Faux DC! - Titles - Minis - Miss America #2

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 #2

The American Dream

Part Two

Written By Paul Daimler

Joan Dale-Trevor’s mind whirled with confusion. It was all coming at her so fast.

One moment, she and her husband had been coming home from dinner and a movie, and the next she had found the Golden Age Fury, Helena Kosmatos on the front lawn of Trevor Hall fighting off the Mad Muses—three mad daughters of the goddess Harmonia and her husband Cadmus. Now, Helena was sitting in an armchair, asking Joan to accompany her to something called the Dreamscape where Helena’s birth daughter—Joan and her husband Derek’s adopted daughter, Lyta was being held captive by someone called the Prince of Dreams.

“Lyta came to me in a dream.” Helena said, standing. Despite the fact that Helena had been a teenager in the 1940’s, she looked no older than when Joan had seen her in 1967, on the night she’d left an angry crying baby Lyta in Joan and Derek’s care. “She asked me to get to you. She said she couldn’t contact you.”

“Supergirl told me the same thing.” Joan said quietly, remembering that Supergirl had told her that Lyta had appeared to her in a dream and asked her to help Joan and Derek while they’d been prisoners of Phillip Decker. Lyta had told Supergirl that she was unable to appear to Derek or Joan.

“She only had a moment.” Helena said, “And, she couldn’t explain much. But, she’s being held by the Prince of Dreams in his Dreamscape realm. He plans to take over our reality with his dreamworld. And he has kidnapped Lyta, planning to take her as his unwilling bride and to father a son—who he feels is destined to rule on after him as the King of Dreams.”

“I heard she’d gone crazy, but…” Derek said, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize that it was this bad.”

“She is.” Derek said, looking unhappy. “She’s labeled as unstable and delusional in her F.B.I. files.”

Derek frowned, “Well, Joanie…” Derek sighed, “I guess you aren’t the only one who’s been keeping secrets all of these years. While you were hiding the fact you still had your Miss America powers, I was hiding the fact that I’ve known all along where Helena was. And, have been keeping tabs on her.”

“What?!” Joan exploded, unable to control her temper, although her mind told her she should do so.

“Back when we first came back from Trevor Island with Lyta twenty years ago, I used my government contacts to find out what was known about Helena.” Derek said, “I just had to know if Helena was going to try and reclaim her and take her away from us. After what happened to Derek Jr and Angela…” Derek turned away from Joan, “I just wanted to know that we weren’t going to lose Lyta too.”

“You’ve known all of these years?” Joan whispered. “And you didn’t say anything? Not even when Lyta was trying to locate the truth about her parentage? After Hector died the first time? When she was desperately trying to find her birth mother?”

“Yes.” Derek said, “I didn’t want to hide it, but I had too. I didn’t want Lyta to know that her mother was insane, locked away in a mental hospital in England, unnaturally young and delusional. They had found her in her Fury armor in a moldering castle in the English moors, standing over the dead body of a man she claimed was the reincarnation of some ancient Greek twit.”

“Orestes.” Helena whispered. “He was the resurrected Orestes. He who had thwarted the Furies and had mighty Zeus and his guile-less daughter Athena diminish the powers of the Furies—stripping them of their true name and hiding them beneath the name of Eumenides, or the Kindly Ones. When they rebelled and attempted to reclaim their glory, Zeus and Athena imprisoned them within Ares’s Areopagus. When they called upon me, after Lyta’s birth, it was to slay Orestes for setting in to place their downfall and imprisonment. And, after slaying him, I would retain my powers and strength, without the curse of the Furies, I would continue to channel the power of Tisiphone without her unnatural power over me, and I would be eternally young. But, while slaying Orestes, he outsmarted me and I was left broken… and trapped.”

“That is completely different. My powers were what hurt Derek Jr and Angela. I had to shield Lyta at all costs… That is different than withholding the truth of her mother… from her and from me.” Joan said quietly. How many nights during her pregnancy, before she’d gone to the Dreaming to live with Hector had Lyta cried herself to sleep—wondering if she’d ever find her real mother? To know that all along Derek had known… Joan quickly realized that this was a point she should let go. Helena was here, now, and she said that Lyta was in trouble. That had to take precedence over Derek withholding information. “We can talk about this later.”

“We have to enter the Prince of Dream’s Dreamscape. And once we’re in, we have to find his palace and rescue Lyta.” Helena said, “It won’t be easy.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Joan said, “Perhaps we should contact Hector and Diana.”

“NO!” Helena said, her eyes widening with fear. “We cannot get anyone else to help with this. Only us. Wonder Woman will be of no help. And Hector…” Helena shook her head. “Lyta’s husband would only be slain. Only you and I are properly equipped to enter the Dreamscape.”

“I can’t see how we’re better suited…” Joan said hesitantly. “Wonder Woman is far more powerful than I.”

“I cannot explain.” Helena said, gripping Joan’s hand tightly. “Only Lyta’s mother can enter after her. Since, we are both her mother… only we can do this.”

Joan turned to her husband, her lips tightly pressed. “I don’t either. But, if Lyta needs our help…” Joan turned back to Helena, “How do we get to this Dreamscape?”

As they looked at the landscape below, the bright full moon lit it ghostly, so that it looked like a phantom world.

Joan had transformed to Miss America and watched silently from the plane’s window. Beside her Derek piloted the small private plane, heading toward the area in Texas where Helena had indicated the entrance to the Dreamscape could be found. Helena flew alongside the plane in her golden Fury armor, the high velocity making her blonde hair dance behind her like a golden banner. It was scary how much she looked like Lyta in this moment.

Joan had said barely three words to Derek since their flight had begun, her mind whirling with the fact that he had withheld the truth of Helena’s whereabouts all of these years. She knew that she had hidden that she had retained her powers all of these years, but it was different. No matter what he had said, no matter what he might have said. It was different. Plain and simple, and he knew it. In his heart Derek knew there was a huge difference between her hiding her powers—powers that had brought them much grief, and hiding the fact that he knew where to find Helena Kosmatos all of these years.

“Are we not going to talk?” Derek said finally, as they cross over the Texas state border.

“I don’t know.” Joan replied, “I am angry. But, I don’t want to argue. Not now. Not when I’m going into unknown territory to save our daughter. Not when for all we know, I might not come back from this.”

“I have to be realistic. It’s what you’re thinking. And, it’s part of the reason you aren’t pushing the issue or the argument. You don’t back down from an argument under normal circumstances.” Joan said. “The only other time you backed down was after Armageddon showed up and killed Angela. When I was leaving to find him and kill him. You wanted to fight… but you didn’t because you knew that I was hopelessly outmatched against him. He was a match for Hippolyta—had battled her to a stand-still several times—almost killed her once. You didn’t think I had it in me to defeat him. Not when your beloved Hippolyta had barely done it.”

“Perhaps.” Joan replied, “But, it’s true. I have always known that I was always your second choice. And, that compared to Hippolyta I’d always pale. She left, returning to the future and her rightful place. When she returned several years ago, I was always secretly afraid that she would return for you. And, take you away. But, obviously once she was back here in her own time and place, she had no time for retired Admiral Derek Trevor.”

“When she died, you went into mourning for days. You never said that’s what it was, but it was.” Joan looked at Derek, the domino mask around her eyes glittering and fading so that she could meet Derek’s eye to eye. “I have always known that I come second in your heart. And, that night I went to avenge Angela, I knew that you did not expect me to come back. I knew it then. I know it now. You only married me because in your heart you have always felt superior. I may have great powers, but I’ve never led you to question your worth as a man. Not the way Hippolyta did. Yet, you’ve never loved me as much as you loved Hippolyta.”

“Yet, I succeeded where Hippolyta did not. I killed Armageddon. I turned all the oxygen in that Nazi’s butcher’s lungs to acid and his blood into oil. It only took twenty seconds for it to kill him. By the time the transmutation reversed, he was dead. Just like our Angela. Our poor little girl—who he crushed. He crushed her skull.” Joan’s voice took a cold hateful edge. “All because I was Miss America and once stood beside Hippolyta in opposing him. He couldn’t get at Hippolyta, so he would get at me instead. And, he stole our daughter from us.”

“You can’t lie to me Derek. I saw it that night in your eyes. Part of you was hoping that I wouldn’t come back. Just like you did after Derek Jr. was taken.” Joan said, looking away from her husband. “You blamed me again for him.”

“Our son might still be alive.” Derek said, although he did not sound convinced.

“It’s been nearly fifty years since Dark Angel took him.” Joan said, “I doubt he’s alive. Look what Dark Angel did to Donna just a few years ago. She only survived because she’s an avatar of the Titans of Myth and Druscilla trained her like an Amazon. Derek Jr was only a normal five year old boy.”

“Let’s not hash this out. Not right now.” Derek said. “Not when things have been so good between us for so long now.”

“Have they been?” Joan asked, “I was thinking earlier how happy we are. But, now, sitting here next to you, I’m not sure if I’m not just deluding myself. Trying to convince myself things are good when nothing ever has been.”

“Things have been good Joan.” Derek said quietly. “You know that they have been. And, you should know that after all of these years I love you. Maybe not how I loved Hippolyta, but more in many ways than I could have ever loved her. Hippolyta wasn’t real. She was an icon. She was an image. She was an ideal of something I would never be able to achieve. I didn’t really know Hippolyta. She was Wonder Woman.”

“And, yet, you married Miss America.” Joan’s domino mask appeared back on her face. “An iconic name. A representation of the American dream realized.”

“No. I married Joan Dale. The woman beneath the mask.” Derek said, “You are just confused. And, that alone should be enough to convince you to not go with that madwoman into some dream world alone. Surely someone from the Justice Society. Diana has that lasso of truth. Hector is Dr. Fate. Either of them would be an asset on a rescue mission like this.”

“Yeah, well I don’t trust that nutcase.” Derek said, priming the plane for landing on a solitary airstrip. He had gotten them clearance to land on a friend’s private airstrip in Northwest Texas. From there, Helena indicated they’d have to go about a hundred miles to reach the portal to the Dreamscape.

They left the plane, Miss America wrapping her flowing blue cape tightly around her to ward off the chill in the air.

“Which way from here?” Miss America asked, looking around the desolate desert area with cactus and scabby little trees all around.

“That way.” Fury said, pointing northeast. The wind swirled Fury’s long platinum hair, making it dance madly in the night air.

Miss America shivered, noting that Fury was pointing at nothing but the dark night sky.

“I’m not sure about this.” Derek said from where he stood next to the plane.

Miss America went over to Derek. He took her hands in his own, squeezing them tightly as they faced each other.

Derek’s expression bitter and unhappy. “We both know you might not come back from this. This might be the last time we see each other. Take that stupid mask off. I want to see your real face.”

The domino mask disappeared beneath the sparkling ripple and Miss America’s smooth youthful face was replaced by a forty-something lightly lined face.

“I’m sorry I said some of what I said on the flight out.” Joan said, “I should have talked to you about those things a long time ago and not before going off on a rescue mission.”

“It’s OK.” Derek replied, “We’ll talk about all of it when we get home. After Lyta settles in and we’ve had plenty of time to visit with her.”

“I love you too. Now go get our girl and bring her home.” Derek said, leaning in and giving his wife a passionate kiss.

The journey through the desert took nearly an hour, with Miss America having to hang on to Fury.

“We are almost there.” Fury said, as they landed. “We should continue on foot.”

“Where is there?” Miss America asked, the wind ripping at her cape. She felt cold, her red and white striped skirt and red sleeveless top felt especially skimpy in the cold night.

“Grover’s Corners.” Fury replied, “Originally these were the sacred lands where the Native Americans of this region would go for vision quest and to commune with their spirit gods. During the initial push westward by the Europeans and new Americans, it was the site of a bloody battle between the tribe it was sacred too. Many died on all sides, but at the end a small tribe called Owatu was obliterated. The entire tribe died on that spot. The Americans removed the bodies, tossing them into a canyon not far from here to rot. They built a small western town here—calling it James Town. It was one of the bloodiest towns in the American West, and more men hung on it’s gallows than in any other city this side of Dodge.”

Miss America looked at the dark town sprawled out before them, dark buildings were shapeless blights against the night horizon, stealing what little light there was even as the full moon above shone far more brightly than possible.

“In the early 1900’s it had become a small ranching community, however, the cattle was frequently found dead—butchered and disemboweled.” Fury continued, her voice empty and hollow. Her clear blue eyes focused on the dark town ahead. “Then in the 1950’s, it was renamed Grover’s Corner and a small Bible college was built… for a time it was prosperous and began to grow.”

“It looks empty and abandoned now. There are no lights down there.” Miss America whispered. She felt a chill creep down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. There was something wrong with that town.

“Then in 1963 a disturbed young man named Nelson Richards climbed into the bell tower of the campus chapel and began shooting. He killed sixteen of his fellow students and seriously wounded nineteen others before turning the rifle on himself and blowing his brains out. Journals found later indicated his dreams had been disturbed and filled with images of dark demons and angry spirit gods. The authorities concluded he must have been mentally unbalanced. Townspeople decried he was possessed by Satan, the greatest of the fallen angels in Christian mythology and sometime alleged king of Hell.”

“I remember hearing that.” Miss America replied, “It was three years before Charles Whitman killed all those people in Austin.”

“The town suffered greatly, but it appeared to be on a rebound. Then in 1979, five female students were murdered in their dorm rooms on Halloween Night by a serial killer wearing a Grim Reaper costume. The killer escaped, his or her identity never discovered. Then in 1985 there was a chemical spill and the people were evacuated. Most of them never came back.”

“Seventy-six year old Emily Webb-Gibbs died last summer. She was the last resident. Now the houses and the campus slowly decay and collect dust, forgotten.” Fury said, she began walking toward the town. “And the ghost of something dead.”

“There is a terrible ghost that lives in that town. Who haunts it’s street. It’s the pain of that ghost—that has made that town a doorway to the Dreamscape.” Fury said, “And the ghost is dangerous. It has teeth and claws and can hurt us.”

“A ghost?” Miss America asked quietly, “That can hurt us? What kind of ghost is it?”

“It’s the spirits of all the people who’ve died in that town. The hurt, the confused, the angry, the evil. All merged and combined into one horrible monstrous ghost that hunts the streets of Grover’s Corner.” Fury said.

“Is this the only way to get to Lyta? I don’t know that I want to go through a monstrous ghost just to go to a nightmare dimension. Is there an easier way?” Miss America asked, trailing Fury.

“There are only three entrances to the Dreamscape from our reality.” Fury said quietly. “There is one in the Australian Outback. One in the African Safari. And the other is in this town. We didn’t have time to go anywhere else. And, the ghosts and demons haunting those entrances are far worse than the ghost down there.”

“I’m not sure. The entire town is a supernatural and mystic hotspot. The gateway could be anywhere in there. Most likely it’s in whatever spot is the ghost’s anchor to that town.”

“What am I getting myself into here Helena? You know that I was always over my head when it came to the mystic and magical. That was you and Hippolyta’s world.” Miss America said.

“The Dreamscape will be difficult. We’re going into a living nightmare. The Prince of Dreams is mad, and his madness fills his world. If we don’t rescue Lyta and prevent their marriage, then the veils that separate his world from reality will shred and tear, and the nightmares will come spilling out and take over.” Fury said, “Our mission here goes beyond Lyta. The Olympian god Morpheus came down from Olympus to charge me with this duty, and our grandson Daniel appeared to me from the Dreaming. If the Dreamscape spills out and overtakes our reality, then the Dreaming will fall. Humanity will fall. We will all be slaves to the Prince of Dreams.”

“How does Lyta figure into this? You haven’t explained. Why Lyta?” Miss America asked. The dark town loomed closer and closer as they walked along the cracked neglected asphalt road.

“Our daughter has spent so much time in the Dreaming and gave birth to the new Lord of Dreams that her very nature has changed. She was always different and special… due to my unique nature as well as the nature of her father. There has always been magic in her blood due to her heritage.” Fury said, her golden armor shined dimly in the night. “And with her nature further altered… she is the key to the Prince of Dream’s plans.”

“Who is her father Helena? You never told us when you left her with us all those years ago.” Miss America asked.

“I cannot share that with you.” Fury replied quietly. “His identity bears no weight on our mission tonight or Lyta’s plight.”

So intent where they in their conversation and moving toward Grover’s Corner, neither Miss America nor Fury noticed the spectral forms rising from the desert behind them. The forms were in various shapes and sizes—animals, creatures, giant insects, people, and inanimate objects. They drew up behind the two women as they walked.

Miss America noticed the translucent chalk-colored glow from behind them first, spinning on her heels to find the phantom creatures behind them.

“Uh… Helena.” Miss America said, clenching her fists tightly. Glowing sparkling light appeared in globes around her fists. “I think we have company.”

Helena spun quickly, her increased speed bringing her beside Miss America in a matter of seconds.

“They’re some sort of spectral projects. Manifestations of the collective consciousness of the dead spirits trapped here.” Fury said, her armor took on an eerie sheen in the reflected light cast by the phantoms.

“I thought you said the big evil ghost down in that town was the collective consciousness of the dead spirits trapped here.” Miss America asked, her entire body tense with fear and dread. She wasn’t a supernatural hero. Her powers worked in the realm of pseudo-science.

“That’s the collective consciousness of the anger and hate and fear that lived in the town, wrapped around an insane killer.” Fury said quietly, “These are the people who died here after losing their way or with broken dreams.”

“And why are they attacking us?” Miss America said as one of the teddy bear shaped specters growled at her, showing rows of jagged phantom teeth.

“Confusion. They are under the thrall of the evil spirit down in the town. And at their core, the dead hate the living.” Fury said quietly.

“How do we fight them?” Miss America asked quietly, the air sparkling around her hands grew brighter.

“They are made of light and ectoplasm.” Fury replied, “Even that is susceptible to your powers.”

Miss America looked at the teddy bear ghost drawing closer and closer, it’s mouth getting wider and wider. It reminded Joan of a recurring nightmare she’d had as a child and an unnatural fear she’d nursed for a while that her teddy bear was going to maul her in the night. She’d been all of four.

She saw a clown, a weird quivering shadow, a tree with an evil grin, and a vampire. All creatures that had haunted her nightmares and fears as a small child.

“Helena,” Miss America said, turning toward Fury. Ghosts of Nazis, weird nebulous shapes, and creeping men with odd glares in their eyes shuffled toward her. “All of my ghosts over here are things I used to have nightmares about and be afraid of when I was a kid.”

“Mine, too.” Fury growled, that blazing fire in her eyes flaring brightly. Miss America recognized the battle rage that always slipped over Fury during battle—the one that had always scared them all back during World War II. It had been that anger and rage that had convinced Hippolyta to take the young woman under her wing and try to guide her. It had been the same anger and rage that had made Joan that much more willing to take Lyta with all those weird conditions back when she’d appeared on the Trevor’s doorsteps all those years ago. “Which means someone is rooting around in my head. I hate that!”

Fury screamed in rage and before Miss America knew it, she had transformed into the dark red skinning monster from myth, her blazing red eyes hateful as she dove into the writhing mass of the specters. Tisiphone sounded a battle cry as she tore through them.

With Fury’s attack, it caused Miss America’s approaching fears to go on attack. Remembering what Helena had said, Miss America tried to concentrate on the fact that they were made of ectoplasm and light—both tangible elements that she could transmute. Light would be fairly easy. But ectoplasm? She had no idea what it looked like. It always helped to have a mental image. She remembered all the battles with the Duke of Deception during the 1940’s where he’d sent ectoplasmic beasts out after them. She’d been able to transmute them. But, they had looked like people. Easy for her mind to grasp. These looked like weird chalk-drawings.

“They’re made of ectoplasm.” Miss America told herself aloud, “I used to transmute the Duke of Deceptions’s creations all the time.”

With supreme effort, she concentrated, the arcs of energy sparkling around her hands flashing brightly, the giant chalk bear bearing down on her flickering before transforming into sand and raining down on the ground in billowing clouds.

“That was incredibly easy.” Miss America said, concentrating on transforming the other chalk phantoms.

Beside her, Tisiphone tore through the chalk phantoms with her terrible claws, causing the chalk phantoms to make horribly groaning sounds as they broke apart and dissipated beneath the slashing motions of Tisiphone’s claws.

“It was too easy.” Miss America said, having transformed the last of the phantoms to sand. She stood among the sand that now covered the roadway, watching as Tisiphone ripped the last of the phantoms apart.

“The Chalk Phantoms are more than enough for the average person that wanders too far into my territory. But, I can see the two of you are slightly more than the average person. The Mad Muses warned the Prince of Dreams you would be coming here. So he sent me.”

Standing, blocking the road between them and Grover’s Corner was a tall rail-thin man with wax colored skin and shiny eyes buried deep in dark pits in a narrow haunted face. Shaggy unkempt hair fell around his long face, only drawing attention to his long thin neck. He wore loose-fitting black clothes and a creepy smile.

With a cry of rage, Tisiphone lunged at the man—her cloven red-black hooves carrying her faster than Miss America could easily follow. The man in black touched a single finger to Tisiphone’s forehead.

Tisiphone screamed, the sound horrible and as inhuman as the goddess’s form and appearance. Miss America covered her ears, watching in horror as Tisiphone faded, being replaced by Fury, who in turn faded to reveal Helena who collapsed in a pile on the roadtop.

“Gods, especially from the Greek pantheon, always overestimate their powers.” The man smiled widely, revealing rows of horrible sharp pointy teeth. He seemed to have row upon row of teeth and his awful grin seemed to grow bigger and bigger and bigger as he approached Miss America. “How will you fare Miss America? You’re no god. You’re just a mortal woman with extraordinary powers disguised as an idol of the American people.”

Miss America clenched her fists tightly, the light glittering and glowing brightly.

“I’ll do all right.” Miss America said, gritting her teeth and digging her heels in.

“Will you? When gods can’t stand up to the might of Mr. Chessire, what hope does a little girl from New Jersey have?” The man said, his smile getting bigger and bigger as he drew closer and closer to Miss America.

When he was almost upon her, Miss America realized that she was under some sort of mesmerism spell—caught under his spell—frozen by that ever-widening smile. But, despite realizing that, her legs and arms refused to move as her came nearer and nearer.

As he reached Miss America, Mr. Chessire removed a large butcher’s knife from a fold of his flowing black outfit and raised it high above his head.

“You are merely youthful. You’re not invulnerable. You’re not bulletproof. You’re just some girl who Gaia gave a little extra sip from the fountain of youth.” Mr. Chessire’s smile grew ever wider.

Miss America’s heart lurched as she felt her body refuse to move, even as she desperately tried to move out of the way of the knife raised high above Mr. Chessire’s head.

NEXT ISSUE: Miss America and Fury face off against Mr. Chessire while secrets of the past are revealed.