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Post by lee on Nov 13, 2018 22:29:06 GMT
Young Justice
Book One
Part 1
Gotham City--
Matt Jerrold felt as though opposing armies of samurai butterflies were in a heated battle in the pit of his stomach as he stepped off the bus in front of Gotham High. The first day of school was usually nerve-wracking enough, but when your first day coincides with everyone else’s returning from Christmas break, well, it was something Matt wasn’t looking forward to.
“Out of the way, Nerd-boy.” These few words were the only warning that Gotham’s newest freshman received before he felt a large, beefy hand connect with the center of his back and shove.
While Matt wasn’t the most graceful of teenage boys, he could have easily recovered his balance had it not been for the wet, slush covered series of landings that led up to the doors of the high school. Instead, the end result of the shove was wet, scattered notebook paper and skinned, bleeding palms that had only just prevented his face scraping the concrete. His landing did send slush splashing into his face, however.
“Maybe you should learn to walk before you try to fly,” the same voice said, laughing.
Matt looked up, doing his best to ignore the pain in his hands and keep the tears from forming in his eyes. If he cried now, the next three-and-a-half years would be murder.
His tormentor, a tall, athletic-looking boy wearing a letterman jacket, let his bottom lip protrude farther than normal and forced it to quiver. “Is the little nerd-boy going to cry? I’d better use this loose paper to cross the puddle of tears so I don’t get my feet wet.”
Matt just turned his attention back to his hands. He heard the athlete and his friends laughing as they walked away. When he looked back up, there were several students standing around, but no one offered any assistance. He tried to find a dry spot on his jacket sleeve to wipe his face off, then began to gather up his scattered, ruined, paper, most of it covered in either his blood, or his attackers footprints. He climbed to his feet and walked to the nearest garbage can.
“Welcome to Gotham High, loser,” he muttered to himself.
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Post by lee on Nov 13, 2018 22:30:56 GMT
Part 2
Since most of the administration offices were on the first floor, Matt had little trouble finding the guidance counselor’s office. The student assistant, a slightly overweight but still cute brunette junior, informed him that the counselor, Mrs. Ludlow, was running late due to car trouble, and that he should have a seat.
As Matt started to turn away from the desk, the girl noticed the blood on his hands.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I…fell,” Matt told her.
The girl noticed the slight pause. Probably with a little help, she thought. “Hang on,” she said. “We’ve got a first aid kit here somewhere. Ah, here it is.”
As the girl took care of his scrapes, Matt smiled to himself. Perhaps this place isn’t as bad as he first thought.
Once she had him patched up, Matt took a seat. He sat through all three morning bells--the starting bell, the tardy bell, and the first period bell--waiting for Mrs. Ludlow.
“I will turn you inside out and bat your guts down the hall if you don’t get to class right now.”
Matt’s eyes widened at the comment coming from the hall. He looked at the student assistant who gave him a wink and a grin.
“Here comes Mrs. Ludlow now,” the girl said.
A few seconds later, a woman not much taller than five foot entered the outer office. Her brown hair was done up in a bun and she wore a gray pantsuit that made her frame appear a bit larger than it was. She was carrying a brown leather briefcase in one hand and a Styrofoam coffee cup in the other.
“Morning, Linda,” she said.
“Good morning, Mrs. Ludlow,” the girl replied.
The woman glanced over at her first visitor of the day. “You must be Matthew.”
Matt nodded as he stood. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Give me a couple of minutes and then I’ll be ready for you.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Matt repeated.
Both Mrs. Ludlow and Linda smiled at the boy’s politeness. Matt hoped he didn’t blush.
True to her word, Mrs. Ludlow had Linda show him in just as two minutes had passed. She motioned for him to take a seat.
“So, Matthew. Or do you prefer Matt?” she asked.
“Matt is fine, Ma’am,” he replied.
“Matt it is, then.” Mrs. Ludlow opened a file. “Based on the records I received from your old school, I took the liberty of fixing up a schedule for you. I just wanted to go over it with you before we get you to class.”
As he looked at his copy of his schedule, Matt chewed his bottom lip.
“Problem with the schedule?” the woman asked.
“Not really,” Matt replied. “It’s just that you have me in algebra.”
“I’ve seen your math test scores from your old school, and I really believe you could handle algebra,” Mrs. Ludlow told him. “Based on the scores I saw, you have shown the potential to really excel in both math and science.”
Matt couldn’t help but smile. This was the first time anyone had mentioned him having the potential to do anything. “If you think so,” he said.
“I do,” Mrs. Ludlow assured him. “The only drawback is your gym class.”
“Gym class?” Matt scanned further down the sheet until he came to his seventh period class.
“By putting you in algebra class, I had to give you gym for your final class. The good thing about that is that you don’t have to worry about showering afterwards, but it is a little tougher than most of the other classes. Seventh period is when most of the athletes are in there.”
The color drained from Matt’s face, and the samurai butterflies resumed their battle.
“Is there a problem?” the counselor asked.
“I guess not,” Matt said.
“Alright, then,” Mrs. Ludlow said, as she stood. “Let’s get you a locker, and then I’ll take you to your first class.”
As they left the inner office, Linda smiled at Matt. “Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks,” Matt replied, then mentally added, “I’ll need it.”
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Post by lee on Nov 13, 2018 22:31:46 GMT
Part 3
“It’s Super Nerd-boy!”
Matt immediately recognized the voice. He was hoping that since he didn’t have gym clothes with him on his first day of school, he would avoid this confrontation for at least another twenty-four hours. He looked up from where he sat on the bleachers, groaning inwardly, and saw his early morning tormentor and his friends.
“Hey, Nerd-boy,” the ringleader said, accompanied by the chuckles of his friends. “You shouldn’t attempt to fly like that without a cape.”
“Maybe we should get him a cape,” one of the other guys suggested.
“Yeah,” the leader said, “maybe we should.” He nodded to the one who made the suggestion and the boy left the gym.
A minute later, the boy returned carrying a towel that did not look to be at its cleanest and began to wipe the sweat from under his arms. Amid howls of laughter, the others did the same before handing it to their leader. He held it up to his nose and winced in disgust.
“Whew,” he said, “that is one rank cape. Grab his arms boys.”
It took no effort for the athletes to overpower Matt and hold him still while the blond tied the towel around his neck. Before the others let the new freshman go, one of them grabbed the towel and pulled it up over Matt’s head.
Matt tried his best to shake free, but all his best did was dislodge the towel from his head, and bring renewed laughter to the lips of his tormentors.
Without warning, however, the laughter turned to confusion when the ringleader’s legs buckled beneath him. He hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.
All but one of the athletes released Matt and turned to check on their friend. What they saw made their eyes widen and their mouths drop open.
A second freshman stood over the fallen blond with his leg drawn back and aimed at the boy’s midsection.
“Let him go,” the newcomer said, “or I take a couple practice punts.” When the boys didn’t move, the freshman shifted his aim a little lower.
“Let him go,” the prone athlete said, suddenly aware that it wasn’t his stomach now in danger.
The boy holding Matt released him and he scrambled to move out of anyone else’s reach. In the process, the towel came loose and fell across the ringleader’s face.
Before the upperclassmen could retaliate, an older man in sweats approached the scene. He looked at the athletes, and then at the freshmen, and smiled. “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah,” Matt’s rescuer said. “Somebody left the cage unlocked and these gorillas got loose.”
Matt couldn’t believe his ears, and, apparently, neither could anyone else. The boy was only slightly bigger than Matt, but in no way was he as big as the athletes. This difference in size, however, didn’t seem to bother him in the least.
“Chris,” the man said, addressing the blond, “you and the boys had better hit the showers.”
“Okay, Coach,” Chris reluctantly responded.
As he and the others started to walk away, the coach stopped him and spoke.
“And Chris…”
“Yeah, Coach?”
“All of this,” he indicated the situation, “it all ends here.”
Grudgingly, the athletes walked off. The coach then turned his attention to the other boy. “You must be Matt,” the man said. “Make sure you bring your gym clothes tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sir,” Matt replied.
The coach turned his attention to the other boy. “Where did you learn that takedown, Seth?”
“I’ve got older cousins,” was all Seth said.
“Have you ever considered going out for the wrestling team?” the coach asked.
“I don’t think so.”
The coach smiled. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” He turned to go. “Oh, you might want to watch your backs. Despite what I told them, Chris and the boys aren’t going to let getting cut down to size by freshmen pass without retaliation of some sort.”
“I’ll carry extra bananas,” Seth said.
The coach just shook his head and walked off, smiling. “Those boys don’t know what they’ve gotten themselves into,” he said to himself. He paused for a moment and realized that he didn’t know which boys to feel sorry for.
Once they were alone, Matt stuck out his hand. “You realize that we just joined the ranks of dead men walking.”
“Ah, don’t worry about those morons,” Seth said, as he shook Matt’s hand. “Just yell ‘go long’ and act like you are going to throw something; those idiots will scramble like it’s a Hail Mary.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Matt said, grinning. “You know how to defend yourself. I’m Matt, by the way.”
“I heard,” Seth said. “My name’s Seth.”
Matt laughed. “I heard.”
“We’d better get our stuff together,” Seth said. “The bus drivers here don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Do you usually change before you head home?” Matt asked “Mrs. Ludlow told me that one of the good things about gym last period is that we don’t have to shower before we leave.”
“I change,” Seth replied. “Walking to the bus in sweats could get very embarrassing if one of the older guys decides to come up behind you and jerk them down.”
“Good to know.”
“Let me change, then we can head to the bus.”
A few minutes later, the two boys were headed towards their respective buses.
“Later,” Seth said, as he walked past Matt’s bus and headed towards the one that carried him home.
“See you tomorrow,” Matt said. “And thanks.”
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Post by lee on Nov 13, 2018 22:33:20 GMT
Part 4
Gotham’s Chinatown District--
Tommy Shih paid no attention to the black leather jacket being offered to him, and, instead, pushed past the boys that blocked his way.
“You’re making a big mistake, Tommy,” one of the boys said. “If you aren’t a Dragon, then you become a statistic.”
“I’m already a dragon, moron,” Tommy said, as stopped and turned around. “It’s our school mascot, remember?”
“But, you’re not a Green Dragon.” The boy took a step towards Tommy. “Just because you know a little kung-fu, don’t think it can keep us from beating the crap out of you. We’ve got you outnumbered ten-to-one.”
Tommy took the next step; he was directly in front of the speaker. “If you were sure of that, Jimmy, you would have already done something.”
“Is there a problem here?”
With the exception of Tommy, whose eyes never left his antagonist, everyone looked and saw Officer Swanson approaching.
While the Green Dragons was one of Chinatown’s more prominent street gangs, they had been smart enough to keep their activities out of the police’s direct line of sight. Aside from the occasional gang fight, the Green Dragons had tried to remain as low key as possible. The last time the gang had found itself in the limelight was in the late thirties when they had a run-in with Batman. With the Caped Crusader gone, many of the younger members were starting to get bolder, but still hadn’t gotten up the nerve to run as rampant as they wanted. It was rumored that they were behind several crimes, but the only evidence that could link them to anything was circumstantial.
“No problem here, Officer,” Frankie Po said, as he handed the jacket to one of the other boys. “We were just extending our old pal Tommy an invitation to join our club.”
“And it appears he said no, correct?” Officer Swanson asked.
“He’s going to think about it,” Jimmy replied. “Aren’t you Tommy? Maybe you want to talk it over with Maggie first. She might be able to convince you.”
Both Tommy and Officer Swanson knew that Jimmy’s comment was a thinly disguised threat, but neither of them said anything.
“Well, Officer,” Frankie said, “we’ve got to be going now. You two have a nice day.” without another word, the Green Dragons walked away.
“Everything alright, Tommy?” Officer Swanson asked, once they were alone.
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “I’d better head over to Maggie’s though, and let her know to keep an eye out for the Dragons.”
“If you need any help,” the policeman said, “don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks,” Tommy said, “but I can handle the Dragons.”
“I’ll still keep an eye on her dad’s place,” Officer Swanson said.
“I appreciate that.”
* * * * *
Tommy arrived at The Golden Palace, the restaurant owned by Maggie’s parents, a few minutes later. He cut down the alley and went in through the kitchen down. Maggie’s dad, Tien Kwok, looked up from where he was chopping vegetables and smiled at the boy.
“If you are looking for Maggie, she’s upstairs,” the man said, referring to the apartment his family owned above the restaurant.
“Thank you,” Tommy said.
“I’ve got a couple deliveries that need to be made,” Tien said, “if you are interested.”
“Sure,” Tommy replied. I just need to talk to Maggie real quick. The Green Dragons want me to join their gang, and they said they would have Maggie convince me.”
Tien slammed his knife down hard enough to take a large chunk out of his table. “If they come around here, I’ll make them regret it.”
“Don’t worry about them,” Tommy said. “If they come messing around here, I’ll take care of them. Besides, Officer Swanson said he’d keep an eye on your place.”
Somehow, Tien felt reassured by Tommy’s words. He had known the boy long enough to know that he was becoming a very responsible young man.
“I’ll be back down in a couple of minutes,” Tommy told him, as he walked over to a door that led to the stairs leading to the apartment.
“Okay,” Tien replied. “I’ll have the deliveries ready when you come back down.”
Tommy climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. After a couple of seconds, the door opened and an slender girl stood in the opening smiling at him. Normally, he would have commented on her outfit--today it was an over-sized black sweater with a primary color diamond pattern, stone-washed light blue jeans, red leg warmers, and black socks--but he said nothing.
“Aren’t you afraid your boss will get upset since you’re up here hitting on his daughter instead of being down there making deliveries?” Maggie asked, as she stepped aside so he could enter.
“He knows where I am,” Tommy replied, without smiling.
Maggie knew something was up. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it the Dragons again?”
Tommy nodded. “They said that if I wouldn’t join them, they would get you to convince me. Maggie, promise me that you will watch out. I don’t want to see you or your family hurt because of me.”
“I’ll be careful,” Maggie promised.
“A lot of people have been careful around the Dragons, but it hasn’t kept them out of the hospital,” the boy replied. When he saw the expression on Maggie’s face, he apologized. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Maggie knew that Tommy was just trying to get a point across, and hadn’t intended to scare her, so she tried to smile. “See,” she said, “you are up here trying to hit on me.”
Tommy started to smile. “Just promise me that you’ll be careful.”
“I promise,” Maggie said, as she leaned towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you going to the game next week?” she asked.
“Against Gotham High? I wouldn’t miss it,” Tommy said. “Plus, I love watching my girl bounce around in her cheerleading outfit. I just need to tell your dad that I need off on Friday.”
“If you don’t get back downstairs, he might not let you off. You know how he feels about people who don’t show up for work,” Maggie said. “And who said I was your girl?”
Tommy grabbed her and gave her a kiss, then turned and left the apartment. “Oh, you are,” he said, as he pulled the door closed behind him.
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Post by lee on Nov 13, 2018 22:34:38 GMT
Part 5
“How was your first day of school, Honey?”
“Where are you?” Matt asked, his voice loud enough for his mother to hear, wherever she was.
“Upstairs, going through some boxes.”
Matt tossed his backpack on the couch and headed upstairs. He found his mother, a still somewhat attractive blonde in her early forties, sitting cross-legged in the floor of the spare bedroom. “Is it too late to go to military school?” he asked, as he entered.
“Was your day that bad?”
Matt proceeded to tell his mother everything that had happened, from the time he got off the bus that morning until he got back on it that evening.
“Sounds like you made a friend,” was all she said, as she slid one box aside and opened another.
The teenager rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It might just be the shortest friendship on record if those jocks get a hold of us.”
His mother laughed. “So, tell me more about this algebra class the counselor put you in.”
“For some reason, she seems to think I can handle it,” Matt said. “I’m not sure, but I told her I’d give it a try.”
“Good for you.” His mother suddenly looked up, as if she had just remembered something. “I saw something in one of these boxes that you might find interesting.”
“What would I find interesting in a box of old junk?” he asked, with a grin.
“It was some old notebooks that belonged to your dad’s uncle,” Mom said. “Apparently, he was a scientist of some sort back in the forties.”
“Dad never mentioned an uncle that was a scientist,” Matt said.
“Well, from what I could gather, he was the black sheep of the family,” she said. “He ended up going to prison for a while. He died shortly after being released.”
“Cool,” Matt said. When his mom gave him one of “those” looks, Matt hemmed and hawed around before adding, “I mean the part about him being a scientist, not the prison and dying stuff.”
“Ah, here we go,” Mom said, letting him off the hook. She fished three notebooks out of the box and handed them to her son.
The notebooks were actually over-sized notepads with age-yellowed pages. Matt gently opened one of them and glanced through it. He shook his head as he read.
“I think I might end up dropping that algebra class,” he said. “This stuff might as well be Greek.”
“No one expects you to figure it out to start with.” Mom said. “We’ll give it a week or two before I have you explain those to me.”
“Yeah,” Matt said, “I’ll be sure to do that.”
His mother gave him a smile. “Got any homework?”
“Naw. The teachers were merciful to me since it was my first day.”
“Then, run downstairs and see if the chicken has thawed yet,” Mom said. “Your dad called and said he’d be a few minutes late.”
Dad’s few minutes turned out to be almost a half an hour. Matt and his mother heard him pull up and were putting the food on the table when he came through the front door.
“Sorry,” he said, as he kissed his wife. “We had a surprise safety inspection this afternoon, and the inspector and I got to talking. Turns out he and I went to the same high school back in Toledo, a couple of years apart, of course.”
“What a coincidence,” Mom said. She forgave him, and the tone of her voice let him know it.
“Speaking of school,” Dad said, “how was your first day, Matt?”
“Almost as fun as that time I fell out of the tree,” Matt said.
“Really?” Dad asked. “That fun?”
“I’ll tell you about it later, Dear,” Mom said. “It was so horrible that he probably couldn’t bear to repeat it.”
Dad grinned. “Okay.”
“Hey, Dad,” Matt said. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure thing, Sport.”
“Why haven’t you ever said anything about your uncle?”
The man looked at his wife, then at his son. “What brought this up?” He wasn’t upset over the question, just surprised.
“We found his old notebooks in some old boxes earlier,” Mom said, “so I gave them to Matt to look over. His guidance counselor has him in an algebra class.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Dad said. “After we eat, if you are really interested, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Deal,” Matt said, excited.
After dinner, Matt and his parents retired to the living room where they settled in for an evening of family history.
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:43:10 GMT
Part 6
Gotham’s harbor district--
“I dunno about this.” The voice was rough and uneducated.
“What do you mean?” a second voice asked. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No. That ain’t what I mean,” the first speaker replied.
“Spill it, then.”
“Don’t think I’m doubtin’ the boss or anything,” the first man said, “but this doesn’t seem like his style.”
“And what exactly is my style?”
Both men froze as the third voice spoke out of the darkness. They turned to find themselves face to face with the metallic scowl of a man in an iron mask.
“Buh…buh…boss. I didn’t mean nuthin’…” the first man said.
“Why don’t you tell us what you meant?” the newcomer said. “Tell us exactly what you think Iron-Hat Ferris’ style is, Delly.”
Delly held his arms out. After a couple of stuttering starts, the man spoke slowly. “I thought you would have something’ fancier planned than knockin’ over a high school basketball game. “Why, Boss?”
The eyes behind the mask narrowed for a moment, then widened in delight. Iron-Hat Ferris put his arms around the shoulders of the two men.
“That is a legitimate question,” he said, “so, I’ll explain it to you.” His voice lowered and was suddenly filled with menace. “But, listen close to what I say because it will not be repeated…by anyone.”
Both men nodded, fully aware of the unspoken threat.
“Next Friday night, there are going to be several basketball games in Gotham, and most of these games are between Gotham’s youngest and brightest. That means there will be a lot of money staying in the city. Plus, by going after the gate take at the basketball games, I will be staying beneath the radar of the boys and girls in the colorful union suits that call Gotham home.”
The second man had a thought. “What about that bunch of kids that hang around with the Justice Society? I’d almost bet that some of them go to school in Gotham; they could be a problem.”
“You’ve got a good point,” Iron-Hat said, “but, don’t worry about them. I’ve got a…friend…who’s got a few tricks up his sleeve to help handle the kids, or anyone else who might decide take in a game and interfere. Plus, the crates that you two should be unloading hold a big surprise this town won’t soon forget.”
The two men looked at each other and grinned. Their boss had planned for everything.
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:44:20 GMT
Part 7
Aside from the occasional gob of unidentifiable goo stuck on his locker handle, and the constant menacing looks from half of the football team, Matt’s first week of school went well. He was surprised to discover that algebra wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be. Although not as great as mixing chocolate and peanut butter, he had to admit that numbers and letters worked well together.
Matt was also surprised to learn that Linda, Mrs. Ludlow’s first period assistant, was in his class. “How’s your hand?” she had asked during his first day in class. His response of “fine” hadn’t satisfied her, so she had him take a seat and peeked under the bandage herself. He would have been content to occupy the seat for the entire period, but an extremely chatty red-head materialized and, in the middle of a detailed description of her Christmas trip to visit her newborn niece in Keystone City, asked him who he was and why he was in her seat. With a mumbled apology to the newcomer, Matt moved to an empty seat two rows back and one row to the left. “How’s your hand?” however, became Linda’s official algebra greeting to him the rest of the week. Matt also discovered that it wouldn’t be hard to fall for a girl that showed him that much attention.
His first week of gym class also proved to be a learning experience for him. Being in a class with athletes meant that he was expected to keep up with their regimen, and Matt was certain they kept up the pace just for Seth and himself. What they weren’t prepared for was that in most instances involving speed or agility, Seth seemed to be the one setting the pace.
“You going to the basketball game next week?” Seth asked, Friday afternoon during warm-up exercises. “I know how fond you are of our school’s athletes.”
“I didn’t figure you to be such a big athletic supporter,” Matt replied.
“Jerk,” Seth said, laughing at his friend.
“Who are we playing?” Matt asked.
“Gotham East,” Seth said. “They’re calling it the dragon hunt.”
“I take it this will be a big game,” Matt said.
“I take it you’ve been living under a rock,” Seth said. “And who the heck says “I take it” anyway? Weirdo.”
The two boys laughed until the coach called them down.
“Next Friday night,” Seth said, as they began to do laps around the gym, “the Knights are taking on the Dragons, live, on this very court. You gotta come.”
Matt thought for a second. “I’ll ask my parents, but they probably won’t care.”
“Good,” Seth said, as he picked up the pace. “Now, if you will excuse me, I need to find out what the hold up is at the front of this line.”
“Way to antagonize,” Matt said, as Seth began to weave his way among the other students.
* * * * *
Matt’s parents thought the basketball game was a great idea.
“You should have invited Seth over to hang out this weekend,” Mom had told him.
“I thought about it,” Matt said, “but I want to make a copy of Uncle Garner’s notebooks. I don’t want the originals to get torn up. Besides, he said something about helping his cousin out at the gym.”
“The gym?” Dad asked.
“Grant’s Gym,” Matt said. “His cousin works there and Seth helps him out sometimes cleaning the place.”
“Oh, okay,” Dad said. “Good thinking about copying the notebooks, but it doesn’t sound like a very fun weekend.”
“A lot of it looks like he was trying to figure something out, so I’m only going to copy the stuff he seemed sure of.”
“Well,” Mom said, “don’t let it consume your whole weekend.”
Matt smiled. “I’ll try not to.”
After dinner, Matt got his great-uncle’s notebooks and an empty notebook of his own and stretched out in the floor in front of the television. He was flipping through the channels, pausing just long enough on each to assure himself that it wasn’t of interest to him, when he came across a documentary on the public broadcasting station by Benjamin Kerns. It was focusing on the All-Star Squadron of the 1940s and the many heroes that made up the group. At the moment, Johnny Quick was the hero in question.
Matt put his pencil down as newly-restored newsreels showed the speedster during several of his numerous solo adventures. The voice in the background belonged to Tubby Watts, one-time cameraman and now partner of John Chambers, a famed documentary director in his own right.
“We captured Johnny Quick, or, at least, his blurred image, on film numerous times,” Tubby was saying. “As often as not, it appeared that he relied on his brain as much as his speed to bring criminals to justice. Although he wasn’t looked on as the smartest, or most rational, of the group most of the time, his solo adventures proved that he wasn’t given the credit he deserved.
“Fortunately, Johnny, and the rest of the All-Star Squadron, used their intelligence for the betterment, or, at least, the protection of mankind. The temptation to use your knowledge for selfish purposes must have been great indeed. Every costumed hero seemed to have at least one foe who was either “Dr. This” or “Professor That.” Here, I was able to document on film Johnny Quick’s capture of Professor Garner Jerrold.”
Matt immediately yelled for his parents.
“So many of these learned men could have made a fortune using their inventions to help mankind, probably more than they ever got to keep when they turned to a life of crime.”
By the time his parents arrived in the living room, Liberty Belle was talking about her marriage to the speedster. Matt, however, was paying the still-attractive blonde no mind. All of his attention was focused on the notebooks on the floor in front of him.
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:45:33 GMT
Part 8
Tommy Shih paused in cleaning up the purposely-scattered garbage and broken glass from the alley behind the Golden Palace and looked at the restaurant’s back wall. A large, green Chinese symbol representing the dragon covered most of the door and a section of the wall.
“It looks like someone was not happy with the service.”
The voice was hollow, lifeless, and Chinese, but it held a hint of sarcastic humor. Tommy knew when he turned around what he would see.
An elderly man standing a few inches off the ground and surrounded by a faint green glow was looking at him, his hands clasped behind his back.
“It isn’t the restaurant they aren’t happy with, Grandpa,” Tommy said, “it’s me.”
The slightly translucent old man nodded. “Are your martial arts adequate enough to protect you and yours should things escalate?”
Tommy stood up straight. “Yes, I believe so.”
Before he could react, a sword appeared in the old man’s hand, which he then plunged into the boy’s chest.
Tommy cried out in pain and surprise, then quickly realized that there was no pain. “Grandpa?!” he shouted. “What the crap are you doing?”
The ghost smiled. “Proving that your martial arts are not adequate enough to protect anyone.”
“And you had to run a sword through my chest to prove that?”
“Yes.”
“Then, why am I not dead?”
“Because,” Grandfather said, “you are a just young man.”
Tommy gave his grandfather a questioning look as the old man withdrew the sword and allowed it to vanish. “And what if I hadn’t been just?”
The ghost smiled again. “Then, you would be dead.”
The boy gulped, and as he did so, his grandfather disappeared.
“Where’d you go?” Tommy asked, as he absentmindedly began rubbing his chest.
“We’re right here,” a voice said behind him, a split second before a foot slammed into the back of his knee.
Tommy was able to keep his head from bouncing off the bricks, but the fall still jarred the devil out of him.. He knew that to lie there would mean a severe beating, so he tried to roll away from his attackers. Two feet were suddenly there, pinning him on his back. He looked up into the face of Green Dragons leering down at him.
“Did you miss us?” one of the boys asked.
Tommy’s mind was racing. To lie there meant he would be beaten; of course, the minute he tried to move, he would also be beaten. He needed a distraction.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he said.
“Huh?” another boy asked. “We’re the only ones here.” Even knowing that, he couldn’t resist looking around.
“No,” Tommy said. “You’re not.” His comment elicited a boot to the ribs, but he didn’t give them the satisfaction of crying out.
“Kick him again,” the third boy said. “Show him it’s not nice to lie to the Dragons.”
“Which is more important?”
The gang members looked around, startled.
“Justice, or revenge?”
The disembodied voice was to much for the Green Dragons to handle, so they left Tommy laying and fled the alley.
“Grandpa?” Tommy asked, as he climbed to his feet.
“You never answered the question,” the ghostly old man said, as he appeared in front of his grandson.
“I thought that was just to scare…” Tommy began.
“Answer the question.” This time, the old man’s voice was deeper, more forceful, than what the boy had grown used to hearing since his grandfather’s ghost first appeared to him three years ago on his thirteenth birthday.
“Justice,” Tommy said.
The ghost spoke again, this time his voice as normal as it could be. “And if I told you that your girlfriend had just been raped and killed, which would be more important?”
A lump formed in the boy’s throat and tears filled his eyes. “Muh…Maggie,” he whispered.
“And that her parents had been killed as well?” Grandpa continued.
Tommy was quiet, except for his sobs, for almost a minute. He focused in on the ghost and then spoke. “As much as I want to say revenge,” his voice was low, “I know that it is not mine to take. I would be no better than them if I chose revenge over justice.”
His grandfather smiled. “You answered well.”
All Tommy could do was look at him and sob, so the ghost continued.
“Years ago, I had to make the same decision,” he said. “Although when it was put to me, these tragedies were more than just scenarios.” He paused to let his words sink in.
“Scenarios?” Tommy blinked the tears away; it felt like he was coming out of a dream. “Then, Maggie…?”
“She’s alive,” Grandpa said, his voice almost tender, “and so is her family.”
Tommy started to get upset, then realized exactly what the ghost was saying. “Oh, Grandpa. What happened to you?”
“I lost most of my family during the Japanese occupation of Nanjing just before the start of the second world war. I was in peril of being killed myself until Kuan Ti intervened and gave me the tools to dispense justice.”
“The sword?” Tommy asked, wiping his final tears away with his sleeve.
“Two swords,” the ghost replied, “among other things.”
“I’ll bet you killed a lot of Japanese,” Tommy said.
“Not as many as you think,” Grandpa said. “Even among the occupiers, there were still a few just men. When I encountered such men, and my swords would do them no harm, I would beg their forgiveness and go my way.”
“They would let you walk away?”
“Most of the times,” the ghost said, “they would be so surprised that they wouldn’t know what to do.”
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” Tommy confessed. “Why did you let me think the worst about Maggie and her family?”
“To see if you were a just man,” Grandpa said. “You are to take my place. I couldn’t bear seeing you go through such loss, so I led you to believe such things knowing the pain would be temporary.”
“Take your place?” Tommy asked.
“As Shen Lu Kai,” Grandpa said, “God’s Green Armor.”
“As what?” Tommy asked.
The old man pulled the fabric of his shirt apart to reveal a glowing green chariot wheel tattoo. “Touch the wheel and ask Kuan Ti to judge you.”
Tommy just stood there.
“Do it, boy,” Grandpa said. “If you want to see justice done, touch the wheel.”
Tommy did as he was told.
The moment his fingertips touched his grandfather‘s chest, the chariot wheel began to turn and tendrils of green ectoplasmic energy snaked out from the tattoo. They passed through Tommy’s shirt where the sword had pierced him and an intense cold spread throughout his chest and then flowed to the rest of his body. Unbuttoning his shirt, Tommy stared in amazement as the energy reformed the image on his own chest. When he looked up at his grandfather, he saw that his tattoo had almost completely faded.
A strange look crossed his grandfather’s face. “I didn’t expect this to happen,” he said, then grunted in pain.
Once the tattoo had been transferred, the energy maintained the connection between Tommy and his grandfather’s ghost. The boy watched in horror as the ectoplasmic figure began to elongate at the connecting points until he was drawn into his grandson. When there was nothing left of the old man’s ghost, Tommy began to weep.
“I appreciate the tears, but they really aren’t necessary.”
“Grandpa?” Tommy said, looking around.
“How do you feel?”
“Where are you?” Tommy asked.
“I’m a part of you now,” his grandfather said. “Now, how do you feel?”
Tommy couldn’t help but smile. “I’m feeling a bit creeped out, actually.” He thought for a moment. “Am I hearing you in my head or with my ears.”
“No one else can hear me,” Grandpa replied. “Now, tell me how you feel.”
“All things considered,” Tommy said, “I feel fine.”
Somehow, Tommy could sense that his grandfather’s spirit was smiling.
“If you think you feel fine now,” Grandpa said, “wait until you touch the tattoo.” his voice sounded almost giddy.
Tommy touched his new tattoo, but nothing happened. “Oh, yeah,” he said, his voice playfully sarcastic, “this is awesome.”
“Don’t get smart,” Grandpa said. “When you touch it, ask Kuan Ti to judge you.”
Tommy did as he was told. To his amazement, the chariot wheel began to spin. The tendrils of green energy that had transferred the tattoo and his grandfather’s spirit to him emanated from the edge of the wheel and began to wrap around him. As the mystical ink flowed across his body, it started to harden, taking the substance and texture of armor. Beneath the armor, Tommy’s muscle mass began to increase and his skin began to thicken.
His grandfather gave him a moment to relish the transformation, then asked, “Now, how do you feel?”
“I…this…wow!” was all Tommy could say. Before he had a chance to say, or even think of, anything else, he heard a voice behind him.
“Tommy?”
The transformed teen turned and saw Maggie standing at the door, her eyes wide with surprise.
All Tommy could think to say was, “Uh, hi.”
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:46:39 GMT
Part 9
Maggie stared in fascination at the armored figure before her. She had stepped out the back door of the Golden Palace as Tommy’s transformation began. The handsome face that she loved to see smile was now hidden behind a demonic jade mask. Matching hilts were visible, rising from scabbards strapped to his back. He stood taller by a couple of inches--or was that because of the helmet--and he seemed a bit bulkier. When he spoke his voice was an octave lower, though she could still recognize it as belonging to Tommy.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
Tommy tried to remove the helmet, or, at least, the mask, but discovered they would not budge. He struggled for several seconds before Maggie stepped forward and pulled his hands from his face.
Again, she asked, “What happened?”
“It’s hard to explain,” Tommy said.
“I heard you talking to someone,” she said, “but when I came out, all I saw was you turning into…this.”
“I was told that I had been chosen,” he replied.
“Who told you? Who were you talking to?” Maggie asked.
Tommy had never told her about his grandfather’s ghost, so he wasn’t sure if she would believe him now. As he debated how much of what just happened he should share with Maggie, he heard the old man’s voice in his head.
“You can trust her,” he said, “but not yet. You need to get her inside because there is about to be trouble.”
“Maggie,” Tommy said, preparing to pass on his grandfather’s warning, “you need…” Before he could say more, he saw her eyes widen in fear.
When he turned around, Tommy saw why. The Green Dragons had returned, and this time, the odds were definitely not in his favor. And unlike his previous encounters with them, they were armed and not bothering to hide their weapons. The weapon of choice for the Dragons, much like their predecessors from decades earlier had chosen, was the hatchet. In addition to the three he had encountered earlier, who seemed reluctant to be there, there were seven more Dragons that he had to deal with.
“Well, Maggie,” Jimmy said, “you don’t waste time when your boyfriend’s not around, do you? Once you’re finished with the Halloween reject, maybe you’d like to spend a little time with the Dragons. We’ll show you how good we can share.”
Maggie started to respond, but Tommy held up his hand. “Don’t say a word,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. When he turned his full attention to his enemies, he lowered his voice even more and spoke.
“Isn’t it time for you children to be in bed?” he asked.
“Children?” Frankie Po said, raising his hatchet and stepping forward. “I’ll show you who’s a child.”
Jimmy put his hand out and stopped his tong brother from moving past him. “Hold on.” He then motioned for the others to fan out across the alley.
Tommy stepped in front of Maggie.
Jimmy looked at the armored figure. “Did Maggie make that costume for you?”
“Maybe if we’re nice to her,” one of the other boys said, “she’ll make one for us.”
“Oh,” Frankie said, a wicked sneer on his face as he made eye contact with Maggie, “we’re going to be real nice to her, and her friend can watch us once we peel that tin can off of him and cut him up real good.”
“Use the swords.”
Since no one else reacted to the disembodied voice, Tommy guessed that it was intended only for him.
“I’m not using the swords,” Tommy replied with his thoughts. “I’m not a killer.”
“It is the justice they deserve.”
“If I kill,” Tommy told his grandfather, “I’ll be no better than they are.”
“Draw the swords,” Grandfather said. “I promise that you won’t kill anyone.”
Tommy felt an assurance in his grandfather’s voice, so he reached over his shoulders and drew the swords from their scabbards.
Unaware that the armored figure standing protectively in front of Maggie was carrying on a conversation, Jimmy looked at him and asked, “Well, aren’t you going to say something?”
“I have no intention of killing you,” Tommy said, “but if you don’t walk away now and leave her and her family alone, then, I promise you that you will feel pain like you’ve never felt before.”
The sight of two drawn swords took the wind out of the Dragons’ sails, enough so that even though they didn’t turn and run more than a couple of them took several steps backward. The fact that the weapons were alive with arcing green energy did nothing to boost their confidence.
“Hold the blades level before you so their tips touch,” Grandfather said.
Seeing that his enemies weren’t as anxious to attack as they were a moment ago, Tommy did as he was told. The moment the tips of the swords came in contact with each other, he felt his chest tingle as the energy emanating from each blade flared and began weaving itself together. Beneath his grip, he felt the blades begin to thicken and round off. A final flash of light forced the Dragons to take another step back. When the light faded, the swords were gone and Tommy was holding a jade staff.
Unfortunately, when the light faded, Tommy was trying to convince Maggie to go back inside. Seeing this, the Dragons made their move. The three closest rushed the armored Tommy like an angry wave in an attempt to take him to the ground. Taking advantage of the attack, Jimmy made a grab for the staff.
Faster than any of them could imagine, Tommy pivoted the staff from its horizontal position in front of him until the end of it was held firmly in his hands. With the skill of a professional baseball player, he swung the weapon and swept his three attackers aside. As they tumbled to the ground, he let the momentum of the staff carry it across his back and around his shoulders until it spun back into his hands in front of him. When he brought the staff level, Jimmy was there to grab it. Neither teen was prepared for what happened next.
The moment Jimmy’s hands touched the staff, a bolt of energy erupted from it and completely engulfed him. Tommy felt his mouth open and heard the words issue forth, but the voice was not his, and neither was it his grandfather’s. The new voice was deeper, richer, more authoritative.
“You are not just,” the voice said. “You have transgressed against justice, and for that, you must be with punished. This is the judgment of Kuan Ti.”
Jimmy’s expression, once the energy faded, was one of complete surprise with a hint of dawning fear. The other Dragons were shocked to discover that their friend was no longer flesh and blood, but, instead, appeared to be a statue of jade forever reaching for the staff.
“I said I’m not killing anyone!” Tommy shouted, in his mind. “How is this just?”
“Calm yourself, boy,” Kuan Ti said. “Do not forget to whom you speak.”
“You’ve turned me into a murderer,” Tommy said. “You’ve made me worse than them.”
“I said calm yourself,” Kuan Ti repeated, more forceful this time. “Although he deserves it, the young fool is not dead. Now, defend yourself.”
The Dragons anger overcame their surprise and they charged their armored foe, still not knowing who it was they were truly fighting.
“This isn’t over,” Tommy told Kuan Ti, as he planted the tip of the staff in the empty space where a brick was missing from the alley and vaulted over the heads of the Dragons. With his arms stretched up over his head and the weapon spinning in his hands, his landing brought to mind that of a human helicopter. “This is your last chance to walk away,” he said.
Despite his display of power, however, the unspoken lords of Chinatown would not be dissuaded. Yelling like the Mongol horde, they reversed their direction and attacked.
Tommy met them head on, the staff spinning and flailing like a thing alive.
The first Dragon went down screaming when an overhand strike brought the staff down across shoulder, snapping his clavicle like a dry twig. Even before he hit the ground, Tommy was using his momentum to twist away from the charge. With his left knee bent, he let his right foot slide across the bricks until he was low to the ground. With a quick forward thrust, he drove the staff into the solar plexus of another Dragon, stopping him in his tracks and sending him, too, to the ground on his hands and knees gasping for breath.
Pulling the staff back, he let it slip through his hands until the end which had restricted the boy’s breathing was firmly in his hands. Angling the opposite end downward, the moment it touched the ground, Tommy sprang upwards like a pole vaulter going in reverse. When the staff was vertical, he balanced on top, his legs and feet together in the air above his head, twisted until they would be behind him when he descended, and began to drop backwards. Instead of touching the ground, however, his feet found the wall behind him. Using it as a springboard, Tommy spun around the staff and caught two more Dragons square in the face; one staggered back, blood pouring from a broken jaw, while the other dropped like a sack of potatoes when Tommy’s left foot nailed him right between the eyes.
In less than a minute, ten had become five.
Of the five remaining, three of them were the ones who had encountered Tommy and the ghostly voice earlier. They looked first at Jimmy, then at their fallen companions, and decided they had had enough. Tommy watched as they slowly removed their leather jackets and dropped them on the ground at Jimmy’s feet. With their hands up, palms open, they glanced toward the end of the alley, then looked back at the armored warrior.
Tommy nodded once, and the three teens fled as fast as they could. Once they were gone, he turned his attention back to the two remaining Dragons. “You have a choice,” he said. “You can gather up your friends and leave,” he paused to let them consider, “or we can continue this.”
Their answer let him know the fight was over.
“We can’t carry them all,” one of them said.
Tommy looked at the fallen Dragons. “All but one is conscious; they can walk.”
“What about Jimmy?” the other asked.
“Yeah,” Tommy thought, directing it towards Kuan Ti, “what about Jimmy?” To the Dragons, he said, “Remember Jimmy, and remember this. Chinatown is now under my protection; the Dragons will no longer be tolerated. Pass it on.”
“Who are you?” one asked.
Tommy thought for a moment. “I am Shen Lu Kai.”
When the Dragons left, there was nine jackets laying on the ground.
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:47:47 GMT
Part 10
Despite his mother’s hopes, Matt had spent most of his weekend, and a good bit of his free time during the week, copying notebooks. He took a short break on Sunday to talk his dad into taking him to the bookstore where he spent what would have been a couple months worth of allowance on algebra, calculus, and science books. Excited by his son’s sudden interest, his dad told him to save his money, that he would cover the cost of the books. His mother’s reaction to the whole thing, however, was mixed.
“I’m happy you are so interested in this stuff,” Mom told him one evening, “but don’t forget to get out and have some fun.”
“I won’t, Mom,” Matt said.
“Are you still going to that basketball game Friday night?”
“Well…”
“Matthew!” Mom said, somewhat excited. “You’ve already promised Seth…”
“I’m kidding, Mom,” Matt said, laughing. “Of course I’m still going.”
Mom tossed a throw pillow at him, catching him in the side of the head. They both had a good laugh.
* * * * *
By bedtime Thursday evening, a mentally exhausted Matt had finally finished copying his great-uncle’s notebooks. As he fell into a deep sleep, his mind refused to let the knowledge fade. He had been certain the man was working on something important, and now that his consciousness was out of the way, his sub-conscious took over. At some point during the night, Matt began to dream.
He found himself walking through an open field, although he had no sense of passing time. After what could have been a minute or an eternity, he approached an arrow-shaped sign. Matt stared at the sign, not sure of what it meant, but certain it was something he should remember. 4G-7E pointed straight ahead, so he continued on his way, but not before he pulled a notepad from the air and jotted down the numbers and letters on the sign.
After walking for several minutes, he saw something in the distance that appeared to be a small section of fencing. Drawing nearer, he realized what he was seeing was not a fence, but a pair of parentheses enclosing more numbers and letters. As he approached, letters and numbers lined up as though they were waiting on him. He jotted these down as well, (3X3W).
Matt blinked, and the soft, green grass, suddenly became hard, green slate. He blinked again and decided that this would be a good place to take a rest, so he sat down. He started to nod off when he heard something, or a whole bunch of somethings, coming up the slate road fast. Looking up, he saw a cloud of white dust moving in his direction. Pulling a pair of binoculars from his shoe, Matt could make out chalk-white numbers and letters trying to escape the fuzzy clutches of a giant eraser. Leaping to his feet, he waved his arms frantically to get their attention. As they neared, he held up the notepad and called for the pursued to jump into it. With his prey suddenly vanished, the eraser sprouted wings and flew away. Matt looked at the notepad. In addition to the 4G-7E and the (3X3W), it now displayed a 6X9R4Z, as well as a single parentheses.
Continuing his journey, Matt soon came upon a small hut no taller than his waist and made of a single hollowed-out mushroom. As he stepped past, he got the feeling he was being watched. Matt paused, then stepped back. He waited a moment, then knelt down and peered inside.
The majority of the hut’s interior was taken up by a huge eyeball, and it was staring out at him. It blinked, and Matt stumbled backwards and fell on his butt. When it emerged from the mushroom, it’s full body, from the top of its eye body to the bottom of its fur-covered hooves, measured a couple inches shy of two feet tall.
The creature stared at Matt for a second, then a clawed hand reached up from behind its back and snatched the notepad from the boy’s hand. With the tip of its claw, it scratched something on the page then handed it back.
Matt looked at what was scratched, 2Y7E), then at the creature. It pointed at the notepad and then at itself, indicating, or so Matt assumed, that what he was looking at was its name. When Matt pointed at himself and started to speak, 2Y7E) yelped and scurried back into its hut, which promptly sunk into the ground up to its cap. The color of the cap faded to a dull gray, and when Matt knelt down to touch it, it was as hard as stone. The whole episode seemed odd, but he gave it nothing more than a passing thought once he turned and walked away.
From somewhere distant, Matt heard a sound. It was the first, he realized, that he had heard since he had begun this strange journey.. He strained to make out what he had heard.
“It’s time to get up.”
Matt started to turn towards the voice, a woman’s voice--a very familiar voice--when a second, closer voice caught his attention. Unlike the first voice which was soft and pleasant, this new voice was strong, elegant, and distinctively Elizabethan English.
“To be…” The voice paused, as if the speaker was thinking. “To be…”
Matt trudged up a knoll, curious as to what he would see once he reached the top. He merely shrugged at what he saw, a paper mache version of William Shakespeare pacing back and forth on a wagon bed stage. His hands were clasped behind his back, his brow was creased, and his head was bowed. He paused, extended his right arm in an overly theatrical gesture, and repeated, “To be” for a third time.
Matt started to clear his throat and make his presence known, when the facsimile spoke again.
“To be…” The faux poet turned his attention to Matt. “To be, to be, to be, to be, that makes eight be. Your parchment, lad,” Shakespeare said, holding out his hand. “That’s eight be, see. Eight be, see.”
Matt reached for his notepad, but, apparently it wasn’t fast enough for the bard.
He snapped his fingers, a sound that reminded Matt of paper being crinkled, and said, “Be quick about it, guttersnipe. The importance of my words is beyond your ken. Eight be, see. ‘Tis genius.” As he took the pad from Matt’s outstretched hand with one hand, the paper mache poet plucked a tail feather from a passing peacock with the other. He put quill to paper, then handed it back.
Matt looked to see what he had written; it was exactly what the bard had said, 8BC. When he looked back at the paper mache Shakespeare he had begun to wad himself up so he could be tossed into a nearby garbage can.
Before he had a chance to go any farther, Matt heard that familiar voice again.
“It’s time to get up.”
It was still pleasant, but not quite as soft. As he started in the direction it had come from, Matt began to read what he had been written in his notepad.
“4G-7E…”
“Matt, honey, wake up.”
“(3X3W)…”
“Get up, Matt. Breakfast is ready.”
“6X9R4Z(…”
“Wake up, Matt. You’re talking in your sleep.”
“2Y7E)…”
“Matt!” This time, the voice was not soft and pleasant. It was loud, frantic almost, and it caused everything to shake.
“8...B…”
“Matt!”
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:49:50 GMT
Part 11
Iron-Hat Ferris looked at the aged photograph in his hand and smiled behind his mask. With the exception of the cut of his suit, he could have easily been the man in the picture.
“Well, old man,” he said. “Tonight’s the night I show you that I’m more than just a, as you continually called me, pencil-pushing business major college boy with no real ambition. Tonight, you are going to see how to commit the perfect crime.”
A patterned knock let Iron-Hat know that his partner in crime, a contemporary of his grandfather, the original Iron-Hat Ferris, had arrived.
“It’s open,” the masked man said.
A puff of smoke appeared in the center of the room seven feet high and began to snake its way to the floor. Once it touched the worn rug, a light appeared within the coils and a figure began to take shape. As soon as it was fully formed, the light and smoke vanished as though it had never been; only the figure remained.
It was a man dressed in a black tuxedo with tails, top hat, a flowing black satin cape, and gloves. Unlike the standard white gloves and tailor-made shirt of most stage magicians, his was red, as red as fresh blood. A razor-sharp van dyke beard and upturned pencil-thin mustache adorned his face, and his flesh held a red tint that reminded Iron-Hat of something on the verge of demonic.
“Well, Gregorian,” he said, “how are the preparations going?”
Gregorian gazed at his reflection in the man’s mask for a moment. What he saw wasn’t the suave gentleman that stood before Iron-Hat, but what he had become after his last encounter with the Batman.
“Your knowledge of business management and planning appears to be well suited for this endeavor,” he said. “Your grandfather would be surprised.”
Iron-Hat noted that the man did not say proud, nevertheless, he was satisfied.
“Everything is in place for this evening,” Gregorian continued. “I have enchantments in place at each location to allow your men to teleport back to the chosen location. All they need to do is speak the activation word and the portal will open.”
“What about Dr. Parker’s device?” Iron-Hat asked.
“It is in place, and one of your most trusted men is with it now awaiting your command.”
“Are we sure it works?”
Gregorian smiled, it was not a pleasant thing. “It was tested on those fools that transported and unloaded it.”
“And the results?” Iron-Hat asked.
“It appears that their hearts were not strong enough to face up to even their deepest fears,” Gregorian said. “Their deaths appeared most painful.”
The younger man wasn’t pleased to know that he had lost two men before things even started, not out of sentiment, but because they were reusable resources that he would now have to replace. Before he could voice his objections, however, Gregorian spoke again.
“I have already found replacements to take their place in your scheme.”
Iron-Hat nodded. “Then, all we have to do is wait.”
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:51:40 GMT
Part 12
Mom dropped Matt off in front of Gotham High with the promise that she would return in two hours; Seth was waiting for him on the top landing.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” Seth said. “Was that your mom?”
“Yeah, that was Mom,” Matt said. “Why didn’t you think I would make it?”
“She ain’t bad looking,” Seth said.
“Ahem,” Matt said. “I repeat, that’s my mom.”
“You adopted?” Seth asked. “She’s way too hot to have such an ugly kid.”
“Hey!”
“Just saying.”
“Why didn’t you think I was coming?” Matt asked, hoping to change the subject.
“You seemed distracted all day,” Seth told him. “Man, I need to start spending time at your house.”
“Seriously?”
Seth laughed. “Okay,” he said, “I’m done.” After a short pause, he asked, “So, what has been bouncing around inside your brain all day?”
Matt spent the next several minutes explaining his dream from the previous night.
“That sounds like one really freaky dream,” Seth replied. “I told you that you were spending way too much time on that stuff.”
“Maybe I did,” Matt confessed, “but I can’t shake the feeling it means something important.”
“You going psychic on us?” Seth asked. “Who’s going to win tonight?”
“I’m serious, man,” Matt said.
“Okay, okay,” Seth said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”
“The bad thing is, I’m sure it’s a formula of some kind, “Matt said, “but I can’t seem to remember the last part of it. I don’t know if there is a number or a letter at the end.”
Seth shrugged. “Sorry I can’t help you out, man, but it’ll come to you. You’re a bright, intelligent young man.”
“You’re just saying that to make up for the comments about my mom, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“I’m cool with that,” Matt said.
As the two boys entered the gymnasium, Seth glanced up and spotted what appeared to be a meteor. He grabbed Matt’s arm and pointed up. While they stood gazing up, their actions causing others to look up, several more meteors filled the night sky. No one paid any attention to the men wearing Gotham Knights jackets over hooded sweatshirts entering the building, or the fact that they all wore domino masks.
Nor did they notice the boy in the Gotham East Dragons jacket who glanced up to see what had begun to catch the attention of those around him, and, seeing nothing, shrugged and continued on into the gym.
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:52:56 GMT
Part 13
All over Gotham, high school basketball fans crowded into gymnasiums unaware that not everyone was there for the game. As at Gotham High, groups of men wearing school jackets, hooded sweatshirts, and domino masks entered the buildings in small groups then separated to take seats near the many exits. Iron-Hat had taken special care to only choose men whose youthful appearance would allow them to blend into the crowd. In retrospect, he wished he would have had them wear ski masks which, given the weather, would have made more sense. It was too late to worry about it now.
Gregorian was already in his office when Ferris checked his watch. He poured himself a glass of water, then motioned for his partner to do the same.
The devilish-looking magician tried not to show his eagerness as he gladly accepted the offer. Since there was still waiting to do before it was time for him to initiate the next phase of the plan, he let himself enjoy the water and, inevitably, dwell on why he appreciated something so simple.
* * * * *
Batman and Robin stood looking out the window at the body of Paul Gregorian, a second-rate stage magician who had tested the waters of a criminal career and got in too deep. He had relied on his skills of trickery and sleight of hand to convince others that he had nine lives, but, in the end, all he had done was waste the one he had.
“Hmm,” Batman said. “I wonder if there is a moral in this somewhere? You know, last night I counted the times he cheated death. I counted to nine--this was his tenth…”
Robin’s eyes were focused on the black number nine on the dead man’s chest. “And so he was a man with nine lives.”
One moment, Paul Gregorian was diving headfirst through an open window to escape Gotham’s resident heroes, and the next found him someplace else, someplace very Dante-esque. His first instinct was to scream, and he did.
The heat was unbearable and he began to sweat immediately. His pores opened and rivulets of molten perspiration burned their way down his body. His costume, which consisted of a skintight green shirt with a large, black 9 on the chest, black pants with a single two-inch stripe down each side, black boots, a bright yellow sash around his ample waist, and a black, waist-length cape, burst into flame. As his attire fell away, his flesh smoked and was consumed by the sweat leaving behind cauterized gashes in his skin.
And he continued to scream.
Unknown to Gregorian, his cries of unimaginable agony several denizens of this nightmarish realm to him like moths to the proverbial flame. The first inkling he had that he was not alone was when a fanged mouth bit down on his shoulder and ripped away a piece of steaming flesh and muscle. He barely had time to register it when a barbed spear tip entered his back and was forced through his body until it erupted in a spray of fiery gore from his chest. Despite his grievous wound, he was able to continue screaming.
When the ground shook and burst open, spraying him with razor-sharp slivers of obsidian, and hundreds of demonic-looking locusts swarmed over him, stripping the flesh from his bones, he continued to scream.
When the banks of burning clouds gathered overhead and rain like drops of molten lead splattered on his exposed muscle and tissue, he continued to scream.
When the sulfur and brimstone consumed his lungs from within and without, and his throat was raw and bleeding from the screaming, he continued to scream.
But when he became unmade, for just the briefest of moments, he stopped--until he was remade and it started all over again.
In a place where time has no meaning, the tormented Gregorian suffered through this for what seemed like an eternity. It never got better, and usually, if anything, it was a thousand times worse. And he never stopped screaming.
Then, in one instant, when all that was left of him was a screaming skeleton wearing bits and pieces of his flesh and charred muscle like a beggar’s cloak, the screaming stopped. Though his torments continued, he found that they were almost bearable. That is when the lord of this realm appeared before him.
“Alas, Paul Gregorian, I hardly recognized you.”
The words were like poisoned honey, and the lips from which they dripped were part of a nightmare which no mortal could ever imagine. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with black, oozing puss looked him up and down, and cracked and bleeding lips parted in nothing even remotely resembling a smile. With toxic spittle dripping down his chin, the Devil spoke.
“You claimed to be a man of nine lives while you walked among the living,” the Devil said, “and you used lies and deceit to convince people it was the truth. I like that in a person.”
As Gregorian listened, his body was being remade. No longer was he the slightly-overweight middle-aged man with a receding hairline, but, rather, a trim and tone man with jet black hair. Although he couldn’t see himself, he knew his appearance was now that of the suave and debonair Satan who was said to tempt the innocent, no the monstrosity that stood before him.
“I want to offer you one more life,” the Devil said.
“I would give you my soul…” Gregorian started to say, but the Devil cut him off.
“Your soul is already mine,” he said. “If it were not, you would have gone to that other place.”
“Then, why send me back?” Gregorian asked.
“Because,” the Devil said, reaching out and touching Gregorian’s chest with a disease-blackened fingernail, “you can do more for me in the realm of the living than you can here.”
His touch brought more pain to Gregorian than anything he had ever felt before. With wicked glee, he carved a number nine into the man’s chest, identical to the one that had been on his old costume.
And Gregorian screamed like he had never screamed before. He was still screaming when he awoke in a Gotham City flophouse.
“Shaddup!” several of the current residents shouted at him, along with several phrases that were worlds and away more crude.
He started to mutter an apology, but the words that materialized in his mind were anything but. His lips formed arcane syllable and the cot of one of his agitated roommates suddenly burst into flame.
Chaos erupted as a dozen men scrambled out of bed and either tried to save their companion, put out the fire and keep it from spreading, or flee for their lives. As the noise roused others in the building, Gregorian calmly left the room and headed for the front door.
He had gone no farther than halfway down the hall, when he saw a water fountain standing in an alcove. He stopped for a drink, and when the cold water hit his lips and began to drain down his throat, he fell to his knees and began to retch.
“Oh,” he heard the Devil whisper in his ear. “Did I forget to mention that you can drink nothing unless it is offered to you?”
Even now, in Iron-Hat’s office in the middle of winter, he could hear the Devil’s mocking laughter ringing in his ears.
“Did you hear me?” Iron-Hat asked.
Gregorian nodded and got up. He looked at his partner. “I’ll be in place in two minutes,” he said.
Iron-Hat checked his watch as he, too, rose. “And thirty seconds after that, I shall make the adjustments to the late Professor Parker’s Illuso-ray and turn our little meteor shower into a full blown alien invasion.”
Gregorian downed the last of his water, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:54:13 GMT
Part 14
All over Gotham, people out and about had paused to watch the meteor shower that was taking place. Within the space of a minute, most turned their attention to things more terrestrial and continued on their way. Since the meteors were passing harmlessly overhead and not crashing into the city, the novelty quickly faded.
There were a few, however, who continued to watch the celestial display. These were the first to realize that this was no run-of-the-mill meteor shower.
Eyes already wide with awe grew wider as the stellar rocks began to change. Their craggy exterior began to smooth until it was sleek; the overall appearance of the meteor became streamlined and saucer-shaped. All forward motion ceased and they began to hover in place, slowly rotating like a top on an invisible axis. Multi-colored lights pulsed around the crafts’ outer rims in a pattern that demanded to be observed. Bright light, much brighter than the other lights combined, began to emanate from the bottom of the saucers until it became a beam that reached the ground.
Those nearest to the beams’ touchdown points were startled to see several massive figures take shape within the light. The moment they became solid, the figures stepped out of the light and looked around.
The first to step out of each beam of light was a small gray humanoid in an ash gray bodysuit. A large bulbous head that appeared slightly too big for the body supporting it gazed at the city through lidless, compound eyes set high above the cheekbones and closer to the sides of the cranium. Two vertical slits where a nose should have been flared and an exceptionally wide mouth filled with row after row of razor-sharp teeth, like those of a shark, grinned a grin full of wicked malice.
Behind the gray alien, huge ebony quadrupeds with thick bodies and corded muscles stood waiting, tethered to their masters by leashes of pure energy. Towering over the smaller aliens, who stood barely as tall as their knee joints, the neck-less beasts reared up on their back haunches and howled. A sound that would have put fear into the hearts of the greatest predators on any world erupted from their cavernous mouths and sent all nearby humans running for their lives. At the sudden movement, bony spikes as thick as Superman’s thigh muscles erupted from their shoulders and backs and the diamond pattern of crimson eyes in the center of their foreheads began to blink in anticipation.
With a laugh that sounded like a beached whale gasping for breath, the gray aliens released the beasts and turned terror loose on Gotham.
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Post by lee on Nov 14, 2018 22:55:13 GMT
Part 15
All across Gotham, the citizens reacted to the alien invasion of their city. Some took refuge in their homes, hoping the aliens would either go away, or else the Justice Society would come to their rescue. Others took to the streets, some to defend their neighborhoods, others to take advantage of the chaos and steal that which they had coveted of their neighbors. And then there was that very small number of citizens that took the fight to the aliens.
Red Robin, Sparrow, the daughter he recently became reacquainted with, and Power Girl left Wayne Manor to do what they could to bring the invasion to an abrupt end. Along the way, more heroes joined their ranks, some who were very used to donning a costume, a few who hadn’t worn a costume in a long time, and a couple who were new to the costumed life altogether.
The Huntress, putting all of her trust in the new man in her life, Bat Lash, to protect her adopted daughter, found herself swinging into an alley to protect a small group of winos who were sobering up very quickly due to the menacing growls of a gray alien’s pets.
Several blocks away, using fencing moves that would have left even the fabled Three Musketeers at his mercy, the Cavalier kept himself between the aliens and a group of retirees who had gathered for a night at the movies.
Across town, Green Lantern was using his ring to form cages around several of the quadrupeds bent on doing as much damage as possible.
Princess Mina Curry, known to the people of Gotham as Coral, a member of the Jr. JSA, had just returned from spending the holidays in Atlantis to find the city she now called home under attack.
Corona, another member of the younger group of heroes, was also out doing what she could to help. Using her yellow Qwardian power ring, like Green Lantern, she, too, was creating energy constructs to battle and contain the aliens.
Will Magnus, the second man to assume the roll of Robotman, could hear police reports coming in, yet, when he took to the streets, all his optical sensors could detect were people running around in a panic. With no aliens in sight, he spent his time stemming the tide of rampant looting.
The minute he heard about the alien invasion on the news, William Everett donned his black and gold costume and headed to the roof of his apartment. Spying one of the grays and it’s quadruped pets, he let his senses reach out in hopes of using the aliens’ abilities against them. He was surprised to discover that he felt no change within himself. Even without powers, he knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, so he climbed down the fire escape and engaged the first alien he could find.
And while this was all going on, those Gothamites who were attending the various basketball games were discovering that they had problems of their own.
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