Faux DC! - Titles - Minis - Miss America #4

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 #4

The American Dream

Part Four

Written By Paul Daimler

The sound of Dark Angel’s cold laughter echoed down the staircase as she made her way down to the bottom of the stairs.

Miss America looked up at her, watching her descend—her sickly gray-white flesh looking paler against the blood-red crimson of her dress. Her sickly red eyes glowing malevolently.

Beside Miss America, Fury had transformed herself into Blood Avenger Tisiphone. Her black and red flesh shimmering in the pale moonlight dancing through the window of the house in the middle of Grover’s Corners, Texas. A small forgotten town that housed a thousand nightmares buried in the dusty outskirts of West Texas that was the gateway to the Dreamscape—where the Prince of Dreams had Miss America and Fury’s daughter Lyta Trevor-Hall captive.

To get this far, they had faced the Mad Muses, phantasms, and Mr. Chessire. They’d been triumphant so far—but none of the threats they’d faced was Dark Angel. Dark Angel was a deadly spirit from another dimension that had nearly destroyed them all several times during World War II. Not too long ago she’d kidnapped Donna Troy and subjected her to a thousand horrible lives—messing with her head, her memories, and manipulating her to question who she really was. And one dark night, Dark Angel had stolen Miss America and her husband Derek’s toddler son Derek Jr. They’d never seen him again. Dark Angel was bad news. Miss America wasn’t sure if they were up to it.

“Bring yourself down her foul demon.” Tisiphone growled. The fury in her eyes glowing as brightly as the hate in Dark Angel’s. “I will tear you limb from limb.”

“Oh, poor deluded goddess.” Dark Angel cackled. “You’ve bonded to a mortal avatar—and thus limit your true potential—it’s even further limited by the insanity that has slowly crept into your little host throughout years of eternal youth and loss—as well as the curse your sisters inflicted on her to keep her subservient and keep you in check.”

“You want to see my true potential? Come a little closer wandering spirit and we’ll see how in check I am.” Tisiphone hissed.

“Oooh… You are very scary. Color me terrified.” Dark Angel laughed, the sound brittle like glass.

“The Prince of Dreams is an old friend from way back.” Dark Angel said, “When he called and told me who he had, and who would be coming from her…” Dark Angel shrugged. “Well, I couldn’t resist a reunion with my old friends. The Wonder Twins… two women drafted by fate to fill in the blanks of Wonder Woman’s forgotten life. Such a hard life the two of you have had. Were the two of you ever up to the challenge?”

“We don’t have time for this.” Miss America gritted her teeth, the air around her glittering and shimmering. “My daughter is in danger. And, I’m going to save her. You can either step aside or I’ll make you step aside.”

“Ah, Mama Bear.” Dark Angel said. “You have the mothering instinct the crazy one doesn’t. The Fates did well when they guided Fury toward you to take her daughter—rather than trying to find Hippolyta’s hidden isle and leave her there to be raised by the Amazons.”

The stairs beneath Dark Angel disappeared in sparkling light as Miss America transmuted it to air. With a cry of surprise Dark Angel dropped down into the space beneath the stairs. Another quick flash of light and the stairs were back—made of promethium steel.

“Whatever we are searching for in this house is up those stairs.” Miss America said, “Otherwise she wouldn’t have been trying to block our path. I changed them to promethium—which will not break easily—but she will get through it. We don’t have much time. I’m getting tired and my transmutations are growing shorter and shorter. Plus she’s magic in nature—her magic could make the transmutation work even shorter.” Miss America said to the towering dark goddess beside her. “I’d recommend staying in Tisiphone mode. No telling what’s up those stairs.”

The two of them began moving up the stairs, they were to the landing on the second floor when Dark Angel burst through, coming to stop on her feet inches from where Tisiphone and Miss America stood.

“Nice trick.” Dark Angel hisses, magic energy seeping from her eyes and mouth like steam in her anger. “But, it didn’t last long. You’re getting weak old woman. Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if Wonder Woman hadn’t disappeared? Been wiped out of existence? You’d be dead Joan Dale. Died during the bombing of Pearl Harbor. But, reality was re-written and you were given a lease on life. Your lease is over.”

“Oh shut up.” Miss America spat, “I’m so tired of hearing that. Every time some mystic villain pops up, one who remembers what reality used to be like pops up, they want to tell me that I’m a replacement for Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman-lite. That I should be dead, but am not due to some massive reset of reality.”

“The truth is Dark Angel, and I want you to tell every mystical super-villain, magic entity, and mad god you meet this—tell, them I don’t give a @#$^%! I’m here now! I have a life! It’s my own life, no matter what you all want to think. Because I’ve made it mine.”

“@#$^% you!” Miss America screamed, and transmuted Dark Angel into a clear glass statue.

Tisiphone instantly lashed out, smashing the glass statue into a million pieces, sending them cascading down the stairs just as they reverted from promethium steel to wood again.

“That should shut her up for awhile.” Tisiphone growled, “Now let’s go and save Helena’s daughter.”

“Helena and my daughter.” Miss America corrected, “She might not be my flesh and blood, but I couldn’t love her any less or any more if she was.”

“My apologies.” Tisiphone said, “The Fates did well to guide my avatar to you.”

Miss America and the dark-skinned goddess made their way through the hallway of the second floor, passing open doors, revealing empty rooms.

“How much do you want to bet the place we need to go is behind one of those two doors at the end of the hallway? And the other door houses a trap.” Miss America asked quietly.

“I would say it’s most assuredly true.” Tisiphone said, “If I weren’t bonded to mortal flesh, requiring it to manifest on this plane, then traps would be the least of our concerns. But, my dependence on my host makes me vulnerable. Not as easily punctured and broken as you mortal, but vulnerable.”

“Drinking for Gaia’s pool has only made you more durable and stretched your youth. You know that the further you are from that pool and the sanctity of that island, the more you and your mortal husband age.” Tisiphone said.

“I know that.” Miss America said quietly. “I age even less. My transmutation powers allow me to regenerate my cellular structure.”

“So… you can be eternally young, but have forsaken it.” Tisiphone said. “Interesting you mortals are.”

“Our daughter wasn’t aging.” Miss America said quietly, the closed doors drew closer and closer. “She’d been chronologically five for nearly ten years. We didn’t notice, so content we were in our lives there. We left for Lyta, and once we were back, we realized we missed our friends and society. Trevor Island is beautiful and a paradise, but it was lonely.”

“Mortals.” Tisiphone scoffed. “Even when given the option to become greater than your flesh and bone, you’re still bound to your pathetic mortality.”

“Door number one? Or door number two?” Miss America asked softly, “The Lady or the Tiger?”

“I don’t get the reference.” Tisiphone said. “It doesn’t make sense to my host either.”

“It’s an old story. Something students read in American Lit class.” Miss America said quietly, “Helena only took a few high school courses after she first moved to America. I doubt she’d be familiar.”

“This one.” Miss America said, twisting the door knob and pushing the door open.

The room was dark and filled with shadows. But, there was no shimmering gateway within.

On the walls inside, the shadows began to move, dark shadowy beasts with glowing red eyes began to pull away, moving toward the opened door.

“Shadow demons…” Tisiphone whispered. “Agents of the Anti-Monitor left after he was defeated at the Dawn of Time. They’ve allied themselves with the Prince of Dreams.”

“I remember fighting them during the Crisis… on Trevor Island… wait, it didn’t happen… Why does it seem like it was just a dream?” Miss America replied, her voice growing frantic as the shadow demons began to slip through the door.

“Because at one time it was. Reality was re-written around you. And, things were much different before and after. After you did defend Trevor Island. But, before reality was re-written, you were long dead.” Tisiphone said, her eyes blazing.

“I could barely stop them then.” Miss America said, backing away from the door. “I couldn’t transmute them for very long. They are made of anti-matter… it doesn’t react the same way as matter does.”

“Do what you can.” Tisiphone said, “We just have to stall them long enough to get through that other door.”

“Here we go.” Miss America closed her eyes, concentrating. Anti-matter was tricky. She didn’t have much practice with it. The only memory she had was during the Crisis, which according to Tisiphone might not even be a real memory.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Tisiphone screamed, ducking to avoid the exploding anti-matter. It sheared through a wall—revealing twinkling dark night beyond.

“I was trying to transform them to dust.” Miss America said, losing a chunk of her cape to a cluster of anti-matter that shot by her. “Obviously my transmutations don’t work well on them.”

“At least they’re gone.” Miss America said. The second floor of the building was woozy, trembling as cool night air seeped in through the gaps in the walls. The door they had not chosen was unblemished. “We should hurry. Those Shadow Demons might be able to reform.”

A shimmering gateway danced in the air several feet above the dusty floorboards of an empty bedroom.

As they entered, the door slammed shut behind them. Stepping in front of the shimmering gateway was Mr. Chessire.

“I got better.” Mr. Chessire said. “I’m not flesh and blood. I’m like the two of you. Otherworldly. When I was normal flesh and blood, like you Helena before the Furies answered your cry for justice against your brother and like you Joan before that mad scientist changed your DNA and made you an icon for the hopes and dreams of a war-torn nation, this was my room. This is where I lived. Played. Where I dreamed. And, when the Prince of Dreams needed gateways between his newly created Dreamscape and reality, I was only too happy to oblige.”

“Why not? Before I aligned with him I was only a serial killer. A madman twisted by an unhappy childhood and my own dark dreams. I was only to happy to become something more. To move beyond a flesh and blood existence where each day drew me closer and closer to my own death. To take in the fears and nightmares, to absorb them—linking my dark soul and consciousness to the Dreamscape, so that the Prince of Dreams can expand his rule from a fractured corner of the Dreaming he has whittled off into this world. And, when he does that, I get to house all the pain and sorrow and become a God.” Mr. Chessire’s smile grew so wide it looked as though his face might rip apart.

“You want to be a God?” Tisiphone scoffed. “Take it from one, you don’t want such a curse. Especially when you’ve been born flesh and blood—a man. Few humans survive their ascension. You seem particularly weak man-child. Your soul will surely collapse.”

Tisiphone batted him aside. Mr. Chessire slammed into the wall, dust billowing out in a cloud.

Looking at the shimmering gateway, Miss America swallowed a lump in her throat. She overrode her fears—Lyta was in there. And, there was nothing else that could be thrown at them to prevent them from going through it.

The gateway felt cold and abrasive as they moved through it, the sparkling light tugging and pulling at Miss America’s bare arms and legs. It felt like it was pulling and scratching it, it’s icy coldness causing her skin to prickle up with goosepimples. It also left her breathless, stealing the air from her lungs. When they came out on the other side of the gateway, Miss America gasped for air, rubbing her cold arms which had begun to loose feeling.

“Sorry. I forgot a mortal woman might experience some discomfort.” Tisiphone said.

“It’s someone’s dream.” Tisiphone said. “Much like Brute and Glob, the Prince of Dreams found someone and cut them and their dreams off from the Dreaming. He created this world. Not even Daniel, the Lord of Dreams can see it.”

“One and the same.” Tisiphone said. Her black skin glistened in the pink and yellow light that filtered through the air in a haze.

Small diamond shaped slivers of glasses hovered in the air, dancing up and down slowly in waves of flashing light. Each diamond reflected a face and whispered secrets to Miss America. She could hear sorrow and joy, tales of woe and mirth. She sharply drew in a air through her nostrils, as hushed words landed against her neck in warm breaths of air, telling of lost love and rediscovered love. The sorrow and pleasure were overwhelming, and Miss America found herself following the words—the strung together sentences down into a honey-colored pocket that she could only see behind her eyes.

“Do not listen to the voices from those dream diamonds.” Tisiphone growled. “They are intended to lead you astray, drawing you into the Prince of Dreams’ Dream Traps.”

With a taloned claw, Tisiphone grabbed Miss America by the wrist, dragging her past the dream diamonds. Once they were clear of them, Miss America’s mind began to clear and the honeyed light and whispered words began to fall away.

“The dream diamonds are like sirens, a defense against mortals who might stray through that gateway. As a god, I’m immune. But, mortals like yourself find themselves in Dream Traps, their essence and souls fueling this realm.” Tisiphone said, leading Miss America by the wrist across the landscape.

The ground beneath their feet was soft and spongy and their steps left depressions in it’s soft orange surface.

“Where is the Prince of Dreams? Where is Lyta?” Miss America asked, still hearing the faintest echoes of the voices from the dream diamonds.

“Not sure.” Tisiphone said. “These type of dimensions don’t make much sense by mortal standards. And, each one is a little different between the various pantheons. My pantheon’s landscape works on different principles than the Roman’s landscape or the Norse or the Mongolian, on down the line. And, this landscape… it wouldn’t make sense to anyone, since the Prince of Dream is trying to create his own reality and pantheon.”

“He’s trying to make his own gods.” Tisiphone said quietly. “Lyta has a sliver of the Dreaming in her due to giving birth to Daniel, the new Dream. Once he marries and impregnates her, his child will be born through her—stealing her sliver of the Dreaming. He can then consume and destroy the Dreaming. His Dreamscape take it’s place. And he will then be able to take over the rest of reality, through the dreams of humankind.”

“Yet another power-mad lunatic wanting to take over the world.” Miss America remarked quietly. “Whether it’s Europe or reality, they always want to put their own stamp, their own rules, their own needs on it. Instead of letting people live their lives.”

“Your mortality and simplistic thought processes sometimes shine through. Generally after I can glimpse the avatar of your homeland’s spirit shining through.” Tisiphone said.

“You can let my wrist go now.” Miss America said, shifting uncomfortable under the burning red glare of Tisiphone’s eyes. “And, you could let Fury out again. I think it’s time she and I follow this path some.”

“I could. But, we might come across another obstacle or trap. The Prince of Dream has enlisted many and created infinite traps to protect his fortress. He doesn’t intend to loose.” Tisiphone said. “And, Fury can only cope with obstacles and threats through her mortal perception. She, like you, is still painful mortal at times. And, we are in the land of an emerging god.”

“You sound like you admire him.” Miss America said, jerking her hand free of Tisiphone’s claw. “Almost like Mr. Chessire back there.”

“Oh, she’s in here.” Tisiphone said quietly. “Sleeping. Deeply. She’s immortal now. But, she is still tangled up with me. And, I want to be free. My sisters may be content to work through an avatar, lending their strength to a broken mortal girl, but I long for freedom… long to be free of this sack of flesh and bone. The Prince of Dreams has offered me freedom from Helena Kosmatos, and to be the sole goddess of Vengeance and Justice in his new reality…”

Miss America spread her arms out, concentrating. Gods were difficult. Tricky. They didn’t adhere to the normal physical properties humans did. As she’d learned a few moments again with the anti-matter Shadow Demons, it was unpredictable.

“What are you going to transmute me into little avatar? Stone? Dust?” Tisiphone laughed coldly. “You may be the avatar for the hopes and dreams of your country, a female counterpart to Uncle Sam, but are no match for Tisiphone, the Blood Avenger. The mightly goddess who killed her own faithless lover by snake bite, letting his carcass form the Cithaeron mountains. Tisiphone who once guarded the gates of Tartarus—before Cerebus was a pup suckling on a bitch’s teat.”

“Tisiphone, the fallen weakened goddess.” Miss America said as the air around them began to sparkle. “Tisiphone cast from favor by mighty Zeus—imprisoned in a cavern beneath the forgotten Earth-based fortress of Ares when he moved to different realms. Tisiphone, the anemic Blood Avenger who had to combine forces with her sisters Alecto and Megaera to power and act through a slight blonde girl so that their glory might live on in some small fashion—in hopes of reclaiming their former heights and powers through her exploits. Hope that were dashed when the super-heroine Fury was overshadowed by a time-traveling Hippolyta, acting as emissary for Olympian ideals. Forgotten when she went mad due to your possession of her. Leaving three weakening goddesses trapped in cold caves, praying that she might finally destroy an ancient enemy and reclaim some of your glory. But, to do even that, you three had to use nearly every last bit of your strength to give her eternal youth, restore her mind and body—with limitations, that are in fact limitations of your own powers.”

“You talk to much mortal.” Tisiphone roared, swinging a taloned claw toward Miss America.

Miss America ignored the pounding in her own heart, the rushing fear filling her, and concentrated on transmutation—concentrated on the fact that time moved differently in this reality—in this Dreamscape.

“WHAT?!” Tisiphone screamed, her hand turning to gold and falling to the ground with a thud.

The gold started at her wrist and began working it’s way up her arm, slowly covering and consuming her entire body.

“The fight with the Mad Muses was staged, wasn’t it. As were all the battles leading into the Dreamscape.” Miss America whispered. “We were never in any danger. It just needed to appear as though we were, so that Helena would come for me, so that she would surrender control to you. Does Helena know what you’re planning? That you’re willing to sacrifice the daughter she sacrificed everything for to give her a chance at life?”

“You think you can stop me?” Tisiphone said, her entire body gold. The sparkling alloy began moving up her neck, covering her head, rippling over her forehead toward her eyes and mouth. “Your transmutation will last only seconds.”

“But what are seconds here?” Miss America asked quietly. “Here seconds can last a lifetime. The only limitations to my powers and transmutations here are the limitations I put upon them. In a dream, my power is infinite.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—“ The scream was cut off as Tisiphone’s mouth turned to gold.

Looking at the solid gold statue, Miss America frowned. She would have to figure out how to save Helena. But, that would wait for later. For now, she had to make her way deeper into this dream world and find her daughter—rescuing her from the Prince of Dreams.

The sky rippled and wavered and suddenly there were dancing women falling down all around, they were made of porcelain and shattered into thick heavy shards as they slammed into the ground. The dancing women were dressed like the ballerina that had been in a music box that Derek had given their daughter Angela for her third birthday.

“You called?” A beautiful woman asked, wearing a costume much like Miss America’s. There was a red cape, a black top, and the skirt had what looked like planets and stars glittering in the rippling fabric. From behind a domino mask, her eyes were bright and warm. She rose from the ground, casting aside chunks of broken porcelain dancers.

Miss Cosmos smiled. “The Prince of Dreams is expecting you in his throne room. But, first let’s take a side trip.”

Miss America followed her, realizing that a yellow brick road had appeared beneath them. They walked silently for some time, although Miss America could not tell time nor distance with any certainty or accuracy.

It was New York, December 6th, 1941, and there were Christmas decorations all around.

NEXT ISSUE: In the Dreamscape, things grow even more dire, and Miss America learns the truth about many things—including her place in the grand scheme of the universe.