Origin of Species
November 6, 1940
"I thought I had given explicit instruction not to interrupt me during my work," said the scientist.
"It's Savage. He is here," said the assistant.
The scientist frowned. He set the surgical tools back on the tray and stripped off his gloves. Ah well. Another wasted test subject.
"Have the others harvest the subject," said the scientist.
He walked to his wheelchair, every step accompanied by a twinge of pain despite the supports that adorned his legs. The scientist could have created braces that were flawless, but he desired the discomfort. It was a reminder of his weakness. Of the need to rise above his faulty biology. Another assistant wheeled him out of the operating theater to a command chamber. A map of the world adorned the wall, marked with all of their ongoing operations. There was a view of the entire complex from these heights, its seclusion in the alpine heights. Vandal Savage stood with his back to the scientist, gazing out on the landscape below.
"An unannounced visit," said the scientist.
"Roosevelt won his election," said Savage.
"Disappointing. But expected."
"Disappointment appears to be no stranger when working with you," said Savage.
"Careful friend. I still have half a mind to dissect you and find out what's been keeping you alive all these years."
There was no secret to the distaste between the two men. The scientist found Savage to be brutish and crude. He was a walking reminder of man's distant past, a simplicity to be overcome. Savage could hardly stomach the scientist's frailty. The only thing that bound them was their common goal of domination. And an appreciation of their respective capacities for ruthlessness.
"Have you finished the latest designs for the new offensive?" said Savage.
"Yes. Your facilities won't run out of war machines to produce," said the scientist.
Most of Western Europe was theirs, save for Britain. The high command was already pivoting their attention to the matter of the Soviets. The only limit to their capabilities was the supply of the extraterrestrial metal that was crucial to so many of these constructions.
"We've recovered that defector. The American."
"Ah yes. The would-be time traveler," said the scientist.
"If nothing else, he is valuable for the intelligence on this Vanguard," said Savage.
"Have Colonel Klepper set him up with a laboratory. See what he can do," said the scientist.
"Then there is the matter of the woman. Von Gunther."
"You have qualms with her?"
"We have been unable to locate her. She comes and goes as she pleases. It troubles me," said Savage.
"The price of her assistance."
"The woman is playing us. I suspect she serves another agenda," said Savage.
"Likely. But, she is capable of feats that are beneficial to our ultimate purpose. To eliminate her would be foolish at this stage," said the scientist.
"This is how you view me as well," said Savage. It was not a question.
"There is no need for sentimentality my friend. One day when we stand on the ashes of our enemies you may have your chance to strike me down. Know that I look forward to the attempt," said the scientist.
Savage gave a toothy grin, the skin stretched taut over the scars that marked his jaw.
"I have had enough of your ilk. Till necessity demands our reunion," said Savage.
Savage left. An assistant whispered news to the scientist, the culmination of a project. He was brought to one of the inner chambers. A man floated in a nutrient solution. The pinnacle of Aryan evolution. Thus far. There was always another step toward perfection. The scientist watched as the man opened his blue eyes, his fists clenched. Colonel Klepper and the others in high command would approve of their Captain Nazi.
The Ultra-Humanite was sure of it.
November 8, 1940
"You're telling me that we almost handed the country over to a Nazi-patsy?" said Al.
"It's a possibility," said Wesley.
The JSA sat at their table. Wesley had finished explaining his investigation into Tex Thompson's candidacy. One that had reached its end with a defeat to Roosevelt. By a smaller margin than any one in the room was comfortable with.
"You're the only one that knew about this?" said Shiera.
"I did too," said Rex, with hesitation.
"As did I," said the Spectre. The entire room stared at their ghostly ally with concern and curiosity. The Spectre offered no more.
"Why didn't you tell us?" said Jay.
"The investigation never yielded concrete proof. The closest we got resulted in an ambush…"
"An ambush? And you still didn't think it was wise to let the rest of us know?" said Al. He was out of his chair, fist on the table.
Wesley gave a look to Alan, who shrugged. There was no easy way out. Alan stood up.
"Wesley and I have been in contact with Batman," said Alan. This drew another wave of bewilderment. Diana in particular was curious.
"We've uncovered evidence of a foreign-backed network of criminals working under an individual known as the Yellow Claw. They are responsible for smuggling in contraband that we suspect is to be used to attempt espionage, subversion and possibly an attack on American soil."
"I've fought this Yellow Claw before. Alongside Batman and Superman," said Diana.
"Not you too," said Al.
"Apologies Albert," said Diana.
"You still haven't told us why you kept this from us," said Shiera.
Wesley rubbed the back of his neck. He could feel the disappointment washing over him. Al was making the biggest show, but Shiera and Carter were the most angry.
"It was a judgment call. One that I endorsed." said Alan. "We didn't want to bring everyone in for what could have been nothing. It was a mistake."
"There's more to it than that, isn't there?" said Carter.
"What?" said Al.
"We thought that having everyone in the Society alerted to the organization would risk tipping them off," said Wesley.
"You didn't trust us," said Carter.
"This is what you promised me, I wouldn't have to deal with," said Shiera, addressing Carter.
"You thought we'd muck it up," said Al.
"Whoa, whoa. I don't like this anymore than you folks, but they're telling us now," said Jay.
"If they can keep a secret once, they can do it again," said Shiera.
"I'll resign from being chairman if that will ease your concerns," said Alan.
"Wait a minute," said Rex.
"Maybe he should," said Carter.
"That's not fair Carter," said Dinah.
Everyone started talking over one another.
"Friends!" said Diana. The table quieted.
"We can't go on like this. A group such as ours is built on trust. On the truth. Alan and Wesley have owned up to their error. It does not ease the sting of their distrust, but we can rebuild it. As a team."
The others contemplated Diana's statement. Al was the first one to talk as usual.
"Works for me. Though when we switch chairperson, Diana's got my vote."
"No secrets from now on," said Dinah.
"Agreed," said Alan.
"This still changes things," said Carter. "We know that the Germans are intent on attacking us."
"We don't know for certain its.." said Wesley.
"What more evidence do we need? Those valkyries that went after Roosevelt. Their leader. They've got Nazi written all over them," said Carter.
"Batman also believes it is the Nazis," said Diana.
"Exactly," said Shiera. "We can stop pretending that the war is far away."
"We can't join the fight," said Alan.
"We have to," said Shiera.
"There's heroes already there," said Al. "The, uh, Liberty...uh fighters."
"Freedom Fighters," corrected Dinah.
"Right. They're already busting Nazi heads left and right. I know you've seen the photos of the Ray above England. What's stopping us?" said Al.
"The war we might start for one," said Alan.
"So we wait for them to take the first shot?" said Carter.
Alan looked around the table for allies. Even Jay and Dinah were swaying toward the others.
"My mission extends beyond the bounds of America. Peace on a global scale. But, I understand that this is no simple matter. We can't predict what could happen," said Diana.
"Precisely," said Alan.
"Yet, there is shame in complacency while great evil prospers. These Nazis are against humanity with their motives. They trade only in hate," said Diana.
"We have to intervene," said Shiera.
"No," said Doctor Fate. It was the only word he had uttered at the meeting thus far.
"Excuse me?" said Carter.
"We cannot," said Doctor Fate.
"Care to elaborate Kent?" said Dinah.
"You speak truth about the Nazis and their allies. They are a blight. Yet, they have anticipated our involvement. There is a foul power that shrouds their actions. Were we to take the fight to them it would result in calamity."
"That's it?" said Al.
"A vague horror story," said Shiera.
"Even the helmet of Nabu has limits. I can see the danger if not the origin. They have traded with the most contemptible of sorcerers for protection," said Doctor Fate.
"So we just sit on our hands?" said Carter.
"No," said Alan. "We do what we've been doing. Protecting the country. The world. And now that we're on the same page, we can turn out attention to uprooting this conspiracy before it can strike."
November 20, 1940
Agent Faraday sat in a room with a general, an FBI agent and a member of the state department. Their plates were empty, their cups dry. The luncheon had remained strictly confined to small talk. General Mercer spoke of his latest thoroughbred, which he had high hopes for. Special Agent Kincaid discussed the pros and cons of moving to the southwest with Mrs. O'Neill. Faraday smiled and smoked and waited for them to cut the chatter and get to the meat. When at last their table was cleared, General Mercer began.
"We've got a right mess on our hands, folks," said the General.
He pulled out a series of envelopes, which he passed to each of them. Faraday had already seen much of the information, but he made a show of looking them over.
"This is confirmed?" said Mrs. O'Neill.
"Far as we can tell. Two sources on it."
"Major Lawrence… Is that the father of that woman that swam the Channel? Elizabeth Lawrence."
"One and the same," said General Mercer.
"This other one is from Captain Trevor. The one that discovered Wonder Woman," said Agent Kincaid.
"From how he tells it, she found him," said the general.
"This is…." said Mrs. O'Neill.
"Bad. Real bad," said General Mercer.
"The Nazis are making superhumans," said Agent Kincaid.
"Not to mention their weapons program," said the general. "The only good news, beyond the fact that we know about it, is that it's slow going. That's years of work you're seeing. All for only a handful."
"If those handful are as powerful as Superman or Wonder Woman it doesn't matter," said Mrs. O'Neill.
"None of them are so far. Not that we're going to wait around and see if they manage it," said the general. He nodded at Faraday.
"We've had extensive interviews with Ms. Lawrence about her experiences. After them and a series of physical and psychological tests, we've come to the conclusion that she is a profoundly suitable candidate for an American answer to this issue," said Faraday.
Kincaid and O'Neill stared at Faraday, then the general, for a few moments processing what he meant.
"You want to make your own," said Mrs. O'Neill.
"Indeed," said Faraday.
"How?"
"The notes taken from Major Lawrence's reports are… detailed. We lack the same capabilities, but Vanguard was able to produce a possible serum," said the general.
"And you want to use it on Elizabeth Lawrence. Why not a soldier?" said Agent Kincaid.
"We considered that. We feel that Lawrence represents a unique opportunity to deploy an operative capable of gaining access to certain organizations we have a vested interest in getting to know better," said the general.
"She more than qualifies for it mentally and physically. She survived for months in hostile territory. Without her we wouldn't have this information," said Agent Faraday.
"You're talking about the Justice Society," said Agent Kincaid.
"Correct," said the general.
"We've got a debut scenario planned out. Lawrence would build her reputation until such a time as she is asked to join the group," said Agent Faraday.
General Mercer leaned forward, his arms on the table.
"It's only a matter of time before we're in a shooting war. The president's fixing to help out the Allies. Whether it's them or us that throw the first punch, we need a counter to these superhumans. One that we can rely on," said General Mercer.
It was Faraday's turn to dump a number of files on the table. Pictures and profiles of various heroes.
"These are a number that have been identified as likely to work with the government," said Faraday.
"None of the JSA. No Superman. No Batman. No Wonder Woman," said Mrs. O'Neill.
"Hence the interest in gaining insight into the team. Superman's actions are commendable, but we can't be sure he would be able to maintain secrecy on the more...sensitive aspects of our work. He has demonstrated an indifference to the proper authorities in the past," said the general. "Also we wouldn't want to alienate Mr. Luthor. Lexcorp has been a great friend of the U.S. military thus far."
"Batman is a criminal," said Agent Kincaid. "He's broken into the FBI offices at least once."
"Wonder Woman, for all the support she's given us, is an envoy of a foreign power," said General Mercer.
"Let's see what we've got then," said Mrs. O'Neill.
"Blue Beetle. We're fairly certain he's Dan Garett, an archeologist with a specialty in North Africa and the Middle East. He worked with the U.S. Army before and has familiarity with regions of interest," said the general.
"Spy Smasher. Alan Armstrong. He approached us. It hasn't made the papers and it never will, but he busted up a covert ring in D.C. that would've given Congress conniptions if they knew about it. He's smart, effective and loyal," said Faraday.
"Plastic Man?"said Mrs. O'Neill. "You must be joking."
"Not at all, ma'am. He's already a deputized FBI agent. Hub City is a rough place to work, but Plastic Man's brought down a score of seasoned criminals for us. He can't keep a straight face, but he can work a case," said Agent Kincaid.
"We're glad you agree," said Faraday.
"Would Starman be on the table? I know he's new on the scene, but Agent Allen in Opal City has reported good things about the man," said Agent Kincaid.
"Too fresh. Not enough intelligence," said General Mercer.
"Phantom Lady… the one in Europe?" said Agent Kincaid.
"That's her," said Faraday.
"We've already had agents make contact with her and the Freedom Fighters. She's provided valuable intelligence on her activities behind enemy lines," said the general.
They sifted through the files, accepting and rejecting as they went. At last, only one remained.
"Mr. America," said Mrs. O'Neill.
"I say yes," said Agent Kincaid.
"What does he have to offer?" said Mrs. O'Neill.
"A strong track record against foreign subversives and a patriotic streak," said the general.
Faraday nodded. The others made up their minds.
"There we have it. America is in the business of recruiting superheroes," said General Mercer.
November 26, 1940
Professor Edward Clariss lay on the floor of the lab at Midwestern University, as he made an honest effort to hack up his own lungs. The coughs were so violent that his ribs shuddered at the force. His face was red, his eyes squinting from the tears. No one was around to help him. By design. After another ten agonizing minutes, Edward stood up, his forearm braced on the nearby counter. There was no change. The experiment was another failure. Edward marked down his notes on the latest results. Before this entry were half a dozen variations on the basic formula that created the heavy vapors.
The ingredients to make the Flash.
December 1, 1940
There was no name for this place, at least not in proper Russian. The locals called it "The Maw," in their own language and stayed far away, save for an offering grounds where they made a sacrifice twice a year to ward against the spirits that they said inhabited it. When the Soviet troops asked the locals if anyone had gone into it they said "No."
"Not even one person? In all these years?" said the soldiers.
"Anyone that goes in there is no longer a person."
That didn't stop the Soviet expeditionary research group. It arrived in the last days of 1939. They cleared away the snow and rocks and expanded the already considerable hole in the earth till it resembled a mining operation. The brought in heavy machinery and sensory equipment and more and more men, until they outnumbered the locals. The center of gravity in the region shifted to the Maw.
The scientists said it was a meteorite. Ancient, beyond the purview of mankind. Lodged deep below the earth, buried where it crashed. Until now. The drills broke on its shell. They brought in stronger tools. They broke too.
All the while the local villagers left. The stories told them what was to come from tampering with the Maw. The scientists barely noticed. The soldiers no longer had people to push around and steal from.
Their equipment detected a signal deep in the meteorite. What started as a drilling project turned into a listening post.
They expanded around the meteor. Tunnels that spoke to intelligent design were uncovered. Catacombs were exposed, packed with mummies. Too many to send all of them back to Moscow for study. The soldiers used them for target practice. Burned them in pyres to keep warm as the winter nights descended.
A scientist named Gavril Anoshkin claimed to understand the signal. Told his superiors that it was a font of power. The report was lunacy, but in America there was a man of steel and another that blazed an emerald trail wherever he flew. The Soviets could not fall behind.
A new drill was designed. One that could pierce to the core of the meteor, unlock its power. The soldiers reported hearing things in the night. A scientist wandered off into the dark wilderness, speaking of a fire on the horizon. A symbol occurred again and again, the eye in the flame.
There was a debate over who was fit to wield the power. The Soviet Union was a nation of the collective man. To bestow such a gift to a single person was a grave decision.
They settled on Vladmir Sokov. The son of a hero of the Great War. A veteran of the military action at Xinjiang and more recently a hero on the front of Poland and Finland. The "most dangerous man in Russia".
Sokov arrived at the Maw in early November. The drilling was nearly complete. The premonitions had grown dire. A squad of soldiers threw themselves on a pyre. A scientist set off a canister of mustard gas in his quarters, killing eight others. When they finally cleared the room, he was still alive, a symbol painted in blood on his forehead. Others continued to vanish into the night. The order was given to accelerate the process.
The drill reached the end. The research post ceased reporting back to Moscow.
When they arrived, only Sokov remained. He spoke of how Anoshkin's eyes burst into flames. How Anoshkin and the rest carved the symbol into the meteor. Threw themselves into the pit to be consumed by what lay within it. How Sokov fought them, slaying most of the madmen, till at last they overpowered him with sheer numbers. They brought him to the pit, the canal dug into the meteor.
With eyes of scarlet ruin, Anoshkin anointed Sokov and cast him into the fire that raged in the heart of the meteor. Only Sokov was not incinerated.
Sokov did not have to explain much of what became of Anoshkin and his followers to the soldiers that found him. The charred remains told the story. As did the red ring that now rested on Sokov's finger, the curls of red fire that coiled around his body. The Soviets cared little for their deaths. They had their superhero.
Sokov did not share that his senses were expanded. That he could feel across the gulf of the world that an opposing being lived. One that his power chased across the cosmos, to burn till not even ash remained.
The Crimson Flame had its avatar. The Red Lantern was reborn.
December 14, 1940
Wotan sat with his legs crossed, above the ground in the burial chamber. A weathered statue commanded the center of the room, a monument to lost gods and demons. Arranged at regular intervals throughout the space were twenty prisoners, graciously provided by his German partners, to serve as the key. They were not bound, but they offered no resistance. The human mind was a feeble thing.
It had taken a long time to unlock this place. He uttered the words of a language not spoken since before the first human beheld fire. The temple heard his prayer and answered. Purple tendrils snaked out from the statue and sank into the chests' of the sacrifices. Their bodies withered into dust. Wotan's incantations rose in fervor.
The chamber fell away. Wotan swam in a void. This was the true test. Emerging from nowhere and everywhere, a serpent as vast as the ocean slithered into view. Wotan fought the beast through the empty spaces, the slivers that divided reality. An arched finger slung forth a spell that could strike the very stars from the sky, lifetimes of study all directed at this eldritch protector. With its death, all the barriers vanished. The reason for all this effort hung in the air before him. He plucked it from its place.
A shard of crystal, purple, with facets of pure black. Light appeared to dance through it only to become trapped. It was one of several. Not the end of the journey, but merely the beginning. Only in its totality could its potential be realized.
There were several names for the one behind the crystal. Hamatu. Abaddon. Appolyon. Vinasaka. Metsu.
Eclipso.