Born on a Monday, Part I

April 17, 1939

The men fled into the night. They could still hear the sirens far behind them. There were only two of them now. They abandoned their car behind a patch of vegetation. Their third companion was dead in it, victim to an errant gunshot during the escape. Their fourth member was back on the steps of the bank. Two of their own gone, plus a policeman and two of the customers at the bank, an elderly man and a young woman.

There had been a plan, but the plan hadn't accounted for a beat cop making a quick stop at the bank, in the middle of their aggressive withdrawal. The plan contained a fall back point should things go awry, but the men were so far off course at this point that such contingencies were lost to them. Neither man was the organizer. They were bagmen, only there to point the guns and carry the money. Their leader was the one gunned down on steps.

So they ran from the city with its cops and their jails. They ran into the wilderness. Into a marshy landscape, pock marked by bogs, choked with plants. They swore as they waded through the brackish water, slapped their necks as the bugs feasted on their flesh. It was unpleasant, but it wasn't the electric chair. They retreated deep into the swamp, until they were at last content that the forces of the law would not penetrate that far in a single night.

The men made camp. The first man was unaccustomed to the wilderness. He felt ill at ease without the markers of the city around. Every errant sound or new sensation prompted a flinch. The other man had done his share of rough living as he crossed the country. Bank robbery was only the latest in a series of jobs worked in the margins. They had no food, though the second man managed to start a fire.

They bickered to pass the time, as much as anything else. Their debacle presented a fork in the road, a point of no return. The money was lost. Their partners. The likelihood of a return to that city grew dim. It was an existential challenge that neither man was prepared to confront at the moment. They never got the chance.

If either of them had been more keen on studying their geography or local history, they would have perhaps known that their involuntary haven was none other than Slaughter Swamp. A place that well deserved its foreboding name, it served as the dumping ground for all manner of the depraved over the decades. Those that dwelled along its outskirts kept charms to protect against the spirits that haunted the swamp. Those that attempted to live within its bounds were consumed. Or so it was said.

As the men huddled by their fire, the swamp gurgled and churned, the unsightly culmination of a process long in the making. From the noxious bog sprouted a hand, grey and massive, with crooked fingers that began to twitch, animated by their contact with the night's air. Hands became an arm became an entire body, spat out from its grave.

The men heard their guest before they saw him. A low moan, rumbled from the reeds, enough to spook even the more seasoned outdoors man. They had enough time to draw their guns as the hulking body shuffled forth, trampling the vegetation. It smelled of unrestrained rot, only the ravaged tatters of a suit clinging to corpse pale skin. The face was a sunken ruin, with beady eyes consumed by a yellow haze. The first man let out a sharp cry and fired instinctively. The creature scarcely registered the impact of the bullet. Instead, its corpse lips parted, revealing the crooked maw of teeth, as it began to utter the words:

"Born on a Monday,

Christened on Tuesday,

Married on Wednesday."

The men retreated backwards, unwilling to let their unwanted guest out of sight. The first man fell on his back, betrayed by the root of a toppled tree. The creature continued.

"Took ill on Thursday.

Grew worse on Friday."

A monstrous hand reached out to the first man, fingers grasping around his head.

"Died on Saturday.

Buried on Sunday.

That was the end of Solomon Grundy."

The hand closed violently. The man jerked about and then became still. For the second time that night, his companion fled. Solomon Grundy followed.

Alan Scott stood on a platform, overlooking the grounds of the World's Fair. He admired the Trylon and the Perisphere, an enormous spire and dome, respectively, the symbols of the fair. Pinnacles of the world of tomorrow, the promise inherent to this entire enterprise. Tomorrow was finally becoming a factor that Alan had the luxury of contemplating.

His firm's work on the fair was nearly complete, only a handful of formalities left to do. It opened to the general public at the end of the month. Alan enjoyed his time here, able to see the exhibits before they were complete. He could sense the tension inherent to a project of this scale as it reached the finish line. Everyone seemed to be holding in one collective breath, waiting to see if the fair could live up to its promise.

At any rate, it kept him busy for the past few months. That and his work as Green Lantern. The Icicle was the start of a trend, as more and more masked villains popped up to challenge him. A handful rose above the growing crowd.

Sportsmaster was an odd match up on paper, lacking any superhuman abilities. The man made up for it with his athletic vigor and lethal aptitude with all manner of weapons and sporting equipment. It was against him that Alan discovered the ring would not provide protection against wooden matter, as a simple bat was used to great effect. There was also Thorn, a woman that took Green Lantern's weakness and exploited it to the fullest with her plant-based projections. She was an unstable criminal with a predilection for flamboyant displays of dominance.

He took slim solace in the fact that he was not alone in this uptick of villains. The news reported new menaces that threatened Superman, the Batman of Gotham and the Flash of Keystone and Central. There was a certain awe in the public at these bouts of power that were now a common occurrence across the nation. Spectacle always sold.

A part of Alan relished the opportunity to fight foes that presented a more formidable challenge. With ordinary criminals he always had to hold back, lest he do undue harm. There was a temptation to ignore such restraint, one that he barely held back at times.

He also wondered about his peers in the arena of superheroism. Did they too lead double lives? Did they find it any easier to balance both sides? He considered trying to track one of them down, but he dismissed that idea as foolish.

Alan ceased his sightseeing and returned to his office in Manhattan. He spent less time here than Martin preferred, but their prospects were much improved. The work on the fair was a signal that the firm had found its footing once again. His secretary, Amanda, flagged him down before he could retreat to his office.

"There was a phone call for you, Alan. From a something Knight," she said. "Give me a moment I wrote it down." She rummaged through her drawer.

"You can tell her I'm busy," said Alan. Sandra had tried a few times to schedule a date with him since their time at the gala. He thought that she was in France still.

"No, no, it wasn't a woman."

"Ted Knight then?"

"That's the one," said Amanda, holding up her note. "He wanted to know if you were free to visit his observatory? I hear Opal City is quite lovely if you don't mind my opinion. Always wanted to see it."

"I'll have to see for myself then. Give Mr. Knight a call for me," said Alan. It was time for a change of scenery.

Opal City was indeed a change. Alan considered himself well traveled, his work having required it for a long time. He had been all over the country, in many of the major cities and countless small localities in between. Opal City lived up to its name, glimmering vibrantly. There was a refined quality to its architecture, characterized by immense statues and geometric patterns that conjured up a sense of regality and sophistication. The people matched that image, displaying an eye for fashion that maintained an astonishing standard. There were exceptions of course, but it was a place that immediately declared its identity to the visitor. He wondered what it would be like to fly above it.

Alan met Ted in the city, where they enjoyed a day in the city. Ted played the enthusiastic guide, taking him around a selection of his favorite locales. They went from restaurants to parks and museums, with Ted providing insight the entire way. He retained the laid back quality of their past encounter, but there was a vibrancy to the way he discussed subjects like astronomy, history and culture. Alan was so caught up in the fun that it took him some time to realize that sensation of lightness, of being free of worry that underlined his visit. It had been so long since he had a chance to relax.

At the onset of night, Ted took Alan back to his observatory, which lay on the outskirts of the city, along the coast. It stood with a commanding presence on a cliffside, overlooking the ocean. A respectable estate was attached, though Ted informed him that his family lived in the city proper. He led Alan into the observatory, up the winding staircase to the summit. An enormous telescope sat in the center of the room, peering out of the dome.

"This is my inner sanctum," said Ted, immediately approaching the telescope.. Along the way, he gestured to arrays of machinery and instruments that lined the room, pulsating with lights. "Where I can uncover the universe, bit by bit."

Alan let out an impressed whistle. He peeked under a work bench covered hastily with a cloth sheet. There was a partially assembled rod underneath. He noted it and moved on.

"This must cost a fortune."

"The benefits of having a family so tied into the advances in aeronautics and astronomy. I don't keep up all that much with the business."

It had been a long time since Alan was hurting for money, but he could still appreciate the gap that existed between Ted and him. There was well off and then there was having an entire personal observatory with state of the art equipment.

"I wish I had that luxury. The firm's been running me ragged. Better than the alternative."

Ted nodded and began to tinker with the telescope, changing its orientation. Alan continued to fill the silence.

"I've actually been considering getting involved in broadcasting. A few of the folks I worked on the fair with have connections in that field. An opportunity to try something new, stretch my legs..."

"Hold that thought Alan," said Ted, waving him close. "I don't mean to be rude, but you simply must see this."

Alan followed his prompts and looked through the telescopes. He was transported into the heavens, into the distant drama of the stars themselves. There was a ring of red and blue light, emanating from a central, unstable pinprick. Even from this view it appeared to fluctuate rhythmically.

"What am I looking at here, Ted?"

"That is my latest discovery," said Ted, unable to conceal the enthusiasm in his voice.

"My hypothesis is that we are observing the ghost of a planetary body, decades after its demise."

"How?"

"That's the length of time required for this light to reach us. I cross referenced my current observations with past records of this position and determined that the phenomena you are seeing right now is recent. The past has only just caught up with us."

The display of light became a more somber display for Alan. He left the telescope.

"Well," said Ted, "What do you think?"

"It's amazing."

Ted's expression lost a hint of its enthusiasm.

"You seem troubled, Alan."

"I suppose it seems silly, what with all this taking place in the past and so far away, but you could say that the death of a planet does make a man prone to existential musings."

"Humbling isn't it?"

"Terrifying more like. To know we're only a speck. That all this might not matter."

Ted stroked his chin. His eyes appeared briefly distant.

"I find that a healthy respect for the scale of the universe and a reminder of our own minor place within it can be immensely liberating."

The carefree feeling was gone. The wave of simmering anxiety returned in its wake. Alan felt that jitter below the surface. He found a seat in Ted's lab.

"Are you alright?" said Ted.

"I guess in a lot of ways I'm not. To be honest." Ted looked at Alan with concern.

"You may have heard this about me already. I know word has its way of doing the rounds. I was in a terrible rail accident about a year ago."

"This is the first I'm hearing of it," said Ted.

"Killed everyone but me. Including a close friend," said Alan. "Maybe my closest friend."

"That's horrible Alan. I'm terribly sorry."

"I appreciate that Ted. I heard that so much afterwards that it lost its meaning, but from you it still holds power.

Anyway, I'm not meaning to bring you down. I guess.. I suppose that I have to believe that we matter on a certain level. That there's more to it than cosmic indifference. That my friend mattered."

Ted sat across from Alan. He had a gentle expression.

"This may be nonsense to you, but I think that looking into that expanse of the stars, at the vast scope of it all gives more power to our lives. That in spite of how small we are, the fact that we continue to live our lives, to make connections with others, to exist is what matters."

"That's a nice thought Ted. Really is."

"I'm glad you visited Alan. It sounds like you need connection," said Ted.

Alan looked at Ted, drinking in his features. He was struck by the compassion that played out on the man's face, the delicate arch of his brows, the messy swoop that characterized his hair. There was a warmth in Alan's chest, a flutter that he hadn't felt since Jimmy. He wanted to reach out and cup Ted's face, to pull him close. He buried that urge. It was too uncertain.

He stood, his face burning. Ted got up with him.

"I think it may be time for me to leave." Alan headed for the stairs.

"Are you sure? You're welcome to stay longer," said Ted.

"It's been a wonderful day, Ted. You were right that I needed it. But, I've got a major project that I need to get back to in Manhattan. I'll have to have you over next time."

The men exchanged somewhat stilted goodbyes, as Alan summoned Derby to pick him up. His nerves warped to anger as he waited. They were only a few minutes into the drive, when Derby spoke up.

"Boss, you outta know, something big's going down back home."

"What is it?"

"Heard on the radio that there's a freak tearing up the place. Tore right through an entire city block. Cops are trying to stop im, but no luck. Sounds like its right up your alley, boss."

Alan flexed his fist. The ring stared back at him, flames already springing off of it. It was time to work off his anger.