Requiem For A Heavywieght Issue #3 (of 3), "The Comeback Kid" By Chuck Burke

New York City - Warrior's Bar "...and lastly, tonight the sports world mourns the loss of one of boxing's greatest. Ted Grant, WBA heavyweight champion throughout most of the 1940's, and trainer to many of the greatest boxers of the last fifty years, has died from injuries suffered in an explosion at his home near Valdosta, Georgia last week. Grant has been hailed as an ambassador of the ring, making boxing a popular sport throughout schools and colleges. Very active in the last few years, after a three year retreat from public life, Ted Grant was seen just last month, greeting fans at a local -*" Guy Gardner slams the remote control down on the bar. "Damn! What'd ya have to go and get yourself killed for, Ted?" "You all right, Guy?" Jack, the bartender looks over at his boss. "Nah, I'm fine. Better take down Ted's sign, though." Guy turns away, and stalks off to his private office. Gotham City - a darkened apartment "The details of his death are not fully known. All that has been released is that there was an explosion at a home he owned in Georgia, and he was severely burned. Doctors at Memorial Hospital in Keystone City, where he was transported after the accident, say that every effort was made to save the boxing legend, but his injuries were too severe. A memorial service is scheduled -*" The woman on the couch rolls over, and settles her head on her arms. Nobody else is there to hear her sobs. A cat wanders over and nuzzles his head against his mistress. Mexico "Viewers may recall that Ted Grant spent several years here, helping the youth through sports programs. He was honored several times for his work with the Mexican Olympic team." Yet another hand switches off the news. A man raises a glass toward the darkened screen. "And so it ends, my friend. First my poor Yolanda, and now you. Rest in piece, mi amigo." Keystone City - the home of Jay Garrick "There aren't many that die out of 'uniform', are there Jay?" Alan Scott sits at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. "This would make Ted one of the lucky few." "Depends on what you call lucky, Alan." Jay puts down his mug and puts his hands under his chin. "Costume or not, he was battling this new Sports Master when he died. I think that qualifies as dying with your boots on, don't you?" "I suppose. Just leaves you and I from the old gang. As the ones still in costume, at least." Alan pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his eyes. "Well, not quite. I better fill you in on what happened." Jay starts describing the events of last week. "Oracle had buzzed me, asking me to pick up this Sports Master. Apparently, he regained consciousness while Ted was talking to her, and attacked him. I took off from here, but it takes a few minutes to get down to Georgia. By the time I got there, they were going at it outside, by this pond. I saw Sports Master throw something, and it hit in the pond. That's when all hell broke loose. "That wasn't plain water in there. I've tried analyzing it, but there are elements that I can't even begin to identify. When that gimmick electrified the water, it set off a chain reaction, an explosive vaporization. In seconds, the water was gone, and the steam permeated everything around there. Especially Ted. "I grabbed him, and rushed him to the burn unit in Atlanta. They gave him the full treatment for scalding, third degree burns, the works. I left him in their hands and sped back to pick up the Sports Master. Ted must have shielded him, he was knocked out, but he wasn't burned. Once I had him locked up in a holding cell in Atlanta, I was back at the hospital. It didn't look good, let me tell you. "Ted lost the skin on over eighty percent of his body. The superheated water went right through him so he was burned on the inside too. The doctors didn't know what they could do for him, except make him comfortable. Thankfully, he never regained consciousness through it all." Alan interrupts him, wiping his eyes again. "Jay, I don't need all the gruesome details. I've seen enough deaths." "Don't worry, buddy. I'm not trying to gross you out, as the kids say. There's a point here." Jay continues his story. "I figured Ted would be most comfortable where his friends could come see him, so I brought him up here to Keystone. The doctors didn't expect him to last long, but he hung in there. The monitors they put on him remained steady, and even showed signs of improving. It was four days later that he woke up. I was there, and I almost fainted when he started mumbling under the bandages. "The doctors wanted to sedate him. One even went so far as to say that we should let him die in peace. Fortunately, we had the right visitor stop by about then. No doctor is pompous enough to argue with Superman." "Superman?" "Sure. You were out of town, and out of touch I might add, with Jenny and Todd, but just about everyone else from the JSA, as well as most of the JLA, stopped by the hospital that week. Even Batman." Alan's jaw drops. "You're kidding me, right?" "No, I'm not. After all, Ted taught him how to box, years ago. He came by the first night Ted was there." Alan shook his head, not believing that the brooding Dark Knight would make such a visit. "So, what happened with Superman?" "Well, there was Ted, asking to sit up. The doctor is trying to tell him it's impossible, and I see Superman looking Ted up and down, with that kind of squinty-eyed look. Then he tells the doc to let him sit up." "Jay, this is sounding crazy. You sound like Ted survived this." The man known to the world as the original Flash smiles. "Superman and I got either side of the bed, and the doctor cranked it up. Poor Ted looked like a mummy, all wrapped up. Then Superman reaches for the bandages on his hand. The doctor went through the roof. And when the big guy unwrapped it, and it revealed a perfectly healthy hand, that doctor actually fainted." "Healthy? Not burned, or scarred?" "Yes! Superman looks at me, and he smiles, and together we stripped him of the bandages. What a sight!" "Aww, and you didn't have a video camera, did you?" "Wish I did, my friend. There was just one problem, and nobody knew what to tell Ted. Superman, Joan, the doctors and I, we huddled out in the hall, and tried to figure it out. Finally, I said the heck with it, and went back in the room." "What was it, Jay? Is Ted alive now? Crippled?" "Yes to the first, and no to the second. I found a mirror in the bathroom and brought it over. Ted took a look in it, then he looked at me to see if he had lost his mind." "Jay, if you don't tell me what it was, I swear I'm going to torch your shorts." True to his word, a green flame starts to form around the hands of Sentinel. "Cool down, Alan. What we, and Ted, couldn't believe was his face. I swear, he looks like he's about Rick Tyler's age." "What?! But Ted's pushing eighty, if he's not actually past it!" "His mind is, but not his body. Like I said, I've been analyzing that water. I can't tell you exactly what's in it, but some of those chemicals are definitely not from this planet. Something got into the water there, and it's like a fountain of youth. I talked to Ted and found out that the woman who owned it before him is still alive and active, at the age of 112. Her sister in law, who lived on the farm too, is 120." "Jay, this is starting to make sense. After all, Ted's always been the healthiest guy I know, and I don't care how much you exercise, you don't stay that fit at his age unless you've had help." "You mean, something like a Starheart, or the Speed Force, or were you thinking perhaps of having a shadowy villain explode around you, releasing so-called chronal energy?" Jay leans back in the kitchen chair, hands behind his head. "One of those did the trick for us, after all." "True, but Ted wasn't there for the Karkull case. This would explain how he's able to keep running around in those tights." "Yep, and it also explains the person he's with now." "Huh?" "Alan, Ted looks fine, and he now has the body of a twenty-five year old. But his mind is used to handling a more mature body. He's gone to find someone to help him get used to being young again. Meanwhile, he can't exactly carry on as the octogenarian ex-boxer, so, officially, Ted Grant is dead." Gotham City - the same darkened apartment There is a knock at the door. She raises her head and calls out. "Go away!" "I can't do that. There's someone here to see you, and I don't think you want to turn him away." She recognizes the voice, and wonders what she's done to attract *his* attention. After all, he usually leaves Gotham City alone. She gets up and walks to the door, rubbing her eyes with the balls of her hands. For just a second, she considers grabbing something to put on over the filmy nightwhirt she is wearing, then realizes that, if *he* is looking, it won't make any difference. She opens the door to find it blocked by a red and blue form. "Ms. Kyle. It's been a while." Superman's face holds the barest hint of a smile. "To what do I owe the honor?" Unconsciously, she straightens up in the presence of the Kryptonian. "I'm just acting as chauffeur, and to confirm the identity of my friend." Superman steps aside, and for the first time, Selina Kyle sees Wildcat standing in the hallway. "He was afraid you wouldn't believe him, and thought you would trust me." "A nice bit of irony in that." "Selina, this is going to be tough to believe-" Wildcat starts, but breaks off as her eyes widen, and she instinctively raises a hand. "Hold it! You're not the Wildcat I know. The voice is close, but you're not him." Superman steps in before she can lash out. "Ms. Kyle, that's why I'm here. This is Ted Grant, the Wildcat that you know. He's just been through some, ahhh, changes." "Wellll, I suppose, if you can't trust Superman, who can you trust? Right?" "Then I'll get out of your way." The man of steel turns to Wildcat, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I hope you know what you're doing." With that, he turns, walks down the hall to an open window, and flies off. Wildcat steps forward. "Can we get out of the hallway? I have something to show you." They go into the apartment, and Selina locks the doors. "Sel, hon, something happened to me. Something wonderful, awful, amazing..." His words trail off as Ted reaches up and pulls the mask up, back, and off his head. "Ted! How?" Selina reaches up, and runs her fingertips over his face. "A crazy accident. I look, and feel, like a kid again. But I need your help." Ted takes her hands in his. "I need you to teach me." "Teach you? And what do you think a Catwoman can teach you?" Selina tosses her head, her long black hair swirling around her face. "You want to learn how to break into museums now? Tired of fighting the good fight, as you always called it?" "No. I need to learn how to move again. I mean, to really move. This body doesn't feel right to me, it's too young, too flexible. Can you teach me how to get the most out of it?" Selina pulls her hands from Ted, wraps her arms around his waist, and pulls him to her. "Baby, I can do that, and more. Let's start with working on your endurance..." Gotham City, four weeks later Two figures crouch on a ledge over the entrance to the Gotham City Conference Center. Both clad in dark bodysuits, they move without a sound, working their way along the side of the building, following a group of figures on the ground. Below them, a truck pulls up, and the men start pulling equipment from the back. "Those must be the gas bombs. Lord, if he sets those off tomorrow, it'll be a panic." "Let's get them, then. We've seen and taped enough for the cops." Without another word, they jump. The slim figure in the purple bodysuit lands on the back of the truck, unfurling a long whip from around her body as she straightens up. The other, clad in midnight blue, plummets into a cluster of bodies, and erupts in a flurry of blows to those left standing. "'Cat, they're not alone. Watch out for the Scarecrow!" "Gotcha, Kitty!" Wildcat ducks under a swung crowbar, and kicks out at it's wielder. The man collapses as his knee snaps back in the wrong direction. "Got you, too, didn't I?" Under the mask, Ted Grant's face is set in a grim smile. This is the feeling he missed, every time he was sidelined. The adrenaline pumping, the muscles tensed for the next blow. He glances around, gauging the next attack from his foes. One makes a grab for his leg, only to find empty air as the hero leaps up and over him. A flip and twist in the air, and the attacker is knocked out when a fist strikes the back of his head. "Not bad, Teddy, not bad at all." Above him, Catwoman watches as she reels in the two thugs caught in the lash of her whip. Just then, a movement in the shadows catches her eye. "Wildcat! Over to your left!" Wildcat looks up. "I see him. You take the rest here!" He vaults over the heaped bodies and starts after the tall spindly man lurking beyond the lights. "Be careful!" The shout comes as the cat-burglar and long-ago student launches herself from the truck to a signpost, swinging on the pole to catch a pair of hoodlums with her long, limber legs. Around the corner, Wildcat stops short. Instead of running, his quarry has turned and is waiting for him. "So predictable, you fool!" The words are drowned out in the hiss of a gas sprayer. A cloud of yellow mist envelopes the cat-suited boxer. He pauses to shake his head, then starts forward, only to fall to the ground. "What the-? No!" Ted reaches for his legs, feeling only dead flesh when he grabs his thighs. He rocks back to a sitting position, holding himself upright with one hand. "Legs, paralyzed again. Can't run, can't move! Stuck here, useless. Helpless!" At that moment, Catwoman charges around the corner. "Cat! What happened? Where's -" She stops, seeing Wildcat on the pavement. She crouches down next to him. "What is it, Ted? What's happening?" "Can't you see, Yolanda? I'm paralyzed again! Just like years ago, stuck here. Wait! No!" Ted looks at her again, trying to focus. "That costume! No, Yolanda, don't do it. You can't take my place. You'll be killed! You'll die all over again!" His head falls forward onto her shoulder, sobbing. "Ted, listen to me. I'm not Yolanda, I'm Selina. And you aren't paralyzed. It's the Scarecrow. He hit you with that damned fear gas. It's all in your head. You aren't paralyzed. You can shake it!" Ted closes his eyes and shakes his head again. "Yes. Selina. Yolanda's gone. I couldn't help her, I never got to say goodbye or tell her how proud I was of her. I could do it now, though. I can help you. I can do this." Saying it, he stands, slowly, checking the ground under him. "I can do it!" He opens his eyes, and looks down at Catwoman. "Thanks to you, I can do it. Now, let's nail this creep." Several hours later, in the early morning darkness of Selina's apartment, they lay together. "It's time, isn't it, Ted?" "We knew it was coming, Sel." "I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Know where you're going?" "I think so. The Wayne Foundation has a deal with the DEO, they help displaced mysterymen get set up if they need it. They're gonna help me finish something I should have done a long time ago." A month later. Syracuse, NY The snow is falling on the campus, on this first day of the spring semester. Crowds of students rush between buildings. Most of them don't notice the tall man with the purposeful stride and the confident air. He makes his way into one of the buildings. He finds the right door, goes in, and takes a seat at the front of the room. Shortly, other students file in, taking their seats. A the lecture starts, a broad grin crosses Ted Grant's face, as he resumes his long-interrupted quest for a medical degree.

 

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