Faux DC! - Titles - Minis - Miss America #1

Legendary member of the Justice Society of America, Joan Dale-Trevor fought injustice during World War II. Still youthful thanks to the magic of the mysterious Trevor Island, she still fights for truth, justice, and the American Way as the Marvelous

Issue #1

The American Dream

Part One

Written By Paul Daimler

In the fall, New Athens, Virginia looks like a Norman Rockwell postcard. As the leaves on the trees are turning orange and gold and red as the weather cools down, the golden sun rays grow longer and deeper, suggesting the earlier nights to come.

It was part of the city’s charm, and one of the things that Joan Dale Trevor had always loved about it. So much that when her husband had first brought her here to his family’s ancestral home shortly after their wedding, she had insisted that they leave Washington, D.C. for New Athens. The stately mansion with it’s sprawling gardens and big yards had seemed the ideal place to raise the big family Joan and her husband Derek had planned.

Of course, the big family part hadn’t worked out quite the way they planned. Joan tried not to be bitter about this, but on an afternoon like today, where everything was picture perfect and so nice, it was difficult to not have children and grandchildren to share it with.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Derek Trevor asked from behind the wheel as they pulled to a stop at the new multiplex movie theater.

“Just thinking about Lyta.” Joan replied, smiling weakly. “I dreamed about her again last night. I dreamed she was in trouble.”

“I dream she’s in trouble every night.” Derek’s voice was tough to read. But, Joan could hear the sadness just beneath it’s nearly even tone. “Have since the day she left with Hector for the Dreaming. And, more so now that he’s back from wherever he was and doesn’t seem to know where Lyta is.”

“Lyta is fine.” Joan said, “She’s with Daniel. In the Dreaming. You know that as well as I do. She’s appeared to us enough in our dreams.”

“Why is it so hard to believe? You were dating an immortal Amazon queen and fighting gods and monsters when we first met during World War II. And, we’re both still young and vital, even though you’re over ninty and I’m in my eighties.” Joan said, looking across the parking lot to the glowing marquee along the front of theater. “Lyta’s birth mother was an avatar of the Furies of myth and looks even younger than we do. And, I can transmute anything into anything I can think of for short periods of time. It’s a strange world we live in Derek.”

“Let’s not have this discussion right now.” Derek’s voice had grown tight and controlled. “It’s our big night out. We’re going to see the new Gabrielle Cabrini movie, then we’re going to have a nice dinner, and then we’re going to go home and make beautiful passionate love. Let’s not ruin that.”

Joan smiled at him, rewarding him the smile that had captured his heart once he’d realized there was life after Wonder Woman. “OK. By the way, Steve and Etta called this morning after you took your truck in to be serviced. They’re going to be in the area next week and wanted to get together.”

“Steve has an interview with the security company here that does all the background checks and security clearances for government civil jobs.”

“It would be nice to have them close. With his father gone, he’s the last family I have.”

Joan nodded. She was in the same boat. All of her family was gone as well. She’d been an only child and her parents had passed away long ago. There were some cousins, but she hadn’t really known any of them and they’d never been close.

As they got out of their car, Joan could hear a commotion down by the front of the theater.

At the box office, Joan could see someone pointing what looked like a shotgun at the person on the other side of the glass while two other people were commanding the people waiting in line to get on the ground.

“Call the police on your cell phone,” Joan said as the air around her began to shimmer and sparkle. “In the meantime, I think I’ll lend a hand.”

The shimmering effect around Joan Dale Trevor started at Joan’s feet and slowly worked it’s way up, as it moved her comfortable sneakers were replaced by blue slippers and her comfortable slacks were replaced by bare leg and a red and white striped shirt. As the shimmering reached the top of her head, Joan Dale Trevor was gone having been replaced by Miss America.

“Hopefully short enough work that we can still catch the 6:30 showing so we don’t miss our dinner reservation.”

“No sweat honey. I should be able to keep them distracted long enough for the police to get here and arrest them properly.”

“It’s still odd getting used to the idea that you still have those powers.” Derek said, dialing 911 from his cell phone. Miss America had already dashed off and hadn’t heard what her husband had said.

Shortly after the House Un-American Committee had blackmailed the JSA into retirement, Joan Dale had publicly revealed her identity and admitted that her transmutation powers had faded. However, that had not been the case. Joan’s powers had remained intact, she had only pretended to lose them in hopes of living a normal life as wife and mother. Until the Trevor’s recent abduction by Phillip Decker*, Joan had only used her powers three times since the 1950’s. One had been in the mid-60’s when Dr. Psycho had attacked them and taken their son. She had fought valiantly, but Dr. Psycho was more powerful. Then again during the Crisis of the Anti-Monitor and during the alien Invasion. During the Crisis she had blamed her returning powers on the weird time fluctuations the Anti-Monitor’s attack on Earth had created. During the Invasion she had claimed it a temporary effect of the meta-gene bomb the aliens had detonated. All lies. She had just hidden her powers, using them subtly and in secret all of these years—in hopes of protecting her family.

Crossing the parking lot, Miss America looked even younger than the 40 something she appeared to be as Joan Dale Trevor. Her transmutation powers had enabled her to turn the clock back on herself, without the normal time limitations her other transmutations came with. Still, she normally kept herself in line with Derek’s age, so that they always only looked to be nine years apart. Thanks to Trevor Island Derek was still youthful. For that Joan was grateful. He was the love of her life and she didn’t want to contemplate a life without him. Although she knew that at some point, even their greatly reduced and slowed down aging wouldn’t keep them from death.

“Nobody moves and nobody gets hurt!” One of the gunman in charge of the crowd said.

“Nondescript hoods.” Miss America muttered to herself as she came to stop at the edge of the parking lot, where the first of the people were hunched down.

“Normally, this is where we would exchange banter and we’d go about the pretense of a fight.” Miss America said, “But, I’ve had a long day, and I’m mostly looking forward to a relaxing evening with my husband watching a romantic comedy. So, let’s skip all the required scripting and villain-hero posturing, and get this done with. You guys aren’t even super-villains. You’re just common armed robbers.”

“You’re gonna get shot lady!” The gunman at the box office said, spinning around and pointing his shotgun at her. “NOW GET DOWN! I don’t care if you’re wearing a costume or not! You ain’t Wonder Woman.”

“I don’t know why everyone feels the need to always point that out. Just because I didn’t get to officially join the JSA as anything other than their secretary until after she went back to her own time, and just because people thought I came along after her—even though I was actually operating several months before her, doesn’t mean I’ve ever at any point wanted to be Wonder Woman.” Miss America sighed, “Others may have tried to make me her replacement or her substitute, but I’ve always been my own woman.”

“What guns?” Miss America winked at them as halos of light flashed around her hands and the air between her and the gunmen sparkled.

“WHAT THE--?!” The main gunman said finding his shotgun suddenly replaced with a king sized boa constrictor. “NO!”

The boa constrictor wrapped its self around him, bringing him to his knees in front of the box office as he fought against the snake.

The other two gunmen found themselves in similar positions as their own guns became giant snakes.

In the distance Miss America heard the sound of approaching sirens. She estimated they would be here and ready to take possession of these thugs in about five minutes. That should be more than enough time. If she had transmuted the guns into inanimate objects, the transformation would have remained for several hours. However, making them “living” objects would last much shorter. Ten to fifteen minutes at best. When the Amazon scientists had run tests on her powers back in the 40’s, they had theorized that having to create the illusion of life made the transformation less stable and therefore more likely to fall apart and revert sooner. The shortest transformations were always transforming air molecules into solid objects. She’d often tried turning the air into hand cuffs around criminals wrists and ankles, but that was a five minute transformation at best.

“That didn’t take long at all.” He commented looking at the criminals on the ground fighting against the snakes. The crowd had started standing up and moving to the side, away from their would-be tormentors and the snakes. “Snakes Joanie?”

“I figured snakes for snakes. Plus, boa constrictors would keep them busy while the cops get here.” Miss America shrugged. “If you want to go up and buy our tickets to the movie, I’ll stay out here chat with the police a bit and then join you inside. Make sure to get popcorn with lots of butter.”

“Not tonight. Just a regular is fine.” Miss America smiled, giving her husband a quick kiss before he went up to the box office.

“When I’m dressed like this it’s Miss America.” She replied, “Well, it seems these boys here were going to rob the box office.”

With a wave of her hand, the snakes became stuffed snakes. The transmutation was simple, although it wouldn’t extend the transformation much longer. It would, however, give the police enough time to cuff the men before the snakes became guns again.

Miss America had publicly revealed her identity before the House Un-American Committee back in the 1950’s. She’d been the only hero to do, and the main reason she’d done so was that at the time she was working for the government as their liaison to the JSA. Her position as “secretary” had long since been taken over by the first Black Canary and her previous job with F.B.I. and her engagement to Admiral Derek Trevor of the Army (well before his division was officially called the Air Force) who was soon to be a General of Military Intelligence. It had made since to have her act as the liaison and even more since to publicly reveal, since the government already knew that Joan Dale and Miss America were one and the same.

It had rarely been a problem that her secret identity was public knowledge. Although, the three times it had been a problem made Joan wonder whether publicly revealing had been such a good idea. Perhaps it would have been better just to stop operating like the rest of the JSA. Hippolyta had gone back to her own time, even though she had no secret identity—at least none that anyone knew of.

Once the police had taken the gunmen away, Miss America transmuted her costume back into her regular clothes and back to her preferred age as Joan Dale and made her way into the theater to meet her husband.

The sun had set and a cool starry night had fallen over New Athens, Virginia, while the parking lot lights cast orange pools of light. “You say that about every movie made after 1980.” Joan said, laughing lightly. “You have to understand that movies have changed.”

“Yeah. Into crap.” Derek said gruffly. “Sometimes Joanie I wonder if this extended life extra youth is all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Of course it is. Don’t be silly dear.” Joan replied, “We have seen changes that we could have never dreamed of when we were children. And, we will get to see changes that the children of today would have never dreamed of.”

“I don’t know Joanie.” Derek shook his head, “What kind of life would this have been for the children? No wonder Lyta has run off to wherever.”

“It would have been fine. Lyta is in the Dreaming. You know that. With her son Daniel.” Joan replied, a bit more optimistically than she felt. “She will never grow old, she will always be alive and vibrant. She’s far more gifted than we are in that way. Trevor Island has only extended our lives and slowed the aging process… not stopped it. We will die eventually. But, Lyta will live forever, as she was and how she always will be.”

Joan frowned, as they made their way to their car. She did agree in her heart, but when Lyta had first followed her one-true love Hector Hall to the dreaming, how could she have said no? The happiness in Lyta’s eyes had shone clearly—having been reunited with her supposedly dead lover. And even after Hector returned, when Lyta chose to stay in the Dreaming with their son Daniel, Joan had understood and supported the decision. She would have gone to the Dreaming herself in a heart-beat to protect Lyta.

“Derek,” Joan sighed. “You’re too old to be having a mid-life crisis.”

“It’s not a mid-life crisis Joan. I’m just feeling bored. We’re rich. We’re well-to-do. We’re retired.” Derek shrugged.

“You’re just lonesome for the children.” Joan said, taking his hand and squeezing tightly, “Steve and Etta will be here soon.”

“It is.” Joan replied, “Steve is your nephew and you and his mother’s sister helped raise him. You are like a father to him. And, we all adore Etta. I remember you remarking the first time she attended dinner with him, when she was still his attaché, that one day they would be married.”

“I just miss the kids. And having grandkids.” Derek replied finally as they reached their car.

“Me too. You know,” Joan said, smiling warmly at Derek from across the top of the car as they got in, “It’s not too late for us to try for another one. We’re young enough.”

“You are a naughty one Mrs. Dale-Trevor.” Derek laughed, blushing slightly. “And far more forward than the woman I married.”

“Please don’t tell me that after all of these years, you bought that demure act.” Joan laughed.

The laughter lightened the mood as they drove back to Trevor Hall, as the moon rose higher in the sky.

In the long sprawling front yard of Trevor Hall lights danced in the air, sparks of bright orange and red. Flashes of hot white light.

“It looks like bullets and bracelets..” Joan whispered as her eyes trained on the flashing white pinpricks of light.

“She is.” Joan said, “Park the car and wait here honey. I’m going to go and see what’s going on. If I’m not back in five minutes, I want you to use the emergency communicator in the glove box and contact the JSA.”

A flash of sparkling light rippled and in Joan Dale’s place stood Miss America.

Miss America ran across the yard, moving gracefully as her blue cape and red and white striped skirt rippled in the breeze. From behind her domino mask, she tried to figure out what was going on.

In the air, three women danced, fire and electricity dancing from their hands. One the ground, one woman stood her ground. In the flashing light and darkness it was easy to see full body gold chain-mail and molten blonde hair dancing wildly.

“Nice to see you Miss America.” Helena Kosmotos, The Golden Age Fury, said blocking a bolt of lightning with a golden bracelet. “Sorry to bring a party to your front door without calling ahead. But, I didn’t realize the Mad Muses were quite so closely behind me.”

“Who are they?” Miss America asked, taking a fighting stance. The air around her clenched fists sparkled and glowed.

The sound of crashing thunder and crackling lightning filled the area, making it hard for Miss America to hear or think clearly.

“The Mad Muses are three daughters of Harmonia and Cadmus. Borne while their mother was infected with the madness of her father Ares. Upon their birth, Harmonia hid them away in her father’s Hellish lair the Areopagus. Raised there on their own, already tainted by madness, the sound of war drums and armies clashes filled the air and tormented their minds.” Fury said, her golden armor seemed to glow with each flash of electricity dancing from the hands of one of the Mad Muses. “Eventually they escaped to spread insanity and hatred throughout the world. They are the Muses who inspire nightmares and horrors, inspiring criminals and murders. The Furies have had many brushes with the Mad Muses. Lately, however, they have operated as agents of the Prince of Dreams.”

“Thank you for the mythology lesson.” Miss America said. “More importantly, how do I stop them?”

“You cannot stop us foolish mortal.” One of the Mad Muses cackled. Her long black hair danced wildly about her head as the lightning dancing from her fingers and seeped from her eyes. “We are daughters of the gods, granddaughters of Ares God of War. We cannot be stopped by one such as you.”

“But, one such as I,” Fury said, “Is far better equipped to take care of you.”

Fury’s face rippled as she allowed the anger to overtake her. Throwing her head back, she screamed. In the blink of an eye she had transformed into a giant red-black female demon with massive bat-like wings and terrifying claws.

Miss America took a step gasping; it had been at least fifty years since she’d seen Fury transform from a lovely blonde girl into the horrible avatar of Tisiphone, The Blood Avenger, one of the Furies of myth.

“How about me? Am I a match for you foolish goddesses?” Tisiphone screamed, her voice was like chewing broken glass.

“We fear you not Tisiphone! You are bound to weak and pliable mortal flesh, impaired by it.” The black haired muse with lightning replied.

“Aye, I am bound to mortal flesh Melaphone.” Tisiphone retorted, “But, these claws can still slice and tear the flesh of little gods.”

The fearsome black claws of Tisiphone tore at the Mad Muses, missing Melaphone, but striking her fire-haired sister Aenea who’s eyes blazed with the fires of Hades. Aenea screamed in pain, the dagger claws burying themselves into her flesh and knocking her to the ground where she landed with a thud.

“You can fight all you wish Tisiphone, but the flesh and bone of your avatar has been marked by our master and lord. He wishes them delivered to him.” Polyanthia, who’s hair was a mass of writhing snake, purred, floating in the sky as dark clouds of smoke and mist billowed around her. “Relinquish her to us and come to the Dreamscape with us. You should find our master quite desirable to work for. Far superior to the Olympians.”

“The Furies answer to no god nor man.” Tisiphone hissed through sharp needle-like teeth. “Which is why Zeus exiled us to Erebus.”

Tisiphone struck again, this time with both claws tearing through the already grounded Aenea. Blood flew from the goddess’s wounds.

Miss America merely stood back, watching the battle between Tisiphone and the Mad Muses unfold. Against threats like gunmen and Nazis and super-villains she could easily hold her own. But, her transmutation powers had never had much luck against gods and mystical creatures.

“Now… take your sister. And leave this place. Tell your master he shall not have the flesh of my avatar.” Tisiphone spread her claws out wide, her eyes glowing bright red and malevolent.

“You may have warded us off Tisiphone, but remember your avatar isn’t always so quick to invoke you and relinquish control. What our master wants, our master gets.” Polyanthia replied, lifting Aenea into her arms.

Tisiphone turned toward him, her lips parting back in a snarl, “How dare you speak the name of the Christian usurper god in my presence.”

“Calm down Tisiphone. I think it’s time for you to relinquish control to Helena again.” Miss America said, the energy around her hands flaring out. She didn’t really know what she could throw at Tisiphone if she decided to punish Derek. But, she knew she would try.

“You both reek of Gaea.” She whispered, “The aura of the gods surround you both.”

But, Tisiphone offered no answer. Again faster than the eye could register movement, Tisiphone was gone and Fury stood there in her gold armor looking slightly dazed.

“Are you OK?” Miss America asked, going over to the girl, taking her by the arm. The gold amor was cold against Miss America’s touch.

“Just a little woozy.” Fury replied, “I remember everything from when I become Tisiphone now. Not like in the old days where I wasn’t even aware the transformation took place. But, still anything through her eyes is like trying to see through a mile of muddy water.”

“Let’s get her inside and get her in a chair.” Miss America said to Derek.

“OK. I didn’t call the JSA.” Derek mumbled, “I know it was longer than five minutes, but I figured the two of you could handle it.”

“Well, Fury handled it. I mostly just stood here and felt worthless. But, at least the JSA isn’t here.” Miss America said as she and Derek led Fury to the front door.

“Sir? Madame?” Heathcliff looked shell-shocked. “I think I deluded something on the front yard, and I—“ He stopped as he saw Joan in her Miss America costume and Fury in her shining armor. “Oh, I see. That was real.”

“What brings you out this way tonight?” Miss America asked, as a flash transformed her back into Joan Dale-Trevor. The only of her transformations that seemed to have no time limit was transmuting her clothing into her Miss America uniform and the other cosmetic changes that went with it. “It’s been simply years.”

“Since October 19th, 1967 when I dropped Lyta off on your doorstep.” Fury said, her voice hollow. “And, I never looked back. I thought she’d be safe here.”

“She’s been stolen.” Fury said. A slight waver rippled across her and in an instance a slender blonde girl in her mid-twenties was sitting in the chair.

Joan shivered. Helena Kosmotos had not aged a day since the night she had appeared on Joan and Derek’s doorstop with a crying writhing baby wrapped in a thin pink blanket. Never in her life would Joan forget the look in Helena’s eyes as she handed her child over, trying to hold back tears while begging Joan to take Lyta and protect her.

“The Prince of Dreams has stolen Lyta from the Dreaming. Kidnapped her and taken her to his Dreamscape where he plans on marrying her and siring with her a child—one who will carry the power to destroy reality.” Helena breathed.

“It’s true.” Helena replied, “And I need your help Joan. You and I have to go into the Dreamscape to save Lyta.”

NEXT ISSUE: Miss America and Fury traveled to the haunted ghost town that houses the gateway to the Dreamscape. But, the monsters that lurk in the town promise to make entry to the Dreamscape far more difficult than either of them expected.