Issue #10 Guest starring: and "Redemption" by Chuck Burke

"Let me see if I've got this straight. We're talking about a genius who has been battling superheroes since World War II, who mastered the science of transferring his brain from one body to another over sixty years ago. He is currently residing in a mutated human body with superhuman strength, as he prepares to transfer his brain into a clone of Crusher Crock, one of your oldest enemies. And we're going up against him with a trio of villains, a pair of Checkmate agents, a circus strongman, a marksman, an illusionist, and two hand-to-hand fighters, namely you and I." "Don't forget, we're tackling him in his own lair, which is sure to be a nest of boobytraps, armed henchmen and high-tech weapons." Paul Kirk straightened up in his chair in the hotel bar and chuckled. "I gotta tell you, Ted, it's never dull when we get together." "Hey, I tried calling in help from the JSA and the JLA, but no luck." Ted Grant took a pull from a beer bottle. "D.I.N.A.H.'s sensors show a build-up of power usage at the Ultra-Humanite's lair. Your information on the cloning process that birthed you indicates that the power surge is a clue that the process is just about complete. We shoulda moved in tonight, but everyone was so beat from that battle at the Gulf of Mexico (see Bad Blood #25) that we're waiting till the morning." "Does that satellite computer have any information about Ultra's compound?" "Not much. A single road leading through a pass, place is a quarter mile from an electrical transmission line, and is drawing power off of it. Only thing visible on satellite image is a balcony carved out of a vertical butte wall, so we're dealing with something that was carved out, or built in existing caves." Ted flipped through a couple of pages of notes. "Our records only go back a year or so, and there's no sign of heavy power emissions in that area during that time. If he moved in there recently, it's an existing cave network, but we have no record of it." "Any idea where the power lines enter the complex?" "Near the bottom of the butte, which makes sense. If we want to take out the whole place, best bet is to knock out the power. Likely a transformer inside to step down the high voltage." "What about cutting the line outside of the place?" "A quarter mile of exposed line, across a wide open plain, and he's bound to have it under surveillance. Karnival might be able to cover us getting to it if it's just cameras, but if he has sound, infrared or ultraviolet, I'm not so sure." Paul looked up at the ceiling. "So what's the plan, chief?" "We go in, bust up the place, cause as much chaos as we can, and let our two Checkmate people get down to the transformer. I know Paula, Jake and Artemis are going to be trying to get Crusher out of there. And someone needs to see to the big guy himself." "That someone being you, right?" "And you. I want a steady gun at my side. We'll split the rest of Pierce's people among the teams." Paul leaned in close to the table where they sat. "You do realize, at least half of this group has no compunctions about killing. Is that going to be a problem for you?" "Actually, the only ones I figure might hesitate to kill are More, Karnival, and myself. And I'm not so sure about either of those two." Ted drained his bottle and set it down. "No, I don't have a problem with it. I started my career as Wildcat standing over the corpse of a friend that I'd killed, and watched two good cops die in the crash that set me free to find the people responsible me killing him. Death ain't no stranger to me." Paul smiled. "Like I said, Ted, it's never dull." He stood up and stretched. "About time we turned in, don't you think?" "Yeah, I think all the others have hit the sack. Me, I never did sleep much the night before a big fight. Sorry if I've kept you up, Paul." "Don't worry about it, Ted." Moments later, Paul Kirk unlocked his hotel room and stepped inside. He reached for the light switch, then paused as the door clicked shut. In the darkness, his head turned slowly, nostrils flaring, every sense alert. His eyes narrowed to slits, and as his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he slid a thin blade from a slit in his belt. His other hand reached for the switch as he took a step to one side and crouched down. Keeping his eyes nearly shut, he slapped the switch and dove forward into the room. "Nice, very nice." Recognizing the voice, Paul opened his eyes fully to see Artemis Crock lying on the bed, her hands moving in silent applause. "Looks like your reputation does you justice." "Does your mother know that you're here?" asked Paul, sliding the knife back into his belt. "I doubt she would approve." Artemis stood, the sheer robe she wore sliding off her shoulders as she walked towards him. "What mother doesn't know, etcetera, etcetera." Down the hall, Ted Grant stepped into his room, finding the company he expected. "Hey, lady, about time we got some rest," he said with a smile for Abby Walker. He turned to the sandy-haired man sitting at the room's small table with her. "Pierce, I presume?" The one-time Checkmate Knight stood. "Correct, Mr. Grant. Ms. Walker and I were just catching up a bit." "I understand, just like I understand that you Knights are more than a little paranoid about keeping your identities a secret. Which explains the hairpiece and the implants." "Implants?" "Don't know if that's the right word for 'em. Those things you got in your mouth, between the cheek and gum. Changing the shape of your face." Ted tapped his own jaw. "Some folks, like me, have a broad chin naturally. But on you, I can see how the face is shaped, and that jawline ain't natural." Abby laughed. "He's got you on that one, Pierce. What did I tell you, he can size a person up pretty quick." "I guess so." Pierce moved toward the door. "I'll let you folks get your sleep." "Before you go," said Ted, holding up one hand. "I just want you to know, I really appreciate you and your team-mates coming along. None of you have a stake in this, and after that mess in the Gulf, I wouldn't blame you for turning us down." "It's what we do, Mr. Grant. I'm just sorry the rest of the group couldn't come, but-" "But nothing. They were pretty banged up. And please, call me Ted." After Pierce left, Abby stood and came over to reach an arm up to Ted's shoulder. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my Checkmate connections." "Nothing to be sorry for. You've figured out by now that I worked alongside some Checkmate people myself." Ted wrapped an arm around her. "Number one rule about Checkmate is, you never talk about Checkmate. I figured that one out early on. That picture you saw up on the Higher Authority shouldn't even exist." "Well, they aren't such a big secret since-" Abby's head drooped down, recalling the events that led to her husband's death. "Hey, I understand, hon. Things blew up there, and Matt was one of the casualties. I've got to admit, I feel a little funny about it, like I'm benefiting from it by having you. I think I'd rather have him alive and with you, you know what I mean?" "I do, and I love you for it, you big lug." Abby pulled Ted down to kiss him. "Hey, careful there, Abby," said Ted when the kiss broke. "You start things up like that, and we'll never get to sleep tonight." Abby grinned wickedly. "I'm not that tired," she purred. "And I promise, I'll go easy on you." Nine hours later, a pair of rented Jeeps made their way across the open plains. One was driven by Manhunter, the other by Artemis Crock. The one driven by Artemis carried Wildcat, Huntress, the young Sportsmaster and Abby Walker. The other carried the members of Bad Blood: Pierce, Karnival, Hangfire and More. As they approached the location of the Ultra-Humanite's lair, the Jeeps appeared to veer away from the mountain range. As they drove, Karnival's forehead broke out in sweat under the illusionary flaming skull he projected to hide his true face. "Anything, Pierce?" asked Manhunter, glancing over at the passenger seat. The armored Checkmate knight was studying a small screen on his gauntlet. "No movement, no energy surges. Looks like their external sensors are all visual." "That, or his illusions cover other spectrums as well. We've never really sat down and tested it, have we?" asked More, leaning over between the front seats. "We did, but the tests didn't show him being able to flatten out into a two-dimensional shadow, either." Under his visor, Pierce frowned. "His powers might be evolving, somehow. "You know, guys, I'm sitting right here," said Karnival through gritted teeth. "And I'm not playing lab rat for anyone." In the other Jeep, Wildcat stared at the mountainside through a pair of binoculars, watching for any sign that they had been spotted. "How much further?" "Fifty yards," replied Abby, checking the range finder on the grenade launcher in her left gauntlet. "Hey, Artie, you think you can try to avoid some of the holes?" asked the Sportsmaster. "That's the third time I've smacked my head against the roll bar. "That freak show in the other car said to drive straight, or he might not be able to cover us," replied the fierce-looking woman at the wheel. "Thirty-five yards." Abby glanced up. "There's the cable. Up out of the ground, and in through a steel wall. Odds on that door being the most heavily-guarded point in this place?" "You want to talk odds, I'll give you Becky Sharpe's number." Artemis Crock scanned the expanse of rock wall ahead of them. "There's a trail, starts about twenty yards north of the power inlet. Couple of switchbacks, awfully easy for them to have someone waiting out of sight as we go up." "So we don't go up the trail if we can avoid it," said Wildcat. "How about a vertical crevice, something we can make an ascent in?" "Over to the right of the trail, looks like a fissure. You into rock climbing, 'Cat?" asked Artemis. "We only need to get one person up there," commented Abby. "Pierce could go up himself, but his armor's jets aren't very quiet. "Rock climb? No problem!" declared Sportsmaster. "I've scaled worse." "Hold that thought," said Wildcat as he gestured for the other Jeep to follow them to the crevice. "But I think I know an easier way."   Moments later, the Sportsmaster stared upward and shook his head from side to side. "Man, that ain't right. That is seriously not right." "I know what you mean, kid," replied More, laying an oversized hand on the young man's shoulder. "It freaks me out a little bit every time he does that." "He" was Karnival, and he was currently gliding up the vertical rock wall, a shadow on the stone. It only took seconds for him to cover the distance that the Sportsmaster estimated would take him over fifteen minutes to climb. As they watched, he reached the top, and suddenly he was back to normal, removing a pair of objects from a belt pouch. He drove a pair of Sportsmaster's climbing pitons into the rock and anchored the gauntlets from Pierce's Checkmate armor to them. He tossed the ends down with shackles attached. "How much weight can they take, Pierce?" asked Wildcat. "Assuming he's got them well-anchored, the winch in each gauntlet can lift just under a thousand pounds at full speed. They'll take up to fifteen hundred pounds, but the speed will be reduced by half." "We can buddy up, two or three at a time. There's nine of us, so at least one of those lines will have to make two trips." Wildcat turned toward More. "How about you, big guy? You okay taking one of those lines up to the top." "I've done it before. Just usually had Pierce backing it up," replied the strongman. "I can take my skates to the top," commented Sportsmaster. "The idea is to be unobserved. You go flitting around across that cliff face, you'll be spotted," said Pierce. "You think I'm stupid? These skates can hover and lift straight up," grinned the young man. "And a few other tricks that your buddies at Checkmate would love to duplicate, so hands off!" he added, holding up a hand as if he expected Pierce to try to take his footwear. "Don't worry kid. Checkmate and I don't exactly get along these days." "Let's go, guys. Pierce, you're going to stay down here in case one of the lines cuts loose, right?" asked Manhunter as he wrapped one of the lines under the shoulders of Huntress, Artemis and himself. "You want to join him, Sportsmaster?" "Yeah, I'll stay down here." Wildcat, Abby and Hangfire wrapped the other line around themselves. Once they tugged on the lines, Karnival switched on the winches and they started up. It took about five minutes to make the trip. When one of the lines dropped back down, Pierce grabbed it and looped it twice around More's chest, then attached the shackle to a loop on his armor. "I'll go up this way, my armor's jets might be heard." "Sorry to hear that, man. I wanted to see which was faster, your jets or my skates." Sportsmaster grinned again. "Don't worry, I'll hang back and catch you if you fall." At the top, Pierce reclaimed his gauntlets and put them on. "Okay, so what's the next step." "That would be in this direction," replied the Huntress. She was standing near a cave. "Your boy Karnival spotted this when he first got up here, and we've been scouting it out a little. Judging by the cigarette butts scattered around here, this must be where some of Ultra's boys come out to take a break. We found a couple of branching tunnels inside, one of them looks like it goes down pretty deep." "Nice work, Paula." Wildcat turned to Abby and Pierce. "You two want to head down there?" Pierce nodded, and Abby simply cocked the gun on her right gauntlet. "Looks like the trail leading upward doesn't get much traffic. If I had to make a guess, I'd say that's where Ultra's out. His soldiers aren't going to be taking breaks out here when they're with him." Huntress pointed toward a middle tunnel that showed signs of more traffic. "That makes it likely that Crusher's being held in the middle levels. "Artemis and I are going that way." "Hangfire and More, how about you go along with them?" suggested Wildcat. "Along with Sportsmaster, you should have enough muscle and firepower to deal with anything you find." As Bad Blood's master marksman and the massive powerhouse both nodded, Sportsmaster shook his head. "That just leaves you, Manhunter and the freakshow tackling the Ultra-Humanite. I'll go with you, cover your old butts." Wildcat looked at Huntress, and she nodded. "We can handle this." She came over to the young man who believed himself to be her son. "You be careful, Jake." "You're the one who taught me, Mom: careful's got nothing to do with it." Down in the bottom level of the Ultra-Humanite's lair, a pair slipped through the shadows of the heavy equipment powering the complex. The taller of the two checked a readout on a wrist-mounted scanner, then pointed. The other moved forward in the darkness, guided by ultraviolet lenses in her shooting visor. She looked around a corner, then gestured toward the other. Just as he joined her, the cavernous room was lit up like a desert afternoon. "Ya'll didn't think you could get in here that easy, did you?" said a man in black armor, leveling an oddly futuristic-looking weapon at them. "Actually, I was kind of hoping it wouldn't be that easy," replied Abby Walker, squeezing off a pair of shots as she ducked and rolled to one side. Beams of coherent light flashed out from the armored man's weapon, and the metal floor plates where she'd been standing exploded. There was a brief burst of noise, and her attacker was thrown back into a series of pipes. "There's one, there's going to be more," said Pierce, lowering his sonic blaster. "Let's find that power junction." "Dead reckoning puts it about thirty feet, this way." Abby led the way through the maze of pipes, conduits, pumps and transformers. "Go ahead. We've got company coming from behind." Pierce turned and launched several small globes that shattered on impact, releasing dark clouds of smoke. "Wonder how well they can see in the dark," he muttered as he switched to bullets and started taking out the overhead lights. "I never figured you for the subtle type," whispered Hangfire as he helped the Huntress set the fourth in a series of trip wires along a corridor. They had already noted that there were several dozen armed men in various stages of alertness in the eight rooms along the corridor. The wires were set eighteen inches off the ground, between each matching set of doors along the hallway. "Coulda used Karnival here, would have been easier to set these with him covering us." "That's the difference between a shooter and a hunter, kiddo. You want to take down a herd, you have to set your killing field and bring them to it." The Huntress looked up as a shudder went through Johnny Chancellor's body. "Oh," she said, taking a good look at his eyes. "I didn't realize… You had a hard time over there didn't you?" "Lost a few good friends in their killing fields, so, yeah, that kind of talk gets to me a little." Hangfire shook his head. "Forget it. Let's just get this done." "It's done, just let me hook it in." As they moved back into the alcove where Artemis and Moore waited, Huntress squatted down and plugged in a power pack. "That amplifier should give them enough juice to slow them down. Time for your act, big boy," she said, looking up at More. "Got it," replied Les Ample as he stepped out in the corridor. "All right, you punks! Who's ready for a piece of this?" he bellowed, his words echoing through the corridor. "What a piece of work," sighed Artemis with a grin. "He really doesn't know how to be a bad-ass, does he?" "Not that boy," agreed Hangfire, watching as a full score of uniformed henchmen came storming out into the hall. As they moved toward More, high voltage coursed through their bodies. The first ones out fell across the triplines, and as more came behind them, the voltage was conducted through the bodies on the floor. The more cautious ones realized the danger, and chose their steps carefully. These were picked off by shots from Hangfire and Artemis. "Why are you bothering with those rubber bullets?" asked Artemis in a low voice. "You know they'd just as soon kill you, right?" "Of course I do," replied Hangfire as he shot one of the advancing foot soldiers in the head, knocking him unconscious. "But I had enough of killing years ago. Now, I only kill if I don't have a choice." "I think you're going to be running out of choices soon," muttered Artemis as she fired a modified AK-47 at a pair of charging thugs who were hopscotching over their fallen comrades. "We're at the same altitude as that balcony, if you think that means anything." Wildcat turned to look at his son. "How do you figure?" The younger man held up his left hand, showing the bulky watch on his wrist. "Got an altimeter on this thing. Comes in handy for skydiving and parasailing." He tugged the black nylon sleeve back down over the device. "We should be within thirty feet of the opening," added Manhunter, looking back over his shoulder. When Wildcat gave him a puzzled look, Manhunter just shrugged. "I've been counting steps and tracking our turns." "Maybe you two should give up your masks and start a comedy act. Gadget Geek and the Nerd." Next to Manhunter, Karnival closed his eyes for a second. "I've got us covered, let's move in." The quartet moved forward, coming to a steel door. Manhunter tested the handle, then nodded. He moved to one side, drawing his Mauser in his right hand as he gripped the handle in his left. Karnival moved to the rear as Sportsmaster moved up to take his place, lacrosse stick in hand. He hefted the stick, a ball in the net, as Manhunter opened the door. The stick whipped forward, launching the ball into the chamber beyond. Manhunter pulled the door closed, and there was the sound of an explosion from the other side. Opening the door again, the four of them charged into a room thrown into chaos. Through the smoke, they saw several armored men, some of them on the floor, most of them milling around the room. In the center of the room, a five-foot diameter clear column reached from floor to ceiling. Inside, a hulking figure sat on a massively reinforced chair. He shouted orders to the others, watching a series of screens mounted within the column and speaking into a microphone suspended on an over-sized headset. "Squads C and F to the control room. Squad G to the central corridor. Initiate lockdown of arsenal, cloning lab and utility chamber." The brutish figure looked up toward the door. "We have costumed metas attacking, use maximum force to eliminate them." "There's our boy," said Wildcat as they moved through the doorway and into the fray. "That body don't look like it's doing so good." "Let me see how tough he is," said Sportsmaster, drawing a paintball gun and firing. A dozen small spheres shot out of the barrel of the gun, striking the column in rapid succession. Each one exploded, thundering in the enclosed space. The next to last explosion cracked the column, the last one struck the fissure and split the column in two. "Damn you, boy!" said the Ultra-Humanite as he was forced back against the far side of the column. "I think you made him mad," said Karnival, an evil grin on his skeletal face. He reached out both arms, and the room was filled with rats and snakes. "Let's see how someone who relies on medical tricks to survive feels about unclean vermin. And maybe shed a little darkness on these stooges," he added as the lights in the room appeared to go out. The only light remaining was in the remains of the Ultra-Humanite's chamber, and in that light, the brutish mastermind could see hundreds of rats pouring through the break in the plexiglass. "Idiot! My footsoldiers may be fooled by your phantasms, but I can see them for what they are!" The Ultra-Humanite rose from his toppled chair and started forward. He reached for a sparking control panel and pressed a button. A grid of laser beams erupted throughout the room, striking Sportsmaster and Manhunter, as well as several of Ultra-Humanite's men. "Damn it, I liked that jacket!" growled Sportsmaster as he shed his smoldering nylon jacket. Underneath, he wore a black t-shirt with a mesh vest over it. The front of the vest was covered with bulging pockets and pouches. "You okay, Manhunter?" asked Wildcat as he dropped to the floor. "Nothing that won't heal in a few seconds" replied the grim figure in red and white as he clasped a hand down on his thigh. The red cloth of his costume was stained a darker red where blood flowed from the five inch slice a laser had taken out of his leg. His other hand reached for a dagger and sent it flying, striking the Ultra-Humanite in the wrist. "That should keep him from springing any more surprises for a few minutes." "Let me see about these lasers," said Sportsmaster, firing a few more shots from the paintball gun. The sparking console in the control chamber exploded in a shower of sparks, and the glowing grid in the room faded from view. "Well, either it's gone, or it's shifted into a higher frequency. Here," he said, grabbing the nearest uniformed henchman and thrusting him up to the lever where the grid had been visible. "You test it." The hapless gunman stiffened, then relaxed when he realized he wasn't being burned. He relaxed further when a black-gloved fist smashed into his jaw, driving him into unconsciousness. "Yeah, I guess that worked," said Wildcat. "I think that's what you're looking for, Walker!" Pierce briefly pointed a high-intensity flashlight on his gauntlet at a cluster of large electrical devices, then switched it off. "Stepping transformers and distribution relays." Abby Walker hurried over to the cluster of equipment, lowering her backpack to the floor. "Give me about three minutes worth of cover. This job doesn't need to be neat." "Hell no, it doesn't," replied Pierce, smiling under his helmet. He spied a half-dozen uniformed guards coming through the gloom of the utility area and unleashed a barrage of sonic blasts at them. "Something along the lines of that job in Nairobi would be perfect." "Nairobi? But the only Knight with me on that job was-" "Word gets around in Checkmate, Walker." Pierce glanced at her, looking for signs of reaction on her face. None was visible in the darkened room as she assembled the explosives and detonators by touch. For two minutes more, she worked in silence broken only by occasional staccato bursts of gunfire. "That's it! Let's scramble!" "How long?" "Ninety seconds." Abby grabbed up her pack and moved next to Pierce. "Got a route picked out?" "Yeah, just follow me," replied Pierce as he starts forward. "No, that one was mine." "Sorry, babe, but take a look at his head. No blood. That was my shot." "Oh. I suppose I'll let you have that one, then. What's your count?" Hangfire raised the barrel of his pistols and closed his eyes for a second. "Twenty-eight." "Hah! Thirty-three!" barked Artemis Crock with a smirk. "I told you that you were slow, old man!" "Will you two pipe down?" hissed the Huntress. "I think the cloning chamber is behind this door?" "Besides," whispered More from behind them. "I counted forty-seven that I've taken out so far." "That's not fair," said Artemis. "You got at least thirty of those when you threw that door at them." More shrugged and moved up beside Huntress. "Ready, ma'am?" "Let's do it, big guy." "Ah, hell, where did he go now?" Wildcat looked around the control chamber. "Karnival, can you let up on the dark?" Without a word, the illusionist allowed his mentally-generated darkness to dissipate. It revealed a scene of chaos: electrical consoles around the room lay on their sides, sparks shooting from their severed connections. Dead and wounded soldiers of the Ultra-Humanite on the floor and draped over the consoles, seats and shattered partitions. And on the opposite side of the room, a half-open door to an elevator shaft. "Any bets on where Ultra went to in the dark?" asked Manhunter as he loaded a fresh clip in his pistol. "Let's see if he's still in there." SportMaster pulled a four-inch sphere from one of the compartments on his costume and hefted it in his lacrosse stick, then lobbed it with a slow, casual toss. It flew through the open door and dropped before striking the opposite wall of the shaft. He counted under his breath until they heard the explosion. "About seventy feet, might be the bottom of the shaft, or the car might have been blocking it." "Don't think so – no cables visible in the shaft," said Manhunter as he moved over to the open doors. Glancing up, then down, he nodded. "Car's up above, and there's an open door just below us." He flashed a light down the shaft. "Good shot, kid, but he wasn't in the shaft." "Let's see if we can catch up to him," growled Wildcat. Abby Walker and Pierce emerged from a stairway into a brightly-lit room full of smashed medical equipment and sprawled bodies. From an adjoining room, sounds of battle could be heard. "Which team?" asked Pierce. "Huntress's. Look at the blood in here." Abby waved a hand over the floor, which was covered in blood and gore from several of the dead and injured soldiers. "Good point," nodded Pierce. "Some of Hangfire's handiwork, too. Shall we join them?" He raised both hands, and Abby heard the sound of sliding metal as weaponry slid into place on his gauntlets. Together, they moved toward the door, one on either side. Pierce pointed at her, then pointed to the floor. Nodding, Abby crouched low, and swung around so she was in the doorway with both arms poised to fire. Above her, Pierce turned to look in the room, and surveyed the scene. Huntress, Artemis, Hangfire and More stood back to back in the middle of the smoke-filled room. A few of Ultra-Humanite's men remained on their feet, automatic rifles and pistols pointed at the quartet. "Any of ya'll want to walk out of here, now's your chance," said the Huntress. "We're here for the Sportsmaster, and the Ultra-Humanite." "Aww, darlin', it's nice to know you still care." Huntress head whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice. As she turned, one of Ultra's men, started moving his gun to fire. Abby pressed a stud on her right gauntlet, there was a quiet **chuff** and the man dropped where he stood. "Crusher?" asked Huntress as she looked for the unseen speaker. "You there, hun?" "Sure am, baby," said a tall, well-built red-haired man as he pushed a couple of the soldiers aside dressed only in a pair of white shorts. Artemis' eyes lit up at the site of her father, looking younger, healthier and handsomer than she had ever known him. "Ultra used his science gadgets to turn back the clock for me, so I can lead his forces." He glanced at the remaining solders. "Stand down, but stay alert." Pierce looked down at Abby. "Think Wildcat guessed wrong on Ultra's plan here?" Abby shook her head. "I don't know. But it makes sense, in a way. Crock was, is, an impressive physical specimen. Would make a good enforcer, but a leader?" She turned as a trio of soldiers came up behind them. She got two shots off fast, but a grenade blew her and Pierce off their feet. She slammed into a wall, her kit bag ripping apart and an assortment of explosives, detonators and triggers went skittering across the floor. Pierce fired a series of explosive rounds at the trio, knocking them unconscious or dead: he didn't care which as he knelt to check on Abby. "You all right, little missy?" he asked. She stared up at him. "Little missy? Where'd you learn that name?" "Huh? It's nothing, just, whatever. You okay?" "Yeah, yeah," she said, looking around. "Hell, lost most of my boom bag." She heard a soft beep in her earpiece. "Thirty seconds!" she said, the radio link relaying her remark to the rest of her companions. Each member of the team invading the Ultra-Humanite's lair not already wearing a mask or visor reached for self-adhesive goggles provided by Pierce and put them on. Crusher Crock looked at his wife. "What the hell you doing, Paula? Why don't you help me out here, and Ultra can give you the treatment he did me." Artemis watched as, for the first time she could ever remember, her mother hesitated. "Just get him out of here, Mom!" she yelled as she saw three figures moving into a doorway behind Crusher. "Yeah, Paula. The Humanite's on the run in here somewhere, and his control center is trashed." Wildcat stepped into the room. "You and Artie, get him out of here, and we'll mop up." Crusher Crock's head whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice. "Wildcat! Looks like you got the same treatment I did!" He brought his hands together, squeezing his right hand with his left until the knuckles popped. "Damn, I never thought I'd get the chance to do THIS!" He unleashed a punch directly at Wildcat's face, a punch that narrowly missed as the former heavyweight champion ducked instinctively. "Aww, hell, Crock, we ain't got time for this right now!" said Wildcat, dropping the gun he was carrying and dropping into a fighting stance. "Like hell, we don't. I've been studying the greats, 'Cat! Dempsey, Frazier, Ali, I learned from all of them. All of you, stand back and leave us alone." Crock moved in closer, bobbing and weaving. His left hand swung up from his waist, fist slamming into Wildcat's lower ribs. His right fist hooked around, under Wildcat's raised arms and into his ribcage on the left side. "Like that, learned that from Sugar Ray!" crowed the one-time Sportsmaster. "So that's how you want it, huh?" Wildcat crouched a little lower, and unleashed a series of right and left jabs at Crock's midsection. Once, twice, three times, Crusher Crock slammed his left fist into the side of Wildcat's head. "C'mon, Wildcat! Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, you ready for the stinger?" A quick right tagged Wildcat on the chin. "Or should I just make like Tyson and bite off your ear?" "Got a better idea, Crock," said Wildcat as he took a step backward. Seeing the opening, Crock stepped forward, both arms swinging in from the side at Wildcat's head. "You should have listened to Jerry Burke!" Wildcat stepped back forward, his right fist coming straight up from a low swing and crashing into Crock's jaw. The impact lifted the man off the ground and sent him flying backwards to land in a heap on the floor. Grinning, Manhunter shook his head in amusement. "And who the hell was Jerry Burke?" "Bantam-weight boxer from Philly, before my time." "And what great bit of boxing wisdom did he impart to you?" "And I quote: That'll teach the son of a bitch to keep his guard up." There was a muted roar as the complex shook, and the lights went out. Wildcat blinked as his eyes adjusted to the filtered view from the starlight lenses in his mask. Several of the Ultra-Humanite's soldiers started to rise, drawing fire from Hangfire, Artemis and Manhunter. As the fighting erupted again, a loud cry was heard from an adjoining room. "What the hell?" asked Huntress, her head whipping around toward the door. "That sounds like Crusher." Pierce's visored face turned toward Abby Walker. "Looks like we're back to the clone theory," he said as he fired a blast of sonic energy at a cluster of soldiers. His powered armor launched him across the room to land near the doorway. Huntress joined him and looked into the room beyond. The cries were coming from a frail body on a hospital bed, with multiple IV tubes and monitor wires connected to machines through out the room. "Crusher!" cried the older villainess, rushing to his side. "Crusher, it's me, Paula!" "Looks like they had some kind of pain-dampening field on him," said Pierce, pulling a power pack out of a belt pouch. He examined the machines, and cut the power cord on one of them. He quickly stripped the power wires, and connected them to the power pack. Crusher Crock relaxed on the bed almost immediately. "That damn bastard! Wouldn't let me die, said he needs me in case something happens to the clone," gasped the one-time world-class athlete. "I didn't want you to see me like this, darlin'." "We're getting you out of here, Crusher. We're taking you home." "No. You. Are. Not." Standing in another doorway of Crusher's room, the pale, misshapen form of the Ultra-Humanite stood with an automatic rifle held in his massive hands. "You are going to die." Pierce started to activate his sonic blaster, but before he could raise his hand, a fist-sized ball sailed through the opposite doorway and impacted in front of the Ultra-Humanite with a small explosion. "Funny, I was about to say the same thing, ugly!" said the Sportsmaster, lacrosse stick in his right hand and another explosive ball in the other. "Insolent boy! You're too stupid to realize you've signed your own death warrant!" The Ultra-Humanite stepped back into an adjoining room, bringing a hand down on control panel. "I'll find another body to place my brain in, and hunt you down like the pathetic animal you are! That is, assuming you survive my pets!" A shimmering field appeared beyond the Ultra-Humanite, with a brightly-lit laboratory visible within. He stepped through as a series of explosions were heard elsewhere in the complex. As soon as he was through, the portal disappeared. "Dammit, what did he do?" asked Wildcat. Artemis was the closest to the stairs. She raised her head, nostrils flaring. "Damn, what's that smell?" She sniffed again. "Smells like apes?" "Apes. Yeah, that'd be about right," said the older Crusher Crock, overhearing his daughter form the other room. "Ultra said something about infecting apes with some kind of virus, he was working on it in the lab up above here." "Aw, man, I don't mind mixing it up with apes, but not if they're sick," said More, moving closer to the stairs. Karnival shifted to his two-dimensional shadow form and slid out through the doorway, returning within seconds. "They're loose, and they're coming down here." Karnival appeared to grow and change shape, becoming a large albino ape with matted hair and black spittle dripping from his mouth. "They ain't pretty." "How many?" asked Pierce. "Several dozen. Looks like he was planning to overrun a small city with them." "We can't let them get out of here. We're not that far from town." Wildcat looked around the group. Most of them were nodding in agreement. "Artie, you and Jake, check on your mom and dad. Pierce!" he yelled, raising his voice. "We need you out here!" In the medical lab, Paula was trying to figure out how to move the bed Crusher was in without disconnecting it from the machine that appeared to be suppressing his pain. "Give it up, Paula. Just get out of here, will ya?" said her husband. "Yeah, baby. Leave the old husk here. Let's blow this joint, and I'll make sure your last few years are happy." Huntress, Sportsmaster and Artemis turned to see the younger Crusher Crock back on his feet, standing in the doorway. "The others are all running off to fight Ultra's monkeys." "The hell with you, you God-damned abomination. To think, I almost believed you were my Crusher." The Huntress raised her rifle. "Mom, wait! He's got all of Daddy's memories, his DNA, maybe-" "Shut your mouth, Artemis. Don't you even dare suggest that I take this, this, this freak of science back home with us." Huntress raised the rifle from where she'd aimed it at the clone's chest, and fired. The .50 caliber shot struck him between the eyes, blowing his head apart in a spray of hair, bone and soft tissue. "That'll keep Ultra from putting his brain in there!" Above, Wildcat, Manhunter, Abby Walker and the members of Bad Blood found themselves in over their heads. "This is nuts," said More, heaving one of the crazed apes into a cluster of three others. "Big man's got a point," said Pierce. "Abby, can you bring this place down on them?" "I've got the explosives," she said. "Most of my detonators got scattered down below. I've got a radio det here, though. And enough wire to set about six other charges off it." Abby raised her left hand and fired off a series of four explosive rounds from her gauntlet. "And I'm down to shooting air, here, anyway." "I'll give you a hand," said Karnival. "They aren't reacting much to my illusions anyhow." "Give them cover, people!" yelled Wildcat. "We're gonna have to break and run pretty quick once they're finished." "Hangfire, you know explosives, right?" asked Abby. "Run back down and see if you can find some transmitters in the gear I dropped." Bad Blood's marksman nodded, tossing a pistol and four clips to Wildcat before he slipped out of the room. He ran downstairs, noting the sprawled body of Crusher Crock in the doorway. "Better get ready to move. Walker's gonna bring this place down." "Dammit, we can't get this thing to move!" Huntress had tears running down her cheeks. "We've got the monitors off him, but there's too many IVs and medications, not to mention that pain suppressor." "Paula, go!" wheezed Crusher. "I'm already dead, my body just don't know it yet." Hangfire rummaged around, discarding equipment that was obviously broken beyond repair. "Hell, none of the radio transmitters are salvageable," he said into his radio link. "Only thing we've got is wired triggers." "I'll set it off," said Crusher. Huntress stared at him. "I can't move out of here. I can take the trigger. Leave me a radio, and let me know when you get out, and I'll set it off." "That's suicide, Daddy!" cried Artemis. "No, it's just accepting what's already happened, baby girl." Crusher closed his eyes for a second. "Go on, Artie, Jake. Get up there, tell them what we're doing. You, there, you get the thing set up, and leave it with me." "No, Crusher, I'm not leaving you," said Huntress, laying her head down on his chest. "Yes you are, if I have to have this guy knock you out and carry you. Go on, kids. You've done your old man proud today." Artemis stepped closer to the bed, leaning down to give her father a hug. "I love you, Daddy." "I love you too, Artie. Jake, you watch out for them, okay?" "I will, Pop." Jake took his sister's hand and led her out of the room as Hangfire stepped in and handed him the trigger. "I'll run the wire up to the next level. Here," he said, handing the former felon a radio headset. "Okay, kid. Paula, honey, this is it." The old man looked up at his wife, a smile on his face. "We had a hell of a run, didn't we?" "We sure did, you damn fool." Paula pulled her hood back, letting her snow-white hair fall free as she once again laid her head on his chest. "We sure did." "Okay, let's get out of here!" Hangfire appeared in a doorway, gun in hand, firing at a pair of apes descending upon a prone Wildcat. Behind him, the Huntress cocked her rifle and fired at another ape. "You've got a transmitter?" asked Abby, setting the last charge. Hangfire pulled a grenade from his belt and tossed it into the stairs leading downward. "Close enough. Here," he said, handing her a spool of wire that trailed down the stairs. "Hook it up, Crock's gonna blow it when we're out." "What the-?" Abby took the spool and connected it to the main detonator. "Never mind. It's set." "Up the stairs, people!" called Pierce. "We'll blow that one, trap them in here." "C'mon, Wildcat," said Abby, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. They scrambled up the stairs, Pierce, Sportsmaster and Hangfire bringing up the rear with heavy gunfire to keep the apes from following. Above, they found the way clear and made their way up to the top of the butte. Once outside, Pierce called to Crusher Crock over the radio. "We're out." "I hear ya. And tell everyone there, thanks." Seconds later, they felt the earth move under their feet. Wildcat pulled out his cell phone and placed a call. Snapping the phone shut a few minutes later, he smiled. "D.I.N.A.H. isn't showing any signs of life or movement below us. I think we got them. Got a trace on that portal that Ultra used, too. Might be able to trace it." "Great. Whoopie." Sportsmaster looked up, his helmet lying on the ground next to him. "How about we go home now?" "You can go home, Jake," said Artemis. "I, I need to get away for a while." The Huntress looked at her daughter. "What the hell does that mean?" "It means, you put a bullet in my father's head! I don't care if he was a clone, he was Daddy, maybe moreso than that corpse in the bed. I could have had a father again!" "Baby, that thing was not your father, it was an abomination, a sin against nature." "Yeah, well, you keep telling yourself that," said Artemis. "But it was a clone, with his memories, his personality, dammit, that was Daddy! I don't know what your problem is with that," she asked, casting a look at Manhunter, "but you're wrong." Artemis turned and walked to the edge of the butte, and looked down. Spotting the trail below, she jumped. "Don't worry, Mom, I'll go home with you. We'll get by without her. That is," he said, looking around, "if I'm able to go home." "Yeah, kid, we'll get things taken care of at Belle Reve." Wildcat smiled, and looked at Abby. She nodded. "That's nice, but there's something you need to know, Jake." Huntress took her son's hand. "Jake, I promised I would tell you, so-" "Paula, now ain't the time. We'll get you two home, so you can start making whatever arrangements you want to make for Crusher." Wildcat wrapped an arm around Abby. "You let me know what those arrangements are, okay?" Tears welled up in Paula's eyes. "Thank you, Te- Wildcat. I'll make this right by you, I promise." "All in good time, Paula. All in good time." Pierce walked over to Karnival, Hangfire and More. "I was able to get in touch with Enigma, he's going to warp out here to get us home." He turned to the others. "You want the quick way home, or do you want to fly back in the-" "We'll take your way!" said Abby and Jake simultaneously. "Why did you do it, Ted?" Abby Walker stood in the window of Ted Grant's apartment, watching the sun rise. "You could have told Jake that he's your son." "Of course I could, honey. But I figure, what with Crusher's death and especially with Artemis taking off, I figure she needs a son right now more than I do." Ted stepped up to the window behind her. "I figure, I've got plenty of time to tell him the truth. Let them mourn Crusher together, hell, as far as Jake's concerned, Crusher's more of a father than I am." "Only because he doesn't know you, big guy." Ted wrapped his arms around her. "Ah, you only say that cause you love me, little missy." Abby stiffened in his arms. "That's the second time in twenty-four hours that someone has called me that." "You don't like it? I didn't mean anything by-" "No, it's not that. That was Matt's pet name for me, that's all. And Pierce called me that, yesterday. It's just, I don't know, odd." "Aww, I wouldn't go getting too upset about it, baby. It's just a nickname, right?" "I suppose," replied Abby, relaxing into his arms once more. "I suppose." Whoof. Not exactly a cast of thousands, but it felt like it! My gratitude and apologies to Dale Glaser for the use of his Bad Blood characters, and for tying them up for the past 8 months! When I set out writing at FauxDC, I said I'd like to see a story with Wildcat decking Darkseid. I haven't had the nerve to do that, yet, but I figure sending him, with others, up against the Ultra-Humanite is the next best thing, right? Agree, disagree, like it, don't like it? Let me know, at FDCWriter@hauntedparsonage.us Oh, and in the story, I mentioned several boxers by name, most of whom you probably know. And one that I'm pretty sure you don't know. John "Jerry" Burke was a bantam-weight, Golden Gloves boxer and minor-league baseball player from Philadelphia, circa 1900. He was also my grandfather. He stood all of 5'5" tall, weighed about 125, and had (with his second wife) two strapping, 6' sons. The oldest one, my uncle, took up boxing in high school. As the legend goes in my family, my uncle came home, bragging about having won his first match. Grandpop stood up and challenged his son to take a swing at him. My uncle protested, afraid he would hurt his father who was in his upper 60's at the time. Grandpop taunted him and goaded him, until he took a swing. When my uncle regained consciousness, he was in the dining room. Lying amongst the splinters of the dining room table, and the doors that he had been punched through. And grandpop was standing there with a grin, turning away and saying to my father "That'll teach the little sonofabitch to keep his guard up." Chuck aka, da 'Cat!

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