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 17
Upon the arrival of the Justice Society of America in Gateway City, Batman had directed The Atom to find Mr Terrific and "order him to report to us immediately." As The Atom was starting out the door of their temporary headquarters, Batman called out to him. "Atom, don't order Mr Terrific ... better ask him." The Caped Crusader's lip twitched slightly. "Mr Terrific is a very obstinate man.
There never was another man like the crimefighter known as Mr Terrific, whose real name was Terry Sloane. A child prodigy, Sloane as a young boy demonstrated superb skills in athletics, martial arts and engineering skills. He entered college at the age of 12 and graduated in less than a year. After obtaining the maximum formal education available to him, he devoted himself to athletics, again showing superb performance. He later turned his attention to business, where he rapidly became successful and wealthy.
The accomplishments Sloane had achieved by a rather early age, may had been considerable, but they left Terry feeling unchallenged and depressed. He felt pressured by living a so-called "perfect" existence.
An advocate of "Fair Play," at various times he had been a professional boxer, a ballet dancer, a doctor, a dentist, a lawyer, and an honorary Indian chief. He spoke several languages fluently. He held a black belt in Judo. He was an accomplished wrestler, fencer, and swimmer. He was a published writer. Numerous international galleries prized his oil paintings. He played the piano, violin, trumpet, and drums, and once had given an organ recital in Notre Dame Cathedral.
Mr Terrific had a theme song. It implied that he could do anything better than anyone else.
He could do anything better than anyone else!
The Atom found Mr Terrific in a back alley. The crimefighter was facing off against two attackers armed with knives. Mr Terrific managed to grab a nearby wooden pole and with a twist of his wrist both men were disarmed very quickly.
The Atom had jumped down from his vantage post and assisted in defeating the two criminals rather easily.
As the two attackers lay unconscious at their feet, The Atom turned to Mr Terrific and said, "Hey, buddy, Batman --"
"Ah!" Mr Terrific held up his hand in a sign that The Atom should stop where he was. He smiled, shook his head and proceeded to walk away from The Atom. The discussion was over.
Upon returning back to the temporary JSA headquarters, The Atom related to Dr Mid-Nite what had happened and how Mr Terrific had responded negatively.
"What do you mean he said NO?!" Dr Mid-Nite exclaimed.
"You shoulda saw him, Doc!" The Atom said admiringly. "Bango, wiffo! Both of them were disarmed so fast I couldn't believe it!"
"Cut that out!" Dr Mid-Nite roared. "Batman might hear you. Come on, Atom, I'll go with you and we'll both ask Terrific to help us."
A few hours later, Dr Mid-Nite was explaining to Batman. "It would have taken Green Lantern to drag him here. He was incredible! NO! He was ... really terrific! There he was after stopping an armed robbery with three large men pinning his arms and legs ... then socko!" Dr Mid-Nite flailed out with arms and legs. "They went flying like tenpins."
"Big deal!" Batman roared. "Am I supposed to be impressed? Mr Terrific! He ought to be stuffed in a time capsule and shot into outer space!"
After a moment of consideration, Batman said, "I'll contact Terrific myself."
***
It had turned cold during the very early morning hours. At a secluded location in Gateway City, Batman was meeting up with the other protector of the city who was know as Mr Terrific.
The Caped Crusader was looking at Mr Terrific's handsome features which had been compared in the local press to Rudolph Valentino, Clark Gable, Cary Grant, Rock Hudson, among other idols of stage and screen.
After spotting Batman in the dark alleyway, Mr Terrific had waltzed over in a leisurely manner in which he did everything. Amusement curled the corners of his mouth as he approached the crimefighter from Gotham City.
"Well, hello ... Batman." There was an impudent accent on the last word.
"Terrific," the Caped Crusader began, "I'm here because --"
"You want something."
"Don't be clever," Batman snapped. "I came here because --" He gave thought to where he was at the moment and the importance of what he wanted to relate to Mr Terrific. "Maybe the JSA command post would be a better place to talk."
"I doubt it, Batman."
"Once you realize the importance of this project, I know you'll be interested in --"
"Batman, I have the highest regard for you and the rest of the JSA."
"Thank you." The Masked Manhunter's hopes rose -- only to be promptly dashed again.
"But I'm really quite busy, Batman. There's the ballet, you know."
"You rather watch a ballet than help us?"
"No," Mr Terrific said airly. "To teach one."
Batman tried to digest Mr Terrific's attitude. He took a deep breath and attempted to approach the Gateway City hero in another way. "Terrific, in the past you and I have had some differences --" He noted the funny look Mr Terrific was giving him. "But let's forget the past ... Terrific, it's every citizen's duty to serve his --"
Mr Terrific cut him off sharply. "Please, Batman. Don't wave the flag here in the alley. Just come to the point."
The point was lost to the Caped Crusader as Mr Terrific changed the subject. "How is Hawkman?" Mr Terrific asked Batman, grinning.
Batman nodded. "He's his usual conservative self, Terrific.
Mr Terrific laughed. "Yes, he is a bit on the conservative side, isn't he?"
"Agreed," said the Caped Crusader in an unamused tone. "But we're going to need him on this case, as well as yourself -- that's why I'm here."
Mr Terrific rolled his eyes at Batman and grinned. "You think so, old friend?"
They were standing behind a huge warehouse and the area was dark -- just the way Batman liked it. The two heroes were leaning against Mr Terrific's Cadillac.
Batman skipped the question. "We need your help, Terrific."
"It's nice to be needed, Batman."
"Now look here, this is no joking matter. In fact it's the most important assignment in the world today. Maybe in the entire history of the world."
"Wonderful, I hope you find a hero worthy enough to help you."
The caped crimefighter swallowed hard and got hold of his temper. "Terrific, this involves explosives coupled with VX nerve gas. You're the best man for the job. The only man."
"That must have pleased you, Caped Crusader, to come to that realization," Mr Terrific said with an edge of sarcasm.
"Terrific, I'm not a man who carries a grudge. We've had our disagreements, as I've said. But that's water over the dam. Spilled milk. Forgive and forget is my motto."
"It would be," Mr Terrific said mockingly. "Batman, it just wouldn't work between us. I'm the fuse to your powder keg."
"Terrific!" the Caped Crusader roared. "The world is in trouble!"
"It usually is, Batman. And it manages to extricate itself without me."
"You're the only one, Terrific. You're a world-renown explosives expert. Even Wildcat and Wonder Woman agree."
"Batman, you once told me that you preferred to have your problems than my solutions to them."
Gotham City's Masked Manhunter threw up his arms in exasperation. "You're just as impossible as you always were. Arrogant! Conceited! Selfish! What can I say that will change your mind?"
"You could say please."
Batman was stunned. But in the interest of getting Mr Terrific on board with the rest of the team, Batman relented with an uncharacteristic, "Please."
"No sweat, Batman."
The Masked Vigilante of Gotham City nodded again.
"So tell me, Caped Crusader, what's going on?"
Batman cleared his throat and began to speak. "There's a very dangerous villian running around with some stolen VX nerve gas." The Most Dangerous Man on Earth scanned Mr Terrific's face which went from puzzled to almost unimpressed.
"The villian's name is False-Face," continued Batman. "He's very dangerous. He can look like anybody -- your brother, your father, your preacher. He can disguise himself to look like any one of us."
Mr Terrific laughed, and the Caped Crusader raised his right hand after a moment.
Batman added, "We think we know his first target -- Gateway City. He might use the nerve gas at anytime. He's got the services of one of the top bombmakers in the world, who is also an expert in chemical weapons -- man called The Boomer. They're both Nazis. Maybe False-Face wants to rule the world. Anyway, False-Face has enough VX to kill just about everyone in the U.S., and we figure he's getting ready to demonstrate what he can do with the gas here in Gateway City maybe real soon. The authorities don't know what we know yet and won't for another twelve hours. That means we can work through until midday tomorow without police all over the place."
"What about evacuating?" Mr Terrific asked.
"We thought of that," Batman answered. "But to evacuate Gateway City if there wasn't such a threat would be needlessly causing death and destruction. If there is VX nerve gas to be released, it'd be typical of False-Face's mentality, his barbarism, to use the gas where the greatest number of evacuees would be hurt. To clear the city would be impossible without days of work. The cost of human life is too great to gamble."
"That's good sense, Caped Crusader."
Batman's voice had a tinge of anger as he said, "We've got to find False-Face or the team he's using. But by just finding one canister of nerve gas won't stop him. There are other cities, other times. Still at any cost, we've got to find the VX he is planting here. The JSA is trying to figure a way of doing it, but we don't have it yet."
Mr Terrific looked at the crimefighter from Gotham in the eye and said enthusiastically, "Thanks for the briefing, Batman. Let's get rolling!"
***
"Let me help you, sister," the bus driver said, reaching up his right hand.
False-Face smiled warmly, letting the bus driver take his elbow as he gathered up the long black skirt. "Thank you, young man, and God bless you, too." His voice was that of an old lady. False-Face stopped at the base of the bus steps, looking from side to side at the traffic and the crush of humanity in the downtown area of Gateway City.
Then, gathering his skirts again, he started walking toward the hotel front. He stopped there, waiting, his wrinkled hands folded together at the bodice of the thick habit. A gust of wind whipped the white veil.
The bus driver stopped unloading luggage and called over to him. "Sister, is someone meeting you?"
"Yes, thank you," False-Face replied, assuming the old-lady voice. "Some of the parishioners are coming, young man."
The bus driver smiled and returned to his work. False-Face watched as he moved Sister Mary Genevieve's luggage.
The three suitcases contained three containers of VX nerve gas.
False-Face stood at the curb. The diesel fumes from the idling bus were making him dizzy. A minute later, a car pulled up next to him.
A man was driving the car with another man next to him. False-Face settled himself in the back next to a blond-haired, chubby woman. False-Face sat behind the front-seat passenger. He kept using the feminine voice until the car was away from the curb.
Then the woman beside him said, "It's amazing, Mr False-Face ... that you can do what you do. I mean --"
"The disguises?" False-Face slipped back into his own voice but tried to keep his bodily attitude that of his character's. There was great deal of traffic, and he had no desire to attract even the slightest suspicion. "I select a character long in advance, either a real character whose Identity I must assume or a fictitious character whose identity I can use at any time. Sister Mary Genevieve, for example --" and he slipped back into the wavery older feminine voice "-- she's such a dear old person."
He reverted back to his own voice again, reaching up to the heart-shaped object at the base of the wimpled collar just over his nearly flat-chested breasts. "This for example, is metal." He touched the cross that hung on the long oversized rosary trailing down the side of his black, ankle-length skirt. "This is metal."
Glancing through the window to see that no pedestrian or motorist might be looking, he raised the black poncholike dress beneath the white collar to show where the sleeves of the dress met the armpit. "These are pinned -- again metal." He hiked up his skirt above his knees to expose his right thigh. A razor-blade-thin knife in a sheath was held up by garter clips. "In some respects, it is the perfect disguise." He dropped the skirt again. He was tired of talking to the woman, but had decided to be polite. She was the wife of the Nazi-leaning driver.
"But Mr False-Face," the woman persisted, "I--I just don't how to -- Oh, never mind."
"Do I like women, or just like to dress like them? I disguise myself however is necessary," False-Face told her. "Yesterday I was a general in the United States Army, before that something else. And yes, I like women. Very much." He turned away from the woman beside him, staring into the street.
Wind gusted outside. He could hear and feel it on the exposed skin of his face -- even through the makeup -- through the partially opened window. There was a tall thin girl standing at the curb, waiting beside a bus-stop sign. The wind caught at her blond hair, and he looked at her closely as the car passed her. "I like women very much," he murmured.
***
He secured the dark tie with a Windsor knot, then picked up the handcuff tie tack from the dresser. He placed the tack on the tie, securing it to the blue shirt he wore.
False-Face stepped back from the mirror, satisfied with his appearance. He was now dark haired, with a neatly trimmed brush mustache and a scar over his left eyebrow. The gold-capped canine tooth glittered on the right side of his mouth.
He turned away from the mirror and located the gun belt and the handcuff case. The Gateway City policeman outfit was perfect. Already at his trouser belt was a .36-caliber revolver. He put on the gun belt, then picked up the revolver that lay on the bed. He settled the revolver in the holster after checking the cylinder again. He reached for the officer's cap, not bothering to put it on.
He walked out of the bedroom into the narrow hallway of the home, then turned right and down the steps, stopping halfway. The blond-haired wife of the Nazi looked up saying, "It can't be you!"
Billy Mason, who had come by a different route and arrived three hours before False-Face himself, laughed. "F.F., you should have stayed an actor. You are brilliant!"
In his new West Coast voice, False-Face said, "You bastards are under arrest. Up against the wall and spread 'em." Then False-Face laughed.
***
The basement recreation room -- already curtained against the eyes of prying neighbors -- had been converted to a bomb factory. The pool table was covered with a floral-print bedsheet, and over that was a plastic painter's drop cloth. Now False-Face was working over the table, following the directions given him by The Boomer.
False-Face made the last adjustment of the electronics, then fitted his detonation device. It was ready.
He checked the Timex watch that went with his new disguise. He watched the sweep second hand, then looked at the clock that was part of the detonator. He had set both according to the time the telephone operator had given him. He watched the second hand edge past twelve, then flicked the toggle switch on the detonator at the same second.
In the voice of the cop, False-Face exclaimed, "Hot damn!" Flyboy was the only one who laughed.
***
"How can you just sit there so calmly, Mr. False-Face?" asked Belcher, the husband of the blond woman.
False-Face was relaxing in an overstuffed armchair in the Belcher's living room, sipping his coffee. Billy Mason reclined on the sofa.
In his own voice, False-Face answered, "Very easily. The bomb will not detonate until it is supposed to detonate. It is totally safe."
"I've been a Nazi for many years, but I never did anything like this," the man said.
False-Face smiled at him and then at the second Nazi. "But you have been loyal to the party -- more than that, to the ideal. Anyone can go out wearing a swastika armband and picket a synagogue, or pick fights with blacks. But you have done none of that."
"My father, his brother -- they both served the fuhrer."
"And served him well in the underground here -- as you serve the new order that will come because of your efforts."
"Mr False-Face, would it not be possible," Mr Belcher asked, "to know your true identity? It would mean a lot to my wife, Janet. And I could tell our grandchildren that we knew you, were here when the new order began."
False-Face smiled expansively. "Perhaps this is my real face. Perhaps I am really that old nun or perhaps someone else. If you do not know me as I really am, then you are in no danger --"
"That we might betray you?" the second Nazi asked.
False-Face sipped again at his coffee. "Mrs Belcher, you make excellent coffee," he told the blond woman.
She smiled, then said, "Is that it then, Mr False-Face? That we might accidentally betray you?"
False-Face laughed. "I trust your loyalties. Only drugs or the most severe tortures might force you to denounce your vows. But, no, it is for your safety. As long as you do not know me, you cannot be cruelly abused by the Americans into divulging that which you do not know. I understand that one of the American heroes -- Wonder Woman -- has a magical device of some sort that forces people to tell the truth to her questions." He laughed. "It is for your safety, not mine, that I hide my face."
"But --" It was the blond woman.
False-Face looked at the Timex. There was still time to talk. "Yes, Frau Belcher?"
She smiled at his use of the word "Frau." The woman asked, "I just wondered ... ahh ... with your ... your personal life --"
He interrupted her. "If I take a woman, I wear my own face. But since no one knows the face of False-Face, it does no harm. Does that --" and he smiled "-- answer your question, Frau Belcher?"
Her husband turned to her. "Janet, that's enough! You're embarrassing, Mr False-Face."
"Yes. Yes, William," she answered dutifully, looking down at her hands in her lap.
False-Face coughed, then said, "The other four will be here shortly, correct?"
"Yes," the second Nazi replied.
"Then we will proceed to the university, deposit the device and radio detonate it after we are safely away."
"But the timer?" Mrs Belcher asked.
"The timer is a backup system," False-Face told her easily, smiling. "While Mrs Belcher goes to safety," he continued, "we seven will plant the device. Flyboy will be waiting to airlift us." He glanced at his watch, then at Billy Mason. "Billy, take Mrs Belcher to the others who are loyal and travel to safety."
"Yes, False-Face," Flyboy said, uncoiling himself from the sofa, smiling at Janet Belcher.
She stood up, fussing with her clothes for an instant. Then she leaned down and hugged her husband's neck.
"William, be careful," she murmured. She looked at all of them collectively, then individually. "Mr False-Face, bless you." And then to the second Nazi, "And bless you, too, Fred."
"Thanks, Janet," Fred said. "We'll be fine." Then he laughed. "I'll bring Bill safely back home to you."
She sniffed once loudly, then started from the room. Billy Mason, riveting his eyes for an instant to False-Face's, followed her out of the room.
TO BE CONTINUED ....
***
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