Countdown (14 page)

27 AND COUNTING.

METROPOLIS. EARTH-THREE.

The
eldritch chanting of the spirits still echoed in Donna’s ears as the newly christened Challengers of the Unknown suddenly found themselves standing on a rooftop overlooking a brightly lit modem city. Neon signs garishly adorned towering skyscrapers and casinos. Horns honked impatiently in the streets below. A blimp drifted by overhead, advertising an X-Treme Wrestling tournament. Although the sky was clear, the weather felt like fall—and much cooler than the microscopic jungle world they had just departed.

“We’re back on Earth,” she realized. “But which Earth?” The Monitor consulted a display screen upon his right gauntlet. “The third,” he informed them soberly. He glanced around at their surroundings. “This is their Metropolis.”
Of course,
Donna thought. Scanning the skyline, she spotted the Daily Planet Building to the south. Much like the other buildings in the vicinity, it seemed gaudier than the Metropolis she was familiar with, more like Vegas or Hub City than the Big Apricot. Lottery numbers flashed upon an illuminated ticker running along the equator of the spinning bronze globe atop the newspaper’s corporate headquarters. Gazing down from the rooftop, she spied a proliferation of strip clubs, liquor stores, gun shops, and graffiti. The open display of vice reminded her of Jimmy Stewart’s nightmarish glimpse of his hometown in
It’s a Wonderful Life
—after all the good he’d done had disappeared. She scowled in disapproval.
Surely Ray Palmer wouldn’t choose this ugly mirror world as his new home?

“Hey, Donna.” Jason gestured with his thumb at something behind them. “Check this out.”

Donna realized belatedly that they had landed in front of an enormous billboard bearing an oversized photo of a glamorous, raven-haired woman wearing a ruby-studded tiara. A black leather choker adorned the model’s throat above a generous display of cleavage. Crime Pays! proclaimed the huge block letters printed 011 the billboard. The jarring motto, as well as the cruelly seductive look on the woman’s face, kept Donna from identifying the subject of the portrait right away. “By the gods,” she gasped as she finally recognized her sister’s classically beautiful features, “is that Diana?”

Vandals had defaced the billboard, spray-painting a bright red mustache and whiskers onto the woman’s smirking face. A scrawled message, Slime Preys! provided a terse rebuttal to the sign’s original message.

“I suppose you think that’s funny?” an indignant female voice challenged them from above.

Spinning around, Donna looked up to see three costumed figures hovering in the air above them. The newcomers resembled distorted versions of Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. The latter was clearly the woman from the billboard, minus the painted-on facial hair. Hands on her hips, she glared down at the Challengers, clearly unamused by the mischief done to her portrait. In place of Wonder Woman’s star-spangled uniform, she wore the tight leather gear of a professional dominatrix. A silver lasso dangled from her belt.

“Huh?” Jason blurted. “Is this the Justice League of this world?”

“Actually,” the Monitor informed them calmly, “they’re the exact opposite. Meet the Crime Society of America.”
Crime Society?
Donna thought.
That doesn’t sound good.. ..

The black-clad woman laughed harshly. “Did you hear that. Ultraman, Owlman? They think we care about ‘justice.’” She sneered at the very notion. “Have you ever heard anything so absurd?”

“Of course not, Superwoman.” Instead of a bright red S, Ultraman bore a scarlet U upon his chest. Otherwise, he was a dead ringer for Superman, aside from his cold eyes and surly expression. His red cape flapped in the breeze. His fists were clenched at his sides. “Who wants justice when revenge is so much more satisfying?”

’ “Like you know anything about satisfying your wife,” Owlman taunted his teammate. Large round lenses protruded above the sharp beak of his cowl. A heavy-caliber pistol was holstered to the hip of his intimidating gray body armor. A wide-eyed owl-emblem was embossed upon his chest. Apparently unable to defy gravity on his own, the masked villain swooped through the air by means of artificial glider-wings. “I thought that was my department!” Ultraman’s face flushed with anger; the gibe had obviously hit a nerve. He unleashed a blast of heat vision at Owlman, who banked out of the way only heartbeats before being singed. “Watch your mouth,” Superman’s evil doppelganger fumed, “before I weld it shut!”

Owlman reached for his gun.

“Now, now, boys!” Superwoman flew between the two men, physically holding them apart. “You can fight over me later.” She nodded at Donna and the others. “Right now I’ve got a score to settle with these three!”

“Wait!” Donna protested. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding!” She held up empty hands. “We’re just looking for our friend!”

“Well, you’ve found an enemy!” Satisfied that her jeal-

BBMTDIim 11!

ous husband was no longer going to tear Owlman apart, Superwoman dived at Donna with phenomenal speed. Before Donna knew it, the other woman’s fist was squeezing her throat. Sheer momentum carried them off the rooftop into the open air high above the pavement. “I don’t know where you’re from, Sparkles, but there’s one thing you should know.” Superwoman’s blue eyes gleamed maliciously. “Around here, evil always triumphs over good!”

Meanwhile,
Ultraman targeted the Monitor. “You look like an alien!” Grabbing on to the top of the billboard, he ripped it from its foundations, then hurled it down at the armored extraterrestrial. “I
hate
aliens!”

Undaunted by the villain’s attack, the Monitor incinerated the falling billboard with a blast from his gauntlet. Superwoman’s vandalized portrait went up in flames. “This altercation is getting us nowhere,” the Monitor complained. “I shall continue our search in a less distracting environment.”

He vanished in a shimmer of light, much to the aggravation of Ultraman, whose flying fists passed harmlessly through the empty space the alien had occupied only instants before. “Spoken like a true coward!”

I’ll say,
Jason thought, as he watched the Monitor abandon them.
Thanks for nothing, creep!

It looked like Ultraman would be coming after Jason next, but the caped villain suddenly cocked his head to one side. “Hang on,” he said irritably. “Sounds like my wife bit off more than she could chew.” Alerted by his super-hearing, he cast a scornful glance at Jason before flying off after Donna and Superwoman. “This punk’s all yours, Owlman.” “Fine with me,” the other villain said. In the shadow of a looming water tower, Owlman touched down onto the rooftop in front of Jason. His collapsible glider-wings folded compactly beneath his arms. “You know, you kind of look like my sidekick, Talon,” he told Jason. “I think I’m going to enjoy beating you to a pulp!”

“Please!” lason replied sarcastically. “You’re nothing but a second-rate Batman.”

“No.” The Darker Knight plucked a silver capsule from his Utility Belt and tossed it at Jason. “You are.”

The capsule exploded against Jason’s chest, releasing a cloud of thick yellow gas. Jason clamped his jaws shut, holding his breath, but it was no use. The caustic fumes invaded his nostrils and throat. Tears streamed from his burning eyes, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. The rooftop seemed to spin around him as an overpowering sense of dizziness turned his limbs to rubber. Nauseous, he dropped onto the sooty, tar-papered roof.

Owlman straddled his prone body. Grabbing Jason roughly by the collar, he rolled the helpless vigilante onto his back. A serrated razorang appeared in his hand. “Your intestines should make a nice Father’s Day gift for Commissioner Wayne,” he hooted. “I’ll have to remember to include a card.”

“I don’t think so,” Donna said. Her silver bracelets flashed in the moonlight as she seized Owlman by his cowl and flung him dozens of feet into the air. He let out a startled cry before crashing through a neon sign over a block away. Sparks and broken glass cascaded down onto the city streets.

Jason blinked at Donna through watery eyes.
Boy, am I glad to see you!

She knelt beside him. “Jason! Are you okay?” Concern shone in her striking blue eyes. She leaned over him and, for a second, he thought (hoped?) that she might give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, but the moment passed and she simply helped him sit up instead. “Wow.” He coughed, concealing his disappointment. His head began to clear as he took a couple of deep breaths of oxygen. “You really care.”

“Gee, we’re not interrupting anything, are we?” Ultraman and Superwoman landed heavily on the rooftop. Jason saw that the female villain looked a little worse for wear. Blood dripped from a fat lip, while her own lasso

was tightly lashed around her wrists. Ultraman smirked, seemingly enjoying his wife’s humiliation, while he untied her. She glared furiously at Donna.

“I underestimated you before, slut, but I’m ready for you this time.” Freed from her bonds, Superwoman cracked the lasso like a bullwhip. Sizzling red heat-rays shot from her eyes, starding Donna, who barely managed to deflect the blasts with her bracelet in time. “Your tricky Amazon moves won’t save you much longer!”

Whoa, there!
Jason thought, scrambling to his feet. A wave of dizziness rushed over him and he grabbed on to Donna’s shoulder for support.
Where’d those eye-beams come from ? Diana can’t do that back on our Earth!

“How ’bout we tear them apart like wishbones?” Ultraman suggested. Neither of the villains appeared terribly concerned about Owlman’s fate. “Whichever of us ends up with the smaller halves has to submit to the other in our Fortress of Depravity.”

Superwoman’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, I like that idea. You’re on!” She rubbed her hands together in wicked anticipation. “The girl first!”

“On three,” Ultraman said. “One, two ...”

Jason didn’t like where this was going.
Somebody wake me up from this nightmare.

“Three!” ‘

The sadistic couple lunged toward the two Challengers, only to smack headfirst into a glowing camelian force field that materialized from out of nowhere. Accompanied by his trademark transporter effect, the Monitor reappeared before Donna and Jason.

How about that?
Jason thought.
He didn’t ditch us after all.

“I’ve scoured this Earth’s resources,” he reported calmly, as though a pair of bloodthirsty super-villains wasn’t seconds away from playing tug-of-war with the two humans’ flesh and bones. “Ray Palmer is not here, at least not the one we seek.”

Jason wondered what kind of microscopic sicko passed for the Atom on this twisted planet.
Probably some sort of human vims or bacteria,
he guessed.
Or maybe the world’s tiniest Peeping Tom.

“Our continued presence here is unnecessary.” The Monitor entered a new set of coordinates into his gauntlet. “We’re leaving.”

“Dammit!” Ultraman swore from the other side of the force field. His fists pounded uselessly against the barrier. “We haven’t killed you yet!”

Frustrated by his failure, Superwoman lashed her husband with her lasso. “You’re letting them get away!”
Sorry, freaks,
Jason thought.
You’re going to have to take out your disappointment on each other.

The transporter carried the Challengers away.

IS AND COUNTING.

Hi EAIIBBEAH.

“Riahc, esira!”

The deck chair lifted off the stage, carrying a nervous-looking volunteer from the audience. White knuckles gripped the seat of the chair while the ten-year-old’s sandaled feet dangled over ten feet above the boards. A packed audience gasped in appreciation, then let loose an enthusiastic round of applause. Performing in the onboard theater of a cruising luxury liner, Zatanna took a bow. A live band struck up a spirited rendition of “Witchy Woman.”

Zee sure knows how to put on a show,
Mary thought. Inconspicuously seated in a back row, she joined in the applause. The floor rolled gently beneath her. Since dropping in uninvited on the SS
Lemaris,
she’d learned a thing or three about cruise ships. One, it was a cinch to sneak aboard when you could fly. Two, on a boat full of tourists living out of their suitcases, almost anything passed as evening wear, even her slinky new costume. Three, they sometimes booked top talent for their passengers’ entertainment.

Zatanna Zatara (her real name, believe it or not) was probably the world’s most famous female magician. Her trademark top hat, tails, and fishnet stockings had been mimicked by countless imitators, but there remained only one Zatanna.
“Nruter ot roolf! ”
she commanded the levitating chair, reciting the words of the incantation in reverse. The footlights lit up her sapphire eyes and glossy black hair. The chair touched down upon the stage, and the pint-sized volunteer wasted no time hopping off the seat. “Thanks for your help, Tommy,” Zatanna said warmly. She treated the audience to a dazzling smile. “Let’s give our brave volunteer a hand!”

Look at her,
Mary thought, clapping along with the others.
Hiding in plain sight.
Probably only Mary knew that Zatanna’s magic was no mere trickery; it was the genuine article.
Nobody here has any idea how powerful she really is.
When she wasn’t performing onstage, Zatanna often used her mystical gifts to defend humanity from all manner of occult menaces.
I could learn a lot from Zee. . . .

Back in Gotham, the Riddler had suggested that Mary needed a mentor. As much as she hated to admit it, he might have had a point. And who knew more about combining magic and heroism than Zatanna? The showbiz sorceress had even once been part of the Justice League.

“Aw, puh-leeze!” a heckler jeered from one row behind Mary. A vodka martini sloshed in his hand. Mary could smell the alcohol on his breath even from a couple of seats away. “We can all see you did it with wires!” He hollered loudly at the stage, slurring his words. “Nice try, darlin’, but your talent’s all in your legs!”