Issue #3

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"Gone Fishing!"

by Chuck Burke

"Good morning, can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Ted Grant. He's expecting me." The tall blonde shifts her back pack from one shoulder to the other as the receptionist makes a quick call. She looks around, taking in the pictures that adorn the walls. Most show young men in trunks and boxing gloves. Many are autographed, some with names that she recognizes. An old photo of Terry Sloane surrounded by young smiling faces catches her eye, and she looks more closely at the caption someone had provided.

"American Athletic Union tournament sponsor Terry Sloane took time out from his organizational duties to meet with some of the entrants from the Salt City Athletic Club when the AAU tournament was held in Syracuse. 1958."

"Why doesn't this surprise me?" she murmurs to herself.

"Miss? Ted is busy right now, but if you'd like to go on in…"

"Of course. Would it be all right if I changed and joined them?"

"Of course. Ted arranged for a guest pass. Have a good time."

Ten minutes later, the blonde steps out of the locker room and onto the floor of a busy gymnasium. Dressed in a yellow leotard with black leggings, her hair bound up in a clip, she looks much younger than her thirty years. She looks around, spotting her friend in his favorite habitat: the boxing ring. Opting to leave him alone with his students, she spots an empty set of uneven parallel bars. She walks over, leaps high into the air, and grabs hold of the upper bar. Pulling her body up until her outstretched arms hold her above the bar, she arches her back, and tips forward. Her bowed body swings back, then snaps forward, swinging under the bar and flying free, dropping down so she can take hold of the lower bar and reverse her momentum. Activities around the room come to a halt as she works through an Olympic-level routine, with a speed and skill that few could match. When her feet strike the floor with a resounding crack, the gym erupts in spontaneous applause.

"Very nice, blondie. Got any other talents?" The voice is right behind her, and she has to check her initial reflex. She turns, and finds herself looking up into the cool blue eyes of a slim, sinewy young man.

"Some people think so." she purrs, looking him up and down with a smile.

"I'll just bet they do." says the man dressed in the uniform of the club, with "Ron" embroidered on the upper left of his shirt.

"Well, my sensei seems to think so." Her smile turns just a touch colder.

"Sensei? What art?"

"Karate – 2nd degree. Judo, black belt." And about 6 others, which she neglects to mention.

He places his hands together, one hand wrapped around the other, at chest level, and bows slightly toward her. "Ron Smith, the club's instructor. You up for a little sparring?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Headgear?"

"I never wear it." She shakes her head, the clipped hair swirling behind her.

Moments later, Di and Ron face off in a circular area marked out in the middle of the gym. Each wears vinyl-dipped foam hand and foot guards. One of the observers takes a spot in the center of the ring, an impromptu referee.

"Okay, folks, let's have a clean match here. Stay in the ring, no shots directly to the face or below the belt, and let's not try to kill each other." He glances at each of them in turn, and seeing them nod agreement, drops his raised hand between them. "Begin!"

They circle each other warily, watching each other. Suddenly, without warning, Ron spins on his left foot, his right arching behind him in a reverse kick aimed directly at Di's midsection. She leaps high in the air, letting the kick pass under her, and as she comes back down she lashes out with a kick of her own. It sweeps across before her, the ball of her foot brushing across the nose of her hastily-retreating opponent.

When she lands, she allows the momentum to carry her body down into a crouch, then springs up and over a surprised Ron. She tucks her knees up under her chin and lands in a roll, coming up facing his back and snapping a knife-hand side strike to his neck.

"Gotcha!" she says with a grin, her checked blow a mere tenth of an inch from his carotid artery.

Not ready to concede defeat just yet, Ron drops down, his hands striking the floor as his legs kick out and catch Di in their grip. Caught in a scissor hold, Di twists back to bring her feet up into his stomach. With a "whuff!" of released air, Ron lets go and draws his legs back under him. He stands up, only to be caught by a backfist to the side of his head, and a hooking kick to his already-aching abdomen. He drops to the floor, signaling weakly that he concedes the match.

Di reaches down to help her opponent to his feet. He runs a finger through his long mane of black hair and grins, saying "Thanks! That's the best match I've had in a couple of months. Care for a rematch sometime?"

"Sure, next time I'm in town." Di looks over to see a familiar face. "Right now, though, I've got to talk to Ted. Thanks for the work-out!"

Ted Grant falls in step alongside her as she walks toward the locker rooms. "Nice job, kiddo. A shame you can't let him know that he just got trounced by the Black Canary."

An hour later, showered and changed, Dinah Lance and Ted Grant sit at a corner booth in a campus deli. The remains of a light breakfast sit between them on the table as they talk over their coffee.

"When you called last night, you said you wanted help with a case. What can you tell me?"

"I've been checking out some operations in Metropolis, Ted. A couple of sweatshop operations, illegal aliens working 15, 18 hours a day, assembling cheap handguns that I've come across in Metropolis, Gotham, Star City, New York, Fawcett, you name it. Some kids, mostly women and older folks. I finally caught one outside of the factory - they have dormitories in the basements, so only a few ever get out on the streets.

"Kung Lo told me that they came in from Canada, across Lake Ontario. Said they beached at night, and were taken by van to a campground a couple of miles from the shore. There, they stayed a couple of days until they were picked up by a bunch of school busses and driven down to Metropolis. He's been here since October, and he says he overheard someone saying there would be new workers soon."

"Any idea where they're coming ashore. Lake Ontario stretches over a hundred miles, you know."

"I got lucky. He said that there were statues stored in a rec room at the campground. Statues of Goofy Grizzly, the old cartoon character. It just happens that my parents used to take me to a Goofy Grizzly Campground in Mexico, just about three miles from Lake Ontario."

"Sounds like a good place to start." Ted smiled, taking a sip from his coffee mug.

"This weekend would be the perfect time. It's far enough along into spring that most of the shore ice on Ontario has melted, and a week from now, that campground opens up for the spring fishing season. So if he's going to bring in a boatload of illegals, this is the time to do it."

"He? You now who's behind this?"

"Yeah, a long-time operator in Metropolis. He used to head up the 100 before Black Lightning busted him. Name's Tobias Whale."

"The Whale, eh? I heard about him. Big, oversized albino, shaved his head to look more like Moby Dick, didn't he?"

"He's not your average nut-case, Ted. He packs enough of a punch to knock Superman for a loop."

"Warning received and appreciated, kiddo. So, we raiding the place tonight?" The man known to most of the world as the crimebusting Wildcat grins again, the thought of a fight welcome at any time."

"That's the plan, uncle Ted." The Black Canary grins back, remembering long afternoons in her parents' back yard, learning boxing and self-defense from the former heavyweight champion. "I figure we can leave here around 4:30, that will put us in Mexico just after sundown. Till then, how about showing me around your new hometown?"

"And this is home." announces Ted as he pulls into his driveway. "At least, the top part of it is. My landlord and his buddy live downstairs. Their know about Wildcat, by the way. Up to you if you want to share your little secret with them." As if on cue, the door to the lower flat opens and Benny Jackson and Toby Barnes come walking out as Ted and Dinah get out of the Jeep.

"Whoa, Ted, you've got to tell me where you go cruising! Coming home with this lovely lady, and before noon even!" Benny tilts his head forward to glance at Dinah over the rims of his sunglasses. "Care to join the Tobester and I for a little sunbathing? We're going up on the roof to catch some rays."

"Umm, no thanks. Cancer isn't one of my life goals." Her reply is cold, recalling her mother's death from a cancer induced by an other-worldly being.

"Guys, this is Dinah Lance, a friend from my days in Gotham. Di, the mouth here is Benny, and the quiet one is Toby."

"Indeed a pleasure, Lady Di. If you change your mind, we'll be up upon yonder porch." says Benny with an exaggerated bow,

"Sure, lady. Have your fun with Teddy here. Just don't plan on sticking around. Looks like he goes through people pretty quickly. Especially Gotham folks." Toby stalks off toward the ladder that leans against the side the building, leaving the other three to look at each other and wonder what caused his sudden outburst.

Inside Ted's apartment, the duo studies a geographic survey map and a set of old photos.

"I had these stashed away at home, dug them out last night. Figured they might be some help. See that rock ledge in the water? That's where I had my first dance, when I was thirteen. Now, I'm thinking it might be a good way into the camp."

"How so?"

"It stretches almost all the way across the creek. There's woods on the other side, which I think are still there. And a road not too far beyond." Dinah points to a place on the map. "There it is. Little Salmon Road. We can follow it up from the state highway down here." She traces the road down to an intersection.

"Any idea what sort of security the Whale has on this?" asks Ted.

"From what Kung Lo said, not much. But Tobias Whale has a history of employing metahuman mercenaries as guards, so we could hit most anything."

"Sounds like my idea of a good time. You wanna change here, or when we get closer to the camp?"

"I know a diner there that's still in business. I called from Metropolis to check. Old place that caters to fishermen, with restrooms out back. We'll change there."

"Then let's pack up and get going!"

The afternoon sun is starting to descend as Ted's Jeep pulls into the back of Stef's Diner, with a small trailer in tow. Dinah Lance heads directly for a small building in the back, a small duffel bag over her shoulder, leaving Ted to unlatch the back panel on the trailer. By the time he has the motorcycle ready to back off the trailer, she has returned. She takes over as he heads in to change, and soon they are ready go.

"Nice bike, ‘Cat. Quite a change from the old Harley, though."

Under his mask, Wildcat grins. "It was a gift, from the Syracuse Police Department. Lady friend of mine arranged it."

The Black Canary runs her hand over the seat. "Nice lady friend. Must be serious."

"Nothing like that so far, but she is quite the gal." he says, as he climbs on.

Sliding in behind him on the seat, the blonde crimefighter murmurs "I sure hope so." Speaking louder, she starts giving directions. "Down 104 here, turn right just past the high school, and that will become Little Salmon Road." She wraps her arms around the big man's waist as he heels the bike over around the turn. "Yeah, once we're out of the village, the name changed, so we can just follow this up. Keep your eye out for a big, stone silo. I hope it's still here, that's the one thing I remember seeing across the river from the camp." Then she lowers her voice, switching on a microphone in her helmet. "Yellow Bird to Oracle, you there?"

"Hey, Birdie, how's the search going?" comes a voice over the helmet's receiver.

"Good, we're closing in on the camp, should be there in a few minutes. Look, can you run a search for me?"

"Of course. What's the target?"

"Name is Toby Barnes. Try all variations on the name." Dinah rattles off Ted's address. "Seems to have a chip on his shoulder about Ted, and I'm a little concerned."

"Awww, that's sweet!" Dinah can easily visualize the amused grin on her partner's face. "Let me know when you've wrapped up the Whale there. I don't want to interrupt you in the middle of your workout with the search results."

"Thanks. I'll keep you posted. Anything on any possible opposition up here?"

"Nada. If Whale's been hiring, he's been quiet about it."

"Good. I enjoy surprises. Canary out."

"You all right back there, kiddo? I think I see your silo up ahead." Wildcat's voice reaches her over the sound of the motocycle and the air rushing by.

"All set here. I was just checking in with Oracle. Yeah, that's the place. If I remember correctly there is a shed there where you can stow the bike."

"Looks like your memory is good." Ted pulls up alongside a low, ramshackle building. "Just so long as we don't get a strong wind." They dismount, and he wheels the cycle inside. Climbing the ladder to the top of the silo, they can just see the campground across the creek. They find a hatch at the top, and climb in on a small platform inside which provides an unobstructed view of the camp.

"There's the main building, with the community room, the camp store, and the offices. I figure Whale will be in there. The cabins are off to our left, down closer to the creek." Black Canary points out a few scattered rooftops visible through the barren trees.

"Where's the rock ledge?"

"Directly below us. Hope you don't mind getting your feet wet."

"This cat ain't got no problem with water, honey. You should remember that."

"Of course I do. I remember you teaching me to swim. Felt good after the boxing lessons."

"Ahh, those were the days, weren't they? Down at the shore, your folks and I with you running around all over the place. I always figured you would follow in your Mom's bootsteps, you know."

"Yeah, well, Mom wasn't so keen on the idea. When I first snuck out in her old costume, she was fit to be tied!"

"Of course she was! What's the point of being a parent if you can't worry about your kids?"

"Right. Like I'll ever know what that's like, Uncle Ted." Dinah sits down, leaning against the wall, head down and eyes closed.

"Look, Di, I heard about what happened. But you know how things are going in medicine. You may still be able to have kids sometime." Ted's hand reaches out to rest on her shoulder. "There's no need to give up hope. Of course, you'll need the right person, too."

"I've never been good at finding the right guy, either. Ollie sure wasn't fatherhood material, you know?"

"You got me there, kid. But then, I'm not much of an expert myself." Now it's Ted's turn to slump down.

"Is it true, then? The rumor I heard?"

"You mean the one that says hot-shot boxer and mystery man, Ted Grant, aka Wildcat, found a good woman, fathered a bouncing baby boy, then let that boy get kidnaped by some loony in a bug suit? The one that says the hot-shot mystery man and detective never found a clue about what happened to his son or the kidnaper after that? Yeah, kid. It's true." Ted looks down at the dirty floor between his legs. "The Yellow Wasp stole my life that day. I tried for five years to find any information about him and Jake. Irina gave up on me after the first couple of years. The only thing I ever heard about her after that was five years ago, when I got word that she was killed in a car accident in Colorado. She had a letter that was sent to me after her death."

"Ted, you don't have to..."

"Yeah, I do. It's about time I told someone. The letter was dated a few months after she left. She had hired some private investigators, and they didn't have any more luck finding Jake than I did. She had realized that if I couldn't find anything, there probably wasn't any information to find. But she couldn't bear facing up to that, so she lost herself in her artwork."

The silence hangs between them for a long while as the shadows grow longer. Finally, when the inside of the old silo is almost totally dark, they stand up and start watching the campground across the creek.

Within minutes they are rewarded by the sweeping headlights of a large covered flatbed truck, followed by a large white Cadillac.

"Looks like our boy, BC."

Black Canary has a high-powered night scope held up to one eye. "That's the Whale's Caddy, all right. Let's get over there."

As the heros make their way down to the creek, they spot movement on the rock ledge that nearly stops the water's flow. Four dark-clad men, all carrying rifles of some type, are spreading out to watch the stream's far edge.

A quick gesture from Wildcat, and Black Canary is heading north as he heads south. They slip into the water, easing themselves down into the cold current and slowly making their way across. They each emerge among trees, and let the excess water run off before making their move.

The guards' attention is focused on the far shore, wary of any persons who might accidentally, or intentionally, wander over from the farmland beyond. It's an unlikely proposition, but they have already recognized that their employer is a thorough man. Nevertheless, they are caught completely off-guard when they are attacked from their own side of the creek.

The northernmost guard never has a chance. One moment he is peering downstream, looking for any sign of a person crossing, and the next he is on his back, with a black and gray-clad fury straddling his body as she drives his head down onto the rocky surface with an open palm strike to his face. The impact leaves him unconscious.

The southernmost guard catches a glimpse of movement in the shadows behind him, but it does him no good. One moment all is dark; the next, he sees a mouth open in a smile, just before the large fist strikes his temple. He spins around, rifle flying into the creek, and is brought down by a knife-hand strike across the exposed side of his neck.

The remaining two gunmen are alerted by the sound of their companions falling. Wasting no effort on words, they close formation and stand back to back. In the darkness, they search for targets to shoot at. Rightly expecting that the others must have been overpowered and felled by large opponents, they seek their prey at eye level. They fail to notice the pair coming in low. As one, Wildcat and Black Canary each seize a leg, and pull. Two figures drop heavily to the ground, and the fisticuffs begin. Unsure about using their firearms in such close quarters, the guards resort to using the rifles as clubs, attempting to knock their foes unconscious. One succeeds in disabling his partner, nearly decapitating him in the process. The remaining gunman is taken out by blows to the face and the back of the head, one from each of his unknown assailants.

"I'll tie them up, you scout thing scout up ahead." says Wildcat, unwinding a length of stout cords from his waist. He tosses one of the thugs over each shoulder, and carries them to a tree by the shore. He comes back quickly, and the other two join the first as Dinah makes her way up the hill toward the camp office. Several turns of the line secures the foursome to the tree trunk, and strips of their own clothing are soon in place as gags. Ted then makes his way to the trail that his partner was following.

At the top of the hill, he finds her with her night scope out again. "What have you got?"

"Looks like about twenty people were brought in. They're all in those two cabins down the hill, with two guards on each cabin. The Whale is in the office, with his driver and another six guards. And if our playmates are any indication, I expect there are a few more by the gate. these aren't the typical goons, either. They're smart, and they're organized."

"How do you figure that?"

"They're part of a group I've been hearing about. The Legionnaires. Don't let the name fool you, they're a white supremacist group. Heavy duty, though, they like to back up their rhetoric with real action. I shouldn't be surprised that Toby would bring them in on what's basically a slave operation."

"So, let's see, we could take out the guards at each cabin, two at a time, then lead the folks back down to the creek, over to that barn, and place a call to the county sheriff to come and check this place out, right?" In the darkness, Wildcat's smile is just barely visible.

"And spoil all our fun for the night? Come on, Uncle Ted. Let's go harpoon us a Whale."

"That should work, Mr. Whale. We can probably get them there tomorrow, if you need. This time of year, we can drop right in behind the trucks taking salmon down for processing, so we can take the highways all the way through without anyone being suspicious." The Legionnaire's face is hidden by the mask worn by all of their members: a black stocking mask with a red cross on the back of the head, and a smaller one on the forehead.

"Excellent. Excellent. The sooner I get them to work, the more cocaine and heroin I can process each day." Tobias Whale rubs his massive, pale hands together in anticipation. "I'll have this operation in the black in no time."

And with the extras that we'll provide for those drugs, the blacks and latinos will soon be out of operation, thinks the Legionnaire leader to himself.

Their discussion and thoughts are interrupted by the crash of the window behind the Whale's desk. Shards of glass fly everywhere, one of them striking the Legionnaire in the forehead, cutting through the mask and drawing blood. Two dark figures come hurtling through behind the barrel that shatters the glass, each landing to one side of the crime boss.

"What the-?" cries the Whale. "Black Canary! I heard you were spotted talking to one of my old workers. You should have minded your own business, you bi-*"

"Mind your manners, tubby!" cries Wildcat, already airborne and soaring right at the massive mastermind. His feet strike the big man's chest, and he finds himself rebounding as if he hit a steel wall. However, his actions distract the man long enough for the Black Canary to land a strike to Whale's neck. However, he hardly seems to feel it.

"That should have brought anyone down." murmurs the blonde bombshell.

"Go ahead, do your best. I spent my time behind bars working hard, toughening up this body, so I hardly feel your puny blows. But don't worry, you'll feel mine!" He lashes out, bringing one oversized fist down on, and through, the desk. The desk shatters, along with the Black Canary's hope for a quick conclusion to the fight.

The Legionnaire leader brings a small whistle to his mouth and blows three sharp tones. From outside the office, the heros hear the sound of running footsteps. "Company coming, Canary!" says Wildcat as he lifts a heavy chair over his head and brings it down on Tobias Whale's head.

Black Canary flips back to avoid a blow aimed at her head, and finds herself grabbed by a Legionnaire member coming in the door. She easily breaks his grip, reverses it, and sends him flying toward his leader as three more appear in the doorway. She grabs the water cooler next to the door, lifting the water bottle from the stand and hurls it right at them. Two are knocked out when they hit the wall behind them, while another rises from the floor to charge at her. Coming around the corner in the hall are three more similarly-dressed Legionnaire members who spread out once they're in the room. Their leader closes rank with Whale, keeping himself out of the bigger man's way.

Wildcat finds himself with black-masked men to either side of him. He reaches out and, before they realize what's happening, grabs their wrists. He pulls quickly, crossing his arms in front of himself. They are jerked off their feet and slam together, heads knocking together like a pair of overripe melons. One drops to the floor, as Wildcat turns to face the other. This one brandishes a small electronic device at the hero.

"Don't try it, mister. This thing packs enough voltage to put down anybody short of Superman. Should put you right to sleep, kitty!"

Across the room, the Black Canary is a spinning dervish of mayhem. Two men are attempting to grab her when she jumps up to grasp a light fixture. They step back in opposite directions, expecting her to swing one way or another on the shade. Instead, she swings her feet up, plants them against the ceiling, then kicks her legs out straight. Her actions tear the light fixture and several feet of wiring from the wall. As her opponents attempt to rush her, she swings the bundled wires, catching one within their snare. The other falls victim to a back kick when she glimpses him trying to sneak up behind her.

"Looks like their leader snuck out to get more help. Can you handle the rest in here?" Canary asks.

"Go, kid. I got this mook, and the Whale ain't going nowhere!"

As Canary darts out the door, Tobias Whale lunges for the masked hero. Wildcat in turn lunges forward, wrapping his hand around the wrist of the remaining Legionnaire. He hurls his opponent back behind him, driving the electronic stunner right into the Whale's forehead. A loud sizzling sound fills the air as the crime boss and his hireling slam together with enough force to send the weaker man into his own private realm of darkness. Wildcat watches with a bemused look on his face as the giant, pale-skinned man tried to stand, then pitches forward to lie sprawled as his feet. "Too bad old Ahab never tried an electric harpoon." he says to himself as he sprints off in search of his partner.

Out in the darkness, he stops for a second, and listens. The sounds of fighting come from the side trail, in the direction of the cabins. He takes off in that direction, hands stretched out to deflect any branches, feeling the hard path through the soft soles of his boots. He runs perhaps a hundred yards before stumbling on the first of Black Canary's victims. In the waxing moonlight, he can just make out the black-garbed figure on the ground before he moves on through the thickening trees, towards the noise.

Without warning, another body hurtles into him. Pausing only to be sure it isn't his partner, he grasps the man by his shirt with one hand, and slugs him with a hooking punch to the side of the head to render him harmless. As this one drops, he spies movement before him. "Canary, the cavalry is here!" he says loudly, both alerting her to his presence, and drawing some of the attackers away from her. One tries to tackle him low, as another reaches for his throat. Wildcat drops back onto the ground, wrapping his legs around the tackler and lifting him upward into the other attacker. Their heads meet with a satisfying crunch, one of them giving a yelp of pain before falling across Wildcat's body. Still conscious, he resumes his attack, pummeling at the surprised hero. Several blows land on Ted's face and chest before he is able to free his arms from under the man's body and throw him off to one side.

Meanwhile, having successfully taken down three separate attackers who came at her singly, the Black Canary has her hands full with four masked Legionnaires. She grips one by the wrist as he tries to punch her, twists the arm around until its owner is pulled against her, yet facing away, then kicks him away and onto the ground. This gives her the brief respite she needs to kick one man in the head, then swing around and kick the other in the groin, disabling them both. The last one, more wary, circles her as he waits for one of his companions to rise again. As the first one finds his feet once more, the last launched into a flying kick aimed right at the tall blonde's shoulders. His leading foot strikes, spinning her around. As she turns, she manages the latch onto the foot that is tucked under him, yanking back fiercely. The surprised attacker screams as his knees is dislocated, and he finds himself thrown into his partner, sending that one back down to the ground. This time, he stays down.

A flurry of punches tells her that Wildcat has his last opponent under control. When she hears the sound of a body dropping to the ground, she pulls out a small flashlight and illuminates the scene.

"Hmm, by my count, the Whale had a few more of these Legionnaire types than we figured." says Wildcat, doing a quick count in his head. "Doesn't matter much. Most of these mooks don't fight worth beans."

"I expected better of them. Figure there are any more at the cabins?" she asks.

Wildcat points in the direction of the cabins, where light can be seen spilling through open doors. "No, I don't think so. But I think we're about to have company of a different kind."

"Can you go and talk to them? I'm going to call in the State Troopers." Canary pulls a cell phone from one of the pockets in her costume, and punches up the number from its memory bank as Wildcat approaches the crowd of awestruck people.

It is long past midnight when the heros are able to leave the campground. Back on Ted's motorcycle, Black Canary once more engages her helmet's radio.

"Oracle? Any luck on that search?"

"I was wondering when you would check in. How'd you make out with the Whale?"

"He'll be spending a few more years in the tank, from the looks of things. The Legionnaires were involved, too. We missed that one completely."

"Damn. That's the third reference to them in the last month. I'll have to put a tag out for any other news on them." came the disembodied voice of Oracle. "About this Toby Barnes, he did show up. Native of Syracuse, enrolled at Syracuse University for the past seven years. Sounds like a professional student. No police record."

"How about family connections? Sounds like he has a connection to Wildcat through Gotham, possibly."

"Could be. Family moved up there from Gotham about thirty years ago. Father, Alexander Barnes, was a bookkeeper, mother Maureen was a housewife until after they moved. No sports connections, no known trouble with the law. Let's see..." Dinah can visualize the woman at the other end of the conversation running her finger down one of her many computer screens. "Paternal grandfather, Edward Barnes was - OH! That's it!"

"What's it?" Canary's question was loud enough for Ted to hear in front of her.

"What's the matter, BC?" he asks.

"Nothing. Oracle is doing a background check for me on the Legionnaires, is all." Black Canary responds even as Oracle is telling her the connection. She catches enough of it that it doesn't bear repeating, and signs off just as Ted pulls into the parking lot where they left the Jeep and trailer.

In an apartment in the Syracuse suburb of Liverpool, a figure stands hunched over a bathroom sink. He daubs at a deep gash in his forehead with a damp washcloth, gingerly dabbing at the still-welling blood. His long, black hair is matted with a mixture of blood and sweat. A black ski mask lies on the floor behind him.

"Damn those two for interfering! I was counting on the money from Whale for the explosives that are coming in. Now I'm out over a dozen men, and the money. Not to mention this!" He gestures at his own reflection, the four-inch split in his forehead over the icy blue eyes.

Ron Smith has been humiliated twice in twenty-four hours. He is not a happy man.

"Oh, did that feel good. Should have done that last night, but by the time we got back here, I just wanted to drop into bed."

"No need to apologize, Dinah. You know me, I'm no stranger to sweaty bodies. And to tell you the truth, you smelled pretty sweet last night compared to some I've been around." Ted grins as he pours a cup of coffee and set it in front of her.

Dinah sits down, pulls the towel from her damp hair, and tosses it in his face. "Oh, how would you know, Ted? You were out here on that ratty old couch! Thank you, by the way, for the use of the bed. You didn't have to, you know."

"That's what you think! Jay and Alan would never let me live it down if I was anything but chivalrous to you, kiddo. Bad enough, those two joes downstairs are probably thinking that we were up here doing the fandango all night."

A feigned look of shock crosses Dinah Lance's face. "Why, I never! Such thoughts passing through their minds! That's awful!" She breaks down in a fit of giggles, joined by Ted. When it subsides, she continues more seriously. "Actually, you and I need to have a talk with them before I leave."

"About what?"

"You'll have to wait for that." she says as she stands and starts toward the bedroom. "Give me five minutes to get changed, okay?"

"Thanks Benny. Dinah says she needs to talk to you, Toby and I about something. Is he around?" asks Ted as they step in out of the cold.

"Yeah, he and his sister are back in his room." Benny turns toward the hallway. "Hey! Tobes! Ted and Dinah need to talk to you!" he calls toward the back of the house. Toby appears in the doorway, his thin frame draped in an oversized, paint-splattered T-shirt.

"Yeah? What's up, guys?"

"Umm, this is actually kind of hard to say, but best to get it out in the open." starts Dinah. "Ted tells me that you guys know all about his background. I noticed yesterday that you seem to have a chip on your shoulder about Ted, right Toby?"

"Yeah, I guess so. It's kind of hard to explain, though, and..."

"No it isn't, Toby. I found out what it is, and I think it would be better if we told him."

"Told me what?" asks a puzzled Ted Grant.

"Toby's grandfather was Ed Barnes, a Gotham City police officer."

"Oh, my God! You mean...?"

"You've got it Ted." says Toby in a hushed voice. "My grandfather was one of the officers who died taking you to jail all those years ago. I know you really weren't to blame, but-"

"No, Toby, I understand." says Ted, walking over to lay a hand on the young man's shoulder. "If it weren't for those mugs trying to frame me, your grandfather wouldn't have died all those years ago. For what it's worth, I tried to save him. But the accident, well, there just wasn't much I could do."

"That's what the coroner's report said. Still, seeing you here, young again, when he never had the chance to see his son grow up, that just kind of hit me hard, you know?"

"Yeah, kid, I think I do. For what it's worth, every time I bust up a gang or put a murderer away as Wildcat, I think of your grandfather and his partner. I figure I owe it to him, and all the other joes who gave their life fighting for justice, to keep on plugging away. So, you think we can be friends now?"

"I think I can handle that." Toby grasps Ted hand in his. "Sorry for the hard time, dude."

"Yes, and explains why you gave ME such a hard time over a little paint job, too, little brother." Everyone turns at the sound of the new voice.

"Oh, sorry Ted. This is my sister, who I think you've already met."

Ted looks into the eyes of the woman standing behind Toby in the hallway.

"Ummm, Dinah, meet Lieutenant Abby Walker, Syracuse Police Department."

Note from the writer:

Well, isn't this just fine and dandy? Don't the heros usually try *not* to let the local police know their real identities? How will this affect their, ahem, working relationship? And what does Abby think about Ted showing up with a blonde bombshell at his side?

Oh, what does this look like, a freakin soap opera?

Come back next time, as Ted and friends take a little road trip to try and sort through things. Of course, it won't all be fun and soul-searching. Next issue will also see the re-introduction to the FDC universe of a classic villain. Or is he a hero? Or is he both? You'll have to come back to find out.

I'd like to thank all of the folks who have offered their praise and encouragement for the Wildcat series. As my first attempt at a fanfiction series, its great having that support. Also, thanks to the "Golden Age" crew among the FDC writers for their ideas on tying in with other stories and happenings in our little universe.

And I promise, it won't be such a long wait for the next issue!!

Till then,

Email me at cjburke@lycos.com

Chuck, aka

da 'Cat!