I Shall Return
March 6, 1942
The waves were temperamental as the boat neared the docks. Carter Hall stood by the railing, watching as the green landscape grew closer. He could have flown, but the officers made it clear that they wanted to take no risks with exposing the fact that their vessel carried superheroes. Japanese bombers were known to make forays this far south. Their skipper was a short, unpleasant man who made it no secret he was unhappy about being assigned to ferry strangers into an active war zone.
Their welcoming party was meager, two cars and a sergeant assigned to drive them to the command with whom they would reside. The driver of Carter's car looked at his passengers as though they were aliens. Carter made no effort for smalltalk, nor did Manhunter or Commander Steel. The jeep visibly sagged where the latter sat. Jay chatted with his driver, while Shiera and Alan offered only terse replies.
Their drive took them into the hills, along a dirt road. The further up they got, the more they were met with sights of soldiers, American and Filipino, many of them in various states of disrepair. The men appeared scrawny, some wire thin. Others had the sweaty sheen of ill health clinging to their brows. Many of them gawked at the queer procession, while others barely noticed, struck with a vacant stare.
The camp they were brought to lay on the northern edge of the Mariveles Mountain. The Japanese had been making landings to the west in an effort to encircle the entrenched defenders. Carter noted that the condition of the men in the camp was not better than those on the road. The medical tent was overflowing with patients, nurses and medics frantically rushing through them. Men sat lethargically in foxholes.
An officer with a bristly face and suspicious eyes met their arrival. Commander Steel saluted the man, which did little to ease his stern approach.
"Welcome to Bataan. What's left of it."
It began with an appeal. First through their liaisons at the All-Star Squadron, then later an in person meeting with one Admiral Hewett. Carter had attended it along with Alan and Dinah. The admiral wasted on time in explaining the purpose of his request. Germany and the European front was a dead end, with the Allies taking very seriously the reports of the Nazi countermeasure for superhumans. The Pacific, however, was another matter.
It was no secret that the Japanese invasion of the Philippines was going poorly for the defenders. Manila was in enemy hands and the remaining forces were being whittled down. Reinforcements could not be mustered. Unless, Admiral Hewett had his way.
He wanted a small team of heroes sent to Bataan to try and turn the tide, or at the very least, provide a boost for morale. Carter and the others had been skeptical of what they could manage, but the admiral wore them down. As it turned out, there was already a group selected. The Flash, Green Lantern and the Hawks for their power and, perhaps more importantly to the powers that be, their propaganda value. Even the Filipinos had heard of the Justice Society. Manhunter and Commander Steel were hand picked by Faraday beforehand to round out the squad. Carter didn't love the idea of working with unknowns, but he had no choice. They were on a plane within the week.
The man that met them was one Captain Francis. He spent the better part of an hour showing them the camp, the defensive lines, truly illustrating the dire nature of their situation. The Americans and Filipinos had made the Japanese pay for each inch of land, but it was a losing battle. They had no air support, no naval support and dwindling resources. Even with a number of hard-fought victories, the defenders were living on a starvation diet, while their foes waited them out.
"You meet with General MacArthur?" said Captain Francis.
"Didn't have the chance," replied Hawkman.
"Figures. Man spends all his time holed up in that fortress on Corregidor. Boys around here are calling him Dugout Doug these days."
It was a bit surprising to hear a soldier speak so plainly about his superior, but with the conditions the way they were there might not be much to lose. The way Carter understood it, MacArthur had not been approving of Hewett's idea. He loathed the notion that a group of masked men and women would be arriving to bail him out, whether or not that panned out.
"What are your orders sir?" said Commander Steel. It hadn't come up in conversation, but Carter was nigh certain that the man was a soldier.
Captain Francis looked around, then back at the group. "Find a place to settle in for now. I've got to see what the major wants to do with you. And don't wander off. I will not be responsible for you all getting killed because you got too curious."
The captain left them. Alan shook his head. "What are we doing here?"
"Whatever is required of us," said Carter. Steel grunted an affirmation.
He tried to catch Shiera's reaction, but she remained steely beneath her helm. Alan and Jay went off to find a place to rest, while Steel continued to inspect the camp. Manhunter had split off at some point earlier. Carter found a tree to lean on, then let out a long exhale. He hadn't wanted to show it in front of the others, but he feared Alan was right. They were in the war at last, the one Carter had itched to join for so long and it was going to bury them.
It wasn't the heat that hit Shiera; it was the humidity. She had been on trips to the tropics before, a few expeditions to Africa and the Americas, but the desert's dry heat made her forget how overpowering moisture could be. It fell on you like a wet blanket. Alan seemed to be getting the worst of it. He was a hardy fellow where it counted, but she could tell that he wasn't used to these climes. He kept swiping at his brow, a thick pool of sweat seeping through his costume. She found him on the outskirts of the camp, in a patch devoid of trees, where you could see the northern landscape of the peninsula.
"Takes some getting used to doesn't it?" she said.
"What? Oh, yes…" said Alan. He slapped away a fly on his neck.
Shiera took up a place next to Alan. There were plumes of smoke all along the horizon. It was accompanied by the low sound of thunder. Or more likely cannon fire.
"I needed a moment to..adjust," said Alan.
"It's alright. I understand." She was grateful for the reprieve from all the attention, the way the troops gawked at them like they'd leapt out of a pulp magazine. Shiera couldn't blame them for their incredulous response, but it made her uncomfortable in a way it didn't back home. There was a gravity to what these men had been through that was at odds with their presence.
"I thought you'd be with Carter."
"He's busy."
"I didn't mean anything by…"
"No need to apologize." Shiera knew she sounded cross. It was a byproduct of how much even her teammates viewed her as a package deal with Carter.
There wasn't much more to say after that. Shiera wondered if one of her past lives had ever been somewhere like this. The visions had dimmed ever since she spent more time apart from Carter. There was something in their union that opened the path to the past. Shiera wasn't sure that she missed the revelations. So many of them ended in pain.
A rustle from behind announced Carter's approach. "Green Lantern...Hawkwoman. The captain's told us we'll receive orders in the morning. For now, we just need to wait out the night." He didn't linger after their response.
"You think we'll be worth anything here?" said Alan. It wasn't like him. This uncertainty. At least not in such a pronounced way.
Shiera nodded. "We can make a difference."
Alan didn't look much like he believed her, but he didn't press the issue. As they found their bunks for the night, a warm rain fell. Shiera lingered under it.
Sleep was an escape that Alan was not permitted. The heat, the bugs, the doubt all conspired to make him toss and turn through the night. More than once he was startled by the cries of the sick and wounded, those unfortunates that lay in the clutches of fate beyond the bounds of his tent. The limits of his own power was not lost on him. The ring made him a veritable god among men, yet it could not purge the weaknesses of the mind.
The morning light was refracted through a low-hanging fog that sat lethargically on the hillsides. He charged his ring before setting off to find Carter and the others. In typical fashion, Jay had already ingratiated himself with the troops, ferrying letters and goods between nearby camps. He had a bundle of letters to take home and deliver. Alan wished he could have such an easy rapport, but he knew that his discomfort was apparent.
Carter and the others held court with Captain Francis, who continued to regard them as a particularly unpleasant burden he had been tasked with carrying.
"The major has found a job for you lot," said the captain.
He had an underling roll out a map of the surrounding region. Lines and symbols were scrawled over it. Battle formations. Alan could not help but notice how many times the Allied positions had been crossed out and redrawn to better reflect their continual retreat. Francis put his pointer finger on a spot to the northwest, a bunch of hills that nearly straddled the coastline.
"Elements of Fox Company were sent along this route to check for Japanese incursions, to better see where we could position our defenses. We haven't heard from them in almost a week. We haven't had the resources to spare for finding them, but you present a special opportunity."
"So a search and rescue mission?" said the Flash.
"Precisely. I'll have a few of my men take you as far as here," he said, pointing to the edge of the Allied defensive lines. "The officer in charge was one Lieutenant Briggs. If he's still among the living, he'll be the man to look for." There was a callousness to the captain, one born of the brutality he had survived in the past couple of months. These were men used to watching their fellows die.
"If he's out there, we'll find him sir," said Commander Steel, with an earnestness that nearly made Alan flinch.
"Just don't get killed out there. I couldn't handle the backlash."
Jay couldn't deny it was a bit silly to be riding in the back of a jeep as it drove them off to find the missing troops, but he was thankful for the lift. The landscape conspired against even a man of his particular abilities. The heat would wear him down if he wasn't careful and the dense foliage of the jungle meant that his speed was lessened, as he was forced to consider each footfall with care. Alan, Carter and Shiera would have a tough time with flying, either fenced in or out by the canopy. The only member of their group that appeared at ease was Manhunter.
"We'll be their soon," said Jay's driver. He was a local, a Filipino by the name of Andre. Back at the camp, Andre and his companions had told Jay of the conditions they were fighting in. How food was hard to come by and half their ammunition was a dud at this point.
"Our leaders have said that reinforcements will be here soon. They repeat it over and over. You've spent time out in the world. Is that true?" said Andre.
For a man with conceivably all the time in the world to come up with an answer, Jay felt stuck. The news had said plenty about the plight of the Philippines, but it wasn't all that promising with the possibility of reinforcements. There was an inevitability to the continued march of the Japanese through the islands. These men were being written off.
A stronger man might have been able to say that to Andre. "They'll be here to send the Japanese packing. We're only the start."
The man's smile told him that he hadn't completely bought it. Whether the creases by his eyes were out of sadness or pity, Jay couldn't tell. "With any luck, you'll be enough to turn the tide," said Andre.
If only it were that certain. Throughout this entire process, there had been a persistent note of doubt, one that Jay could feel moving in parallel with them. It was as though the admiral was using this entirely as an experiment, a way to measure out how much the Squadron could be of use on the frontline. On paper, Green Lantern alone could wipe the Japanese invasion off the map. Jay could tell that their leaders weren't so confident in the practical reality of that sentiment.
The jeeps came to a halt right as the roadway faltered and the elevation began to climb again. Jay hopped off with the rest of the group.
"Bring our boys back Mr. Flash," said Andre.
"They'll be back in time for supper," said Jay.
He did some stretches to limber up, while Carter and Shiera checked the maps once again.
"Your thoughts?" said Green Lantern.
"We've got plenty of ground to cover. Too much for all of us at once."
"You want to split up?" said Jay.
"It's the only way we'll manage."
Shiera shrugged. "He's right, unfortunately."
Jay wasn't wild about the idea, but he had to go along with it. They settled on the plan of breaking into three groups. Jay would search with Manhunter, Carter and Alan, Shiera and Steel. They would work a grid pattern through the area the captain had laid out and regroup by nightfall. They dispersed into the jungle.
It was hard work moving through the vegetation. Jay saved his strength as he swatted away vines and branches, working through the foliage. His partner traversed it with comparative ease, as though he were at home here. Though Manhunter wore a blue and red costume, it was deceptively subtle against the green hues of their surroundings, as though it melded into the scenery. If he was being honest, Jay found the man unnerving. His mask tended to dampen his expressions save for the piercing gaze of his eyes. It was too easy to forget that Manhunter was there, so still and silent was he.
They had been hiking for close to an hour when Jay heard the far away sound of gunfire. The Japanese advance continued on some distant ridge. He could only hope that the defenders were repelling the onslaught.
Manhunter held up a hand, then crouched in the dirt. Jay watched as he plucked a crumpled cigarette from the ground.
"Our boys?" said Jay.
Manhunter nodded.
"How can you tell?"
"Same brand they smoked back in the camp. Couple days old." The man's voice was softer than you'd expect, but there was a starkness to it that conjured up images of a hunting tiger.
"Meaning we're on their trail."
"One way to find out."
Shiera wasn't entirely sure how she'd ended up with the short end of the stick when it came to partners. Maybe it was Carter trying to give her space, but she would have taken either Jay or Alan over her present company. Even Manhunter, with his creepy aura, was preferable to the current situation. It did make her long for the practiced coordination of operating alongside Carter, feelings be damned.
To say that Steel walked through the jungle was to say that a bulldozer drove through a house. Branches were broken, entire plants uprooted by his march. What few birds and other animals remained in the area fled his advance, aware of the danger he represented. The only thing keeping Shiera from snapping at him was his obliviousness to the cacophony his every step produced. It gave her even more admiration for the likes of Superman and Wonder Woman. To be so unyielding, every sinew rippling with power, and to move through the world with such care. Such caution. It was unfathomable self-restraint. The kind that was sorely lacking from her present company.
He was also slow, to the extent that she refrained from taking wing out of fear that she would lose him within minutes. So instead, Shiera endured the diminished pace and the absurd din as they crashed through the landscape. At least if there were any survivors, they would hear them coming. Of course, so would any Japanese.
There was an unpleasant irony to the fact that Green Lantern could not use his ring to alleviate the discomforts of pressing on through the bushes and trees. Even with a forcefield up, the plant matter would slip through all the same. So Alan did his best to endure the difficulties of the terrain.
Carter seemed less troubled, his wings folded tight against his back. He was the sort of man that Alan could picture anywhere, in any situation. He had that countenance, that composure. It was telling that the group had immediately deferred to him as the leader of this mission, even Steel.
The sound of the surf rose through the trees, the sign of the nearby coast, though they were much higher than the water, winding their way through the hills. Carter stopped at the peak of one such rise, where a sliver through the foliage gave way to the ocean. The sight of the resplendent blue surface was almost enough to make Alan forget the gravity of their task, if only for a moment.
"It's been over an hour," said Carter.
"How much ground have we covered?"
"Not enough. At this rate, even split up, it's going to take us days."
Days the lost company didn't have.
"Time to expedite the process?" said Alan.
Carter unfolded the map once more, tapping a spot to indicate their current position.
"We need to check from the air. At least for a while. If we don't find anything, we meet back here. If we do, you know the signals."
Each man lifted off the ground, buoyed by the ring and wings respectively. The soldiers warned them that the Japanese owned these skies, having bested the local garrisons of airpower. Alan wasn't too concerned about enemy planes, having felled enough at Pearl Harbor to have a sense of their capabilities. It was the prospect of another Japanese superhuman that made him worried.
They split in the air, each choosing a different swath of jungle to scan. He would have been far away from Shiera, but he still looked to see her wings in the air. She was nowhere to be seen. Those distant fires were closer, accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of battle. Alan wondered how many men were dying over there. He stayed close to the trees, wary of exposing himself to any enemy fire. For a while there was nothing to speak to any human presence in this stretch of forest. Then, on an embankment to the north, where the trees thinned out, Alan could make out the bare bones of a camp. He altered his course towards it.
He was nearly there when his ring lost its glow. It was so sudden that Alan had no time to react, other than a surprised yelp as his momentum shifted towards gravity's demands. As the treetops neared, it was slim consolation that the ring would not have protected him from the impact in any case.
The first sign that they had blundered into the enemy was a spray of sparks from Commander Steel's face as a burst of gunfire cut through the thicket. Hawkwoman spun behind a nearby tree as the incoming rounds followed her path, chewing up the bark. She retrieved her mace before sprinting toward the enemy.
The Japanese weren't expecting such a quick turnaround and she had crashed into their lines before they could adjust their aim. Up close, the troops were no match for her. It was only as she sent the last one into unconsciousness that the second group presented itself, rifles aimed square at her. Shiera leapt to extend her wings, only to drop back to the ground.
The killing shot never arrived, interrupted by a toppling tree as Steel barreled over the group. He was a sloppy fighter, all brawn, no grace, but he got the job done all the same. When it was over, he jogged to her, concern plastered on his face.
"Are you alright, ma'am?"
"In one piece. Drop the ma'am. Out here, it's Hawkwoman."
"Sorry. Still getting used to this." He glanced back at the downed soldiers. "What do we do with them?"
Shiera undid a rope on her belt, using it to bind as many of the men as she could. It was no use trying to haul them all along as prisoners now, but she couldn't leave them free to regroup when they came to.
"Stumbling into that patrol could mean we're on the right track. Or in the middle of what is now enemy territory," said Shiera.
"Hopefully the former," said Steel.
Shiera tried to flex her wings, only to find they wouldn't response, remaining folded on her harness. "There was something odd back there. My wings..they won't work."
"Has that happened before?" said Steel.
"No, never."
"Strange…" he said.
Shiera couldn't claim much familiarity with the man, but there was a note off in his voice, enough to prompt her to examine him closely. His costume covered nearly his whole body, except for the jawline and thin strips around the eyes, yet even from that sparse amount Shiera could see that he was deathly pale.
"Commander Steel, are you feeling okay?"
"Fit as a fiddle. Why?"
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
No sooner had the words left his mouth, then Steel fell directly backwards, his hefty frame burying itself into the earth. Shiera tried in vain to wake him. He continued to draw breath, but subtle convulsions wracked his frame. Shiera was alone, in likely hostile territory with a comatose companion and no powers.
The world caught up to Jay in a way he hadn't experienced in years. It would be difficult to explain to a layperson, but his perception was a constant current of slow to fast, depending on what given stimuli he received at any one time. He suspected the preservation of a normal flow was a trick his mind played on itself, a way to retain his sanity and avoid the unbearable crawl of base human speed filtered through his inhuman reaction times. He could not pinpoint the switch, but it had happened somewhere along the way. His speed was gone.
If Manhunter noticed his companion's newly uncertain movements, he made no comment on it. Instead, the tracker continued his prowl, picking up new insights as they went. Another cigarette here, an opened can of rations there. Bullet casings, abandoned weapons, boot prints in the soft mud. Eventually they found the first body. An American face down in a bush, a dried red stain on the back of their fatigues. More followed, some American and Filipino, some Japanese. The engagement had been a vicious affair from the way their corpses were arranged, with no small number sprawled over one another. They paused at the body of an American lieutenant, his dog tags reading Briggs.
"Suppose we know what became of Fox company," said Jay.
"Not all of them," said Manhunter. He was crouched low, scanning the dirt. "Drag marks. And more footsteps."
"How do you know it wasn't the Japanese?"
"Wrong boot sole."
Jay let the man take the lead once again as they shifted to the trail of these phantom survivors. It was unpleasant, hearing fighting far away, the kind of sensory input that would typically push Jay into a heightened state of perception. What would happen when they ran into real danger? He was so used to having speed as his shield, of ordinary threats being trivial, that he felt naked without that option.
They maintained their new route for a time, as it dipped into a narrow gulch, rife with ferns. Jay had long given up trying to see what scraps Manhunter was basing his decisions on. An ominous drone filled the air, a sign of planes overhead. Jay was busy surveying above that he jumped when he ran into Manhunter's outstretched arm.
"Tripwire," said the man.
Jay felt the cable on his ankle, another second away from triggering whatever mechanism it was attached to. Manhunter demonstrated how to step around it, which Jay copied with diligence. They avoided a series of similar traps, some designed only to make noise, others attached to more lethal implements like jury-rigged bayonets and sharpened sticks.
As Jay waded past a dense patch of bushes, he spied a glint of metal from the steep side of the gulch. With his powers he could have evaded whatever threat it presented. Here and now, he could think of only one option.
"We're friendly," he cried out, hoping the outburst would not provoke a gunshot.
Half-flinching in anticipation, he let his eyes focus on the barrel. It was sandwiched between an outcropping of rocks, where the terrain climbed quickly. It was too dark within the space to see who was holding the weapon.
"Captain Francis sent us. To find Fox company."
The barrel didn't move, but it didn't fire either. Jay continued.
"I bet I'm a strange sight at a time like this. They call me the Flash back in the states. I'm here with a few my buddies to bring you back to safety."
"Where's the other one?" came a voice from the rocks.
"What?"
"The one that's with you. Where'd he go?"
Jay hadn't realized that Manhunter had vanished on him.
"That's Manhunter. He'll come out now...right?"
Enough seconds past that Jay was worried the man in the rocks would fire, till the brush beside the slope rustled and Manhunter emerged. If he was disappointed in the Flash, it didn't register on his face mask.
"See. This is all of us for now. The others are off looking elsewhere for you..for any other survivors."
"There aren't any," said the voice.
"How can you be sure?"
"I seen them all die. We're all that's left."
"So there's more of you in there?"
"Three others. Soon to be two considering how Jorge's looking."
"We can help. It's why we came here."
The barrel slid into the dark. A rock was rolled out of place, revealing a tight slot in the outcropping where a person could shimmy through.
"Can I come in?" said Jay.
He received no response. Manhunter merely cocked his head when Jay sought his opinion. Sighing, Jay slipped into the expanse. It was dark and moist inside, with a pungent odor of unwashed bodies and rot. Three men lay on their backs, one with a bandaged wound that leaked. The only one that appeared relatively unscathed was a soldier with a rifle that remained perched on his knee, the message clear that he would use it at the first sign of trouble.
"You're the fast one," said one of the wounded men.
"That's me," said the Flash.
"We'll see if it does us any good here. The enemy is all over this area," said the man with the gun, a private from his uniform. He was young, young enough to surprise Jay. Couldn't have been a day past eighteen, even with the stubble and grime that coated his face.
"I can promise you we'll do our damndest to get you to safety."
"Haven't you seen? Nothing around here is safe anymore. Not here, not in Bataan, not in Luzon, not in the whole goddamn Philippines."
There wasn't much Jay could do to argue with that, but he could see on the faces of the other men that such talk wouldn't do them any good.
"Come on Wilson...Not like we have any better options," said one of the wounded men. "I don't wanna die in this hole."
"Buddy I can tell you and your boys have been through hell. But, I can also swear that me and my companions will lay down our lives if it means you get to live yours."
The young soldier's face stayed somber. Private Slade Wilson leaned in close to Jay, close enough that he could jab his finger right in the center of the speedster's chest. "Prove it."
Carter yanked the branch out of his arm, his teeth gritted. The canopy had broken his fall, though it levied its own price, one he was still dealing with as he limped along. One minute his wings had worked, the next they may as well have been lead weights. He feared for Green Lantern and the others. Shiera may have been flying as well.
There was gunfire closer than before, as well as the scent of fire through the trees. He continued along the ridge line till it reached a peak, where the hillside was barren from a past blaze. To the north, Carter spied movement. He stayed low to avoid being spotted. There was a group of soldiers in tan uniforms. Japanese troops. They carried a stretcher with a man in a green and red costume on it.
Alan.
There was no use in charging them now, the distance too great, the cover too sparse. Instead, Carter was forced to settle for a slow pursuit, as he crept down the slope, while the soldiers and their captive vanished back into the treeline. He wished there was a way to notify the others, but any attempt would alert the enemy. The Japanese patrol marched for another half an hour till they came to a halt beside a river in a stretch of open lowlands. Carter waited where there was cover.
They had stopped at a forward base of sorts. There were a handful of trucks parked under camouflage netting, along with a single tank. A ramshackle bridge spanned the river. Temporary shelters dotted both sides of the banks, a few dozen Japanese milling about. Alan had been taken into one of them by the patrol. Strangest of all was the structure that lay on the other side of the river. It was a pillar or a lightning rod, standing tall enough that it could tower over the trees beside it. Cables stretched from its length to the ground, where they anchored it with pins. It remained a work in progress, based on the number of men that were affixed to its tip, using a system of pulleys to haul up the next section. Carter wondered if it was a radio array. There was also a domed tent, almost like one from the circus, which sat near the rod. A group of armed men ringed it in all directions.
A direct attack was suicide. Even with his powers it would have been dicey. Sneaking in was his best bet. Carter retreated from sight of the base to take shelter till it grew dark. He could only hope that Alan would last till then. And that the others were okay. He found a spot to the southwest where he could rest without being easily disturbed.
Carter returned when the sun was down. There was enough moonlight to find his way. The Japanese would have guards and patrols to maintain their perimeter, but all he needed to do was escape with Alan. The camp was intent on secrecy based on how few lights it had set up, only a small set of them around the buildings. Strange for an invading force that had so handily removed the threat of aerial bombardment.
He was on the slow descent toward the outskirts when he stopped. Alone at the foot of the hill, wreathed by the moonlight, was a man. He was big, big enough that Carter thought it was a trick of the shadows at first. All that could be discerned from this distance was that he held a weapon, a spear that rested on his thighs. Though there was a few hundred feet between them, Carter clad in shadow and foliage, he had the immediate realization that this man was staring straight at him.
"I'm glad it was you," said the man in a booming voice that sent birds fleeing from the trees.
Carter readied his mace.
"When I first saw you were back, I almost couldn't believe it. It's been so long since I've had the opportunity to hunt you."
There was nothing familiar about this man, but every hair on Carter's body stood up. The level of confidence to challenge him alone.
"To say nothing of the fact that fate has brought both of you into my grasp. I shall enjoy ending this Hawkwoman next."
The only consolation that Carter took as his blood began to boil was that the man's words likely meant Shiera was still out there. He left the bushes, taking great strides down the hillside toward the man, mace in hand.
"There it is. That temper. That rage. You would think after all these deaths you might learn that it is your undoing."
"If you fight like you bark, I have nothing to fear," said Hawkman.
Powers or not, this man could not be allowed to walk away. Never mind the current of fear that pulsed through his skin. He had incurred a debt too grave to ignore. The would-be hunter whirled the spear around to a fighting position as Hawkman charged.
There was little question at this point that Shiera was lost. One would think that retreating to safety would be as easy as turning around, but with the oncoming twilight and the need to evade Japanese patrols and she had managed to get rather disoriented. It made her miss Steel's ungainly gait, as at least he made a clear path through the jungle. Not that she was getting any real respite from him, seeing as she was now dragging his inert frame step by draining step. Whatever sapped their powers did remove his weight, at least not entirely. She considered leaving Steel to reorient herself, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon the man. There were simply too many soldiers prowling about. More than once, Shiera was forced to wait and hide as soldiers passed by, sometimes coming so close that she could see their faces in the gloom. So instead, she strained and cursed as she hauled him through the forest.
At some point in the night, there was a commotion in the jungle ahead, the rustle of yet another patrol or a fleeing animal. Shiera found a thick bunch of shrubs where she could conceal herself, slipping her arms out of the makeshift harness that dragged her companion in case she needed to fight. Branches splintered and snapped. A body careened through the air, bouncing off of a trunk and landing in a tangle of vines and underbrush.
Shiera was shocked to see that it was Carter, his body scored with cuts and bruises. He writhed about, ripping up the ground as he got up.
"Hawkman," she said, in a low voice.
His head whipped about, finding her, his eyes like a crazed animal. They softened somewhat on meeting hers, before snapping back towards the direction that he was thrown from.
"What's going on?" she whispered.
"He's coming. The enemy."
"Who?"
There was a clang as Hawkman used his mace to deflect a spear thrown with such blinding force that Shiera hadn't seen it. A second one thudded into a tree, its shaft vibrating from the impact.
"They have Green Lantern. In a camp to the north of here."
Another spear whizzed by. Shiera couldn't tell if she had been spotted or this hunter was merely trying to hit Carter.
"I'll keep him occupied. You need to get Alan."
Shiera began to argue, about to cite her predicament with Steel, but Hawkman crashed through the brush away from her. She heard him grunt and shout, as more projectiles flew through the night air. The enemy had not seen her or deemed her worthy of attention.
She spat out a curse and grabbed the harness. It was time to get Alan.
In hindsight, Jay should have known something was wrong when Manhunter signaled them to pick up their pace. It was slow going on the way out of the gulch and back towards friendly territory. He was the back half of a stretcher team, carrying the wounded Jorge on a cobbled together stretcher made with sturdy branches and cloth salvaged by the group. Ramon held the front end, while the other soldier Isaac supported himself with a walking stick. Manhunter and Private Wilson took the lead.
Private Wilson gestured for them to stop, then crouch.
"Dammit," muttered Wilson.
"What's the matter?" said Jay.
The man didn't respond, with Manhunter holding a finger to his mouth. On their left, up a slope there was the sound of twigs snapping and bodies passing through the thicket. Jay waited, low to the ground, long enough that his legs ached. It became clear that this was no mere patrol. It was a platoon or more of men, advancing through the jungle under the cover of night. From their spot, it wouldn't be long before the Japanese were on top of them.
"Shoulda stayed in our spot," said Isaac.
"Too late for that talk," said Ramon.
Jay wished for his speed. Manhunter remained cool as could be, sizing it all up like he was shopping at the grocer's. He tapped Private Wilson's shoulder and pointed to a couple of spots along the hillside, points where the men would no doubt come.
"How fast are you right now?" said Manhunter.
"Not as much as I'd like to be," said Jay. "But I'm no slouch." Ignoring the fact that he was hauling a wounded man in uneven terrain.
"We're going to draw them off of you. When we do it'll be time to get," said Manhunter. There was no panic to him, no trace of tension. Cold as you like it, though Jay.
He blended into the scenery, while Wilson did the same, ignoring the quiet pleas of his fellow soldiers for reassurance. That task fell to Jay.
"Easy fellas. We'll be out of here in no time."
The wait was the killer, as the men sat in the brush, coiled like snakes, listening to the Japanese soldiers grow closer by the minute. He heard a few of them chatting and laughing, casual as could be, till another, an officer no doubt, barked at them to be quiet. Isaac face had taken on the quality of a cornered animal. It wouldn't be long till he snapped and made a run for it, distraction or not.
One of the Japanese soldiers said something in a confused tone, then there was the crackle of gunfire and all the yelling and chaos that accompanied it. Clear a sign as any, Jay thought. He and the others dashed off, heads down, as the hillside behind them turned into a war zone. They scrambled through the jungle, avoiding roots and mud and vines as they huffed and puffed. It had been so long since Jay ran without his powers that there was a novelty to the experience, one that bordered on enjoyable had it not been for the looming sense of doom behind them.
Shiera left Steel under a pocket of roots, having covered his body with leaves and debris. The red, white and blue colors of his costume were muddied from being dragged around for so long that it would be harder to spot him. Still, she couldn't leave him there long.
Getting close to the camp in the dark wasn't particularly hard, even with the patrols. It was finding Alan that proved troublesome. It was late enough at night that most of the enemy soldiers were asleep, a fact she learned as she peered into hut after hut on the riverbank. The pillar beside the camp let off a dim wave of blue light.
Her answer arrived in a complicating fashion, as a duo of Japanese soldiers dragged Green Lantern out of one of the huts. Her friend looked terrible, his costume ragged, his face cut and bruised. Shiera shadowed the men, always unable to spring on them without being noticed. They hauled him over the bridge to the far side of the camp. Their destination was a domed tend beside the pillar, which they brought Alan into.
Shiera crossed the river by way of the bridge, shimmying along its underside the clear the waters, which moved with more force than she anticipated. She didn't want to find out if she could swim properly in her lessened state, her flight harness more a hinderance than anything at this point. On the other side of the river, Shiera had a better view of the pillar. It was bathed in the blue light that spouted from its tip. The metal that made it up almost seemed to slither when you didn't look directly at it, an effect that proved nauseating to the senses. A group of men were at its base, one of them appearing to appraise the structure. He was wearing a black uniform, his face covered by a horned mask, its mouth shaped into a grimace. A chill ran through her at the sight, a response she had not anticipated.
She remained by the bank, where no light shone, waiting and watching the movement by the domed tent. There were fewer soldiers on this end of the river, but they were more active. The tent was guarded by at least eight men, arranged all around it, at every entrance. A mechanical noise emanated from it. The group inspecting the pillar eventually retired to a nearby structure, a command post by the looks of it.
Shiera snuck away from the bank, towards one of the few cars on this side of the river. She found that the cab was accessible, though the keys were not present. Still, she could undo the brake and with enough force, get it rolling towards the water. She fled back into the dark, content to watch as a group of the men around the tent responded to the runaway vehicle, which buried its front into the water, as it began to sink. It was a lot of noise, but it was all she needed.
The interior of the tent wasn't what she expected. Two bulky generators sat on either end, wired into a central point on which a clear, round bulb sat like the light on a lamp. It was large, taking up a good third of the space in the tent. Inside, suspended in the air by an excess of cables, was a person, a man, gaunt and pale. It took her a moment to recognize that they were in a kind of fluid, one that filled the entire bulb. Green Lantern lay next to the bulb, on one of the tables, left like a discarded bit of trash.
Shiera was so taken with the scene that she failed to notice the man, dressed in a military uniform, till he walked around one of the generators. He held a clipboard, his eyes affixed to it as though he were checking his notes. He came to a halt when he saw Shiera, the two of them enjoying a wordless exchange of surprise before he began to cry out. She was on him in no time, knocking him to the ground, her hands over his mouth. He fumbled for a sidearm, but she knocked him out with a heavy drop of her knee. No one rushed in right away. Perhaps the noise of the generators obscured his call for help.
She collected herself. The man's uniform had a distinctive insignia that ran the left breast of the shirt, a black dragon that spilled onto the sleeve as well. She left him to check Alan. Her friend still breathed, but he did not stir. He had suffered considerable injuries, which were untreated, including a number of cuts, several of which appeared to be in the early stages of infection. Medical treatment was in order.
Before Shiera could decide on a next course of action, she became aware of movement in the bulb. The floating man's hand had slapped against the glass, his features animated by desperation, in spite of the mask that covered his mouth, trailing its own bundle of cables. It wasn't fear over what she had done to the soldier...it was a cry for help. Shiera checked the machinery and the generators, while the trapped man watched. There was no intuitive switch, no easy way to discern their purpose. Another search of the downed man revealed no instructions. She sighed. So much for stealth.
The first strike of her mace on the bulb did nothing. In fact, it summoned a resistance, a feedback that sent pins and needles up her arm. The second war more of the same. But, Shiera persisted. Over and over she hit the bulb, aware that each blow was louder than the last, threatening to draw the guards to her. It mattered not. She needed no words to understand the raw terror in the eyes of the figure within the bulb.
It could have been the continual onslaught or the surging force of her strikes, but Shiera watched as the bulb splintered, then shattered, as the fluid gushed out onto the ground, hissing and sizzling in the open air. She instinctively stepped back from the bulb, as it voided its contents. The hole only grew wider, with the person within spilling out too, cables and tubes being pulled from them as they did. Shiera knelt down to support them as thin hands grasped at the mask over their mouth. She helped them take it off. Withered lungs took in air for the first time in who knows how long. By the time the emaciated figure was done spluttering and wheezing, only one thing was repeated over and over in a rasp.
"Arigato, arigato, arigato, arigato…."
It happened too fast to have any sort of proper response, first around the limbs, then spreading to every bit of flesh. The pale skin turned purplish black, growing thin, before crumbling like burned paper. Shiera was left holding air.
It was unfortunate for the guards that stormed the tent that as she rose and fanned her wings, Hawkwoman understood that her powers were back. She had little question as to who deserved their first usage.
When his speed returned, the Flash wasn't sure if it was because he left the threshold of whatever invisible field stole them away or if the source had ceased its influence. It was only on the return dash, after having brought the wounded men to the American camp, that he recognized it was the latter. The jungle at night was no joke to navigate and it took him a couple passes to find the spot where Manhunter and Wilson made their stand. He ran in, fists ready to do their share. What he found made him come to a complete halt.
Private Wilson sat on a tree stump, cigarette in hand. His fatigues were coated with blood, his face slathered in it. A broken rifle lay propped beside him. Manhunter stood nearby, his back to the Flash. The ground around them was littered with dead Japanese soldiers, slain in all manner. The entire scene was illuminated partially by a hellish glow coming over the hillside from a some distant fire. Jay was speechless.
"You get those boys back safe?" said Wilson.
"What?"
"You get those boys back in one piece?"
"I..I did."
Manhunter turned to him, approaching him. Jay realized his own hands were shaking.
"What happened?" said Jay. Manhunter put a hand on his shoulder.
Wilson snorted. "What happened? What happened? War happened."
Jay wasn't sure what he expected. He understood it was war, it was their lives or the enemies. But, to see it, this close. His own teammate too. He thought of his father in the Great War. He had seen combat. It was about survival. But the rational conception continued to crash against the real. It was different at Pearl Harbor. There the enemy was distant in their planes, an abstraction. Here was the real grisly business of war.
"Come on," said Manhunter, almost gently. "Let's get back to base."
Wilson flicked his cigarette onto one of the bodies and whistled. "You ain't made for this hero."
It was a relief to fly once more. Ignoring all the gunfire that followed Hawkwoman as she flew off with Green Lantern in her arms. She had bowled through the first wave of guards, but it was high time to leave the camp. That man that withered away was somehow the drain on their powers. A grim revelation.
She didn't see the spear till it pierced her wing. Hawkwoman cried out as she plummeted, twisting to land back first, her wings shielding her and Green Lantern from the impact. It was a turbulent landing, coming to a sprawling stop on the jungle floor. She pulled out the spear, her wings already working to repair themselves.
Another spear whirled from the dark, though this time she was ready. Dodging that one, blocking the next. A large man walked toward her. He had a mess mane of black hair and a thick beard to match it. He was dressed in a fine coat, torn around the shoulders and legs. In his right hand was another spear. In his left, dragged Hawkman.
"If you've hurt him, I won't grant you mercy," said Hawkwoman.
The man dropped his captive on the floor as one would a bit of rubbish.
"It's endearing to see your love for one another once again. Though it never saves you," said the man.
Shiera lunged at him. He caught the swing of her mace with the length of the spear, driving her back with a headbutt that split her lip. She took several steps gain space, tasting the blood that dribbled down her chin.
"I'm not all that impressed with this version of you. I thought it would be fresh, to match the times. He went down too easily."
They exchanged another series of blows. Hawkwoman took a cut to her left bicep to club him in the knee. The man roared in pain, but he avoided her follow-up.
"Good. You've always had more spirit than him."
Their fight continued, tearing through the mass of trees. Shiera was exhausted, but Carter had clearly put up more of a fight than her opponent let on. He bore injuries that slowed him. Still, it was not in her favor, with the canopy overhead preventing Hawkwoman from using her wings meaningfully. She scampered away from a stab that nearly pierced her belly.
"One of my compatriots has expressed great interest in you. He wants to take you apart to find out why you always come back. He's implored me to bring the two of you back alive."
Shiera knocked the spear strike away from her, as her foe advanced.
"I can't bring myself to do it, if I'm being honest. Knowing I get to kill you again is one of my favorite things to look forward to in this life. I'm always sad to learn you've died without my hand."
"Who are you?" said Shiera.
"You've no idea how many time you have asked me that."
He pricked her wrist, which made her lose grip on the mace. The next thrust caught her in her thigh, burying the head deep. She screamed as he bellowed triumphantly. He leaned in close, one hand on her throat as he twisted the spear.
"Die knowing it was Vandal Savage who ended you."
The tree trunk hit Savage's midsection so powerfully that it exploded into a hail of splinters. The man was sent shooting through the air, his body disappearing into the night's sky. The person holding the remnants of the tree was Steel.
"Thought I could repay the favor," he said.
Shiera tried to nod, then passed out.
March 28, 1942
Shiera sat in the JSA headquarters, with Sandman, Liberty Belle, Batman, Wonder Woman and Black Canary. She wanted to be resting or at Carter's bedside but this was too important to miss.
No heroes welcome awaited the group when they made it back to the American lines. She took consolation in the lives they saved, and from the sound of it, Shiera had disrupted an enemy operation, but there was no grand victory to be had here. Alan and Carter were badly hurt.
General Douglas MacArthur was evacuated from Corregidor on March 12, leaving the increasingly futile task of holding Bataan to General Jonathan Wainwright. What the public was not informed of was that the small squad of heroes was removed as well, ferried back to America by boat and plane. Manhunter never took that trip, choosing to stay behind in spite of their orders. On the 20th, MacArthur made the promise that he would return to the Philippines from a remote train station in Australia. There would be no return for the others. Jay was to understand that President Roosevelt saw the loss of an American superhero in battle was too dangerous a threat to morale to sanction any other missions, particularly when there was no intelligence on how widespread the Japanese countermeasure was at this point.
Shiera told them about the camp, the pillar, the man in the bulb, the black dragon soldiers, the man in the oni mask and the hunter. The other members sat with her story for a time. Liberty Belle had an intense expression, but she gave no voice to whatever was within her. Sandman was the first to speak.
"This... Vandal Savage knew you would be there?"
"So it seemed," said Shiera."
"Not a coincidence?" said Black Canary.
"No," said Batman. "Almost certainly not."
"Which means we're compromised." said Black Canary.
"At what level?" said Wonder Woman.
"That's the question," said Sandman. "That's the question."