by Marv Wolfman
"Luthor, we have the power to fight any enemy, but what you're talking about is changing history. That's been proven impossible." The voice came from a tall bearded man, dressed like a barbarian in a loincloth adorned with bone clasps. His quiet, cultured voice fought his savage appearance.
He announced himself as Travis Morgan, Warlord of Skartaris, wherever that was. Obviously, the man had a story to tell, but at the moment, I'm sad to admit, it was irrelevant.
A small, lithe yellow-skinned figure snaked his way through the crowd, cackling as he shoved his face into Morgan's.
"Giving up already, man? You some kinda cheese-eater? Warlord? Hah!
My yellow ass." Morgan reached for his sword, but the tiny figure was gone, hopping toward Superman-1's side.
I recognized him as the Creeper. I was never sure what his powers were or whether he was actually a crime fighter as he claimed, but his name definitely described the feelings I got whenever I saw him. A wild look flashed across his eyes as he grinned. "Supes, you tell 'im we can do it. Or maybe you wanna pound a couple'a the bad guys here first. 144
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Just 'cause." He glared at Captain Cold, Solomon Grundy and our other foes, and laughed, challenging them to react.
For a moment I was prepared for a battle to break out. I don't know why, but the Joker began to laugh. "Oh, this is rich. Splendid. Wonderful." He gasped between gulps of air. He doubled over, fell to the ground, and kicked his feet like a convulsing two year old.
"Uncle Creepy thinks he can frighten us. You'd like us to fight, wouldn't you? Sorry, but no way, elf boy. We know which side our butter is breaded on."
He sashayed over to the astonished Creeper. Face-to-face, I wasn't sure which of these two lunatics would be easier to deal with. "Banana-boy," the Joker crowed, "We villains are the weird and wacky wild cards not to be trusted, not you."
He pranced around the Creeper as he continued his free-form spiel. "Hell, even my mother at her funeral didn't trust me. Of course she wasn't dead yet and there I was with a rented casket and all. But you, on the other hand, you're one of the good guys and therefore, ergo, guess what: predictable." He leaned into the Creeper and with a mad look in his eyes, kissed him on the cheek. "So, my little plantain, don't go Joker on us. I was crazy long before your eggs got scrambled, and I'll be laughing long after you're just a yellow-smear of roadkill. So as long as we're saving the world with you, guess what? You're not gonna think even once about closing down our party."
The Joker leaned in closer to the Creeper, his already grotesque smile spread even wider. "But once we're out of danger, when you and your heroic gang of idiots are exhausted and more than half dead, guess who's gonna finish the job?"
He turned from the Creeper and with his hands gesturing for applause from his cronies, he re-entered the throng. "Countin' the seconds, creepers jeepers."
Hourman from Earth-2 ignored them and turned to Alex. "Do we know what this villain wants? Can he be reasoned with?"
"There is no reasoning with him." All eyes turned to Pariah now standing next to Lyla. "He asks for nothing and offers no alternative. He causes only destruction."
It was a soft, firm voice that broke through the din. "Only two questions, Luthor. Who is the enemy?" Batman asked. "And what do we need to do to stop him?"
Lyla answered instead. "He calls himself the Anti-Monitor. But that's not his name."
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Blue Beetle laughed. "Good thing. That sorta name kinda limits your job possibilities. 'Sorry, no Monitors around for you to be against. Come back next week. We're expecting a new shipment then." Lyla glared at him. "I said that was not his name. It's what he is: pure antimatter."
"None of this makes any difference," Alex said. "Because events have moved so quickly, I think it would be best for you to return to your worlds, to see your loved ones, and to fully understand the dangers they face as the universes merge."
Luthor glanced at Lyla, looking for approval. He may look like he was seventeen, but I knew he was a baby born just hours before. I didn't know if his growth was just physically accelerated or if, somehow, he actually functioned as an adult.
He continued. "Once you all agree to help, we will go to the final three universes and bring them here, too."
"That's all defensive crap." Per Degaton, one of the villains complained.
"When are we taking out Mr. Bad?"
This time Alex didn't need Lyla's approval to answer. "Once all five universes are out of the Anti-Monitor's reach, we will combine forces and attack."
Psimon's grin scared even me. "We're going to do a helluva lot more than just attack him. When it comes to violence, face it, kid, you're living in our world."
The villains laughed, Joker perhaps the loudest.
I got it and I didn't like it. The joke was on us. We always fought hard to do what was right, but circumstances now demanded that the kid gloves had to come off.
To save the final five universes, the heroes were going to have to learn how to kill.
Aquaman Earth—1
During the early fifth century, Attila The Hun ruled from the Rhine to the Caspian Sea and had begun plans to annex land as far west as Ravenna and Constantinople to the east.
With his brother, Bleda at his side, Attila rode through the still-burning streets of Singidunum, toward the Dunav, a small riverside tavern he frequented many times before. From there he would down some predictably wretched beer while his warriors razed what had proudly been called the Round Fort by the once-mighty Romans.
As they approached, the tavern appeared blurry and out of focus, as if shimmering in waves of heat. But the day was clear and the sun not even at its full height.
Worried about his sight, he reached for Bleda, but saw his brother disappear. He stared at his own hands but they had vanished, too, lost in the shadowy haze.
Attila turned, looking everywhere, but the world he knew was gone. When he could see again, he realized he was still on his horse, Bleda was at his side, a dozen of his warriors were behind him as they had been. But he also saw hundreds of fish swimming past the coral reefs that surrounded them. They were underwater.
He grabbed his throat expecting to drown, but he didn't. Sharks streaked by, barely paying attention. They were after other game.
"Brother, look here." It was Bleda calling him. "You have to see this." Behind his brother he saw great golden temples that stretched into the distance. They were standing at the gates of a city unlike any he had ever dreamed.
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This was no farmer's village ripe for plunder. There were hundreds of buildings here, older than the temples of Rome, but they sparkled like new, lit by a sun-like globe that he instinctively knew, at the ocean floor, could not be the sun he knew.
There were people here, too, and as they swam past they stared at him bewildered by the sight of men riding horses.
"Who are you?" The voice was deep, and though he knew it spoke in a language different from his, he was able to understand it. "I asked who you are."
The man speaking, his hair long and golden, wearing what appeared to be a bright orange shirt and tight green leggings, was riding a giant seahorse. Behind him were two dozen others riding other beasts of the sea. Am I drunk? Is this a nightmare?
"My name is Aquaman," the stranger said. "You're in Atlantis and I'm its king. Who are you?"
Attila shook his head. "You're speaking in a strange language. Why do I understand you?"
"We're using telepathy. My mind reaches into yours. You're instinctively doing the same, even if you didn't know it."
"But why aren't I dead? Why aren't any of us dead? We're underwater. We can't breathe here."
Attila reached for his sword, but faster than he could move, Aquaman grabbed it and snapped it in half. "No weapons." He tossed the pieces aside.
Attila stared at the broken shards. Its steel was the finest made in
Toledo, how could anyone human break it?
He glared at Aquaman. "Atlantis? That's a Greek lie fathers tell children at bedtime. How can you live underwater? How can I? Are you sorcerers? How did you bring me here? Answer me."
Aquaman didn't know how to answer. He closed his eyes and sent a thought to his wife, Mera, on the other side of the city almost two miles away.
"The disturbance brought more strangers here. They look like barbarians. Their leader's confused."
Mera's thoughts washed over him. "I can tell. They're not the only ones. Our northern district's disappeared. I'm looking at an alien colony that appeared in its place. Perhaps a dozen buildings, all made out of some sort of gel."
In his mind, Aquaman could see what his wife was looking at. "I'm 148
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speaking with, I don't know what they are, but they're not from this world. And they don't know how they came here."
Aquaman again sent his thoughts across the city. "Have you heard from Garth and Tula?" Aqualad had been his partner and for a while, a member of the Teen Titans. Tula was not only a soldier in the guard, but Garth's girl friend.
"They're leading a force against the soldiers who appeared in Gorus. They claim to be from Earth's future and they've sworn to destroy us for bringing them here. Do you have any idea what's going on?"
"Right now I wouldn't discount anything. Any word from the Justice League?"
"No one's at their headquarters."
"That could mean they're on the job. Good. Mera, I need to take care of things here. Can you handle the aliens?"
"They're confused, but they don't seem violent."
"Thank Poseidon for small favors. Later then. And I love you."
"As I do you."
"Aquaman."
Garth's voice, unexpected and urgent, exploded in his head. Telepathy not only transmitted thoughts, but emotion.
"Aqualad, what is it?"
"We're under siege. The soldiers... more of them are appearing everywhere. And there's cowboys here, too."
"Cowboys?" Aquaman wasn't sure he understood.
"From America's past. Aquaman, I know how crazy that sounds, but they're here. About fifty of them and they're working with the soldiers." Aqualad's voice quieted and Aquaman could sense him trying to control his emotions. "Tula's been injured. We need help. Soon."
"Garth, try to find a place to hide." Aquaman turned to see Attila, growing angry with impatience. "I'm coming. With my own army. Hang in there." Aquaman floated to Attila's side. "We have questions, too. And enemies. Help us and we'll send you back to where you belong." Attila eyed him suspiciously. He was trying to analyze the Sea King and perhaps make an offer of his own.
Aquaman had no time for negotiation. If the barbarian wasn't responding to requests, perhaps he'd find it easier to understand a threat.
"I want an answer now. My people have protected you so far by letting you breathe underwater. Don't make us rescind our gift." Crisis on Infinite Earths
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Attila glanced at Bleda and his men. With the ocean surrounding them, they were still cautiously taking each breath as if it could be their last. Though he doubted this King of Atlantis would let them die beneath the sea, he and his men were in no position to make outrageous demands. Still, he thought, to take away the sting of subservience, there had to be a way to get something for their service.
"You have great wealth here, King Aquaman. Share it with us and we will gladly ride at your side. I give you the word of Attila." Attila the Hun.
Aquaman reeled at the name. There wasn't time to figure out how a fifth century Hun appeared in Atlantis. Aquaman needed his power to save Garth, Tula and the others. As he saw Attila unsheathe a hidden second blade, he knew he had no other choice.
"All right. You'll have your pick of treasure. But if you betray us I swear that what's left of your bodies when the sharks are done with it will never be found."
Attila's smile was thin and frightening. "An empty threat, Fishman. If I turn on you, it will be your blood that feeds the fish. But we should go. Your friends need our arms and I look forward to acquiring your treasure." Aquaman said nothing but was secretly pleased; now they could both claim victory. "This way," he pointed as he swam north toward Gorus. A sword's tip behind him was the undisputed tyrant of fifth century Earth. Ahead of them Garth and Tula were in a war with soldiers from the future and cowboys from America's past. And, at the Palace, Mera was negotiating with aliens from some unknown planet.
Aquaman prayed that the Justice League knew what to do, because he certainly didn't.
Forty
I followed Green Lantern back to Coast City, about twenty miles north of San Diego. Its long, winding shoreline was dotted with beautiful beaches and expensive hotels.
Jutting into the ocean to the west was a peninsula controlled by the U.S. Navy. More than two thousand sailors lived there, rotating in and out depending on the political circumstances of the moment. The H.M.S. Exeter was anchored off shore and British sailors were seen wandering the Coast City streets and shopping malls. Green Lantern flew past Ferris Aircraft on his way to the Coast City Marina. Hal Jordan worked at Ferris. For years he'd been my best friend and I desperately wanted to see him now, but even if I did what good could come of it?
Hal wouldn't know I was there. We couldn't talk. He was no longer Green Lantern and even if he was, there was nothing he could do to help me.
Maybe it was kinder not to involve him in this now. I continued following Jon as he circled over what used to be the marina just behind the city's huge convention center. The marina, which had once sprawled on for blocks, was no longer there, replaced instead by what turned out to be the rolling hillside and gentle valley of the Marne river about 75 miles north of Paris, France, circa 1917.
The lush battleground, stained with the blood of Americans and Germans, pushed through half the convention center all the way to Broadway. This was, I had to keep reminding myself, modern Coast City. Time and place truly no longer had any meaning.
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Marne. The German 7th Army moved down from the north, its handpicked shock troops, equipped with machine guns, easily cut through the American resistance.
The German General pointed to an area outside the war perimeter where he could see half of the still-existing convention center rise up where the river abruptly ended. He sent some of his men to investigate while his other shock troops continued their advance.
If they made it into Coast City's downtown I knew there would be even more chaos. But I also knew I couldn't help the poor Americans caught in the overwhelming attack. I followed the Germans as they moved toward the convention center.
As I ran, I saw above me a blazing red German Fokker tri-plane with a large black Iron Cross emblazoned on its side. Its pilot fired on Green Lantern.
Jon's ring protected him with a full body shield as he circled the Fokker. These people, he knew, were fighting a war that took place shy of a hundred years before. He could easily use his Power Ring to eliminate the pilot as well as the German soldiers, but Jon had sworn he would never kill. He swept past the tri-plane and gestured for the pilot to move on. But the pilot—I'm sure he was astonished at the sight of a flying man—banked the Fokker into a dive, then circled back up and behind Green Lantern, once again firing at him.
His bullets splayed off Jon's emerald shield, caroming them back into the tri-plane's wings. The plane began to fall. At first I didn't see why, but then I noticed a stream of smoke gush out from its fuel tank. Jon's ring flashed again. He created a long curved ramp under the Fokker's wheels that carried it safely to the ground. As the plane hobbled in for its landing, I saw its pilot, a gaunt-faced German in a green overcoat with a dark brown fur collar. The enemy ace acknowledged Green Lantern's help with a sharp salute.
Lantern arced back toward the Germans advancing on the convent
ion center. In another minute they would be out of the war zone and into Coast City. I saw Jon's eyes close as he concentrated, envisioning a large dome that circled the war zone, isolating it from the rest of the city. The soldiers pounded on the emerald wall but couldn't push their way through. They fired their machine guns at it, also to no avail. Inside the dome, Jon created several smaller walls preventing the Germans from reaching the wounded American soldiers. Keep them apart. Don't let them kill each other. At least not right now. 152
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Satisfied that he had done all he could, Jon flew off. I thought I might follow, but decided against it.
Instead, I circled back toward Ferris Aircraft.
Forty-one
I made my way through the security gate and ran past the hangars where pilots and mechanics worked on their new designs. Ferris was the industry leader in new tech, and Hal, although he'd been there for nearly two decades—he began with them while in his teens—was still their best test pilot.
I raced for the company cafeteria. It was early afternoon and Hal would most likely be eating a late lunch. A burger or a BLT on rye, fries of course—
he never had a problem with fatty foods—a milk shake and coffee. I never understood that combination but then he never understood why I needed to pack away two or three full-sized pizza pies for a quick snack. I saw his best friend, the mechanic Tom Kalmaku, walking with Carol Ferris, Ferris' CEO, as they entered the cafeteria. They were talking airplane mechanics. I hung around for another minute hoping they might mention Hal, but when the conversation got deeper into ion engines, I quickly left them behind.
I was a forensics scientist. Airplane mechanics was not even close to my specialty.
I was aware that if I found him I couldn't let Hal know I was alive, or whatever it was that I was. But I thought if I could see him one more time it would make me, I don't know, happy, I guess.
Hal wasn't in the cafeteria, so I checked the gym. He wasn't there either. I sped in and out of every hangar, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Just in case, I checked the company tennis courts. Zip. Maybe he hadn't come to work today. Maybe he took off for a lunch elsewhere or was demonstrating one of Carol's jets somewhere else in the world. Knowing Hal, he could be anywhere.
