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Post by sandy on Apr 29, 2020 20:51:58 GMT
John Reiter has done me the kindness of taking my old posts (dating back to 2012) and reposting them on this new system. I am back and am adding to the story. So that I can edit where necessary, I am reposting the stories on this thread and adding new material. For starters, the only change I will be making is correcting some typos and changing one character's first name. If you see any logic or other problems with the story, let me know so that I can make any needed changes. Thanks and enjoy.
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Post by sandy on Apr 29, 2020 21:01:16 GMT
Chapter 1 -- The Coming of the Dark
Huntress, Red Robin and Batwing looked down from the rooftop of a tall building onto the street in front of a warehouse. A crime was taking place. Thugs were removing large crates from the building and loading them onto a large truck parked in front. The crates were filled with weapons. The heroes knew this, but did nothing to stop it.
"Everything is working just as planned," whispered the Huntress. Batwing smiled and cracked his knuckles.
"Don't do that," said the Red Robin. "It's bad for your hands." Batwing rolled his eyes and continued to watch the action below.
Suddenly, a black figure grabbed one of the thugs, pulled his torso downward and kneed him in the face. The thug fell to the ground unconscious. The figure then leaped at two other thugs, grabbed their heads and crashed their skulls together, putting them out of the game.
The Huntress's jaw dropped. "I don't believe it. Months of work down the drain."
"Uh, should we get down there and help him? There're a lot of those guys," Batwing asked.
"No," said Huntress. "He clearly knows how to take care of himself, whoever he is. Unless he gets into real trouble, we stay out of this fiasco."
The mysterious figure moved like lightning. Most of the thugs were unconscious before they even knew they were under attack. The sound of sirens could be heard in the background.
"Wow," said Batwing. "He's good. Real good."
"Shhh," said the Huntress.
One of the few remaining thugs pulled a gun and aimed for the hero, but at that moment the door burst open and the police came storming in.
"Drop your weapons," yelled an officer. And the thug, seeing that the game was over, dropped his weapon and surrendered.
Red Robin looked around. "Where'd he go?"
"Better be far away," said the Huntress. "He's ruined everything. When I get my hands on him . . ."
"You'll do what? Don't you think talking should be the first resort among heroes" The heroes turned around, and there he was. A man in a black costume with a cape. He wore a full face mask with a round
metallic piece over his mouth, which distorted his voice.
"Hero? Well, I hope you're happy," said the Huntress. "Thanks to your playing hero,the real villain will walk away free."
"Are you talking about the Big Man, also known as Vincent Reynolds?"
The Huntress's jaw dropped again. She said nothing.
"Yes, that's who we're talking about," said the Red Robin. "These hoods were going to lead us to him and finally tie him to the Midnight Gang." The Midnight Gang was a criminal gang known for committing audacious crimes at the strike of midnight.
"He's already in police custody," said the dark-garbed man. "The police have all the evidence they need to put him away for a good, long time. I'm just here to clean up the remaining pieces of the Midnight Gang."
"But Commissioner O'Hara didn't tell us anything about this," protested the Huntress.
"The Commissioner doesn't know everything that's going on in the field," replied the man. "Believe me, Mr. Reynolds will not trouble you for a long time."
The four figures said nothing for a few seconds. Then, the Red Robin broke the silence. "Well, if that's true, all I can say is well done. I gather you're the hero the press has been talking about, the Dark. I'm Red Robin." He stretched his harm out.
"I know who you are, Mr. Grayson. I apologize if I interfered with your plans, but as you now know, it was all for the best."
"Grayson?" the Red Robin said. "I think you've made a mistake."
"Please, Mr. Grayson. We're all on the same side. For all I know, you might know my secret identity."
The Red Robin said nothing. "Or maybe not," said the Dark. He walked to the edge of the roof. "If that will be all . . ." He jumped off the roof.
The Huntress, Red Robin and Batwing raced to the roof's edge and looked down. But there was nothing to see. No dead body on the ground and the hero was nowhere to be seen.
"Cool," said Batwing.
"Shut up, Batwing," said the Huntress. Red Robin grimaced at the Huntress's harsh tone. The Huntress looked at the Red Robin, "He knows who you are," she said.
"Which means he knows who you are," he replied.
"And me, too," said Batwing.
"Shut up, Batwing."
"Leave the boy alone, Helena. This isn't his fault," Red Robin stated.
"And we don't have the foggiest idea who this Batman wannabe is," snapped the Huntress.
The Red Robin thought for a moment. "I don't' know if it's fair to say that we have no idea who he is. We might actually know him."
"You think he's police?" asked the Huntress.
"Well, we can't rule that out. That voice distorter thing he uses. It's clear he's worried about disguising his voice, which means he's afraid that someone might recognize it. If he has communications with the police, which he apparently does, and he's a police officer, that might be a concern."
"Or he could be a criminal," said the Huntress.
"Possible, but less likely," said the Red Robin. "He is responsible for a large number of arrests in the past month."
"Still, we can't rule out that possibility. It won't be the first time a villain has pretended to be a hero," said the Huntress.
"True, we can't rule it out." But Grayson did not like the idea. It was clear Helena did not like the Dark. The fact that she called him a Batman wannabe suggested that she saw him as pouching on her father's reputation. That was something that Helena Wayne could not abide. There can be only one Batman. She had even objected to Dick becoming the new Batman, after Bruce Wayne's death, something that had angered Dick at the time. But if the Dark were to continue working in Gotham, they would have to come to an understanding. Red Robin hoped
that was possible.
"Or you can both be wrong and he just uses that voice distorter because he thinks it sounds cool," said Batwing.
"Shut up, Batwing."
"Helena," the Red Robin scolded.
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Post by sandy on Apr 29, 2020 21:20:54 GMT
Chapter 2 -- Don't Bug Me!
The Insect Queen streaked over Metropolis. She was not on the back of a giant house fly; her powers had evolved since those days. The magic amulet, which provided her with her insect powers, turned out to provide her with more than just the power to control giant insects. It had been hard work on Lana Lang's part to learn how to use the full powers of the amulet, but little by little, Lana was able to master the full powers of the amulet and learn to take on insect attributes, including the ability to create wings and fly, to control insects who she had not enlarged to giant size, and to shrink to insect size. Drawing on the power of the amulet she gained super strength or, at least, the proportionate strength of, say, an ant if an ant were human sized. She could grow a chitinous shell around her body, which, was strong enough to withstand bullets (at least to a limit). In short, she had become a very powerful young lady, even though she was in her early 70s. And with Superman out of Metropolis, she was now the city's premier super heroine.
Of course, most miraculous of all, the amulet had rejuvenated her. She was now physically 24 or thereabouts, and it felt wonderful. Of course, things had changed since she was a girl; men were different, more aggressive. But one thing Lana had learned her first time around, men will adapt to a woman's needs. And her wants and needs were not about to change.
After she had first been rejuvenated, Lana made the mistake of trying to convince people she was the elderly television critic, who had miraculously been made young. Not too many people believed it, so it turned out to be very easy to convince them that she was a young cousin with the same name, and that the elderly Lana Lang had taken ill and had moved to Arizona for the good climate. Everybody believed that.
Lana had also taken on a new career a novelist, writing books for young readers. The fact was that long before she became the Insect Queen, she had been noodling with the idea of a book series about a young time traveler, who traveled to the days of the Roman Empire, trying to stop an evil time traveler from changing the past. With new youth came new ambition, and she finished the book, got herself an agent and sold it (the book, not the agent). It hadn't been easy; there had been a lot of rejections before the book was bought. But success had come. The first book in the series had been on the best seller list for close to a year, the second was due to be published in a few months, and she was hard at work on the third.
So everything was coming up roses for Lana Lang, super heroine and famous and rich novelist.
Of course not everything was clover. There were still super villains who had to be dispatched, but to the best of her knowledge, all of the big names were out of circulation. But that could change at any moment. The thing about super villains is that they did like to be imprisoned for very long and had a tendency to break out of prison.
And suddenly it did change. Lana felt a strong movement of air and moved just in time to avoid being hit by a flying red garbed character.
"How ya doin', Queenie?" the red guy said. Lana noticed that his costume resembled Superman's except where Superman's had been blue, this bozo's costume was red, and where Superman's was red, his costume was blue. And he had a big M on his chest instead of an S.
"Isn't it a little late for Halloween, fellow? Who are you supposed to be anyway?" asked Lana.
"I'm not supposed to be anyone. I AM Megaman, Superman's opposite number," said the mystery man.
"Another Superman wannabe. And a bad guy at that," said Lana as she flew at Megaman at full speed. Megaman had not been expecting that, and when she hit him he went into a spiral heading toward the ground.
But he caught himself and headed for Lana, punching her. Luckily she had put on her critinous shell, which cracked at the impact, but protected her from the full force of the blow. Still, it smarted.
"Not bad for a beginner," she said and was about to attack again when she noticed that his eyes were glowing. Twin blasts of heat came from his eyes, and they would have done serious damage if she had not instinctively moved. She flew around him and hit him at full strength in the back, sending him hurtling into the side of a building.
"You hit pretty hard for a girl," said Megaman. "Let's see how you like it."
He flew at Lana, and grabbed her. Suddenly a horde of hornet encompassed his face. They didn't hurt him, but they distracted him, allowing Lana to get free from his grasp.
"Now for my next trick," said Lana. Two flying ants landed on Megaman's shoulders. They grew, holding on to him. Megaman was strong, but he was no Superman. He was caught. Lana hit him in the gut.
"Why did you attack me?" she yelled. She hit him again. Megaman tried again to break free, but the ants held him firmly, as they headed toward the ground.
"It's a rep thing. I take you out, I'm the big man of Metropolis. And I will take you.. . . ." he gasped as Lana hit him again.
"Idiot, It's not as easy as you thought, is it?" said Lana.
Lana was going to hit him again, when there was a flash of light and Megaman disappeared.
"What was that all about? " thought Lana. But she received no answer, so she flew off, wondering what had happened to Megaman.
* * *
Megaman found himself in a large office. Behind a large desk sat an attractive woman with red hair.
"That didn't go so well, did it?" she said. "I think I can help you so that it will go better next time."
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Post by sandy on Apr 29, 2020 22:05:14 GMT
Chapter 3 -- Man of Thunder
The mansion was in a tony suburb of Gotham City, ironically just a few miles from stately Wayne Manor. The building, like every other building in the area, was unique, palatial and beautiful. A team of gardeners kept up the grounds. An equally large team of servants maintained the house. But the servants were not allowed in two parts of the house the basement and the attic. Those areas were reserved for the use of the two inhabitants of the building, its co-owners. Their names were Bob Benton and Roy Reardon. Those were not their real names. They had had others in the past, but those were the names that they were currently using and which they intended to use for the foreseeable future.
The basement was the domain of Bob Benton. He was an inventive genius, and the basement was his workshop. He was a young man, or, at least, he appeared to be. He had once been known as the Thinker, but he had died, transferred his body to machinery and created a new human body for himself, a super powered body with all the powers that he had possessed as the Thinker. Of course, it might have been expected that he would continue on in his new body as a master criminal; after all, that had been his business for decades. But Bob decided to shake things up. While super criminals were always beaten by their opposite numbers (the so-called super heroes), the smart ones committed crimes (in addition to the audacious ones that always ended in their downfall) that were off the heroes' radars. Hence, Benton had been able to amass a fortune from his ill-gotten gains, which no one knew anything about. He put the money to work, investing it. He had computer programs that assisted him in developing investment strategies. In other words, he was rich -- so rich that he did not have to commit crimes anymore. And why should he put himself at risk on imprisonment. He had everything he could possible need, and the youth to enjoy it.
Of course, the one thing he needed was a challenge. But fighting super heroes was not the challenge he wanted. That was a sucker's game. You might win for a while, but sooner or later you would lose and would end up in the hoosegow until you could break out. With a new body, he was safe from prosecution for any crimes that he might have committed in his old body. It was the perfect time to "retire" from crime. But what to do? Bob had heard of the barrier that separated the five remaining Earths. No one had been able to break through. Now Bob had no special interests in the Earth 1, 4, S or X, but the barrier was certainly a challenge. He had been looking into the issue for close to a year, and had been unable to come up with any method of breaking through.
One thing was clear -- the barrier was not a natural occurrence. Bob was convinced that it was supernatural or magical in nature. This was not his specialty. But it was the specialty of one of his former colleagues, the Wizard. Bob had heard that the Wizard was dead, but he did not believe it. Killed by the new Hourman? Preposterous. And it didn't take him long to find that he was correct. The Wizard was alive; he had even undertaken the training of a young magician named Faust. Bob took him away from that, convinced him that it was a bad idea, that a new line of work might be appropriate.
The Wizard followed Bob's advice. He also felt he was in a rut, running constantly from the heroes. But that is what he had done since the 1940s, and he did not really have an idea of what else he could do. Bob presented him with a challenge, and he set to it with a relish. He changed his name to Roy Reardon and totally refurbished his body down to the fingerprints (not the easiest thing even for a master sorcerer). They purchased a house appropriate for men of their stature and began work. It was discouraging work. They had little success; hell, they had no success. But in seeking the key to the barrier, they uncovered new ideas and methods in their respective fields Bob had even talked about patenting some new devices he had developed in the pursuit of their Moby Dick. Roy had found new spells, spells different from the workaday magic he had used in fighting the JSA and their ilk. They felt more alive than they ever had during the peak of their criminal careers. Their ultimate goal had not been met, but the process of reaching it was exhilarating and promised to continue to provide them with the intellectual satisfaction that had been missing in their lives.
Bob sat in a chair in his basement lab. He had been probing the barrier. It had taken a while to even find the barrier. The Earths existed at different vibratory frequencies. But when Bob tried to alter the frequency of Earth 2 matter to that of Earth 1 matter, he found resistance, a feedback which prevented the frequency change needed to allow a person or any matter to move from one Earth to another. It was very annoying. This effect seemed to be universal -- of course Bob could not know for sure if the same thing would happen if he were performing the same experiment in another galaxy, but he saw no reason to believe it would be otherwise.
Right now all Bob could think of was to probe the barrier at random places where transfers between the worlds had taken place -- meaning Gotham and Keystone City. He didn't expect much from this process and he was not disappointed. There appeared to be no weakness in the barrier. There was no way through it. He hoped Roy, who was conducting a mystical investigation, was having better luck, but he doubted it.
All of a sudden, Bob heard a beep from one of his machines. He had not heard a sound during the entire period he had been probing the barrier, which had been the last week. He flew to the monitor. And he looked. And he looked again. He shook his head, and looked for a third time. He turned a knob on one of his machines and the image on the monitor became clearer. It didn't make sense. Well, it sort of made sense, in that he understood what he was seeing, but he couldn't imagine how he was seeing it. He set the confusion aside and thought how this data might assist him in his ultimate goal.
He flicked some switches on the console of another machine. The machine hummed, but nothing changed. He thought of several different approaches, but the he realized one approach was most likely to succeed. He got up and pushed a button in the intercom by the door. "Roy, could you come in? I need your help." Those were not words Bob liked to say; he never liked to admit that he was not totally self-sufficient. But Roy Reardon was his partner. And magic might be just what he needed at this moment.
Roy entered the room. He was a good looking man of early middle age, greying at the temples, with dark hair and a mustache. "What's up?" Roy asked. He had been researching his library of books dealing with the dark arts, seeking any information that might assist them in their joint project, but nothing had turned up so far. But the barrier was magic-based, so he was certain that magic was the key. The Thinker's gadgets had little chance of success.
"I want to show you something. Look." Ben pointed at the monitor. Roy looked, but what he saw made no sense to him.
"What am I looking at?" he said.
Ben rolled his eyes. "It's the barrier," he explained.
"OK," said Roy, "So what?"
"There's something stuck in it."
Roy squinted at the console. "OK, I see what you're talking about, but what is it?"
Ben said, "If I was a gambling man (and I'm not the Gambler) I'd say it's a body."
"Wait a second. This barrier separates five universes, right?"
"Correct."
"So it's everywhere throughout the entire universe."
"Well, as far as I can tell, that's correct."
"Yet you manage to find a body stuck in the barrier? What are the chances?"
Ben looked like he was prepared to actually calculate them, but he realized Roy's question was rhetorical. "Very true. I was scanning the areas around Gotham and Keystone, where the JSA would most often affect transfers between the Earths. It's crazy, but this is what I found."
"I assume you want to get a look at the body," Roy said.
"More than that. If we can extract the body from the barrier, we may expose a weak point that we can exploit."
"Too easy," replied Roy, "but it's worth a try."
"And that's where you come in. Use you hocus pocus and pull him out."
Roy signed. "It's not that easy. I spell like that needs preparation."
"You have five minutes or I turn off your cable television."
"All right, all right. You're a mean man, do you know that?
"
Ben smiled. Roy would come through. He was the best at what he did. Of course, not too many people did what he did, so he didn't have that much competition.
Roy's eyes began to glow. Suddenly, there was a burst of light and the sound of thunder. And an unconscious young black boy, somewhat undernourished, appeared on the floor. Of course, Ben, whose eyes were glued to the monitor, did not notice.
"Damn. No weak spot in the barrier. As soon as the body disappeared, the gap was filed with, well with whatever the barrier is made of. We're going to have to think of something else."
Ray walked over to Ben and said, "Uh, take a look at what we have here."
Suddenly, there was a star burst and a sound of thunder. When Ray and Ben turned to look, they saw a large black man in a red costume with a star burst on his chest. He had a white cape with yellow trim and yellow boots. "Uh, weren't you a little boy a minute ago," he asked.
"Interesting," the stranger said. "I assume I am on a parallel Earth. I would have to be since my Earth was destroyed. Or at least was on its way to being destroyed when I left."
"Very likely. Only five Earths survived the Crisis," said Roy. He watched this powerful man carefully. He looked like a super hero, and Roy didn't have much affection for the breed."
"Only five?" asked the stranger. "Tell me, I once visited a parallel Earth and met an amazing stranger called Superman."
"Well, our Earth has a Superman. There's another Earth that also has one. What did he look like? Was he older or a young man?" asked Ben.
"Oh, he was young, a dark skinned giant, close to seven feet tall with a big S on his chest."
"Dark skinned? You mean black?" asked Ben.
"That's exactly what I mean," replied the stranger. He gave the two men an appraising look. "Is there something wrong with that?"
"Not at all," replied Ben. "But the Supermen we know of are both white. That world must have been destroyed along with the rest."
"A shame," signed the stranger. "But I am being most impolite. You gentleman seem to have saved me. To whom am I indebted?"
"I'm Ben and this is Roy."
The stranger stretched his hand out to Ben. "Thanks," he said. "Could you tell me where exactly I was before I was here?"
"Sure," said Ben. "You were stuck in an interdimensional barrier. Roy here pulled you out."
The stranger nodded. "I remember. My home earth was being destroyed. It was clear to me that there was nothing I could do about it, and it was clear to me that something bigger was at work. I attempted to breach the dimensional barrier, as I have done before, to see what was happening. But the barrier was totally different. It was like a storm, and that's the last thing I remember."
"Hmm. Your earth must have been one of the last earths destroyed by the Anti-Monitor."
"Anti-Monitor?" the stranger said.
"Long story and not really relevant. The last five earths merged and then broke apart, and the barrier between the earths appears to be impregnable. Roy and I are trying to find out why that is the case. That's how we found you."
"I'm Captain Thunder," the stranger told Ben and Roy.
"You know, we can really use you help. Your abilities would be an asset in finding a way to break through the barrier," Ben said.
Captain Thunder looked at the two men. He sensed no guile in them, but there was something that kept him from fully trusting them.
"Gentlemen, I appreciate your help, but I need to find my place in this new world. But I owe you one, and I pay my debts."
He flew off. Ben and Roy watched him. "A new super hero. Some of our old buddies are going to be awfully mad at us, " Ben said."
"Oh yeah," Roy replied, and the two men laughed. There was nothing else to do.
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Post by sandy on May 3, 2020 4:06:21 GMT
Chapter 4 -- Family Problem
The Red Thunderbird convertible tore down the Gotham Turnpike. Tom Wayne loved the car. It had been a gift from his parents when he received his Ph.D. in computer science. That was several degrees ago, and the car was a classic then, but Tom always found the time to make sure it was properly maintained. No mechanic could touch his baby, nosiree; he took care of the maintenance himself. And the car drove like a dream.
His Dad and Dick laughed at him. "What's the big thing?" they would say. "No car can compare with the Batmobile." And they were right but they were wrong. They just didn't understand. Mom understood. She was the one who picked out the car. She understood her son like nobody else ever had. When Tom decided to study computer science rather than something practical like business or criminology, she supported him. It was kind of surprising. His father had created the Batcomputer, which was way ahead of its time when he built it, but he took no interest in upgrading it. He didn't realize how important computers would be to the future of not just crime fighting, but everything. Fortunately, he allowed Tom to have his way with it. Oh, if his mother could see him now. If only.
And it was computers that were going to make the Wayne family even richer than it already was, hard as that was to believe. His patent for the Wayne chip, the most powerful microchip in existence, had just been approved. Tom, of course, had always recognized the applications for the Wayne chip, but now that he owned the patent, he could think of little else. This was big stuff, bigger even than taking down a costumed nutcase. Which reminded him, he'd have to take care of the Magpie. Her crime spree had gone on for too long. Tonight was the night that he and Beth put that jewel thief behind bars.
His thoughts were racing faster than his car, and before long he reached home -- Stately Wayne Manner. He garaged the car, walked to the front door, turned the key and entered.
"Alfred, I'm home," he yelled, as he walked up the stairs. It had been a long day, and he needed a shower. He entered the upstairs bathroom, closed the door and turned on the water.
Downstairs, Alfred entered the family room. "Master Dick, is that you?" he called. Nobody answered, so he looked upstairs. Hearing the shower running, he assumed that Dick Grayson had returned home and went back to the kitchen.
Five minutes later, the door opened. Helena Wayne entered. "Alfred, " she called. "Whose car is that in the garage?" Before she received an answer, the bathroom door opened. Tom looked down over the banister and gasped. "Catwoman," he thought. But as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was impossible. Catwoman was dead. At least he thought she was. And if she was alive, she would not be as young as the woman in the foyer of Wayne Manor.
Helena looked up the stairs and had a shock of her own. "Dad," she thought. But that was impossible. Bruce Wayne was dead. And this man was younger, younger even than her father had been when she was a young girl. And yet, when she looked at this man, she saw her father staring back at her. This scared Helena and enraged her. Since her father's death, she insisted that no one could take the place of her father not Dick Grayson or anyone else. This man, dressed only in boxer shorts, however, seemed more like her father than anyone she had ever known. And that could not be. Tom's thoughts were more confused. This woman looked like the Catwoman. But she couldn't be the Catwoman. She was too young and her eyes were blue, not green.. And the Catwoman had died, not exactly at his hands, but while fighting him. He did not regret it; she had killed Kathy Kane Wayne, his mother. She deserved what she got. But who was this woman? It was a mystery.
As each Wayne looked into the eyes of the other, he (in the case of Tom) and she (in the case of Helena) decided that it would not be a good idea to jump into battle against the other. First of all, Wayne Manor was home and it was full of expensive and beautiful pieces of artwork and furniture. A fight could (and likely would) cause damage and for what? Neither Tom nor Helena had done anything that the other could find dangerous or threatening. It's true that each was a puzzle to the other, but wouldn't it be wise to ask some questions first?
Without breaking eye contact, Tom said, "OK, who are you?" Helena laughed, "I'm Helena Wayne, and this is my home."
"Wrong answer," responded Tom. "I've never heard of you. There's no Wayne named Helena."
"Oh, and who are you?" she responded. "And how do you know anything about the Waynes.?"
"I'm Thomas Wayne, and I've lived in this house since I was born," he responded."
Helena gasped when she heard the young man's name. That was her grandfather's name. Was this some time travel snafu? It had been known to happen. "Thomas Wayne? He's been dead for quite a while. Who are your parents?"
"Bruce and Kathy Wayne," Tom replied proudl, "And I can assure you, I've never been dead!". He didn't add that his parents were also Batman and Batwoman, or they had been before they had retired. No use telling family secrets to this stranger, even though she claimed to be a Wayne.
"You're insane. Bruce Wayne was my father, and he never married any Kathy. He was married to my mother, Selina." She didn't add that they both were dead. Anyone who knew anything about the Wayne family knew that.
Tom laughed. "You're the one who's insane. Dad and Selina? Selina who? Kyle?"
"Of course," Helena responded.
Tom just stared at her. Could she be from some bizarre parallel world? That stuff did happen. But a world where Bruce Wayne had married Selina Kyle? It was almost too absurd to contemplate. But this Helena person didn't seem like a lunatic.
"Well, we can resolve this easily enough. Alfred!" Tom called. "Alfred will tell you what's what." But to Tom's surprise, when the door from the kitchen opened, it was not the elderly man that Tom expected to see, but a much younger man. It was Alfred Beagle, no doubt about that, but a much younger Alfred. Tom's jaw dropped.
"Hi, Alfred," Helena said cheerily. "Do you know this gentleman?"
"A relative of yours, Miss Helena? He bears a striking resemblance to your father. It's really quite amazing," replied Alfred.
Tom said nothing. He was the one from the alternate dimension. But what had happened to send him here?
"That remains to be seen," said Helena. She was enjoying this.
"Is Master Dick home?" asked Alfred. "I thought I heard him showering."
"No Alfred, that was me," replied Tom. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Tom Wayne."
Alfred looked at him closely. "I'm afraid I don't know any Wayne by that name. At least not since Master Bruce's father died. Though if Miss Helena had turned out to be a boy instead of a girl, I believe Master Bruce intended on calling him Thomas."
At that moment, a car door slammed and Dick Grayson entered, along with his wife, Karen. "Helena, whose car is in the garage? It's sweet. Just like the one Kathy bought for her granddaughter, Beth."
Tom's head was doing somersaults. This couldn't be Dick Grayson. He was twenty years too young. And who was this woman with him. Dick was married to Bette, Tom's cousin.
Meet Tom Wayne, Dick. He claims that this is his home."
Dick stared at the stranger. "He looks like Bruce. I mean it's uncanny."
For some reason, this response from Alfred and Dick made her uneasy. "Well, he's not Dad, and you know, as well as I that there is no Tom Wayne, at least not in my family."
"Take it down a notch, girlfriend," Karen stated. "We'll figure out who this guy is."
Tom began to think. If this was a parallel world, was there a Batman in this world? He walked away from these people and headed to what had been his father's study.
Hey, where are you going?" called Dick after him.
"Just want to see something," replied Tom. Helena, Dick and Karen followed him. Before they could do anything to stop him, he slid the grandfather aside, revealing the stairway to the Batcave.
Tom pointed down the stairs. "Batcave," he stated. Dick, Helena and Karen said nothing. "Where's Dad?" Tom asked.
Dick stared at Tom. "You mean Bruce? He's been dead for years."
Tom's jaw dropped a second time. "So you're Batman now?" At least that made sense.
"Uh, no. I'm the Red Robin."
"Red Robin? Does that strike fair in the hearts of evil doers?" said Tom.
"It does now," said Helena.
"So who's Batman?" asked Tom.
"Helena didn't think that anyone should be Batman," replied Dick. It had not been his choice. Though he now was quite happy with his career as Red Robin, there had been a time that he wanted to put on Bruce's cape and cowl.
Tom chuckled. "Well, she sure didn't know her father very well, assuming Bruce Wayne was her father." Helena took a step toward Tom, and he assumed a defensive posture.
Dick put a stop to this. "Enough," he shouted. "Who are you?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Tom replied. "I'm Batman."
"I've heard enough," said Helena. "Let's call Arkham and have them come and pick this lunatic up."
But Dick wasn't so sure. "Parallel world?" he suggested.
"That's what I'm thinking," replied Tom. It was good that he and this much-too-young Dick Grayson were thinking on the same track.
"But all the parallel worlds were destroyed, except for five, and there is no Tom Wayne on any of them. And there's no way to get from one world to the other. How did you get here?"
"I don't know," Tom admitted.
"But I do." They couldn't see him, but there was no mistaking that voice.
"Batmite!" snarled Helena. "What have you done this time?"
"I didn't mean any harm," explained Batmite. "But I couldn't help myself. You see, I was visiting a glimmer world."
"Glimmer world? What's that?" asked Dick.
"That's what I call them. They're potential alternate worlds that for some reason never spring into full existence. You only get to them for a second or two, but once you are in, it's like any other world. Anyway, this glimmer world was particularly wonderful. It had a Batman they don't all have one, you know and he was the son of the original Batman and Batwoman. I helped him when I could."
Tom chuckled, remembering Batmite's idea of help.
"Anyway, it occurred to me that since the glimmer world would disappear and this world doesn't have a Batman that it would be a great idea if I brought him here. So I did. Now he can be Batman here."
"No he can't," snapped Helena.
Helena's words stung Tom, but he had more important things to deal with. "But my family is on the glimmer world, Batmite. My Dad, my sister Beth. You have to send me back."
"But I can't," Batman explained. "The glimmer world is gone. I couldn't let that beautiful world disappear without bringing something of it here."
Tom's face fell. He would never see his family again. And, he supposed he was at the mercy of this Wayne family.
Dick felt some compassion for this young man, who resembled his mentor so strongly. "Don't worry, Tom. We'll help you find a place here." He noticed that Helena's face tightened. Tom noticed it too.
"Oh, he'll have a wonderful place here. I didn't just bring him over. I brought over the entire Wayne fortune and even his patents.
Tom was surprised that Batmite even knew about money and patents. But that would certainly help him on this world. But it was hard to even think about anything but his family. And he couldn't help wondering who this big-busted woman with Dick was. Was she this world's Batgirl? It didn't seem likely. She sure was distracting.
"He's not a real Wayne. He can do what he wants, but not here," said Helena.
Dick was shocked. This was the son of Bruce Wayne. OK, not their Bruce Wayne, but Dick couldn't imagine speaking like that to the Bruce Wayne of Earth 1, for example. "Helena, you can't be serious," he said.
"I'm dead serious," she replied. "And he can forget about being Batman on this world."
That was it, Dick realized. Her thing about her father's legacy. Dick had never understood it, not completely. Indeed, Dick had intended to take over his mentor's role after his death. That should not have troubled Helena, but it had. She demanded that he give up that idea, and he had. And now she was demanding the same of Tom Wayne. Dick was not sure what he would have to say. He expected that Tom's response would come quickly.
Dick was right. Tom walked up to Helena. "I've been Batman since the Catwoman killed my mother. Catwoman's daughter is not going to tell me what to do. I AM Batman."
Dick saw that Helena was going to blurt out an angry retort, and realized that would do no good. "Enough," he said. "We can talk about this tomorrow."
"Uh, dinner's ready," said Alfred in a soft voice.
"I don't think anyone is hungry, Alfred," Dick replied.
"I fully understand, Master Dick. Uh, Master Tom can I show you to the guest room?" asked Alfred.
"Oh, it's not a guest room anymore," said Batmite brightly. "It's Tom's room. I brought that over, too."
Helena stalked off. Karen followed her.
Tom walked upstairs, clearly shattered by what had happened. Dick felt sorry for him. His whole family was gone.
"Uh, I guess I goofed," said Batmite sadly.
"You just have to think before you do things," replied Dick. "Nobody's happy about what just happened. Not Helena, not me, not Tom."
"Oops," said Batmite and he vanished.
At that moment, Jason Todd entered Wayne Manor. "Hi," said Jason to Dick, "What's going on? Whose car is in the garage?"
"I'll tell you later," said Dick, as he walked upstairs. He decided not to speak with Tom until the morning. Tom should have some time to mourn and think before being confronted with any hard choices.
* * *
The next morning, Dick woke up early. Something was wrong. Not wrong in the sense that Solomon Grundy was rampaging through Wayne Manor, but something not quite right. He walked downstairs and noticed that the door to the study was open. He entered and saw that someone had pushed aside the grandfather clock and had gone down to the Batcave. He was pretty sure he knew who it was.
Dick walked down the stairs and saw a man in a costume, not the classic Batman outfit, but clearly inspired by it. As he got closer he realized that there were significant differences. This costume had a metallic look; it was some kind of armor. It was dark colored, with a blue bat on the chest.
"Is that your Batman uniform," Dick asked.
"No, actually it's my Blue Bat uniform. THIS strikes terror in the hearts of evildoers. I used it in a scam to flush out the Penguin from hiding. But I always liked it. I was thinking of making it the new costume, but, well this happened. But Batmite has recreated it for me, and there's no reason I can't use it here."
"As Batman?"
"Or Blue Bat. No reason to stir things up in the super hero community. By the way, I was going through the files in the Batcomputer. There are a lot of superheroes. On my Earth, all we had were Superman, Green Arrow and Speedy and a French heroine called Tri-Colleur. Helena is an idiot, and she pushed my buttons last night, but the name doesn't mean as much to me as it does to her. After all, I was Robin before I became Batman. And while I was at Harvard, I took on the name Nightshade for a few years before I returned to Gotham. I can be Blue Bat."
"That's good," said Dick, though he wondered what Helena would think. Well, it didn't really matter. She couldn't stop Tom from doing what he wanted, no matter how strongly she felt. But he was glad Tom was seeking to bring down the temperature of the dispute.
"And I'm leaving Gotham."
"Really?"
"Well, I can't really stay here at Wayne Manor. Too many memories. I mean, I like you, but you're not MY Dick Grayson. And don't get me started with Helena! It's better for me to start out fresh in New York."
"Wayne Industries owns an apartment in New York. You can stay there as long as you need."
"Thanks." Tom paused. "This is going to be hard, harder than anything I've ever imagined. I'm really all alone."
"You're a Wayne, Tom. You're not alone. We may not know you, and you may not know us, but we have common ground on which to build. Damn, you remind me so much of Bruce."
"Oh, by the way, Batmite is coming with me."
"Really?"
"Isn't that right, little buddy?"
Batmite popped into the room. "It sure is, Blue Bat. I can't wait for all the fun we're going to have."
Tom chuckled, and he stretched his hand out to Dick. "I'll be seeing you, Dick."
"Count on it."
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Post by sandy on May 3, 2020 4:29:30 GMT
Chapter 5 -- A Secret Origin
Dan Peters sat at his desk, reviewing faxes from a number of consultants that he employed. That was what he did. He asked questions, paid for the answers from top experts, reviewed the answers and made investment decisions based on them. If the answers were not sufficient for his purposes, he asked additional questions and sent them out by fax. In his opinion, the fax machine was the most important invention of the decade. It certainly was important to his business. And his business was very successful. Dan had started off with a tidy fortune, but he now had a large one. It was all about having the correct information and knowing how to analyze it. If he wanted, Tom could be managing a huge investment fund, but that was not what he wanted. What he wanted was to grow his fortune, leaving him with the time and money to pursue his second career that of a super hero. Dan was the Dark.
If the general public were to know about Dan's two careers, it would probably be more surprised by the fact that he was working as an active investor, earning his money by picking stocks. Until a year and a half ago, Dan Peters was one of Hollywood's top stars, a genuine action hero. No, most of them would not be taken aback to find that this good looking leading man was a super hero. That was just an extension of what they already knew of him. But investing seemed so dull, not the kind of thing Dan Peters would do. But the truth is that both of Tom Peters's careers -- the dull one and the anything-but-dull one -- stemmed from the same incident, the incident that ended his movie career.
Dan had become a movie star more by accident than design -- in fact, totally by accident. He had been living in Gotham City, going to high school, when his parents died in a car crash just a month before his graduation. He was left with no support and, because his family was not wealthy, little in the way of liquid assets. He had no idea what he was going to do. Even if his parents had lived, he had not been planning on going to college, at least not right away. But he was faced with a tough decision. He decided to move to California. A close friend had moved there a few years ago, and he encouraged Dan to move out there. This friend's father had connections in the film business and could possibly get him a job.
So Dan moved to LA, and his friend's father made the requisite phone calls on his behalf. In a few months, Dan had a job as a stunt man. He was an athletic kid, and took direction well, and soon was working regularly in the business. And he probably would have continued a successful career as a stuntman had it not been for a car accident (car accidents seemed to have major effects on Dan's life) of Kyle Branigan, an actor for whom Dan was the stunt double. Branigan would be in a body cast for several months, which left the director in a bind. Branigan was not the lead in the movie, but he had a substantial role. If they recast, it would put things off for months, and the director's other work commitments would make it impossible to finish the film for over a year. What to do? Then the director had an idea, a crazy idea, and not the kind that would usually come to his mind. He had seen Branigan's stunt double. Dan was a good looking guy, and if looks were all that were needed to fill the role, he would be perfect. But looks weren't the only thing needed. Could he act? The director had Dan read for him, and thought that, with work, Dan might just be able to do it. It wouldn't have been possible if Branigan had been the leading man, but since he wasn't, the film's insurer OKed it, as did the producers. The publicity people put out this story as a chance of a lifetime for an orphan who had come to LA to make good. The movie was a success, and Dan's new career had begun. He made a string of successful movies. He was a movie star.
That was when Dan's path crossed that of Joe Bradley. While Dan's star had been rising, Joe's was going the other way. He had been an actor who had worked his way up to leading man status, but a few bad choices had led to him starring in a few flops. And in Hollywood, nothing but success is tolerated. Nevertheless, Joe had been up for the leading role in a movie called, The Last Cowboy, a movie geared to bring back the western genre. Joe's agent thought he had a great chance to get the role, but then disaster struck. Dan, who had not been interested in the film because of another job, found that the other job was being delayed, and now he had the time to do The Last Cowboy. His agent inquired as to the availability of the part, and suddenly Joe was out and Dan was in. And as far as Joe could see, his last chance to revive his career was gone.
Bradley believed (maybe rightly, maybe not) that the role was his and had been taken from him by Dan Peters. It was not right. Dan was a star. There were plenty of movies that he could star in; everybody wanted him. The Last Cowboy was Bradley's last chance. And he wasn't about to give it up. The only thing standing in his way was Dan Peters. So he came up with an idea to remove Dan from contention. Of course, it involved killing him, or at least hurting him badly. But Bradley was not a real assassin. Oh, the fire bomb he planted in Dan's dressing room worked well enough; had Tom not been in such good shape, he would never have survived -- but he did survive. But Bradley had not covered his tracks well enough, and the police were on to him almost immediately. The Last Cowboy was not made; Don could not play the part and Joe Bradley went to jail.
Ultimately, Dan recovered, except in one way -- his vocal cords had been injured. After the accident, he could only speak in a hoarse, rasping voice, which meant his career as an actor was over. Oh, he did do one film, playing a man with a hoarse, rasping voice, but that was not something he could build a career on. He was finished.
And he was angry. And the man he was angry at was in prison, and would remain there for 20 years, give or take, so he could not unleash his anger at Bradley, so he unleashed it at his friends. And soon he had no friends. Dan was not a stupid man. He knew what his anger was doing to him. He went to a psychiatrist, but after several months he found that his anger had not abated -- not a bit. So he turned to meditation. He studied with many gurus, most of whom he felt were little more than frauds, but he did not give up. One teacher spoke with him at length and instructed him in a different form of meditation. After he learned the basic techniques, he felt like he was divorced from his physical body and his anger dissipated while he was performing the exercises. Little by little, his anger abated even after he was done with the exercises. He knew he was on the right track. Then one day, while deep in a meditative state, something happened. It was like an explosion in his mind. Everything changed. When he awoke, he found he had been in a trance for over a day. And he was different. He no longer had the anger; oh, he was still angry, but the debilitating form of anger that killed his friendships was gone. But more importantly, his mind was different. He was more focused and, he could concentrate on more than one thing at the same time. He could watch a movie while calculating pi to the one-hundredth decimal point. That was not how a human mind generally worked, but it was how his mind did now. And as he explored the changes in his mind, he discovered a new ability -- a super power that came with it. He could teleport his body through mere thought. Dan wanted to discuss these changes with his teacher, but he found, to his great surprise, that his teacher had moved and left no forwarding address.
So Dan was alone in charting his new path. First, he decided on a new career. He had an excellent investment adviser, but soon found that he was able to act more effectively on his own. And as to his new abilities, he decided to go back to his hometown and become a super hero. It sounded crazy, but what else do you do when you get super powers? Dan believed that he gained his powers for a reason, and it wasn't to just make money. And that's how the Dark came to Gotham. He was a little surprised by Helena Wayne's reaction to him, though he supposed it might stem from his knowledge of her secret identity. Dan admitted to himself that that might make a super hero edgy. But it was so obvious. She was the Batman's daughter. How many people could be the Batman? You had to be rich or backed by a rich person. Assuming that the Batman was rich, there were a limited number of people in Gotham who were the right age and physical type. And once you had whittled the list down to the few who could be the Batman, you found the history of Bruce Wayne -- his parents killed in front of his eyes when he was a boy. Mystery solved. But at any rate, he assumed Helena would calm down after she saw that they were on the same side. But whether she did or didn't wouldn't change things. The Dark was part of the Gotham super hero crowd!
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Post by sandy on May 3, 2020 5:28:00 GMT
Chapter 6 -- Another Secret Origin
Ken and Phyllis Cordway were the primary shareholders and officers of Cordway Pharmaceuticals. The company had been started by Ken’s father, and upon his death, Ken had taken over. Phyllis, like Ken, had a Ph.D. in Pharmacology, and, until the birth of their twin daughters, had worked closely with him. The pharmaceutical business was a tricky one. There was a lot of research and development involved, and you could never be sure what research would result in a viable and salable drug. The Cordways had shown remarkable judgment in picking the drugs that they would develop, and, as a result, Cordway Pharmaceuticals had thrived.
But the new drug that they were working on promised to be the most important yet. It was revolutionary, and could literally change the world. As often happened, a side effect of a drug led researchers to look at what was causing the side effect. In this case, a junior scientist at the company had pointed out that certain rats that had been given the drug (one for high blood pressure) seemed smarter than the other rats, and when tests were performed on these rats, these observations were verified. No one knew why this was the case, but suddenly controlling blood pressure became less interesting. The focus of the research changed.
On a crisp Sunday in October 1964, the Cordways came to the offices, with their daughters, to witness some crucial primate studies and to discuss the findings with the researchers. If things went well – and everyone had their fingers crossed – they would be sitting on a drug that could increase human intelligence. The Cordways wanted to discuss with the researchers the mechanism by which the drug acted on the brain. Ken and Phyllis met with the researchers in the lab, and left Natalie and Cynthia with their nanny in Ken’s office down the hall.
What the Cordways did not know (or, at least, did not recognize as important) is that the boiler in the building had been acting up. The building engineer had arranged for the mechanic to take a look at it on Monday, and he passed the message to the appropriate people, but no one thought that this meant that the building was unsafe, not really. And by the time the engineer realized that there was danger, it was too late. The boiler blew. All of the researchers and Ken and Phyllis Cordway were dead. And the building was on fire. The nanny left the office with the babies. The hall was filled with an acrid smoke. She pushed toward the nearest exit and made it out. But just barely. She collapsed outside the building, and she never woke up. The girls, however, were very much alive, screaming at the top of their lungs.
It was not long before the police arrived, but all they could do was count the bodies. This was not a crime; it was a tragic accident, one that killed a dozen scientists and the owners of Cordway Pharmaceuticals. The secret of the drug was lost. While there were copies of the lab notes kept outside of the building, those notes did not include the latest, and most crucial, round of experiments. And everyone who knew anything about those tests was dead.
The Cordway children were taken to the hospital. They had inhaled a significant quantity of smoke, but recovered well. They were placed with their aunt, Janice Rimmer. Janice was unmarried, but, as guardian of the Cordway girls, she controlled the Cordway money, so she was able to devote herself to raising them properly. She only spent such money as was necessary, leaving the bulk for the girls when they reached maturity.
The girls thrived with Janice, at least until they hit puberty. They were both smart girls, extremely smart, geniuses in fact, but their personalities diverged. Natalie became totally devoted to science, especially pharmacology. Cynthia, however, became extremely self-centered, letting nothing get in the way of what she wanted to do. This caused her to butt heads with her aunt, and on her sixteenth birthday she left home, never to return. At this time, Natalie had graduated from college and was working on her Ph.D. Cynthia had not gone to college, but had picked up knowledge her own way, picking up on whatever interested her and learning it on her own.
When Natalie became 18, she received her Ph.D. in pharmacology and joined the Cordway Pharmaceuticals board. And when the president retired (he had held that position since Ken Cordway died), Natalie took over at age 20. And she was good for the company, and it prospered. But something was missing. First, she thought it was her sister. She and Janice had hired detectives to find Cynthia, but they had no success. It was assumed that Cynthia was dead, although Natalie did not believe that. She would know if her twin had died.
But Natalie had grown used to Cynthia’s absence. She was not the missing piece. She thought it might be the fact that she had no social life. So she tried dating, but the men she went out with were not her intellectual equals, and she stopped.
On Halloween she was invited to a masked benefit. She had declined. She had no one to go with, and she did not feel like going by herself. But at the last minute, she changed her mind. She didn’t have much in the way of a costume, so she put on a suit, a tie, a fedora and a mask. She wasn’t sure exactly what kind of costume it was, but it felt right.
She left for the party, knowing she was going to be late. That was not her usual way, but it was a party – people always come late. The party was at the Gotham Museum of Natural Art and History. She entered the building, but something told her not to immediately enter the party room, but to be stealthy. And her instinct was correct because the party had been hijacked by armed robbers. There must have been a dozen in the room. One was by the door, but in a minute he was on the ground unconscious. Natalie held a black belt in karate and was a skilled fighter. It was a hobby of hers, and it came in handy in this instance. She urged some of the guest to exits, and there was a rush out of the room. Two robbers rushed toward that door, but Natalie stopped them. The robbers were reluctant to shoot; stealing was one thing, but murder, especially the murder of rich people, was not something they wanted to be part of. But the head robber was not going to let the people just walk off. He shot his gun into the air.
“Stay where you are,” he yelled. “Nobody leaves without making a major deposit.”
But even he could see that things were not going his way. Natalie picked up a circular tray from the table and threw it at him. The tray hit him in the neck, and he dropped his gun.
The other robbers believed that a member of the Batman family was there, and they ran out along with the partyers. But by then the police were there. Natalie blended into the crowd and disappeared.
The next morning, when she read about her exploit in the Gotham Gazette, she knew she had found what was missing from her life.
And although she continued to serve as the president of Cordway Pharmaceuticals, she had a new role fighting crime as the Spirit!
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Post by dans on May 18, 2020 0:50:04 GMT
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Post by lawrenceliberty on Aug 21, 2020 15:05:21 GMT
I'm really interested to learn more about the Blue Bat and see more of Bat-Mite. This is a fun story with so many possibilities for future developments. I'm glad to see Huntress is no more willing to let this new Wayne be Batman than she was with Dick. I still feel like Dick is the best candidate to be Batman if someone has to fill that role. I like him just fine as Red Robin though.
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