The village was dry and dusty. Houses of sun-baked bricks squatted alongside simple structures of mud and straw. An obsolete electric generator wheezed and moaned. A mechanical pump labored to extract whatever traces of water remained beneath the thirsty soil. The omnipresent dust had settled over every surface, rendering the entire community gray and colorless. Hungry livestock, their ribs protruding above their swollen bellies, wandered listlessly, gnawing at the meager desert brush. The hardscrabble setting reminded Adrianna of the small Egyptian village where she had grown up—before Intergang and Black Adam came into her life.
She stood on the outskirts of the town, surrounded by the local villagers. A severe drought had punished this region for years now and taken its toll upon the struggling townspeople, who looked tired, thirsty, and without hope. Reddish dust coated their faces and threadbare garments. Uncertain why they had been gathered here, they milled about listlessly, muttering amongst themselves. Careworn faces testified to years of hardship and deprivation. Scrawny children, their faces frighteningly lean, lacked the energy to play. They clung fearfully to their mother's skirts, while pleading in vain for something to drink. If they were lucky, their parents rationed out a few precious sips of water.
Life has not been kind to these people, Adrianna thought, deeply moved by the suffering of the hapless villagers. But perhaps that is soon to change.
A barren desert, its arid monotony unbroken by even the slightest trace of vegetation, stretched for kilometers before them. A flowing green robe and matching headcloth protected Adrianna from the merciless sun, but offered little relief from the suffocating heat and lack of moisture. Not a single cloud could be seen in the sky. Even though she had been here less than an hour, her mouth already felt dry and parched. She looked expectantly toward the east.
Any moment now ...
Sure enough, a loud whooshing sound came from the east. A tremendous cloud of dust suddenly appeared on the horizon, rushing across the desert at supersonic speed. Many of the villagers turned to flee, fearing a sudden sandstorm. Their faces filled with terror. Children bawled as their parents prayed for deliverance.
"Wait!" Adrianna cried out to the panicked people. "It's only him. Black Adam!" ■
Few paid heed to her words, but it didn't matter. There was no time to escape from the approaching storm. A sudden wind whipped up the dust and sand all around them as Black Adam, flying at ground level, zoomed past the gathering, his mighty fists held out before him. So swiftly did he fly that Adrianna barely caught a glimpse of his muscular form before he disappeared from sight. The windblown sand settled in his wake, revealing a deep trench carved into the sun-baked floor of the desert. Wide-eyed villagers gaped in wonder at the freshly excavated furrow. Excitement began to show upon their haggard faces.
The ground rumbled promisingly. Raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sim, she pointed "upstream" back the way Black Adam had come. "Look!" she exhorted the crowd. "Just as I promised!"
Her triumphant words were drowned out by the roar of mighty waters surging down the length of the trench, creating a cascading river right on the edge of town, where none had ever existed before. Adrianna felt the spray of the water against her face, tasted its cool freshness on her lips. The river flowed past her, showing no sign of abating. The roar softened to a soothing murmur.
Cheers and jubilation erupted from the astounded villagers. Men, women, and children raced forward to immerse themselves in the life-giving wraters. Little boys and girls splashed each other merrily, getting thoroughly drenched. Laughing men and women enthusiastically filled buckets and bowls from the river. Tears of happiness streamed down the faces of young and old alike, washing away the accumulated dust of too many thirsty years. The flowing river carried their pain away.
Adrianna felt her own eyes moisten in turn. She knelt and helped herself to a sip of water. If it tasted this good to her, she could only imagine what the precious liquid tasted like to the parched townspeople. Their intense emotion tugged on her heartstrings.
"Thank you!" a joyful mother called out to her. She dipped her baby into the cool water, where it giggled happily. "Thank you so much!"
"Thank him," Adrianna replied. She nodded at the sky, where Black Adam could now been seen descending from the heavens. His imposing shadow fell over the spontaneous celebration as he hovered in the air several meters above the newly created shore. He casually wiped the sand from his knuckles. His face maintained a stoic expression as he viewed the scene. Adrianna hoped he understood just how much he had truly done for these people.
"It is he!" a wizened village elder cried out, pointing up at Black Adam. "Our leader ... our savior!" He dropped to his knees, and the rest of the villagers followed suit. They knelt upon the muddy shore, bowing to the darkly clad figure above them.
Only Adrianna remained standing. "They worship you like a god," she chided him softly. "Is that why you do this?"
Taking her words to heart, he touched down on the ground beside her. He took a kneeling supplicant by the arm and gently brought the man to his feet. "Please," he insisted, "I am not your leader. Not your ruler." He raised his voice to address all assembled. "I only do what I can to help." ■
Confused but compliant, the other villagers gradually rose from the dirt. Although they continued to cast awestruck gazes in Black Adam's direction, they soon went back to enjoying the miraculous blessing of their new river. He observed the sheer elation with which the grateful citizens greeted the bountiful supply of fresh water. Heedless of their soggy clothes, they danced along the slope of the river. A grinning woman balanced a large, flat-bottomed water jug upon her head.
"I had no idea this village was in such need," Black Adam admitted.
"That's because you've spent all your time and power fighting American heroes and executing American villains." Only days ago, she knew, Black Adam had clashed with Green Lantern when the American hero's pursuit of some foe had carried them over the Sinai Canal, which Adam claimed jurisdiction over. In the end, Green Lantern had departed with his prisoner, but not before exchanging blows with Black Adam over the disposition of the villain. "And gathering allies like chess pieces to consolidate a power base that only serves to escalate global tensions."
He refused to admit the error of his ways. "Do you deny the threats of misplaced power in the hands of those who might do harm to the world?"
"Power doesn't have to corrupt," she insisted. "Look at what you've done these last few days. You changed the course of a mighty river and provided water for hundreds of people. You disarmed fields of mines across Kahndaq's highways. You've made your people's lives better."
He shrugged. "All because you suggested it."
"And that is all I can do," she said humbly. "But someone like you, Adam, you can help in so many ways because of what you can do." She searched his face for some sign that she was getting through to him. He had come so far since they had first met; if only she could convince him to abandon his vengeful crusade. "Why act out of anger when you can act in hope?"
He turned and looked at her, a brooding look upon his face. She sensed the terrible fury lurking within him, never very far from the surface. "For a very good reason."
Sweeping her up into his arms, he launched himself into the sky. She gasped and clung to him as Earth fell away beneath them. Although she was beginning to grow accustomed to this unorthodox mode of travel, she still found it a trifle alarming. Her heart pounded violently within her chest in a not entirely unpleasant way. Declining to look down, she concentrated on his chiseled yet saturnine features. I know there is a good man inside him, she thought. He just needs someone to show him the way.
The speed of Heru carried them swiftly across the country, so that Shiruta— and the great gleaming dome of the royal palace—soon appeared below them. They descended through an open sunroof, landing nimbly upon the floor of Black Adam's office. She breathed a sigh of relief when her sandals touched the floor, yet felt oddly disappointed when he finally let go of her. The entire trip, a distance of several hundred miles, had lasted less than the time it took to brew a pot of tea.
As usual, a horde of advisors and bureaucrats flocked to Adam upon his return. They came bustling up to him, anxiously clutching charts and reports to their chests. The hems of their formal robes brushed against the floor.
"Mighty Adam." A gray-bearded functionary accosted him at once. "The Iranian, Super-Shaykh, has contacted us again. He needs your assistance against the meta-human terrorist group Dark Genesis. They just attempted another strike on Iran's nuclear weapons facility."
"And were they stopped?" Black Adam asked curtly.
"They fled, yes," the aged advisor divulged. "But Super-Shaykh is still in pursuit. He awaits your response."
"Later," Black Adam decreed. Taking Adrianna by the arm, he briskly escorted her toward a nearby exit. The crush of advisors parted reluctantly before their leader's advance, and she caught a few bewildered looks cast in her direction. Puzzled voices whispered and muttered behind her. No doubt the palace's staff were wondering what she was doing to their glorious leader.
Bringing out his better side, I hope.
He led her into a wing of the palace she had never explored before, where an abandoned throne room had been converted into a shrine. Carved into the wall between two imposing stone pillars was an enormous bas-relief depicting a beautiful woman and two young boys. All three figures wore the garb of Adrianna's ancient ancestors and were at least three times the size of her and Black Adam. The woman's slender arms stretched protectively above the boys' heads. Her sculpted eyes were turned upward toward the heavens. A golden scarab was embedded in a pedestal at the woman's feet. Precious jewels adorned the sacred icon.
Adrianna spoke in hushed tones. "What is this place?"
"A few years after the wizard bestowed me with these powers," Black Adam said, "my wife and sons were murdered, killed by an enemy I should have destroyed long before." The bitterness in his voice made it clear that he had neither accepted nor forgiven his family's death. "You must understand. I execute my foes so no one else will feel the emptiness I do. That you surely do as well." His dark eyes searched her face. "Intergang killed your family. They sold your brother into slavery. Where is your anger, Adrianna?"
She averted her eyes from his gaze. "I am not angry."
"You have to feel something," he insisted.
Feeling uncomfortable, she looked into her own soul, but found no answers there. "I'm not sure what I feel," she admitted. A sense of overwhelming loss came over her when she thought of her own family's unhappy fate. "Mostly alone."
Black Adam nodded, as though he understood. Examining her carefully, he seemed to come to a decision. His hand reached out and wrenched the golden scarab from its pedestal, a feat of strength that few could emulate. A heavy rumbling greeted his action as a hidden apparatus awoke from slumber. Stone ground loudly against stone and the entire monument split in two, revealing a long stone staircase that seemed to lead down into the very bowels of the earth. A flickering golden glow could be glimpsed somewhere beyond the bottom of the steps.
"Where does it go?" she asked apprehensively. "A secret tunnel under the palace?"
He shook his head. "It will take us far from the palace," he said cryptically. "And from Kahndaq."
What does he mean by that? Adrianna found herself baffled by this unexpected turn of events. She gulped as she took his arm and let him lead her down the steps toward only the gods knew where. The dusty steps looked as though they were seldom used. She wondered whether anyone besides Black Adam even knew they existed. Why is he showing me this?
The shrine was a distant memory by the time they reached the bottom of the steps. They continued down a gloomy tunnel. Torches in sconces cast dancing shadows upon the rough stone walls of the catacomb. Their footsteps echoed within the eerie silence. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that they were exploring some ancient pharaoh's tomb. No rats or insects seemed to scurry in the shadows.
She held tightly onto Black Adam's arm. "Where are we?"
"This passage leads to the Rock of Eternity/' he said, "a fabled place of power outside time and space. Until but recently, it was the home of the wizard who long ago bestowed my powers upon me, but he perished in the recent Crisis. Now, another resides here."
Before she could ask w'ho, they came upon a row of grotesque figures lined up along the wall on the left. Leering like malignant djinni, they crouched ominously upon granite pedestals inscribed with their names: Pride, Avarice, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony, Envy, and Sloth. Their petrified expressions seemed to embody all that was evil in the human soul. Bowls of fire burned at their feet. Adrianna shuddered as they walked past the towering idols.
"The Seven Deadly Sins," Adam said. "But you need not fear them. The demons are bound in stone for all eternity."
Was he saying that these weren't just statues, that these were the Sins themselves? She tried to grasp the full implications of this revelation, but before her beleaguered brain could even begin to cope with that concept, he escorted her into a cavernous throne room. Stalactites hung from the ceiling many meters above her. A blazing brazier lit up the chamber, and suffused the air with the scent of some exotic incense. She forgot all about the Sins as her wide-eyed gaze was immediately drawn to the brawny figure seated upon the large marble throne before them. His cape and uniform resembled Black Adam's, save that it was bright red where Adam's garb was dark as night. She immediately recognized one of the world's most famous heroes, second only perhaps to Superman himself.
Captain Marvel.
"Billy," Black Adam addressed the hero. Apparently, they were on a first-name basis.
"Black Adam," Captain Marvel replied. He squinted suspiciously at the newcomer. His tone was far from welcoming. "You should not have come here. Mister Atom. Sabbac. Johnny Sorrow. Every adversary I have has attempted an assault on the Rock of Eternity." He sounded weary but determined. "But the wizard left me in charge, Adam, and the Seven Sins and the power of the Rock are under my watch." He leaned forward upon the throne, his fists clenched in anticipation. "Have you come to steal that power too?"
"Of course not," Adam assured him. He kept his own arms lowered at his sides. "I'm not here to fight. I am not your enemy anymore, Billy."
Adrianna gathered that Black Adam and Captain Marvel had clashed in the past. She hoped Adam's peaceful overture was more evidence of a lasting change in his attitude. Perhaps he might still abandon his misguided campaign to confront the Western powers with his own meta-human alliance?
Captain Marvel settled back onto his throne. "Well, I suppose beating each other up never really solved our problems anyway." No longer on guard against an attack, he seemed to notice her for the first time. "Who's your friend?"
"My name is Adrianna Tomaz," she said, stepping out from behind Adam. She didn't really understand what was happening, but she knew that she had little to fear from Captain Marvel. Word of his heroic deeds and character had reached even her remote village.
"Pleased to meet you." Captain Marvel rose from the throne and came forward to shake her hand. There was something charming about his smile, as though he retained a boyish innocence that Black Adam had lost millennia ago. In a way, he reminded her of her younger brother, Amon. "What brings you two to the Rock of Eternity?"
I wish I knew, she thought.
Adam showed Captain Marvel the golden scarab. "When the wizard believed I had been corrupted by his power, he imprisoned me in this scarab for over three thousand years. But my powers weren't the only ones that dwelt within the scarab." He. turned the artifact over, revealing a polished ruby mounted in the underside of the scarab. A golden cartouche housed the smooth red jewel. "This jewel, this amulet, fastened to the back contains the power of another of the wizard's champions from ancient Egypt." He carefully detached the amulet from the back of the scarab. A thin golden chain uncoiled from the top of amulet. "I want to give that power to Adrianna."
"What?" She stepped back from the ruby necklace in alarm. Had she heard him correctly?
Black Adam made his intentions crystal clear. "I want to invite her into the Marvel Family."
The what? She was vaguely aware that, besides Black Adam and Captain Marvel, there was also a Mary Marvel and a Captain Marvel Jr. But what did that have to do with her? "I don't understand," she protested.
"The magicks within this amulet," Black Adam said, "were gathered' by Egypt's most powerful goddess, Isis herself. During the Eighteenth Dynasty, the great queen Hatshepsut was gifted with this power. She brought peace throughout her kingdom. After her death, the powers were returned to the amulet." He held the gleaming ruby out to her. "Where they still are. Waiting for Isis' next champion. You."
She looked to Captain Marvel, hoping he could dissuade Adam from this notion, but instead the World's Mightiest Mortal looked her over thoughtfully. She felt as though her very soul was being weighed in the balance.
"The Sins can find few flaws in her," he informed Black Adam. "And the wisdom of Solomon tells me that she has already had a profound effect on you, one that can only grow with time." He nodded in approval. "She is worthy."
"Wait!" she objected. Things were happening far too fast. "I'm not a goddess. I'm just a woman. That's all I want to be."
Black Adam held out the amulet once more. "Think of what you will be able to do," he urged her. "For the people and for yourself. Nothing will ever be able to stop you. You'll never be hurt by anything or anyone again."
When he put it like that, it sounded tempting, and yet... she looked back over her shoulder at the Seven Deadly Sins. "But. .. power corrupts."
"It need not. You said so yourself." Gazing into her eyes, he appealed openly to her heart and conscience. There was no mistaking how much he wanted this. "You've only just begun to show me a new way. I need your help. I need someone at my side."
She remembered the river he had brought to the desert less than an hour ago, and the happy faces of the jubilant villagers and their children. There was so much heartache and suffering in the world, and so much that Black Adam could do to make the planet a better place. If he truly needed someone beside him tc keep him on the right path, how could she refuse?
"Take the amulet, Adrianna," Captain Marvel said. "Let the words flow into you . .. and through you." .
Trembling, she accepted the amulet, holding it in the palm of her hand. The brilliant ruby reflected the shimmering light from the brazier—or was it glowing brightly from within? The amulet felt warm against her skin. A woman's voice, as deep and eternal as the Nile, whispered gently inside her head.
"I hear it," Adrianna admitted. "A simple prayer."
"Say it, Adrianna," Black Adam pleaded. "Say it."
She contemplated the glowing amulet. Perhaps this was always meant to be, she thought. Maybe all my trials and tragedies were intended to lead me to this moment. She knew in her heart that this was the moment of truth. After this, there could be no turning back. Very well then. If this is my destiny, I am ready to accept it.
She took one last look at Black Adam, then closed her eyes. Her fist wrapped around the sacred amulet. She swallowed hard, then let her lips form the words.
"I am ... ISIS!"
A mystical lightning bolt struck from out of nowhere. A booming thunderclap rocked the throne room. The force of the lightning drove both Black Adam and Captain Marvel back, but when the blinding glare faded, Adrianna Tomaz was nowhere to be seen.
In her place stood a statuesque goddess taller and more imposing than the woman she had been only a heartbeat before. The ruby amulet had become a jewel-studded tiara crowning her head. Her lustrous brown hair cascaded freely onto her bare shoulders. A brief two-piece outfit, consisting of little more than a few wide strips of white linen, wrapped around her breasts and hips, exposed an Amazonian figure worthy of Wonder Woman. Burnished bronze skin gleamed in the torchlight. Intricate golden jewelry glittered upon her throat, wrists, waist, and sandals. She looked down upon her transformed self in amazement. .
"Adrianna?" Black Adam asked, concerned about her reaction.
She smiled at him. "No, Teth-Adam." Even her voice sounded stronger and more confident. "Call me by my new name."
"Welcome to the family, Isis," Captain Marvel said. His boyish smile was almost as bright as her own.
She stretched her limbs, basking in her new abilities. "I can feel Her power inside me, Adam!" Zephyr winds, summoned at will, lifted her off her feet so that she floated several meters above the floor of the cavern. "Nature itself is calling me, asking what it can do to help my crusade."
"I am hoping it will be our crusade," Black Adam said. He rose to join her. Face-to-face above the floor, they clasped their hands together. He looked deep into her eyes. "Help me, Isis. Help me change the world for the better."
"I will, Adam." All her doubts and misgivings were no more. She had found a whole new purpose in life. "I will join you in your mission." Only one thing remained to complete her happiness and put the past behind her. "As soon as we find my brother."
FAWCETT CITY.
The abandoned laboratory looked like a bomb had hit it. Heavy basement doors lay flat upon the floor, as though blown off their hinges by some powerful force. Broken beakers and test tubes crunched beneath Supernova's boots as he explored Dr. Sivana's former hideout, taking care to avoid puddles of foulsmelling chemicals. The infamous scientist was long gone, just as Supernova's sources had reported, but remnants of his twisted genius remained, scattered all over the demolished lab. The masked hero inspected the wrecked devices to see if any of them were salvageable. Sivana has been missing for weeks, he recalled. Who knows what that madman might have left lying around?
The overhead lights had been shattered, so he provided his own illumination. Supernova's personal radiance lit up the ruins, exposing every murky corner of the lab to view. Unfortunately, the brilliant glare quickly revealed that Sivana's diabolical inventions, from the super-magnet to the mini-saucer, were either unfinished or beyond repair. Whatever violence had devastated the laboratory had also reduced the mad doctor's science projects to so much scrap metal and confetti. Supernova lingered over the shredded blueprints of an experimental time machine before tossing the illegible fragments to the floor.
I'm wasting my time here.
He made a mental note to inform the authorities of the hidden lab's location, just so they could properly dispose of Sivana's potentially dangerous leftovers. Useless or not, he didn't want them falling into the wrong hands ... even if he had more pressing matters to deal with.
A bulletin board caught his attention. News clippings were pinned to the board, which had been shielded from the blast by an unfinished robotic torso. Supernova recognized the distinctive typefaces of several major newspapers, including the Daily Planet and the Gotham Times. He quickly scanned the headlines of the articles:
' "CURSES! FOILED AGAIN!"
FBI raid finds Baron Bug's lab empty
CRIMINAL MASTERMIND SKIPS BAIL, LEAVES LOOT.
Has Ira "I.Q" Quimby outsmarted himself?
"MAD DOCTOR" RIGORO MORTIS VANISHES FROM LAIR.
Neighbors hear "snarling sounds."
"DOCTOR DEATH" FAILS TO TESTIFY.
Mystery of the Disappearing Defendant.
T.O. MORROW GONE FROM LOCKED CELL.
Prison authorities baffled.
DR. CYCLOPS JOINS "EVIL BRAIN DRAIN."
Local super-villain 'missingfor days,' says henchman.
WHERE—OR WHEN—IS DOCTOR TYME?
Looks like someone is rounding up mad scientists, Supernova concluded, including Sivana himself. He glanced around the trashed laboratory. Despite all the damage, there was no sign of the evil inventor's body—nor any indication that he had left voluntarily. Supernova guessed that Sivana had joined his missing colleagues. But where? And what for?
He took a closer look at the headlines. The one referring to Doctor Tyme intrigued him enough to read further, quickly skimming the article below the headline:
Doctor Tyme, the crazed scientist behind last year's missing fifty-two seconds, has vanished. Dubbed 'the Tick-Tock Thief of Time,' he disappeared on his way to the high-security meta-human prison on Alcatraz Island after aging three guards to dust in Pelican Bay. When the overturned prison vehicle was found, the driver's watch was off by five minutes....
Supernova shook his head, concerned by the contents of the clipping. Fifty-two seconds missing, he thought grimly. According to the rest of the article, that stolen time had never been recovered. A lot can happen in fifty-two seconds....
Worried that he was running out of time, he turned to leave the lab and fly back to Metropolis. As he headed to the door, however, his foot accidentally connected with a fallen plastic cylinder and kicked it across the floor. Something rattled inside the tube as it rolled away.
Wait a second. What's that?
Curious, he walked over and picked up the transparent cylinder. Looking inside, he spotted the dried husk of an empty cocoon, only a few inches long. The crumbling specimen glowed faintly, as though radioactive. A peculiar chill ran down Supernova's spine.
Since when did Dr. Sivana, of all people, take up butterfly collecting? He held the mysterious cocoon up before his eyes. Behind his hood, his expression was grave. And what do you suppose hatched out of there?
The slavery camp was hidden away in the heart of the desert, far from the nearest village or oasis. A chain-link fence topped with razor wire enclosed an ugly concrete building that stood out like a great gray eyesore amidst the endless sand dimes. Hot air rippled above the compound's flat roof. Foul-smelling fumes rose from a belching smokestack, polluting the dry desert air. The morning sun was low in the sky.
The very sight of the camp offended Isis as she swooped out of the sky beside Black Adam. His mighty fists preceded him as he flew toward the camp, while her own arms were stretched out to catch the obedient zephyr whisking her through the air. Her unbound hair streamed behind her as she flew. Despite the gravity of their mission, she found the sensation of flying under her own power exhilarating.
I pray I never become so inured to the experience, she thought, that I fail to appreciate zvhat a blessing it is.
Black Adam grabbed onto the edge of the heavy concrete roof and, with the strength of Amon, tore it free of its moorings. Sunlight poured into the factory below, exposing a heartbreaking scene.
Scores of innocent children, some no more than five years old, toiled at long worktables, assembling bits of costume jewelry and cheap plastic decorations. The scrawny, underfed boys and girls wore only filthy rags as they Worked in the oppressive heat of the dingy sweatshop; air-conditioning had apparently been judged an unnecessary expense. Scowling adults, armed with truncheons and automatic weapons, sipped on cold sodas and beer as they sullenly supervised the captive children ... until the ceiling abruptly disappeared overhead. Dust and powdered cement rained down upon their heads. They looked up in alarm. .
"Black Adam!" a startled guard shouted. Automatic guns and rifles immediately opened fire on Isis and Adam, but the blistering hail of bullets bounced harmlessly off the heroic duo. Frightened children dived for cover beneath their workstations. Isis caught only a fleeting glimpse of their faces, not enough to tell if her brother was among them. That would have to wait until the slavers themselves were disposed of.
She flew into the building, while Adam hurled the uprooted ceiling away from him. It crashed loudly onto the floor of the desert outside. Fie followed her into the factory, his eyes ablaze with anger.
"This slavery ring ends now!" he declared fiercely. Isis had no doubt that the pitiful children reminded him of his own murdered sons. He stalked toward the retreating slavers, his fists raised and ready. "As do your wretched lives!"
Isis instantly recalled the brutal way he had disposed of her kidnappers. Noose's blood and brains had literally splattered her robe the day she and Adam first met. "No, Adam," she beseeched him, laying a restraining hand upon his chest. The men's bullets continued to ricochet off her and Adam. "Let them be judged for their crimes in this life. And when Nature takes its course, the next."
She gazed fearlessly into the blazing muzzles of the guns. "Nothing escapes Nature," she assured Adam. "And as Isis, I am Nature." Raising her arm, she gestured at the retreating slavers. "Winds!"
At her command, a furious whirlwind came to life within the factory. The howling tornado snared the slavers, sweeping them off their feet and up into the sky high above the camp. Their panicked shrieks were lost in the roar of the wind, as it stripped them of their weapons and deposited them roughly across the burning sands, where they would have to choose between turning themselves in to the local authorities or dying of thirst and exposure. Alerted by Black Adam's ambassador, a division of United Nations troops was already en route to round the slavers up. Having experienced Nature's wrath, they were unlikely to put up much resistance.-
"They deserve more than a few broken bones," Black Adam objected. He began to lift off from the floor, intent on hunting the scattered criminals down personally. His irate tone made it clear that he had several summary executions in mind.
"No, Adam," she entreated him once more. She gently tugged him back down to earth and reminded him of what really mattered. "Not in front of the children."
Now that the angry shouting and gunfire was over, the children gradually crawled out from beneath their hiding places. Timidly at first, then with greater confidence, they flocked to Adam and Isis. Tiny hands reached out to touch their saviors. "Thank you!" said a chorus of childish voices. "Thank you, thank you!"
To her slight amusement, Black Adam looked somewhat at a loss. He was obviously more comfortable wreaking vengeance on his enemies than coping with the heartfelt adoration of dozens of grateful kids. He stood stiffly amidst the children, a stern expression on his face. Isis couldn't help wondering what he had been like with his own offspring, three thousand years ago.
She looked over the children herself, appalled at how dirty and skinny they were. A familiar sadness came over her as she searched their wide-eyed faces. "It's all right," she promised them soothingly. "You're all going home."
"Most of them don't have homes to go to, Adrianna." He walked beside her as they began to lead the children out of the roofless factory. A convoy would soon arrive to ferry them to safety. "Before I retook Kahndaq, the dictator there dragged thousands of children from their homes, forcing them into hard labor and prostitution." He frowned at the memory. "The parents that argued were killed on the spot."
Just like mine were, she realized. "Then... then all the orphans of the world will be welcome in Kahndaq. All of them." She stroked the tousled head of a small boy. A powerful gust of wind blew down the wire fence. "All of them we can find..."
Black Adam did not miss the melancholy tone that had entered her voice. "Your brother isn't here, is he?"
"No, Amon isn't here," she admitted. Ironically enough, her brother was named after the very god who granted Adam his superhuman strength. "We've spent a week dismantling dozens of slavery camps across Africa, the Middle East, and Asia." And yet her little brother remained missing. "Maybe I need to stop hoping."
"Stop hoping?" He greeted her mournful suggestion with disbelief. He gestured toward the throng of newly liberated boys and girls surrounding them. They gazed up at her with breathless awe and gratitude. "Look at these children, Adrianna. Hope is all they are doing now. You show them hope." He turned toward her, looking deeply into her eyes. "You show me hope. And no one has done that in so long, in so many centuries...His hand gently lifted her chin. "We will find your brother. And we'll free all the children of the world while doing so."
She wanted to believe him, and perhaps she could. It was not so long ago, she recalled, that her own future had seemed absolutely without hope, after Intergang killed her parents and attempted to force her into slavery. Black Adam had changed all that. Single-handedly, he had brought hope back into her life—and given her a glorious new purpose. How could she not believe him when he promised that their future was only beginning?
We will find Amon . .. together.
"Isis ... Adrianna Tomaz. There is something I have for you." To her surprise, Adam dropped to one knee before her. He reached beneath his golden sash and brought forth a sparkling diamond ring. He held the ring out to her, much as he had offered the Amulet of Isis only a week before. "This diamond belonged to Cleopatra, given to her by Caesar on the eve of the Alexandrian War." She gaped at the size of the jewel, which had to be twenty-four carats at least. "I offer it to you, Isis, and I ask you on this morning to be my queen." Following Adam's lead, the children knelt and bowed their heads as well. "To be our queen."
Taken aback, Isis was suddenly overcome with emotion. She placed a hand against her heart and felt it beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird. Did he truly mean what she thought he meant?
Lifting his head, he beamed up at her. No trace of his murderous rage could be seen upon his handsome visage, only the hopeful smile of a man in love.
"Will you be my wife?"
Her answer was evident in her smile.
It was a thirty-one-hour flight from Gotham to Kahndaq. You changed planes twice, once in Paris, then again in Algiers. You changed twice because there was no direct service to Kahndaq from the U.S. or Europe.
That's because most people know better than to come here, Renee thought.
Hot, jet-lagged, and craving a cigarette, she peered sourly out of the window of a rickety old bus as it drove them into downtown Shiruta. Vic sat beside her, admiring the scenery. The bumpy ride jolted her already stiff back. Kahndaq seemed to-be long on potholes and short on shock absorbers. With every jolt, she had to remind herself why exactly they had come six thousand miles to a foreign country ruled by a super-powered dictator: because Intergang was moving weapons and personnel into Gotham, and Kahndaq was either a source or a link in the chain.
And because, like Charlie, I'm curious.
The bus pulled up to a curb and she realized that they had reached the medina, the walled heart of the city. She let Vic take care of paying the driver with the local currency, while she stepped out of the bus to experience Kahndaq firsthand.
It wasn't what she expected.
Judging from the coverage in the Western press, and Black Adam's sinister history, she had anticipated a Third World hellhole populated by frightened citizens cowering beneath the oppressive lash of a megalomaniacal super-villain. Instead she suddenly found herself in the middle of a festive street scene. Gleeful men, women, and children crowded downtown Shiruta, practically dancing in the street. Musicians played a cheerful air upon flutes, tambourines, and drums. Fragrant blossoms were strewn upon the streets and sidewalks. The tantalizing aroma of mint tea and spiced lamb wafted from the stands of various open-air food vendors.
She tried to take it all in. The exotic Arabic architecture with its graceful domes and archways. The men in their traditional attire: a fez, a loose tunic, slacks, and sandals. The women in their flowing robes and scarves. Laughing children running and playing amidst the open stalls and donkey carts. Brilliant sunlight cast a golden glow over the merriment, 'making Renee glad that she had unpacked her sunglasses. Palm trees provided a modicum of shade from the sweltering heat.
Giant banners of Black Adam and Isis hung from every balcony and gateway, smiling down on the celebrants. Renee did a double take.
Black Adam ... smiling?
Vic joined her on the sidewalk. He dropped their luggage onto the paving stones. "Huh?" he reacted. "Not exactly the Axis of Evil, is it?"
They had only a moment to adjust to their new surroundings before a throng of grinning Kahndaqis rushed toward them. At first Renee thought they were being attacked, then someone draped a flowery garland over her head. Ohmigod, she realized, they're giving us the world's most enthusiastic welcome. Friendly voices assailed her from all directions. Most of the babble was in Arabic, which left Renee in the dark, but a couple of their new best friends managed to muster some English.
"Welcome!" a teenage boy in a fez greeted them. "Rejoice with us at the start of Kahndaq's new golden age!"
A beautiful young woman bestowed a fresh garland upon Vic, who was thoroughly enjoying their warm reception. "Thank you, thank you very much," he said as the lovely maiden kissed him on the cheek. Renee noted, with just a twinge of jealousy, that the girl had the same haircut as Isis, as did many of the other young women. Wannabes, she thought, fust like all those trendy sorts who copied Black Canary's hairstyle a few years back.
"Please, share in Kahndaq's blessings!" Kahndaqi men surrounded her, attempting to adorn her hair with lilies and narcissuses. "Come, dance with us!"
"No, really ...," she demurred, trying to be polite. "You don't have to do this." She was tired and nicotine-deprived and really didn't like being touched, but the men seemed determined to include her in their celebration. She gently attempted to fend them off. "No, thank you ... no, that's enough...."
Vic smirked at her, amused by her unwanted makeover. "Lovely. Brings out your eyes." He took her by the arm, and she resisted the urge to pound his face into the pavement. "C'mon," he said. "I hired Achmed over there to deliver our bags to the hotel. He has an honest face." Renee wondered if she would ever see her luggage again. "Let's get cracking."
One of Vic's contacts had tracked down the Ridge-Ferrick connection here in Shiruta. A firm called Hni Hnak Shipping, located somewhere in the temple district. According to Vic, Hni Hnak meant "Here to There" in English.
Cute.
Wading through the mob of well-wishers, they began to explore the medina. Vic led the way, consulting a foldout map of Shiruta he had picked up from the Kahndaqi consulate in Gotham. They quickly discovered that the general atmosphere of jubilation was not confined to the courtyard they had just left. Everywhere they went, Renee saw people rejoicing. She hadn't seen a town so giddy since the last time the Joker slipped laughing gas into the water supply.
"What's with all the hoopla?" she asked Vic.
Naturally, he spoke fluent Arabic. "Seems Black Adam has declared a fortnight of feasting in honor of his new fiancee, this woman they're calling Isis."
Renee had read about her in NezvsTime magazine. Some sort of Egyptian version of Wonder Woman. As far as Renee was concerned, this new heroine had big sandals to fill if she wanted to replace the missing Amazon princess.
Vic's cell phone rang. The theme from The X-Files served as his ring tone. "Hang on," he told her. "I need to take this call."
Renee lit up a cigarette, her first in over twenty-four hours. Cooling her heels, she glanced around the bustling Middle Eastern marketplace. Merchants hawked everything from handwoven carpets to cheap replicas of Isis' jeweled tiara. Donkeys plodded along the cobblestone road. Street urchins chased each other in and out of cramped shops and stalls. Exotic spices scented the air. Excitement over the royal romance could be seen everywhere. A clothing merchant was doing a brisk business selling knockoffs of Isis' costume, even though the skimpy, two-piece outfit wasn't exactly flattering to some of the young wannabes parading through the market. Framed photos of the happy couple were also a hot commodity.
"No, I can barely hear you, Tot," Vic informed his caller. "What's that? The package is on its way? Great." He glanced at Renee. "What, her? Pretty well. There's a lot of untapped potential." He looked away, concentrating on his call. "No, I will. Thanks again, Tot."
He put the cell phone away.
"So who was that?" she asked.
"A friend," he answered. "Name's Aristotle Rodor. Tot, for short. He handles my gear. Calling him a genius is underselling it." The only geniuses Renee knew were criminal masterminds. "He shipped out a Comdex container with some supplies for us. Should arrive sometime next week."
That wasn't what concerned her just now. "You were talking about me."
"I'm not keeping our partnership a secret, Renee." His tone was unapolo-getic. "He just wanted to know how it was going with you, that's all."
She winced at the word partner. Her last partner was currently pushing up daisies back in Gotham. "And how is it going with me?"
"You still have no idea who you are/' he said, "but other than that, fine." He paused to haggle with a fruit vendor over a bag of figs. Currency was exchanged. "Fig?"
"You keep saying that," she complained. "I have no idea what it means."
He offered her the bag. "It means, you know, 'fig.' An oblong fruit of the genus ficus..."
"That bit about me not knowing who I am, smart-ass." She ignored the figs and took another drag on her cigarette instead.
He took back the bag. "Well, that's the question, isn't it?"
"You're a jerk." Sometimes his cryptic evasions really ticked her off. "You know that, right?"
He shrugged. "It's been noted before."
Finishing off the figs, he consulted his map once more before leading her through the winding streets of the capital. Cobblestone paths passed beneath towering horseshoe gateways. Palm trees sprouted from stone pots placed outside the open doors of the shops. Street signs in Arabic might as well have been written in Kryptonese as far as Renee was concerned. The exotic sights and sounds were like something out of a movie. Casablanca maybe, or an Indiana Jones flick. Renee half expected to see a snake charmer at any minute.
"Okay, that was the Old Quarter we just left," Vic murmured to himself. "So the Temple District should be ... uh ... that way, I think."
In Gotham, Renee knew the city. She could read the streets and the people. Here in Shiruta, she felt uncomfortably out of her element. Gradually, though, she got the distinct impression that they were heading into a bad neighborhood. Busy boulevards shrank down to a confusing maze of narrow alleys and passageways. Weeds sprouted from the cracked pavement. The joyous crowds and music disappeared, replaced by empty streets populated only by the occasional drunk or beggar. Paint peeled from the porches and doors. Plaster crumbled from the walls, exposing the bare masonry underneath. Abandoned buildings were boarded up. Wilted palms looked on the edge of death. Apparently, not all of Kahndaq was in a rapture over the royal couple's impending nuptials.
Renee felt eyes at the back of her neck. Uncertain of her instincts in this foreign environment, she kept glancing back over her shoulder. Once or twice, she thought she glimpsed a shadowy figure darting out of sight before she could get a good look at him or her. Was she just imagining things, or ... ?
Vic noted her distracted state. He looked up from his map. "What?"
"Laugh at me and I'll kill you, Charlie, but I think we're being followed."
"Oh that." He went back to examining the map. "Yeah, he's been on us since we left the airport. C'mon, it's this way." He turned right at a squalid intersection. "At least I think it's this way."
I swear before this is over I'm gonna hold his dead body in my hands. Seething, she clenched her fists. "You didn't think that maybe that info was worth sharing with me?"
"I didn't want you to worry." He glanced up at the sun, barely visible from the cramped alley. "Can you tell which way's east?"
They approached a low one-story building that had definitely seen better days. Empty crates and barrels were stacked haphazardly outside the entrance. Shuttered windows hid whatever might be going on inside. A faded sign, in both English and Arabic, identified the place as Hni Hnak Shipping. Renee thought it looked like the Kahndaqi cousin of that rundown warehouse on Kane Street. ,
"So who is it?" she asked. "Who's following us?"
Vic responded casually. "Abbot, I think."
"The wolf-man?" She glanced behind her again, but didn't see anyone, human or otherwise. She reached instinctively for her ray gun, then remembered that she had left it behind in Gotham. No way would she have been able to get that gun past airport security. "Just great."
Vic stepped beneath the overhang of the doorway. A plume of smoke enveloped him, and when he turned to address her, his face had completely disappeared. "Shall we?"
"Are you crazy?" His apparent lack of concern over the fact that they were being stalked by a werewolf drove Renee nuts. She pointed to her own skull and twirled her finger. "Is that your problem?"
"There's nO such thing as crazy, Renee." He tried the door and found it locked. "Just behavior that society has deemed unacceptable."
Tell that to the Joker, she thought. "Speaking of which, isn't Intergang taking a huge chance setting up in Black Adam's territory? I hear he performs public executions downtown every Wednesday. Draws a huge crowd." She had seen footage of him ripping apart malefactors on the evening news. "Sounds awful risky to me."
The Question kicked in the door. The flimsy doorframe splintered easily. "Unless he's in on it with them."
"There's a lovely thought," she cracked, before following him inside the building.
The smell hit her first, before her eyes could adjust to the murky lighting: the coppery scent of fresh blood, so thick in the air that she could taste it at the back of her throat. An adult male in good health had roughly six quarts of blood in his body. She counted five bodies, which added up to almost eight gallons of blood, most of it splattered over the floors and walls.
"Abbot," Vic whispered. "You son of a bitch."
The shipping office had been thoroughly trashed. Papers were scattered everywhere, spilling out of ransacked cabinets and desks. Overturned furniture and lamps created an obstacle course across the floor. A ceiling fan rotated slowly above the carnage, churning the noxious atmosphere. Crimson droplets spattered against the floor like water from a leaky faucet.
The bodies of the victims weren't in any better shape. They were strewn across the floor and furniture, lying in pools of their own blood. Most of the men had been disemboweled, their guts torn out by the voracious werewolf. The luckier ones had simply had their necks broken. A dead man's face stared up at Renee. His features were frozen in an expression of utter horror.
She removed her sunglasses and took a hard look at the crime scene. It was ugly, but she had seen some pretty brutal stuff in Gotham as well. Killer Croc's last rampage, for example, or the Man-Bat Murders. "What do you think?"
“I think someone didn't want these guys talking to us," Vic said.
"Yeah. Me too." She suspected that the "someone" in question had serpentine eyes and a forked tongue. "If we're going to look around, we'd better do it fast."
The cop inside her screamed at her not to touch anything, but Renee was finding that nagging inner voice easier and easier to ignore. She and Vic picked their way amidst the spreading red puddles. They poked delicately through the scattered papers and other debris. "Any idea what we're looking for?"
He lifted some shipping invoices by their dry edges. "You'll know it when you find it." ■
"That your way of saying 'I don't know'?" She stepped over a pile of bloody viscera.
"Yeah," he admitted, "but my way is more poetic____"
She noted a pile of cardboard boxes, about the size of cereal boxes, on the floor behind a toppled desk. She crouched to inspect them. The labels were in Arabic, but a visual graphic on the boxes seemed clear enough: a silhouette of a dead rat lying on its back, exed out by a heavy black line. There were at least a dozen boxes of poison, but only three were empty.
"Hmm. Must have had a hell of a rat problem." She stood up and tossed one of the empty boxes aside. "Anything?"
Vic shook his head. "No, nothing." He sounded tired. Renee guessed that the jet lag was finally catching up with him. "Let's get out of here."
"No argument from me," she said. Thanks to Abbot, their one lead had turned into a dead end. She hoped that they hadn't flown six thousand miles for nothing. That would suck, big-time.
They stepped outside into the afternoon glare. She reached for her sunglasses. .
"Yaqif!" .
A harsh voice shouted at them. Renee turned to see a pair of uniformed police officers rushing toward them from the far end of the street. The cops reached for their sidearms as they yelled forcefully at the two Americans. Renee didn't need her Arabic-to-English pocket dictionary to get the gist of the command.
"Halt! Stop or we'll shoot!"
She realized instantly how bad this looked. Two foreign devils, one of them masked, leaving the site of a gruesome mass murder. No way was this going to end well. Images from Midnight Express flashed through her brain. .
"Run!" she hollered at Vic, who seemed to have already reached the same conclusion. They sprinted down the street, away from the oncoming gendarmes. Angry shouts pursued. Gunshots rang out. Plaster from a nearby building exploded in their faces.
"Charlie?" she gasped as they fled madly through the maze of alleys.
She could hear him breathing hard behind his mask. "What?"
"Please tell me this isn't Wednesday."
The dingy decor of the East Hope Hotel belied its name. Languishing in the filthy shadows of Suicide Slum, the rundown hotel was a glorified flophouse catering mostly to transients with a few bucks in their pockets. A garish neon sign flickered outside Booster's room, shining through the moth-eaten curtains as he sat on the edge of a lumpy mattress, eating baked beans cold from a can. Unpaid bills littered the top of a bedside table, along with a notice of "Contract Termination" from Ferris Airlines, who had invoked a morals clause in their sponsorship agreement to cut Booster loose. Like rats deserting a sinking ship, he thought sourly. Bunch of fair-weather flyboys. Gold-tinted spray paint covered the Ferris logo on his uniform.
The latest issue of NewsTime rested on the bed next to him. A cover photo of Supernova ("The New Champion of the Metropolis") had been vandalized with a heavy black marker: the hero's hooded face now sported a mustache, buck teeth, and a dagger through the skull. Doodled blood droplets sprayed from the knife.
A laptop computer, primitive by the standards of Booster's native century, balanced upon his knees. On the screen, the Daily Planet’s website rubbed his face in his sinking popularity. "SUPERNOVA OUTSHINES FORMER HERO" read the headline above side-by-side head shots of Booster and Supernova. "BOOSTER APPROVAL RATINGS PLUMMET."
On an impulse, he grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand and poured it over the laptop. Sparks erupted from the keyboard as the computer shorted out. The screen went blank, taking the offending website with it. Skeets, hovering above the bed, let out a startled burst of static. No doubt he found such wanton computer abuse disturbing.
Booster ignored the electronic outburst. " 'Former hero he muttered
beneath his breath. Golden goggles dangled from his neck, revealing pissed-off blue eyes. "I need something big tonight, Skeets. Big and showy to put me back on the map." He looked up at the robot. "What's in the files?"
“I’LL SCAN, SIR. ON THIS DATE IN METROPOLIS HISTORY: A CARJACKING ON THIRTY-THIRD . .
"Yeah, that looks like a job for Booster Gold," he said sarcastically. "Please. Next?"
“A POWER BLACKOUT IN THE BAKERLINE AREA . .
Booster sighed impatiently. "Skeets, can we get away from the purse-snatchings-and-lost-dog blotter. Give me a comeback mission." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "This is Metropolis! It's a city Brainiac tries to shrink to bottle-sized every second Thursday. Don't tell me nothing is on tonight!"
“AND, FINALLY, A NUCLEAR SUBMARINE CRASH IN MIDTDWN.”
"Great ... if I'm Aquaman!" He rolled his eyes. "A sub accident! Who's gonna notice me at night underwat—" Then it hit him. "Wait. Midtown. How the hell does a submarine end up in midtown Metropolis?"
The Curry-class nuclear submarine was embedded in the slimy flesh of the giant aquatic beast rampaging through the heart of the city. Throbbing blue veins, the size of oil pipelines, bulged beneath the monster's scaly purple skin. A mane of pulsating tendrils, like the fronds of some enormous sea anemone, surrounded a voracious maw large enough to swallow a city bus in a single gulp. Rows of ivory fangs jutted from the creature's jaws. Gigantic tentacles whipped out at the surrounding buildings, knocking loose great chunks of masonry, which plunged down onto the chaotic streets below. Panicked men and women ran away from the beast like extras in a Japanese monster movie. Dense clouds of dust and pulverized cement rose several stories into the air, mixing with the smoke from dozens of uncontrolled fires. An angry tentacle flung a moving van through the ground floor of a ritzy hotel. Terrified screams and moans were drowned out by the horrendous wail of the monster itself, which sounded like the world's loudest foghorn.
"This looks like a job'for Supernova," Clark Kent said as he grimly watched the devastation from the top floor of the Daily Planet Building. According to eyewitness reports on the Internet, the sea monster had crawled out of the harbor only minutes ago and was now creating a trail of destruction through Metropolis. The captured submarine was glued to the back of the creature like a prosthetic spine; its breached hull offered little hope that the vessel's crew had survived whatever had befallen them beneath the sea. Clark regretted every life lost, even as he hoped that Metropolis' newest hero would arrive in time to prevent any further fatalities. I just hope he's up to the task.
One of the Planet's summer interns sat in front of a computer terminal a few feet away, pulling what info he could off the Web. "The sub's an American SSBN that was attacked in the mid-Atlantic," he reported. "But, Mr. Kent, what is that frigly thing carrying it?"
"I'm counting on you to tell me that, Sanjay!" Clark said urgently. "Try cross-referencing Atlantis and Aquaman." He knew that Aquaman himself was unlikely to make an appearance; from what he'd heard, Arthur had his hands full under the ocean these days.
Sanjay hastily typed the key words into the search engine. "Wow, that was a good guess," he said as a sketch resembling the monster appeared on his monitor. Instead of a submarine, an old-fashioned sailing ship was entangled within the pictured creature. "Here we go! 'Ballostro: a mythic protocrustacean beast rumored to attach itself to seacraft in search of land prey.'" He looked up from the screen. "I suppose we can wiki out the word 'rumored,' right, Mr. Kent?"
Clark glanced at the screen as he rushed past Sanjay into the corridor outside. The antique illustration certainly seemed to match the behemoth at loose in the streets below. As he hurried to cover the story firsthand, he couldn't help casting a wistful look at the closed door of a little-used storeroom. In days past, he would have used the room to change into his Superman costume. "Ah, storeroom, my old friend. I miss you already."
Clouds of dust and smoke obscured the stars, making the fearful night all that much darker. Slithering its way down Fifth Avenue, the sea monster rained destruction down on the city. A gargantuan tentacle grabbed onto a monorail zooming along an elevated track, bringing the streamlined bullet train to a jarring halt. Bodies went flying inside the train, while shrieking citizens stampeded through the streets and sidewalks one story below. Immense muscles flexed beneath the tentacle's leathery hide. Tortured metal screeched loudly as the tentacle tried to wrench the train from the track. Trapped commuters screamed for help.
Looks like I got here none too soon, Booster thought as he swooped down from the sky. He zipped beneath the tentacle and shoved upward, forcibly lifting the pulpy limb off the endangered monorail. He pressed the tentacle above his head like a weight lifter as he hovered in the air high above the street. The smell of raw calamari filled his lungs, nearly making him gag. The monster's reverberating wail pounded against his ear. He strained to keep the tentacle up, up, and away from the stalled train. I may never eat seafood again, he mused.
“he lax, friends!” Skeets' amplified voice addressed the fleeing crowds.
“IT’S BOOSTER HOLD TO THE RESCUE! HERO OF THE PEOPLE. CHAMPION OF METROPOL—”
A second tentacle lashed out, whacking Booster with the force of a battering ram. He went flying through the air, right into a mammoth bronze statue of Superman, one of many erected throughout Metropolis. Booster smashed through the statue's neck, dislodging its head, before crashing to earth at the base of the decapitated monument. "Look out!" a frantic pedestrian shrieked as chunks of cracked pavement were thrown about from the impact of the hero's hard landing, which left a shallow crater in the middle of a landscaped traffic island. Water spouted from a shattered fire hydrant.
Skeets darted down to assist Booster, “head up, sir:”
" 'Heads up,' you flying anachronism!" Booster corrected him irritably. He sat up at the center of the crater, taking a moment to catch his breath. Despite the protective force field generated by his suit, his head was ringing. "The saying is 'Heads-—'" A shadow fell over him, blotting out the light from the streetlamps. He looked up quickly, just in time to spot the statue's colossal bronze head falling from the sky. He scooted out of the way only an instant before the larger-than-life bust hit the pavement with a resounding crash. The ground shook beneath his butt. "Oh. I get it. Sorry."
Scrambling to his feet, he ran back toward the rampaging monster. The redwood-sized tentacle had knocked him all the way down to Thirty-Third Street, at least a block away from the oncoming creature. "Any more advice?" he asked Skeets.
The robot kept pace with Booster, “maintain your force field, sir.”
"Let me rephrase the question," Booster said acidly. "Any more advice I wouldn't have thought of on my own?" Looking around for a weapon, he spotted a 1986 Keystone Rambler parked at the curb. An overweight black woman was squeezed behind the wheel of the decrepit car, trying in vain to ignite a faltering engine. The uncooperative car lay directly in the monster's path; no way was she going to get away in time. Fortunately, Booster had another use for the rusty automobile.
" 'Scuse me, ma'am." He yanked open the door and physically dragged the heavysetjvoman out from behind the wheel. "Gonna need this vehicle!"
The squirming woman didn't seem to appreciate the urgency of the situation. She fought him every inch of the way, hanging onto the door of the car as if her life depended on it. "Getcher hands off me, ya perv!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs. "HAAAALP!"
Booster suddenly remembered that carjacking Skeets had predicted earlier. Hadn't that been on Thirty-Third Street? He grinned at the irony. Sounds like events are right on schedule. Peeling the woman's fingers away from the open door, he hefted the Rambler with both hands.
"My car—!" the woman cried out.
Booster flung the Rambler at the monster with all his strength. "Here's hoping you filled the gas tank, lady!"
The auto arced through the smoke-filled air before exploding against the monster's side. A bright orange fireball briefly lighted up the night. The smell of burnt fish contaminated the air as the wounded behemoth howled in protest, but the attack only seemed to anger the monster. Its tentacles lashed out at defenseless cars and buildings, smashing them to pieces. Jagged fangs gnashed together within its enormous maw. Smoking metal fragments, which were all that was left of the ancient Rambler, pelted the street and sidewalk. The evicted owner of the car fled in terror, but from Booster, the monster, or both?
Who cares? he thought. Just so long as she gets out of here, pronto!
He backed away as the monster charged toward him.
"That didn't make a dent!" Booster observed of his impromptu car bomb. Frustration filled his voice. "Skeets, what are my options?"
“PLEASE MAINTAIN YD U R FORCE FIELD, SIR.”
"Yes, mother!" he snapped impatiently. The monster was getting closer by the second. "Now talk to me about offensive strateg—HuuhV
A monstrous tentacle whipped down, hammering Booster into the pavement. He tasted asphalt and felt every bone and muscle in his body quivering from the blow; it was like getting a full-body massage from Doomsday or Solomon Grundy. Feeling more than slightly concussed, he crawled out from beneath the tentacle and took to the sky. "Never mind!" he shouted at Skeets. "I have my own plan! What time is the next midtown rail?"
Several of the giant tentacles were still dismantling the elevated tracks. If he was lucky, there was still time to dispose of the beast before the next monorail arrived. The last thing he needed was another trainload of civilians in danger.
“9: 1 9, SIR!” .
He dived toward the tracks. "And what time is it now?"
“9: 1 4, SIR!”
"Perfect." Booster grinned past his busted lips. This was just the opportunity he had been waiting for!
On the street below, closer to the action than was really advisable, Clark watched as Booster touched down upon the tracks. The metallic gold fabric in Booster's uniform made it easy to keep the hero in view, even without telescopic vision. Clark's eyes widened behind his glasses as Booster reached down to grab the electrified rail running the length of the tracks. His heart sank as he guessed what Booster had in mind. "Oh, surely he's not going to ..Clark rushed forward, shouting. "Booster, no! A fluctuation like that will blow the ..
Clark's warning fell on deaf ears. He could only watch in dismay as Booster wrenched the power conduit free of the tracks. For a moment, there was a blinding flash of electricity as sparks sprayed from one end of the ruptured rail, which Booster clearly intended to use to electrocute the Ballostro. A wary tentacle retreated from the hissing sparks—until the power went out and the entire neighborhood was cast into darkness.
"Midtown power grid," Clark murmured. He sighed and shook his head, disappointed by the other hero's carelessness. I thought Booster was better than this.
With no more electrical pyrotechnics to hold it at bay, the swinging tentacle batted Booster off the elevated tracks. He crashed to the street once more, landing in a heap of rubble near a crumpled taxicab. He moaned weakly and clutched his side. Were his ribs cracked or merely broken? Without his X-ray vision, Clark couldn't tell.
Meanwhile, pandemonium was breaking out all around Clark. The sudden blackout had only heightened the terror of the innocent bystanders clogging the streets. Panic-stricken voices cried out in the night:
"What the hell happened to the lights?"
"Ask Booster Gold! Nice goin', hero!" -
"I can still hear the monster! I think it's coming!"
. "Sydney? Sydney? It's daddy, honey! Where are you?"
"Can't see a thing!"
Clark stumbled through the chaos. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, he made out Booster lying on the ground beneath the demolished tracks. Coughing hoarsely, he seemed to be having trouble getting up, let alone helping the hysterical people all around him. Clark clenched his jaw in frustration; at times like this, he hated being nothing more than a mild-mannered reporter. Metropolis needed a hero—and, sad to say, Booster seemed to falling down on the job.
Just when everything looked black, however, a brilliant white light shone down from above. Clark looked up to see Supernova swooping down from the cloudy sky. "Everyone calm down!" The caped hero radiated an incandescent glow that practically turned the night into day. "I'll light the way!"
His timely arrival filled the crowd with hope.
"It's Supernova!"
"Oh, thank God!"
Clark experienced a sense of relief as well. He still had plenty of questions about this new hero, but he was definitely glad to see him. Maybe Supernova would fare better than Booster Gold against the amphibious menace? Clark crossed his fingers.
Abeam of light trailing behind him like a comet's tail, Supernova flew over the Ballostro. The multilimbed leviathan vanished in a blinding flash, leaving only the hijacked submarine behind. Enthusiastic cheers greeted the monster's disappearance.
"Ba-boom\" A bicycle messenger grinned at Clark. "Supernova, one. Big tentacly thing, zero." He pumped his fist in the air. "That's what I'm talkin' about!"
Clark was equally impressed. I couldn't have dealt with that creature more effectively myself. He tracked the flying hero with his eyes, wondering where and how Supernova had acquired his powers and expertise. Just who are you anyway?
The emergency over, Supernova descended from the sky. Glowing as brightly as his stellar namesake, he landed on the street in front of Booster, who was still sprawled amidst the debris. Scuff marks dimmed the latter's blue and gold uniform. Torn fabric exposed glimpses of twenty-fifth-century circuitry. His goggles were scratched and cracked across one lens. The last few corporate decals on his costume were concealed by dust and soot. The battered-looking hero was a far cry from the beaming celebrity who had adorned billboards and magazine covers only two months ago. Blood trickled from his swollen lip.
"Hey, Booster!" a bystander called out, adding insult to injury. "You suck!"
Lifting his head, Booster spit a mouthful of blood onto the cracked blacktop. "You're welcome," he croaked hoarsely.
Clark couldn't help feeling sorry for Booster. Even he knew that the public could be surprisingly fickle at times. He shouldered his way through the crowd to get closer to the two heroes.
"It's over, Booster," Supernova said, looking down on the fallen champion. He extended a gloved hand. "Give me your hand!"
"We love you, Supernova!" some exuberant fans hollered in the background. "Supernova rules!" .
Booster looked about in confusion. He seemed dazed, and possibly in need of medical attention. Ignoring the hand being offered by Supernova, he climbed unsteadily onto his knees. "Where'd the monster go ... ?"
"I zapped it away," Supernova informed him. "No need to thank me. The city's safe now, and you are too."
Clark frowned. Was it just his imagination, or was Supernova being deliberately condescending to poor Booster? That's uncalled for, he thought. As Superman, he had always striven to treat his fellow heroes courteously, no matter what. Despite his recent missteps, Booster had proven himself in battle before. He remembered Booster coming to his aid in the epic struggle against
Doomsday, and fighting against the Secret Society of Super-Villains during the recent Crisis. For all his failings, Booster Gold had earned a little respect.
A nearby teenager obviously disagreed. "Should call him Booster Fold!" the boy said loudly. He spat on the sidewalk in disgust.
"Ignore the insults, Booster," Supernova advised. He continued to hold out his hand. "You're not going to pay attention to these people, are you? Of course you're not." There was no longer any mistaking the mocking tone in the glowing hero's voice. "I mean, why start now, right?"
Aside from Clark, the entire crowd snickered and laughed. "Good one!" the bicycle messenger brayed.
That was the last straw, at least as far as Booster was concerned. Launching himself from the ground, he tackled Supernova and knocked the other hero backward onto the street. Gasps erupted from the crowd, some of whom backed away nervously, while others surged forward for a better look. Clark tried to get through the mob, hoping to calm Booster down, but found himself blocked by the press of bodies hemming him in on all sides. The prospect of a fight drew gawkers from all directions.
“sir, contain yourself!” Skeets exclaimed.
"Shut up!" Booster snapped at the robot. Kneeling on top of Supernova, his knees digging into the other hero's abdomen, he drew back his fist. "I've had it with this smug bastard! He's pushed me too far!" He pounded Supernova in the face, provoking boos and hisses from the outraged spectators. His own face was flushed with anger. "You can't bully me, you caped creep! You're not the hero in this city! I am! ME!" A force blast fired from his gauntlet. "So you can go to hell!"
Taken by surprise, Supernova failed to defend himself at first, but quickly recovered from Booster's assault. He nimbly sprang out of the way of the force blast, which pulverized the asphalt beneath him instead. "Listen to yourself!" he accused Booster. "You're no hero! You're a billboard!" A scissor-kick connected with Booster's chin, propelling him onto his back. "You turn my stomach! You never had the confidence to earn people's respect, so you tried to buy it! Well, guess what?" He pounced at Booster, his fists clenched. "Metropolis found out the truth about Booster Gold! Staged stunts he can handle, but in a genuine crisis, he—"
"I can do the job!" Booster insisted. A shimmering force-field bubble extended outward from his uniform, slamming into Supernova, who had the breath knocked out of him. He tumbled backward and Booster regained the offensive. "What's your track record, you flash in the pan?" He rocketed at his foe. "Who needs you?"
“actually,” Skeets observed, “at this moment, he’sthis panicked
CITY’S ONLY SOURCE OF LIGHT!”
But Booster was past caring. Driven by what appeared to be an uncontrollable rage, he delivered an uppercut to Supernova's chin. "You think I'm a joke?" He threw his weight into the blow, staggering his opponent. "How funny am I now? Huh?"
"You're too pathetic to be a joke, Gold!" Supernova taunted him, even as Booster punched him in the face with his left. Supernova's blue hood made it impossible to tell how much damage Booster was inflicting. "You're just a loser!"
TJiis is getting out of hand, Clark thought. He managed to squeeze his way to the front of the crowd, but, without his powers, he knew better than to get between two super-powered combatants. He could only hope that either Booster or Supernova would come to his senses before anyone got seriously hurt.
“Booster!” Skeets paged him urgently, “control yourself: according TO MY SENSORS, we HAVE AN UNFORESEEN SITUATION. WHEN THE SEA CREATURE BREACHED THE SUBMARINE’S HULL, HE
must have damaged its nuclear engines!” Clark tensed, not liking the sound of this, “it’s leaking radiation into the area—and the
REACTOR CORE IS IN DANGER OF EXPLODING!”
Great Rao! Clark thought in alarm, invoking an ancient Kryptonian deity. He instinctively looked for a place to change, then remembered that he wasn't wearing his Superman uniform under his clothes. He stared helplessly at the lifeless sub, which was perched atop a mountain of rubble where a section of the monorail track had once been. A layer of gray, soundproof rubber insulated its steel-alloy hull. The derelict vessel was over three hundred feet long and probably weighed four thousand tons or so. Curious citizens, who had been poking around the sub, suddenly scurried away in fear.
Clark couldn't blame them.
To his credit, Supernova immediately attempted to take charge of the situation. "Gold, clear the area!" he instructed the other hero, putting their personal differences on hold. He turned toward the radioactive sub. "I'll handle the—"
"NO!" Booster blurted. Rushing past Supernova, he elbowed his rival in the face. "This one's mine!" He soared into the air above the beached submarine. "Skeets, reprogram my suit to process that radiation! If I Can route that power directly into my force field and antigrav, we can make ourselves some history and show the new guy who's boss!"
Bright golden tractor beams emanated from his palms, latching onto the massive submarine. A shimmering halo enveloped the vessel from bow to stern. The beached vessel rocked atop the heaped debris.
"Run!" someone shouted. If nothing else, Skeets' announcement of the radiation leak had served to clear out the crowd confining Clark. As his fellow citizens abandoned the site in droves, he hurried forward to join Supernova. The masked hero nodded at Clark, recognizing him from their interview five weeks ago. Together, they watched anxiously as Booster Gold attempted to deal with the crisis at hand.
"Kent, what's he doing?"
"More than ... my God ... I ever thought he could," Clark admitted as, before his eyes, Booster landed atop the sub. The glow from his ship-sized force field illuminated the blacked-out city. Clark squinted against the glare.
"Hey, Metropolis!" Booster stood triumphantly astride the sub's conning tower as he addressed the awestruck populace below. "You want a big, shiny star to light your skies. Well, here I am!"
The entire submar ine lifted off into the sky, rising rapidly above the imperiled city. Thousands of tons in weight, it looked like the LexCorp blimp, except brighter. Much, much brighter.
“sir!” Skeets shouted desperately. The robot hovered near Clark and Supernova, as if reluctant to get too close to Booster's spectacular display., “your
FORCE FIELD! THE STRAIN ON THE SUIT IS TOO—”
Booster ignored Skeets' frantic warning. His voice rang out over Metropolis as the glowing sub ascended higher than the skyscrapers overlooking Midtown.
"That's right, eveiydamnbodyl Forget Supernova! The name with the claim to fame is Booster Gold!" Without his telescopic vision, Clark couldn't even see Booster anymore. Even the captured sub was nothing more than a cigar-shaped UFO in the night sky. Clark guessed that Booster was employing some sort of future technology to amplify his voice so that all could hear it. "And I'm back, baby! I'M BACK!"
A moment later, the sub exploded like a supernova above Metropolis. Clark blinked and averted his eyes as, just for an instant, the night was lit up like a summer afternoon. Clark felt the heat of the explosion against his face and guessed that his face was going to be sunburned in the morning, along with those of everyone else out in the open. For a second, he flashed back to that terrible moment, at the end of the Crisis, when he had been forced to fly straight through the heart of Krypton's red sun. The blazing fireball that had consumed the submarine was almost that intense.
Booster! he thought, fearful for the hero's safety. Did his force field protect him or... ?
“THIS WASN’T IN THE RECORDS!” Skeets Squawked. “THIS WASN’T
supposed to happen!” His optical sensors were turned toward the sky.
“SAVE HIM!”
"We'll catch him, Skeets," Clark tried to reassure the agitated robot, even as Supernova took off into the air. Blue spots danced before Clark's watery eyes, which were still recovering from the blinding glare. He dimly glimpsed a blue and gold figure plummeting from high above the city. "We won't let him fall."
Supernova flew toward the plunging figure. "Oh my God!" he exclaimed through his hood. He reached out to catch the other man. "Hold on, Booster!" He caught the falling hero in his arms. "Hold ..."
His voice trailed off, and Clark's hopes dimmed. Supernova descended slowly from the sky, his own personal radiance reduced by several degrees. Booster's still form sagged limply in the hero's arms. Clark feared the worst as he ran to meet Supernova upon the ground. Skeets zipped ahead of him. "Is he...?"
Supernova shook his head. "I tried to save him," he said somberly.
"No ..." Clark whispered. "No ..."
Although Booster's scorched costume remained intact, all the flesh had been seared from his body. All that was left of Booster Gold was a blackened skeleton inside a loose-fitting costume. Empty eye sockets stared out from behind the cracked golden goggles. The charred skull held little trace of Booster's colorful personality. Born in the twenty-fifth century, he had died only a few years into the twenty-first. .
Skeets sidled forward, “oh, michael . .