Chapter 10: Mid-Nite Meets Malarkey
Flash fleetly finishes sanding the ice obstructing the city gate. The Crimson Comet can confront the Kriglo cur gatekeeping now, and that surly sort shakes Shade's cane in response. The brigand blurts that thick blackness will blind the Flash even if he crosses the now covered ice. The Spider-Man will then pounce. Flash pauses to pronounce that he can also obscure all optics. Want to see? Doing homage to Red Tornado, the Crimson Comet runs circularly in one spot, and he conjures a daunting dust devil. He casts it into his foe's flummoxed face. Buffeting, stinging sand blinds the baffled Spider-Man who blinks (eight?) irritated eyes and snorts out soil.
Then, surprisingly, Flash circumnavigates to the capital's wall and runs up and over it. He just dodges a dope, in the dust. Diana may need a second Societarian sooner than later.
High in the sky, Starman seeks to save Dr. Mid-Nite, Cousin Sandra, Icky, and himself from a drastic descent—that he caused. His wondrous Gravity Rod has reversed The Meteor's direction. A moment before, the compromised craft approached the unbreathable outer atmosphere and unchecked bodily expansion in space. The current perilous plummet tops that fate, but Starman strains superlatively in effort. The Meteor is massive and has much momentum, whether upward or down.
Endangered Phantom Lady lays an encouraging hand on Cousin Ted's shoulder. She assures her fellow Knight that he can right the ship's course. Phantom Lady would weld their wills if she could. The vessel shrilly whistles in a nerve-racking nosedive.
Suddenly, Starman—sweat upon brow—squalls with supreme and spectacular exertion. The imperiled spaceship slows. Shaking, as Starman also stridently shudders, the sizeable steel swings its aft downward and drops into a level position. Never relenting, the Astral Avenger manages to manipulate the marred Meteor more. He arrests the mammoth machinery in mid-air. Then, temples bulging, Ted "Starman" Knight takes the rocket gently toward Venusian earth.
"Aw s***!" a Lady looks out a window.
"What?" Dr. Mid-Nite attends woefully wounded Icky. Doc McNider needs no auxiliary drama.
Outside The Meteor, the Martian saucer has banked back to target Captain Midnight's craft. Apparently, the Kriglo pilot caught its return. The enemy ace was going to engage giant Spectre, but he now reckons that he ought to finish the wrecked rocket first.
Speaking of Spectre, the Spirit of Vengeance has a voracious, vicious surging sheet of esurient space spiders atop him to exterminate. Their fanged nibbles nettle him to no end. The edacious arachnids wish to eat and erode phantom flesh into nothingness. Thus, God's instrument grants their wish and sates their insane appetites. Aztar turns ethereal. Spectre "simply" turns to sulfur, the oldest pesticide known, and becomes a tall pillar of poison. The high miasma massacres the Martian children, and their contorted corpses patter to the ground like ghoulish rain.
Calmly, Spectre shrinks to his usual six-foot six. He stares into a spooked Spider-Man's eyes.
"You can come no closer, dreadful creature!" the disquieted Kriglo claims, "I have Brainiac's force field shielding me. Not even a Kryptonian can get through! So just go away!"
The Spectre speaks, "I shall not depart before you're dead, though that be quite soon."
A shaky shrink gun rises. A skittish spider-scamp shouts, "I'll send you to oblivion!"
The Spirit of Vengeance shakes his head slowly, "Superman sometimes gets shrunk by Brainiac's gun. And, do you know what happens?"
"Just . . . go away!" the unsettled raider repeats.
Wrath's avatar informs, "Small Superman discovers that Brainiac's bulwark has no bottom. A miniaturized 'good guy' can simply slip in and beat the hell out of a bad being."
The Kriglo casts his weapon aside. Defiantly, the desperate-eyed drudge puts up his dukes. But, Spectre takes no step forward.
"Your citadel is built on but sand," speaks the Spectre. The Spirit of Vengeance swipes his hand.
All at once, a cyclonic storm erupts within the force shield like an entire haboob in a bell jar. A pest's pleas peal. The terrible tumult unmercifully strips skin, shreds meat, stifles shrieks, suffocates breath, severs assorted limbs, splits anatomy, splays a carnal center, sprays gore (that sticks to shield sides), and swishes desolidifying segments about until the ground fissures and swallows the suffering Spider-Man, still slightly alive, and slams him all the way to Venus' molten core.
"Such is the fate of sinners," states the Spectre. He sighs and swivels toward the besieged capital city.
In the city square, Jay jauntily joins Diana. The daring damsel does battle with a decked-out dastardly duo. Flash sees one with the Thinker's cap crunched to his considerable cantaloupe, cactus spines sorely in his face, and the Gambler's six-gun in his hand. Flash sees the other waving around a Wizard wand while Harlequin's glasses sit on his forehead. The sizable Spider-Man does not wear the glasses; they are too small for such a big brow (but not a high one). Between brutes, Wonder Woman darts and dodges while decking with her forceful fists. She seems okay for a second, so Flash sees to another scene near the first one.
The speedster sees poor bedraggled Desira drooped in giant gossamer, and he similarly spies her retinue peculiarly pinioned around her. They wear golden restraint belts with parallel pinching cuffs. Their ankles are shackled, and their fairy wings are actually pinioned with vines. Flash decides to liberate the women quick ("women's liberation" is a term first from 1966, but the Fastest Man Alive is ahead of his time, no doubt). Freed gals can join the fight.
Flash tries. Jay attempts jarring the shining belts loose—via vibration and various violence. However, verily, the solid restraints won't release. Unbeknownst to Garrick, the Venus Girdles—the belts—do not break even by an Amazon's efforts. Diana has tried on various occasions when visiting Venus, but the goddess Aphrodite herself made the appliances. Thus, Flash can free only fair feet and whimsical wings—for what such may be worth.
From the ether, a telepathic voice teases, "Even the Fastest Man Alive cannot unfasten those fetters. To free those female fairies, he would need the key, which I have, and he doesn't."
Under his helmet, Flash figures that the Kriglo under the Thinking Cap "said" that. Hastily, he charges.
However, made clever by the cap, the keen Kriglo calculates the Crimson Comet's current position perfectly—when he ferociously clotheslines Flash flat. The speedster savior seems unconscious.
To the side, Wonder Woman faces a pseudo-Wizard. A spell sends sizzling, sparkling stars at her, to blind and burn a bellicose beauty. But, Diana dexterously dances wide on strong legs and belligerently leaps back to attack. Abruptly, the wand-waver conjures a quartz crystal barrier, and he phalangeally displays disrespect from behind it. Red boots brusquely break the rock bulwark, and they make for the cocky Kriglo. But, the big, burly Martian manages a lucky bop. Wonder Woman bounces backward onto her butt but immediately bounds to her feet. The powered princess prepares to punch. However, a hex magnetizes her bracelets and bangs them abruptly together. The Spider-Man slugs her instead; then, he slaps her hard. The hex does not hold the magical cuffs long at all. Immediately, Diana retaliates with a wrathful wrist twist which brings the big bully to face-level. Her left cross virtually jars free his fangs—and jaw. Jolted, the spider-goon drops the Glastonbury stick.
Suddenly, a gun discharges dual lead. Super-swiftly, Themysciran steel deflects both bullets. A wondrous uppercut knocks the reeling Wizard "weevil" onto his back, eight-limbs-up. Wonder Woman cartwheels and craftily snatches the enchanted wand from the earth. Two more shots fire but also go astray.
"Do you want to see a magic trick?" asks the intense Amazon.
Wonder Woman whips the wand exactly into the Gambler's gun barrel. Buggy brows become beetled, impressed.
A hundred acres away, The Meteor gently alights on the plain. It meets the steppe softly for Starman's stupendous efforts. Noble Knight sucks wind and seemingly sweats scarlet. Though impolite, Ted spits on the ship's floor and snorts several times.
"A successful save. Smashing," states his complimenting cousin Sandra Knight. A strong and sympathetic gal, she supports her kin before he can keel over.
Starman stammers that he is satisfactory and stubbornly stands straight. His handy rod points to the cockpit, and he indicates "help him", meaning Ichabod Mudd. Phantom Lady flits to attending physician Dr. Mid-Nite. His goggles glance sideways, but Charles does not consider colleague Lady to be Myra Mason, his reliable RN. Rather, she is an able "arse"-kicker from the All-Star Squadron.
So, Dr. Mid-Nite says, "Say, sweetheart, I have this task. I can patch our half-poached pilot. You—and Starman if he is able—should aid Spectre and the others. That alien army appears rather rambunctious out there."
"Agreed," huffs the Astral Avenger, "They could use extra heroes. For one thing, a certain flying saucer still flies the sky after assailing us."
Surprisingly, maybe shockingly, Starman streaks out the open ship aft and resiliently soars, sneering skyward, to meet the saucer's sortie. He sees it approaching and speeds straight ahead at his and its twelve.
"Join us when you can, won't you?" Phantom Lady lopes for an exit. Dr. Mid-Nite dutifully and daringly will do, after more morphine and dressings for Mudd.
Outside, a ways in the distance, Spectre strolls to the city gate and the Spider-Man sitting there. Ice and sand slowly make mud about the Martian, who mopes momentarily after Flash fooled him so. Kriglo comrades could use a combat assist, and one even telepathically calls for one. What if Wonder Woman faced—all at once—Thinker's cap, Wizard's wand, Gambler's six-shooter, Shade's cane, Harlequin's illusion-casting spectacles, and Icicle's gun. That could be cool. However, this particular giant pest just pouts presently. After many Venusians perished posthaste today via Martian means, it is peeving and perplexing to not have similarly slain Flash.
Although eidolic, Spectre clears his throat like Jim Corrigan. The crude sound catches the arachnid's attention. The startled Spider-Man stares into searing eyes as if into Hell's abyss. A sulfuric smell, like brimstone, wafts on the bitter, brumal breeze between the boogey and his bounty. And then, alabaster arms uplift beside an ashen body as though a judas priest would pass fateful judgement. Apparently pitilessly.
The Martian jerks Icicle's gun level with Spectre and jabs Shade's stick in the air, in impotent warning, as though announcing "I shall freeze you to the marrow and cast you into darkness". However, the incensed angel only waves his right hand, and Shade's cane disappears into utter obscurity. He lithely waves his left, and Icicle's armament melts. As in, molten steel slides down a Spider-Man's extremity and removes it!
"Stand aside now, and I shall not end you," says Spectre to the screaming, shuttering sentry surveying his smoking stump. Magnificent is his mercy—in his mind.
The mauled Martian staggers six legs, and one upraised arm, across the sloppy soil before the Ghostly Guardian. Soot sprinkles off the scorched flesh. Spectre just stands stony still and stoically awaits his disarmed adversary's surrender. Or, perhaps, the varlet will spit impudent venom, literal or verbal, and need be punished further.
Swooning, the suffering soldier stops a stint and seethes. Spectre signals to stoop low and supplicate for leniency, lest he become short-tempered. The Kriglo's kowtow will meet quasi-compassion. Psychically, via ESP, the Spirit of Vengeance instructs the same. His heavy voice resonates within a wretch's head.
Suddenly, that same sizable spidery head explodes and splats Spectre like excrement.
"I did not do that. Who did?" says Spectre (now solo) to himself.
"I did," says a voice inside Vengeance's own skull.
Spectre scowls. He suspects that an awful annelid arrives on-scene. Venus has such creeps too. He can neither see nor psychically sense where though. "Shucks." As Corrigan would comment.
Concurrent to this crisis, Starman mitigates a migraine and fatigue to confront a divebombing flying fortress. Ted Knight is man enough and mad enough to do so. The broad destroyer dips near Starman bobbing before it. A fantastic Gravity Rod fixes on its target, and its terrific power penetrates the hulk's prow plating. The Celestial Avenger's scepter seeks an energy signature, finds it, and syncs. In a centisecond, Starman detonates the self-destruct device that Ted secreted in the saucer's storage. It does delectable demolition. It certainly destroys and scatters the saucer well. No Spider-Man of Mars possibly survives.
The big blast slams Starman aback. He smiles and succumbs to momentary utter exhaustion. The great Gravity Rod leaves his limp grip. His flaccid form falls spiraling from the sky. Seemingly, the Knight has sacrificed himself and shall soon return to the heavens.
Then, a shaft of light lances the clouds above, surrounds Starman, stops his tumble, and shuttles him up like a tractor beam. It is a tractor beam. The plummeting Gravity Rod shoots into the surface soil below. Some "savior" does not want a Knight to have his mighty sword.
Meanwhile, clever as Mercury, Jay Garrick opens an eye and assesses his situation. He took a punch, true. But, he has been playing possum a moment so as to strategize surprise retaliation. By side vision, he sees Wonder Woman both scrapping well and struggling thoroughly with the Thinker Martian and the silly, but hostile, Spider-Man wearing Harlequin's gaudy glasses on his brow. The arachnid ogre just cannot pull them down to a proper fit.
Expeditiously, Flash figures that he can confront the "wizard" wearing the ill-fitting accessory. The other Kriglo clobbered the Crimson Comet. Wonder Woman may have better luck against the Gambler-Thinker. Flipping to his feet, Flash first flies toward the fairy girls fidgeting in their girdles, and he fetches the vine-ropes that recently wrapped them. Gathered into a coil right quick, the bonds then bolt, in a blur, for a big, bullying Spider-Man. Flash fastens six legs randomly together in no time. The knotted ninny pitches prone, stubbing his neck. Raising his scraped nose, the Spider-Man stares daggers at smirking Flash standing before him.
The good guy's mien goes suddenly grim. "I am really sick of you Spider-Men from Mars," the Crimson Comet claims, "You are murderers and pests! I ought to push those goofy glasses through your skull!"
Red boots rev, and Flash's fist rises. He charges. The "fated" screeches and flinches. Flash strikes. Frames and lenses shatter seventy ways to Sunday. However, the Kriglo creep is unhurt. He exhales heartily, suppressing hysterics or hyperventilation.
The hero hee-hee-hee-haw-haw-haws. Grinning Garrick gibes, "Golly, I would hit a guy with glasses."
"I see," says the wide-eyed spider.
"Do you acquiesce?" inquires the speedster.
"Yes," answers the unnerved arachnid.
Over yon, Wonder Woman withstands a series of psychic bolts and readily retaliates. She rushes and rams the rowdy, for she would wrestle him like a good, godly Greek. First, she grabs his girthsome middle with marvelous muscle, and tetchy telekinesis cannot tear her away. Then, Wonder Woman whirls her foe and herself in a whipping ring. The wanton rotation rattles the Kriglo's exoskeleton, wobbles his guts, and warps his brain. The Thinking Cap rides up, unwraps scalp, and whizzes wide away for who knows where.
Wryly smiling, Wonder Woman releases a wretch with a wink. The rotund reprobate rolls and bounces brutally across the capital's cobblestones. Wonder Woman races after—Golden Lasso gyring. Sharply, she ropes him and wrenches him rearward. Both the jerk and jump wreak havoc on the Martian. He has had enough and expresses such, to tell the truth, lying in the lasso.
Diana lets him submit. The strong lady lugs him to Flash's fellow prisoner. She plunks him beside his bound buddy. Wonder Woman goes to pluck Desira from the giant web, and Flash informs her that she should take a key, from the first Kriglo, with her. The heroine jogs hither.
Flash's recent foe remarks, "Say, you should know something, Speedy."
"Oh? What's that?" responds Jay.
"That I would run if I were you," replies the roped raider, "You see, more Martians are on the way."
"Soon?" supposes Flash.
"Real soon," states the tied Spider-Man, "They radioed my earpiece just now. My reinforcements—and your doom—are up in the ionosphere. They have already captured Starman. To be clear."
Mercury stays stoically cheerful, "You have an ear radio, eh? That is interesting innovation. We Earthlings still use headphones." Garrick guesses that he shall want to interrogate the saucy soldier's army associates, especially engineers, once they get to the ground.
Five furlongs from defiant Flash, Spectre stands gritting his teeth outside the city gate. Beside him, Phantom Lady looks on disbelieving. How does anyone arrest the semi-omnipotent Spectre so? The supreme powerhouse poses paralyzed in place, staring into space, slack of face, rigid at the waist, chasing no hostiles, and gracing some bloody cerebral gore. Phantom Lady ponders "what the hell is happening?".
"I am happening," a sinister susurration slithers through Sandra's thoughts. Someone speaks telepathically.
The dame detective turns right and left, but she cannot detect the diabolical dastard holding Spectre and her in suspense. Her aural sense ekes out no invisible attacker, about to ambush, either. And, her oral sense tastes only the tension on the wind, not the worm stealthily toying with her. Mr. Mind remains beneath her olfactory ability too. In fact, he simply skulks slyly atop her shoe, where she doesn't even feel him.
There, Mr. Mind continues to concentrate laboriously, for he is in an unholy psychic stand-off with supremely puissant Spectre. The worm has hooked a big fish, and the tiny terror—of titanic tack—is determined to triumph.
Also, evil Mr. Mind's eyes are looking up Phantom Lady's skirt like a complete loser. (And now readers' imaginative eyes are too).
Meanwhile, from The Meteor,Dr. Mid-Nite makes for Phantom Lady. He motors on a dashing dirt bike, which Captain Midnight conveniently keeps aboard. Inside the ship, Icky Mudd will have to maintain with a morphine drip and other medical means lately administered.
Out on the range, the motorbike roars, and Charles revels in the ride. When the land rises high, so does he in a harrowing hop. His hand cranks the throttle hard to hurtle the iron horse ahead at a crazy accelerating speed. Especially a physician appreciates the unchecked hazard that the ride offers, for surgeon McNider has often rebuilt wreck victims after two-wheelers wreck them. Thus, his inner—and outer—swashbuckler savors the buried speedometer sending him into shrieking headwind and sure hullabaloo as his cape dashingly spreads and snaps in a swell of spit sand with sizable, spidery space invaders hostilely occupying an Oz-like city stationed on the approaching horizon. A Justice Society member lives for these moments when dream machines and duty carry one toward a good fight. Gangsters, stormtroopers, supervillains, or space aliens are all good to go get.
Doc guns the bike to leap again. Eyes gape behind gritty goggles. Suddenly, at Mid-Nite's twelve, the sky has a couple dozen circled saucers spinning suspended in it. Curiously, a few sway and sputter as if in disrepair, and a couple smoke as though they have sprung radiators. Their "steam" streams into Venus' thick clouds. But, at any rate, they are more Martian ships arrived to wreak mayhem.
Dr. Mid-Nite stops his cycle (it skids a decent segment) and scratches his chin. What now?
Up ahead, Phantom Lady looks over the looming flotilla. Her heart lurches behind her locked lungs. She spots an unconscious Starman swinging by a thread from a saucer! A Kriglo has him cocooned and hanging from the hull. How can a Lady save her cousin? How can a Phantom save a Spectre? And, does a Phantom Lady have a ghost of a chance against all-around adversity?
Past a certain nonplussed heroine, Wonder Woman, Queen Desira, fairy fighters, and Flash seriously consider the new vertical view too. Quickly, Diana and Desira conference confidentially via mind-link. They concur on something.
The Amazon Athena clicks her tongue, "I suppose that we could try. . . . ."