Holly Robinson trudged through the Greyhound Bus Station, doing her best to keep a low profile. To her relief, none of the other travelers making their way across the crowded terminal appeared to be paying any attention to the inconspicuous young woman wearing an open army-surplus jacket over jeans and a Hello Kitty T-shirt. A hunting cap was clamped tightly onto her head, the visor and earflaps helping to conceal her gamine features. Mirrored sunglasses hid her tired blue eyes. Her short red hair was now dyed a mousy shade of brown. A battered canvas travel bag, containing all that remained of her worldly possessions, was slung over her shoulder. Scuffed black boots carried her through the station, which felt oppressively warm. Overdressed for the temperature, she sweated beneath her thick jacket. Her butt ached from the two-hour bus ride from Gotham City. A pair of cheap wool gloves kept her fingerprints to herself.
Welcome to the Big Apricot, she thought.
A newsstand displayed a variety of daily papers. Holly paused to glance over the headlines. “EVEN GODS DIE!” proclaimed the front page of the Daily Planet, above a black-and-white photo of Superman bearing the lifeless body of some costumed alien named Lightray, but it was today’s edition of the Gotham Gazette that made her heart miss a beat. “COP KILLER STILL AT LARGE!” her hometown newspaper lamented, above an unflattering mug shot of one Holly Robinson.
Oh, crap! She resisted the urge to flip the topmost paper over and instead crept furtively away from the newsstand, keeping her head low. Her finger pressed the shades farther up her nose, just to make sure they stayed in place. Spotting a bored-looking cop standing guard over the station, she took the long way around to avoid him. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck. There were way too many copies of the Gazette floating around the station. At any moment she expected someone to look up from their paper and shout, “There she is! The cop killer!”
In fact, the truth was far more complicated. Not so long ago, Holly had prowled the East End of Gotham as Cat-woman, filling in for Selina Kyle, the original Catwoman, while Selina was on her own version of maternity leave. Holly was not nearly the femme fatale that Selina was, but she’d thought she filled Catwoman’s black leather boots reasonably well, until a run-in with two sadistic Russian super-villains exposed her secret identity—and cost an unlucky cop his head. Holly had not been responsible for the detective’s grisly decapitation, but try telling an outraged G.C.P.D. that. With the entire police force out for her blood, she’d been lucky to get out of Gotham at all....
Exiting the bus station, she wandered out onto the sidewalk. A cold autumn breeze drove her to pull her jacket closed. Busy pedestrians bustled past her, intent on their own errands. Car horns punctuated a steady rush of late-aftemoon traffic. She rested her bag on the pavement, giving her shoulders a break, while she tried to figure out which way to go. This was her first time in Metropolis, and the strange city stretched out all around her, vast and intimidating. The names and numbers on the unfamiliar street signs meant nothing to her. Bom and raised in Gotham, Holly felt lost and alone.
Her spirits sank. In a moment of weakness, she extracted a cell phone from her pocket. An on-screen menu listed her most frequent contacts: Selina, Bruce, Dick, Karon.
Karon. ..
Her throat tightened and a solitary tear ran down her cheek. Karon’s smiling face, spiky pink hair, and hip designer glasses surfaced from her memory. Holly’s index finger hovered over the name of her girlfriend. She’d give anything to hear Karon’s voice right now.
“No!” she whispered hoarsely as her better judgment overruled her longing. Holly’s nocturnal clashes with Gotham’s criminal underworld had already put Karon in the intensive care ward once. Never again, Holly vowed. She loved Karon too much to bring down any more heat on her. Holly may have left a certain glossy black catsuit behind in Gotham, but she knew that she was still bad luck for anyone who got too close to her. The best thing she could do for Karon, and all her other friends and loved ones, was disappear entirely.
She tossed the phone into a nearby waste bin. A scuzzy-looking homeless guy immediately pounced on the discarded piece of tech. Help yourself, Holly thought. It’s all yours.
Hefting her heavy bag back onto her shoulder, she took off down the street toward nowhere in particular. The bus station turned out to be located in a somewhat seedy part of town, around the comer from a topless bar and a plasma collection center. Flophouses, soup kitchens, and liquor stores catered to a less than affluent clientele. Broken glass, crushed beer cans, and cigarette butts littered the sidewalk. The area looked slightly cleaner than the East End back home, but only by a hair. She appeared to have traded one slum for another, except that now she was just as homeless as the winos and beggars slumped on the stoops around her.
You can do this, she reminded herself. You’ve lived like this before. She’d been a teenage runaway at thirteen, fleeing an abusive home environment, and had never looked back. It only feels like your life is over. Think of this as a whole new start.
Yeah, right.
“Excuse me, you look like you need a place to stay.” She rolled her eyes. I should’ve seen this coming. Pimps were always haunting bus stations looking for fresh meat, as Holly knew from personal experience. She’d worked the streets herself, as “Holly Gonightly,” before Selina helped her escape that life.
“Sorry,” she said brusquely, not even turning around to look at the speaker. “I don’t do that anymore.”
Part of her kind of hoped that the stranger wouldn’t take no for answer. Her fists bunched in anticipation. Kicking a little bad-guy ass might be just what she needed right now. Don't mess with me, bitch. I’ve been trained by Catwoman herself.
A feminine chuckle greeted her refusal. “You mistake my intentions. I’m no predator, just a concerned sister.” Holly turned around and was surprised to behold a statuesque woman clad in a flowing silk robe. Auburn hair was bound up at the back of her head in a matronly fashion. Cool gray eyes peered from the woman’s elegant features. Her narrow lips and strong chin reminded Holly of a priceless Greek idol Selina had once stolen from the Gotham Museum. A golden circlet crowned the woman’s high forehead, while more gold glittered upon her throat, wrists, and ears. In her sandaled feet, she stood at least a head taller than Holly. The brisk fall weather seemed to have no effect on her.
“I have to admit,” Holly conceded, “you don’t look like the usual chicken hawk.”
“Call me Athena.” The woman’s deep voice held a trace of an exotic accent. “I run the women’s shelter across the street.” She pointed at a nondescript redbrick building on the other side of the avenue. A surprisingly classy-looking collection of tapestries and ceramics was displayed in the first-floor window. Medusa’s head, complete with serpentine tresses, was embossed upon a hanging bronze shield occupying a place of a honor within the exhibit. A freshly painted sign, mounted over the front entrance, identified the building as the Athenian Women’s Shelter.
Holly recalled that Athena was the Greek goddess of wisdom. She was supposed to be tight with Wonder Woman these days. The graceful stranger certainly looked the part, but surely she didn’t expect Holly to believe that she was actually that Athena?
Did she?
“I have a feeling that you’ll find a place for yourself there.” She raised her arm and, to Holly’s amazement, a snow-white owl descended from the sky to alight upon Athena’s wrist. “If not, you don’t have to stay.”
Although flummoxed by the unexpected appearance of the owl, Holly remained wary. She eyed her would-be benefactor suspiciously. “Really?”
“You have my word.”
Holly considered the offer. The sun was sinking toward the horizon and it was already starting to get darker and colder outside. Her stomach grumbled irritably; lunch had been a bag of potato chips from a vending machine back in Gotham. What can it hurt? she thought. Maybe I can get a warm meal out of this, then bail later if things get weird.
Nodding, she followed Athena across the street. The sidewalk in front of the shelter was noticeably cleaner than the rest of the block. Stone gryphons guarded the front steps. Athena opened the door and stepped aside to let the younger woman enter. Holly kept her guard up, but wasn’t too worried. Even if this was some sort of trap, she was confident that she could take care of...
Her jaw dropped.
For a moment, Holly thought she’d died and gone to lesbian heaven. The doorway opened onto a spacious lobby holding dozens of lithe young women in short linen tunics.
Of every race and ethnicity, they milled about the palatial chamber, laughing and chatting amongst themselves, seemingly without a care in the world. More women lounged on scattered chairs and sofas, snacking on olives and wine. Holly tried not to ogle the other gals too obviously, but couldn’t help noticing that they were all attractive and in excellent shape, without an ounce of flab or cellulite among them. Speechless, she wondered if she had accidentally wandered into an audition for America’s Next Top Amazon....
The lobby’s decor matched the overpowering beauty of its inhabitants. Belying its humdrum outer fagade, the building’s interior was a masterpiece of classical Greek architecture. Pristine white columns supported the domed ceiling, which boasted shining gold filigree. Marble statues of willowy nymphs, muses, and goddesses occupied ’ arched niches and alcoves. Olive trees sprouted from decorative ceramic urns. Perfume scented the air, which was invitingly warm and toasty, and a lyre played softly in the background. Holly lifted her shades to make sure she was seeing correctly. She shook her head in disbelief. Overall, this place looked more like a five-star hotel or spa than any homeless shelter she had ever set foot in before.
Who’s funding this joint? Bruce Wayne?
Athena entered behind her. The owl hooted happily and soared out over the nubile throng. Curious eyes turned toward Holly.
“Welcome home, Holly,” Athena said warmly.
So dumbfounded was the streetwise fugitive that it never even occurred to her to wonder how the other woman knew her name.
Suicide Slum was only slightly less threatening in broad daylight. Pawn shops, liquor stores, taverns, adult video stores, tattoo parlors, and check-cashing venues made up the bulk of the local businesses. “SHOW OFF!” had been spray-painted onto the hood of a snazzy green sports car that someone had foolishly parked by the curb. Gangs of street toughs lounged on the stoops and sidewalks, laughing raucously amongst themselves while making rude comments to unlucky passersby. Most pedestrians hurried past them, eyes carefully lowered in hopes of avoiding a confrontation.
But not Jimmy. Dressed in his Sunday best, he strolled down Hob’s Lane whistling a pop tune. Two of his priciest cameras dangled from his neck. His press pass was pinned to the lapel of a designer jacket. The rubber soles of his deluxe running shoes slapped against the dirty pavement. Jimmy figured he made a pretty tempting target, which was the whole idea. He had even considered donning a bow tie for the occasion, but that might have been push' fog it.
His nonchalant air was just an act. A trickle of sweat, running down his temple, betrayed his anxiety. Walking around Suicide Slum like this was just asking for trouble. I gotta be nuts, he thought, but how else was he going to figure out what was up with his on-again, off-again superpowers? As nearly as he could tell, they only manifested under stress, like when he or someone else was in danger. This isn’t suicide, he told himself. It’s a scientific experiment.
Sort of.
“S’up, fellas?” he cheerfully greeted a trio of tough-looking customers who were camped out on the stoop of a graffiti-covered crack house. Matching red bandannas and pyramid amulets tagged them as members in full standing of the Sphinxes, one of the city’s most violent street gangs. Tank tops, baggy trousers, and spiky Mohawks made an intimidating fashion statement. They glowered at the towheaded interloper who’d had the nerve to address them so familiarly. “How about those Metros?”
“Metros suck, yo!” The punks jumped to their feet, all too obviously spoiling for a fight. Their eyes gleamed with bloodthirsty anticipation. Clenched fists gave away their intentions. “We’re Yankee fans!”
“In fact,” a second tough explained, “we’re on our way to a game right now.” He grinned maliciously. “Maybe we take your cameras, so we can get some pictures, and your money, so we can buy the tickets.”
“And your shoes,” the third hood added. “Just because.” They surrounded Jimmy on the sidewalk, cutting off any chance of escape. Nearby pedestrians hurried away in the opposite direction, doing their best not to get involved in the fracas. Part of Jimmy wished he could join them. Here goes nothing.
“Oh yeah?” he challenged them. Raising his fists, he charged forward and kicked the nearest gang member in the kneecap. “You and what army?”
It wasn’t the snappiest repartee, but it had the desired effect. “Hey!” his injured target blurted angrily. His face flushed red. A cocky smirk was instantly replaced by a look of genuine outrage. A metal chain rattled against his hip as he drew back his fist.
Jimmy gulped. Okay, powers, do your stuff'.... Tattooed knuckles flew at his face. Jimmy threw his head back, expecting his neck to elongate like before. Poised leg muscles waited eagerly for another burst of superhuman speed. Boy, were these antisocial bruisers in for a surprise when his astounding new abilities kicked in any minute now... !
Nothing happened—except that the punk’s fist collided with his jaw.
The blow sent Jimmy reeling backward into an overflowing trash can. He crashed down onto the pavement amidst a heap of spilled garbage. Tasting blood in his mouth, he probed his front teeth with his tongue. Nothing was missing, thank goodness, but a couple incisors felt loose. A gong rang loudly inside his head. It took him a second to focus his blurry eyes.
And right about then, he thought to himself, Maybe I should’ve told Superman I was coming here, just in case.
The Sphinxes weren’t done with him yet. Led by the snarling hood who had laid Jimmy flat, they converged on the fallen reporter with clenched fists and bellicose expressions. Jimmy scooted backward, only to bump into the overturned trash can. Outnumbered three to one, he suddenly wished that he had left well enough alone.
“O-okay guys,” he stammered, trying in vain to talk his way out of a severe beatdown. “Sorry for the misunderstanding. Have a good time at the game. Popcorn’s on me.” He smiled weakly up at the sneering hoodlums. “Uh ... go Yankees?”
“Go nothing, fool.” The gang leader grabbed Jimmy’s throat with murder in his eyes. His fingers tightened on the reporter’s windpipe. “Nobody messes with me and keeps suckin’ oxygen!”
Oh my God, Jimmy realized in horror. This guy’s playing for keeps!
A tingling sensation rushed over his body. Before he knew it, needle-sharp spines poked up from his skin like the quills of a porcupine. The spines shot from his face and palms, spearing his attacker, who recoiled in pain and surprise. “Yaaaahh!” the hood shrieked as the barbs punctured his skin. Looking like he had just run face-first into a cactus, he scrambled backward into the arms of his fellow Sphinxes, who appeared equally frightened by Jimmy’s bizarre transformation. Their startled eyes bulged from their sockets.
“Let’s bounce!” a spooked hooligan exclaimed. Assisting their limping comrade, the gang members beat a hasty retreat. They booked down the sidewalk as fast their drooping trousers permitted. “Dude’s a freakl”
Jimmy barely noticed their departure. He was too busy staring in shock at the quills projecting from his hands. For a second, he feared that he had permanently turned into some sort of human porcupine, then breathed a sigh of relief as the pointy spines retracted back into his flesh. Within seconds, they had vanished entirely. Only a scattering of fallen quills upon the pavement proved that he hadn’t imagined the whole thing.
I don't understand, Jimmy thought. Why’d they come out when that guy tried to choke me, but not when he slugged me? And why shooting spines, anyway?
His experiment had been a success of sorts, but had left him even more confused than before. Gathering his things, Jimmy clambered to his feet and made tracks toward the nearest subway station. His jaw ached. A dizzying mix of fear and excitement had his brain awhirl.
What’s happening to me?
No longer bound by gravity, Mary Marvel soared through the heart of a raging thunderstorm. She thrilled in the fury of the tempest and her newfound powers. The night sky serenaded her. The thunder roared like a symphony of drums, as though the very atmosphere were drawn tight over the planet and hammered on with the fists of gods. Turbulent winds caressed her, and driving sheets of rain baptized her rebirth. She could hear the dark clouds scrape against each other and the raw elemental forces cycling through the air around her ... for her. Forty thousand thunderstorms happened every day, and right now she could feel ten thousand storms scattered between Gotham and Beijing. She was one with the lightning.
This is amazing, Mary exulted. It’s even better than before. She twirled high above the city, exhilarated by the sheer bliss of being able to fly once more. All her prayers had been answered—and then some. How on Earth could Teth-Adam walk away from a feeling like this?
She wasn’t just powered by magic anymore. She was magic. Her entire body was attuned to the mystical energies flowing unseen through the city below. She felt a subtle distortion in the ley lines and realized that something was seriously amiss. Perhaps that was why Madame Xanadu had tried to warn Mary away from Gotham before? As it turned out, however, she needn’t have been concerned; with the combined powers of Black Adam and Isis at her disposal, Mary felt more than ready to deal with whatever occult menace awaited her.
Time to show the world that Mary Marvel is back—and better than ever.
She swooped down from the clouds toward an apartment building in Midtown. Her heightened senses drew her straight to the source of the disturbance. Five pregnant women, clad in matching white robes, knelt atop the roof of the building, chanting in unison. They faced each other from the five points of a pentagram. The pouring rain plastered their ceremonial robes to their swollen bodies. Thunderclaps punctuated the verses of their chant. Swirling fumes rose from a lit cauldron at the center of the pentagram. Freshly spilled blood traced the outlines of a five-pointed star. A nearby clock tower tolled midnight.
Okay, Mary decided at a glance. This can’t be a good idea....
“Stop!” she called out from overhead. “You don't know what you’re doing!”
But they knew enough to raise a little hell, apparently. Before Mary could call a halt to the blasphemous ritual, fire and brimstone erupted from the cauldron, instantly incinerating all five congregants. The sudden flare-up blindsided Mary, who threw up an arm to protect her face from the bright orange flames. By the time she lowered her arm an instant later, the hellfire had died away and an honest-to-goodness demon stood atop the roof, surrounded by the smoking remains of the careless coven. The falling rain quickly extinguished the glowing embers.
Mary wasted little time mourning the reckless women; they had brought their incendiary demise on themselves. Instead she concentrated on the grotesque apparition they had foolishly summoned from the abyss. Curved horns crested the demon’s skull. Fiery red eyes glowed like hell-fire, and cloven hooves stomped against the tar-papered rooftop. Arcane markings tattooed his bestial features. All pretty standard, in other words. What was really disturbing was what the demon was wearing. To Mary’s disgust, the creature appeared to be clad in a suit made up entirely of... dead babies?
Overlapping layers of emaciated infants squirmed all over the demon’s leathery hide. Their shriveled, wrinkly faces were more hideous than cute. Cyanotic blue skin was stretched tightly over their bony bodies. Scores of tiny, toothless mouths wailed incessantly, the shrill caterwauling quickly grating on Mary’s nerves. They smelled like a hundred dirty diapers.
That’s just gross, Mary thought, making a face. She descended directly into the demon’s field of vision, hovering only a few yards above the rooftop. “So,” she challenged the vile creature, “what’s your deal?”
“Ha lo kamo sako!” the demon snarled, baring its fangs. His guttural voice scraped at her eardrums. “Devini morti! Formang’l al cii!”
Mary didn’t bother trying to figure out the monster’s infernal dialect. “Oh yeah, that’s what I would have said.”
“I am Pharyngula, the harvester of stillborn souls.” He scowled, as though annoyed at having to repeat himself. “Forgive me; I have not spoken English in over six hundred years, and your peculiar idioms are unfamiliar to me. Long have I been trapped outside this sphere of existence.” _
“No doubt for the betterment of humanity,” Mary guessed. She glanced at the steaming piles of ashes that were all that remained of the unfortunate coven. “Too bad those dimwits let you back in.”
“Yes,” Pharyngula agreed. “For you.”
He flung out his arm and a flood of writhing fetuses shot across the distance between them. Dozens of grabby
CSWNTDPHfli 11
little hands seized her with unexpected strength. Tugging painfully on her hair, clothes, and flesh, they dragged her down toward Pharyngula until the demon’s leering face was only inches away from her own. She felt his hot, sul-furous breath upon her face. The dead babies swarmed over her body, enveloping her in their greedy clutches. Her skin crawled beneath their clammy touch, and a forked tongue licked her cheek. “Hey!” she protested indignantly. “What do you think you’re doing, you pediatric pest!”
“How do you say in English?” He racked his brain for the right words, grinning evilly as he came up with an appropriate translation. “I’m going to devour your flesh and suck the digested waste from your intestines!”
Yuck!
“No way!” Mary declared. She wasn’t a just a frail, helpless girl anymore. If this revolting monstrosity thought she couldn’t defend herself against a pack of stinking rug rats, he had a lot to learn. Calling upon the strength of Amon, she tore herself free from the avalanche of stillborn infants. She shook off their mewling corpses like a dog shedding its fleas, but her stomach still turned at the thought of the satanic sucklings crawling all over her. You ’re paying for that, she thought, glaring furiously at Pharyngula. Big-time.
A roundhouse punch connected with the demon’s jaw. He went flying off the roof and plunged seven stories to the street below, where he smashed through the roof of a parked Mercedes. The loud metallic crash caused windows to light up all over the sleeping apartment building. A blaring car alarm woke up the entire neighborhood. Worried faces peered out into the night. The sirens and flashing lights of emergency vehicles converged on the scene, no doubt attracted by the pyrotechnic eruption of a few moments ago. The unleashed hellfire must have been visible from blocks away.
Mary hoped that Pharyngula had survived the fall. She wasn’t done with him yet.
“Mortal harlot!” The demon rose from the crushed
interior of the Mercedes. Howling in pain and anger, he shook a taloned fist at his attacker. The tip of one horn had been chipped off. A noxious green ichor bled from his nose. “I will consume your filthy human womb!”
Watch your mouth, Mary thought. Fists first, she dived toward her foe. His crimson orbs bulged in alarm as he saw her streaking down from on high. At the last minute, he ducked beneath her airborne assault, throwing himself facedown onto the mangled luxury car. Mary whooshed above his head, her gloved knuckles grazing the back of his skull. Smooth move, she conceded, but don’t think you’re getting away from me that easily.
Without even slowing down, she grabbed on to the chassis of an empty SUV and carried it up into the sky with her. Whirling in midair, she raised the huge, gas-guzzling vehicle above her head and took aim at the demon below. Visibly alarmed, Pharyngula frantically shifted gears. “Child, wait!” he pleaded. “I merely desire to inhabit this world again. I will eat only what I need to survive!”
“No deal!” Mary informed him. Her mission was clear: drive Pharyngula back to whatever purgatorial realm he hailed from. Or kill him, she thought with a shrug. I'm not picky. One way or another, he was going back to Hell.
She hurled the SUV at Pharyngula with the force of a catapult. Six tons of solid unibody construction smashed down on the demon, squashing him between the crumpled automobiles. Mary watched with satisfaction as an enormous fireball consumed both cars. The smell of burning gasoline carried the promise of barbecued hellspawn. She punched the air triumphantly.
Holy Moley! That felt great!
“DAMN YOU!” Torn metal shrieked in torment as Pharyngula clawed free of the flaming wreckage. His nauseating coat of babies was charred and smoking. Flames licked at the blackened flesh of the soulless brats. He tottered unsteadily upon his cloven hooves, a broken arm hanging limply at his side. His right eye was completely swollen shut. He spit out a mouthful of broken teeth and slime. “You have no right to deny me my rightful repast. Predator and prey alike, all creatures eat... and I am starving!”
Mary had no sympathy for the voracious demon. Launching herself at Pharyngula, she seized the monster’s throat with one hand. All but demolished by her previous attacks, the outmatched demon was in no shape to fight back. “Sorry, devil day care,” she quipped. “You may have a lot of mouths to feed, but you’re not stuffing them with human flesh!”
Her fingers dug into his scaly neck. Time to stop playing around, she decided, and finish this monster off for good. She drew back her fist, ready to knock the demon’s ugly kisser right off his shoulders. Mystical energy sparked and crackled around her clenched knuckles. Say good-bye to your head, baby-snatcher.
But before she could deliver the fatal blow, a blazing lightning bolt stabbed down from the heavens, striking both Mary and her defeated foe. A blinding flash of light briefly turned the night into day, and when the dazzling glare faded, no trace remained of either the girl or the demon. Only a smoking pile of rubble marked the site of their final confrontation. Bewildered cops and firefighters cautiously approached the shattered pavement. To their amazement, they found only a heap of blasted steel and concrete.
Mary Marvel—and her inhuman adversary—were gone.
“Help!” a female voice cried out in the night. “Somebody!”
A second later, a scruffy-looking lowlife darted out of an alley, clutching a designer handbag in one hand and an open switchblade in the other. The eight-inch blade caught a gleam from the streetlight at the comer. The fleeing mugger smirked as he made his getaway.
Not so fast, Jimmy thought. He stepped out from beneath the shelter of a recessed doorway and directly into the path of the knife-wielding thief. Arms akimbo, he struck a heroic pose, the better to show off his homemade super-hero costume. A blue cowl concealed the upper half of his face. A blue A was emblazoned on the bright red tunic he wore over a navy blue sweater and trousers. A wide yellow sash circled his waist. Red gloves and boots, snazzily trimmed with yellow, completed the outfit. The color scheme echoed Superman’s costume, perhaps a little too closely, but Jimmy didn’t think of it as stealing. More like an homage. He admired his reflection in the window of a closed boutique.
“Oughta watch where you’re going, dirtball,” he warned the mugger, deliberately lowering his voice an octave. “’Cause you never know when”—he paused dramatically—“Mr. Action will be on the scene!”
"Mister who?” The mugger halted in his tracks, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected advent of the masked vigilante, but he quickly went on the offensive. “Out of my way, jerkface,” he snarled as he slashed at Jimmy—that was, Mr. Action—with his knife.
I was hoping you’d try something like that, Jimmy thought. Sure enough, his torso stretched away from the striking blade. An elastic arm wrapped around the thief’s knife hand, trapping it. Thorny spines protruded from Jimmy’s knuckles only seconds before he slugged the flabbergasted mugger in the chin. Super-speed gave the punch enough oomph to knock the crook out cold with just one blow. He dropped onto the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes, his useless knife clattering against the cement.
“Hmm,” Jimmy murmured to himself. “Maybe I should’ve drawn it out a bit longer.” Ever since he’d decided to emulate Superman and use his mysterious new powers to combat evil, he had been looking forward to Mr. Action’s big debut. He’d spent hours designing his costume, while trying to come up with the perfect super-heroic alias. Now that he’d finally taken on his first villain, it had been over way too soon. “Definitely gotta work on the banter too.”
An attractive blonde, about Jimmy’s age, emerged from the alley. A sexy off-the-shoulder gold lame minidress and glittery disco belt suggested that she had been taking a shortcut home from a nightclub when the mugger had ambushed her. Although mussed up, she appeared more or less unharmed.
“Here you go, miss.” Jimmy retrieved the stolen handbag and handed it back to the young woman. “Are you all right?” ‘
“I think so.” She stared at the vanquished mugger. Judging from her wide-eyed reaction, Jimmy guessed that she had seen him take down the crook with his powers. “Ohmigod, that was amazing!”
“Er, thanks,” Jimmy replied, not quite sure what to say "next. Superman always made this look so easy. “I’m, um, glad to have—”
Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck and planted a grateful kiss against his lips. The spontaneous embrace caught him completely off guard. Her warm softness pressed against him. The heady odor of her perfume flooded his nostrils. For a few seconds, he forgot about everything except the moist lips smooching his own. He was almost too dumbfounded to kiss her back.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of bliss, the girl sheepishly pulled away from him. A fetching blush turned her cheeks pink. Jimmy guessed that he was just as red behind his mask. “I don’t know what came over me,” she offered by way of (non)explanation. “You’re just so .. . adorable.” Clutching her rescued handbag, she gave Jimmy a parting smile as she continued her trek home, sticking to the well-lit avenue this time. “Thank you!” “Oh, uh, sure....” Jimmy caught himself using his ordinary civilian voice, but the departing woman didn’t seem to notice. She was a full block away before Jimmy realized that he had never gotten her name. This minor lapse did little to curb his euphoria, however. Wow, he thought, the taste of the nameless beauty still lingering on his lips, this super-hero business is going even better than I dreamed!
Frantic footsteps intruded on his rapture. Spinning around, he spotted the defeated mugger escaping back into the alley. Drat! Jimmy thought. He must have come to while I was distracted. He threw out his arms, but, now that he was no longer in danger, his limbs stubbornly refused to stretch after the thief. Jimmy pursued the crook, only to discover that his super-speed had evaporated as well. Within moments, the fleet-footed criminal had disappeared into a shadowy maze of back alleys. Huffing and puffing, Jimmy reluctantly abandoned the chase.
The mugger’s escape took some of the luster off Mr. Action’s debut. Still, Jimmy reminded himself, I did get the girl her purse back. Not bad for a first try.
He’d do better next time.
Okay, Holly thought, I could get used to this.
She soaked luxuriously in a steaming hot tub, enjoying the Athenian Women’s Shelter’s well-equipped spa. She had the tub to herself, but she was not the only one taking advantage of the sumptuous facilities. Young women, clad only in towels or terry cloth robes, indulged in free massages and herbal treatments, coming and going at will. Holly’s own robe was draped over a nearby bench. Windows of polarized glass let in the sunlight while keeping out prying eyes. Potted plants, marble columns, incense, background music, and ewers of fresh ice water added to the relaxing atmosphere.
It all seemed too good to be true, but Holly had yet to find the catch. Despite her lingering suspicions, she’d been at the shelter for days now, and no one had tried to sell her into white slavery or convert her to some creepy cult. Nor had she spotted any hidden spy-cams streaming video to pervs on the Internet. Granted, statues and shrines to the goddess Athena could be found on every floor of the shelter, but there wasn’t any obvious brainwashing going on. Holly found herself in no hurry to leave such opulent accommodations. Sure beats camping out in a soggy cardboard box.. ..
“There you are!” A chirpy voice interrupted Holly’s musings. She looked up to see a svelte blonde, about her own age and size, strolling toward the tub. She wore the same belted white tunic, which Holly had learned was called a chiton, that served as standard attire around the shelter. Braided yellow pigtails gave her a slightly comic appearance, as did the goofy smile plastered across her face. Not exactly Holly’s type, but cute enough in her own way. A platter bearing a teapot and porcelain cup was expertly balanced atop the blonde’s head. “I brought you some gyokuro Japanese tea.” She knelt down and placed the platter at the edge of the tub. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself, Holly.”
“Oh, totally.” Holly was mildly embarrassed that she didn’t know the other woman’s name. The blonde looked oddly familiar, but there were so many new faces here. By Holly’s estimate, at least three dozen women currently resided in the shelter, all young, physically fit, and apparently unattached. The conspicuous absence of any single mothers or older women had struck Holly as curious, but it had been explained to her that, by Athena’s degree, women with children and senior citizens were beyond the purview of this particular institution. Holly wasn’t sure she entirely approved of that; still, as a newcomer and a guest, she didn’t feel comfortable telling Athena how to run her own shelter. At least not yet.
“Great!” The blonde poured Holly a cup of tea. Her squeaky voice made her sound like she had OD’d on helium. “This place is a godsend. It saved my life and that of just about every other woman here.” Making herself comfortable, she stretched out beside the tub, the better to converse with Holly. Her rosy-cheeked face shone with the fervor of a true believer. “I tell you, honey, before I got here I was a real mess ... and trust me, that’s the understatement of the year.”
Holly sampled the tea. It tasted sweet and not at all bitter. “Thanks. This is delicious.”
“Athena turned my life around,” the blonde continued. “She taught me to love and respect myself for me, you know?” She let out a theatrical sigh. “I was the kind of girl that always needed a man, even if he was the worst possible example of the species. My last boyfriend was a real maniac
Holly wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this unsolicited confessional. “Uh, I’m not really here because of..
“Honey, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” the blonde reassured her. “This is a pressure-free zone.” She sat up and slapped her forehead. “Oh gosh, where’s my manners? I didn’t introduce myself.” Smiling, she held out her hand. “I’m Harleen Quinzel.”
Holly did a spit take. The teacup slipped from her fingers, spilling its contents into the tub. Taken aback by the name, Holly didn’t even notice the dark tea infiltrating the swirling water around her.
Harleen Quinzel. . . ?
Harley Quinn!
The Joker’s girlfriend!
Holly had never run into the notorious Harley Quinn before, but Selina had, and she’d had nothing good to say about the Joker’s devoted moll, who was supposed to be just as bonkers as the Clown Prince of Crime himself. Wow, Harley wasn ’t joking when she said that her ex was a “maniac.” She just left out the “homicidal” part. Holly scrutinized the blonde’s features, mentally adding a domino mask, jester’s cap, and white clown makeup. She compared the mental portrait to the outlandish face on Harley Quinn’s Wanted posters. It could be the same woman, she acknowledged, but what’s she doing here in Metropolis when she should be in Arkham Asylum where she belongs?
©llSIOTaffli 73
Holly’s consternation must have shown on her face because Harley’s sunny expression darkened momentarily. “Don’t look at me like that,” she pouted, withdrawing her hand. “I told you, I’ve changed. I’m a new woman.” She smirked at Holly. “Besides, I’m not the one who spent her entire adult life sucking up to Catwoman.”
Holly gulped.
She knows who I am?
One minute Mary had been in Gotham City, about to knock that demon’s block off. The next, she found herself... somewhere else.
Rough stone walls enclosed a murky tunnel that appeared to have been carved out of the solid rock surrounding her. The granite floor beneath her boots had been worn smooth by the passage of centuries. Torches sputtered in polished brass sconces. A cool breeze carried a whiff of incense. Compared to the raging thunder and blaring sirens she had just left behind, the hushed stillness of the tunnel came as a shock.
“Where ... ?”
Disoriented by her abrupt shift in location, it took Mary a second to realize where she was. Holy Moley, she thought, it’s the Rock of Eternity!
The mystical sanctuary, which existed outside time and space, had once been the home of the wizard Shazam, before the Spectre slew the venerable mage. Mary had often visited these tunnels before, but, without her powers, she had been unable to reach the Rock after waking up from her coma. It wasn’t exactly the sort of place you could catch a bus or taxi to.
Yet here she was, without even trying. Mary looked around eagerly, hoping to find Freddy or her brother, but she appeared to have the dimly lit passageway all to herself. Even Pharyngula was nowhere to be seen.
“Hello?” Her voice echoed in the empty catacomb. “Is anyone here?”
A deep baritone answered her from the far end of the tunnel. “Just you and me, Mary.”
“Billy! Cap!” Her heart leapt at the sound of that familiar baritone. She rushed down the corridor past a row of grotesque stone idols representing the Seven Deadly Enemies of Man: Pride, Avarice, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony, Envy, and Sloth. The leering gargoyles were not just statues, but the actual Sins, trapped in stone by the wizard’s magic, but Mary was too excited to give the looming idols even a passing glance; after all, she had seen them many times before. Knowing exactly where she was now, she dashed through a framed archway into the cavernous throne room beyond. Jagged stalactites hung from the ceiling. A fuming brazier filled the grotto with the smell of incense. Magic mirrors, mounted upon the limestone walls, faced an imposing marble throne. Mary scarcely noticed any of these details, her attention riveted by the solitary figure standing beside the glowing brazier.
Her brother was waiting for her.
At least she thought it was her brother.
“Billy? Is that really you?”
She barely recognized him at first. Instead of his cheerful red and yellow uniform, Captain Marvel now wore a spotless white version of his traditional costume. Only the golden thunderbolt and trimmings remained the same. His revised garb was as chastely white as her own new look was black as night. And, like her, not only his apparel had changed. His short black hair had also turned snow-white and was now several inches longer. There was something different about his manner too. Even though her twin brother turned into an adult whenever he said the magic word, he had always kept his youthful exuberance and sunny disposition. But now the weight of the world seemed to rest heavily upon his broad shoulders. His wide face was etched with worry lines that Mary was certain she had never seen before. In a way, his austere, authoritative mien reminded her of the ageless wizard who had once presided over the throne room. The legacy of Shazam was stamped upon his features.
“It’s me, Mary,” he assured her. “After a fashion.” What did he mean by that? She longed to rush over and hug her brother, yet something held her back. He seemed so different, so reserved.
“Oh, Billy, what’s happened to you?”
He came forward to greet her. “It’s complicated, Mary. .After Shazam died, the world of magic was thrown into flux. All the power he controlled, all the dark forces he held at bay, ran amok. The old rules were rewritten. Malevolent entities, long barred from the mortal plane, began to find their way back into the world.”
“Like Pharyngula?” She glanced back at the Seven Deadly Sins, half expecting to see the baby-snatching demon petrified alongside them. “What happened to him anyway?”
“You needn’t worry about him any longer,” Captain Marvel assured her. “He’s been banished back to the netherworld.”
And good riddance, Mary thought. She tried to make sense of what she had just heard. “Does all this have something to do with why I lost my powers?”
Her brother nodded. “In order to heal itself, the power of Shazam drew upon the Marvels, taking back the gifts it had bestowed on us before. You and Freddy both lost your powers, while as for me ... Well, the power needed a new vessel here at the Rock of Eternity. Someone had to fill the void left by the wizard’s absence.”
“You?” Mary guessed.
“Me.” He smiled sadly, and for a moment, Mary thought
she spied a trace of the boyish hero she remembered. “Unlike before, when I would wield the power of the gods, now I am the keeper of that power.”
Just like the wizard used to be, Mary realized. “But you’re still Billy in there, right?” She contemplated his snowy locks and grave demeanor. “You seem ... different, like you’ve changed somehow. What’s this power done to you?” " 1
“I grew up,” he said.
Something about that simple declaration struck her as immeasurably sad. “And Freddy?” she asked.
“The power still needs a champion on Earth,” Marvel explained. “Freddy is on a quest to prove himself worthy of that mantle. If he passes his trials, if he survives, he will become the World’s Mightiest Mortal.” He looked somberly into Mary’s eyes. “It may be some time before you see him again, if ever.”
Mary was shocked by her brother’s ominous prediction. How can he say that so calmly? she thought in dismay. The Marvel Family always sticks together!
Or we used to.
“What about me?” she asked, feeling a lump in her throat. “Where do I fit into all these changes?”
“That’s why I brought you here.” He sat down upon the marble throne. “I’m afraid we have a problem. A big one.”
Mary tensed. She didn’t like the sound of this. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“I watched your battle against Pharyngula,” he informed her solemnly. “Frankly, it left me concerned.”
“Why? I was just doing what I used to do. I was fighting evil.” And doing a pretty kick-ass job of it, she recalled with pride. What’s Billy’s problem?
“It’s the way you went about it.” He shook his head in disapproval. “I’ve never seen you so brutal, so savage. Even after Pharyngula had no more fight left in him, you didn’t let up. You looked like you were on the verge of killing him.”
So? she thought indignantly. He was a flesh-eating demon, wasn’t he?
“Look at you, Mary,” Captain Marvel said severely. “Even your uniform is darker than before.” He eyed her new wardrobe with obvious concern. “What’s happened to you?”
I could ask you the same thing, she thought. In fact, I did.
Still, she figured he deserved an explanation. “The power I have now came from Black Adam.” She wondered briefly how Adam had managed to retain his powers after she and Freddy had lost theirs. Perhaps it was because he derived his strength from an entirely different pantheon of gods? “He surrendered it to me willingly.”
“You whatV Captain Marvel lurched to his feet, clearly appalled by her revelation. Apparently his magic mirrors had missed that particular development. “Are you out of your mind? You have no idea what that tainted power could do to you!”
Mary bristled at his tone. This was not the joyful family reunion she had been praying for. She hadn’t spent so much time searching for Billy just to be lectured to. “What was I supposed to do?” she shot back. “I woke up from a coma, I had no powers, and I was totally alone.” An anger she had never dared acknowledge came pouring out of her. It was like it had been simmering inside her all this time, just waiting to erupt. An aggrieved inner voice egged her on. “I couldn’t find Freddy; I couldn’t find you.... What else was I to do?”
“Start a brand-new life?” her brother suggested gently. Overcoming his initial shock and outrage, he adopted a milder tone. He stepped forward and laid a comforting hand upon her shoulder. His icy blue eyes regarded her with compassion ... or was it just pity? “Mary, did you ever think that maybe it was destiny that you lost your powers? That you weren’t meant to have them forever?” Mary couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You don’t know that,” she whispered hoarsely, getting more worked up by the moment. Her face flushed with emotion. “Did you ever think that perhaps my getting Black Adam’s power was precisely what was supposed to happen?” Raising her voice, she slapped his hand away from her shoulder. He staggered backward, blindsided by the rebuff. “You don’t know what it was like for me before, after you abandoned me in that miserable hospital.” Painful memories stoked the seething resentment growing inside her. “I have power again, Billy. And I’m going to use it for good, just like before!”
She clenched her fists. First Madame Xanadu, she thought furiously. Now my own brother! They seemed determined to keep her weak and helpless, like she was still just a child who couldn’t be trusted to fight evil on her own. Well, I’ll show them,
* % She launched herself toward the ceiling. Shattered stalactites rained down onto the throne room as she smashed through solid rock like a human missile. Falling rubble knocked over the flaming brazier, spilling burning coals onto the floor. The shock wave generated by her blastoff cracked the magic mirrors, and the Seven Deadly Sins grinned evilly. Pride and Wrath looked particularly pleased. “And if you can’t approve of that, then I’ll pursue my destiny alone!”
“Mary! Wait!” her brother called, but Mary wasn’t listening anymore. She was her own woman now, not just Captain Marvel’s perky teenage sister. With the awesome powers at her disposal, she could easily find her own way back to the mortal plane. Her fists drilled a brand-new tunnel through the Rock of Eternity until she burst out into the timeless ether outside, leaving behind a gaping cavity in the floating stone spire. Spectral shapes and apparitions drifted like cloud formations through an empty gray void. Her brother’s voice receded into the distance until it vanished altogether. “Maryyyyyyyy ..
She was alone again, but that didn’t seem quite so bad anymore.
Look out, world. Here I come!
Titans Tower occupied an island in the harbor, not far from the Golden Gate Bridge. Jimmy could see the famous bridge from the top floor of the gleaming, T-shaped high-rise that served as the headquarters for the youthful champions known as the Teen Titans. One-way bulletproof windows offered a spectacular view of the misty bay below.
“Is this your idea of a joke, Olsen?” Robin asked. Batman’s sidekick eyed “Mr. Action” dubiously. An ebony cloak was draped over Robin’s dark red uniform. A few years younger than Jimmy, the slim, athletic teenager already had an impressive reputation as a crime fighter. His black domino mask failed to conceal his skepticism.
“Um, no?” Jimmy replied, slightly taken aback by the Boy Wonder’s reaction. He had caught a red-eye flight from Metropolis just to make this appointment with Robin, who currently served as the leader of the Titans. To Jimmy’s disappointment, none of the other Titans seemed to be around. Guess they had other plans for the weekend.
Robin still seemed unconvinced. He glanced around the high-tech conference room. A chrome silver round table held seats for the team’s shifting membership, including a reinforced steel chair for Cyborg. A flat-screen monitor covered the far wall. “Seriously, is Lois Lane hiding with a video camera somewhere?”
“Listen to me,” Jimmy insisted. “I’m not here for the Planet. I want to join the Teen Titans.”
He had given the matter plenty of thought. As promising as his solo career as a super hero looked to be, he could only imagine the awesomeness he’d bring to a group dynamic. The only question had been figuring out what team would be right for him. The Outsiders were too angsty, the Doom Patrol was too weird, and as for the Justice League... Well, Jimmy was humble enough to realize that he probably needed to start out in the minors before working his way up to the majors. The Teen Titans, which had started out as a team composed entirely of the Justice League’s youthful sidekicks, had struck him as the perfect place for Mr. Action.
Robin, on the other hand, seemed to have his doubts. “Jimmy, no offense, but—”
“I know,” Jimmy interrupted him. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t believe me either. But give me a chance and I’ll show you what I can do.” He put up his dukes. “I’m not just ‘Jimmy Olsen, cub reporter’ anymore. I’m Mr. Action.” “Mr. Action?” Robin echoed. “Wow. I guess all the good names really are taken.”
At least I’m not named after a bird, Jimmy thought. “Attack me,” he challenged Robin. “Don’t be afraid. I want you to attack me so I can show you my powers.”
Besides, that’s the only way they work.
But instead of testing him, Robin just sighed. “Okay, let’s talk about what’s going on here, Jimmy.”
“I need you to take me seriously,” Jimmy complained. What was Robin’s problem anyway? I bet he never treats Beast Boy like this!
“I know you’re tight with Superman,” Robin said patiently. “Sometimes, when we have a close relationship with, say, a father figure who also happens to be famous...” Jimmy saw where he was going with this. “This isn’t about Superman!” Or Batman, for that matter. “I have powers. I don’t know why or how, but I have them and I want to use them to help people!”
His sincerity seemed to convince Robin. “All right,” the costumed youth conceded reluctantly. “I’ll... attack you.”
“Great!” Jimmy enthused. He adopted a martial arts pose he’d seen in a movie once. “Let’s do thi—”
Robin’s heel shot past his defenses, nailing him in the chin. The powerful kick knocked Jimmy backward onto his butt. The hard tile floor made Jimmy wish that they had sparred on a mat instead. I didn’t even see that coming!
“I’m sorry!” Robin said, sounding even more mortified than Jimmy. “I thought you’d duck!”
Jimmy massaged his aching chin. “I don’t understand. I should’ve stretched or something....”
“I didn’t hit you that hard,” Robin said, not quite getting it. He reached down and helped Jimmy to his feet. “Are you okay? Do you need to visit the infirmary?”
Jimmy tried to make sense of what had just occurred. “Wait... this happened before in Metropolis. These guys in Suicide Slum attacked me, but it wasn’t until my life was in danger...” A sudden realization dawned in his eyes. “Wait a minute,” he accused Robin. “You held back.” “Of course I did,” Robin admitted. “You think I want Superman pissed off at me when I send his pal back to Metropolis in a neck brace?”
Jimmy realized that he was fighting a losing battle. “There’s no chance I can get you to attack me for real, is there?” "
Robin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jimmy. If it makes you feel any better, we’re not really looking for any more Titans right now. We’re cramped enough as it is.”
Jimmy wondered if that was true, or if Robin was just being polite.
“Let’s not have an American Idol moment,” the Boy Wonder said sympathetically. “You’re a photographer, and a damn good one. Don’t discount the impact you make on people’s lives.” He shook Jimmy’s hand. “Stick with what you’re good at.”
Jimmy appreciated Robin’s attempts to soften the blow, but he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet. “No, Robin. All I want to do is help people.”
Even if he wasn’t cut out to be a super hero, he knew he’d been given these powers for a reason. One way or another, he was going to find out what they were for ... or die trying.
Jin earsplitting explosion greeted Mary Marvel’s return to the mortal plane. Descending from the night sky, she saw flames and smoke erupting from the uptown branch of the Gotham National Bank. The blistering heat from the fire could be felt even high above the city. Thick black smoke filled her nostrils. A glance at a clock tower informed her that it was nearly three in the morning. Thank goodness, she thought. At this hour, it was unlikely that anyone had been inside the bank when it blew up. Probably no need to search for casualties.
Sirens heralded the approach of police cars and fire trucks. Assuming that the authorities could cope with the blaze on their own, Mary scanned the scene from the air, looking for some clue as to the origin of the explosion. Foul play seemed like a safe bet; banks seldom exploded on their own, especially in Gotham City.
She wasn’t the only one taking in the show. Her eyes lit up as she spied a lanky figure watching the fireworks from the rooftop of a five-story building across the street from the burning bank. Embossed purple question marks, sewn into the fabric of a dapper green suit, tie, and bowler hat, immediately identified the onlooker as Batman’s longtime nemesis Edward Nigma, aka the Riddler. He lowered a pair of high-powered binoculars. A purple domino mask failed to conceal his avid interest in the spectacular conflagration. Intent upon the fire, he appeared unaware of the black-clad super heroine spying on him from above.
“Well, well!” She chuckled to get his attention. “What have we here?” After her infuriating reunion with Billy at the Rock of Eternity, she welcomed the opportunity to take out her frustration on a deserving target. “Explosions, alarms, and one big-name Gotham bad guy just begging for an ass-kicking!”
To her slight disappointment, the Riddler appeared unruffled by her arrival. “I would agree with your assessment, young lady,” he said glibly, while brazenly attempting to look up her skirt, “although it appears I should make you aware of certain facts before you—hey!"
Swooping down from the sky, she nabbed him in midsentence. His bowler hat went flying, exposing receding brown hair, as she grabbed on to his collar and plucked him off the rooftop. Startled, he dropped his binoculars, which tumbled downward while she carried him high up into the air, hundreds of feet above his former perch. The lost spy-glasses crashed loudly onto the roof below.
“Before you jump to conclusions and turn me into street pizza, my dear,” he said calmly, despite the fact that he was currently dangling from a great height, “although I sincerely hope that such a virtuous Girl Scout as yourself would never do such a thing, I must inform you that, as a duly licensed private investigator, I don’t commit crimes any longer. I solve them.”
“What are you saying?” Mary asked, irked by his persistently chipper attitude. ‘'That you’ve reformed!” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. That’s what Black Adam said too. Before he pounded me into a coma.
The Riddler stuck to his story. “Ask Batman if you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t,” she said confidently. “I saw you. You were at the crime scene before the police.” She gave him a good shaking. “Riddle your way out of that one!”
“It’s no mystery,” he insisted. “Like you, I heard the explosion and came to investigate.” Twisting in her grasp, he pointed down at the sidewalk far below. “Look! See that muddy trail leading away from the bank? It will most assuredly lead us to whoever’s really behind this outrage.”
Mary descended to the rooftop to get a closer look. To her annoyance, she saw that a trail of thick brown glop did indeed stretch from the rear of the bank to the mouth of a secluded alley a few blocks away. Given that there were no parks or gardens nearby, the large quantity of mud looked distinctly out of place. Maybe the Riddler was actually onto something.
Shrugging free of her grip, he dropped back onto his feet. “I was just about to follow it before your timely arrival,” he continued, retrieving his hat from where it had fallen before. In his emerald outfit, he looked like a tall, skinny leprechaun. “What do you say, Mary Marvel? Care to play girl detective?”
Mary scowled. She had been looking forward to teaching this irritating clown a lesson. But what if he was telling the truth, and the real culprit was getting away as they spoke? “Okay,” she said reluctantly, her hands upon her hips. “You’ve bought yourself five more unbruised minutes, but don’t expect me to trust you, Riddler.” Taking hold of his shoulder, she dived off the roof and zoomed toward the alley in question. His terrified yelp gave her a bit of satisfaction before they touched down onto the grimy floor of the alley. “Once a criminal, always a criminal.” He recovered his composure far too quickly for her liking. “You don’t believe people can change, little miss Mary?” He scoped her out by the glow of the streetlights.
“Then answer me this: What used to be bright and sunny, but is now black all over?”
She knew he was alluding to her recent makeover. “Point taken,” she conceded. “But consider yourself warned. I might not be such a Girl Scout anymore.”
“I’ll forgo asking you for cookies, then,” he quipped. “But about your new look, Mary, I have to say I’m not really a big fan.” He looked down his nose at her sleek black dress and boots. “A little too Dark Knight for my tastes.” .
His cocky demeanor still nettled Mary, but she tried not to take it personally. Years of dealing with Batman had probably rendered the Riddler immune to intimidation; he couldn’t have lasted long in Gotham otherwise. “Hey, there’s something I don’t need,” she shot back. “Fashion tips from a goofball in a green derby.”
' * “No need to get defensive,” Nigma chided her. Bowing at the waist, he stepped aside to let Mary lead the way into the murky alley. “Ladies first.”
Mary suspected that the Riddler’s chivalrous gesture had less to with courtesy than with his own cowardly sense of self-preservation. Sure, she thought, hide behind the bulletproof girl.
With the police and firefighters still preoccupied with containing the fire, they had the telltale smears of mud all to themselves. As she marched deeper into the alley, leaving the streetlights behind, she wondered why someone would blow up a bank on purpose. To make a political statement, or just to destroy all evidence of a bank heist? And what was the deal with all this mud anyway? There weren’t any mucky footsteps on the ground, only scattered clumps of slick brown goo.
“Intriguing,” the Riddler observed, tagging along behind her. “Most intriguing.”
Mary had no idea what he was finding so fascinating. Looking around, she didn’t see any obvious clues, just a dirty alley full of rusty trash cans, empty liquor bottles,
and a soggy cardboard box that was probably some wino’s home address. Cigarette butts, fast-food wrappers, and beer cans littered the uneven pavement. Obscene graffiti and gang signs were spray-painted onto sooty brick walls. Rickety fire escapes climbed toward the rooftops, but nobody seemed to be using them to make a getaway. A stray cat hissed at Mary from the shadows. The less said about the smell, the better.
A glimpse of the Bat-Signal, shining brightly through the smoke-filled sky, prompted her to wonder why Batman was nowhere to be seen. Probably dealing with, some bigger emergency, she guessed. Maybe with the Justice league. For all she knew, Gotham’s premier vigilante was helping the League fend off an alien invasion at the moment. I suppose not even Batman can be everywhere at once.
'' Disappointingly, the trail led to a literal dead end. A high concrete wall, topped by concertina wire, blocked their path. A sizable heap of mud, large enough to fill a wheelbarrow or two, was deposited at the base of the wall. Bats Suck! was scrawled on the dirty concrete. Jokers Rule! Mary could easily fly over or smash through the barrier, of course, but that wasn’t the point. Their quarry had given them the slip.
“End of the line,” the Riddler remarked, stating the obvious. He slipped past Mary to examine the mound of mud. Extracting a customized green and purple pencil from his pocket, he poked the gunk experimentally. “Although, you know, I’m beginning to suspect that this isn’t actually mud at all.”
Mary eyed him suspiciously. Was he just stringing her along for some reason? “Okay, Sherlock, what is it?”
Before he could answer, the pencil was sucked from his grasp. He jumped back from the quivering sludge as it suddenly came to life before their eyes. The amorphous muck rose up from the pavement to take on a vaguely humanoid form. Beady red eyes ogled Mary from a crude approximation of a face. A pair of pulsating slits provided a mere suggestion of a nose. The mouth was just an open gash beneath the nostrils. Rows of jagged ceramic shards gnashed together like teeth. Broken pieces of pencil were spat onto the ground. A phlegmy voice answered Mary’s question.
“Clay!”
Of course! Mary kicked herself for not figuring it out earlier. The being before her was one of Batman’s most freakish foes, a malleable mass of malevolence that had once been an unscrupulous treasure hunter named Matt Hagen. Now better known as ...
“Clayface!”
“You bet, honey!” the villain gurgled. Drawing the excess sludge back into his person, he expanded until he towered over both Mary and the Riddler. The self-proclaimed sleuth scurried behind Mary, shamelessly using her as a shield. Clayface oozed forward menacingly. ‘Too bad you and Nigma couldn’t leave well enough alone!”
Clayface surged at them like a tidal wave, engulfing them in a flood of viscous muck, which clung to Mary like a sticky mixture of quicksand and wet cement. The loathsome avalanche tore the Riddler away from her. He flailed wildly, struggling to keep his head above the suffocating clay. “Mary!” he squealed like the rat that he was. “Where are you?”
“Here!” The squishy clay was everywhere, in her hair, on her face, enveloping her entire body. She swallowed a mouthful by mistake, and gagged in disgust. Clayface tasted worse than the mud pies she had crafted as a child. She coughed up the gritty sludge. “I’m here ... and I’m not happy!”
That was putting it mildly. First dead babies, she thought, now this! The clay hardened around her like concrete, squeezing her tightly. Wet goo seeped into her gloves and boots. It felt cold and damp against her skin. When did bad guys get so gross?
“You should have stayed outta Gotham, babe!” Clay-
ElffllfBaWM 89
face gloated in her ear. “You ain’t dirty enough for this town!”
“Is that so?” Mary said, her temper flaring. “We’ll see about that!”
Enough was enough. Exerting her strength, she broke loose of Clayface’s slimy embrace, sending broken chunks of clay in all directions. Bellowing wetly, the monster hurled a glutinous fist at her, but she deftly evaded the punch so that it splattered uselessly against the wall behind her. Taking to the air, she yanked the Riddler free as well and tossed him, none too gently, out of harm’s way. The empty cardboard shelter cushioned his landing, which Mary figured was probably more than he deserved. “Atta girl, Mary!” he cheered her on from the sidelines. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back!”
Yeah, right, Mary thought.
* She didn’t waste another moment on her worthless partner. There was a bigger mess that needed to be cleaned up right now.
“Think you can sucker punch Mary Marvel, Clay-face?” Calling upon the speed of Hera, as well as Isis’s divine mastery of the winds, she flew circles around Clay-face at faster and faster speeds, until she generated a whirling cyclone that sucked up every last clump of the monster’s gelatinous substance, along with any nearby trash. Clayface raged inside the spinning vortex, but his profane threats were drowned out by the roaring whirlwind, which lifted him off the ground and sent him rocketing into orbit. “Wrong!”
Slowing to a more leisurely pace, Mary dismissed the turbulent winds. A canvas bag crashed to the ground in the tornado’s wake. Coins, greenbacks, and expensive jewelry spilled onto the floor of the alley, immediately attracting the Riddler’s attention. “Case closed, Mary!” he chortled gleefully. “I’ve uncovered the loot!”
“And I shot Clayface into outer space,” she replied, unimpressed by her partner’s dubious achievement. She landed nimbly on the pavement and wiped a few leftover traces of Clayface from her face and costume. Cut off from the monster’s animating intelligence, the remaining clumps of clay flaked off her easily. One of her new outfit’s many magical properties, she had come to realize, was its preternatural ability to repel dirt and other stains. Guess the gods want me looking my best.
“Outer space?” the Riddler parroted. He glanced up at the heavens. Mary noticed that the billowing black smoke was already beginning to disperse; apparently Gotham’s Bravest already had the fire under control. “A bit extreme, don’t you think?”
“Was it?” The question gave her pause; to be honest, she had hurled Clayface into orbit without even thinking about it. “Was that too much?” She felt a twinge of guilt. Despite his monstrous appearance, Matt Hagen wasn’t actually a soulless demon like Pharyngula, just a bizarrely ' ftiutated human being. Maybe she should have gone easier on him?
Then again, an inner voice soothed her conscience, it’s not like he didn ’t have it coming.
“No biggie,” she insisted, more to herself than to the Riddler. “He’s just dirt, and dirt will fall back to Earth sooner or later.”
“Maybe,” Nigma replied, not sounding entirely convinced. Unlike her, his once-dapper outfit was now liberally coated with damp clay. He wiped his filthy hands on his trousers and straightened his tie. “Certainly, Hagen has proved ridiculously durable over the years. And yet... I’ve spent enough time around Arkham to recognize when someone is out of control. And I’m not talking about Clayface.”
Billy said the same thing about me, Mary recalled uncomfortably, after I trashed that demon. She shrugged, trying to pretend that the Riddler’s snide remark hadn’t hit a nerve. The smug former villain was the last person she wanted to confide in. “I admit that I don’t really know my own strength anymore.”
The Riddler smiled slyly, like she wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already figured out on his own. “If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion,” he said, pushing his luck, “perhaps you should consider seeking a mentor? Maybe someone who specializes in magic ... or perhaps anger management?”
Molecules loomed like small moons as Donna Troy and her new companions began their search for Ray Palmer. Encased in a transparent sphere of shimmering energy, courtesy of the Monitor’s virtually unlimited technology, they shrank in size much as the Atom himself once did, discovering a whole new realm of existence at the subatomic level. Outside the sphere, electrons whizzed about spinning nuclei, looking like sparking comets. Atoms of various shapes and sizes collided with each other, sometimes linking to form larger molecules that resembled elaborate glowing constellations. Everything was in constant motion. Quantum particles blinked in and out of existence according to the capricious laws of probability. Donna thought she saw an asteroid-sized atom of oxygen suck two smaller hydrogen atoms into its orbit, forming a single molecule of water, but she couldn’t be sure. Chemistry had never been her strong suit.
Is this what atoms and molecules really look like at this scale, she wondered, or is my brain just processing all this bizarre sensory input into images I can sort of compre-
hend? She suspected the latter; human eyes weren’t built to see the world this way. We’ve probably already shrunk beyond the wavelengths of visible light.
“So where exactly are we supposed to be going again?” Jason Todd asked. He tapped his foot impatiently against the floor of the sphere, seemingly unimpressed by the mind-boggling sceneiy outside. “And how are we supposed to find the Atom in all this sci-fi craziness?”
Donna guessed that Jason was feeling out of his element. He was more used to beating up crooks in Gotham than embarking on microscopic odysseys. She, on the other hand, had already been from one end of the universe to another... and then some.
The Monitor spoke slowly, as though to a small child. “Before he disappeared, Ray Palmer often explored this so-called nanoverse. According to my research, he spent
* some time in one particular subatomic realm ... to which we now travel.”
“There’s no guarantee we’ll actually find the Atom there,” Donna admitted. “The nanoverse is a big place, relatively speaking, but it’s as good a place as any to start looking for him.”
Jason shrugged. “If you say so,” he said dubiously. A crimson mask once more concealed his features. “Anyway, don’t look now, but it seems like we’re getting somewhere.” Outside the sphere, molecules broke apart into atoms, which dissolved into swirls of pulsating quarks, gluons, bosons, and neutrinos. A single particle soon filled the horizon, growing larger and larger as the sphere and its passengers shrank to meet it. Oceans and continents covered the surface of what now appeared to be a full-sized planet. As the sphere came in for a landing amidst a vast, verdant jungle, Donna found it hard to grasp that this entire world was actually infinitesimal in size.
“Indeed,” the Monitor confirmed. “We have reached our destination. Let us pray that it shall be the first and final stop on our journey.”
“Yeah, right,” Jason muttered. “We should be so lucky.”
The golden sphere dissolved into the ether, leaving the trio standing in a sunny meadow surrounded by dense undergrowth. The tropical atmosphere was hot and muggy. Insects buzzed in the background. The torrid temperature came as a jolt after the autumnal chill of the cemetery back in San Francisco; Donna didn’t envy Jason his heavy black leather gear. He must be sweltering. Glancing up she saw that the light and heat came from a glowing yellow orb high in the sky. A solitary photon, she speculated, or some sort of radioactive particle?
It took Donna a moment to realize how small they were compared to the scenery around them. Leafy ferns the size of pine trees towered over them. Grass blades as wide as broadswords stretched above their heads, hemming them in. A brightly colored bird flew by overhead; it looked like it was big enough to carry any one of them off in its talons. Donna hoped that it wasn’t hunting for a snack.
Was there a reason that the Monitor had chosen to bring them into this world in such diminutive proportions? Frankly, Donna didn’t like the idea of being Lilliputian-sized in an alien jungle. Who knew what kind of predators were lurking in this lush, primeval wilderness? Wouldn’t it be safer if they were bigger than, say, field mice?
She turned to ask the Monitor for an explanation, but a sudden rustling in the greenery put them all on guard. “Looks like we’ve got company,” Jason said. He drew a twelve-inch Bowie knife from his belt. “Wanna bet they’re not friendly?”
“We don’t know that,” she rebuked him, but assumed a defensive posture just in case. She heard multiple life-forms moving in the bushes all around them. “Remember, no unnecessary violence!”
Jason smirked. “Don’t tell me that,” he quipped. “Tell them!'
A party of armed warriors burst through the high grass walls, surrounding them on all sides. Donna blinked in surprise. She wasn’t quite sure what sort of beings she had
WN Si
expected to find on a subatomic particle, but the last thing she’d expected was ... ape-men riding giant frogs?
But that was exactly what confronted them now. Shaggy primates, who vaguely resembled Earth’s ancient Neanderthals, sat astride massive amphibians the size of hippopotamuses, holding on to the reins of their warty mounts. Crudely sewn animal skins were reinforced by breastplates and armbands carved from polished bone. The warriors brandished primitive spears, clubs, and shields. Deep-set eyes regarded the strangers with undisguised suspicion.
They ’re roughly the same size we are, Donna realized. That must be why the Monitor shrank us down so far, so that we could more easily communicate with the natives.
“Name yourself, outlanders!” one of the ape-men demanded. An intricate carved ivory helmet and voluminous fur cloak suggested that he was in command of the warriors. His sloping forehead and prognathous jaw reminded Donna of Gnarrk, a good-hearted caveman who had once fought beside the Teen Titans. The fangs of some deadly predator dangled on a cord around the chieftain’s neck. “How dare you invade our kingdom?”
“Please, we come in peace!” Donna held up her empty hands as a gesture of goodwill. “We are seeking a friend of ours. You may know him as Ray Palmer, or perhaps the Atom.”
“You will find no friends here!” the chieftain growled. “And we will not betray Ray Palmer to the likes of you!” He glared venomously at the Monitor. “I know a demon when I see one!”
The Monitor bristled at the charge, “I am Monitor, not a shadow-demon.” He strode aggressively toward the mounted ruler. “If you know where the Atom may be found, you must tell us immediately.”
“Hold your tongue, abomination.” The chieftain goaded his frog forward to meet the Monitor. He beat his fist against his chest. “I am Winn-Dar, ruler of this domain, and I do not answer to the commands of outsiders!”
Poison sprayed from swollen glands above the huge amphibian’s bulging eyes. The toxic discharge splattered harmlessly against the Monitor’s personal force field, but the powerful alien frowned in annoyance. His right hand glowed ominously as he pointed at the frog.
“No!” Donna pleaded. She stepped between the Monitor and the indignant chieftain, anxious to keep the situation from escalating out of control. “Hear us out, I beg you. Give words a chance before bloodshed!”
Jason stepped past her. “Nice try, Donna, but there’s only one language these missing links will understand.” His carbon steel knife gleamed in the light of the micro-sun.
Winn-Dar spied the blade at once. “Attack!” he commanded his warriors, who lunged at the intruders from all sides. Furious whoops and war cries precluded any further discussion, and Donna reluctantly went on the defensive. 'A monstrous frog leapt toward her, seemingly intent on crushing her beneath its webbed feet, but she blocked its descent with one hand. Grabbing hold of the amphibian’s clammy belly, she hurled it over her head into a throng of warriors behind her. The frog’s startled rider let out a yelp as his steed crashed headfirst into his own kinsmen, scattering them across the meadow.
Another frog-rider bounded at her from the left. “Die, she-devil!” the mounted hominid bellowed as he swung the jawbone of an unknown beast at Donna’s head. Amazon training came to the fore as she easily parried the blow with her bracelet. The crude weapon shattered against the silver wristband. “Sorry,” she said as she knocked him out of his saddle with a super-strong right cross. He was out like a light before he hit the ground. Riderless, the panicked frog jumped over Donna into the safety of the beckoning jungle.
A few yards away, another warrior charged at the Monitor from behind. “Rrraahhhh! ” he roared as he raised his club to batter the stranger’s brains in. But the Monitor casually teleported out of the way so that the warrior’s club swung through empty air instead, leaving the baffled ape-man gaping in confusion.
“Can you conclude this bestial melee soon?” the Monitor asked as he reappeared a few feet away from where he had been standing before. His arms were clasped behind his back while he surveyed the battle with obvious boredom. “The longer we must search for Ray Palmer, the less likely we shall find him in time.”
“Do not speak his name, foul creature!” Winn-Dar shouted. He shook his stone-tipped spear in the Monitor’s direction. “If it was from you he fled, then let your hunt end here!”
Intent upon the inhuman Monitor, the chieftain was caught off guard when Jason sprang at him from the side, knocking him off his steed. They tumbled together onto the floor of the meadow, Winn-Dar’s body cushioning Jason’s fall. The ivory helmet tumbled from the Neanderthal’s thick skull as Jason softened him up with a vicious punch to the jaw.
“Listen, jackass!” Jason knelt atop the fallen ape-man, his knee pressing down onto Winn-Dar’s chest. He waved his knife in his opponent’s face. “It’s obvious Ray Palmer is a friend of yours. Great. Us too.”
“Jason, wait!’’ Donna deflected an oncoming spear with her bracelet as she spotted the potentially tragic drama unfolding only a few yards away. Along with the combatants, she froze at the sight of the chieftain’s extreme peril. The other warriors looked on uncertainly, anxious over the fate of their leader. Donna wished she could assure them that Jason meant Winn-Dar no harm, but she wasn’t sure that was the case. The former Robin didn’t play by the old rules anymore.
To his credit, the defeated ruler refused to let the knife-wielding youth intimidate him. “You claim to be friends of Palmer?” He snorted derisively. “That would be easier to believe without your blade in my face!”
“You asked for it,” Jason replied, “with the lousy welcome you gave us.” He nodded at Donna and the Monitor. “Now, my friends here are reasonable people, but I’m not, and I’m tired of being jerked around.” He poked the tip of the dagger into the chieftain’s nostril. “So tell me where to find the Atom or your nose will bleed out the back of your skull!”
Is he blujfing? Donna wondered. By the gods, I hope so! Winn-Dar stared cross-eyed at the knife. A trickle of blood ran from his nostril. The entire meadow seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what happened next. Donna considered tackling Jason, but even at super-speed she wasn’t certain she could stop the other Titan from killing his hostage if he really wanted to. Jason had pretty fast reflexes—and what seemed like a hair-trigger temper.
“Gods below,” Winn-Dar exclaimed. “You really mean it!” He surprised Donna by laughing heartily. A smile transformed his Neanderthal features. “Hah! I did not think the world of humans produced such warriors!”
Jason backed off and helped the chieftain to his feet. “It produced Ray Palmer, didn’t it?”
“That it did,” Winn-Dar agreed. He gestured to his troops, who obediently lowered their weapons. “Although I fear your world has also done its best to crush his spirit.” Satisfied that the battle was over, Donna approached Jason and the chieftain. “This is true,” she admitted, recalling the heartbreaking events that had afflicted the Atom in recent years. “He has seen much sorrow in our realm.” Winn-Dar nodded gravely. “He did not speak of it, but his woe was plain to see when he passed through here some time ago. In years past, he was a merry hero who once did my people a great service, but now he seems to have lost his way. We told him that only powerful magicks could undo the doom that had befallen them.”
The Monitor joined the conference. “And where would one seek such magicks?”
“For that, you must consult the shaman.” The chieftain turned to address his people. “Bring forth the Wise One!” Waving blades of grass parted behind the warriors and gfsutif noun se
a newcomer entered the meadow. A hooded cloak, dyed a brilliant shade of red, hid the shaman’s features. Small and slight of build, the nameless mystic walked softly through the grass. Charms and amulets adorned her slender arms and neck. A necklace of cowrie shells rattled gently as she approached them. Winn-Dar and his warriors bowed their heads in respect.
Jason shook his head in disbelief. “You gotta be joking! We’re not seriously planning to take our marching orders from some pint-sized witch doctor?”
“Quiet,” Donna shushed him. “On Paradise Island, one learns to heed the counsel of the oracles.” She bowed her own head to the hooded figure and pressed her palms together, forming a steeple beneath her chin. “We are honored by your presence.”
“Hail, travelers,” the shaman greeted them in a high-pitched, mellifluous voice. She drew back her hood, revealing the elfin features of a young girl who appeared no more than six years old. More evolved than her Neanderthal cohorts, her waifish face was fine-boned and delicate. Large golden eyes hinted at wisdom far beyond her apparent years. Straight red hair fell past her graceful shoulders. Arched eyebrows gave her a distinctly fey appearance. “I am K’Dessa, high priestess of this realm.”
“You?” Jason laughed at the very idea. He knelt down in front of the little girl. “You’re barely old enough to—” K’Dessa didn’t let him finish, “I was igniting suns when your people had fins, Jason Todd.” Arms crossed boldly over her chest, the tiny shaman met Jason’s startled gaze with total confidence. “Yes, I know who you are. I also know from whence you and your companions have come, and what you desire. Ancient prophecies foretold of three travelers who would become the ‘Challengers of the Unknown.”' Her golden eyes gleamed with occult knowledge. “The Ray Palmer passed this way on his journey, but he has left the inner worlds behind. You must seek him amidst the myriad Earths of your own plane of existence.”
Myriad Earths? It took Donna a moment to realize what K’Dessa meant. “The Multiverse?”
Unlike most mortals, Donna was well aware that there were at least fifty-two alternate versions of Earth, located in parallel universes separated by sturdy dimensional barriers. Had the Atom somehow learned how to slip past those barriers?
“Aye,” K’Dessa confirmed. “Unable to find peace here, he left to find a new life on another Earth.”
“Which Earth?” the Monitor demanded. “Which universe?”
K’Dessa shook her head. “That I cannot say. I know only that the spirits have spoken to me of a great disaster that only the Ray Palmer can avert. Find him you must, so allow me to send you on your way.” She raised her hands above her head. An unearthly green glow radiated from her childish form. The cowrie shell necklace rattled a percussive melody. Unseen voices chanted from the ether, and the world of K’Dessa and her people began to shrink away before Donna’s eyes. “Farewell, Challengers. And should you encounter the Ray Palmer in time, tell him that we are praying for him ... and for all the worlds that be.” Donna grabbed on to Jason’s hand as the shaman’s spell whisked them away.