Chapter 16: Chowderheads Meet Choice Chaps
"Riddle me this. . . . ." utters Edward initially.
"Oh, shut up!" hollers Harvey tersely, "We don't have time for a two-bit riddle!"
Riddler beetles a brow, "Don't be so cross, kid. I, of course, comprehend our current chronological constraints. I simply use a common turn of phrase. 'Riddle me this' is an introductory construct that has come from comic books into colloquial conversation to introduce a question. Believe me, I would not needlessly bloviate before our bunch's big job striking Starman's sanctum."
Two-Face beetles both brows "What?!"
Riddler rolls his affected eyes, "Oh fine, I was but asking a simple question in a chic way, you ass. The question is this. How do we five plan to succeed in sieging Starman's base? I bet that it has stellar defenses."
Miasmic Mist mashes himself between the tetchy two "Peace be with you, pals, and fear not. I often invade my arch-enemy's lair, and we all are about to easily again."
"Well, okay," Nygma frets, "But, for our sake, let us hope that Starman is still missing. The Astral Avenger could harry the whole bunch of us by himself. I bet."
Two-Face snipes, "Stupid, you left a clue. Like you always do. For you know who. The JSA. Sooo, why worry strictly about Starman? You virtually summoned his brothers-in-arms."
Riddler sniffs, "I am not stupid. You're stupid—twice over. I simply believe in fair play with my inferiors—which is everybody."
"Mr. Terrific believes in fair play too!" touts Two-Face, "He is exactly the whiz who might suss out your riddle."
"Actually," Mist interrupts, "Several JSAers could crack a conundrum. 'Mystery men' solve mysteries all of the time. Batman is the World's Greatest Detective, and he could have deciphered the riddle as well. Doc Mid-Nite is no slouch of a sleuth either."
"We are the villains of Batman forever," states Two-Face of Riddler and him, "He doesn't scare me. However, I am cautious of certain super friends who he can summon. Our gleeful group is basically gangsters gunning above their grade, and Spectre or Superman could give us nightmares."
"I would look forward to such contest," comments Sportsmaster calmly from the station wagon's front.
Mist shrugs phantom shoulders, "No one need worry about any heroic heavyweights. Spectre, Wonder Woman, and Flash are all missing like Mr. Starman."
"How do you know?" Edward inquires apprehensively.
Mist materializes a hand to scratch his chin, "I don't know how I know. I just do. A little voice—hidden in my head—told me."
Riddler goes rigid for a jiffy. Then, he replies, "Yeah, it just told me the same thing."
Restless Tigress rips auto upholstery with razored gloves. She is cattily keen on commencing activity, "Boys! We should raid the place before bystanders notice five supervillains in a woody. It wouldn't do if Opal City police picked us up for menacing and loitering."
Evenly, Mist mentions that it is night around Knight's abode. Dark deeds will duly have the cover of darkness. Plus, Fattata Plaza, where they are, is a commercial district. On a Saturday eve, its jewelry and department stores are closed, and only its gin joints are open. The five thieves need only figure-out how to clandestinely cross Saarinen Way to Knight Observatory.
"And, I have already ascertained how to hugger-mugger do that," Mist announces.
"Yeah, I know. I helped you alter our auto," answers Sportsmaster, who isn't terrible at tinkering.
The ethereal freak pops a hatch in the car floor. Under the auto, a storm sewer grate sits centered with the station wagon. Sportsmaster does a proper powerlift and pulls the ponderous iron while his paramour Paula Brooks applauds impressed. The bandits plop into the wet slop below, and bad guys scurry past dirty rats. Knight Observatory is tucked in Opal City's Rainbow Gardens across the way.
Under Ted Knight's driveway, the felons find a manhole cover. And, Sportsmaster again positions himself like a he-man and places his pointers in the "pick holes" for removing the iron plate. Hammily, he huffs and puffs in preparation as Paula purrs anticipation.
Off to the side, Mist proposes that Lawrence "Crusher" Crock need not strain himself so, for there is a secret. . . . .
With a showy shout, Sportsmaster shoves the seventeen-stone slab straight up, and his strong legs lunge lithely up the ladder rungs to the surface.
Then, Green Lantern just lets him have it. A huge lime-hued hammer directly hits the manhole cover like a nail head. And, the whack drives startled Sportsmaster straight down. The cast iron circle conks Crusher's head, compacts his neck something fierce, and crunches his fingers in the curtly closed opening. He crashes to the sewer filth cursing.
"Was that Green Lantern?" Riddler queries, "He flew by fast."
"Yeah, it was," Tigress has sharp eyes. Surly Paula primes to pummel, pare, and perforate her beau's old adversary (see All-American Comics #85 & 98) as soon as possible.
Mist clears his throat, though he has neither mucus nor trachea (really). "As I was saying," says he, "Starman's estate has a secret door twixt its boundary and cellars. We should use it."
"Starman is smart. Apparently, the Astral Avenger appreciates that, sometimes, you soar in high and, sometimes, you slip in low," commends Two-Face, "I admire such dual strategy."
"I do too," declares a voice from the darkness.
Instantly, Dent draws a pair of pistols, and Brooks ambidextrously issues two crossbow bolts. Heedlessly, Hawkman hurtles unhurt between the arrows. And, he shrieks sonorously for effect. Outstretched wings whisk the righteous raptor upon the evil-doers. One wing whomps Tigress—and rising Sportsmaster—aside. The other bisects incorporeal Mist into two temporary purls. Then, the winged warrior snatches Two-Face by each wrist and wrenches the wretch's arms wide. Wild shots ricochet around Riddler—who hit the deck after detecting danger—as Hawkman hauls Harvey away. Hero and heavy disappear down the tunnel.
"Damn!" Miss Brooks is a dame with a mouth, uncouth in this era.
"Come on!" reconnected Kyle—the Mist—commands. He has the hidden access open. By luck, it had no active booby traps.
Tigress' bosom heaves a hardy sigh. She crouches beside her aswoon Crusher, "Be right back. Sit this one out. Hold the fort."
The villainess, vapors, and verse virtuoso streak through Starman's subterranean vestibule and pound along a passage into pitch blackness. One supposes that incandescent bulbs or a Cosmic Rod normally would light the way into Knight's lair. However, there is only dense darkness behind and ahead of the hurrying heels. Pell-mell, the trio lope into a larger room; they can ascertain the increased spatial volume by their steps' altered echo.
"Stop," says Mist. Riddler and Tigress halt.
"We can still steal Starman's stuff," espouses Mist, "We need only find the door upstairs to Knight's residence and then the stairs up to his observatory. Our objective is up there."
"Sounds like a plan," pipes a voice from the darkness.
"Who's there?" Riddler wonders warily.
"The Master of Darkness," answers a mystery man ominously.
Elsewhere, outside the cellar, Sportsmaster lies respiring atop rancid sewer slime. He thinks that he just needs to catch his breath and check for fractured fingers. Then, he can catch-up to the others and help them tackle the JSA here.
However, Green Lantern catches "killer" Crusher before the criminal gets any chance. The manhole cover moves magically aside. A huge hook and line snag reeling Sportsmaster and yank the jerk skyward. A giant green fishing pole casts Crock for the Rainbow park's tree tops. Green Lantern thinks that the height and hurt ought to hold Sportsmaster until the superhero can get back. Currently, he can catch-up to the others and help them handle Jennings' gang.
The Emerald Crusader descends to the opened secret door and moseys toward Dr. Mid-Nite.
"Dr. Mid-Nite, I presume," Paula "Tigress" Brooks kens the "Master of Darkness" moniker.
"Why presume? Can't you see me?" razzes the skulker with a raspberry.
"A tigress can see in the dark," teases Tigress, who is bluffing.
"Can you see me at your twelve?" taunts the superhero somewhere in front of her.
The feline fatale fires a bolt but before her. However, Doc tricked her. Mid-Nite is not at twelve. The dart dings a basement furnace. The huntress hisses at the miss.
"Well, can you discern a black costume sneaking-up on you through the ebon?" asks Mid-Nite.
In the inky obscurity, Wildcat almost huffs "hey!", for fighting his arch-enemy is habitually hard enough as is without spoiling a surprise attack. However, Ted Grant decides to have a sense of humor about Doc's jocularity and Tigress' jejuneness.
Suddenly, a great green light bedazzles the basement. The blazing, broad beam blinds the three villains—but not the intrepid treble heroes who expected it. Green Lantern glides—in grand entrance—forth. Whooping Wildcat wallops Tigress on her right.
Dr. Mid-Nite raises a round weapon in his glove and warns, "Surrender now, Mist. Or, face the consequences." The object appears to be a blackout bomb.
Mist sniffs ephemerally, for he cannot imagine how Doc's device and fisticuffs could capture him. The ghostly goon need only advance, accept the innocuous physical attacks, and then buffet Mid-Nite as Mist sometimes does Black Canary, another consistent foe beside Starman.
Dr. Mid-Nite does not seem to be a decoy either. Green Lantern—whose magic could affect Mist—makes no move on the miasmic menace. Rather, the chartreuse Sentinel stifles his ring's radiance and sends forth a swarm of small hands. They hit the cellar's button light switches, common to this tale's time. Now, Wildcat and Green Lantern can see normally.
Alan sees Riddler's incoming fist punch him. But, the wimpy haymaker raps like a rose relative to most super-mugs' mallets. Thus, annoyed Scott simply stares and smirks.
"Say, sap, riddle me this," Green Lantern goes, "If you strike me from a tale of yore, you have only 'yo'. If you tamp me from one tour, you have only two. Who's about to get hit?"
"Pshaw, u-r."
"Exactly," Green Lantern raises his glowing fist.
Close-by, Wildcat clocks Tigress another one, and her claws come out. Razor-tipped gloves rise and writhe around. Ted cartwheels backward and catches two cellar objects. The queen-cat charges the champion rancorously. Her right razors rive a coal shovel handle; her left claws clang a poker. Fighting like a girl, Tigress kicks high, dislodging the poker. Paying her back brutishly, Wildcat ducks to deliver a duke to the puss right in the kisser. The kitty cringes and cants about. The king-cat hoists her and body-slams her into other basement junk. Some sensitive gear (of Dr. Ted Knight) gets smashed. The wicked wench rises. Unrestrained, Wildcat takes a tall telescope tripod and swings like Ted Williams. Tigress blocks the bludgeon—expertly not breaking her arm. She swiftly throws a musty, dusty star-map in Ted's face and then bops him with a big atlas, breaking its aged spine. Spinning, Grant spanks her hard across the rump. Spitting, spited Paula puts her hand to her ham. Ted Grant slugs her open side.
Surveying the skirmish, a spectral scallywag severely sighs. Somehow, supervillain Kyle must circumvent Dr. Mid-Nite, complete this caper, and salvage his compatriots-in-crime in the cellar, in the sewer, and (possibly) over Opal City. Mist cogitates quickly; then, he acts quickly. With all haste, he veers vortically around Dr. Mid-Nite with all velocity. He keeps an attentive eye on Green Lantern's light, although any emerald illumination remains fixed on Edward.
Moving precipitously past Paula, Mist barks, "Tigress, fight the three of them!"
A truculent trepidation (as at betrayal) passes over Brooks' expression, although an ardent tigrine determination accompanies it. The curious kitty quickly contemplates whether she can kill or cripple three JSAers consecutively and gain cache amongst super-criminals for all time.
Tempestuously, Mist lifts up back over Dr. Mid-Nite and loop-de-loops past the cellar ceiling. Descending sharply, the execrable cloud snatches Riddler from Lantern's clutches. And, an E. Nygma and spectral sentient smoke take off like a banshee up some stairs and into the main T. Knight residence tonight.
Dr. Mid-Nite pockets his petard and sprints after them.
In the house, careening Kyle chucks Riddler on the parlor sofa to provide a safe, soft landing. The couch tips over anyway and tosses Riddler roughly onto tile. Ever determined, the dizzy dean of double talk stands tall for dignity's sake.
Immediately, Hourman (from behind an upright clock) tackles Riddler back down and goes to work.
Mist makes sympathetic eyes at abused Edward. But, he still beelines for the observatory where the burglary's booty lies. Kyle need be a Mist on a mission. He believes that, and the voice murmuring in his mind does too. Prof. Jennings and his outlaws must have the a-bomb! Then, they will gloriously obliterate Gotham! Or, Keystone City. Mist guesses that Jennings targets Keystone City (although the voice whispered Gotham just now).
Dr. Mid-Nite sprints past Hourman pounding Riddler and chases after evasive Mist.
Rex calls, "Wouldn't Alan be the better option against an incorporeal adversarial apparition? He could envelop him in an egg or something."
"You would think," wryly replies Charles. But, the evening-angled avenger has an ace up his sleeve.
Eight furlongs away, Hawkman flies petulant Two-Face thirty feet above Opal City's Pyle Avenue. Heated Harvey has emptied his guns, and Hawkman really has a grip, on Dent's wrists, like a damn animal. So, straining, the dangling palooka swings his pants legs upward sharply. Strong limbs lock on sturdy lats and squeeze stringently. A savage scissor-lock cinches upon skin, stomach, and skeleton.
However, seemingly, stolid Hawkman is simply stoic. He swerves starboard and skims along the third level of the city's main library. Opal City's bibliotheca stands seven-stories-high and offers an array of glass windows and stone arches to either smash Two-Face through or scrape him along, each option skinning him and scarring him further than he is. Straightaway, Hawkman spots where he could detach Two-Face and deposit him into the book depository.
However, the crash, the wingding, would disturb the library. And, may every American city forever have a public library so proud. Hawkman spots a better option across Second Street. The Sloane Building stands grand against the skyline. Tycoon Terry Sloane can absorb some super-battle cost better than the average Turk County taxpayer. And, Mr. Terrific, Mr. Terrance Sloane, refused to accompany JSA allies to Opal City. During battle plans, he predicted that five bad guys would appear, and he believed that six on five would be "unfair play". So, perhaps a bit peeved, at unnecessary paucity of personnel, Hawkman, rightly or wrongly, has scant problem plowing an opponent into Sloane property. Perhaps, Mr. Terrific fairly plays his part in the end.
The Nighthawk divebombs the Sloane Building. Into an office suite, thick glass and wooden frame grandly give as gliding Hall—on top—guides Dent—on bottom—to carpet that grinds and rugburns a gruesome gangster. Two-Face growls gutterally. Hawkman tightens the thug's tie like a garotte and stands both men erect. Like Nth metal, knuckles knock Harvey's head back. Hawkman lets go, bobs low, and scoops the hood high. With all effort, the superhero slings the crook through the Sloane suite. Dent hits a desk, clips file cabinets, and spills against a water cooler.
Squalling, Two-Face scampers to his feet, face half-sanguine. Seemingly, he has a wrathful second wind after getting skidded, slugged, and slammed. Sans guns, snarling Two-Face pulls a switchblade and, as fits his face, sneers. A champion's crimson and gold boots stomp over. A massive mace smacks the swine-sticker aside. The bludgeon arches in a blur before Two-Face's eyes, and it smites him cold unconscious.
The good guy binds the bad guy, hands behind his back and ankles hitched, with two bolos, as Harvey would have it. Then, Hawkman bounds out of the opened Sloane Building with crumb's collar clasped in Carter's close, capable clutch. His course heads back toward the Knight Observatory and his JSA allies.
Through gaudy, grape-bodied binoculars, gleeful and giddy eyes observe incoming Hawkman. And, a sinister spy looks amused.
A span away and slightly below the city surface, Wildcat and Tigress yet brawl in Ted Knight's basement, Starman's storage area. She slashes a sleeve, and scarlet speckles a white lab coat. He slaps her one and spit spatters a dun dust cover. Then, Ted "taps" her in the nose. Gnashing teeth, Tigress takes a taxidermized cod and clobbers 'Cat. Grant grabs a Gilded Age agate heirloom and gashes Brooks between the eyes—before a large lab beaker breaks over her onion. Adeptly, Tigress flips backward by handstand. Espied, a stowed bottle of bourbon goes flying at Wildcat. He whips a Colonial Age tomahawk in return. A beryl beam blocks the bottle, for Alan (over there) is a guardian. As the ax approaches, agile reaction evades, and the Kiowa artifact busts on cellar bricks. Ambitiously, tiger-tiger burning bright, with adrenaline and bile, hooks and hefts a cinder block to toss. But, bordering GL blasts it to bric-a-brac. Wildcat charges in with a chesterfield chair and chops the hefty object upon Tigress. The tabby tastes filthy basement floor. Theoretically, the striped tawny sees tweedy-birds, so the tom tips the armchair topper away. Sharp teeth trap Ted's toe, and he hollers to let him go (but doesn't caterwaul) while tugging Paula's tresses. Then, razor tips threaten a warrior's Achilles tendon. But, he tromps her head hard, and she trembles (apparently) stunned.
Suddenly, Tigress tumbles away again.
"Time to retreat," Tigress turns tail for the steps upstairs. She upturns a barrel and bowls it at Wildcat, who hops over it.
However, truthfully, treachery is a femme fatale "tease's" trope. Thus, Tigress is not really retreating. Rather, Paula Brooks actually plans to deploy the dynamite tucked in her boot. And, like any "trollop" of the time, Brooks smokes and, thus, has a light! Dexterously, she both dislodges the stick and strikes a match before Wildcat bounds to her.
Ted Grant's eyes go wide descrying the lit wick, and he rapidly returns to Ted Knight's clutter. The wicked woman raises the sizzling, parlous stick and prepares to pitch it like Sportsmaster. Wildcat and Green Lantern could perish. A poised ring prepares to bat the explosive baton with a green beam into a cobwebbed corner containing a steamer trunk to contain the concussion (of course, GL could simply contain the explosion with occult energy, but he lives in a 1940s comic). But, before Alan acts, Ted lobs an old washtub, and it lands over Tigress. In reality, the contained detonation won't really be like unto Wiley E. Coyote in a Looney Tune, for the explosion will blast beyond just one troublemaking bozo. But, Paula abruptly panics anyway, and her clawed digit cuts the fuse at the last second and centimeter.
Smirking, Alan Scott shakes his head, "Say, Wildcat, have you got this? Sportsmaster sits in a spruce top outside. I want to grab the goon before he gets away."
"Go ahead," Grant grants permission. Twitching fingers signal battered Tigress to come ahead, which she does.
Diagonally upward three stories, Dr. Mid-Nite and Mist meet in the Knight abode's observatory. Eerie moonlight enters via the dome's ajar shutter and scintillates over the telescope lens. The phantom fiend flits through it, although no fear chills observing Charles. Mist circles the dome interior and ogles his opponent from on-high. Obviously, in his mind, Kyle needs a quick knock-out of Mid-Nite. Cleverly, he conceives that, if he incapacitates Doc efficaciously, then, he can acquire Knight's notes and equipment efficiently; then, Mist and mates, those remaining after evading apprehension, can fly.
Below, Dr. Mid-Nite brandishes his same blackout bomb (from before) and boldly waves it in warning. "Why don't you come down here, Casper? I have a delightful defective blackout device for you!" calls champion Charles.
Mist makes an odd face, on his melon manifest over essentially ether. Kyle questions, "What good is a defective going to do you, dummy? It's a dud."
"Don't you want to know!"
"Yeah, ah, I do."
McNider heaves his missile. The munition explodes and black smoke mushrooms. Muzzy murk spreads Mist's middle like smog. It seeps swiftly from center to extremities. Almost instinctively, the foggy rogue commences to flow from the black cloud as exclusively as he would from everyday air.
But suddenly, Mist's mien changes, for the blackout bomb mixes most anomalously with his anatomy. The ignoble guy and obsidian gas are not mutually inert. Like mold, the smoke mottles him with swarthy spots—that sickeningly spread. Spooky supervillain screams. Like sour milk, the pouring pother thickens the phantasmal fluid flesh of Mist. Like mulberry muffin batter, the usually aloft iniquitous eidolon dips, drips, and drops semi-solid to Earth. He splats like a big, black mudpie on pale porcelain tile, making a mess. Mealy-mouthed, fuddled Mist mawkishly tries to murmur something.
Doc Mid-Nite takes a knee, "What happened, you say? Well, you see, that defective blackout bomb came from a botched batch that bonded badly. Normally, the chemical solution is safe as coal smoke. Mostly, it but blinds people. However, this concoction resembled volcanic ash and could suffocate the standard scamp. But, it was perfect for you. It just turned you into pudding, syrup, and a colloid. How sweet is that? It's called a colloid, but you may call it a suspension—of disbelief! Ha-ha!"
The scientist-swashbuckler steps away to search Knight's lab for a flagon flask large enough to store some fudgy sludge.
Two stories below, Hourman and Riddler wrestle—with Rex readily winning. He pins the reprobate to a Persian rug. He prepares to punch him placid.
"Wait! Riddle me this. . . . ."
"Aw, shut up! Hourman doesn't have time for this," scolds Tyler.
"But, you should have time because . . . I have a hostage," Riddler claims, "I have a hostage hidden somewhere here in Opal City, and only solving my tough riddle will save the poor sap from my heinous, homicidal henchmen. I think of everything." Typically, Riddler keeps a gang of muscle around; he wishes that he had them tonight.
"Oh, for s***'s sake," the superhero stews slightly, "Alright, what's the riddle? And, wouldn't you prefer to tell it to Dr. Mid-Nite instead? He's a more deft detective than me."
"You'll do," Riddler assures and winks, "You can mayhap help the hostage, hero, if you . . .riddle me this! I am the captive of carbon and, yes, under it as well. I am the captain of your nana, oh, too. I am the cap atop the eleven ell atop me. Where am I?"
Hourman considers and chews his cud. He concludes, "A-ha! You left someone sealed in the bay below Rougeableu Bridge."
"What?!" Riddler rouses, "How did you know?"
Within, Edward relies upon a good guy following a wild goose chase to Opal City's other edge. There is no hostage really.
Hourman coolly explains, "I know my chemistry pretty well. Per the periodic table, carbon is C, and silicon is a sort of 'si', or yes, as well. Furthermore, Si is under C on the table. Following a theme, you mentioned 'nana' and 'oh' too. Those would reference sodium-chloride and oxygen, such as the saltwater bay. Bringing the riddle home, you referenced the sea atop the hostage's sealed coffin and the s-e-a before the ell in 'seal'. Elementary, my dear idiot."
"Oh yeah!" the yare yutz yawps, "Well, try this one. Riddle me. . . . . What do I have if I as to owe three?" The scoundrel slips an ace from up his sleeve. It is a shiny syringe with secret substance.
Rex replies, "That's easy. Arsenic trioxide: As2O3."
With sharp sight, Hourman spots the planned poker. He promptly plucks it from Riddler's grasp. With a smile, the super notes that it is only eight ccs of highly-concentrated arsenic. Shockingly, he shoots it up like a dope addict. The superhero smacks Riddler slack.
The souped-up man supposes, "You don't know how my powers work, do you?" Vitamin mixture Miraclo will metabolize the poison in no time.
Briefly before Hourman bests Riddler, Hawkman travels along the treetops above Rainbow Gardens. Haggard Harvey Dent hangs in his hardy hand. Eagle eyes aim for the Knight Observatory. There, peers have hopefully pacified other problematic parties. Otherwise, Hall will have to join teammates in trouncing tough guys, an activity a warrior enjoys anyway. Hawkman smiles.
Suddenly, a gunshot grazes Hawkman's arm grievously. Gore blooms. And, Hall's hold on Two-Face gives. Trussed-up Two-Face falls for a park fountain. The feathered flier and his flesh wound head for the forest and its cover. A second flash issues from the brush upward seemingly for the hell of it, and an errant bullet sails for somewhere unfortunate in Opal City. Hawkman can hear the shootist's unholy cackle a hundred yards away, and the geliophile's jarring giggle peals proximally through the pines.
On a Rainbow Gardens walkway, Joker really tries to get a hold of himself. Everything has been a real hoot over the last minute and a half. First, Joker gunned his green and purple wagon from the proper street to the park sidewalk, and the Clown Prince may have clipped some pedestrians in the evening dark. Then, he skidded to a halt and hauled forth a very long purple pistol with a prodigious silencer, and he tried targeting this "ten-foot pole" upon incoming Hawkman. He sniped him but only winged him! The ungainly instrument off-put his aim slightly. But, oh well. All was worth the look on Hawkman's half-concealed face. Joker always appears so pleased at nonplussed people and with himself.
Still smiling, Joker simmers down a sec or two. He must try subterfuge if he is going to save Two-Face and sneak him out of here.
Over yon, in the timbers outside Knight Observatory, aloft Green Lantern sweeps an emerald search light back and forth. Sportsmaster should be amongst the evergreen apices and should be in somewhat bad shape, susceptible to apprehension. However, Alan Scott spots neither hide nor hair of the hood.
"Sportsmaster, show yourself," calls Lantern, "You're going to the hoosegow now."
However, Crusher Crock shows neither hide nor hair of himself in the heavy hum of the night, and he does not abruptly ambush Alan Scott either. Green Lantern grows somewhat curious and concerned at Sportsmaster's unexplainable absence. Soon, a JSA colleague comes crunching over the pine needles, and Hawkman reports that Two-Face is missing too. Indeed, he is not in a fountain into which he fell.
Back at Ted Knight's digs, Ted Grant, glad that both guys are named for lionized Theodore Roosevelt, grins at Dr. Mid-Nite and Hourman. In Wildcat's arms, he carries a conked kitty after their excited combat. His comrade Charles likewise smirks, for he has a sloppy schlub sealed in a sturdy SiO2 container. And, Hourman is also pleased pulling along Riddler in his pajamas (how Riddler got into Rex's pajamas Groucho Marx will never know).
Back at Joker's jalopy, Sportsmaster stays nearly as quiet as unconscious Two-Face beside him in the backseat. Sans warning, a tight white glove seizes his shoulder jolting him. Joker jiggles Sportsmaster further awake.
"Say, does Nygma still take a notebook everywhere?" asks the ashen oddball.
"Nygma?"
"Is he a mystery to you?" the Clown chuckles, "Edward Nygma the Riddler. I have the intimate information on everyone—like Santa. Ho-ho-ho-ha-ha-ha!"
Sportsmaster says, "Sure, Riddler is always writing down his 'clever' ideas. The notebook is in the station wagon that we brought here."
"Super," says Joker all smiles, "That saves us all a scrimmage and a joust with the JSA. They can be pretty tough—just ask tatered Two-Face over there. We can let Riddler rot—without reacquiring him." The joke is on Edward.
"Are we leaving Tigress to the goody two shoes types too?" asks Sportsmaster, although he knows the answer.
Joker rubs his jutting, pointed chin, "Are you sweet on ta chérie?"
"Well," Sportsmaster shrugs.
"Well tough!" shouts Joker, "You'll make new friends in Virginia. Rag Doll, Psycho-Pirate, Crazy Quilt, Solomon Grundy, and Jeremiah Jennings all await ahead. And, although they don't know yet, the voice inside their heads joins them soon as well!"
"Is the voice who summoned you?" Sportsmaster surmises about the psychopath's surprise appearance.
"He is. Sure," says Joker smiling.