The Thin Red Line
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
This is set in the Justice Lords universe. There are some spoilers for "A Better World," parts 1 and 2. This is pretty dark but the idea's been nagging me for awhile. I considered different villains but this scenario seemed to work best. There are nods to "Flash and Substance," but no particular spoilers for that episode.
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The regulars at the bar ignored the man slumped over at the corner table. It was odd seeing a gringo in here but this was the sort of place where everyone minded their own business while they got as drunk as possible.
James Jesse was exceptionally grateful for that right now. He wasn't as drunk as he wanted to be and really he couldn't afford to be too relaxed. But when you were the last villain on earth with the constant threat of insane former superheroes after you, getting a little drunk now and then was almost a necessity. Otherwise he might just go stark raving mad from the pressure.
A giggle escaped his lips at that thought despite his best efforts to keep quiet but there was no one close enough to hear him. The bar wasn't that crowded this early on a Tuesday night. He'd be gone before closing anyway. Staying in any one place for too long would attract attention and that he couldn't have. Not any more.
The days of prancing around in his colorful costume, playing pranks on the Flash were long gone. It had been all fun and games until President Luthor had killed the Flash. And then there was no more fun and no more games for any of his kind.
The Justice Lords had hunted down every last villain and either killed or lobotomized them. Sometimes when he was at his lowest, James wondered which he'd prefer if they ever caught him. Not that he'd be given a choice.
As far as he knew, he was the only former supervillain still free. If he could call a life spent in constant fear, "free." It was especially surprising since the Flash Rogues had suffered much worse fates then most. It didn't matter that even the Flash had considered most of his Rogue's Gallery fairly harmless. All that mattered to the Justice Lords was that these people had tried to do to Flash what Luthor had succeeded at and for that they had to pay.
Mirror Master was dead. James wasn't even sure how. His informants said the details were too gruesome to repeat. Captain Cold had been frozen by Superman's cold breath and then shattered into a million fragments by Wonder Woman's punch. Captain Boomerang had been beheaded by one of his own razor-sharp boomerangs as he begged Hawkwoman for his life. Even the Joker got to live but someone as pathetic as Rainbow Raider had died because he was one of Flash's foes.
The Fiddler, the Top, the Turtle were all gone. People he'd drank with, laughed with, commiserated with were dust and ashes. But the Pied Piper's fate was the hardest for James to take. He'd outright cried when he'd heard what happened to his friend.
In the same mental institution he'd often been held in himself, Hartley Rathaway sat in a straitjacket in some small room, staring at nothing and rocking back and forth. Superman had used his sonic boom to destroy Hartley's auditory nerves. The second loss of his hearing and the loss of all of his friends had made Hartley's mind snap. They hadn't even needed to lobotomize him. He'd done it to himself.
Now, James sat in some little bar in Paraguay and wondered how much longer he could go on. Almost three years of his life had been spent like this but it felt like an eternity. Every loud noise, every sudden movement by those around him made him jump. His nerves were shot and the occasional urge to just give up and accept whatever fate he was assigned, seemed to arise more and more.
None of his old friends would recognize him. His messy blond hair was now cut short and dyed black. He'd grown a goatee to hide some of the lines of his face and he looked older than he actually was. The clothing he wore was subdued and drab with no bright colors to give any hint to his past as the Trickster.
Stress had brought lines to his face and a tremor to his voice. Only his medication kept him half-way sane and his supply of that was nearly gone. It was available in this country but stealing it would catch the attention of the Justice Lords and he didn't trust any doctor enough to bother trying to get a prescription.
The only thing to do would be to contact his supporters yet again and that was always a risky endeavor. There was a secret underground movement that was trying to resist the rule of the Lords. It was hard to do with a telepath and the world's greatest detective against them but they'd managed so far. He had contacts with them that would make sure he got what he needed but every contact was a possible way for him to be tracked. Still, he had to take a chance. Without the meds, he'd likely end up donning some approximation of his old costume and start laughing at the sky, yelling for the Flash to come face him again.
He'd tried cutting back on the dosage to make the supply last longer. But then he'd found himself planning tricks in his head and studying brightly-colored clothes for his size. His mind would zone out and suddenly he'd be holding yellow fabric in some tiny village market and contemplating the varied usages of rotten fruit and a potato gun.
The resistance fighters put their lives on the line to keep him free. He had no right to just throw that away with carelessness. Although, most of them would only face jail time if they were caught, they were still in danger. He was a symbol of the resistance. If he were caught, they'd go on but it would be harder for them. James couldn't afford to be selfish these days. He could have spent weeks just wallowing in self-pity but the thought of the resistance crushed, and the whole planet under the heel of the Justice Lords made him angry enough to keep going.
And to think, the world had once looked up to them, called them heroes, and expected their intervention in every crisis. Look where it had got them. A life lived under the heels of super-powered beings who crushed every dissent without mercy. Who would ever have thought that the symbol of hope would end up being a psychotic human with a penchant for bright colors and playing pranks?
It was nearly midnight when he paid for his last drink and walked outside into the empty marketplace. There were a few other people moving around but no one paid him any mind as he headed back towards his hotel.
As he reached the far end of the square, a nearby church bell began tolling. He jumped slightly and then shrugged it off. After the twelfth toll, it occurred to him that there was something special about today, this new day he was starting. His mind slightly addled by having more drinks then he'd intended to, he stopped walking to puzzle it out.
August twenty-third, what did that mean...? When the answer finally came, he felt like vomiting and not just from the drink. Today was Flash Day.
Three years ago today, Lex Luthor had killed the Flash and ushered in the reign of the Justice Lords. Today was the anniversary of the last day of global freedom before everything had fallen apart. It hadn't been the exact next day that they had taken over but once Superman had killed Luthor, they'd crossed that line and never looked back.
In Central City, there would be solemn ceremonies of remembrance and grief. The sad thing was, the citizens really did grieve the Flash's death. He had been a true superhero, a paragon of virtue and compassion. The Justice Lords weren't worthy to compare themselves with him.
He wanted to curse the Justice Lords at the top of his lungs. He wanted to fill the Batcave with stink bombs and rig the Fortress of Solitude to play the loudest heavy metal he could find until Superman's ears bled from the noise. He wanted to make all of them pay for what they had done but all he could do was imagine their varied punishments as he staggered back towards his hotel room.
He was within sight of the hotel door when the air flared green around him and a force ripped him off his feet to slam against the brick wall of the building behind him. He looked up with dawning horror to see Green Lantern floating above him with a look of disgust on his face. They'd finally found him.
"End of the line, Trickster. You're going to pay for your crimes."
James strained every muscle in an instinctive need to get free but it was useless. He couldn't move an inch. He registered movement out of the corner of his eye and then Batman and Wonder Woman were there as well, flanking Green Lantern. Superman, Hawkgirl, and the Martian Manhunter floated down from above to join their fellow Justice Lords in a half-circle around the pinned Trickster.
Oh God. He was so screwed. There was no way he could escape all of them. This was the end of the line, the final curtain on his performance and there was nothing he could do to stop it. There was only one ploy he could think to use and it probably wouldn't work but he had nothing to lose.
"Please, you don't need to do this. I'm no threat to anyone. I'm just a kook. I don't even have any superpowers."
"Neither did the Joker." Batman said in a low voice. "You tried to kill the Flash on numerous occasions. I'd say that makes you a threat."
"How did you find me?" One trick he'd learned over the years was that heroes loved explaining themselves as much as any villain ever did. If he could stall them long enough, maybe some miracle would happen and he'd be able to get away.
"We always knew where you were." The Martian Manhunter shapeshifted smoothly into a familiar face. Linda Park had been the one who started the underground. She had been the one who helped him all these years. "What better way to keep tabs on our enemies then to give them a venue where they could condemn themselves through their own actions? By starting the underground, we were able to discover who were willing to oppose us and who would not."
"And the real Linda?" He dreaded the answer. They might still claim to be heroes but he wouldn't put it past them to murder an innocent woman if it suited them.
"Ms. Park is one of our honored guests. We would never harm her, despite what you're thinking."
"Why now? You've left me alone for three years. Why would you take me down now?"
"We have enough information on dissenters. You are no longer needed. The time for your judgment is at hand."
"Wally wouldn't want this. He tried to help me...uhhh." James felt the breath leave him as he was pulled away from the wall and then slammed back into it again. Green Lantern's expression was furious.
"Don't you dare even say his name! He gave his life trying to protect the world from scum like you and now you're going to pay."
Reminding them of Wally's compassion had been the only card left for him to play. Obviously, it had failed and now there was nothing to do but await his fate. He searched their faces but there was no mercy to be found from the Justice Lords.
"James Jesse, aka the Trickster, aka Giovanni Guiseppe, you are guilty of the crimes of attempted murder, sedition, and treachery. The sentence is oblivion."
James stared directly into Superman's eyes, watching as they began to glow red. He tried to control his breathing, tried to meet his fate with dignity but he couldn't help the low whimper of fright that escaped him. Muscles strained instinctively as his brain tried to obey the flight response triggered by his fear but it was useless. They'd won and there was no one left on this planet to oppose them.
The last free man on Earth died in a flash of red and then there were only ashes to mark the life of the Trickster. The Justice Lords walked away, without a second glance back, their uniforms sprinkled with ash and their reign secure.
A/N: I almost didn't want to finish this after reading "Crisis on Infinite Earths #22," but I eventually managed to complete it. I thought it was fascinating in that two-parter that all of Batman's foes, even the Joker, were lobotomized rather than dead. But once they killed Luthor and took over, there were bound to be other villains they'd rather kill than let live. Unfortunately for the Flash villains, that would probably include them.