The Shadow of Shazam # 2

[arcalian]

[arcalian]

The Shadow of Shazam
Issue # 2: "Make Evil Deeds...."
Writen by: R.J. Pare
Cover and interior art by: Dave Marshall
Edited by: Jay McIntyre

[arcalian]

Many years ago...

“Yes,” says the boy’s godfather, “bats can be very scary… in fact I’d say they possess the ability to strike fear into the hearts of men.”

“Now let’s get you home and safe, okay?”

“Okay, uncle C.C.” the boy smiles and lays his head on Marvel’s chest. He shakes his head, more amused than anything really. He realizes he’s gonna have to start working a lot harder on the whole secret identity thing. Captain Marvel looks up as he flies away from the darkness.

“I am getting too old for this…”

[arcalian]

Some months later…

“A-ha… en- guard!” The giggling boy thrusts with his imaginary sword towards his father.

“Oh, you fiend, you have thwarted my plans” Dr. Thomas Wayne says, with mock indignation, to his son Bruce. “Who are you, behind that mask?”

“All you need know villain,” Bruce answers with a flourish, trying to carve an invisible Z into his father’s jacket “is that I am Zorro!”

“Let’s see if Zorro is immune to tickles…” Thomas says as he chases after a dodging Bruce. Martha, caught between the two, shakes her head at the silliness boys of all ages will get up to…

“Come on you two,” Martha admonishes with a hint of a smile “I swear sometimes I am certain that I have two children! Besides, it really is getting late and we need to start for home.”

The theater goers had all been climbing into taxis when the movie ended. The late show… She really didn’t like being out with Bruce this late. When the early show had sold out she suggested they come again another night. But Tom, god love his foolishness, had promised Bruce for days that he could see Zorro. Truth be told, she really didn’t want to disappoint him either. What harm can there be if he stays up a little past his bed-time, it is the weekend after all, Martha thinks to herself.

“Taxi!” she yells holding up her arm as an already occupied yellow cab races by.

“Martha,” Thomas Wayne gets his wife’s attention “we’ll have better luck taking the subway to Union and then catching a cab.”

“If you two had quit horsing around,” she chides “when we first got out, we could have hopped in one of the ones hanging around out front.” She swears, she loves the two but sometimes they can be exasperating. She thinks back over the last several months. After Bruce’s fall things really started to get better for the father and son. Before that scare {thank god for Bruce’s ‘Uncle CC’} they had been drifting apart. Thomas hours of clinic time, in addition to his practice, were leaving him very little time for the family. Little Bruce was growing resentful and Tom was just plain missing out on his son’s childhood. After Captain Marvel found him, Tom changed. He began coming home earlier and passing off the occasional clinic duty to young interns. He began to put his family first.

“What’s more important,” he said when she asked him about it “that we have even more money in the Wayne family coffers… or… that our son knows his father?” He said it half joking, but she could tell… Bruce’s fall into the old cave had really affected him Thomas was not afraid of much, he had always seemed very brave to her, but he was obviously very afraid of losing his little boy. Martha wondered what that meant. Could the fall be considered a good thing? Life could be very weird that way. Weird like, the silly smile creeping onto her lips, watching these two stage a mock battle with imaginary swords and now chasing each other into the alley at the side of the theater.

“Alright, enough of that.” She calls after them, hurrying to follow “wait for me you two nuts.” Martha follows her boys into the alley.

“Ha… ha... ha,” The two Wayne men chortled at the site of Martha trying to run after them in her dress and heels. “Mom,” Bruce teases “you look pretty silly… oomf!” Bruce is startled by his Dad giving him a playful cuff on the back of his head.

“I think your mother,” Thomas begins, taking just a second to whisper to Bruce “never make fun of a lady who has taken an hour to get dressed nice.” He steps in front of Bruce walking towards his wife. “I think she is just the prettiest woman in all of Gotham.”

“Oomf!” the father sounding much like the son manages as his wife’s elbow gets him in the ribs. “Don’t bother trying to butter me up you….” Martha puts on her stern voice “it is time we got back on the street, besides its filthy in here and Bruce is wearing his nice suit.”

“Mo-o-om…” Bruce rolls his eyes “we’re not getting dirty, sheesh.”

“No she’s right tiger,” Tom reaches out and musses his boy’s hair. “Let’s cut through the alley over onto sixth and then it’s only a block to the subway station.”

“Honey… I am in heels… besides its dark… are you sure?” Martha asks her husband not liking the look of the shadows filling the alley.

“I am not a tiger!” Bruce interrupts “I am Zorro! A-ha… aha!” He continues into the alley with the innocent exuberance only seven year old boys can muster.

“Alright kiddo,” Thomas Wayne follows his son “your Mom is right we gotta get home and we’re supposed to stick together!” Looking around, Thomas has an uneasy ‘flashing’ moment. Martha has a point… it is pretty foolish for us to be fooling around in the dark back here.

“Come on Bruce” he says catching up to his boy “let’s head back out on fifth and walk your pretty Mom out of this messy old alley.”

Martha looks at her husband and smiles. Yep, I should write a self help book on how to get a perfect family… just let your kid fall in an old cave and get closer through worrying yourselves sick… probably sell like hot-cakes. She almost breaks out laughing. Thomas looks at her funny. She waves him off, “nothing sweetie lets just go…”

“Well now that does sound like a goodly plan there missuz,” a voice says from the darkness. “Sad to say I am gonna have to charge ya a toll… see… this here alley is sorta my property… and yer like… trespassing.”

The man in the shadows steps forward. He looks mean and hungry, like a predator. Which Martha supposes is exactly what he is. Tonight the prey just happened to be the Waynes. “Okay, okay no problem,” Thomas steps forward “here take my wallet. My family and I are just going to leave and walk away. We don’t want any tr---ugh!” Dr. Wayne’s head slaps back from the thug pistol whipping him across the temple. Dimly he is aware that he has probably suffered a concussion and of course a laceration since blood is pouring into his eye. He put a hand to his head and feels the sticky evidence… he will have to get stitched up that’s for sure… but what about Martha and Bruce?

Thomas wonders if the thief is strung out on drugs. He offered him his wallet for crying out loud. That should have been enough, but if this fella is irrational they might be in more trouble than a simple robbery.

“Don’t tell me what to do!!” The disheveled thief holding the gun yells. “I’m sick of you bastards telling me what to do!!”

Thomas looks in the man’s eyes… or at least tries to. His vision is a little blurry and he has to wipe the blood away… but yes the man’s eyes do look dilated and anxious. Of course that could just be from committing a robbery. Tom looks at the man’s hands… they are shaking. He looks at the thief’s skin… it is sweaty. Yep, most likely this guy needs whatever his poison of choice is and needs it pretty bad.

“I’m sorry I just meant that I want to cooperate, okay?” he asks in as calm a voice as he can muster.

“Just shut it… now!” The thief hollers “I am taking everything you got and one more word… well you get the picture?” Dr. Wayne just nods.

“Mom, Dad… I wanna go home…” the young Bruce starts to sob.

“Quiet ya little brat before I…” he raises the gun as though he might smash Bruce a good one like he did his dad.

“No! Leave him alone he’s just a boy!” Martha yells and moves to place herself between the gunman and her son.

“Didn’t I already warn you lady” he snarls as he grabs Martha by the wrist and throws her against the wall. He advances on her noticing the strand of pearls at her throat. “Ah now that is nice and pretty… heh… heh.” The villain chuckles and reaches out his hand towards her throat and chest.

“What!... No please!” Martha eyes light up in fear. Could this man mean to violate her in front of her family? “Oh dear god no,” she prays silently.

Thomas hears the dread in his wife’s voice and sees the thug clutching at his wife’s bosom. “Like hell,” he mutters and stumbles after him. “Take your filthy hands off my wife!” he roars.

It all happened so fast. Bruce remembers it in splintered images. The mugger, the man who made him an orphan, tore the pearls from around his mother’s throat. The strand snaps and the pearls go sailing, glinting in the moonlight, bouncing on the ground in the dirty alleyway.

The hand holding the gun turns… Bruce is sure if he was bigger, stronger, faster… he could somehow stop that hand from finding its targets. If only he could move… even in his dreams he is rooted in place, the terror of an eight year old paralyzing him.

BANG!

“Thomas!!” his mother cries.

BANG!!

Then there was silence.

Bruce doesn’t remember much after that. He supposes the murderer must have fled. He guesses that police and emergency services must have taken him to the hospital. He thinks that questions must have been asked. He can remember nothing until his name was called by one man.

“Bruce?” A voice in the darkness calls. “Oh my dear boy…”

[arcalian]

The young man’s vision clears and he sees the kind weathered face of his Uncle C.C.

He knows that he will be taken care of. He knows that his Uncle will take him in. He doesn’t think everything will be okay. At the tender age of eight he has learned a painful lesson. With bad people in the world, pain and cruelty, he might never be… okay. At least, with Uncle C.C. he will be looked after and that will have to do… for now.

The only dilemma the young Bruce wrestles with at this point is how to feel about his new guardian. He has always loved and admired C.C. Batson. He is not sure if it is because he was kind and had a fun sense of humor when he played with him. Or more, that he was in awe of his Uncle’s alter ego… Captain Marvel. Bruce has to swallow hard when he thinks of the Captain. His Uncle is kind and wonderful. Marvel is powerful… like a god. The young boy wonders why… why with all the lives the hero saves… why he could not have saved his parents. The bitterness in such thoughts can fester and grow like a weed in good soil, choking the blossoms of better thoughts… if they aren’t plucked out periodically.

The young man has to live, long enough to make his world make sense, to fix the things that can be fixed. So a decision is made. Dark thoughts and bitter feelings are bottled up. They are placed in a corner of his psyche that he chooses to leave alone until he is old enough, strong enough, wise enough… to know how to deal with them.

[arcalian]

Time marches on… on Bruce’s 21st birthday…

“Yes, Alfred” Bruce says into the telephone “please have everything in order. I will be returning to the estate tomorrow and will be taking up residence there, for the time being.”

“Of course, Master Bruce,” replies the aging butler “all will be as you request.”

“Until then, Alfred” Bruce finishes “that is all.”

Bruce hangs up the phone, reflecting for a moment on the decision he has made. True C.C. has done his part to provide for him, but it is time he reclaimed his heritage. They could have been living in Gotham all along, to be honest, if C.C. weren’t so damned stubborn about not touching a nickel of the Wayne money. He would always say “It is being kept in trust for you Bruce… I don’t need it.”

Ya, well my good Uncle, Bruce thinks to himself, I need it. I deserve it… it is my families legacy. If I am to make something of my life I need to start by honoring the lives of my parents.

Bruce broods over his plans for his family’s holdings… chiefly Wayne Enterprises… and how these investments can help him deal with his past. Perhaps investing in better police equipment? There is so much, the young man realizes, that he still needs to learn.

"But I’ll never learn it stuck here in the leaky old Fawcett…" Bruce chuckles a little to himself …

“Aw, now Bruce… it’s not so bad around here is it?” C.C. says walking into the room.

“I – I didn’t mean any disrespect Uncle,” Bruce stammers, embarrassed that he may have hurt the old man’s feelings. “I just want to move forward… get involved in things… it’s just so frustrating being on the sidelines and waiting….”

“Well, my boy, you are 21 now… so no more waiting. You can go to Gotham… go into business… join the elite crowd of socialites…” C.C. lists Bruce’s options.

“You know I don’t care about the snobs!” Bruce interrupts.

“I know son… and they all aren’t snobs, you know that.” C.C. says with a grin. “Your parents were rich and let me tell you… two of the sweetest people you’d ever meet!”

C.C. looks at his ward.

“The thing is Bruce; I know how much you want to make a difference… I know their death pushed you through school faster than anyone else…”

“Uncle, I couldn’t let them down…” Bruce tries to explain.

“And you haven’t… truthfully you could never let them down son, they adored you.” C.C. looks at the young man and makes his decision.

“Bruce, I know of another way you could make a difference, if you think you’re up to a challenge that is?” C.C. watches Bruce’s reactions. “There is someone I would like you to meet. Or, should I say… my counterpart wants you to meet?”

“Who does the Captain want me to…?” Bruce begins but is halted by:

“SHAZAM!”

[arcalian]

Somewhere in the mountains of Tibet…

The Lazarus Pit, its vapors rising like steam in this cold, dark cave, lies before the booted feet of The Demon’s Head. The surface bubbles from gases and toxins escaping the spring fed pool of exotic minerals. This pit and others like it are perhaps the most valuable and closely guarded secrets in the world. The rejuvenative powers of these pools can offer a form of immortality to those who have knowledge of them and the proper conditions in which to use them. The injured, diseased, dying or even the dead… can be restored to youth, health and vitality through immersion in these naturally forming cauldrons of preternatural fluids. It is not a fountain of youth however, its waters are not for the aged to bathe in and rediscover their youth. For anyone, of healthy mind and body, to enter a Lazarus Pit is to suffer a painful death from the unique chemicals violently reacting with their own body’s chemistry. The head of the demon, Ra’s al Ghul, knows these pits well; they have kept him alive for centuries.

Ra’s al Ghul takes a step forward and raises his thickly mittened hands to pull back the hood of his parka. Starkly arched brows jut from a high prominent forehead, his mane of hair jet-black… except for the streaks of white at his temples… Ra’s al Ghul surveyed his discovery. It will serve him well, when the time comes… provided of course that…

“The purity?” he asks of his technicians. They scurry back and forth with their samples and compare results. “Now!” he commands with a hint of impatience.

One of his servants rushes before him, head bowed, eager to report.

“Yes, yes” he waves his hands at the show of servitude… he doesn’t need them to prostrate themselves to prove their obedience… if they weren’t obedient, they would quite simply, be dead. “Get on with it!”

“Master,” the worm intones “the waters are potent… ninety six point three percent purity we have never before discovered a Lazarus Pit of such perfection! Perhaps, the minerals in this region differ somehow from those in other regions where Pits have formed. It would be wise...”

“Yes!” he turns his gaze on his thrall “choose your next words wise-ly. What advice were you about to give… me!”

“Apologies master, this humble servant misspoke in his profound desire to serve.” The technician is ashen with justified fear. “I merely wondered if you want us to pursue further tests of the soil and the origins of the spring that feeds this pit… perhaps the same anomaly that accounts for the richness of purity may have an effect on the results.” He is whining now. “We cannot predict what might happen when the pit is used… we do not know if it will have any unwanted side-effects… master, perhaps with more study we can understand this phenomenon… perhaps it can be beneficial… perhaps it is a result of the altitude… perhaps…”

“Perhaps, you prattling sycophant,” Ghul interrupts with authority, “it is the nearness to Nanda Parbat!”

“Nanda Par..?” the servant attempts to inquire.

“Never mind,” al Ghul emphatically ends the question “it is of no importance to my mission. Secure this pit; set up remote monitoring equipment and prepare to seal the cave. We leave within the hour!”

“Going so soon?” a figure says, appearing floating in the vapors above the Lazarus Pit. “You have not even had the time to offer me a cup of coffee… hah ha.”

The figure, with bright red closely cropped hair, regarded his surroundings with unveiled amusement. He wore some sort of jack-booted military uniform reminiscent of the Nazi SS… except for the absurd capital D.

“Attack! Defend your master,” Talia screams at the guards.

Rifles snap up, braced on shoulders and aimed at this daring intruder. In the span of a heartbeat it will all be over. The first bullets will fly and this interloper will perish for the audacity of invading the presence of Ra’s al Ghul. That is precisely the way that he has trained his men; precisely how he has trained his daughter. His heart beats. No bullets fly through the air perforating the flesh of this impudent fool. In the span of a heartbeat he seems to have vanished. Ra’s begins to scan the room with his eyes in the hopes of discovering some clue as to…

“Really I would advise against shooting me,” chuckles the man who dares confront Ra’s al Ghul, “unless, of course, you wish to ventilate your delightful daughter… hah ha.” He is standing directly behind Talia and his gun is pressed firmly to her temple.

Ra’s considers the situation before him. He would willingly sacrifice any of his followers, including his own daughter, if it were a means to achieving his goals. This is not case; this would simply be a waste of a valuable resource. The world is already full of that sort of nonsense, precisely why it must be forced to accept his leadership!

Ra’s thoughts are full of this sort of delusional megalomania… but what powerful, influential leaders in history have not suffered from such delusions?

“What, precisely, do you want…? Per Degaton!” Ra’s rubs the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger, dealing with the so-called super-villain community was always a ‘mixed’ blessing. Many of these individuals possessed abilities that made them quite formidable. Useful attributes in agents if they are able to follow instruction… sadly most of them also possessed serious character flaws that almost guaranteed they would self destruct under pressure. Precisely the Ra’s avoided employing or working with them… most of the time. This Degaton is truly intriguing though. The ability to travel through time could be a very powerful edge… of course the man’s idiocy has prevented him from making the most of it… this will require guile, Ra’s decides.

“It’s not what I want Demon’s Head,” Per acknowledges with a mocking bow of his head. “You want to rule this world…”

“Benevolently,” Ra’s interjects.

“Whatever, the point is that you have an organization that could actually pull this off… if things were otherwise.” Degaton states, matter-of-factly.

“Otherwise?” Ra’s raises an eye brow inquisitively.

“Yes,” Per continues “the heroes, they always get in the way regardless of your intentions. Banded together they are almost god-like in power. Despite your resources even you cannot best the combined might of the Justice…”

“The Justice Society has disbanded, you time travelling, befuddled imbecile. Do you not take note of what year you are in when you decide to interfere?” Ra’s says disgustedly. Perhaps he has misjudged this fool after all. Of course the Justice Society would have proved… problematic. However, his organization has waited this long to ensure that they will not be a factor. Alone, the heroes can be picked off one by one. Did this buffoon truly think that the Demon’s Head did not take this into account?

“Ahem,” Per interrupts Ra’s angered musing. “If you are through making assumptions,” he says with a sneer “I was not referring to the Society!”

Per Degaton watches the reaction on Ra’s face.

“There will be a new brotherhood of heroes joining forces. This Justice League will be an even more powerful obstacle than its predecessor as it may be led by the partnership of a New Captain Marvel and an alien… a Kryptonian named Superman!” Per Degaton finishes his revelation, smiling, with emphatic gusto.

Ra’s mulls this information over. “If this is to be, than what is it that you think I can do for you? My network is vast… but we do not employ such god-like powerhouses. Have you come to gloat? I seem to recall several instances when you have been hoisted on your own petard!”

“My dear Mr. al Ghul,” Degaton diplomatically spreads his hands. “I come bearing the greatest gift… the knowledge that this future NEED NOT BE SO!” He allows this fact to sink in. “If we work together, we could stop this version of events from unfolding… we could, literally re-shape the landscape of the future. Perhaps the League never forms or at least NOT the version led by these uber-men!”

Ra’s silently thanks the gods that blessed him with patience. This time traveler may be a buffoon but he has the advantage of fore-sight. A powerful advantage that Ra’s decides is worth the risk of confronting such dangers as the superhuman {or alien} community possess. “What, specifically, do you have in mind?” al Ghul asks.

“I am so glad you asked,” Per says, smiling… smugly. “The proverbial Achilles’ heel is this new Marvel-to-be. He has a dark side, one that Cub Scout of mentor does not, or will not, even see. Anger and bitterness fester inside him. Power such as Marvel’s could easily corrupt this young man. It could make it tempting for him to make decisions based on his might and not utilize the wisdom his powers grant him!”

The Demon’s Head nods in understanding. The power of the gods in the hands of an angry young man… such a man could be a surgically sharp blade in the hands of the right master. Ra’s al Ghul is just such a master. Ra’s smiles genuinely pleased. “Very well my dear Per Degaton, perhaps there are indeed many ways such a young man might be turned to our purposes” Ra’s stares intently at his beautiful daughter as he speaks. Yes, he thinks Talia could very well be a valuable resource in such a pursuit.

Per Degaton steps away from Talia while holstering his weapon. Talia glares at him but does not retaliate. If her father has taught her anything it is to choose the moment to strike at your enemies with care and not have it chosen for you. Per came here on his own, one day, Talia silently vows, one day there will be no more escapes… no more time travels… no more tomorrows for you… Per Degaton! For now, she calmly walks to her father’s side and waits.

“Where do you plan to begin? How do we locate this new Marvel?” Ra’s defers to Degaton with a show of respect. Let this man’s ego be stroked, Ra’s decides, and eventually he will reveal all his secrets and then perhaps it will be time to re-evaluate his status among the living!

“Let me ask you,” Per says “Have you ever been to Gotham City?”

[arcalian]

[arcalian]

Meanwhile, at the Rock of Eternity…

Captain Marvel leads Bruce Wayne into the cave at the top of the mountain. The journey here was swift, but Bruce cannot remember how they actually got here. He remembers a flash of light… and then this… this high peak set in the clouds.

“Where,” he raises his voice against the wind “where is this place?”

“Patience Bruce,” Captain Marvel intones, his normally rich voice subdued. “This way… this way lays mysteries… and answers.” The Captain walks deeper into the cave, a passageway actually, now that Bruce’s eyes are adjusting to the light. As they move deeper into the passage he can see shapes, statues that line the walls. Ugly misshapen things, there are seven of them and they are easily twenty feet tall apiece. Each of these grotesqueries has a sign engraved at their base. Bruce wishes there was more light so he could make out what they said.

“These things, the signs, do you know…?” he asks.

“Yes,” the Captain sighs “they are evil things. The Seven Deadly Enemies of Man. These are to be guarded against: Pride, Envy, Greed, Anger, Sloth, Lust and Gluttony.”

“They have been with him from the beginning and they will be with him until the end of times.” A booming voice calls from beyond the passage.

The end of the passage glows and the Captain and Bruce move towards the light and the voice speaking to them. They enter into a large room with a pair of lit braziers providing the glowing light and warmth. Between these, a massive stone throne sits and wavering on it the translucent image of an old man.

“You have brought him here, CC. Have you told him?” the ghost asks.

“Told me what?” Bruce does not understand. He looks at his uncle. “What is going on?”

“SHAZAM!” the Captain transforms back into CC Batson. “There, maybe this will make it easier for to understand son… I hope you don’t mind my calling you that.”

“Of course not…” Bruce says, although if he were being honest with himself… he doesn’t particularly like it. “You were saying though?”

“I am not a young man anymore Bruce, and I cannot remain Captain Marvel forever…. So I want to give you something. You want to give your life meaning… you want to be a part of things… well you’re right. Leaky old Fawcett isn’t the place to do that but I want you to think bigger than just Gotham or Metropolis. I want you to consider helping the world!” CC looks at Bruce with hope.

“Do you mean,” Bruce cannot believe it... “that you want me to… to take your place? To become Captain Marvel?”

“There is precedent.” The ghost interrupts.

“Who are you?” Bruce asks “are you alive? Are you a ghost?” Bruce questions.

“I am both… and I am neither. I am SHAZAM!” the apparition bellows.

“What kind of answer is that? Uncle CC… what is this person?” Bruce is growing impatient.

“Bruce, you have to understand, this wizard…”

“Wizard?” Bruce is incredulous… and yet the apparition is there for him to see.

“Yes, Bruce Wayne I am a wizard… and all you need to understand… to decide is whether or not you want to follow in the footsteps of your Uncle… and the champions who came before him. Will you accept this gift… this responsibility?”

Bruce thinks this over. Can he live up to such expectations? Would this make his parents… proud? The chance to do so much for the world and the power to right wrongs… really only one answer is possible. “Yes.”

“Then speak my name,” the wizard commands.

Bruce looks to his Uncle and takes a deep breath.

“SHAZAM!”

[arcalian]

Time passes…

The exploits of the New Captain Marvel make headlines for awhile. The lives he saves, the villains he thwarts all capture the public’s imagination… for a short time. This is the dawn of a new heroic age though and it seems as though new and exciting heroes are appearing daily and these heroes are operating on the world stage while Captain Marvel seems to return time and again to Gotham City.

“You have left the appropriate packages my dear daughter?” Ra’s asks already knowing the answer.

“Yes father, of course” she smiles. It has been some very busy months. The Gotham Underworld has experienced an influx of weapons and money. Their benefactors discreetly shielded through many ‘dummy’ corporations. Talia hopes her father approves.

A series of violent robberies and internecine gang warfare have turned Gotham City into a very dangerous place to live. So dangerous that Captain Marvel it seems has taken to patrolling its skies on a nightly basis.

“Now, I think would be a good time to get to know him… more personally,” Ra’s raises and eye towards his beautiful daughter. “Perhaps Bruce Wayne needs… a friend” he chuckles softly.

Talia takes a deep breath. She knows what is expected of her. She thinks that this mission could very lead to far more than seduction. With a man as powerful as Bruce Wayne she will need to be very careful. She has seen his picture though… at least he is easy on the eyes, which makes a part of the plan… if not easier, than at least more pleasurable.

“Yes, father… I do believe the gentleman could use a… friend.” Talia grins in expectation.

[arcalian]

The office of the Gotham Preservation Society…

Across from Bruce Wayne sits the new director, Miss Talia…Daemon behind her desk and looking up at her handsome visitor.

“As I was saying,” she takes her glasses off “it was our pleasure to restore your parent’s gravestones after the unfortunate incident with those vandals.”

“But Miss Daemon, really…” Bruce Wayne tries to explain.

“Talia, please…” she interrupts “I insist.”

“Very well, Talia, you must understand… my family left me very well off. There is simply no reason that I cannot replace the damaged markers myself.” Bruce was hurt and angered that anyone would violate their resting place. Then he was oddly thankful and touched that someone had the memorial tombstones replaced with meticulous and exacting detail. He wanted to pay for it though… what is the point of having lots of money if someone still feels compelled to offer you ‘charity’?

“Nonsense,” Talia answers “there is a perfectly good reason. The Old Gotham Cemetery is a landmark. Your parents were among the last to be interred there and the Society exists to preserve those sites which we deem of historical value.” She has a way of smiling with her eyes that seems to capture Bruce’s attention.

“Perhaps… I could make a donation then?” Bruce will not allow himself to feel indebted. He has the means to help others… they should not be spending their limited resources on him.

“I’ll do you one better,” Talia leans forward in her chair “The Gotham Preservation Society is having a fund-raiser in a couple nights… perhaps with your connections to the Gotham elite… you could help us make it a smashing success!”

Now Bruce grins… of course their gesture wasn’t charity… it was designed to garner his good-will. Still, it is a good cause and he decides to go along with it. “There is one small problem Talia… wherever, will I locate someone to accompany me on such short notice?" He grins down at the beautiful director.

There really are far worse ways to spend an evening, he decides.

[arcalian]

Weeks later…

The Gotham tabloids have been a buzz with gossip over the returning son…Bruce Wayne taking his place among the movers and shakers after years in absence. The ever-present gal-pal on his arm as Talia becomes the must-have guest at every serious ‘ladies’ social function.

At the same time… the news beat has been scathing in its growing criticism of vigilantism… and the methods of costumed heroes like Captain Marvel who increasingly is being accused of using excessive force.

On the national scene, the White House has taken steps to approve of the formation of a force of heroes that will follow agreed upon standards of legal behavior in apprehending criminals… The rumors abound that the very same government that once caused the Justice Society to disband may very well lead to its re-birth.

A news conference is scheduled for later today as the President meets with prominent heroes in order to bring about this historic agreement.

“What do you mean?” asks an incredulous Captain Marvel. “My predecessor was a founding member of the Justice Society!”

“Yes… but understand,” Diana of Themiscrya, the woman the media describe as a ‘Wonder’, tries to put things diplomatically “I know the pressures of following in the steps of a legacy. My mother was the first Wonder Woman and served with your predecessor. They would not approve of the heavy handed methods you are currently employing. You know this. Perhaps, if you soften your approach… in time we can bring you in.”

“The media simply would roast us alive if we brought in someone they viewed as a strong armed thug.” The President states the case plainly, and Bruce is shocked. Captain Marvel looks around at the assemblage. Green Lantern, Black Canary, Aquaman, the Flash, Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman and of course Superman [an alien often cited as being more powerful than he is… Bruce wonders]. These people would form an alliance to rival that of the original Justice Society… although they are calling themselves a League.

“This is about the MEDIA! For crying out loud! If they had their way the entire country would be reading bed-time stories to felons!” Captain Marvel is getting really angry.

“Perhaps you should cool off,” Superman steps forward “And we can discuss this again when you aren’t so angry.” He places his hand in a friendly… but firm manner upon the Captain’s shoulder. The room goes quiet… if violence were to erupt between these two… there is no limit to the amount of devastation that could be wreaked. Captain Marvel steps away from Superman, the Wisdom of Solomon still clear enough in his heart to know that he does not want to see the number of innocents perish that a battle between them would likely incur.

“Fine, have your League” Captain Marvel growls “but stay out of my way.” He says as he takes flight “and stay out of my city!”

“His city?” the Flash questions.

“Gotham,” Aquaman intones “his kingdom, for lack of a better word.”

“Diana,” Superman looks to her for advice “did we do the right thing?”

“He backed down from you Kal. So I would say so… yes we did.” Wonder Woman walks over to stand with Superman.

“He didn’t back down from me,” Superman says “he just decided he didn’t want anyone else being caught in the cross-fire. I don’t think that man would back down from anyone.”

“Come everyone,” the president brings the meeting back to order “let’s go meet the press.”

Standing before the world media with cameras flashing the president walked up to the podium. In his address he praised the memory of the Justice Society and apologized that any administration would ever have driven such brave men and women from service. The president, finishing up a second term and therefore not needing to stump for votes, kept his introduction short. This reporter agrees with that decision at least. The next words from the President of the United States of America will be remembered for years to come.

“Ladies and gentleman I give you… The Justice League of America!”

[arcalian]

[arcalian]

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