Elseworlds:
The Legend of the Batwoman (Part 2)
By C.W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)
DISCLAIMER: Most of the
characters portrayed in this story are © 2001 by DC Comics, a Time-Warner
company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit by
the author. Use of these characters without the express permission of DC Comics
Inc. is a violation of the copyright. However, copyright holders may choose not
to exercise their rights under the law, but this should never be construed as
an endorsement.
This original work of fiction, as
well as any original characters, are © 2001 by C.W. Blaine. All comments,
concerns and questions may be directed to the e-mail address above. Please, if
you wish to archive this work, contact the author. As of the writing of this
story, no requests have ever been denied.
Elseworlds – stories, situations or events involving familiar characters in unfamiliar settings [a paraphrasing of the official DC definition)…
MAYOR, POLICE COMMISSIONER DENY
EXISTENCE OF BATWOMAN
Gotham City
Gazette
September 29,
1953
Amid several rumors that have been circulating through all social circles in Gotham City, the Mayor held a press conference earlier today in which he, accompanied by Police Commissioner Kane, denied the existence of the so-called "Batwoman". While stories vary, there are certain elements to each tale that are similar. Eyewitnesses have described the mysterious Damsel of the Dark to be between twenty and forty years of age with long, dark hair and clad in a form fitting costume. Originally, the costume was described as being yellow and red in color, but has since been replaced by a gray and black ensemble.
Mayor Dixon was quoted as saying; "I wish to make it
absolutely clear that neither this city government, nor its public safety
services, acknowledges the existence of this Batwoman. As far as we are
concerned, she is nothing more than an urban myth, a legend dreamed up by the
criminal underworld to throw the public view away from their activities. The
only woman who is cavorting around this city at night, in a shameful disregard
for law and order, is Harley Quinn. The good citizens of Gotham City do not
need to be concerned with fairy tales when we have real monsters to deal with."
Despite the Mayor's assurances, most citizens still
believe that the Batwoman is real. If she is, according to District Attorney
Harvey Dent, she would be in serious trouble. "Even though this character
appears to be working for the good of society, and I am applying a very liberal
definition here, she would still be in violation of the Superhuman Registration
Act and subject to federal prosecution," Dent said when posed the question of
the Batwoman's existence. He went on further to state that his office is not
working with the mysterious vigilante either.
It was some four years ago when the last
super-heroes of Gotham City, Green Lantern and Black Canary, officially
retired, rather than submit their secret identities to congress. Under the
direction of Senator Lex Luthor, whom many agree may be a viable presidential
candidate in 1960, congress instituted sweeping reforms meant to curb the
violence and suspicion associated with so-called super-heroes and
super-villains. Since passing of the law, some 99% of the costumed adventurers
active some decade ago have simply disappeared.
*****
Newly appointed Chief Inspector
James Gordon stood on the rooftop, smoking his fifth cigarette in an hour. He
always arrived early, just so that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to catch
how she was able to sneak onto the roof so quietly. He had just taken a drag
when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, the cigarette falling to the
ground; his had reaching for his service revolver. A firm, yet feminine grip
held his hand in place. "Please don't shoot, officer," the Batwoman said with a
smile.
Each and every time James Gordon
came face to face with the mysterious woman clad in black leather, he felt his
heart skip a beat. There was something very alluring about her, the way the
costume hugged her form, accentuated it. There was an air of danger about her
as well, but it was her eyes, the deep blue of them with the sweet cherry
redness of her lips that had caused him to fall in love with her.
For over a year now, they had been
working together, ever since she first arrived on the scene, taking out bagmen
for the Quinn gang and leaving them tied up for him to find. Late one night,
she had approached him, introduced herself. Under the law, he should have
arrested her right then and there, but he found himself enchanted by her
presence. She wore no perfume that night, but there was a scent to her, a smell
that had made his mind wander to darker corners that he hadn't visited since
his stint in the army.
At the time, she had been wearing
that awful yellow body suit with the red cape and cowl, and he had commented
that it made her stick out too much in a crowd. The next time they met, she had
changed her look to the current black leather.
He removed his hand from his
weapon and breathed out slowly. "How do you do that?" he asked.
She stepped into the shadows.
"Practice. I had some good teachers as well."
"So I understand," he said,
reaching down to pick up the cigarette. He knew she disapproved, just as his
wife did. His wife, however, had been far from his mind since he had met the
Batwoman. Tonight marked the two-month anniversary of his separation. "I did
some checking and you were right. About a month ago, a female version of the
hero called Air Wave began roaming the streets of New York. I asked an old
military police buddy of mine on the NYPD to get a message to her."
"Thank you, James, it means a lot
to me," she said, maintaining her distance. James Gordon was a good and honest
cop, in a town where Harley Quinn was buying off more and more police officers.
He had his problems: smoking, drinking and a desire to sleep with her, but he
still had a good heart and soul. He had confessed his feelings for her only a
week before, catching her completely off guard. "I think I should be going
now."
He reached out and grabbed her
arm. "Please, don't go. Ever since you…turned me down, you've been distant.
It's going to affect our working relationship. This city needs you more than I
do."
She smiled at him, realizing he
was doing his best to mend the broken bridge between them. She had to meet him
halfway because he was right. Batwoman was making a real difference, but she
wouldn't be able to without her partner. She had no forensics training, no
background in investigation, which he did. He was the brains, for lack of a
better term, and she was the muscle. "I know, I'm sorry…I just…I'm involved
with someone else…"
Finally, the truth was coming out
and James was actually relieved. It wasn't that she wasn't interested; it was
that she was already taken. "Well, he's a lucky man then…it is a man, right?"
She put her arms across her chest
and seemed to grow in height, overshadowing him. "Are you the one who started
that rumor?"
They laughed like two old friends.
The gap had been filled. "Aw, hell, I've made a mess of everything, haven't I?
I'm surprised my daughter still talks to me."
"Barbara?" He looked surprised
that she knew his daughter's name. "A beautiful child. She needs her father.
Her mother needs her husband as well. Don't think you've broken something and
it can't be fixed, James. Believe me, there is nothing worse than losing
someone you love."
They were silent for a moment, and
then Batwoman threw a line over to the next building and then leapt into the
night. James Gordon finished his cigarette and hurried back inside.
To call his wife.
"Alan?" Matty called as she
entered Wayne Manor from the secret staircase that led down to the Bat Cave.
The Bat Cave had originally been a hiding place for slaves using the
Underground Railroad to move farther north. It now served as her headquarters.
Clad only in the robe and house
slippers that Alfred had left out for her, she padded along through the dark halls
and rooms of the house of her deceased husband's family. Alan Scott, the former
Green Lantern, had been staying here on the weekends. It was no secret that the
former Mrs. Thomas Wayne and entertainment mogul Alan Scott were an item now,
and the Gotham society pages were filled with predictions of when the two would
eventually marry.
Alan had been a godsend, an angel
of mercy that had helped her through an extremely difficult time in her life.
His experience as a super-hero had served her well this past year, but it was
his ability to love her for who she was that had saved her from insanity.
The loss of both Thomas and Bruce
had been pure hell; the realization that she had been powerless to stop it was
even worse. Despite being in great shape and being young, she had not been able
to stop a deranged woman from putting a bullet through her son and her husband.
A young, beautiful and vulnerable woman, who happened to be worth millions, was
a fine catch for many men of low moral character. Had it not been for strong
friends like Alfred, Ted Grant and Alan, she may have succumbed to either her
baser desires and committed suicide, or maybe even worse.
She had seen, during the war, many
young wives, after receiving word of their husband's deaths, immerse themselves
into a secret world of drink, drugs and sex. So many scandals rocked the
flowers of society during those awful years and it wasn't until she too had
suffered a loss that she had understood. The temptation to drink yourself into
oblivion, or to find temporary solace in the bed of some stranger was almost
overwhelming.
She had expected Alan to be
waiting for her, since Alfred had the night off and actually had a date with an
up and coming physician named Thompkins; Leslie was her first name Matty thought.
She had wanted to talk to him about James and his proposal the other night; not
a proposal of marriage, but something more akin to two dogs in heat stuck
together in an alleyway. It had surprised her; her upbringing did not prepare
her for such advances, but then she realized that it also hadn't readied her
for a life of fighting crime while wearing some leather battle armor.
Had it been tempting? Not really,
though she couldn't say that James Gordon was a bad looking man. Unfortunately
for the police inspector, when you hung around men with physiques like Ted
Grant, Al Pratt or Alan Scott, it took more than a winning personality to get
you to do things you only whispered about to your closest girlfriends.
It had, however, opened a whole
slew of questions in Matty's mind. Certainly her and Alan were now lovers, but
was their relationship anything else? Alan had confessed to a rocky two
marriages in less than a decade, which made him gun-shy about the subject.
Matty, however, was not content to spend the rest of her life being his
"concubine".
She found him in the library,
smoking a pipe and for an instant, she caught a fleeting memory of her late
husband. "Alan?'
The blonde-haired man looked up
and smiled. "Matty! I didn't hear you…this is the first time I've ever actually
been in here, believe it or not. Your husband was quite the collector. There
are some very impressive works in here."
"Actually, the library is mine,"
she said with a smile and she walked over to the bar. She kicked off her slippers
and let her bare feet sink into the plush carpeting. "Must you smoke?"
He gazed at the pipe. "Sorry,
dear, I keep forgetting," he apologized as he looked for an ashtray.
"Well, a pipe does smell better
than cigarettes. I swear, I'm never going to get that smell out of my hair,"
she said, examining her mane.
"I think it makes you smell like a
woman of low morals," Alan said with a smile. "I like my women cheap."
She poured some scotch and took a
long drink. "You are such a charmer, Mr. Scott."
"Did you find out about the Air
Wave sighting?" he asked, sitting down.
She crossed the room and sat on
his lap. His hand rested on her bare thigh. "Yes, but it's a woman,
apparently."
He stroked her flesh. "Larry
Jordan was killed a couple of months back, he was the original Air Wave. He
operated on and off during the war, never a joiner, but a good egg overall.
I'll bet this new one is his wife, Helen. Seems to be a growing trend, don't
you think?"
She ignored the comment. "I want
to try and set up a meeting with her, see if we can pull resources."
"You mean, form your own Justice
Society? Not a good idea, Matty."
She set her drink down and shifted
to straddle him. His hands moved to open her robe. "Let's talk about this
tomorrow, okay?" she asked.
His reply came in the form of a
hot and passionate kiss.
Harley Quinn did not have
thoughts, as much as her thoughts had a hold of her. Madness would have been
nice, she would often tell herself, because that was treatable. Ever since
those damn experiments with those damn drugs right after the war…
She swatted the memories as if
they were annoying gnats and turned her attention to her current captive
audience. Naked, bleeding and bound, Harvey Dent was shivering in fear as the
Marionette of Malice decided his fate. "Harvey, Harvey, Harvey," she said,
waving a single finger in front of his face. "Does it hurt, you know, where
Johnny there," she indicated a large ape of a man in the corner, "showed you
his special form of love?"
The attorney said nothing, but
only grunted from behind swollen lips. He had been kidnapped earlier that day
from his home; his family was away at relatives so nobody knew he was gone.
"Now, you and Mr. Mayor have said
some very unpleasant things about me," Harley said, walking over to another of
her henchmen. "Stuff like you were going to put me in jail and that I was…"
"Going to fry for your crimes,"
the henchman finished for her. She smiled at the man, he was her favorite.
Smart as an owl, hung like a horse she would tell people.
"So, I'm thinking, what can I do
to send a message to the mayor and the police to leave me alone? I ask you,
Harvey, what would be the perfect warning to back off?" She approached him and
grabbed his chin; he averted his eyes from her maddening gaze. "Let's just say
that I've got plans for you Harvey, and none of them are pleasant."
She let him go and stood up
straight to stretch. She purposely stuck her chest out a little too far, just
so she could watch Ivy stare at her longingly. The former botanist, who was now
in charge of Harley's narcotics businesses, was not shy about her choice of
lifestyle. "My associate, Ivy, the redhead over there with the evil smile,"
Harley began, "she has discovered some simply marvelous things in her work with
plants. You would be surprised what a little soil and some fertilizer will give
you these days, Harvey. But before we get to that fun, you are going to tell me
all about the investigation into my activities. I want to know what cops are
involved, and what they know."
Two hours later, Harvey Dent
passed out from the pain of his torture. His mind was completely blank from the
pain and he did not remember giving Harley James Gordon's name.
*****
James Gordon gripped the steering
wheel tightly as he slowly gained speed along Highway 113. An early snowstorm
was blanketing Gotham City and driving was now as hazardous as his daily duties
with the police department. His wife slept at his side, his daughter laid out in
the back seat, also asleep. It had been a long drive.
It had been a long day.
His brother had died suddenly, a
heart attack the doctors had said, probably brought on by the two packs of
Camels he smoked for two thirds of his short life. He had always been James'
hero, just as any older brother was, and his loss was devastating. His brother
had been his last living relative, their parents having died many years before.
His wife had no family either, and now he was sure that the Gordon name was
going to die with him.
His wife and him had reconciled,
but only with many conditions including giving up smoking and drinking. He also
had to start going back to church, though he didn't really see the point.
Despite the outward appearances, he still had strong sexual feelings
towards the Batwoman. When he made love to his wife, it was not her face he
looked down into, but instead he saw only that black cowl and the raven dark
hair of his secret partner.
Going back to his wife had done
Barbara some good, as the 14 year old had returned to her normal spunky self.
She was a bundle of energy that was for sure, from day one. Her birth had
nearly taken the life of her mother and ensured that no more Gordon children
would be sired. In the end, it didn't matter, because James loved his daughter
more than he lusted for any costumed temptress.
He smiled at the thought. He
didn't think Batwoman would appreciate being referred to in such a way. He had
noted it from the beginning of their relationship, the way she spoke, the hint
of a New England accent. She carried herself in a way that suggested she was
used to people grading her appearance and manners. To Jim, that indicated money
and power. That left very few possible suspects in the Gotham City area that
could possibly be the alter ego of the Batwoman. James was pretty sure that he
knew who she was, but he didn't want to spoil the surprise.
The radio announced that District
Attorney Harvey Dent still had not come out of his coma, and that the police
were still maintaining a constant vigil over the man. He had been assaulted,
sodomized and tortured, from what James had been able to tell. For what reason
was anyone's guess. Even the Batwoman was unable to get any information out of
her normal stool pigeons in the criminal underworld, but both she and James
were sure that Harley Quinn was behind it.
James was considering sharing all
of his information with Batwoman, the entire dossier he had compiled on Harley
Quinn. He had held off until now, due to a matter of pride. She did not reveal
her secrets to him, so why should he reveal his to her? It was stupid to even
debate the issue, James knew, since innocent people were suffering. Quinn had
to be stopped; and he knew that the Batwoman was probably the only person
capable of bringing her in…alive.
James turned off the highway and
his headlights shined onto another car pulled over on the side of the road, a
figure hunched over the engine compartment. "Helluva night to have that kind of
trouble," James said as he brought his own vehicle to a stop. He had no choice;
as a sworn law enforcement officer, he couldn't, in all good conscience, leave
someone stranded out in this weather.
As engaged the emergency brake and
ensured his car was out of gear, his wife awoke. "James? What is it, why are we
stopped?"
He buttoned the top button of his
coat. "Somebody is pulled over out here with car trouble' I'm going to see if
they need any help."
"Well, hurry," she said, concern
in her voice.
For a moment, he felt a twinge of
guilt, for having, somewhere, lost the feelings for her he had as a younger
man. It wasn't that she was unattractive; she had actually become more
beautiful as the years went on. Sometime after Barbara was born, however, she
had changed. The young woman who enjoyed sneaking off with the young army
private for a night of fun had been replaced by a worrisome…busy body.
That was, he supposed, is what
attracted him to women like the Batwoman, the excitement of doing something
secret and getting away with it. "I'll be fine, dear," he finally said as he
got out.
The bitter cold stung his exposed
face and he shoved his hands into his coat pockets to protect them from the
wind. As he approached the other vehicle, the owner saw him and turned towards
him. James was only three feet away, about to ask what the problem was when the
other man pulled out an automatic. "Happy fucking Thanksgiving, copper," the
man said before pulling the trigger.
James' wife heard something over
the howl of the storm and saw flashes of light from where her husband was
standing. When he fell, she became very concerned, as what was happening was
not fully registering in her mind. Looking back and seeing that Barbara was
okay, she pulled her coat closed and opened the door. "James! Are you alright?"
she called over the storm's fury.
The gunman took in a deep breath
and aimed carefully. A shot in this weather with an automatic pistol at this
distance was impossible for just about any one except him. Slade Wilson, former
army Ranger and now underworld assassin, gently pulled the trigger. Even in the
darkness, he could make out the telltale splatter of brains as the bullet
entered the woman's skull and ended her life.
The woman fell and Slade walked
towards the car, to check and make sure she was dead when he saw a pair of
headlights coming down the road. "Damn!" he cursed. He ran back to his own car,
stepping over the dead form of James Gordon and slammed his hood. In minutes,
he was traveling at as high of speed as he could muster in the weather to put
some distance between himself and the scene of the crime.
"Madam, I believe there is a
vehicle disabled on the side of the road," Alfred said with certainty.
Matty Wayne sat up in the seat and
looked out the front window. She could see a car with its headlights on, parked
on the side of the road. She knew that they would be late now for the dinner
party being held at the Drake's, but it couldn't be helped. She wished Alan was
here, but he had gone to Egypt to visit his friend Carter Hall, an
archeologist. He had begged her to go as well, but she had refused, not wanting
to leave her city for even a moment.
Her city. She
liked the sound of that. "Do pull over Alfred and see if they need…" She broke
off suddenly as the lights of her own car caught the human form laying in the
middle of the road, being covered slowly by snow. She could see steam rising
from the chest of the body. Even in her short career as a super-hero, she had
seen this too many times.
As the car stopped, both she and
Alfred ran immediately to the body. He had a good start on her, as she was in a
formal evening gown, which did not lend itself to such things as running in the
middle of the night. As she approached, Alfred immediately stood up.
"Madam…don't…"
For her loyal butler to give such
an ominous warning, Matty knew that she was about to experience something that
would profoundly change her life. The best advice would be not to look, but
instead rely on the descriptions she would later receive from Alfred; but Matty
was not known for following good advice.
She brushed past him and looked
down to see the fallen form of her friend and admirer. His eyes were wide open,
as if he was totally shocked by what had occurred. Two bloody holes were in his
exposed shirt and the snow around the body melted immediately upon touching the
blood. His body was still warm; this had only happened minutes before.
A sudden scream, feral and
anguished, broke through the sound of nature's wraith and both Alfred and Matty
turned towards the other car. Alfred rushed ahead of his employer and stopped
at the passenger side front fender. Matty caught up and saw what was left of
Mrs. James Gordon on the roadside, a young redheaded girl on her knees before
the body, sobbing. "Momma…please get up…" the girl repeated over and over,
breaking it with sobs. She then turned and saw Alfred and Matty standing there,
like two overdressed angels, their figures silhouetted by Matty's headlights.
Barbara Gordon stood up, hot tears
running down her face. "Where's my daddy?"
Matty's heart broke into a million
pieces as she realized that once again, she had been unable to do anything. She
imagined that this would have been little Bruce had she been the one to die
with Thomas instead of him, and she found herself crying too. Saddened as she
was over the loss of her friend, it amounted to nothing compared to her grief
over not being able to comfort this girl properly. She could not tell her
everything would be all right, that it was a dream and everyone was safe.
The girl ran into Matty's outstretched
arms as Alfred removed his coat to cover them.
*****
"You don't seem to understand, Mr.
Scott," the judge said between puffs on his cigar. They were seated in the
exclusive Gotham Gentleman's Club. "My hands are tied. Your friend," he smiled
at the term, "Mrs. Wayne will have to wait to see if she is even eligible to
adopt the girl."
Alan blew out a deep breath; he
had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He knew the judge was as crooked as they
came, and that his stalling on the whole matter was just a way of holding out
for a bribe. Alan expected Matty to have paid one; Lord knew she could afford
it. Her stocks had jumped again and she was not thinking of investing in
International Business Machines of all companies! Alan wished she would put
money into his failing business, but then, as she had explained, it could cause
a rift between the two of them.
Alan reached into his jacket and
withdrew a large envelope and tossed it onto the table that separated the two
men. The judge smiled and picked it up. "I'm certain, though, I could use my
influence to speed things along." Opening the envelope, the judge laid his
cigar down in the ashtray. A good thing, Alan thought, because it would have fallen
from his mouth when he saw what was in the envelope.
"You know, your honor, I bet your
wife would get really upset to find out you were parading around with another
woman. In fact, I'd say she'd divorce you and run your name through the
mud…take your children away…" Alan let the statement sink in as the judge
cautiously looked at the photographs in the envelope, not bothering to pull
them out. "But, if she were to find out you were sleeping with young Asian
men…well, I'd have to say she's kill you."
It had only taken private
investigator Ralph Dinby a week to get enough dirt on the judge to be useful,
well worth the money. Certainly, Alan could have used it to bribe the judge,
but it would not nearly be as satisfying as seeing him squirm right now. It
gave him a feeling of power; a feeling he had not had since he had destroyed
the magic ring.
"The papers will be ready in the
morning, Mr. Scott…sir," the judge added nervously as he tucked the photos into
his coat pocket. "I suppose you will be keeping the negatives for further use?"
"They're in the envelope; I don't
need them. I know your secrets, remember that. Knowledge is much more powerful
than photographs, your honor." With that, Alan stood up and left.
*****
TOP SECRET
THIS DOCUMENT IS CLASSIFIED UNDER ARTICLE 156.1 OF
THE NATIONAL SECURITY ADVISORY COMMITTEE RULES OF DISCLOSURE, DATED 4 APRIL
1947. DISSEMINATION TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSON(S) OR ENTITIES CAN RESULT IN
IMPRISONMENT OR FINES.
PROJECT: OPERATION FREEFALL
DESCRIPTION OF PROJECT:
IN THE EARLY 1900'S, SEVERAL SMALL METEORITES WERE
RECORDED AS HAVING FALLEN IN REMOTE AREAS OF SIBERIA. THESE METEORITES, UPON
DETONATING IN THE ATMOSPHERE, LEVELED HUNDREDS OF SQUARE MILES OF FOREST AND
TIMBER. THE METEORITES WERE ESTIMATED TO HAVE MOVED FASTER-THAN-LIGHT FROM AN
UNKNOWN GALAXY, BASED ON ASTRONOMICAL OBSERVATIONS CONDUCTED BY VARIOUS
ORGANIZATIONS AT THE TIME. IT IS BELIEVED, NOW, THAT THESE ARE ACTUALLY PIECES
OF A PLANET THAT DETONATED SEVERAL DECADES AGO IN ANOTHER GALAXY.
NAZI SCIENTISTS CAPTURED DURING THE FALL OF BERLIN
BY ALLIED FORCES DESCRIBED RECORDS THAT HAD BEEN SHIPPED FROM SECRET SOVIET
LABS THAT HAD BEEN OVERRUN BY THE GERMAN FORCES DURING THE WAR. THE RECORDS,
DESTROYED BEFORE THE ALLIED OCCUPATION, DETAILED THE DISCOVERY OF TWO HUMAN
EMBRYOS ENCASED IN WHAT WAS ONLY DESCRIBED AS A ROCKET SHIP. EVENTUALLY, SOVIET
SCIENTISTS WERE ABLE TO IMPLANT THE EMBRYOS INTO HUMAN HOSTS AND TWO CHILDREN
WERE BORN.
THE CHILDREN, ONE MALE (WHO WAS BORN SOME TEN YEARS
BEFORE THE OTHER) AND ONE FEMALE, BEGAN TO EXIBIT ABILITIES FAR BEYOND THOSE OF
NORMAL MEN AND WOMEN. ENHANCED STRENGTH, SPEED AND ENDURANCE, AS WELL AS THE
ABILITY TO FLY WERE ALL RECORDED IN LABORATORY NOTES KEPT BY KREMLIN DOCTORS.
THIS PROJECT WAS INITIATED TO ESTABLISH WHETHER OR
NOT THESE REPORTS WERE TRUE.
PROJECT ASSIGNMENT:
THE PROJECT WAS TURNED OVER TO THE DEPARTMENT OF
SUPER-HUMAN AFFAIRS, ESTABLISHED UNDER CONGRESSIONAL BILL HR122. THIS
DEPARTMENT ALSO OVERSEES THE REGISTRATION OF ALL SO-CALLED SUPER-HEROES OPERATING
IN THE UNITED STATES. ONE LONE AGENT, HANK HEYWOOD, ALSO KNOWN AS COMMANDER
STEEL, WAS ASSIGNED TO SECRETLY ENTER SOVIET RUSSIA AND FIND EVIDENCE TO REFUTE
OR SUPPORT THE CLAIMS.
PROJECT FINDINGS:
HEYWOOD REPORTED THAT THE SOVIET GOVERNMENT CURRENTLY
HAS FOUR SUPER-HUMANS EMPLOYED AS AGENTS OF THE GOVERNMENT. THE FIRST IS CALLED
RED STAR AND IS THE MALE CHILD. THE SECOND IS CALLED CRIMSON FURY, AND IS THE
FEMALE CHILD.
A SCIENTIST THAT HEYWOOD WAS ABLE TO SMUGGLE BACK
TO THE UNITED STATES GAVE AN EVEN MORE DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF THESE FOUR
INDIVIDUALS. SOVIET SCIENTISTS WERE ABLE TO CLONE, THAT IS TO GROW ANOTHER
EXACT LIVING CREATURE FROM A SINGLE CELL OF A PARENT BEING, CRIMSON FURY. THIS
CLONE WAS THAN ALTERED ON GENETIC LEVEL. THE ALTERATIONS WERE MEANT TO INCREASE
THE CLONE'S ABILITIES, BUT INSTEAD ONLY ENHANCED PHYSICAL MAKE-UP, RESULTING IN
A MORE "MATURE" BODY. THIS CLONE, CALLED IN ENGLISH POWER GIRL, OPERATES AS A
COVERT AGENT IN EAST GERMANY.
THE FOURTH BEING WAS THE RESULT OF PHYSICAL MATING
BETWEEN RED STAR AND RED OCTOBER. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CREATURE PRODUCED WAS FAR
FROM HUMAN. UNABLE TO EXPLAIN THE OBVIOUS GENETIC DRIFT AT FIRST, SCIENTIST
LATER DETERMINED THAT BOTH RED STAR AND CRIMSON FURY ARE CLOSELY RELATED,
POSSIBLY FIRST COUSINS, WHICH RESULTED IN THE GENETIC MUTATION OF THEIR CHILD.
THIS CHILD, NICKNAMED "BIZARRO" BY THE KREMLIN, HAS BEEN DUMPED INTO THE
WASTELANDS OF SIBERIA TO LIVE OUT ITS LIFE, SINCE THE GOVERNMENT IS UNAWARE OF
HOW TO DEAL WITH HIM.
THREAT LEVELS:
IT IS THE OPINION OF THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT
THAT THE PRESENCE OF SUPER-HUMANS IN THE SOVIET UNION PRESENTS A DIRECT THREAT
TO OUR NATIONAL SECURITY. THE CONTINUED EXPERIMENTATION UPON THESE ALIEN BEINGS
ONLY PROVES THAT THE SOVIET GOVERNMENT IS PLANNING TO DEVELOP AN ARMY OF THESE
CREATURES TO USE AGAINST NATO.
ANALYSTS FEEL THAT THE ONLY REASON WE HAVE NOT SEEN
THESE BEINGS CROSS THE IRON CURTAIN IS THE UNCERTAINTY THAT THE JUSTICE SOCIETY
HAS ACTUALLY DISBANDED. GIVEN THAT THE GROUP HAS ACTUALLY GONE INTO RETIREMENT,
IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE THE SOVIETS REALIZE THIS AND EXPLOIT IT.
RECOMMENDATIONS:
SEEING THAT THE JUSTICE SOCIETY WILL NOT REFORM
UNDER THE CURRENT REGULATIONS SET-FORTH BY CONGRESS, IT IS OUR RECOMMENDATION
THAT IMMEDIATE ACTION BE TAKEN TO REPEAL THESE BILLS IN THE HOPES THAT AMERICAN
SUPER-HEROES WILL COME OUT OF RETIREMENT AND STEP UP TO THE TASK OF DEFENDING
THIS NATION FROM COMMUNISM. THE CURRENT GOVERNMENT SPONSORED TEAM, INFINITY
INC., IS NOT UP TO THE TASK OF HANDLING THE THREAT POSED BY THE SOVIET
"SUPERMEN". WHILE HAVING EXPERIENCED MEMBERS SUCH AT THE FLASH AND LIBERTY
BELLE ARE AN ASSETT, THE LACK OF ANY REAL POWERHOUSES SUCH AS WONDER WOMAN,
GREEN LANTERN, DR, FATE OR STARMAN LEAVE THE TEAM WITH SEVERAL VULNERABILITIES.
AT ITS CURRENT STATUS, THE UNITED STATES COUNTER-THREAT TO THESE SOVIET WEAPONS
IS MARGINALLY ABOVE NIL.