by Libbylawrence
Earth-One:
Meg Tempest was often described as perky, and for good reason. The ex-beauty queen knew she owed much of her success as a reporter to her looks and personality. People liked her. They gave her time when they might have ignored an ugly reporter. Still, even Meg felt it was not that easy to be cheerful when covering a tanker oil spill in high winds. She questioned the crew and received some good comments from the heroic Sea Devils, who had been the first to arrive to aid the damaged tanker. She smiled as her photographer clicked several shots of the beautiful, bikini-clad Judy Walton.
“Miss Walton, you and Dane and the rest of the Sea Devils have taken a real stand on clean waters and protecting marine life. Does that mean you approve of some of the more militant groups out there with the same goal but with questionable means?” she asked.
Judy frowned and said, “The Sea Devils are, in spite of our colorful name, on the side of law and order. We want to promote a peaceful awareness of environmental concerns. If our costumes and gear attract media attention, then that’s fine with us.”
Meg thanked her and just turned to tell her Daily Planet photographer that they had enough material, when the waters surged, and she gasped to see a craft emerge out of the waters. “Oh, my! That’s no Coast Guard vessel! Almost looks like the Scavenger’s weird ship!” cried Meg.
The red vessel emerged from the ocean, looking for all the world like a gigantic lobster with artificial claw-like extensions that now reached out toward where Meg and Judy stood. Meg gasped as the claws scooped them up and dangled them in the air over the ship and the sea.
The heroic Dane Dorrance rushed forward to try to free his partner as her brother Nicky Walton and their pal Biff Bailey stopped their clean-up work to help as well. “Hang on, Judy!” cried Dane as Judy struggled in the claw’s grip, as did Meg.
“Help!” cried Meg.
A red and blue figure swooped down and pried the claws away from both women. A gentle puff of super-breath allowed them a soft landing. “Superman! Thank goodness!” cried Meg.
Dane helped the two women flee as the Man of Steel turned to face the weird lobster craft. “Aren’t you considerably out of season?” he joked as he hovered in the air and allowed red laser beams to bounce off his chest harmlessly. The next thing he did was slam both hands together. The sonic backlash shattered the lobster craft’s eyes, and he flew inside to gather the surprised crew.
“Miss Tempest, I heard enough of your earlier comments from where I was patrolling to hear your mention of the Scavenger. I would have agreed with your deduction, but apparently we were both wrong,” he said, gesturing toward the angry crew whom he had trapped in a huge fishing net. The primitive-looking humanoids who had operated the lobster craft had pale yellow skin, long white hair, and webbed hands and feet, and wore nothing but loincloths. They cursed and muttered as he watched.
“Thank you, Superman!” gushed Meg.
Dane nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’d hate to have fought this bunch without your muscle.”
The leader of the crew, an older primitive with a long white beard, a fearsome, monstrous face, and a regal bearing, stared up at them in dismay. “That emblem!” he whispered to one of his subjects. “He was one of those who liberated our world! No wonder we failed against his might.”
Superman’s keen ears caught his words, and he frowned. Liberated his world? he thought. From just where do these would-be pirates originate?
***
Green Arrow was annoyed. His efforts to help the gorgeous blonde by his side had met with dismissal and a sharp reply of, “Don’t baby me, Arrow. That kook Paragon got lucky, but I’m fine now. We took care of him and his scheme for a new master race.” (*)
[(*) Editor’s note: See “The Supremacy Factor,” Justice League of America #224 (March, 1984).]
The Ace Archer shrugged as the Black Canary revved up her cycle. “I know!” he said. “Kill a guy for caring! Sheesh! You gals want a guy to be all Alan Alda one minute, then get up on your women’s lib soapbox the next!”
Black Canary kissed him and said, “Right. You can’t live with us, and you can’t take us in a fair fight!”
She drove off as Green Arrow grinned ruefully. Some woman I got there, he thought.
Firing an arrow-line to the building across the street, he was about to swing off when something caught his keen eyes. It was a flash of color reflected in a store display high above one of Star City’s commercial districts. Green Arrow frowned. “That’s no disco ball floating in midair, and there sure ain’t any Bee Gees around. I better check that out.”
Running around the block, he soon realized the source of the illuminations. A burly man wearing a robe was generating the bright flashes as he helped himself to the contents of a jewelry store display window. “Melted the glass with one of those weird rings he’s wearing,” muttered the archer. “Okay, Ringo, time to call it a hard day’s night and let this hard knight make his day!” he joked.
The man whirled and smiled. “Ah, that bow! Spider, how you’ve changed.” He gestured, and the ten rings he wore shone in the moonlight. He aimed his hands toward Green Arrow, and multi-colored rays blasted forward, seemingly from his fingertips.
Green Arrow rolled aside even as he fired several shafts toward the smirking robber. A magnetic arrow passed perfectly between the man’s outstretched hands, and he gasped as his rings of power were drawn together and shorted themselves out while nearly roasting his hands in the process.
Racing over, Green Arrow drew the net air tighter as he scooped up the stunned foe who was fervently rubbing his pained fingers. “So what’s with this Spider jazz?” he asked.
“I thought you were the Spider,” said the confused villain. “He’s the finest archer I’ve seen — before tonight! He beat me before, and I just assumed you to be him in a new costume.”
“Spider? Never heard of the guy,” said a frowning Green Arrow.
***
Black Canary herself encountered trouble when she drove by a local dive called the Star Bar. Hearing cries for help, she spotted two police officers who had responded to a disturbance of the peace call being hurled through the glass window. She had picked up the call moments earlier on her own special cycle and knew why they had been summoned.
She stopped and raced forward to tend to their injuries. As the daughter of a cop, or at the very least a granddaughter of a cop with memories of having been a daughter of a cop, the Blonde Bombshell cared deeply for the men and women in blue. She knew that what she had only recently learned about her own somewhat-muddled origins made such relationships problematic to say the least. (*)
[(*) Editor’s note: See “The Doppelgänger Gambit,” Justice League of America #220 (November, 1983).]
“Thank goodness. They’ll be okay in time,” she mused.
Glancing up at a looming shadow, she saw their attacker, a huge bald brute with a black leather costume who had crept up to her from behind. Leering down at her, he reached out for her with one of his beefy hands.
Blocking his hand quickly, Black Canary said, “Keep your hands to yourself, pal.” With a spin, she delivered three swift kicks to his chin.
The brute reeled backward but did not fall. With a frown, she realized that she had her work cut out for her. He swung a hard right, and she ducked before chopping out at his pressure points. As he bent over in pain, she sang her canary cry. The sonic song stunned the brute so that he staggered and fell forward.
Rolling in a tight ball out of his path, she jumped up with a satisfied smile as he pitched forward and moved no more. She glanced at his stylized jacket and read a name.
“The ‘Beast of Berlin,’ huh? Well, this beauty just tamed you, Mr. Beast!” she laughed.
***
Hawkman knew he could lose himself in his work at times, but not to the extent that he could overlook a huge change in the weather. So as thunder shook the Midway City Museum, he put down his pen and rose to look out the window, only to see nothing but clear skies.
“By Polaris! The thunder’s not coming from the sky. It’s coming from that man!” he said, frowning. “Too bad Shiera is on a purchasing trip. She’d get a kick out of this one,” he mused.
Suiting up as Hawkman, he spoke rapidly to the birds circling around the sky. “Wheet! Where did the man below come from?” he asked in their language.
The nearest bird replied, “Wheet! He makes great noise. His call frightens us.”
Hawkman nodded and swooped lower. He detected a man in bulky yellow and blue armor, and even a mind that could access all the data of the electronic brain at will could not place the man who generated the thunderous sounds. Seems to be a new one, he mused. They do come out of the woodwork here on Earth. Thanagar had its Thrill Thieves, but on Earth motives range from revenge, to profit, to honoring a day of the week!
“Stop! Your rampage ends here!” cried Hawkman.
The Thunderer laughed. “Black Condor? I had hoped to kill a Blackhawk, but any bird will do.”
Hawkman recognized both the references and the man’s accent, but ignored them for now. “Your thunderous attack might be less effective beneath water!” he said. Swooping low, he suddenly grabbed the man by his belt, towing him skyward, then hurled him into the now-empty Midway City Public Pool. The resultant explosion emptied the pool, revealing the Thunderer’s stunned expression as well.
“I figured that built-in device in his armor would short out under water,” said Hawkman to himself as he waved to cheering crowds. “His insulated armor must have given him the added bulk and protected him from serious injury.”
The Thunderer spoke of the Blackhawks and the Black Condor, he mused. While we have — or had — both on this Earth, neither would be likely to have encountered this unknown villain without the Electric Brain registering something about him. I think I just defeated a visitor from Earth-X!