JSA: Atrocity
By Bruce Wayne
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit
by the author.
An Elseworld's story: Stories, situation or events involving familiar characters in unfamiliar settings.
Chapter 16
The Korean Veteran Social Club was a relatively new organization that was located on East Forty-seventh Street in Gateway City. The club had recently popped up in the previous few months and had advertised heavily for members. It offered members a bar, a small grill for meals, and recreational actvities such as a gym and martial arts training.
Sandman had concluded in his mind that the assault on the VX nerve gas convoy had been conducted with a high degree of military precision. The helicopter pilots had to be rated to fly very specialized aircraft. Where would a criminal mastermind be able to recruit such minions?
During an investigation of organizations that catered to war veterans, Sandman zeroed in on the Korean Veteran Social club. The headquarters were on the second floor of a three-story building. On the third-floor was the gym and the first floor was a karate school, both run by the social club.
With the help of the Spectre's considerable powers, the Sandmobile had been transported to Gateway City. Sitting beside Sandman, in the passenger's seat, was Wildcat.
It was dark and the Sandmobile was parked across the street from the social club. Wildcat looked across the street, then at Sandman.
"You sure we want to mess with these guys?" Wildcat asked. "After all, they're veterans' -- they served their country."
"You have a better idea of where False-Face might recruit highly-trained personnel to carry out a precision, military-style raid? Just relax --"
"Relax my --"
Sandman interrupted him, "We'll just go inside and take a look around."
"What do you plan to do, inside? I mean, take karate lessons or try out the gym?"
"Neither." Sandman said with amusement in his voice that could be heard through the gas mask that he wore. "We're just going to talk to the person in charge."
Wildcat doubled forward, laughing. "We waltz in dressed like this and you think they'll just talk to us?"
"I don't think talk like that is at all constructive, Wildcat."
Wildcat looked at his partner for the evening. "Sandman, there's probably a large number of relatively young, former service personnel in that building right now. Probably a lot of them are getting tanked in the bar. And here come two guys -- one in a business suit wearing a gas mask and another in a cat costume -- what do you think the response will be? 'Come on, buddy, I'll by ya a drink?'"
"Sounds like a fair guess," Sandman agreed. "They'll probably help us."
"Help us?" Wildcat grinned. "Help us?" If Sandman could see through Wildcat's cowled mask, he would had seen eyebrows raised halfway up Ted Grant's forehead. "Hey, no offense, huh? But they are not going to help two guys dressed as us with nothing, Sandman."
Sandman looked at Wildcat.
"Okay, Sandman. I just don't want to end up dead, you dig?"
"Don't worry," Sandman said. He opened the car door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Wildcat got out and slammed the door.
Sandman started across the street.
The smell of sweat, garbage, gasoline and liquor assailed the nostrils of Wildcat. There was fear, too. Little kids hawked newspapers or listened to the new-type of transistor radios. Some older kids -- middle to late teens -- hung out along the curb or at the corners.
On the sidewalks there were women, too. Just pretty girls who happened to live in a rough part of town. It was obvious, though, what some of them did for a living.
Sandman stared at a door three buildings down from the Korean Veteran Social Club. It was open, with music coming from it. An almost painfully thin black girl, a glazed look in her eyes, stood snapping her fingers to the beat of the music. She seemed totally unaware of the bustle on the street around her. Her skirt -- too short for normal length, too long for a miniskirt -- was tight around her thighs.
"Wonderful part of town you brought me to, Sandman," Wildcat observed.
"There's nothing wrong with this part of town," Sandman told him, dodging a gray Cadillac. "Most of the people who live here are decent. Probably better churchgoers than you or I could ever be. Just a few rough guys and women."
"I think they all turned out to meet us."
There were three youths standing beside the plate-glass window. The red lettering across the window proclaimed, Korean Veteran Karate Institute, with phone numbers and hours.
Sandman started for the door. He slowed as three men stepped between him and the door. "You dudes lookin' for somethin'?" one of the tough-looking guys asked.
Trying to sound pleasant but authoratative through his mask, Sandman said, "You get out of my way or the karate studio is going to be needing a new window."
"How come?" the tough-guy asked.
"Cause he's going to throw you through it." Sandman jerked his thumb at Wildcat.
"He gonna?" asked another of the three who was wearing a yellow shirt.
"Yep, he's tough. He fights a lot. Me, I just shoot people." Sandman let his suit coat swing open to show one of his gas guns in a shoulder holster.
"Hey, brother, I'm cool," Yellow shirt said, laughing.
The other two stepped away while Yellow shirt did the same.
"Pigs," one of the three snapped as he moved out of the way.
Sandman looked at him but said nothing. He passed him by, shouldering the glass door into the karate school, feeling Wildcat right behind him.
The floor was covered with green indoor-outdoor carpet. In one corner was a new-looking metal desk behind which a pretty girl sat. A wood-paneled partition ran the width of the room behind her chair.
She cleared her throat. "Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked.
Sandman walked over to the desk. He glanced past the desk to the curtained doorway that led to the larger portion of the first floor.
"Yes, I'd like to see the man in charge. We used to pal around together when we were younger," Sandman said pleasantly. "I've got some important business."
"I'm sorry, but Mr Faux can't --"
"Can't be disturbed," Sandman finished for her.
"That's right," she said apologetically.
"Tell him it's The Sandman."
"If you'd like to leave your name and where you can be reached, I'm sure he'll try to get back to you."
"I'm from out of town. Just tell him I'm here."
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
"Do it, please." Sandman said nicely.
She pushed a red button next to the telephone on the top of the desk, then stood up, stepping back toward the wall. A buzzer sounded from somewhere inside the karate school behind the wall.
"Now why did you do that?" Sandman asked her, shaking his head.
Three big men wearing white gis and brown belts parted the curtain and stepped through the doorway. They waited, and a moment later a fourth man in black with a black belt also came out. Two of the white-clad men were black. The other one and the man in black were Oriental.
"Hi, guys," Sandman greeted them. "You're in trouble." He jerked his thumb back toward Wildcat. "He's going to kick the crap out of you."
Sandman looked up. The Oriental in white started past him toward Wildcat. Sandman wheeled half right, his left foot snapping out a fast double Tae Kwon Doe kick to the abdomen and chest. The man staggered back, reeling. He regained his balance and assumed a guard position.
The second Oriental, in the black outfit, was already moving. Sandman finished the wheeling stance and feigned a kick with his right, landing on the same foot. He backhanded the edge of his left hand into the black-clad Oriental's throat. Before the man had time to fall, Sandman snapped out three straight-arm punches in rapid succession into the man's face -- left, right, left. The guy slammed into the wall, then slid to the floor, unconscious.
Sandman looked up as the two black men came at him. He lifted one of them up bodily, sidestepping to let the other rush past. Sandman threw the first one forward. The man's spine crunched against the edge of the metal desk as the girl screamed. Sandman spun around in time to see Wildcat's left arm rocketing up almost from his toes toward the other black's jaw. The blow sent the man's body jackknifing across the desk as the girl screamed again.
Sandman balanced on his right foot, his hands in a guard position. He stepped forward on his right foot then, feet apart, his right hand snaking out into the first Oriental's face. As the man fell backward, Sandman rushed forward and leaped into the air, a double drop kick slamming the man against the wall. The man crumpled into an unmoving heap.
Then Sandman shouted, "Behind you, Wildcat!" The three men who had accosted them on the street had just entered the room.
Wildcat did not wait for their attack. He picked up one of the men and threw him across the room. Sandman dodged left as the body flew past him. Then Wildcat was locked in combat with the other two, one of them being Yellow Shirt. Wildcat switched to a left-handed fighting stance, snapping out his right. Yellow Shirt dodged left, straight into the former heavyweight champion of the world's swinging left hand. The blow caught him in the middle of the forehead, knocking him sprawling.
The other man was coming at Wildcat, the straight razor he was holding glinting dully in the fluorescent light. The young black dipped left. Wildcat moved left and jumped back as the man swiped at him. The blade missed, and Wildcat grabbed the man's wrist, jerking his arm behind his back. The man screamed in pain as his arm snapped at the shoulder, and the razor clattered to the floor.
The man fell back, whimpering as he dashed for the door.
Wildcat turned to Sandman. "That it?"
Sandman shrugged, stepping forward, his hands still in a guard position -- tucked against his sides, fists curled and out.
"Maybe. Let's go through the opening beyond the partition there. Come on." Sandman started forward.
They reached the partition simultaneously, and Sandman stepped back, saying to Wildcat, "You first, son."
Wildcat looked at him, mimicking, "'You first, son.' Thanks a hell of a lot." Wildcat stepped through and Sandman followed. Suddenly Wildcat exclaimed, "Oh, no, not again!" Four men in gis with white belts were running at them.
"Hey, Wildcat, you want all of them? They're just white belts."
"Shut up and give me a hand, Sandman," Wildcat snarled, letting the nearest of the four men come at him with a flying kick. Wildcat just sidestepped it, diving left as the man flew past. Before the man could regain his balance, Wildcat kicked out and sent the man sprawling on the floor.
Sandman stepped to the right as two of the three remaining attackers approached him. Wildcat grabbed the third man by the throat and crotch, lifting him bodily, then throwing him flat against the wall. The wall trembled and fell as the secretary ran through the door screaming.
Sandman's two opponents were closing on him. He wheeled, pivoting on his left foot. His right caught the first guy in the abdomen, hammering him back. Sandman wheeled again as the second man punched out a straight-arm right. Sandman's left foot snapped up and out twice to the right rib cage. The man fell back like a worn-out toy.
Sandman caught Wildcat's eyes. They both looked left.
A man with a worried look on his face stood at the far end of the practice floor. He had the appearance of someone who might be in charge.
Wildcat called out to him, "Oh, hi! Can we have a moment of your time?"
TO BE CONTINUED ....
***
Come visit me and/or Chris Dee and the other fine writers at Gotham After Dark Message Board at: http://pub101.ezboard.com/bgothampm
By Bruce Wayne
DISCLAIMER: Most of the characters portrayed in this story are copyright by DC Comics, an AOL/Time/Warner company. They are used without permission for entertainment without profit
by the author.
An Elseworld's story: Stories, situation or events involving familiar characters in unfamiliar settings.
Chapter 16
The Korean Veteran Social Club was a relatively new organization that was located on East Forty-seventh Street in Gateway City. The club had recently popped up in the previous few months and had advertised heavily for members. It offered members a bar, a small grill for meals, and recreational actvities such as a gym and martial arts training.
Sandman had concluded in his mind that the assault on the VX nerve gas convoy had been conducted with a high degree of military precision. The helicopter pilots had to be rated to fly very specialized aircraft. Where would a criminal mastermind be able to recruit such minions?
During an investigation of organizations that catered to war veterans, Sandman zeroed in on the Korean Veteran Social club. The headquarters were on the second floor of a three-story building. On the third-floor was the gym and the first floor was a karate school, both run by the social club.
With the help of the Spectre's considerable powers, the Sandmobile had been transported to Gateway City. Sitting beside Sandman, in the passenger's seat, was Wildcat.
It was dark and the Sandmobile was parked across the street from the social club. Wildcat looked across the street, then at Sandman.
"You sure we want to mess with these guys?" Wildcat asked. "After all, they're veterans' -- they served their country."
"You have a better idea of where False-Face might recruit highly-trained personnel to carry out a precision, military-style raid? Just relax --"
"Relax my --"
Sandman interrupted him, "We'll just go inside and take a look around."
"What do you plan to do, inside? I mean, take karate lessons or try out the gym?"
"Neither." Sandman said with amusement in his voice that could be heard through the gas mask that he wore. "We're just going to talk to the person in charge."
Wildcat doubled forward, laughing. "We waltz in dressed like this and you think they'll just talk to us?"
"I don't think talk like that is at all constructive, Wildcat."
Wildcat looked at his partner for the evening. "Sandman, there's probably a large number of relatively young, former service personnel in that building right now. Probably a lot of them are getting tanked in the bar. And here come two guys -- one in a business suit wearing a gas mask and another in a cat costume -- what do you think the response will be? 'Come on, buddy, I'll by ya a drink?'"
"Sounds like a fair guess," Sandman agreed. "They'll probably help us."
"Help us?" Wildcat grinned. "Help us?" If Sandman could see through Wildcat's cowled mask, he would had seen eyebrows raised halfway up Ted Grant's forehead. "Hey, no offense, huh? But they are not going to help two guys dressed as us with nothing, Sandman."
Sandman looked at Wildcat.
"Okay, Sandman. I just don't want to end up dead, you dig?"
"Don't worry," Sandman said. He opened the car door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Wildcat got out and slammed the door.
Sandman started across the street.
The smell of sweat, garbage, gasoline and liquor assailed the nostrils of Wildcat. There was fear, too. Little kids hawked newspapers or listened to the new-type of transistor radios. Some older kids -- middle to late teens -- hung out along the curb or at the corners.
On the sidewalks there were women, too. Just pretty girls who happened to live in a rough part of town. It was obvious, though, what some of them did for a living.
Sandman stared at a door three buildings down from the Korean Veteran Social Club. It was open, with music coming from it. An almost painfully thin black girl, a glazed look in her eyes, stood snapping her fingers to the beat of the music. She seemed totally unaware of the bustle on the street around her. Her skirt -- too short for normal length, too long for a miniskirt -- was tight around her thighs.
"Wonderful part of town you brought me to, Sandman," Wildcat observed.
"There's nothing wrong with this part of town," Sandman told him, dodging a gray Cadillac. "Most of the people who live here are decent. Probably better churchgoers than you or I could ever be. Just a few rough guys and women."
"I think they all turned out to meet us."
There were three youths standing beside the plate-glass window. The red lettering across the window proclaimed, Korean Veteran Karate Institute, with phone numbers and hours.
Sandman started for the door. He slowed as three men stepped between him and the door. "You dudes lookin' for somethin'?" one of the tough-looking guys asked.
Trying to sound pleasant but authoratative through his mask, Sandman said, "You get out of my way or the karate studio is going to be needing a new window."
"How come?" the tough-guy asked.
"Cause he's going to throw you through it." Sandman jerked his thumb at Wildcat.
"He gonna?" asked another of the three who was wearing a yellow shirt.
"Yep, he's tough. He fights a lot. Me, I just shoot people." Sandman let his suit coat swing open to show one of his gas guns in a shoulder holster.
"Hey, brother, I'm cool," Yellow shirt said, laughing.
The other two stepped away while Yellow shirt did the same.
"Pigs," one of the three snapped as he moved out of the way.
Sandman looked at him but said nothing. He passed him by, shouldering the glass door into the karate school, feeling Wildcat right behind him.
The floor was covered with green indoor-outdoor carpet. In one corner was a new-looking metal desk behind which a pretty girl sat. A wood-paneled partition ran the width of the room behind her chair.
She cleared her throat. "Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked.
Sandman walked over to the desk. He glanced past the desk to the curtained doorway that led to the larger portion of the first floor.
"Yes, I'd like to see the man in charge. We used to pal around together when we were younger," Sandman said pleasantly. "I've got some important business."
"I'm sorry, but Mr Faux can't --"
"Can't be disturbed," Sandman finished for her.
"That's right," she said apologetically.
"Tell him it's The Sandman."
"If you'd like to leave your name and where you can be reached, I'm sure he'll try to get back to you."
"I'm from out of town. Just tell him I'm here."
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
"Do it, please." Sandman said nicely.
She pushed a red button next to the telephone on the top of the desk, then stood up, stepping back toward the wall. A buzzer sounded from somewhere inside the karate school behind the wall.
"Now why did you do that?" Sandman asked her, shaking his head.
Three big men wearing white gis and brown belts parted the curtain and stepped through the doorway. They waited, and a moment later a fourth man in black with a black belt also came out. Two of the white-clad men were black. The other one and the man in black were Oriental.
"Hi, guys," Sandman greeted them. "You're in trouble." He jerked his thumb back toward Wildcat. "He's going to kick the crap out of you."
Sandman looked up. The Oriental in white started past him toward Wildcat. Sandman wheeled half right, his left foot snapping out a fast double Tae Kwon Doe kick to the abdomen and chest. The man staggered back, reeling. He regained his balance and assumed a guard position.
The second Oriental, in the black outfit, was already moving. Sandman finished the wheeling stance and feigned a kick with his right, landing on the same foot. He backhanded the edge of his left hand into the black-clad Oriental's throat. Before the man had time to fall, Sandman snapped out three straight-arm punches in rapid succession into the man's face -- left, right, left. The guy slammed into the wall, then slid to the floor, unconscious.
Sandman looked up as the two black men came at him. He lifted one of them up bodily, sidestepping to let the other rush past. Sandman threw the first one forward. The man's spine crunched against the edge of the metal desk as the girl screamed. Sandman spun around in time to see Wildcat's left arm rocketing up almost from his toes toward the other black's jaw. The blow sent the man's body jackknifing across the desk as the girl screamed again.
Sandman balanced on his right foot, his hands in a guard position. He stepped forward on his right foot then, feet apart, his right hand snaking out into the first Oriental's face. As the man fell backward, Sandman rushed forward and leaped into the air, a double drop kick slamming the man against the wall. The man crumpled into an unmoving heap.
Then Sandman shouted, "Behind you, Wildcat!" The three men who had accosted them on the street had just entered the room.
Wildcat did not wait for their attack. He picked up one of the men and threw him across the room. Sandman dodged left as the body flew past him. Then Wildcat was locked in combat with the other two, one of them being Yellow Shirt. Wildcat switched to a left-handed fighting stance, snapping out his right. Yellow Shirt dodged left, straight into the former heavyweight champion of the world's swinging left hand. The blow caught him in the middle of the forehead, knocking him sprawling.
The other man was coming at Wildcat, the straight razor he was holding glinting dully in the fluorescent light. The young black dipped left. Wildcat moved left and jumped back as the man swiped at him. The blade missed, and Wildcat grabbed the man's wrist, jerking his arm behind his back. The man screamed in pain as his arm snapped at the shoulder, and the razor clattered to the floor.
The man fell back, whimpering as he dashed for the door.
Wildcat turned to Sandman. "That it?"
Sandman shrugged, stepping forward, his hands still in a guard position -- tucked against his sides, fists curled and out.
"Maybe. Let's go through the opening beyond the partition there. Come on." Sandman started forward.
They reached the partition simultaneously, and Sandman stepped back, saying to Wildcat, "You first, son."
Wildcat looked at him, mimicking, "'You first, son.' Thanks a hell of a lot." Wildcat stepped through and Sandman followed. Suddenly Wildcat exclaimed, "Oh, no, not again!" Four men in gis with white belts were running at them.
"Hey, Wildcat, you want all of them? They're just white belts."
"Shut up and give me a hand, Sandman," Wildcat snarled, letting the nearest of the four men come at him with a flying kick. Wildcat just sidestepped it, diving left as the man flew past. Before the man could regain his balance, Wildcat kicked out and sent the man sprawling on the floor.
Sandman stepped to the right as two of the three remaining attackers approached him. Wildcat grabbed the third man by the throat and crotch, lifting him bodily, then throwing him flat against the wall. The wall trembled and fell as the secretary ran through the door screaming.
Sandman's two opponents were closing on him. He wheeled, pivoting on his left foot. His right caught the first guy in the abdomen, hammering him back. Sandman wheeled again as the second man punched out a straight-arm right. Sandman's left foot snapped up and out twice to the right rib cage. The man fell back like a worn-out toy.
Sandman caught Wildcat's eyes. They both looked left.
A man with a worried look on his face stood at the far end of the practice floor. He had the appearance of someone who might be in charge.
Wildcat called out to him, "Oh, hi! Can we have a moment of your time?"
TO BE CONTINUED ....
***
Come visit me and/or Chris Dee and the other fine writers at Gotham After Dark Message Board at: http://pub101.ezboard.com/bgothampm