Fiction again! Enjoy! :)
Prologue:
I admit it. I - am a geek. A nerd. A loser. Always have been. Always thought I would be. Didn’t bother me too much. As long as I got to read and write my stories, and still managed to work enough hours to pay the bills. That was enough.
Comic books were my main form of enjoyment. They were cheap. And I read voraciously. Still do. When I have time. There’s a lot less of that to spare since I came here. Of course, reading escapist fantasy pales in comparison to actually LIVING escapist fantasy every day. Hi. I’m John Black. Until lately, I led a normal, average, boring life as a comic book shop owner. Yeah, yeah. Heard all the Simpsons jokes already. Thanks so much. Things changed one day for me, not all that long ago. I left my job, my tiny efficiency apartment home, my world, my REALITY. Now, I’m a member of an organization I watched on Tv as a child; The Justice League.
A few short weeks ago, I owned and operated a comic book shop. I was 41, and content to come to work, read everything before I put it out on the shelves for sale, and scribble stories of my own in my notebook, between customers. Then, an impossible person appeared in my shop one morning; Pariah, from the Old Dc universe. PRE Crisis, 1985. Turned out it was going to be a pretty interesting day for some people…
11:45am. I’ve unpacked the multitude of boxes, shelved every single issue correctly, put everyone’s special orders in their personal folders and managed to chug my way through the stack of books I enjoy reading myself. The store is quiet. I don’t turn on the radio. Real rock music ended in 1989 anyway, so I don’t see the point. The silence can be somewhat, deafening on occasion. This morning, I could hear a breeze blowing. I raised my eyes from my scribbling, to see who walked in and left the door open. Then, it hit me; the breeze wasn’t COLD. This is late November. It’s in the high 30s, low 40s here in Jersey . The breeze that ruffled my sweater was warm. Moist. Smelled of SOMEthing not pleasant. Doom. Wet, smelly, dog-fur doom. The slight whisper of that breeze built all too quickly into a howl of wind, that may have been what some described a tornado as like. I thought a freight train was running over the little 15x20 shop, with all the shaking and shrieking of wind. Then it all stopped. My carefully shelved magazines were everywhere. And a man in wildly colored clothes stood before me, looking as shocked to see me, as I know I was to see him. The worst part was, I recognized him.
“Aw, crap. Pariah? Kell Mossa?” I pushed my glasses up on my nose and crossed from behind the glass counter.
The man’s head snapped up and he looked me in the eye.
“I…..I don’t know you. Should I?” he hesitated, looking around nervously. I knew why. Wherever THIS guy appeared, disaster soon occurred.
“Uh, oh. No. You shouldn’t. Name’s John. John Black.” I smiled and nodded curtly, following his nervous gaze. He noticed.
“You…know why I’m here.” A statement. Not a question.
“Sorry that I do. Will this be local, or is the whole planet done for?”
“Local! Local. I…I…a meteor hit. Just this building, I think. Are there many here? We may have time to get them out…”
“No. Just me. And I’m guessing if you appeared in the only store with a living person in it, it was to let me know I’m the only one that’s going to bite the bullet.” I picked my soda up off the end of the counter and drew a sip. Offered it to him too. He stared at it in a dazed way, then accepted it, taking a long draught.
“Yes. NO. I came to take you out of here BEFORE!” Pariah dropped the empty bottle and grabbed my arm, seeming to suddenly remember his original mission.
“Okay.” I wasn’t going to argue. Especially since I thought I could hear the high pitched whistle of something like a dropping bomb approaching. But that would be silly, since the meteor would be travelling faster than the sound it generated by its passage. Right??
“We’re away!” and in that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was experiencing teleport with the colorfully clothed scientist, or the meteor hit the shop with me inside. The sounds and sensations probably would have been the same either way.
Then, I saw and heard nothing. Couldn’t feel anything either. Couldn’t even tell how long it was like this. Just knew I was awake and alert. Unable to experience anything. Then, reality came back. Or, rather we came back to a reality. Note, I’m saying “A” reality. Because MY reality didn’t make provision for dimensional jumping people, or much of anything else fun. My reality specialized in death and taxes. That was about it. Color was bright. Almost blindingly so for the first second. And sound. That incredible freight train howl. It was there and then gone again.
Everything was blurry. I swayed back and forth a bit, and might have hit the concrete if Pariah hadn’t been holding on to my arm still. Concrete. A city block. I raised my eyes and looked upon the Hall of Justice. The 1973 Superfriends TV cartoon Hall of Justice. I felt my breath shorten. My eyes rolled back and everything went dark.
“THIS is our help??” a voice grumbled, a voice I knew quite well. From a cartoon. George Newbern; the voice of superman for many years. I opened my eyes to see Superman hovering over me. Not LITTERLLY hovering, but, concerned hovering. In this reality, he looked like a cross between Kirk Alyn and Christopher Reeves. Leaning more towards Reeves. I just thanked god silently he didn’t look and sound like Brandon Routh. I would have had to leave.
“Help?” I murmured, sitting up. “I don’t know how much help I can be to the Justice League.”
“That’s what we’d like to know.” Kevin Conroy’s voice. The Batman. I turned to look as the Dark Knight stepped from the shadows in the large room. He was built like Superman, and just as tall. He didn’t really resemble any movie or TV incarnation. Just as well. They never HAD nailed that one as far as I was concerned.
“Aside from my encyclopediaic knowledge of the Justice League and DC Universe in general, prior to 1985, I really have no clue.” I shrugged, swinging my feet over the side of the cot and sitting up fully. “Sorry for the fainting spell. Quite a shock to meet you people in person.” I said ruefully.
“And why would that be?” Superman asked.
“In my universe, you don’t exist. You’re comic book, movie and TV characters, created to entertain the moronic masses.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Interesting.” Batman murmured, “So why then did Pariah bring YOU here? What help can you be to us?”
“What help do you need? What’s the problem?” I swung my feet off the cot. Superman offered his arm to help me up. I took ahold of his hand and stood. Kal-El of Krypton winced. Batman looked startled. Me too.
“That’s…some grip you have there Mister….” Superman said, drawing his hand back somewhat gingerly.
“Black. John Black. Not possible. I’m from Earth. Not Krypton or Daxam.” I looked at my own hands. Something was different. I patted myself down experimentally.
“Possibly a side effect of the differences in the Quantum Signature of his home universe, versus our own.” Mister Terrific chimed in from across the room. He seemed to be intimately involved with something on the computer in front of him. “Superman, he’s here. We must go.”
“Who? Go where?” I asked, following the heroes who were rapidly moving for the door.
“Prime.” Batman said grimly.
“Oh shit on a shingle. Superboy Prime???” I squeaked.
Superman nodded glumly. I knew why. He didn’t have the gas to tackle this alternate version of himself alone. If they were calling him Prime, it meant THIS Superman before me was post Crisis, and significantly weaker than the earlier Prime Superboy incarnation. Prime was leftover from the idiotic re-write of the DC universe, some 25 years before – Crisis on Infinite Earths. It had been the ruination of the continuum for a lot of fans. I myself didn’t read DC for many years because of it.
Superboy Prime was as powerful as the Pre-Crisis Superman. When the universes all had merged, Superman himself was re-written at about his golden age power level. Prime was never re-written. Which made him substantially more powerful than just about everyone.
“You’re going to fight him, then?” I asked.
“What else can we do?”
“Live to fight another day!!! Where’s the Green Lantern Corps???”
“Trying to scare up the help to stop Prime and Darkseid’s armies.” Batman replied tersely.
“Captain Marvel?”
“Prime beat the snot out of him. Didn’t kill him, just messed him up deliberately. Really bad.” The Flash had suddenly appeared beside us. The Wally West version. I was a Barry Allen man, myself. Another idiotic move of the First Crisis series.
“Amazo!?!”
They stopped.
“The android. I never considered it.” Mister Teriffic said thoughtfully.
“We’d have to get him from Doctor Fate’s pocket dimension.” Flash said. “I’m on it.” And the Scarlet Speedster was gone.
“FAKER!!!” a deafening roar. “PRETENDER, COME OUT AND DIE LIKE A MAN.”
Superman sighed.
“Prime.”
I looked at my hands. My body was different to me. Height was the same. But there was something. Then I saw my reflection in the doors we were approaching. I stopped, stunned. The reflection standing with these legendary heroes could not be me. I was forty one years old. Going grey. Most would have called me morbidly obese. The reflection in the door was a man massing the same as me, but, solid muscle. I looked like Lou Ferrigno when he played the Hulk on TV.
“Uh, I’ll be right back.” I turned and ran back into the Hall of Justice. Batman noted to himself, at the same speed apparently, as the Flash could move.
Superman glanced back and shrugged.
“Can’t blame the man. He’s not used to this. Truth to tell, I don’t feel much like getting my butt handed to me either…..”
***********************************************************
The toughest part was the logo. He didn’t exist in this universe. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t. So I had to create the logo from scratch. Which apparently, I could do at super-speed. Relief. I added the flourish of doing the logo as a needle-point instead of an iron on. I stripped right there and changed clothes.
***********************************************************
The thud was sickening as Superboy Prime pummled this universe’ Superman. Bones could actually be heard to break. Batman winced, watching helplessly as Kal-El swayed drunkenly, trying to stay upright. Someone throw in the towel, he thought. But this was a fight to the death.
“HEY! PANSY-BOY.” Batman turned to look and see the newcomer striding from the Hall of Justice, wearing a red suit with a strange logo on the front. Suddenly, he had a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. One he knew well. The Dark Knight spun to find Pariah was standing beside him, a VERY uncharacteristic smile on his face.
“What’s there to be happy about?” Batman snarled, as Superman dropped to his knees.
“Watch. You’re actually going to enjoy this.” The scientist replied gleefully.
Prime glared at the newcomer, and with less than a thought, used his heat vision on him.
****************************************************************
I saw it coming. Actually thought I was a goner. Then, it DID hit me. I was shocked by the impact of Superboy Prime’s Heat Vision. It actually…..tickled???
Casually, I continued walking, right up to where Superman lay at his counterpart’s feet. Prime stopped firing, stunned that I still existed. Gently, I picked up the fallen hero and walked him back to Batman and Mister Terrific and Pariah, who’s SMILE disturbed me greatly.
“Here ya go. My turn. Nice to have met you all. Time to get my ass kicked.”
“You shrugged off his heat vision!!” Mister Teriffic hissed, “You’re at LEAST his equal. Maybe stronger. THAT’S why Pariah brought you here!!!”
I looked at the harbinger of doom for the DC Universe. He was still smiling broadly. I started to grin pretty stupidly myself. Turning, I walked quickly back to the still stunned Superboy.
“I’ve never started a fight in my life. You’ll have to hit me first.” I said calmly.
The blow was beyond lightning fast. There was enough power behind it to shatter a mountain. I moved my jaw slightly. It felt like it might bruise. It actually hurt. But, not dehabilitatingly so. Prime was now looking at me in awe.
“NOW, my turn.” I deliberately moved forward and stepped on his foot, pinning him to the spot. He was shorter than I, mainly because of his age. 17- maybe 18 years old. Not quite at full size for Superman. Then I cut loose. The first blows landing handily. His nose was bloodied, his eye blacked, I think I even chipped one of his teeth. Then the staggering refugee from a dead universe freed himself from my foot and took to the sky.
I looked back at Batman and the others as they ministered to Superman.
“Don’t just stand there! Go AFTER him!!!” Batman roared.
Startled, I looked up at the rapidly dwindling dot that was my enemy. Could I fly, too? Was it too much to hope for? I went into a low crouch, and sprang upwards, shrieking as I took to the air like an Apollo Rocket Booster.
I FELT like Ralph Hinckley as I desperately tried to right my flight and go in the direction of my target. It took precious seconds to do. And when I finally did manage some small amount of control, he was gone. I squinted, looking around desperately realizing I had telescopic vision, too. To no avail.
My landing was more comical than my takeoff. The crater where I hit headfirst, again screaming, was deep enough, so that only my feet stuck out about ground level. It was rather mortifying……
The only saving grace was the sound of Superman’s hysterical laughter, combined with his painful yelps.
“HAHAHAHAHa…OWWW..hahahah..ow ow ow!!!”
“I don’t think it’s very funny.” I grumbled loudly, crawling out of the pit, spitting out a mouthful or gravel and dusting myself off.
Batman nodded.
“I don’t either. Now, Darkseid will know we’ve got an Ace in the Hole. It will give him time to fallback, regroup and come up with something. Whatever it is, you know it will be even LESS pleasant than Prime. And YOU Sir, despite the obvious power level, have no experience.”
Pariah nodded amiably. “True. But YOU all can teach him the basics. There’s enough time for that.”
Curiously, I turned my gaze on Superman, who was still being supported by Mister Terrific and Batman. I squinted, suddenly able to see broken ribs, which were already knitting themselves together. His battered countenance also was healing rapidly.
I nodded in satisfaction. My powers seemed to duplicate his. Just greater. Greater even, than Superboy Prime’s. Which meant I was probably on a level with the Superman of MY youth, the late 60s and early 70s. BEFORE the Sandcreature had drained off about a third of his strength. Superior to Prime. Superior by far, even to Darkseid. But I was going to have to be VERY careful. I didn’t know how to use or control even a fraction of what I was capable of here. It seems the choice of the Greatest American Hero costume really WAS apropos. I was going to be a royal screw-up for a while. *sigh* SO what ELSE was new…
“Let’s get inside. We’ve got some time. You guys have a Danger Room or something? I need to practice….”
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