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Post by DocQuantum on Aug 3, 2017 6:38:51 GMT
Chapter 1: Doktor Thirteen
by wts7a
March, 1986:
Reaching a tentative hand out toward the objects resting before him, the doctor withdrew his hand with a sudden jerk, as if he had been electrocuted. His face retained its emotionless expression, however, and he merely said, "Interesting."
While recruiting and deploying his agents over the years in order to gather artifacts such as these, he had used the colorful pseudonym of Doktor Thirteen. His quiet academic life as a university professor would have been exposed to too much scrutiny had he not done so, especially if his secret memberships in the underground Nazi Party and the Thule Society had become known. But even now that his ties to the Nazi leadership had enabled him to reach his current status, he preferred to be called Thirteen. Johann Schmidt was far too common a name for such as he, after all.
Doktor Thirteen's agents had done well in obtaining these talismans that had been scattered on some other parallel universe's Earth, especially now that the door between these two universes had mysteriously closed, seemingly forever. As his thoughts wandered to the matter of traveling between Earths, he realized that it was for the best, really. Had the costumed outsiders not learned how to travel between their Earths and this one, his masters might not have had to conquer this Earth twice. (*)
[(*) Editor's note: See "Crisis on Earth-X," Justice League of America #107 (September-October, 1973) and "Thirteen Against the Earth," Justice League of America #108 (November-December, 1973).]
Still, adversity made one strong, he mused. The mistake of the Freedom Fighters and their mysterious allies from another universe was that they had never seriously entertained the idea that the Reich might rise again, like a proverbial phoenix. And indeed it had in the wake of the recent Crisis on Infinite Earths, during the Freedom Fighters' brief sojourn in the parallel worlds they had earlier visited.
As he returned the three artifacts to the glass case where he stored them, Doktor Thirteen took one last moment to examine them. Even beneath the glass, he could feel their arcane energy magnifying his own sorcerous talent. The Red Jar of Calythos, the Silver Wheel of Nyorlath, and the Green Bell of Uthool were now the Fourth Reich's to command. And, more specifically, his as the leader of the Reich's Thule Society, those charged to investigate the supernatural. Mystical experimentation with the three artifacts had also revealed the existence of further artifacts that had thus far remained utterly hidden in this dimension, until now, but were ripe for the picking at his leisure. He allowed himself a rare moment of emotion as a strange smile slowly marred his features.
***
Elsewhere, the demons Abnegazar, Rath, and Ghast surveyed the strange new world they had found themselves in following their participation in the War Between Darkness and Light. (*) "Surely fortune smiles upon us," cackled Ghast, "for I sense no sign of the Presence's hand upon this world."
[(*) Editor's note: See John Constantine, Hellblazer: The War of Darkness and Light.]
"Ghast is correct," replied the one called Rath with a grin. "The Wrath of the Presence is nowhere to be found, and even the Father of Magic is strangely missing."
"Have a care, brothers," the third demon croaked, his eyes narrowing to slits as he scanned the ether around him. Abnegazar was still nursing the deep wounds that Doctor Fate had inflicted upon his etheric body during the aforementioned war, and used his ever-present pain to focus his intense concentration. "Though the Presence seems to have forgotten this world, there are still those who might oppose us."
His brothers nodded in agreement, all three silently verifying that they, too, had sensed a powerful champion guarding this world, although its connection to the Presence was unknown for now.
"Best to bide our time and allow our talismans to strengthen this sorcerer who holds them, for I sense that he and his allies shall soon remake this world in our image without requiring us to lift a finger." Abnegazar let loose a pain-maddened laugh, then, and soon his brothers joined him. The world silently shivered in their wake.
***
Elsewhere, as the Demons Three laid out their plans, an aging, half-forgotten god felt the presence of evil. And in his senile mind, it forewarned of an ancient foe's return.
"Apep!" the sun-god roared, trembling with fury.
His children watched him fearfully, for surely he was mad. One among them spoke up, quietly breaking the silence that followed.
"Fear not, grandfather," he said softly, bowing before his lord. "In the past, you have summoned mortal champions to aid in your battle with the Chaos Serpent. Surely you can do so again."
Ra nodded silently, already his fragile mind setting in motion the plans that would grant him an agent on the Earth. "You shall not defeat me, my ancient foe," he whispered, but no one paid any mind to his mad ramblings.
***
Doktor Thirteen frowned as he slowly made his way through the corridors of the Fourth Reich's secret headquarters beneath Berlin. He didn't appreciate being summoned before the Führer as if he were a child. He especially resented it considering that woman had been the one to summon him.
While it was true that Dr. Ulla Minerva was indeed a genius, her rise to power as head of the Reich's Ministry of Science had been particularly bloody. Unknown to most in the Reich, many men more qualified for the position had been rendered incapable of assuming the role under mysterious circumstances. Her direct predecessor had died a particularly horrifying death after an accident involving an unknown alien virus he had been experimenting with.
As he approached the doors of the council chamber, Doktor Thirteen banished such thoughts from his mind. Better to face Minerva with a clear head and no trace of hostility, for the woman now held the spotlight among the Reich's ministers. After all, she was responsible for granting the Führer his new and decidedly more invulnerable form, which had been capable of even surviving an assassin's bomb. (*)
[(*) Editor's note: See Freedom Fighters: The Fight Continues, Chapter 17: Judgment at Nuremberg.]
As he entered the council chambers, he found the other ministers already seated. Adolf Hitler himself sat at the head of the table, with Dr. Minerva close by at his right side. Adam Hitler, the Deputy Führer and successor, looked deflated and unhappy with his current position. It was obvious to Doktor Thirteen that the younger Hitler had hoped to succeed to the leadership of the Fourth Reich very soon. Now that the elder Hitler had not only regained his youth and vitality, but also something apparently enabling him to cheat certain death, Adam Hitler probably felt like little more than Aryan window-dressing.
Doktor Thirteen saluted as he entered, taking that instant to study others already seated. The minister of defense was there, as well as the minister of the treasury and the interior minister responsible for keeping the peace within Germany itself. Two other figures he did not recognize sat at the far end of the table; they were presumably ambassadors from the other Axis powers. As he took his seat, the doctor steeled himself for the meeting that would follow.
"So nice of you to join us, Herr Doktor," Minerva purred, her airy tone hiding the malice he felt as her venomous eyes met his.
"I was detained in my laboratory," he murmured. "You did request that I send over the metal wings and harness we recovered from Egypt, did you not? And the tone of your message implied that it should be done with due haste." Thirteen was pleased by the curious glance that the minister of defense gave to Minerva. His opening volley had its intended effect.
"What is this, Minerva?" the minister of defense said. "Sequestering items from another department?" The minister had been adamant that each department of the Reich be autonomous unto itself, each minister being equal to the next, and subservient only to the Führer himself. Dr. Minerva's recent ascension to the Führer's favor had done wonders for the woman's ego, and the damage she had done to inter-ministry relations was wondrous as well.
Minerva seemed annoyed as she turned her attention from Doktor Thirteen. "Surely you didn't expect me to allow the Thule Society to keep them forever, did you?" she said, her tone anything but questioning. "It's clear from the good doctor's reports that there is nothing arcane about the harness or the wings, despite the inscription he found in the tomb itself. The wings are some unknown form of irradiated metal, possibly even of extraterrestrial origin, and that clearly falls under my jurisdiction."
The minister of defense seemed ready to make a reply, when the ambassador from Imperial Japan nervously spoke up. "We have no time to discuss these trivial matters," he said in oddly accented German. "The Freedom Fighters are once more in the public view, and we must deal with it immediately." Around the table, the other men and women nodded their agreement.
The ambassador from Italy took this as his cue to speak up. "Except for Egypt, of course, the Italian forces in Africa have completed their mission and are prepared to move back into Europe. They merely await my word and the word of this council. The African Resistance never put up much of a fight when we conquered the northern sector of their continent, and we waste much time and energy trying to pursue them deeper into the heart of the country."
Doktor Thirteen winced at this. An Italian withdrawal from Africa would likely mean the Reich's peacekeeping force there would be removed as well. He lamented all of the mystical secrets that would remain sequestered on that dark continent, comforting himself with the fact that most of the notable objects and ancient structures in North Africa and the occupied half of Egypt had been deconstructed and shipped to the Fatherland, just as the Axis powers had done earlier in Europe.
"Japan's forces have already escalated their assaults on the United States' West Coast," said the Japanese ambassador. "But if the Freedom Fighters have truly returned, we shall need assistance from our other allies." He shot a questioning glance toward Hitler after this, obviously expecting an answer.
It was no secret that the Japanese had questioned the loyalty of the Germans and Italians to the war against America, especially since neither nation had been as visible as Japan in their attacks on that front. Thirteen had his own theories about that, having deduced that the Japanese had been used in conjunction with Nazi agents scattered throughout the U.S. to keep the Americans occupied, while the remaining Axis powers focused their attention on conquering Europe again.
"We are well aware of the problems you may face now with the Freedom Fighters active once again," Minerva said quietly.
Doktor Thirteen was taken aback. What sinister power had the minister of science exercised on the Führer that she presumed to speak for him? Oddly, Hitler made no move to respond, content to let Minerva continue.
"With the advanced technology at our disposal now," she said, "combating the Freedom Fighters should present no problem. You saw how quickly we conquered Europe again, did you not?"
The Japanese ambassador looked dubious. "Despite this, our own sources report that Resistance forces still exist in both France and Great Britain, not to mention within Germany and Italy as well. Surely your 'great technology' would have dealt with this by now, no?"
It was the minister of defense's turn to speak up now, resentful of what he presumed to be an attack on his duties. "We have done all we can, Führer," he said, pointedly ignoring the Japanese ambassador as he turned instead to address Hitler. "The resistance movements are under control for the moment, but there is no way we could possibly stamp out all resistance without purifying the entire continent of non-Aryans."
The Japanese ambassador shifted uncomfortably, glaring at the minister of defense.
"Enough," Minerva said quietly as she stood, drawing everyone's attention back to her. "As I said, the other-dimensional technology at our disposal should be sufficient to deal with the Freedom Fighters, especially given the time we've had to study and refine it during the European war. (*) Japan will continue its attacks to distract the Americans, and the other Axis powers shall join you as soon as our troops have been recalled to their respective bases of power throughout the world. That should be sufficient, no?"
[(*) Editor's note: See Feature: Young Allies: Choices, Prologue: Visitors from Utopia.]
No one made a move to deny it, for Minerva had obviously decided the meeting was over. Yawning as she turned to the Führer, she nodded toward him as she returned to her seat.
On cue, Adolf Hitler rose, speaking for the first time since the meeting began. "We shall crush the Freedom Fighters this time, and we shall extend our Fourth Reich across the world!"
Shouts of "Heil Hitler" and the like rang throughout the room, but Doktor Thirteen couldn't help but feel less than inspired.
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Post by DocQuantum on Aug 3, 2017 6:42:48 GMT
Chapter 2: Occult Counterparts
by Doc Quantum, with Earth Elemental 99
The White House, Washington, D.C.:
"If we're getting back into the hero biz full-time again," said Phantom Lady, "then isn't it time we got a permanent headquarters of our own? I appreciate having the training facility the government supplied for us, but it's not exactly a place we can use as a base. I'm talking about something that we could fully equip with everything we'd need for the fight against the Axis, something like the armory that D.A. Pearson provided for us back in Earth-One's New York City, the one that we were hardly able to use before we ended up on the wrong side of that world's law." (*)
[(*) Editor's note: See "The Freedom Fighters," Freedom Fighters #1 (March-April, 1976).]
"All in good time, Sandy," said Black Condor, walking next to Sandra Knight through the White House corridor toward the Oval Office as if he owned the place. The fact was that he did meet with the president regularly in his capacity as Tom Wright, an important political leader on Capitol Hill who had helped get the president elected in the first place. "Personally, I'm not so sure we should be settling down here, or anywhere on the East Coast. The war's not going to be won in Washington, but in Occupied California, and overseas in Europe, Asia, and Africa. Settling down at this point seems like a bad idea. What do you think, Roy?"
"I think I should've had a bite to eat before we came here," said the Human Bomb, alias Roy Lincoln. "I came straight from my lab, and I'm starving!"
"I'm sure the president will have someone bring us some snacks, Roy," said Phantom Lady, grinning at her teammate.
The three members of the Freedom Fighters were ushered into the Oval Office, where they were greeted by President Donald Daniel Richards, DDR himself, as well as the three other members of the team: Uncle Sam, Hourgirl, and the Ray.
"How'd you get here before us?" asked Black Condor.
"You can't beat the three of us for speed!" said Hourgirl. "You'd probably have been here earlier, too, if you'd flown alone instead of joining up with the others first."
"Are you calling us slow?" said the Human Bomb.
"If the shoe fits, Lincoln," said Hourgirl, grinning.
"I'm mighty glad to see you three," said Uncle Sam.
"Hello, Sam," said Phantom Lady, giving Uncle Sam a hug and a peck on the cheek.
"I know I'm not all that much next to the Spirit of America, here, but I am still the president," joked President Richards. Many years ago, the man who was now the president of the United States had been a rookie cop-turned-mystery-man called the Manhunter, and he'd fought alongside these Freedom Fighters during the 1940s until his retirement from crime-fighting. But whenever he was reunited with his old teammates, it always felt like old times.
"We're always glad to see you, too, Mr. President," said Phantom Lady, hugging President Richards.
Shaking the president's hand, Black Condor asked, "So, what's the occasion? Why does the chief executive want to talk directly with the Freedom Fighters?"
"Why would the president want to talk about a Freedom Fighters mission when there's a war on, you mean?" said Richards. "I see your point, but there's a little more at stake here than you may realize."
"What's going on, Mr. President?" asked Phantom Lady, looking concerned. "Is the war going worse than we thought?"
"The war is what it is," sighed Donald Richards. "But no, our timetable for ending the war as swiftly as possible is still on track. Unfortunately, it could be completely derailed if something isn't done soon."
"And the reason you sent for us rather than the OSS or a crack military team is because that something is a bit out of the ordinary, isn't that right?" asked the Human Bomb, whose stomach growled loudly before the president could respond. "Excuse me, sir. I was just working on a project with Darrel in the lab when Sandy and Tom came by to pick me up."
"Can we get the Freedom Fighters a plate of sandwiches and some coffee?" the president called with amusement to one of his aides.
"Yes, sir, Mr. President," said the aide, leaving for the White House kitchen.
"Thank you, sir," said Roy Lincoln.
"You're welcome," said Richards. "And you guessed right: this isn't something I can leave with ordinary agents or soldiers. I need the Freedom Fighters. I've briefed Uncle Sam about it already. Sam?"
Uncle Sam nodded his head and stepped forward. "All of us here, exceptin' Hourgirl, have visited other worlds besides our own. We lived on Earth-Two for a short while back the '40s, when we were under the delusion that we were actually from there. And we spent a couple of years in the '70s on Earth-One, though time passed a bit shorter there, and it was already the '80s on that world during our sojourn on Earth-One. So we already have some experience with parallel worlds and the various similarities and differences that exist. Heck, Darrel even brought back the Earth-One counterpart of Martha Roberts to marry!
"Well, as you know, we weren't the only ones to discover that there were parallel worlds out there," continued Uncle Sam. "The Nazis knew it back in the 1940s, and they'd spent a lot of years tryin' ta perfect ways to travel back and forth between the universes at will. A lot of men died during the experiments, since travel in and out of this universe has always been difficult, with long periods where it was just plain impossible for anythin' living to cross the barriers, no matter what we tried!
"But the Nazis kept on tryin' to pass through the barriers, long after we'd given up," continued Uncle Sam. "And sometimes they succeeded. And a few of those times, Nazi agents managed to even return alive, bearing knowledge from another parallel Earth. Even after we defeated them Nazis and dismantled the artificial intelligence that had secretly taken over the Third Reich, the Nazis who went underground were able to continue their experiments with crossing into other worlds.
"It started gettin' easier to cross over in the years leadin' up to the Crisis, though we didn't know why back then," Uncle Sam continued. "And the Nazis managed to bring back a lot of information from a handful of other parallel worlds out there. Some of that information may have helped them conquer so much of our world so quickly in the Blitzkrieg War last fall. The Nazis always claimed that the Martians helped them, claiming that the white-skinned Martians were related to the Aryan race. But that story always rang false ta me, like just another piece of Nazi propaganda.
"So, although after the Crisis the barriers between parallel universes became impassable again, the Nazis still had all that knowledge they'd brought back with them. A lot of it was scientific, of course, but some of it was a bit more arcane. Through their travels, the Nazis learned that several objects of occult power existed on various Earths, and many of those objects had counterparts on more than one Earth. They theorized, rightly so, that our Earth might also have counterparts of these same objects that just haven't been discovered yet. And a lot of those objects are in Africa, especially in Egypt."
"That explains why, when the Italians invaded North Africa, the few German troops accompanying them tried to secure all of Egypt, though they only managed to keep part of it so far," said Hourgirl.
"Yep," said Uncle Sam. "Even long before the war the Germans were interested in the archaeological treasures of Egypt and Asia. If they haven't found the counterparts of some of these powerful occult objects already, it's only a matter of time before they either find them or discover that they just don't exist on our world."
"We've got to stop them!" cried the Ray suddenly. Everyone in the Oval Office turned to look at him, since he'd been completely quiet until now.
"Ray?" asked Black Condor. "Are you OK?"
Happy Terrill remained quiet, but everyone could tell he was tormented inside. And everyone knew why. A Nazi super-agent of the SS Ubermenschen with the same powers as he who was calling himself the Ray was, at this very moment, terrorizing the poor citizens of Occupied England. (*) Ever since Happy had heard about this impostor, he had wanted to put an end to his reign of terror, but he had continually been thwarted from doing anything about it. That had been weighing on him heavily, occupying his every other thought.
[(*) Editor's note: See Freedom Fighters: The Fight Continues, Chapter 8: Der Fuhrer's Face.]
"The Ray's right," said a new voice. "We have got to stop them."
As everyone in the room turned, they saw a very familiar-looking, tall young man with raven-black short hair who was wearing a black pilot's uniform emblazoned with the emblem of the hawk.
"Blackhawk!" cried Uncle Sam, waving at the young man. "Am I glad ta see you, son!"
"Good to see you, too, Uncle Sam," said Blackhawk, striding across the Oval Office to shake hands with Uncle Sam, President Richards, and the others.
"Two powerful forces meetin' at last!" said another man with a strong Texas accent. Vice President Chuck Wilson walked into the room and greeted everyone, then added, "When I heard young Will was gonna be stoppin' by, I invited myself here for the parley!"
Phantom Lady smiled as she gave the vice president a hug. Chuck's Texas accent had never been as pronounced back when he was a member of the Blackhawks; she suspected he had begun to really lay it on thick when he first ran for public office.
This was the first time that any of the Freedom Fighters except for Uncle Sam himself had met the new Blackhawk. He and his new Blackhawk Squadron had been kept busy fighting the Germans in the skies over England and Western Europe for the past few months. Although Blackhawk had wanted to focus first on freeing California from the Imperial Japanese invaders, the president had convinced him that the best place for the Blackhawks to make the most difference was as close to the heart of the Fourth Reich as possible. (*) The full might of the U.S. military was already working to free California, and even Billy Dunn and Bomber Jones in the Blue Tracer had recently joined the fight. (*) The president was sure that California would be free by summer, or by early fall at the latest. But until then, the Blackhawks needed to weaken the German forces behind enemy lines as much as possible to keep them from gaining any more ground.
[(*) Editor's note: See Blackhawk: The Cry of the Hawk and Feature: The Blue Tracer: Blue Traces.]
"Let me guess," said the Human Bomb, munching on a sandwich that had been brought in on a tray of snacks when Blackhawk and the vice president arrived. "Blackhawk is going to fly us in."
"Not exactly," said the president. "I've got another mission for Blackhawk that's loosely connected to your own. But the other Blackhawks will accompany you on your missions, which will be especially important when you're required to go behind enemy lines. We've got to make them look like typical Blackhawk raids rather than what they really are: airdrops to get you Freedom Fighters safely and secretly into hostile territory."
The vice president continued. "One of our deep-cover agents discovered that a high-ranking occultist by the name o' Doktor Thirteen has already gotten his grubby hands on some o' these occult artifacts, and has plans ta get more," continued the vice president, and held up a sheet of paper. "We got a list of where and when Thirteen plans to strike, so time is short!"
"How about the vice president an' me take everyone into the briefing room?" suggested Uncle Sam. "We'll give the president some privacy so he can debrief Blackhawk on his own mission. The fewer people know about it, the better, I reckon."
"Good idea, Uncle Sam," said Vice President Wilson. "C'mon, folks -- pick up that tray o' sandwiches, an' let's head on over to the briefin' room!"
After the vice president and the Freedom Fighters had all left, President Donald Richards began talking with the new Blackhawk. This was the first time the brave young pilot had been in the Oval Office since he'd first taken on the role of leader of the Blackhawks last fall after the outbreak of war.
As President Richards explained, he'd summoned Blackhawk away from his air squadron for a very dangerous mission requiring him to discard his own uniform for that of a Nazi official. DDR explained to Blackhawk that it was becoming necessary to move several foreign informants out of the enemy's lair before the new genetic-tracing technology the Germans were developing could be used to weed them out. If the Nazis were successful in developing this technology, keeping these informants out of the concentration camps would no longer be an option. America was running out of time. Soon, there would be no help whatsoever from the enemy front. An infiltration mission to evacuate those desperate ex-patriots was necessary.
Enter Will Hawk, leader of the Blackhawks, who was already quickly making the name of Blackhawk his own through a series of daring raids behind enemy lines. But although it seemed Blackhawk was prepared for anything, no amount of readiness could make for a mission like this one. Nearly everyone spoke German in this world, as a natural consequence of the Nazi Occupation in the 1960s and early 1970s. But learning to speak Deutsch fluently in a local dialect as he had over the past couple of weeks on such short notice was one of the most grueling periods of his life.
"Good luck, Blackhawk," the president said, shaking the young pilot's hand with grim sincerity. "You're going to need it."
"I know," Blackhawk replied, practicing his English in a German accent. "It is time to find out if we can finally break down their confidence the old-fashioned way. Not just winning with bullets and bombs, but by taking back what's ours -- our friends in their country."
"Our enemy's enemy," the president confirmed, "may indeed be our closest friend." And Blackhawk knew this old adage to be true in a world torn by endless war.
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Post by DocQuantum on Aug 3, 2017 10:16:59 GMT
Chapter 3: Beyond the Darkness
by Earth Elemental 99 and Doc Quantum
Berlin, Nazi Germany:
The trucks plowed in through the thick snow, moving steadily as though the streets were clear. A chill March wind blew hard, shaking the SS troops uncomfortably piled in the back of the vehicles.
Blackhawk felt cold, but not because of the weather. He could see the symbols of the Nazi supremacy creeping around him as he clutched gloved hands to his officer's uniform to stay warm. There were too many people out in the streets; clearly only the privileged could stay inside where it was warm. Will Hawk knew that his planned meeting in the Devil's Den was going to be an imperative risk, but then he'd always taken after his father, the original Blackhawk, who'd once said, "Let them see you coming. It's far better that they don't suspect a man in hiding."
The boots were a tight fit, and the jacket pinched like hell, but at least they kept him dry. The only thing he could do at this point was lean into it and wait until these trucks arrived at their destination.
***
The White House, Washington, D.C.:
President Richards awaited word from the Pentagon on the progress of Blackhawk's infiltration. When the news finally came, a sigh of momentary relief could be heard in the Oval Office.
Blackhawk, like the Unknown Soldier before him, had managed to enter Germany and impersonate a Nazi officer. So far, so good.
Now the wait would begin. Once Blackhawk could send the secret signal that his part of the mission had begun, the overall project could start in earnest. And the success of that signal device would depend on the genius of one of the president's most trusted allies, a former Freedom Fighter who'd recently retired his costume but would never stop fighting the Axis in his own way.
***
In a suburban home outside New York City, Dr. Darrel Dane and his wife Martha Roberts Dane sat together on the sofa. Darrel took his wife in his arms, wanting to kiss her; instead he pulled away, the tension of his conscience tearing him from any romantic train of thought.
"What's the matter, Darrel?" Martha asked, laying her head to his chest. "We haven't really been together since your meeting with the president last week. This wouldn't have anything to do with those people in Germany, would it?"
"As a matter of fact... yes, it does, Martha," said Darrel. "It's pained me to keep our daughter's condition a secret from most of my friends in the Freedom Fighters. Only Sam and Roy know anything about Vi's genetic disorder, and I hope to keep it that way for as long as possible."
"Blackhawk will bring back those specialists you read about, right, Darrel?" said his wife hopefully.
"We'll talk about that later, Martha," said the scientist. "For now, it's enough to say that I've got to devote all my time to science not only to support the war effort, but also to save Violet's life. Still, although I can no longer be Doll Man, I can still provide scientific support to covert operations against Nazi Germany. With the miniature device inserted into something so simple as a ballpoint pen, Blackhawk can contact us with an electronic signal that will let Washington know he's made it in -- alive and unsuspected. The rest will be up to him and the renegade German team he'll be assembling to evacuate ex-patriots from the enemy front. Now, if you'll excuse me, honey, I've got to take Vi's blood pressure and administer her medication on schedule. Could you go to the lab and check on the equipment for Blackhawk's signal?"
"I don't like going to the lab alone," Martha protested. "You're too well-known as an asset to the war effort. I swear, last week I spotted a man skulking around the back, trying to break in! For all we know, he could've been a Nazi assassin!"
"Is that any way for a former roving reporter to talk?" Darrel Dane laughed. "Please don't worry, honey. As I've told you before, I've been defending myself against dangerous crooks and Nazis for more years than I care to count, and I've secured not only our home but also the laboratory against any and all potential attacks."
Thus assured, Martha left for the lab while Darrel saw to his daughter's well-being, comforting Violet's anxiety and kissing her good night. It pained the former Freedom Fighter greatly to see his little girls's illness continue on after so many failed treatments. He knew that it was his fault that she was in this condition in the first place. It was one thing to have recklessly ingested a formula to give himself the ability to shrink himself to the size of a Doll Man, but it was quite another to have allowed Martha Roberts to use the same formula to become the second Doll Girl, or Doll Woman as she'd preferred to be called thanks to the women's liberation movement of her native Earth-One. It wasn't even for any good reason, in fact; sure, they fought a few low-level criminals together, but their exploits were more akin to dates than actual crime-fighting cases. Instead of having a normal honeymoon like other couples did after getting married, Darrel had allowed himself to be talked into letting his second wife experience the same shrinking ability that he'd enjoyed since 1939. He should have known better. He did know better. And now their baby daughter was paying the price for their recklessness in playing dice with their genetics.
It had begun when Violet was born three months premature on June 3rd, 1984, followed by numerous hospital stays since then thanks to a series of strange ailments that had mystified the doctors. While it seemed she had begun to recover by the time she was about nine months old, she had recently relapsed. It was Roy Lincoln, the Human Bomb, who was the first to diagnose his goddaughter just last month as having an unknown genetic disorder caused by her parents' DNA, which had been altered by years of shrinking and returning to normal. In reality, it was just a confirmation of something Darrel had feared since the day she was born.
Nightmares had been keeping Darrel up ever since then, terrible dreams in which Violet's body began to shrink at variable rates, causing hideous malformations. In other dreams she would end up shrinking into nothingness, lending truth to her nickname of Shrinking Violet, and Doll Man would spend endless hours, days, months, and perhaps even years searching for her throughout the microverse.
It was thanks to Darrel's worries about his daughter's inherited genetics, in fact, that he had begun to delve even more deeply into the shrinking formula that he had invented nearly fifty years earlier. He had even begun grooming a possible successor to take over for him as Doll Man, a young man with a military background who was capable of things that Darrel had only dreamed of. But his young protege, who was the nephew of the late Denny Colt, the Spirit, was far too independent to be considered a true successor, and seemed to have a destiny of his own, unrelated to either the Doll Man or the Spirit. (*) Still, Darrel had managed to achieve what he'd once thought impossible: contact with the microverse. In hindsight, maybe he should have left it well enough alone.
[(*) Editor's note: See Feature: The Clock Strikes, Chapter 3: Secret Origin of the Clock.]
The microverse was more than microscopic worlds upon worlds; it was a realm of infinite space, of infinite mass, of infinite power. By sheer luck, Darrel had tapped into it somehow with his formula back when he'd invented it, or he would have killed himself immediately the moment he ingested it. Atoms and the spaces between them were never meant to shrink beyond a certain point; for a living creature, removing the spaces between atoms was a sure way to turn oneself into a non-living, six-inch-tall statue. Darrel knew that he had to somehow eject his own mass, atom by atom, into another zone from which that mass could be perfectly retrieved when he regained his original size. Moreover, Darrel also needed to be able to use that mass to his advantage whenever he needed it, or he'd have neither the strength nor the mass to affect anything much bigger than his six-inch-tall body. He certainly couldn't have propelled himself forward at high speed or knocked out a crook with a tiny fist without the ability to control mass. The microverse was the answer, and his formula-given ability to manipulate it with his mind was the key.
Unfortunately, the microverse was also the problem. After years upon years of ejecting and retrieving his mass, Darrel's own DNA had become damaged and had mutated, having the side effect of enhancing his mental abilities in unexpected ways that he'd never fully explored, but which had been triggered during the particularly eventful trip from Earth-X to Earth-One a decade ago. (*) If it hadn't been for Uncle Sam's magic keeping him younger, he was sure he would have been headed for an early grave. Unfortunately, he had been so busy being the heroic Doll Man that he had never taken the time to figure these things out when he could. Thankfully, he had managed to fix the identified problems with the formula by the time he met his protege, but the damage had already been done not only to him, but also to Martha, and now to little Violet as well.
[(*) Editor's note: See "The Freedom Fighters," Freedom Fighters #1 (March-April, 1976).]
As it all rolled through his mind, Darrel began to get choked up about it once more. Vi had been getting better ever since shortly before the Crisis, so much so that Martha had begun feeling less and less anxious about his becoming Doll Man again. He'd even accompanied the Freedom Fighters as Doll Man on a mission to Kansas last month, just days before Vi's relapse. (*) He couldn't imagine leaving his family for any reason now. That was why he was instead doing what he could to support others who could help find a cure for his daughter's genetic disorder. His nightmares had begun to affect his waking life, too; it was all he could do from giving into despair. Martha didn't blame him -- she never blamed him despite his being the obvious cause of it all -- but sometimes he wished she would; it would be a more honest reaction, somehow, than the unnaturally optimistic, almost formal tone that they'd adopted whenever they spoke. She should be screaming at him, beating at his chest for destroying their daughter's chances of having a normal life, let alone risking her never reaching her second birthday. Instead, she cried alone in an empty room whenever she thought he couldn't hear her, while supporting his every effort to save their daughter's life. He wasn't sure he even deserved her any longer, and he knew that neither of them were prepared to lose their daughter. He needed to do something, anything, to move beyond the darkness that had enveloped him and his family.
[(*) Editor's note: See Freedom Fighters: What If?]
Some of the greatest medical specialists in the world had been brought to Berlin to treat Adolf Hitler's medical problems before he was somehow transformed from a doddering, senile old man in his late nineties into a seemingly invincible version of his more youthful self once more. Darrel knew that if Blackhawk was successful in his mission, a cure for his daughter might also be found by one or more of those specialists. And that would mean everything in the world to Darrel and Martha Dane.
A few minutes later, Martha rushed back from the lab to her husband's side and said, "I've made contact! Blackhawk is safely inside the Gestapo's home base, disguised as one of them."
"That's fantastic!" Darrel said, smiling at his wife. "Now to tell the president that he can commence the operation."
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Post by DocQuantum on Jul 8, 2020 7:58:58 GMT
Chapter 4: Dial H for HORROR
Featuring Uncle Sam & Dmitri of the Blackhawks!
Nothing exciting ever happened in Littleville, Colorado. The town of thirty-thousand citizens had been built on cattle farming, and had been enriched by nearby coal and oil deposits. But teenagers and young adults often lamented that there was absolutely nothing to do for fun around here.
High school science teacher Bob Reed, on the other hand, would have had it no other way. A scientific genius since boyhood, Bob needed no such outside stimulation to keep his mind active. He was always at work on one project or another, much to the chagrin of his wife Susan, who often joked that she considered herself a "science widow." It was difficult enough to pull him out of his basement laboratory at dinner time, but interrupting him during his peak brainstorming hours in the wee hours of early morning was nigh-impossible.
"Bob...?" she called from the top of the stairs, quietly enough to keep from awaking the children. "Bob?"
"Er... uh, yes, dear?" Bob asked absent-mindedly.
"Some men are here to see you. They're from the government."
"Oh, really?" Bob replied in that tone that Susan recognized; he hadn't heard what she'd said at all. Susan sighed as she realized she needed to come down herself. She dearly loved that man, but he annoyed her fiercely.
"Bob," she said in a firmer tone, this time placing her delicate hands around her husband's face and turning him toward her and away from the device he was taking apart, or putting together -- she couldn't tell which. "Some men from the U.S. government are here to see you."
"Oh!" Bob's eyebrows shot up, and he replaced his laboratory goggles with thick, horn-rimmed glasses. "Why didn't you tell me, Suzy?"
Susan Reed nearly laughed, but instead replied sweetly, "It must've slipped my mind."
The note of sarcasm in her tone of voice was lost on the absent-minded science teacher, who quickly rose from his workbench, ran his hands through his disheveled blond hair, and ascended the stairs, where three men were waiting for him.
"I was expecting you gentlemen weeks ago," Bob said jovially. "My work on the project is nearly complete, and I wanted to make sure 'Uncle Sam' had an opportunity to put in the first bid. Did my Suzy tell you how it could revolutionize communications? My patent pending end-to-end encryption method has commercial applications also, to be sure, but in our present time of war it could theoretically give the president himself a direct line to the troops at the frontlines, and--"
"Yes, yes, we understand," said one of the three men, a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing the same drab gray suit, tie, and hat combo as the others. "Mr. Reed, we'd like to discuss this further, of course, but there's an urgent matter we need to discuss with you. Could you come with us?"
"Oh, certainly," Bob said, and started out the door and down the front steps.
"Bob!" cried Susan. Her husband snapped his fingers and ran back up the steps to grab the coat his wife already had for him, giving her a peck on the cheek before he stepped back down the steps and trudged through the snow toward the waiting black car.
But as Susan waved at her husband, she wondered if the sudden chill she felt was from the cold or something else.
Half an hour later, she would begin to feel slightly queasy as she wondered why those three G-men hadn't bothered to show her any proof of their identities.
An hour after that, she would be worried enough to call the authorities.
***
By the time two strangely dressed, bearded men arrived on her doorstep early that afternoon, Susan Reed looked positively frightful. Mascara streamed down her face, and her eyes were red. She'd had to ask the neighbors to look after little Chris and Vicki so that she could answer the phone as soon as possible. If it was a kidnapping situation as she'd come to suspect, she needed to respond quickly. After calling the local police cajoling them into contacting the FBI on her behalf, she was told that no government agents had been sent to her home today. In fact, the Defense Department had intended to contact her husband about his invention but hadn't yet made the appointment. Worry over Bob's whereabouts foremost at the top of her mind, she couldn't recognize either of the men at her door.
"Pardon our intrusion, Mrs. Reed, but we were hopin' to speak with your husband," said the red, white, and blue-clad figure known the world over as Uncle Sam, smiling warmly at her. In respect to the lady, the white-haired, goateed symbol of American patriotism had taken off his top hat as he patiently awaited her response.
"Da, it is most urgent," said the tall man next to him with a gruff Russian accent. Dmitri Pushkin had a heavy brown beard, a mop of brown hair, and wore a black leather aviator's outfit and a black service cap emblazoned with the famous emblem of the Blackhawks.
"My -- my husband?"
"This is Bob Reed's house, isn't it, ma'am?" asked Sam.
"Yes, Bob is my husband, but--"
"Ve must speak to him quickly," said Dmitri. "It is most urgent."
"My husband..." Susan began, holding back a fresh flow of tears, "...my husband... was kidnapped!"
Uncle Sam's demeanor changed almost immediately. He was all business now. "Tell your Uncle Sam everything you can remember about the men who took him, Suzy."
She did as she was told.
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Post by lawrenceliberty on Jul 8, 2020 17:53:21 GMT
Fascinating developments. Very interested in seeing more.
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Post by johnreiter902 on Jul 9, 2020 11:01:06 GMT
This is very interesting. I like it. I assume there is not hero dial on Earth-X, so I wonder what he was working on?
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Post by DocQuantum on Jul 12, 2020 0:00:11 GMT
Bob Reed wasn't exactly sure what had happened since he left with the G-men. He kept trying to bring up his new invention, but they didn't seem interested in it at all. Instead, they kept asking him about Valley Ridge on the outskirts of town out near the chemical plant, where he'd spent many hours as a kid with his friends riding soap-box racers. It felt more like an interrogation than a conversation as they kept on asking him about what he knew about the location, and if he had ever discovered any caves in the area. Bob told them everything he could remember, but it had been many years since his boyhood, and he didn't recall ever finding any caves, though he'd heard rumors about them.
The science teacher began discussing the strong likelihood of caverns forming in Valley Ridge, since it's known to have large amounts of limestone, but they didn't seem too interested in his lecture. Instead, when they reached the Armour Chemical Company parking lot, they pulled him out of the car and marched him through the fencing behind the lot that led to the ridge. Once there, the lead G-man asked him where he thought a cavern could be found. It was only then that Bob realized the other three men were carrying shovels and pickaxes.
After he hesitated to help them, wondering what business the FBI had there, Bob passed out. He came to sometime later to find himself tied to an old wooden chair, a large goose egg forming on the back of his head. Beginning to suspect that these were not true G-men after all, Bob took a closer look at each of them.
The leader was tall and well-built, with short-cropped blond hair, and a hardened soldier's face. The second man was a bit shorter and slightly overweight, with balding brown hair and a round face wearing round spectacles; he also had an unnervingly wide smile. The third was quite thin and bald, wearing glasses over a hawklike nose and generally having a nebbish-like appearance; holding a gun on his prisoner, he kept throwing sneering glances back at him as if knowing he didn't have much time left in this world.
"What's this all about?" Bob finally asked. "Are you from the FBI at all?"
The third man snickered at this and muttered, "Dumbkopf." The other two, busy working to break through the rock in two sections of the ridge that looked promising, laughed as well.
"Nazis," said Bob. It was not a question. He should have suspected that was the case from the start, but his absent-mindedness and small-town friendly nature had worked against him.
"Dagan!" shouted the leader, who was sweating, but not nearly as much as the huffing, puffing second man. "Grab a shovel and help us!"
"Why don't we get him to do it, Hauptmann?" complained Dagan, motioning his Luger toward Bob.
"Are you a moron, Dolph?" sneered the Nazi captain. "Thirteen specifically warned us against letting that man near the artifact. It is meant for me, and me alone!"
The second man had been hacking away at the rock with a pickaxe this whole time, and suddenly a rain of rocks could be heard falling inward. "Hauptmann Krieger!" he cried in a strangely high-pitched voice. "I've punched through!"
"Is it the cavern, Toht?" shouted Krieger.
"I believe so!" replied Toht. "But there's still too much rock. Time for the heavy armory, ja?"
"Ja," said Krieger, motioning him toward a wooden crate that had apparently been taken from the trunk of the car with the shovels and pickaxes when Bob was passed out.
Within moments, the crate was pried open, revealing an advanced-looking weapon of some kind. As Toht prepared it, he laughed gleefully, sounding much like a schoolgirl. The sound of his laughter, punctuated by heavy breathing, was soon overpowered by the high-pitched whining of the device as it powered up.
"What is that?" Bob asked, his scientific curiosity piqued.
"It's a phase-cannon, dumbkopf!" said Dolph Dagan, striking Bob on the side of the head just enough to shut him up. Although the other two men were clearly German, Dagan had a distinctly American accent, even if he did pepper his speech with a few German phrases like a lot of traitorous American fifth columnists tended to do.
Krieger hovered next to Toht and gave the order to fire it into the rock surrounding the opening. Toht complied, and a bright blue beam emitted from it, carving through the rock like a hot knife through butter. Bob's eyes widened; he'd never seen anything like it. Within moments, the rock around the opening had become red-hot and molten, dripping away as the opening was enlarged enough for Krieger to step through without having to stoop.
After a few moments, the two men approached the still-smoking opening, which had cooled enough to approach without injury. Krieger strode forward as if his destiny awaited him, while the toad-like Toht cackled at the possibilities Doktor Thirteen had promised based on what he knew about the artifact.
The two Nazi agents were soon rewarded for their efforts, for a glowing object could be seen in the smoke within the cavern, just sitting there as if waiting for a certain worthy individual to discover it.
A sneering grin formed on the usual stolid Krieger's face as he saw it for himself. "It is the Dial! Doktor Thirteen was correct -- it's right where he said it would be."
The phase-cannon had done its work too well, for there was a great deal of molten rock surrounding the area where the Dial had been found, and it had not cooled as quickly as the rock exposed to the outer air.
"Toht, retrieve the so-called H-Dial," instructed Krieger. "I would like to see it in the light of day."
"Ja, Hauptmann," cackled Toht, grinning and sweating profusely as he reached a trembling hand toward the smoking artifact, which resembled a rotary telephone dial, albeit one inscribed with strange, otherworldly symbols. He grasped it firmly with his right hand, but seemed unable to let go of it as he raised it up. Instead, an agonizing scream emitted from his mouth as the Dial continued to heat up, burning his skin.
Krieger had immediately backed off a few feet, horrified as Toht's hand and arm erupted into flame. But he did not move quickly enough, as the flames quickly spread and engulfed Toht completely.
A moment later, the cavern exploded, throwing the battered body of Krieger several feet out of the opening. Within the cavern, Toht himself was consumed by a strange fire that melted the flesh from his bones. His horrid screams increased in excruciating intensity until they suddenly died out, leaving only a brief echo, the only evidence he had ever visited Valley Ridge.
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Post by jonclark on Jul 12, 2020 5:10:57 GMT
Ok, the Earth 1 dial worked for people other than Robby even when he was its main user. And Daffy Dagan as able to become a villain using the dial. I'm assuming the Earth X dial wasn't worried about being used for evil, so was it reacting to the pulse-cannon being fired "at it"?
Oh and is Dolph the Earth X Daffy Dagan counterpart?
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Post by DocQuantum on Jul 12, 2020 5:18:49 GMT
Yeah, I figure the explosion/strange fire was an automatic defense system when being attacked by something that might damage the H-Dial, if not destroy it. I'm not sure if we ever saw the Earth-1 H-Dial being attacked with an intensely powerful beam, but that's where artistic license comes into play.
You're right about Dagan. Anyone recognize the other two?
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Post by johnreiter902 on Jul 12, 2020 19:43:27 GMT
Captain Krieger is clearly the Earth-X counterpart of Captain Nazi, I'm not sure about Toht.
As far as I know, we have never seen the original H Dial attacked with an energy weapon before, so the defense mechanism makes sense.
With the cavern destroyed, I guess nobody will get the H Dial on Earth-X. Unless. . . was Bob trapped inside the cave?
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Post by DocQuantum on Jul 12, 2020 21:29:25 GMT
Toht had his hand burned by an artifact and then his face melted off, just like his counterpart did in the movie: Raiders of the Lost Ark.
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Post by DocQuantum on Jul 17, 2020 3:43:06 GMT
Chapter 5: The Horror and the Unknown
“Aagh!" cried Dolph Dagan, trying desperately to brush away the dust and dirt from his face, but to no avail. "I'm blind! I cannot see a thing!"
The force of the explosion from the cavern had been directed outward, hurtling Hauptmann Krieger forcibly through the narrow opening, along with rock, dirt, and debris. Moments earlier, Dagan had been creeping closer and closer in order to see what was happening in the cavern, and thus had been staring at the strange explosion that had temporarily blinded him. Rock and debris had also struck him, injuring him in several places, including his right hand.
"Free me," said Bob Reed. "I'll help you."
Dagan thrust his left arm up and started trying to point his Luger in Reed's direction with his shaky left hand, but it was no use. He was completely helpless. "Give me your word!" shouted Dagan. "Give me your word that you won't run, and I will untie you."
"I promise," said Bob. "I won't run. And I won't fight you." Because, he thought to himself, I want to see what happened in that cavern as much as you do.
Dagan was reluctant, but knew he was in a bad spot. The explosion would surely bring others there; he had to either secure the artifact or destroy it before it was lost to the Fatherland, assuming it was still intact after that explosion. With Bob's help, Dagan made his way back to where the high school teacher was tied up, and untied him, keeping his gun to his back the whole time.
With Dagan instructing him, Bob tried to revive Krieger, but the Nazi captain was completely unconscious, though still alive. He then procured a typewritten note in the pocket of Krieger's suit, and headed for the opening of the cavern. Far from causing a complete collapse, the explosion had made the cavern easier to access, and the artifact was clearly visible from the entrance.
Bob slowly helped Dagan across the rubble-strewn cavern floor until they reached the very spot where Toht had died, leaving behind only a shattered skull and a few charred bones. But the artifact, which Dagan called the H-Dial, still seemed intact, if a bit battered-looking and dusty.
"Now, don't touch it!" warned Dagan. "Just tell me what to do -- tell me how to use the verdammt thing."
Bob shook his head in confusion as he tried to read the typewritten note. "This doesn't make any sense," he muttered to himself. "According to this note, all you need to do is dial a certain sequence of letters -- or alien symbols equivalent to our letters -- and it will transform a person, giving them great power. It's ridiculous!"
"Just tell me which letter to dial first," said Dagan.
"How can I tell you which one, if you can't see them?" asked Bob.
"Then put my finger where it's supposed to go, dummkopf!"
"Okay, but I don't see how I can do that without touching it. Your hand looks broken. I--"
"Just help me, and I'll do the rest!"
"All right, if you say so," replied Bob, placing Dagan's bony index finger into a ring containing an alien symbol, then helped him push the ring in a circular motion around the dial, which was now cool to the touch. He did his best to ignore Dagan's slight moans; it was obvious the bones in his hand were broken, and he couldn't move his fingers without feeling incredible pain. His only hope was to keep helping this lunatic with his fool's errand until someone else could come rescue him and bring him back to his family.
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Post by johnreiter902 on Jul 17, 2020 16:28:31 GMT
Oh no Robby!! If only he belived that this was going to work. He could trick Dagan, and then use the dial himself.
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Post by DocQuantum on Jul 19, 2020 17:38:38 GMT
Uncle Sam had begun to think they were too late by the time they learned about the explosion out at Valley Ridge near the industrial park on the outskirts of town. Dmitri of the Blackhawks had been provided to him as his pilot, since time was of the essence, and the list Vice President Wilson had given to them was time-sensitive. A German occultist called Doktor Thirteen had already sent his agents to certain locations around the world to procure artifacts of power that had the potential to help the Axis regain complete dominion over the world. Neither the Freedom Fighters nor the Blackhawks could allow that to happen.
"Hokey smokes, vhat are you worried for, Comrade Samuel?" Dmitri bellowed jovially as he piloted the Blackhawk jet toward Valley Ridge. "Ve vill get there in time."
Uncle Sam, sitting in the jump seat behind the pilot, focused his keen eyesight on the ground below, looking for something, anything that might tip them off where to land.
"And even if ve do not, my friend," continued Dmitri, "ve vill fight the Hun to our dying breath, yes?"
Sam could only nod his head in reply, unable to muster up the same kind of enthusiasm for battle as his Russian ally. What was wrong with him? Why was he so tired lately?
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Post by johnreiter902 on Jul 20, 2020 20:28:27 GMT
Sounds like America's spirit is waning. That's a very worrying sign. I hope this is the result of some sort of magical attack, and not an indication that America is feeling defeated.
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