JSA: If Looks Could Kill
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 14
The five rotor blades churning through the skies overhead made a terrible racket, Batman thought, turning toward Sandman as the crimefighter tapped him on the shoulder. The Sandman leaned toward the Caped Crusader's right ear, "We're almost there," he said through his gas mask.
Besides himself and Batman seated behind the pilot and copilot -- in this case the pilot was the base commander himself -- there were eight other men, all heavily armed. Two more helicopters, each with two man crews and ten armed personnel, comprised the rest of the fleet. The Sandman glanced at his wristwatch, then out the Plexiglas ahead of him through the pilot's bubble. The lights of Cape Canaveral were coming up fast.
The base commander asked the two crimefighters, "What's the strategy going to be? You want me to announce over the PA system that a problem exists and we will wait for a signal flare or some arrangement of shots to be fired or a radio contact before we move?"
Batman replied, "Wait three minutes, hovering over the space center. If there is no agreement from the forces on the ground, we will initiate a three-pronged attack. Our craft will land on the science center roof, the craft to starboard on the science center lawn, the third craft on the parking lot. Your men -- they realize ..."
"They are all volunteers. None of them wishes to kill his own countryman, but all realize the situation. They were told the truth so far as we know it," the colonel said.
Batman nodded, realizing the colonel couldn't see him.
"Good. You've got the ball, colonel -- until we get on the ground. But tell your people one thing -- False-Face could be anyone. If they're looking for a major in an Air Force uniform, they'll never find him. He could be anyone, from looking like Doctor Pappas to the cleaning lady. Anyone."
"Even yourself, Batman?" and the Masked Manhunter heard the colonel's laughter. "We are over the target."
Batman heard the words coming over the PA, echoing to the fenced-in area surrounding the science center. He doubted they would be believed, but regardless of the potential wasting of three minutes, they had to try to convince the defenders of the complex. They had to try ...
Three minutes ticked away, and The Sandman watched the sweep second hand of his watch pass the inverted triangle that held the place of twelve -- but there was no flare, there was no radio message, there was no triple series of three shots fired from the darkness below.
He heard the colonel's voice, sounding tight, choked. "If you mystery men are right and there is a God, then let him damn this False-Face who makes us kill our own men." There was a long pause, then the colonel simply said into his radio, "Begin." There was a slight shudder from the chopper as missiles were fired toward the ground beyond the police positions into a park. The night below lit with fire and the helicopter was moving.
The craft to starboard broke off, arcing sharply away, veering toward the front lawns of the science center. The craft to port accelerated more rapidly than Sandman thought possible, climbing, seeming almost to skip over the complex roof, then dropped from sight. Their own helicopter was angling downward, going at a slower speed than either of the other two craft. The Sandman guessed the base commander spent more time flying a desk than a gunship.
Batman could feel the helicopter settling. He heard the base commander's voice. "Touchdown in five -- one, two, three, four -- we've landed."
One of the eight additional men on the chopper slid back the portside doors. Batman leapt out with The Sandman and the others behind him.
A voice shouted out a warning from behind an external air conditioning unit. The Caped Crusader wheeled toward the voice, but gunfire started to crash through the night. He was on the run. He dived for cover behind an identical duplicate of the air conditioning unit. Assault-rifle fire punctuated the night around him. The Air Police advanced in a ragged wedge toward the origin of the gunfire. The PA system from the helicopter continued to demand surrender, trying to reason with the defenders.
Batman was up and running, Sandman beside him as they started for what seemed to be a doorway leading down from the roof and inside. Four men raced to block them off, guns firing. The Dark Knight from Gotham City leapt into the air and dropped kicked one in the face. The Sandman used his gas gun on another defender. More men joined the original four, making six in all now. The Sandman pulled the trigger on the gas gun, all of the would- be defenders went down.
Batman reached the door first -- it was locked.
"Step back," the Masked Manhunter yelled. He reached to his utility belt and pulled out a glass tube. He threw it at the door and turned his face away. The Sandman also turned away as the door exploded off its hinges. Batman turned toward the doorway and pulled off what little of the door was left.
The Sandman took out of his pocket something that looked like a metal can with a pull-ring on the top. "Put your gas mask on, Batman," he said.
Batman reached into his utility belt once more and pulled out a device that covered his mouth and nose.
Sandman pulled the ring on top of the can and immediately a jet of smoke started pouring out. He threw the knockout gas canister down the stairway and stepped back for a moment.
"You ready?" Batman snapped.
"Ready," The Sandman's voice rasped.
Batman nodded in the darkness. "Let's go down the stairs."
A moment later, the two heroes stepped through the doorway and into the blackness of the stairwell.
As Batman was making his way cautiously down the stairs, he felt himself falling, tripping over a body, skidding down the stairs, bracing himself halfway and stopping his fall.
There were no screams, no shouts. There was no gunfire.
"Keep your head down." It was Sandman, and the Caped Crusader tucked down. The Sandman then let loose another volley of knockout gas from his gun.
Batman stopped at the base of the stairwell. He could faintly see the doorway. "Cover me," he shouted hoarsely into the darkness behind him, hearing the sound of rifle bolts from the Air Police personnel who followed the two crimefighters down the stairwell.
"Right," The Sandman's voice came.
The Masked Manhunter tried the door -- its knob turned under his hand. It opened outward and he kicked the door open, blinded temporarily by the bright light from the corridor beyond. Gunfire tore through the open doorway toward him, and he tucked back.
The Sandman took his place closest to the door. He whispered to the soldiers who had accompanied the heroes down the stairs. "Masks," he instructed quietly. He pulled out two more gas canisters from his pockets. Sandman pulled the ring on one of the cans and tossed it around the corner of the doorway. He pulled the ring on the other one and hurled it in the other direction in the corridor.
He silently counted three and then shouted, "Let's go!" as he dived through, rolling into the corridor, jumping up, gas gun ready as his eyes searched for cover.
Sandman ran for a doorway, assault-rifle fire chewing into the floor around his feet, ripping chunks of plaster from the corridor walls. Chunks of ceiling tile crashed down in a stream of dust.
The Sandman hugged into the doorway, adjusted the nozzle on his gas gun. "Batman," he called out, "count to three and run for it, toward the doorway to your right as you make it through!"
"Right," came the reply. "Counting -- one -- two -- THREE!"
Sandman broke cover, running, firing his gas gun in a sweeping motion. The gas came out as a fog and covered the entire corridor.
Batman did as he was instructed was safe in cover.
The Sandman glanced at his watch -- there couldn't be much time left now before False-Face's device would blow and contaminate the space center with VX nerve gas, killing everyone without a gas mask on in its wake.
"Go for it -- down the corridor," Batman shouted, breaking cover. Sandman was moving. He hoped they had enough time.
***
Milt Pappas looked to his dark-haired, dark-eyed wife at his side. "You should have taken the children and left when the major brought the weapon here," he said softly.
"No -- the complex was sealed," he heard her whisper, watching her hands. She was a cardiac surgeon, and she was using this touch, this delicacy, to unravel the wires within what appeared to be the main detonator.
"The guards know you, they trust you, they would have perhaps let you leave," he persisted.
Pappas shuddered, hearing more of the gunfire from beyond the steel doors of the demonstration laboratory. He watched his wife's eyes flicker each time there was a fresh burst of fire.
He looked from her to his colleague. Anderson's white mane of hair fell across his eyes and he brushed it back as he scrutinized the detonator head. "This is useless," the older man began. "I tell you, Milt, this is useless. The entire device is set as a trap."
"I think the war has begun already." Pappas looked at the origin of the voice, Anderson's assistant, Tina. "It is World War III," she said without raising her eyes from the systems diagram she was completing at the drafting table at the far end of the laboratory table.
"It is not a world war," Pappas heard his wife reprove. "No one would be stupid enough."
"If the Russians sent this bomb as the major said, then whatever other reason?" Dan Vassilovitch asked, using a scanner near Anderson by the detonator head. Vassilovitch was a radio astronomer interested in geology as a sideline. "It must be a world war -- we are all doomed anyway. This will likely be a prime target for the communists, so we can all be killed."
Pappas threw down the tiny jeweler's screwdriver he was using to work at the timer machanism -- he heard a spring pop. "It is not World War III -- we are not all going to die unless we detonate this bomb by accident -- I tell you that!"
He swallowed hard, and sighed loudly. His wife's hand touched at his and he looked into her eyes. "I love you," she whispered, then returned to her work.
He returned to his, hearing young Tina. She was only nineteen and already held a doctorate and was working toward a second. "From this diagram I make, I can see the arrangement clearly enough," she said as she looked up. "This device was designed to detonate when it was tampered with. There is -- or there was -- no actual timer. When we opened the cowling we activated a circuit -- look for yourselves."
Pappas picked up the cowling and examined the underside. A tiny magnetic clip stared back at him.
"My God -- she is right. We have activated it ourselves!" His wife sank against him.
Tina's voice came again. "The circuitry is eroding -- it appears there is less than fifteen minutes, vastly less I think. And then, it is all gone."
Pappas swept his wife into his arms, kissing her head. "No!" He shouted the word into the darkness beyond the lighted laboratory table. And he heard the gunfire outside. It was drawing closer.
***
It was evident from the pattern of defense that whatever was being defended lay at the end of a long, narrow corridor. The corridor was like a spoke of a wheel, and at the end was their target, the hub.
Batman and Sandman had been joined by six of the air police and the base commander. It was the base commander who spoke, through a bullhorn. The base commander said: "Many of you know me, my wife works here. My son goes to school here. The Air Force major you trusted, the orders he issued to your commanders -- all were false. You are protecting a dangerous weapon which will destroy us all, possibly in minutes. So many of us have died here tonight. Lay down your arms and we shall lay down ours. It is a time for trust."
The base commander then placed his pistol on the floor and walked empty- handed toward the end of the corridor.
Batman watched ahead of him now, as men stepped from the cover of doorways, holding their M-1 rifles as if they weren't quite sure what to do with them. He was reminded of a phrase attributed to Napoleon. A messenger arrived, Napoleon read the dispatch, then exclaimed, "Good God -- peace has broken out!"
A security officer stepped from a doorway, weaponless. The base commander said, "Andy, you know me. We speak the truth. We can fight and die or find this bomb that is supposed to be laced with nerve gas together and disarm it."
The uniformed security officer looked down at the floor, then up to the base commander. Batman watched. The security officer threw up his hands in disgust or surrender, the Caped Crusader wasn't sure which. He muttered a single word, "Yes," and shrugged. He started toward the base commander, arms spread out and the two men embraced.
A corporal ran up to them, breathless, saluted the two senior officers and began to report. "Sir, we have cut the main generator's power supply into the laboratory, which is sometimes used as a demonstration operating theater. But the door's pneumatic lock is now inoperative and we can't pull it open."
Batman watched the security officer as the man barked out orders and three men, big men, began working at the door.
The colonel was speaking into a loud hailer, "This is imperative -- you must believe us. We will be entering your laboratory in moments. We wish to help you with the bomb. We know all the details, how you have been told it is a Russian weapon. It was brought here by a Nazi. Pappas, you are Jewish. Do you wish to serve the Nazi cause? Help us. There are crimefighters with us, friends, here, to help with disarming the bomb." Batman only wished that he could.
And then an old man came up, a high ranking noncom. He saluted the colonel, said something and the colonel gave him the microphone. The air base commander told the two costumed crimefighters, "A girl in there, a scientist is his eldest daughter."
The noncom said into the microphone, "Tina -- this is your father. The truth is the weapon in there will explode any minute, and you will die and so will I and all these good men out here with me and the men and women there with you. You must open this door."
The man returned the microphone to the colonel. The pneumatic door had opened only a fraction of an inch, the men using bayonets as prybars. But the doors stuck closed.
Batman felt sweat running down his face, wishing Hourman had come with them.
Then he heard a voice through the crack on the other side of the door. It was a woman's voice. "The bomb will detonate in seven minutes. We cannot stop it, papa -- but I have released the lock."
Batman waited, tensed, as the men continued to work on the door, prying it open now with comparative ease. He pushed through, running toward the center of the laboratory, the blond-haired young girl suddenly running beside him, saying, "Less than seven minutes now, I think. Are you a mystery man?"
He looked at her, "Yes, how did you know?"
"It's the mask and cape. You all look alike," she answered with a straight face.
He reached the center of the laboratory, where a gaunt, bearded man stood looking at him. He said to Batman, "This is your work?" gesturing toward the device at the center of the table.
"No. Can you stop it?" the Masked Manhunter asked.
"No, we cannot," was all Pappas said, as he hugged a dark-haired, rather pretty woman close to his side.
"I can order evacuation --" It was the voice of the air base commander.
"If all cannot be taken to safety, none of us shall leave." It was a white- haired man.
"Agreed," the bearded man nodded.
Batman turned to the colonel. "He has a point."
"Pappas?"
"Yes. We'll have to risk getting the device away from here. I'll need your helicopter. I need the keys."
The colonel's eyes flickered and he handed the chopper keys to Batman.
The Caped Crusader nodded and pointed to the bomb. "Get some of your men to get this onto the roof and load her up and get your copilot to preflight it fast and get out."
"We need to head for the Atlantic and I'll fly her out until I've got --" Batman continued.
"You will die, my friend," The Sandman said matter-of-factly.
"No kidding," Batman said. "Get that bomb moving."
Sandman nodded, and the base commander barked orders.
Four men came forward and began to move the weapon, walking as quickly as they could with it.
Batman started after them, hearing the base commander saying, Northeast is your only hope, head for the open sea."
The Masked Crimefighter from Gotham City broke into a run. The bearded man, Pappas, was beside him now. "You must be a minimum of ten miles away from any population center and the blast effect will be minimized if you can get as close to the water as possible before the bomb detonates."
Batman only nodded, hearing the girl, Tina, saying, Only five minutes and forty-five seconds now, I think."
"Wonderful, lady," an exasperated Caped Crusader said. At least he wouldn't have time to worry about an afterlife.
He was at the stairwell. Sandman was somewhere but not in sight. He wanted to say good-bye, maybe given the man -- the closest one, here, to him -- a farewell message for Kathy, Alfred, Dick, and for Selina if she were found alive.
And where was False-Face? he wondered.
Batman reached the roof. There was still no sign of The Sandman as he ran toward the helicopter and climbed aboard, eyeing the red light flashing from the bomb. He didn't know if it meant anything or not. He had less than five minutes. At a maximum cruising speed of 229 miles per hour, it could make just a little less than four miles per minute. That made two and one half minutes until he was ten miles from the coast of Florida, maybe four minutes before he was at a safe spot over the water and then wait for detonation. "Shit," he stormed, as he feverishly worked the controls, getting airborne. Then he heard a voice from behind him.
It was Sandman. "I couldn't let you upstage me -- or allow a friend to die alone. I calculate that in less than five minutes the blast will take place. In three we should be safely away from population centers. Give it an extra half minute for security."
"Thanks for thinking of me," Batman rasped. He had the throttle all the way out, the compass heading northeast.
The Sandman felt the muscles of his face tightening under his gas mask as he watched the second hand of his watch tick away his life.
***
False-Face opened the thin-bladed knife, slowly, carefully. He eyed the blade's target and moved the knife into position again slowly. He touched the blade to the skin, cutting through it, into the substance beneath. The piece of summer sausage cut now, he folded it neatly in half and ate it, looking at the old woman beside him aboard the passenger car, hearing the click of the rails. He smiled at her, gesturing with the sausage, the woman smiling back. He cut her a piece, feeling in a magnanimous mood.
He handed her the sausage piece, then folded the knife closed after wiping the blade on a rag and placed it back inside his cloth purse and settled the purse on his lap. He replaced the sausage in the basket and closed his eyes, folding his hands over the skirt in his lap.
The woman beside him spoke, and False-Face, in his old-woman's voice, answered that he was on his way to see his son, who was a student at a college in Atlanta. Mentally, he ticked off the time. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he opened his coat and unfastened the top two buttons of his black sweater, lifting the watch pinned to the front of his threadbare white blouse. It showed less than three minutes to detonation, but he would be too far to see anything.
He let the watch fall to his sagging breast, rebuttoned his sweater and closed his eyes. The old woman spoke again and he opened his eyes to look at her. She was holding out a photograph of her son.
False-Face smiled, opening his purse, fumbling through it and producing a picture of his son -- it was actually a picture of The Boomer as a young man, before he'd become the master bomber and False-Face's instrument for world domination.
He replaced the photograph in his purse, listening to the woman's idle chatter.
It would be less than two minutes now. And then only one step would remain -- the final step, the ultimate act of his master plan, at the seat of temporal power.
He chatted with the old woman, waiting for the time to pass. It would be any moment now.
***
Batman realized that he and Sandman were going to die. They were less than two minutes out and more than twelve miles from the coast of Florida, as he reckoned it. The air base must've had some hotshot mechanic working on the choppers. The cruising speed of the helicopter seemed to be faster than what it was rated at.
He looked below and saw nothing but the blue water of the Atlantic Ocean. He needed to get as low to the sea in order to minimize the spread of the nerve gas into the air.
The Sandman stole a last glance to his watch -- perhaps a minute and half remained. He noticed that Batman was lowering the chopper to get as close to the water as possible.
A thought struck him. Perhaps he could push the device from the helicopter and it would be under water when it exploded. He wasn't sure what kind of environmental damage it would cause -- but perhaps it was worth a shot!
The Sandman got up from his seat opened the side door.
"What are you doing?" Batman asked.
"Going to get rid of this thing, maybe we'll be able to survive this after all."
"But what about --?"
"You got a better idea, Batman?"
The Caped Crusader knew that he didn't and just continued flying the helicopter as fast it would go.
Selina -- he thought of her, perhaps already dead, perhaps awaiting False- Face's pleasure -- and of False-Face getting away with it. Wildcat and the rest of the JSA were good -- maybe they would continue to help in the search and would eventually get False-Face. Though he'd never told them, he highly regarded the abilities of his fellow Justice Society members.
"Selina," Batman whispered into the night, as the helicopter skimmed the waves of the ocean.
The Sandman kept pushing the bomb toward the door. He calculated one minute was left.
"This damn thing is heavier than I thought," he cried out.
He pushed as hard as he could. It would only move a few inches at a time.
Batman could hear The Sandman's groans as he struggled with his attempt to get rid of the deadly device. The red light on the bomb seemed brighter now.
Sandman continued to push.
His mind was counting down the seconds. "Fifty-five -- fifty-four -- fifty- three -- fifty-two --" He kept pushing, the helicopter continued moving fast, less than a hundred feet from the water.
If he could just get this thing out the door, they might survive. The word "might" echoed in his head.
Sandman kept pushing. He threw every once of strength into his effort. The helicopter was now less than twenty-five feet over the water, and Sandman's lungs ached with the air he gulped.
The helicopter was just skimming over the waves. It dipped and The Sandman stopped momentarily.
The device was nearing the open sliding door. His hands slipped as he pushed again. The helicopter seemed to accelerate. Sandman's muscles started to cramp.
After planting his legs firmly, he gave the bomb one final push out the open door. His legs pushed so hard that they almost propelled him out the door, as well.
Batman had watched as the bomb went out the door and shouted to Sandman, "Hang on -- we ...."
Suddenly, there was a bright green light that lit up the darkness and the inside of the helicopter. Amazingly, Batman watched as the bomb floated in front of him and seemed to move. The device was enclosed in a brilliant green light. To his left, Batman saw a blonde figure wearing a red tunic, green pants and a dark cape waving to him.
The Sandman was now standing right behind Batman who was in the pilot's seat. He looked out the window. He almost screamed, "It's --!"
"Green Lantern," Batman finished for him.
The two crimefighters in the helicopter watched as the bomb seemed to rocket upwards at incredible speed with the Green Lantern trailing behind it. Within a matter of a few seconds he was out of sight.
Straining to look upwards, The Sandman, who was now in the copilot seat, saw a faint flash many miles up in the sky.
Sandman was at a loss for words. He knew that Batman and himself had just been pulled from the jaws of death by the unexpected appearance of the Green Lantern. The emerald hero had grabbed the bomb that was laced with VX nerve gas and transported it so it could explode harmlessly into outer space.
The helicopter was at full throttle. They were still alive.
Batman felt The Sandman's left hand on his shoulder. "I'd say we won."
The Caped Crusader nodded and turned the chopper to head back to Florida. They had beaten False-Face again -- but he still had ninety-eight VX nerve gas canisters in his possession. False-Face, Batman reflected, needed to be lucky only once. The members of the Justice Society of America needed to lucky all the time.
***
False-Face turned to the window. For an instant, he thought he had seen some kind of green glow at a great distance.
He smiled.
He had won the day -- or so he thought.
One battle remained -- a great battle.
From there to history.
He turned to the old woman beside him, opening his purse, removing the slim- bladed knife, saying to her in his old woman voice, "Would you like more of my summer sausage? It will be a long train ride."
The old woman answered, "I have some sandwiches and an apple. We can share them, perhaps?"
False-Face smiled, turning in his seat, smoothing his clothes over his legs. He began to slice pieces of the summer sausage as the old woman beside him spread a handkerchief on her lap, like a tablecloth.
The milk of human kindness -- it touched him.
********************
The Justice Society of America returns to do battle with the evil False- Face in Part 3 of this story that will be entitled, "JSA: Shell Shock," coming in a few months on FFN.
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 14
The five rotor blades churning through the skies overhead made a terrible racket, Batman thought, turning toward Sandman as the crimefighter tapped him on the shoulder. The Sandman leaned toward the Caped Crusader's right ear, "We're almost there," he said through his gas mask.
Besides himself and Batman seated behind the pilot and copilot -- in this case the pilot was the base commander himself -- there were eight other men, all heavily armed. Two more helicopters, each with two man crews and ten armed personnel, comprised the rest of the fleet. The Sandman glanced at his wristwatch, then out the Plexiglas ahead of him through the pilot's bubble. The lights of Cape Canaveral were coming up fast.
The base commander asked the two crimefighters, "What's the strategy going to be? You want me to announce over the PA system that a problem exists and we will wait for a signal flare or some arrangement of shots to be fired or a radio contact before we move?"
Batman replied, "Wait three minutes, hovering over the space center. If there is no agreement from the forces on the ground, we will initiate a three-pronged attack. Our craft will land on the science center roof, the craft to starboard on the science center lawn, the third craft on the parking lot. Your men -- they realize ..."
"They are all volunteers. None of them wishes to kill his own countryman, but all realize the situation. They were told the truth so far as we know it," the colonel said.
Batman nodded, realizing the colonel couldn't see him.
"Good. You've got the ball, colonel -- until we get on the ground. But tell your people one thing -- False-Face could be anyone. If they're looking for a major in an Air Force uniform, they'll never find him. He could be anyone, from looking like Doctor Pappas to the cleaning lady. Anyone."
"Even yourself, Batman?" and the Masked Manhunter heard the colonel's laughter. "We are over the target."
Batman heard the words coming over the PA, echoing to the fenced-in area surrounding the science center. He doubted they would be believed, but regardless of the potential wasting of three minutes, they had to try to convince the defenders of the complex. They had to try ...
Three minutes ticked away, and The Sandman watched the sweep second hand of his watch pass the inverted triangle that held the place of twelve -- but there was no flare, there was no radio message, there was no triple series of three shots fired from the darkness below.
He heard the colonel's voice, sounding tight, choked. "If you mystery men are right and there is a God, then let him damn this False-Face who makes us kill our own men." There was a long pause, then the colonel simply said into his radio, "Begin." There was a slight shudder from the chopper as missiles were fired toward the ground beyond the police positions into a park. The night below lit with fire and the helicopter was moving.
The craft to starboard broke off, arcing sharply away, veering toward the front lawns of the science center. The craft to port accelerated more rapidly than Sandman thought possible, climbing, seeming almost to skip over the complex roof, then dropped from sight. Their own helicopter was angling downward, going at a slower speed than either of the other two craft. The Sandman guessed the base commander spent more time flying a desk than a gunship.
Batman could feel the helicopter settling. He heard the base commander's voice. "Touchdown in five -- one, two, three, four -- we've landed."
One of the eight additional men on the chopper slid back the portside doors. Batman leapt out with The Sandman and the others behind him.
A voice shouted out a warning from behind an external air conditioning unit. The Caped Crusader wheeled toward the voice, but gunfire started to crash through the night. He was on the run. He dived for cover behind an identical duplicate of the air conditioning unit. Assault-rifle fire punctuated the night around him. The Air Police advanced in a ragged wedge toward the origin of the gunfire. The PA system from the helicopter continued to demand surrender, trying to reason with the defenders.
Batman was up and running, Sandman beside him as they started for what seemed to be a doorway leading down from the roof and inside. Four men raced to block them off, guns firing. The Dark Knight from Gotham City leapt into the air and dropped kicked one in the face. The Sandman used his gas gun on another defender. More men joined the original four, making six in all now. The Sandman pulled the trigger on the gas gun, all of the would- be defenders went down.
Batman reached the door first -- it was locked.
"Step back," the Masked Manhunter yelled. He reached to his utility belt and pulled out a glass tube. He threw it at the door and turned his face away. The Sandman also turned away as the door exploded off its hinges. Batman turned toward the doorway and pulled off what little of the door was left.
The Sandman took out of his pocket something that looked like a metal can with a pull-ring on the top. "Put your gas mask on, Batman," he said.
Batman reached into his utility belt once more and pulled out a device that covered his mouth and nose.
Sandman pulled the ring on top of the can and immediately a jet of smoke started pouring out. He threw the knockout gas canister down the stairway and stepped back for a moment.
"You ready?" Batman snapped.
"Ready," The Sandman's voice rasped.
Batman nodded in the darkness. "Let's go down the stairs."
A moment later, the two heroes stepped through the doorway and into the blackness of the stairwell.
As Batman was making his way cautiously down the stairs, he felt himself falling, tripping over a body, skidding down the stairs, bracing himself halfway and stopping his fall.
There were no screams, no shouts. There was no gunfire.
"Keep your head down." It was Sandman, and the Caped Crusader tucked down. The Sandman then let loose another volley of knockout gas from his gun.
Batman stopped at the base of the stairwell. He could faintly see the doorway. "Cover me," he shouted hoarsely into the darkness behind him, hearing the sound of rifle bolts from the Air Police personnel who followed the two crimefighters down the stairwell.
"Right," The Sandman's voice came.
The Masked Manhunter tried the door -- its knob turned under his hand. It opened outward and he kicked the door open, blinded temporarily by the bright light from the corridor beyond. Gunfire tore through the open doorway toward him, and he tucked back.
The Sandman took his place closest to the door. He whispered to the soldiers who had accompanied the heroes down the stairs. "Masks," he instructed quietly. He pulled out two more gas canisters from his pockets. Sandman pulled the ring on one of the cans and tossed it around the corner of the doorway. He pulled the ring on the other one and hurled it in the other direction in the corridor.
He silently counted three and then shouted, "Let's go!" as he dived through, rolling into the corridor, jumping up, gas gun ready as his eyes searched for cover.
Sandman ran for a doorway, assault-rifle fire chewing into the floor around his feet, ripping chunks of plaster from the corridor walls. Chunks of ceiling tile crashed down in a stream of dust.
The Sandman hugged into the doorway, adjusted the nozzle on his gas gun. "Batman," he called out, "count to three and run for it, toward the doorway to your right as you make it through!"
"Right," came the reply. "Counting -- one -- two -- THREE!"
Sandman broke cover, running, firing his gas gun in a sweeping motion. The gas came out as a fog and covered the entire corridor.
Batman did as he was instructed was safe in cover.
The Sandman glanced at his watch -- there couldn't be much time left now before False-Face's device would blow and contaminate the space center with VX nerve gas, killing everyone without a gas mask on in its wake.
"Go for it -- down the corridor," Batman shouted, breaking cover. Sandman was moving. He hoped they had enough time.
***
Milt Pappas looked to his dark-haired, dark-eyed wife at his side. "You should have taken the children and left when the major brought the weapon here," he said softly.
"No -- the complex was sealed," he heard her whisper, watching her hands. She was a cardiac surgeon, and she was using this touch, this delicacy, to unravel the wires within what appeared to be the main detonator.
"The guards know you, they trust you, they would have perhaps let you leave," he persisted.
Pappas shuddered, hearing more of the gunfire from beyond the steel doors of the demonstration laboratory. He watched his wife's eyes flicker each time there was a fresh burst of fire.
He looked from her to his colleague. Anderson's white mane of hair fell across his eyes and he brushed it back as he scrutinized the detonator head. "This is useless," the older man began. "I tell you, Milt, this is useless. The entire device is set as a trap."
"I think the war has begun already." Pappas looked at the origin of the voice, Anderson's assistant, Tina. "It is World War III," she said without raising her eyes from the systems diagram she was completing at the drafting table at the far end of the laboratory table.
"It is not a world war," Pappas heard his wife reprove. "No one would be stupid enough."
"If the Russians sent this bomb as the major said, then whatever other reason?" Dan Vassilovitch asked, using a scanner near Anderson by the detonator head. Vassilovitch was a radio astronomer interested in geology as a sideline. "It must be a world war -- we are all doomed anyway. This will likely be a prime target for the communists, so we can all be killed."
Pappas threw down the tiny jeweler's screwdriver he was using to work at the timer machanism -- he heard a spring pop. "It is not World War III -- we are not all going to die unless we detonate this bomb by accident -- I tell you that!"
He swallowed hard, and sighed loudly. His wife's hand touched at his and he looked into her eyes. "I love you," she whispered, then returned to her work.
He returned to his, hearing young Tina. She was only nineteen and already held a doctorate and was working toward a second. "From this diagram I make, I can see the arrangement clearly enough," she said as she looked up. "This device was designed to detonate when it was tampered with. There is -- or there was -- no actual timer. When we opened the cowling we activated a circuit -- look for yourselves."
Pappas picked up the cowling and examined the underside. A tiny magnetic clip stared back at him.
"My God -- she is right. We have activated it ourselves!" His wife sank against him.
Tina's voice came again. "The circuitry is eroding -- it appears there is less than fifteen minutes, vastly less I think. And then, it is all gone."
Pappas swept his wife into his arms, kissing her head. "No!" He shouted the word into the darkness beyond the lighted laboratory table. And he heard the gunfire outside. It was drawing closer.
***
It was evident from the pattern of defense that whatever was being defended lay at the end of a long, narrow corridor. The corridor was like a spoke of a wheel, and at the end was their target, the hub.
Batman and Sandman had been joined by six of the air police and the base commander. It was the base commander who spoke, through a bullhorn. The base commander said: "Many of you know me, my wife works here. My son goes to school here. The Air Force major you trusted, the orders he issued to your commanders -- all were false. You are protecting a dangerous weapon which will destroy us all, possibly in minutes. So many of us have died here tonight. Lay down your arms and we shall lay down ours. It is a time for trust."
The base commander then placed his pistol on the floor and walked empty- handed toward the end of the corridor.
Batman watched ahead of him now, as men stepped from the cover of doorways, holding their M-1 rifles as if they weren't quite sure what to do with them. He was reminded of a phrase attributed to Napoleon. A messenger arrived, Napoleon read the dispatch, then exclaimed, "Good God -- peace has broken out!"
A security officer stepped from a doorway, weaponless. The base commander said, "Andy, you know me. We speak the truth. We can fight and die or find this bomb that is supposed to be laced with nerve gas together and disarm it."
The uniformed security officer looked down at the floor, then up to the base commander. Batman watched. The security officer threw up his hands in disgust or surrender, the Caped Crusader wasn't sure which. He muttered a single word, "Yes," and shrugged. He started toward the base commander, arms spread out and the two men embraced.
A corporal ran up to them, breathless, saluted the two senior officers and began to report. "Sir, we have cut the main generator's power supply into the laboratory, which is sometimes used as a demonstration operating theater. But the door's pneumatic lock is now inoperative and we can't pull it open."
Batman watched the security officer as the man barked out orders and three men, big men, began working at the door.
The colonel was speaking into a loud hailer, "This is imperative -- you must believe us. We will be entering your laboratory in moments. We wish to help you with the bomb. We know all the details, how you have been told it is a Russian weapon. It was brought here by a Nazi. Pappas, you are Jewish. Do you wish to serve the Nazi cause? Help us. There are crimefighters with us, friends, here, to help with disarming the bomb." Batman only wished that he could.
And then an old man came up, a high ranking noncom. He saluted the colonel, said something and the colonel gave him the microphone. The air base commander told the two costumed crimefighters, "A girl in there, a scientist is his eldest daughter."
The noncom said into the microphone, "Tina -- this is your father. The truth is the weapon in there will explode any minute, and you will die and so will I and all these good men out here with me and the men and women there with you. You must open this door."
The man returned the microphone to the colonel. The pneumatic door had opened only a fraction of an inch, the men using bayonets as prybars. But the doors stuck closed.
Batman felt sweat running down his face, wishing Hourman had come with them.
Then he heard a voice through the crack on the other side of the door. It was a woman's voice. "The bomb will detonate in seven minutes. We cannot stop it, papa -- but I have released the lock."
Batman waited, tensed, as the men continued to work on the door, prying it open now with comparative ease. He pushed through, running toward the center of the laboratory, the blond-haired young girl suddenly running beside him, saying, "Less than seven minutes now, I think. Are you a mystery man?"
He looked at her, "Yes, how did you know?"
"It's the mask and cape. You all look alike," she answered with a straight face.
He reached the center of the laboratory, where a gaunt, bearded man stood looking at him. He said to Batman, "This is your work?" gesturing toward the device at the center of the table.
"No. Can you stop it?" the Masked Manhunter asked.
"No, we cannot," was all Pappas said, as he hugged a dark-haired, rather pretty woman close to his side.
"I can order evacuation --" It was the voice of the air base commander.
"If all cannot be taken to safety, none of us shall leave." It was a white- haired man.
"Agreed," the bearded man nodded.
Batman turned to the colonel. "He has a point."
"Pappas?"
"Yes. We'll have to risk getting the device away from here. I'll need your helicopter. I need the keys."
The colonel's eyes flickered and he handed the chopper keys to Batman.
The Caped Crusader nodded and pointed to the bomb. "Get some of your men to get this onto the roof and load her up and get your copilot to preflight it fast and get out."
"We need to head for the Atlantic and I'll fly her out until I've got --" Batman continued.
"You will die, my friend," The Sandman said matter-of-factly.
"No kidding," Batman said. "Get that bomb moving."
Sandman nodded, and the base commander barked orders.
Four men came forward and began to move the weapon, walking as quickly as they could with it.
Batman started after them, hearing the base commander saying, Northeast is your only hope, head for the open sea."
The Masked Crimefighter from Gotham City broke into a run. The bearded man, Pappas, was beside him now. "You must be a minimum of ten miles away from any population center and the blast effect will be minimized if you can get as close to the water as possible before the bomb detonates."
Batman only nodded, hearing the girl, Tina, saying, Only five minutes and forty-five seconds now, I think."
"Wonderful, lady," an exasperated Caped Crusader said. At least he wouldn't have time to worry about an afterlife.
He was at the stairwell. Sandman was somewhere but not in sight. He wanted to say good-bye, maybe given the man -- the closest one, here, to him -- a farewell message for Kathy, Alfred, Dick, and for Selina if she were found alive.
And where was False-Face? he wondered.
Batman reached the roof. There was still no sign of The Sandman as he ran toward the helicopter and climbed aboard, eyeing the red light flashing from the bomb. He didn't know if it meant anything or not. He had less than five minutes. At a maximum cruising speed of 229 miles per hour, it could make just a little less than four miles per minute. That made two and one half minutes until he was ten miles from the coast of Florida, maybe four minutes before he was at a safe spot over the water and then wait for detonation. "Shit," he stormed, as he feverishly worked the controls, getting airborne. Then he heard a voice from behind him.
It was Sandman. "I couldn't let you upstage me -- or allow a friend to die alone. I calculate that in less than five minutes the blast will take place. In three we should be safely away from population centers. Give it an extra half minute for security."
"Thanks for thinking of me," Batman rasped. He had the throttle all the way out, the compass heading northeast.
The Sandman felt the muscles of his face tightening under his gas mask as he watched the second hand of his watch tick away his life.
***
False-Face opened the thin-bladed knife, slowly, carefully. He eyed the blade's target and moved the knife into position again slowly. He touched the blade to the skin, cutting through it, into the substance beneath. The piece of summer sausage cut now, he folded it neatly in half and ate it, looking at the old woman beside him aboard the passenger car, hearing the click of the rails. He smiled at her, gesturing with the sausage, the woman smiling back. He cut her a piece, feeling in a magnanimous mood.
He handed her the sausage piece, then folded the knife closed after wiping the blade on a rag and placed it back inside his cloth purse and settled the purse on his lap. He replaced the sausage in the basket and closed his eyes, folding his hands over the skirt in his lap.
The woman beside him spoke, and False-Face, in his old-woman's voice, answered that he was on his way to see his son, who was a student at a college in Atlanta. Mentally, he ticked off the time. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he opened his coat and unfastened the top two buttons of his black sweater, lifting the watch pinned to the front of his threadbare white blouse. It showed less than three minutes to detonation, but he would be too far to see anything.
He let the watch fall to his sagging breast, rebuttoned his sweater and closed his eyes. The old woman spoke again and he opened his eyes to look at her. She was holding out a photograph of her son.
False-Face smiled, opening his purse, fumbling through it and producing a picture of his son -- it was actually a picture of The Boomer as a young man, before he'd become the master bomber and False-Face's instrument for world domination.
He replaced the photograph in his purse, listening to the woman's idle chatter.
It would be less than two minutes now. And then only one step would remain -- the final step, the ultimate act of his master plan, at the seat of temporal power.
He chatted with the old woman, waiting for the time to pass. It would be any moment now.
***
Batman realized that he and Sandman were going to die. They were less than two minutes out and more than twelve miles from the coast of Florida, as he reckoned it. The air base must've had some hotshot mechanic working on the choppers. The cruising speed of the helicopter seemed to be faster than what it was rated at.
He looked below and saw nothing but the blue water of the Atlantic Ocean. He needed to get as low to the sea in order to minimize the spread of the nerve gas into the air.
The Sandman stole a last glance to his watch -- perhaps a minute and half remained. He noticed that Batman was lowering the chopper to get as close to the water as possible.
A thought struck him. Perhaps he could push the device from the helicopter and it would be under water when it exploded. He wasn't sure what kind of environmental damage it would cause -- but perhaps it was worth a shot!
The Sandman got up from his seat opened the side door.
"What are you doing?" Batman asked.
"Going to get rid of this thing, maybe we'll be able to survive this after all."
"But what about --?"
"You got a better idea, Batman?"
The Caped Crusader knew that he didn't and just continued flying the helicopter as fast it would go.
Selina -- he thought of her, perhaps already dead, perhaps awaiting False- Face's pleasure -- and of False-Face getting away with it. Wildcat and the rest of the JSA were good -- maybe they would continue to help in the search and would eventually get False-Face. Though he'd never told them, he highly regarded the abilities of his fellow Justice Society members.
"Selina," Batman whispered into the night, as the helicopter skimmed the waves of the ocean.
The Sandman kept pushing the bomb toward the door. He calculated one minute was left.
"This damn thing is heavier than I thought," he cried out.
He pushed as hard as he could. It would only move a few inches at a time.
Batman could hear The Sandman's groans as he struggled with his attempt to get rid of the deadly device. The red light on the bomb seemed brighter now.
Sandman continued to push.
His mind was counting down the seconds. "Fifty-five -- fifty-four -- fifty- three -- fifty-two --" He kept pushing, the helicopter continued moving fast, less than a hundred feet from the water.
If he could just get this thing out the door, they might survive. The word "might" echoed in his head.
Sandman kept pushing. He threw every once of strength into his effort. The helicopter was now less than twenty-five feet over the water, and Sandman's lungs ached with the air he gulped.
The helicopter was just skimming over the waves. It dipped and The Sandman stopped momentarily.
The device was nearing the open sliding door. His hands slipped as he pushed again. The helicopter seemed to accelerate. Sandman's muscles started to cramp.
After planting his legs firmly, he gave the bomb one final push out the open door. His legs pushed so hard that they almost propelled him out the door, as well.
Batman had watched as the bomb went out the door and shouted to Sandman, "Hang on -- we ...."
Suddenly, there was a bright green light that lit up the darkness and the inside of the helicopter. Amazingly, Batman watched as the bomb floated in front of him and seemed to move. The device was enclosed in a brilliant green light. To his left, Batman saw a blonde figure wearing a red tunic, green pants and a dark cape waving to him.
The Sandman was now standing right behind Batman who was in the pilot's seat. He looked out the window. He almost screamed, "It's --!"
"Green Lantern," Batman finished for him.
The two crimefighters in the helicopter watched as the bomb seemed to rocket upwards at incredible speed with the Green Lantern trailing behind it. Within a matter of a few seconds he was out of sight.
Straining to look upwards, The Sandman, who was now in the copilot seat, saw a faint flash many miles up in the sky.
Sandman was at a loss for words. He knew that Batman and himself had just been pulled from the jaws of death by the unexpected appearance of the Green Lantern. The emerald hero had grabbed the bomb that was laced with VX nerve gas and transported it so it could explode harmlessly into outer space.
The helicopter was at full throttle. They were still alive.
Batman felt The Sandman's left hand on his shoulder. "I'd say we won."
The Caped Crusader nodded and turned the chopper to head back to Florida. They had beaten False-Face again -- but he still had ninety-eight VX nerve gas canisters in his possession. False-Face, Batman reflected, needed to be lucky only once. The members of the Justice Society of America needed to lucky all the time.
***
False-Face turned to the window. For an instant, he thought he had seen some kind of green glow at a great distance.
He smiled.
He had won the day -- or so he thought.
One battle remained -- a great battle.
From there to history.
He turned to the old woman beside him, opening his purse, removing the slim- bladed knife, saying to her in his old woman voice, "Would you like more of my summer sausage? It will be a long train ride."
The old woman answered, "I have some sandwiches and an apple. We can share them, perhaps?"
False-Face smiled, turning in his seat, smoothing his clothes over his legs. He began to slice pieces of the summer sausage as the old woman beside him spread a handkerchief on her lap, like a tablecloth.
The milk of human kindness -- it touched him.
********************
The Justice Society of America returns to do battle with the evil False- Face in Part 3 of this story that will be entitled, "JSA: Shell Shock," coming in a few months on FFN.