. "Yes, it was, Superman. I have to admit your headquarters is breathtaking. You’ve really taken advantage of the space."

Superman smiled. "Well, it’s a pretty quiet neighborhood."

"I guess so," replied Alan with a wink.

"The others are waiting in the Main Meeting Chamber. If you’ll follow me?" Superman swept his arm out in a gesture towards the far end of the vast room, towards an elevator lift.

"Lead the way."

The elevator whisked the two heroes far above the floor Alan had entered on. The chamber below had looked so vast that it seemed nothing would be above it, yet in seconds they had passed several other levels beyond that room. Finally, the lift stopped, and they strode onto the floor. Superman moved towards a door, and punched a button. The door slid open, and Alan saw the main meeting room of the Justice League.

A large oval table was the centerpiece of the room. Chairs were evenly spaced around the room, each with a symbol representing a member of the team. The entire team was not present, as Alan had requested only a select few with which to speak. J’onn J’onzz, Wonder Woman, and Batman were seated in their designated spots.

"J’onn, Princess...Batman," said Alan as he greeted them.

"Alan, a pleasure," replied J’onn.

"Welcome, Alan," said Diana with a nod.

"Sentinel," replied Batman.

Superman escorted Sentinel to a seat, then took his own. "Alan, you’ve asked us to meet with you to discuss something of importance between the JLA and the JSA. I think it goes without saying that when a member of the Justice Society and a hero of your stature asked for an audience with us, we didn’t hesitate. The floor is yours."

"Thank you, Superman," said Alan. He clasped his palms together, taking a moment to compose himself. "And thank you all, for taking a moment of your very busy lives to allow me to meet with you. As you know, the Justice Society has had some changes in recent months. We’ve established a new team, headquarters and are now establishing a new modus operandi. To be honest, we’ve decided to take a more proactive stance in dealing with the threats the superhuman community have been dealing with for years."

"The Predictor," said Batman. Not a question.

Alan moved past the momentary surprise. Of course Batman knew. Batman probably knew his underwear size and whom he took to the prom in high school. "Yes, the Predictor. It’s a program that extrapolates from the events of the past to give us an idea of the future. We’re hoping it helps us in anticipating large-scale disasters. The Predictor is in the testing phase as we speak."

"Further to this, we have decided that our main focus should be two-fold: becoming proactive, and training the next generation to be proactive as well."

"This is where the JLA comes in," said Batman. Again, not a question.

"Exactly," said Alan. "Your team has had extensive contact with heroes that are what you could call ‘The Next Generation’. Some have been been members of the JLA over the years. Some are your proteges and successors. I have come to you today to ask for recommendations on new members for the Justice Society...members that could become the JLA’s and JSA’s of the future."

Batman produced a computer disc and slid it towards Sentinel. "My choices," he said with a mild smile, at least as much of a smile as Batman ever gives.

Superman and Diana gave Batman a look of mild surprise. J’onn J’onzz simply grinned a knowing look.

"The rest of us will get back to you, Alan, although I have a feeling our choices will probably mirror what’s on that disc," said Superman bemusedly.

Alan smiled and shook his head. Everytime he saw Batman, he thought of how much he missed Charles McNider, the original Dr. Mid-Nite.

"Thank you. I know that working together, we can make this work."

Hourman and the Time Trapper appeared on a field of grass surrounded by trees. It was night, and the stars were out in full force.

Hourman looked down at himself, and found he was wearing his uniform. The Trapper obviously wanted him dressed for the occasion. He grasped the hourglass he wore about his neck and silently prayed. It had belonged to his father, and it always brought comfort when he held it. He may be the chairman of the JSA, and he would never admit it to the Trapper, but he was scared. The Trapper obviously could kill him with a thought, so that left him with an advantage: He was needed alive for now. He had time. And if anyone could make use of time, it was Hourman.

"Where are we?", he asked.

The Trapper casually strolled through the manicured grass. "We are in the past. I have decided you need an example of my power." The Trapper waved his hand over the grass, and it all withered and died. Then, he waved his hand again, and the grass regained vitality instantly. "The power of life and death is in your hands. Reversing time’s flow is the smallest example of what you can do."

Hourman faced the Trapper. "You say you want me to be your successor. What am I succeeding? What is it you do?"

The Trapper seemed to grow as he overshadowed Hourman. "I rule time. It is my plaything, to be manipulated. To be DOMINATED. All of existence is at my whim. My purpose? It is not to serve time...it is to have time serve ME. I see in you the potential to become a fearsome Time Trapper...a Time Master. You simply need the motivation."

Hourman almost laughed. "My father was the greatest hero I’ve ever known. I’ve become a member of the greatest legacy I can imagine. I serve a higher purpose. Are you so dense that you really think I would take your legacy over that of my father’s? For all your power, you really don’t know anything at all, do you?"

The Trapper trembled with rage. "I said you needed the proper motivation...and I see I will also need to set an example with you as well." The Trapper bound Hourman in purple energy, unable to move or speak. "Watch...and learn."

The Trapper moved out of the treed area they were in, Hourman floating behind him as he went. Hourman could see a huge mansion ahead of them, with a Rolls Royce car parked out front. Rick thought the mansion looked familiar, but couldn’t place it in his memory.

The Trapper continued to approach the car, where Rick could see a man leaving the driver’s seat of the car. He was wearing a kind of tuxedo, with a receding hairline and a finely trimmed mustache. The man seemed to be a servant of some kind, and he quickly went around the passenger door on the opposite side of the car to open it. As he did, a young boy got out of the car, and made his way to the large front doors of the mansion. Hourman had never seen a child that looked so...intense. He couldn’t be more than 12 or 14 years old. Any innocence had been driven out of this child long ago.

Suddenly, the Trapper produced a knife in his hand, and his form changed into that of Hourman. He reached out and grabbed the manservant around the neck.

"Young One!", yelled the disguised Trapper. "It will never stop...unless you make it stop." With that, he slit the throat of his victim. The manservant fell to the ground, gurgling noises coming from his mouth as he drowned in his own blood.

Hourman struggled to free himself from his bonds. Even his Miraclo induced strength was not enough. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

The child ran down the stairs, screaming in terror. "ALFRED!!!" He collapsed on the butler, holding him in an awkward embrace, not at all mindful of the blood soaking his clothes and running down the paved driveway.

The Trapper resumed his original form, and waved his hand, laughing. Hourman and he disappeared in a flash of violet light, leaving the young boy to mourn his loss alone.

The room was dark...except for a spotlight that shone brightly on one man. He was tied to a chair, and had been savagely beaten. His face was unrecognizable, his eyes swollen shut. Three men stood around him, shrouded in darkness.

"You’re sure. You’re sure of that?", asked one of the men.

"Y-Yuh! Uh Swear it!", pleaded the beaten man. Tears ran down his face. He smelled of sweat and urine.

"Well," asked another man. "Do you believe him?"

The third man replied, "He says the Tyler kid is going to assume control of the company and threaten our arrangement? Hm. He was going to turn state’s evidence on us, until we made him talk. After that beating, I think he’d be hard pressed to lie. So, yeah. I believe him." He brought out a small beeper-like device, and aimed it at the beaten man’s head. "Jerry, you’ve outlived your usefulness." He pressed a button, and a loud BOOM! was heard in the small room. The three men would have had their eardrums blown out if it hadn’t been for their earplugs. The beaten man’s head had disappeared entirely, his body slumped over.

The third man took out a cell phone and dialed a number. "Yeah, it’s me. It’s been confirmed. Get ahold of Copperhead. Tell him the hit on Rick Tyler is a go. That’s one punk who will learn not to mess with Intergang."

Flash was in a spot of trouble.

The disaster in downtown Sydney was the result of one man. A very angry, powerful man. He had glowing red eyes and immense strength. With a wave of his hand an office complex had collapsed. Flash hadn’t seen strength like this since Superman.

Flash headed towards the man at superspeed, and prepared to punch him at a rate of several thousand times per second. The man abruptly reached out at an impossible speed, and grasped Flash by the neck, tossing him away like a rag doll. If Jay hadn’t vibrated his way through the rubble, he would have had his neck snapped in two.

"Bring me Green Lantern!", yelled the man. Energy erupted from his eyes, vaporizing what was left of an adjacent wall.

Flash regrouped, and decided keeping his distance was the smarter move. "Hey!," yelled Jay, "What’s wrong with me? Why does GL get the attention?"

The immense man turned to look at Flash. "I am Grayven, son of Darkseid! I demand Green Lantern’s presence, or else this city will perish!" Energy bombarded Flash’s position from Grayven, but he had already moved away.

Flash grabbed a piece of masonry and flung it at Grayven. He batted it away with ease. His reflexes were immeasurable. The day’s running had taken a toll on Flash already; this battle was taking him to his limit, Speed Force or no.

Grayven fired another eye blast at Flash, who moved to avoid it. He ended up being clipped on the foot by another blast, obviously a herding maneuver from Grayven. Falling to the ground, Flash realized he might have fought his last...unless his message had gotten through.

Darkness fell over the surrounding area, black as night. This was all the confirmation Flash needed to know that help was here.

"Hey, leave the old guy alone...he’ll probably be worth a bit on Antique Roadshow someday." White eyes and a white mouth formed out of the blackness, the mouth smiling.

Obsidian had arrived. He wasn’t alone. His darkness parted to allow a burst of brilliant light to come through and strike Grayven in the chest. He was thrown back into the remnants of another collapsed building, energy crackling in his wake. Mikaal Tomas, one of the heroes known as Starman, floated at the outer edge of the parted darkness, his sonic crystal glowing from his chest.

"Guess that Predictor worked like a charm, huh?," said Obsidian. "If you can call all this a success." His darkness flowed away from the surrounding area, and formed itself into a humanoid form, jet black except for the white eyes and mouth. "Australia seems to always get its butt handed to it by aliens."

"We’ve got a more pressing problem," said Starman. "The cosmic energy I hit him with won’t keep him down for more than a few more seconds. We need to concentrate our energies towards containing his threat."

"Mikaal’s right," said Flash. "We need Alan here. His power is the only thing that could contain Grayven. Either him or Green Lantern. Grayven seems to have a beef with him."

Rubble exploded outwards as Grayven faced the trio. "For that, alien...you die."

Flash looked at Obsidian. "Did Alan get the call?"

Obsidian’s face turned grim. "I hope so."

Grayven’s eyes glowed more brightly than before, as if he had been holding back up to now. Obsidian, Starman and Flash prepared to move...

...when everything went white...

...and faded to black.

Purple energy erupted out of the air, illuminating the night. In the midst of the coruscating light, Hourman was thrown unceremoniously onto wet grass. He felt tired and weak, barely able to hold his head off the ground. He barely remembered how he had gotten where he was...wherever here was.

Slowly, he was able to get up onto his knees. He looked over his surroundings. He was on a field of grass bordered by low stone walls. Streetlights shone at intervals along the walls. The moonlight of the evening made an eerie halflight of the area. Hourman got to his feet and staggered towards the closest stone wall. He was a head taller than the wall, and was able to see over it easily.

He saw a street like any other...except for the high barb wire security fence at the end of the street. Spotlights shone from it as a line of people shambled along through the main security gate built into the fence. A large monitor was suspended over the gate, detailing some kind of news updates. The date at the bottom of the screen read December 5, 2002. Men who Hourman guessed were guards stood along the line, ready to fall upon the crowd at the slightest sign of dissent. The uniforms were jet black, with a silver helmet that totally encased their heads. They were armed with a kind of baton, which seemed to hum with energy. They wore a symbol that Hourman could not clearly make out.

Where the hell did the Trapper put me now?, thought Hourman bitterly. He had seen the Trapper kill that butler, unable to do anything to stop it, then found himself here a moment later. Why? What does that sadistic maniac have to gain by leaving me here? And where is here?

Suddenly, a man in the lineup made a run for it. Several guards were pursuing him when a loud voice boomed. "CEASE PURSUIT. THIS ONE IS MINE."

A large figure came out of the sky, descending onto the fleeing man with amazing speed. The man was grabbed by the figure, and taken up into the sky. Hourman lost sight of them in the black night. Seconds later, a bloodcurdling scream was heard. The figure returned to the ground, without the man.

The figure landed in the light, where Hourman was better able to see the figure. He could see it was a man...a man who looked very familiar. The symbol on his black uniform was also visible. The symbol was a kind of stylized bat.

Hourman looked closer and saw he recognized the figure.

It was Superman.

Next Issue: History has changed...and not for the better. And in the midst of the dark times...a new Justice Society is born! But this isn’t your father’s JSA...in Time’s Shadow, Part 2!