In Pittsburgh, Commander Justice Jr. dashed to the jewelry store with its door hanging wide open. This call on the police scanner sounded like one Janus was sure to answer. Where is he?

A tied up man and a woman flew through the air and landed on the pavement.

Janus stepped out of the store. He posed for the security cameras. “That’ll teach you.”

The male thief said, “Aye, Guvnor, ye dun need to be beatin’ us up. We was ready to give up the moment we saw ye.”

Commander Jr. smirked. “That wouldn’t have been becoming for Jan’s ego. He wants to show that under all that Maybelline, he’s as tough as any guy.”

Janus glared. “You want a beat down?”

Commander Jr. stared back hard. “Dude, you challenged me.”

“But the ol’ cap said you couldn’t.”

“It’s his day off.”  Thanks to you, Jan. Junior clinched his fist.

Janus clenched his fists. “All right, let’s get it on.”

“Not here. There’s a lot of expensive stuff around here, as well as people who have nothing to do with this fight.”

“So?”

“How’d you like to see footage of us tearing this place apart uploaded to YouTube?”

“Good point.”

“On the way here, I passed a partially built construction project. We can take an elevator up to the top.”

“Oh, but that’s such a clichéd superhero battleground.”

Commander Jr. smirked. “Glad that you approve. Come on. It’s about three blocks.”

The two walked out of the jewelry store and passed the Volt Commander Jr. had rented.

Janus pointed.  “Hey, this your car?”

“Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about getting one.”

“Well, the Volt’s a good model.”

“I want to get an electric or a hybrid for my next car.”

Remind me to buy an SUV. “Any reason that you’re stalling?”

Janus laughed. “I figured, after this, we’ll find common ground, work together. Like Robin Hood and Little John.”

“Or Dark Mystic and the Sword.”

This kept Janus silent until they reached the construction site. Commander Jr. pressed the button by an elevator shaft. “It won’t open.”

Janus pressed another button. “Genius, that’s because they haven’t put in the elevator on that side yet. This one will take us up.”

The elevator door opened. Janus extended his hands out. “After you.”

Commander Jr. said, “I insist, after you.”

Janus smiled. “Very well.”

Commander Jr. got in the elevator after Janus did.

“Thirty-six floors,” Janus said. “Not quite The Pharaoh v. The Sword, but it’ll have to do. So how has your day been?”

As if this clown didn’t know. “I’m hot on the trail of Dark Mystic, but we just missed him, and we don’t have a clue where he is.”

Janus shook his head. “That’s too bad.”

The elevator dinged and the door opened.

Commander Jr.  said, “But you do.”

Janus eyes went wide. Commander Jr.  gave a first right cross to the jaw, sending Janus flying out the door. Commander Jr. heaved. “That was for Captain Justice, you punk.”

Janus puffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what.”

Janus charged. Commander Jr. jumped out of the way. Janus jumped on top of him.

Commander Jr. kicked Janus off. “You sabotaged the Justicemobile. We caught you on a surveillance camera. I got an e-mail with the video attached just after leaving Markum’s.”

Janus got up. “You think I’d be stupid enough to go there? You’d recognize me.” Janus lifted his fist in the air. “Come on, tough guy.”

Commander Jr. moved in, hands raised, bobbing and weaving. “Of course you didn’t go dressed like this. You wore blue coveralls.”

Janus sent a jab at his jaw.

Commander Jr. dodged and delivered a left hook to Janus’s shoulder. Janus stepped back. “Coveralls? Not my style.”

Commander Jr. kicked Janus’s solar-plexus. Janus grabbed his leg, threw him to the ground, and jumped on his back. Commander Jr. tossed Janus like a six-year-old thrown off a mechanical bull.

Commander Jr. panted. “You added your touch. A hood would’ve worn work gloves, but you wore your golden nylon gloves.”

Janus stood up. “Oh please, that would never stand up in court.”

“The only court we’re in is the court of my fists. And then there was the scene at Markum’s place. You know what we found?”

Janus slammed into Commander Jr. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Commander Jr. pushed back and knocked Janus over. “The feds didn’t know what it was until I put it together. It was gold latex paint, just like you wear.”

Janus stood and ran towards the elevator, Commander Justice, Jr. behind him. Janus ripped off the vacant elevator shaft’s door and threw it at Commander Jr. He dodged and continued to advance. Janus delivered a kick to his ribs. Pain ripped through him, and he collapsed, fighting to get air back into his lungs.

“Kid, I had high hopes for you. Might have been able to turn you, and you’d be my second in the new order.  But you’re too smart, and now you’re a complication that has to be eliminated.”

Get to your feet, D.J. This guy’s gonna kill you.

He stood. Janus lunged, knocking him back to the ground. Janus landed on top and began to use his face for a speed bag. Commander Jr. kicked Janus in the stomach and threw the guy off. He stood as Janus did and ran at Janus. He aimed a jump kick at Janus’ jaw.

Big mistake.

Janus grabbed his leg and spun him. Is Janus moving fast or did the world just speed up?

The granola bar Commander Jr. grabbed at the airport began to rebel.

It stopped. He was hanging upside down in the vacant elevator shaft.

Janus sighed. “Goodbye, kid.” Janus’s grip loosened on his legs.

Commander Justice Jr. hurtled head first towards the concrete thirty-six floors below.

So much for living two hundred years.

This concludes the web serial version of this story. The continuation of the Story Line is available is Laser and Sword, Issues 8 and 9 with the conclusion in the upcoming Issue 10.

The Sword drew his blade and walked into the cave where Dark Mystic had killed Ice Cube. “Mystic, show yourself.”

Dark Mystic stepped from the shadows. He held a flame thrower pointed at the Sword. The Sword frowned. “Is this a truce or a battle?”

Dark Mystic laughed. “Jesse, I believe you drew first. Personally, I’d prefer a truce.”

That voice. It wasn’t the demon’s guttural speech. Jesse stared. “Ian.”

“Let’s get out of this cave.”

The Sword followed Dark Mystic outside. Dark Mystic said, “You didn’t bring anyone.”

“I know how to keep a truce.”

“Then perhaps we should put our weapons away. Allow me to go first.” Dark Mystic tucked his flamethrower’s business end into the tank.

Dare he trust Mystic?

What choice did he have?

The Sword sheathed his blade.

Dark Mystic flashed a half smile. “Come, let us talk of many things.”

Continued Next Monday.

Be sure to check out Tales of the Dim Knight now available from Splashdown books.

Ian Bucknell sat as he had for months in his own personal Hell of his own mind as his ever-present demonic symbiot raged.

“You fool!” Jalzabel growled. “If not for our forces at Squall’s bank tipping us off, and the good work Janus here did, we would all be in custody.”

Janus shrugged. “I wouldn’t, but that was sloppy. If you’d set up a recurring payment for all of these, no one would have noticed.”

Markum scowled at him. “Electric bills vary.”

“You could’ve accessed the bank from behind a proxy.”

“Ricky, you were a washed up, starving artist when I found you.”

“I paid the bills working in tech support.”

“My apologies for being technically adept.”

Janus sniffed. “Jalzabel and I have decided it would be good if more than one person knew how to operation the trans-dimensional portal.”

Markum smirked. “I could show you. Provided I were a naïve college Satanist.”

“I was just wanting to—”

“Give me a break. I don’t take of-fense that you want to kill me. Survival of the fittest is the rule. But insulting my intelligence does offend me. Ricky boy, I get it. I’m a complication.”

Janus gaped. “I’d never—”

Markum slapped Janus across the chops. “I told you not to insult my intel-ligence! The Feds will be all over me. It’s only a matter of time until they find out about my majority holdings in RJ Max-well and they may notice RJ Maxwell’s stake in your comic books. I doubt it. Most don’t think of comic books as crim-inal enterprises, but you may get hit. It’d be so much easier if you could kill me, set it up so I’m Mr. Big, and then the investi-gation will end. Your problem is I’m the only one alive who knows how to operate the portal. That’s why I sacrificed Dr. Squall as a burnt offering.”

Jalzabel said, “If my plan works, this will be the last day we need to use the portal.”

Markum laughed. “I send Western Union payments to four attorneys. If they stop getting my payments, they’ll send enough information to Sword Comics and Fox News to bury Golden Boy here.”

“Western Union?” Janus snickered. “Yeah, that way it can’t be traced back to your checking account. If only you’d been that cautious paying everybody.”

Markum smirked.

Ian felt the sickening feeling in his stomach that was Jalzabel’s notion of pleas-ure. Markum’s hubris was like candy.

Markum reached in a cabinet and re-moved a vial. “There’s no reason for us to fight, Ricky boy. We’re buddies, ain’t we? Come here.”

Janus edged closer. “What?”

“Do you remember what I told you to stay away from?”

“Yeah, orange juice.”

“It was a longer list than that.”

“I think you included anything citrus.”

“Did I ever tell you why?”

Janus shook his head.

“Citric acid is your kryptonite, my friend. A glass of OJ will make you sick to your stomach. Good news is, it’d take ten gallons of OJ to kill you. However—” Markum popped the core off the vial and threw the contents at Janus’s cheek.

Janus covered his eyes. The vial hit his cheek and orange liquid splashed across his face. Janus collapsed, screaming.

Markum continued. “Even a small amount of pure citric acid on you, and you have minutes to live.”

“You’re jeopardizing everything!” Jal-zabel screamed.

Markum smiled. “No, fearless leader, the dying process can be reversed if the citric acid is removed soon enough.”

Janus cried, “Get this horrid stuff off me. I can’t even move.”

Markum folded his arms. “Beg me.”

Janus screamed. “Please!”

“Please, who?”

Janus coughed. “Please, Master!”

Markum bent over and wiped off the liquid with a handkerchief. “Come, Ricky boy. Let me treat that. We wouldn’t want to mar your pretty face.”

Markum helped Janus up and then put his hands on Janus’ shoulders. “Remember, I made you. I can break you.”

Ian’s stomached rolled at Jalzabel’s massive pleasure.

Continued Next Monday.

Be sure to check out Tales of the Dim Knight now available from Splashdown books.

Junior stood outside Zach Wallace’s down-town New York office. Junior picked up his cell phone. The caller ID indicated it was Grandpa.

“Hey, Junior, how goes it?”

“Just finished filling out the property loss forms for the Justicemobile, and I’m headed to see Zach Wallace. How are you?”

“Hospital food is awful. They say I’ve got a couple cracked ribs, so I’m gonna take it easy, and come back tomorrow.”

“Grandpa, are you crazy?”

“Hey, we’re on a cell phone, use Captain.”

“Okay, Captain, are you crazy?”

“Nah, we heal quick. Check under your bandages. You’ll find your wounds are gone.”

“I found that out this morning.”

“I’ll be good as new tomorrow morning. At least good enough to keep up with the rookie.” Captain Justice slurped some liquid. “The reason I called is that Sariah Miller thinks Janus knows where the Sword is.”

Junior clucked his tongue. “I could buy that. But what does she base it on?”

“She believes he was lying when he said the Sword was dead.”

“That wouldn’t hold up in court.”

“We’re not getting a search warrant. If I’ve learned anything, its to never discount woman’s intuition.”

“Let me check with Zach and see if he can give us something more concrete.”

After the usual pleasantries, Junior hung up and walked into the plush office with, “Zachary Wallace, Consultant” on the door in gold block letters. Junior strode past a couple of Wallace’s assistants and got in the elevator.

On the third floor, Junior got out and walk-ed down a posh hall to the door marked, “Zach Wallace. Private.”

Junior knocked.

“Come on in.”

Junior walked in. Zach sat behind the desk, dressed to the nines in a three piece suit with his hair held back in a tidy ponytail and his goatee well-trimmed. The Aussie stood and extended his hand. “Gooday, Commander Junior. Can I get you somethin’ to wet your whistle?”

“No, thank you.” Anything he was served here would lead to another plastic container in the landfills of New York City. “What have you got for me?”

“Dr. Squall has been dead for six months?”

“That appears to be the case.”

“He’s a very active user of online banking for a dead man. His account has about two sign ins per month to use bill pay. That’s how the landscaper got paid, ditto the water, heating bill, credit card, and alimony.”

“So you think he’s alive?”

“Nah, mate. He’s dead all right. All normal living expenses are absent, from groceries to pet-rol. Until six months ago, everything came out of this account.”

“So someone’s signing into online banking for him. What about it?”

“Didja know you can’t pay property taxes with bill pay?”

Why would a college student care? “No.”

“Somebody paid his property taxes for him, a Mr. Lucien Markum. When I pull the logs for this fella’s online banking, the IP comes from an address outside Boston owned by Mr. Lucien Markum.”

“You got the address?”

“Right here, mate.”

Junior took the paper. “The foundation will cut your check.”

Zach shook his head. “On the house. Your dad’s a good bloke. I hope you bring him back.”

“Me too, Zach.”

Sariah Miller walked to her car.

“Ms. Miller?” said a man behind her.

Sariah turned. Janus stood behind her in all his tacky gold latex body paint glory. She said, “I’m afraid you’re at the wrong comic book company, sir.”

“No, I’m not here for business. I know you haven’t had a real man take you out since you let the Sword get away, and thought I might talk you into lunch.”

Not on your life, Golden boy. “I’m afraid you have your facts mixed up. I chose between Jesse and the Sword. I wanted a nice, boring, normal man with a steady income and regular hours. I made the mistake of falling for a superhero’s glitz once, and almost lost the love of my life. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You know, it was so tragic, losing both the Sword and Miller at the same time. “

Sariah grimaced. Jesse, your secret is less of a mystery than Brittney Spears’ wardrobe. “I took a vow that said, ‘until death do us part.’”

“We both know he’s dead.”

You can’t even lie through the gold paint. You know he’s not dead.

 “Regardless, I’ve more than had my fill of your kind. Now, unless you want me to call the cops, I’d suggest you get lost.”

“I’m a gentlemen, so I’ll leave.”

I’m keeping my pepper spray handy, creep.

Sariah got in her car and pulled out her cell phone and began to dial Captain Jus-tice’s cell.

What am I going to tell him? I think Janus knows where Jesse and the others are. On the basis of woman’s intuition.

Sariah sighed. “If it could help Jesse, I’ll give it a shot.”

Continued next Monday

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Dave Johnson scaled Mount Everest, rub-bing his pounding temples. How much longer would this take? Two weeks now of fourteen and sixteen hour days researching unusual deposits, and all he had to show for it was a slim few leads, a whole lot of dead ends, the financial profiles of 1,300 police officers that Zolgron had force fed him, and a migraine.

And worse, what if Zolgron took over totally?

He entered his bedroom and shed his janitor coveralls. The alarm clock went off. His wife yawned and sat up in bed, smiling sleepily at him. “Dave, we haven’t talked in ages.”

“I’d love to talk.” He smack off the alarm and cuddled up to Naomi.

“You’re withdrawing again. Where are you going all weekend?”

“Research.”

“But the public library’s only open to five on Saturdays, and it’s closed entirely on Sundays. Where are you researching?”

“Groton’s All Night Cyber café.”

“What are you researching that you can’t research on our computer?”

Dave hesitated. “Banking.”

Naomi arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Um, thinking about the future, you know, maybe a different job.”

“I know someone at our branch. You could probably get in as a teller.”

“I’m not certain I want to go into that. There’s a lot you need to know, like every single transaction on every single account.”

“Come on, Dave. It’s not that hard.”

Easy for her to say. Her brain wasn’t overflowing with banking information. “I want to look at other options, too. What have you been doing?”

Babble flowed out of his wife’s mouth, an auditory sledge hammer that split his skull open, or it sure felt like it, anyway. “Naomi, forget it. Can I just hold you?”

“Okay.”

He curled up closer. “You know what I like about you? You’re a human being.”

“Huh?”

“I like human beings.”

“Um, yeah.”

Dave yawned contentedly and let his heavy eyes close. When was the last time he felt this happy? He could hardly remember.

Continued Next Tuesday.

Tales of the Dim Knight is set for book Release November 22nd,  a sample e-book including the first four chapters is available for your reading pleasure. You can follow our hero on Twitter @dimknight

Commander Justice, Jr. stared over the ravine at the burning Justicemobile. Now, it’s an even worse environmental disaster.

The paramedics rolled by the gurney with Captain Justice on it. “Let me off this thing. I’ll be fine with a little bed rest.”

A paramedic said, “You’re lucky to es-cape that car alive after going over a forty foot drop.”

Captain Justice laughed. “I’m a super-hero. I once fell off a two hundred foot cliff and landed wrong. I was out for a day then defeated a band of eleven desperadoes armed with machine guns. I’m not an in-valid. Junior, reason with them.”

 “Captain, you need X-rays.” Junior stared at the bulge on his thighs beneath the tights. He was lucky to need just a couple of bandages. That and a new pair of tights when he got back to the Justice Foundation.

Junior climbed into the back of the ambulance. Captain Justice said, “I hate to do this, but we need to know who did this. You’re going to have to go solo for a day or so.”

“I can handle it.”

“Don’t say that until you know what you have to do.”

Continued next Monday

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On the way to the Justicemobile two days later, Captain Justice said, “I hope Zach’s info is worth the trip.”

Junior shrugged. “It’ll be better than what Riley had.”

“True enough.” Captain Justice got in the driver’s side with Junior sitting in the passenger seat. They drove out of the garage, down to the light, and turned onto the freeway. 

The car hit 55 mph. A click sounded.

“What was that?” asked Junior.

“Don’t know. I’ll have to take this by the dealership if it starts making noise.”

A semi truck was ahead of them in the left lane. It kept getting closer.

Junior stared at Captain Justice.  “Grandpa, hit the brakes.”

“It speeds up when I hit the brakes.”

The truck grew closer. Captain honked. The truck maintained its current speed.

Captain Justice got over to the left shoulder, driving with one wheel on the pavement and one on loose gravel. Blue highway patrol lights flashed behind them.

Junior said, “Grandpa, maneuver to the guard rail. We can jump out of the car before it goes over the embankment.”

“Sounds like we have to. Check the door.”

Junior pulled on the door handle. It only clicked. Uh oh. Junior pressed the electronic lock. “Grandpa, the door won’t open.”

“Take off your boot. Use the steel toe as a hammer to break the window.”

Junior took off his boot and broke the window. The glass sprayed away.

Junior dropped his boot and jumped out the broken window. Shards of glass cut into his thighs. He hit the ground on one foot. He turned. The car headed over the guard rail and down into the ravine.

Junior screamed. “Grandpa!”

Continued next Monday

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Outside Dr. Squall’s home, Cardin sighed. “Not a blasted clue anywhere.”

Captain Justice frowned. He found that hard to believe. “No maps? No com-puters?”

“All gone. We know something was there. The lab was full of electric outlets, plus Jaden found an eight months old ele-ctric bill for $10,000, which means they’re running something that takes a gargantuan amount of electricity.”

Junior said, “Here’s a clue. The lawn.”

Captain Justice smirked. “What? Are they not using natural fertilizer?”

“Somebody’s maintaining it. Who would maintain a dead man’s lawn when no one knows he’s dead?”

Cardin made a note on a Blackberry. “I’ll follow up on that. Good catch, son.”

Captain Justice patted Junior on the back. “I should have thought of that.”

Continued next Monday

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Small Packages entered the chapel in the village square. Highland Guardian sat in a pew, reading the Bible.

“Hey, do you have time for a con-fession?”

Highland Guardian looked up and shook his head. “I’m Church of Scotland. We don’t do confession. But I’d be happy to talk to ye.”

Small Packages walked over to the kilted hero. “Sure, I don’t know if I have anything to confess, other than wanting to kill Payday.”

“Ask the Good Lord, and he will for-give ye for that.”

“It’s been more than eight years since I’ve gone to church regularly. I try to go on Easter, but haven’t made it in six years. Always some emergency. I probably need to confess that too.”

“The Good Lord will forgive ye. But may I ask what makes ye feel like goin’ to confession?”

“For seven years, Skyscraper has been not only my brother, but my whole life. Now he’s dating Speed Skater, and it hit me. We’re both freaks of science, but his freak-ishness won’t stop him from finding getting married. Mine will. I’m alone in the world.”

“Lad, aren’t ye overreactin’ to a first date?”

“Oh, she’ll end up with Skyscraper. She’d be out of her mind not to. Even if she doesn’t marry him, it’s a matter of time be-fore someone comes along.”

“And you’re afraid of being alone?”

“Yes.”

“Now lad, you needn’t fear that. The Lord is with ye always. He knows ye better than anyone. He created ye.”

“But that’s my problem. God didn’t knit me together in my mother’s womb, a lab technician did. I hear I don’t have a soul. How God care about me if I don’t have a soul?”

The Highland Guardian laughed. “Lad, o’ course ye have a soul!  It doesn’t matter what man did to ye in the womb. The soul comes with humanity. It’s who you are, not how tall ye are. Your soul is a creation of the Almighty God, and don’t let anyone else tell ye different.”

Small Packages said, “You sure?”

The Highland Guardian nodded. “Aye, lad. Ye have a soul, and must take care of it. Nourish it with the Word, and feed on pray-ing to ye Creator, and get ye to Church.”

“There’s so much to do.”

“The Good Lord managed this world for thousands o’ years without ye help. He can keep it runnin’ for a couple hours. Now, don’t be like the Pharisees and ignore people in need on the way to church, but make time for God.”

I don’t know what a Pharisee is, but I don’t want to sound stupid.

“Thanks, Guardian.”

“You’re welcome.” Highland Guard-ian rose from his pew.

“Hey, think I could get married?”

Highland Guardian smiled. “With God, all things are possible, and there’s never been any harm done askin’ him.”

Continued next Monday

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Captain Justice drove the rental white SUV. Junior griped for the thousandth time, “This is worse that the Justicemobile!”

“It was this or the yellow Aveo.”

“The planet would prefer the Aveo.”

Cardin said, “My knees are grateful to not have to sit behind you in a compact, thank you.”

They pulled up to the mailbox with Squall written in black label stick-on let-ters. Captain Justice opened the mailbox and pulled out a yellow note. “It’s the post office, advising him they’re holding his mail. Dated six months ago.”

Cardin walked to the gate. “It’s lock-ed.” He pulled a lock pick. “We’ve got probable cause.”

After Cardin opened the gate, they got back in the car and drove down the private road to a blue mansion. They parked out front. Captain Justice looked around. “Wow, what a spread.”

Junior said, “Captain, look up on the roof!”

Captain Justice said, “What is it?”

“He’s got solar panels!”

“Nobody’s home,” Cardin said. “I don’t think there’s even a car in the ga-rage. Let’s head around back.”

In back, they found well manicured lawns.

Captain Justice said, “Do we have probable cause to go in the house?”

 “Sure.” Cardin knocked. “Federal Agents!”

He waited a second and kicked open the door. They walked in. A layer of dust had settled over everything in the kitchen.

Captain Justice said, “I’ll check the basement.”

Captain Justice clomped down the stairs. At the bottom, a pentagram had been sprayed in ashes. “Cardin! Get down here!”

Captain Justice walked past the pent-agram. On a makeshift altar lay a burnt skeleton.

Continued next Monday

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The sleek dark blue Justicemobile stopped outside a federal office building.

Captain Justice smiled. “This car han-dles like a dream.”

“Too bad it’s an environmental night-mare,” Junior said.

“Are you trying to take the joy out of everyone’s lives or just mine?”

“I just want to make sure we have a planet to enjoy our lives on.”

“This car gets twenty-five miles to the gallon. That’s better than the last. The first got eleven miles. It was so bad, during the Carter administration, we had to take the subway.”

“Now, that set a good example! Let’s do that, Grandpa!”

“Son, we’re the Justice family, not the Planeteers.”

They got out of the car.

“Hello, Captain Justice.”

They turned. Janus’s gold body paint shimmered in the eleven o’ clock sun.

Captain Justice said, “Yes?”

Janus posed like the Sword would at a photo-op. “Behold, I am Janus! Earth’s greatest superhero. I admire your work as one of earth’s great old time heroes from years gone by.”

Junior glared and stepped forward. “Maybe you think robbing a Maybelline counter makes you top dog, but Captain Justice is still the world’s greatest hero.”

“Prove it.” Janus struck a fighting stance.

“Janus, that as in Janet Jackson or Janis Joplin?”

“No, J-A-N-U-S, Janus!”

Captain Justice said, “The Roman god with two faces.”

Junior punched his right fist into his left palm. “Good thing you have a spare. I have to mess this face up.”

Captain Justice raised a hand. “Son, there’s nothing heroic about an adoles-cent fight. We’re going in. Now.”

“We’ll meet again, Coward.”

Junior screamed, “Count on it!” He glared one last time and followed Captain Justice inside.

Captain Justice perused the direct-ory. His fingers stopped on the listing for SIB. Third floor.

The two got in the elevator. Captain Justice said, “You handled that well.”

“Thanks.”

“That was sarcasm.”

“Oh. It’s just that punk was attacking you as over the hill and out of touch.”

“So? It doesn’t matter what people say. It matters what God knows and what I know. And I know that I could take that guy if I had to.”

“But he doesn’t know.”

“If he find out, it’ll be the hard way.”

The elevator dinged. The Justices stepped out into the hall. A young man walked out. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for the Super-natural Intelligence Bureau.”

“I’m sorry. You’re at the wrong location.”

Junior frowned. “But it said SIB on the sign downstairs.”

“SIB could stand for a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Um  …Small Intestine Bureau.”

An older man came out. “Way to think on your feet, Jaden.” The older man’s eyes lit up. “Captain!” He ran over to Captain Justice and hugged him. “It’s been years!”

The older agent began to sing “An-chors Away.” Captain joined in.

Junior and Jaden exchanged puzzled frowns.

After finishing the last verse, the older agent said, “We served together in the Navy.”

Captain Justice said, “Yeah, while I was on active duty.”

The older agent smiled. “The big one. Grenada.”

Junior asked, “What’s Grenada?”

“A small island nation. Reagan sent troops to stop the communists from taking over. Cardin here was one of my officers. I saw in him the makings of a great SIB agent.”

“And now I’m the director, though there’s only four of us to start. But I take it this isn’t a social call?”

Captain Justice shook his head. “We have reason to believe the missing heroes may still be alive. Commander Justice ap-peared and helped me out in a fight in Pitts-burgh. Junior did some research, and found a professor Charles Squall had put in a pat-ent application on an inter-dimensional por-tal. From the drawings he sent in, I believe it could work.”

“Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“He doesn’t have a phone. And some-body bought him a piece of property in the mountains of New Hampshire worth four million.”

“Maybe he couldn’t afford the pay-ments.”

“There are no payments. Paid for cash on the barrelhead.”

“Must’ve had some powerful friends.”

“Maybe some of yours.”

“We’ll come.”

Continued next Monday

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The Sword sat on the porch of his English cottage. No way around it. This was all his fault. If it would make things better, he’d resign. But it was his job to get them off this rock.

An arrow whistled through the air and slammed into the cottage three feet from the sword’s head. The Sword grabbed the note pinned by the arrow. It was written in blood.

Jesse, I propose a truce so we can talk. Meet me at the cave where Ice Cube died. Come alone. Noon. DM.

The Sword tucked the note into his belt and walked inside the cottage. Laban sat at the table, writing in a book. The Sword asked, “Figuring out how we get from here to Shangri-la?”

“Cute,” Laban said.

“I’m sorry. It’s just the whole, ‘we crashed into Hell on the way to Jamaica’ theory doesn’t hold water.”

“You don’t even know if we were go-ing to Jamaica. Dark Mystic could’ve been taking us anywhere.”

“Speaking of him, I got a note.” The Sword passed the note to Laban. “What should I do?”

“I think you should go.”

“Really?”

“You never take my advice. So I have to tell you the opposite of what you should do so you won’t make dumb mistakes.”

“Then why don’t you think I should go?”

“No, I think that you should go. The Mystic is trustworthy. He’d never set a trap in order to kill you. Forget about him as a double crosser. He’d never do that to you.”

“Thanks for the advice. I think.”

Continued next Monday

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Small Packages tightened his bow tie at the mini piano made to fit his eighteen inch body, watching his bro pace outside Speed Skater’s cabin. “You know you don’t have to go through with this.”

Skyscraper said, “If-if-if-if n-n-n-n-ot n-n-n-now, then wh-wh-wh-when?”

Small Packages sighed. His bro’s stuttering was worse than usual. There was only one way he could express his love to Speed Skater, and he needed Small Pack-ages’ help to do it.

Speed Skater came around the corner.

Here goes nothing. Small Packages began to play You Are So Beautiful. Sky-scraper belted out the lyrics in his perfect baritone singing voice.

Small Packages could listen to that all day. Unfortunately, since life wasn’t a mus-ical, Skyscraper kept his mouth shut most of the time.

Speed Skater gasped. “You are so cool!”

Skyscraper blinked. “M-m-me? Cool?”

“Yeah! I didn’t know you could sing!”

“He’s crazy about you, Skates. You’re all he ever stutters about. He’s just been too scared to tell you.”

Speed Skater said, “I always thought he was hot, but I didn’t think he was interested.”

Skyscraper swallowed hard. “Y-y-you w-want to t-take a w-w-walk?”

Speed Skater beamed. “I’d love to!”

Small Packages thumped her on the back of the leg. “Great! Where we going?”

Skyscraper turned. “We’ll see you l-later.”

Small Packages looked down. “Oh. Well, uh, have a great time. Don’t stay out too late!”

Skyscraper and Speed Skater walked off.

Well, that was the way it was. From now on, Small Packages walked alone.

He slunk back towards the sixteenth century English village. Time to check in on the latest addition to the Village for Stranded Superheroes Insane Asylum.

Curador sat by the cottage’s fire place, beside the unconscious man-sized Tarantula King and Slugger. The Japanese baseball superhero had proved helpless without his bat.

“How goes it, Doc?” Small Packages asked.

“Not well, Senior.”

Tarantula King jerked awake. “The worm dieth not!”

Curador placed his hand on Taran-tula King’s shoulder, sending him back to dreamland. “I have to do that  before he breaks another straight jacket. He’s been through two this afternoon, and Lord History only produced ten.”

Across the room, Payday sat in his own straight jacket. “Smalls! Come on, kill me! You know you want to. Come on, kill me!”

“It wouldn’t be right. You’re not in your right mind.”

“I have no right mind.”

“Yeah, exactly, that’s why I can’t kill you. Sorry. I only kill sane people and then only if they’re about to get me first.”

Payday’s eyes darted around. “Come on! Somebody kill me! You! Japanese guy! Kill me!”

“Well, guess not much else to see here.”

Continued next Monday

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Captain Justice asked, “You know that all goes to the Justice Foundation, right?”

Junior frowned. “Why?”

“I’m not going to get rich off being a superhero. Our salary’s more than enough for us.”

“But the Sword is worth a quarter of a billion dollars.”

Captain Justice grimaced. “He may have written the book on being a heroic entrepreneur, but believe me the Founda-tion is the best way for us to go.”

“If it’s the Foundation’s job to pay us, why are we sending them money?”

“Do you know how we got this lousy electric motorcycle?”

“You bought it.”

“No, the foundation did. Being a superhero is expensive. We need a large cash reserve to replace helicopters and costumes. Things have gotten a lot less re-stricted at the Foundation. I used to be given three costumes a year and replace-ments beyond that came out of my salary. One year, I rejected their costumes and had to buy your father new tights.”

“Why did you have to buy dad’s?”

“Your dad wanted to change from white to skin-colored tights. He was eighteen, so he was old enough to make a variance in our look. Well, the acquisitions guy decided skin-colored and light pink were the same color. Needless to say, your father wasn’t amused.”

Junior smirked at the mental picture of his dad as a ballerina. He sobered. “Grand-pa, do you think this guy can really help us find Dad?”

“If he can’t help us, I don’t know who can.”

The motorcycle slowed to a crawl then stopped. Captain Justice smacked his handle bars. “Confound it. I thought we’d have enough power to make it to Riley’s house.”

“So maybe it’s not best for driving in the middle of nowhere, but I still think we should keep it.”

“It’s going back to the dealership. Get out and push. Riley should have an outlet.”

The two heroes got out, with Com-mander Justice, Jr. pushing the motorcycle. “Grandpa, don’t you want to ensure I have a clean planet to live on in my old age?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The way I’ve only been aging one year for every two since I turned 18, I can live to be 222.”

His grandpa smirked. “Really?”

“Yeah, see, one of my professors said, with good health practices, you can live to be 120. That means I can age 120 years. Subtracting the eighteen years of normal aging leaves 102 years of aging that will take me 204 years, and adding in the first eighteen years equals 222.”

“You know, Junior, I’ve heard of kids who think they’ll live forever, but you’re the first one I know whose done the math. Regardless, this electric motor-cycle’s not going to save the planet. Do you know where the electricity we’ve been plugging into comes from? Coal-fired power plants with carbon footprints.”

“I never thought of that.”

A quarter mile of huffing later, Riley Jacob’s finished log cabin rolled into view, with a SUV parked in front of a brick red shed that looked like a miniature barn. Junior raised an eyebrow. “This is where the great hacker Riley lives?”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

A  man with a scraggly black beard walked through the brush outside the house. He wore hip waders, a red flannel shirt, and muddy blue jeans “Cap, dat you?”

Captain Justice peered. “Riley?”

Junior sighed. Riley looked like a refugee from Little House on the Prairie.

Riley dropped his fish and ran over. “It’s been what? Twelve years? You’ve hardly aged at all. Who’s this? He reminds me of Commanda’.”

“That’s why I’m here. I need you to help us find the Commander. We need you to do some hacking to see what you can come up with.”

Riley shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t. I haven’t touched a computer in eleven years.”

Captain Justice gasped. “What?”

“Yeah, around the time the Y2K bug had everyone scared of all the computers crashing, I figured being a hacker wasn’t much of a future, so I read some Thoreau and decided to simplify. I gave the Com-mander my notice, sold all my stock, bought a supply of gold and food and moved out here. Just kept about twenty million in the bank in case there wasn’t an emergency. ”

Junior laughed. “Do I have good news for you! The world didn’t come to an end, after all!”

“Yeah, but I like it up here. I’m learning all the tricks of the forest; how to hunt, fish, and survive.”

“So you’re learning to hack nature?”

Riley nodded. “I’m sorry you came up here for nothin’.”

Captain Justice patted his back. “It’s okay, Riley. I need to call upon the Com-mander’s last hacker and see if I can get him back, and you were on the way.”

Junior said, “I can check the patent records when we get home.”

Captain Justice raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need to be a hacker for that?”

Riley laughed. “That’s public record.”

“Oh. Well, if we can plug in our motorcycle for an hour, we can get back to town.”

“Plug it in?”

“Electric motorcycles are the latest craze among some college students. How have you kept up on things?”

“I haven’t, but that reminds me. There’s something I’m just too embarrassed to ask on my biannual trip to town for supplies.”

“Go ahead.”

“Is Al Gore still President?”

Continued next Monday

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Revelator sat at his cottage’s fireplace, whittling a piece of wood with a knife, with all brain waves blocked except the pattern approaching the cottage.

Jesse walked in. I’ve been a real jerk and need to apologize.

“Yep,” Revelator said.

“What are you saying yep to?” the Sword asked.

Revelator continued to whittle. Do I look stupid? “Nothing.”

The Sword coughed. Maybe I can make this easier with some small talk. “What are you working on?”

“Don’t know yet. Might be a little wooden sword.”

“Laban, I’m sorry I blew up.”

“If it helps, you’re right about Revol-ution. Guy wanted to climb the inter-national hero chart by leading the whole op-eration. But he drafted Defender and me. He forcibly injected Defender with  China’s best, but inferior, reproduction of the super human formula that gave us the Justices. I suggested we consult you, but Revolution refused, and kept me closely guarded. My powers are not much of a match for super strength when I need to muscle my way out of a situation.”

“And you would have had to?”

“Better believe it. Revolution was in full on egomaniac mode. Almost as bad as you.”

“I resent that.”

“Truth hurts, man. Oh, you owe De-fender an apology. Revolution had him hoodwinked. He honestly believed this would meet your approval and get every-body home.”

“Duly noted.” Jesse huffed. Why ap-ologize to him? I don’t need him to like me. Besides, he should have told me.

“What is it with you?” Revelator glared. “You apologized to me because I’m your best friend and your son’s godfather?”

“Apologies are for maintaining good relationships. Defender will get over it without an apology, thus he doesn’t need one.”

“Your bad attitude is understandable, given where we are.”

The Sword arched his eyebrow. “You have a hypothesis?”

“Yes, but you won’t believe me.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“I told you Dark Mystic was bad news and you didn’t believe me.”

“Okay, I didn’t believe you that time, but I want to know where we’re at.”

“I told you Pantheon wanted in your pants and you didn’t believe me.”

“Okay, that was another mistake. Now tell me your theory!”

“Okay, Jesse. But remember, I told you that you wouldn’t believe me. We’re on a planet with no sun. This planet ought to be a cold, dead rock that’s so far adrift from its gravitational anchor it looks like all the other stars in the sky. Instead we have light in the day, giving way to pitch black dark-ness at night, as if this planet were orbiting around something nearby.”

Revelator stopped whittling. “The answer isn’t found in science, but I think I do have the answer.” Revelator grabbed his Bible off the bookshelf. “It’s in the Book of Revelation.”

The Sword laughed. “Your favorite.”

“Cute. Take a look at verse 21:23.”

Revelator opened the Bible. “And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon to shine in it; for the glory of God gave it light, and the Lamb is the light thereof.”

Jesse gaped. “You think that we’re in Heaven?”

Revelator laughed. “We’re orbiting it. The light of God is so bright, it can provide the needs of our planet unassisted.”

“So what does orbiting Heaven have to do with my attitude?”

“Couple things. First, the soil’s high sulfuric content. Then we have all those hot springs bubbling up. Everyone seems to be at their worst and both Tarantula King and Payday have had to be put in strait jackets. Everyone is more fearful, lustful, wrathful, egotistical, and mean than they were on Earth.”

“What are you saying?”

“Luke talks about someone in Hell being able to look up and see Heaven.”

Jesse laughed. “You can’t seriously be suggesting—”

“I told you so.” Revelator closed the Bible. “But whether you believe me or not, we are standing on the surface of Hell.”

Continued next Monday

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Ian Bucknell sat still within his body, feeling as if Jalzebel had his demon fingers clenched tight over Ian’s mouth—and every other body part somehow, too.

Markum, his human captor, grouched into a phone. “Look, the old man was retired and we didn’t know about the boy.”

Jalzabel’s grip weakened. Ian wiggled his hand, his own hand, for the first time in months. He scanned the room for some way to do himself in before Jalzabel betrayed any more of Ian’s friends. The medieval dagger on the wall should work.

Markum paced. “No, Janus should not go after the Justice Family. We’ve got to make him accepted, and killing America’s most beloved hero is counterproductive to that. I got a rolodex of people that could do the job and not harm the Janus image.”

Ian stole towards the dagger.

“Yes,” Markum said. “I know. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything. Didn’t I get you this job, Rick? Haven’t I taken care of you?”

Ian grabbed the dagger and raised his right hand, aiming for his heart. He thrust.

Jalzabel redirected the knife into Ian’s left shoulder. Intense pain sizzled through Ian’s body. Jalzabel laughed.

“Hold on. I’ll call you back.” Markum ran over. “What happened?”

Jalzabel said, “I had some fun.”

Markum examined the wound and cursed. “I need to call Dr. Malner and put a tourniquet on this so it doesn’t bleed out. You can have fun with Bucknell later. We’ve got to get ready for your next trip.”

Ian’s body pulsed with the lust of the demon to slay him and show Markum who was really the boss of this outfit.

Instead, Jalzabel answered with false humility, “That’s not for two weeks.”

“Hopefully, by then, we’ll have a new way to come at this.”

“I’ll kill them all off eventually.”

“At this rate, it’ll take two years and a lot of luck to get rid of them all. We need this taken care of in three months.”

Continued next Monday

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In the gym, Rick Westinghall watched the Business channel, as he lifted weights.

“We now go live to Pittsburgh, where Sariah Miller, the acting president of Sword Comics, is announcing the launch of a new comic and the comeback of one of Amer-ica’s most legendary heroes.”

The TV cut to Sariah Miller standing outside a building with—Captain Justice.

“Captain Justice! Captain Justice!” Cursing, Westinghall threw the weights across the room.

Sariah finished speaking. Captain Justice came to the mic. “Thank you. Sword comics was home to my son’s comic book, and we’re honored to continue to work to provide this great company with the stories that has made it a house-hold name.”

This isn’t happening! 

Westinghall ripped the TV out of the wall socket and threw it up to the ceiling. “You’re dead, dead!”

He picked up the phone and dialed the number of his benefactor.

This was not in the plan.

Continued next Monday

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Small Packages stared up at the sun-less sky. “Bro, keep an eye out. Comman-der Justice will be back any second.”

“I don’t know about that,” Revelator said. “He could make it home or—”

“He’ll be back” The Sword paced. “Pantheon’s dead. Ice Cube’s dead. Texas Ranger’s dead. The Tarantula King’s dead.”

“Not yet,” Revelator said. “Curador is working on him, and I picked up a clear thought pattern. He’s scared, but he’s alive. I’d give him a good shot.”

“That’s a good turn, at least. Defen-der, Lord History, Skyscraper, I want to talk to you and to Revelator.” The Sword put his blade on the ground and jumped on it. “Blade, expand.”

He rose into the air above them. “I want an explanation, and I want it now.”

“I was approached—” Captain Revol-ution said.

Commander Justice came hurtling to-wards the ground. Skyscraper expanded upwards in height to catch Commander Justice and brought Commander Justice to the ground. Small Packages said, “Nice catch, bro.”

The Sword turned to Commander. “Are you okay?”

Commander Justice nodded. “You won’t believe where I just was.”

The Sword put a hand out. “In a moment, Commander. As you were saying, Revolution.”

“I was approached by Dark Mystic. He proposed we kill those he identified as essential members of the team and those of us who agreed to participate would join forces to kill the rest in wholesale slaughter. When we finished the rest of you off, he would let us go home.”

“And you agreed to treason?”

“It occurred to me that someone would. I joined the scheme to foil it. I asked permission to go after the Defender first. I needed an ally to help me stage the fake murders and help foil the traitors. I brought along a chemical solution that, when added to a bit of blood, will take on its properties, thus allowing me set up the crime scenes.”

“Why Defender? You hate him.”

“Exactly. No one would expect an alliance between me and the Defender. That’s what made it so perfect. I saved Revelator and Lord History from Pantheon and made her believe she’d killed them, and drugged and kidnapped Skyscraper.”

Skyscraper rubbed his arm. Small Packages stared at the needle track on his left arm. “You okay, bro?”

Skyscraper nodded.

The Sword asked, “Did anyone else know?”

“Curador,” said Captain Revolution.

Revelator nodded. “Pantheon got me pretty bad. We had to bring in Curador.”

Captain Revolution said, “Dark My-stic wanted an American conspirator as well. When I changed cottages and Taran-tula King became my roommate, he was willing to join in.”

The Sword folded his arms. “And the reason you didn’t think I needed to know?”

“The fewer people who knew, the better.”

“I’m sure we all appreciate living in terror the past three and a half days while you guys have been having a grand time kidnapping folks and playing games!”

Captain Revolution glared. “If not for me, Pantheon would have killed a lot of people.”

“Bull. You could have alerted me and we could have brought her in. Instead, you decided to hot shot it, and undermined our cohesion and trust in one another.”

The Sword zoomed over the heroes on his blade. “Look, folks, we may never fight together again. The Guild of Heroes is look-ing like one of the worst ideas I ever had. But until we get home and can all go back to being lone wolves, I don’t want to see this type of thing happen ever again. De-fender, Revelator, and Revolution, you have really disappointed me.”

Revelator shook his head. “I’m head-ed back to camp.”

“We’re not done. Commander Justice had some information.”

“I read his mind. All I’m going to see here is you making a jerk of yourself. I’ve seen enough of that for one day.”

Revelator walked away.

Tarantula King charged towards their location.

The Sword said, “Tarantula King, I’m glad to see you—”

Tarantula King jumped Captain Rev-olution and wrapped his arms around Rev-olution’s throat. “I’m not going back!”

Revolution threw off Tarantula King, leapt on his back, and inserted a syringe into one of his left arms. Tarantula King passed out.

Captain Revolution stood. “He’ll be out for a good six hours.”

“Good,” The Sword said.  “We’ve got six hours then to figure out why everyone’s going crazy.”

Continued next Monday

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Captain Justice moved to one side of the room, Commander Justice, Jr. moved to other near the window. “Remember,” said Captain Justice, “make him angry.”

Junior nodded. “Gotcha.”

He screamed a vulgar insult about the Human Muscle’s mother.

 The Human Muscle charged at Junior, who jumped out of the way. The Human Muscle went through the window.

Captain Justice stared at Junior. “Where did that come from?”

“You told me to make him mad.”

“Yeah, with witty putdowns. Not with that. That’s not the Justice way.”

“Okay, I’ll work on that.”

Captain Justice peaked out the win-dow, whistled at the sprawled form, and picked up the courtesy phone and dialed the front desk.

A nurse answered. “Hey dere’, what can I do for ya?”

“This is Captain Justice. A 600-pound man is lying unconscious on top of a green H1 Hummer in the hospital parking lot.”

“A green hummer, how ironic’s that?” Junior said. “They’ve got a carbon foot print bigger than bigfoot.”

Captain Justice glared.

The nurse said, “I’ll get somebody right down dere. What happened?”

“Oh, he was trying to kill us and fell out the window.”

“Oh dear. You don’t want to go a-round killing people because that type of thing will happen and that’s just not very good.”

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Oh, you too, Captain. Stay safe out dere.”

Captain Justice hung up. He walked out to the elevator and pressed the down button. The elevator opened, and Captain Justice pressed the button for the lobby.

“So, will the guy live?” Junior asked.

“With Human Muscle, bet on it. Usually, he breaks a few bones, gets a con-cussion and goes into a coma for three months. When he wakes up, he doesn’t re-member anything for about two days before the accident.”

“That’s convenient.”

“It works out that way sometimes. But the guy is nigh indestructible with modern medicine. Sad thing is he’s spent most of his adult life either in jail or the hospital.”

The elevator stopped on the sixteenth floor. An elderly woman and a female orderly got on.

The orderly stared. “Are you really Captain Justice?”

“Yeah.”

Junior said, “I’m his partner, Com-mander Justice, Jr.”

“Oh, I’ve never heard of you before.”

“I’m the new kid.”

“Can I have your autograph?”

“I’m not a celebrity,” Captain Justice said. “And I don’t have a pen.”

The doors opened.

The orderly searched her pockets. “Oh, I thought I had one.”

“Young lady!” said the patient. “This is where we get off.” The old lady coughed. 

“Tell you what,” Captain Justice said. “I’ll grab a piece of paper, sign it, and send it up to you.”

“Okay, thanks. I can put it next to my autographed picture of the Sword.”

Captain Justice noted her name from the nametag before the door closed. “It wasn’t like this in my day. You did your job and you didn’t act like a Prima Donna.”

“I take it you don’t care for the Sword.”

“Oh, he inspired more people to get involved in helping others, and that’s a good thing. He did better than anyone else I know there. But his style rubbed me wrong. No hero ought to carry a pouch full of 3” x 5” glossies on his belt.”

“Say, you think I could get some?”

Captain Justice glared. “That reminds me. Why didn’t you obey orders? I told you to get the lady out of there.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone to fight that behemoth. We’re partners, Grand-pa. I’m not a little kid.”

“I know, I just thought—”

“You thought you could handle him alone.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“You’re not as young as you used to be.”

“I keep forgetting.” And he wished his family would stop reminding him.

“Grandpa, where is Dad?”

“I wish I knew. But he’s alive some-where, and we’re going to find him.”

The elevator stopped and opened.

Sariah Miller stood outside.

Captain Justice asked, “Mrs. Miller, any news on the Muscle?”

“They just wheeled him up to inten-sive care. He’s got a concussion, broken leg, broken arm, and a broken collarbone. I couldn’t make out the rest.”

“Oh, then he’ll be fine. What was go-ing on, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Junior said. “Why were you in an empty room?”

“Shhh.” Sariah pointed to a hospital conference room. “Let’s go in there, and I’ll explain everything. I need your help.”

Continued next Monday

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A force far more powerful than the Human Muscle grabbed Commander Jus-tice and threw him down a spiraling vortex.

What had hit him?

Mystic screamed, “Get back where you belong!”

Commander Justice broke through the vortex. He hurtled from the sky on a collision course with a sulfuric sea of sand.

Continued next Monday

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“God,” he managed.

A light flashed in the room.

It couldn’t be.

But it was. Commander Justice, an avenging ghost, grabbed their attacker’s neck so tight that the Human Muscle’s grip began to loosen. Justice Junior kicked the Human Muscle in the stomach. Muscle released both Captain Justice and Junior.

“Dad!” Junior screamed. “Are you a ghost?”

Commander stared at his son and then glared at his father.  “I’ll explain this all as soon as I take out the trash.”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” The Human Muscle writhed in an effort to break Commander’s grip and elbowed him in the face. Commander popped like a bubble.

“Now, it’s just you two!” The Human Muscle shook his finger. “Play fair. No more phantoms.”

Continued next Monday

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In the vortex, Commander Justice fought Dark Mystic  through a transparent tunnel. Dark Mystic hovers towards the por-tal. Commander Justice’s furious fists pummeled Dark Mystic. “Sorry pal, you’re going to have a good night’s sleep.”

“No, you can’t defeat me. I’m the champion of hell.”

Commander Justice karate chopped Mystic’s exposed neck. Mystic crumpled beneath him like a cheap suit.

“Unfortunately, you chose to inhabit a human being I could beat the snot out of.”

Even with all the force of hell raging inside Mystic, a well-trained Justice could overpower the comparably-frail Mystic quite easily.

Commander Justice threw the uncon-scious Dark Mystic over his shoulders and entered a hall of two-way mirrors. Each showed a random place on Earth. He walk-ed past one house where the calendar read, “May.”

May? We left in December. We’ve been gone six months, but it only seems like six days.

If he tried to exit this thing, he wanted to be sure it was somewhere familiar. He didn’t want to end up in a hostile country.

He walked further down and stopped. The Human Muscle was choking his dad and a guy in a suit like theirs, but with “JR” rather than rank insignia on his head.

Commander slipped his hands in the transparent film and pushed on through.

Continued next Monday

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Captain Justice and Commander Justice Jr. faced the Human Muscle in Jesse Miller’s hospital room.

The Human Muscle laughed. “Does the old folks home know you’re gone?”

Captain Justice smirked. Water off a duck’s back. “Muscle, I busted you thirty years ago. I’ll do it again.”

“Oh how I’ve missed our little battles. The Sword was so professional, so neat, always in a good camera angle for pictures he’d give the comic artists. You were just so …old school. I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

In a Wrestle-mania pitch, Commander Justice, Jr. said, “We’re gonna mess you up. Nobody messes with the Justice family.”

Captain Justice slapped his forehead.

The Human Muscle asked, “Who’s the chubby kid?”

“Junior, get the lady out. I’ll handle the Human Muscle.”

“But Grandpa—”

“Go!” This guy will have you for breakfast, and I’m not losing both of you.

The Human Muscle lunged at Captain Justice. Captain Justice jumped out of the way. “Still as agile as a freight train, I see.”

The Muscle ripped the headboard off the Hospital bed and threw it at Captain Justice.

Captain Justice watched it sail right past him and out the window.  “Look out below!” He turned back to the Human Muscle. “Nice aim.”

The Human Muscle ripped the bed frame apart and wielded half the frame like a baseball bat. He swung and scraped the wall paper. He swung again and hit a book shelf.

Captain Justice leapt at the Human Muscle. The Human Muscle grabbed him and spun Captain Justice around like a pro-wrestler. He got a grip on the other half of the bed frame and landed a solid blow to the Human Muscle’s back.

“Put Captain Justice down.”

“No problem, pee wee.” The Human Muscle flung Captain Justice at Junior.

 The impact sent them both sprawling to the ground. The Human Muscle picked up both heroes by the neck.

Captain Justice gasped for air. It felt like his whole chest was caving in.

“Let’s see who dies first.”

Continued next Monday

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Small Packages grabbed Captain Revolution by his shoelaces and spun him in the air. Captain Revolution screamed. “Let go of me you comic fool. You’re ruining everything.”

“Huh?”

“Let me down and you’ll see.”

Small Packages dropped Captain Rev-olution, who stood up and whistled.

Tarantula King jumped Dark Mystic and bit his leg. Dark Mystic screamed and threw Tarantula King off. “I thought you were on our side.”

“There’s been a change in the line-up.”

“And a few players added,” Captain Revolution said.

Out of a cave on the opposite side of the Peninsula, emerged the Defender in a black trench coat instead of his white one, Revelator, Lord History, and Skyscraper, all none the worse for wear.

Small Packages ran to his brother.  “Bro, you had me scared.”

Skyscraper scooped Small Packages up and placed him in his pocket.

Small Packages said, “All right bro, let’s level them.”

Pantheon shouted, “This isn’t poss-ible! I killed Lord History and Defender. I remember hiding the bodies.”

“A drug induced false memory,” Cap-tain Revolution said. “I mixed up a cocktail, gave you a post-hypnotic suggestion, and made you believe you had killed them. And we were able to get Dark Mystic to believe they were dead too, and thus keep them safe.”

Pantheon laughed.

“Lady, you’re outnumbered hopeless-ly!” the Tarantula King said.

“One woman with the right power can do anything. Lightning bolt of Zeus!”

A lightning bolt zipped out of Panthe-on’s fingers and struck Tarantula King in the chest. Tarantula King fell limp.

The heroes all took cover behind rocks and boulders.

“Rocks won’t save you!” Pantheon fired a blast at one of them. “I’ll destroy you.” She laughed. “Starting with the one who spurned my love. Lightning Bolt of Zeus!” She fired another blast at the rock.

The Sword stood up behind where the rock had stood, his blade drawn.

“Your blade can’t defeat me.”

A short heroine in white face paint and a black shirt and black pants shoved the Sword aside.

Small Packages said to Skyscraper, “Is that who I think it is?”

Pantheon cracked up. “The Mine. The Mine goes against the almighty Pantheon.”

“Oh brother,” said Small Packages.

The Sword said, “Surrender now and you may survive.”

“I have no fear of the Mime!” Panthe-on pointed towards Mime’s steady advance. “Lightning bolt of Zeus!”

The Mime pressed her hands along the boundaries of an imaginary wall.

The lightning bolt dissipated.

Pantheon’s jaw dropped.

The Sword laughed. “You should have read her comic.”

Pantheon sneered. “Her shield won’t hold.”

She pointed her arms towards the Mime. “Lightning bolt of Zeus.”

The lightning bolt deflected.

“Lightning bolt of Zeus!”

The ray bounced back at Pantheon and knocked her flat on her rear end. The Mime advanced ever closer. The Sword and the other heroes joined the Mime behind the forcefield.

Pantheon ran to Dark Mystic. “Please, help me!”

The Dark Mystic loosed an inhuman laugh. “Help you! You will pay the price of failure. To the pit with you!”

The ground gave away beneath Pan-theon, who sank into the Earth. “Help!”

The Sword jumped on his blade and tapped it. “Blade, expand.”

The Blade expanded to surfboard-size, and the Sword rode to Pantheon, up to her waist in the sand. He reached, grabbed her glove, and pulled. “Skyscraper!”

Skyscraper stretched across the ex-panse and grabbed the Sword’s torso. Small Packages said, “Come on, bro, pull for all you’re worth.”

They pulled.

Almost up to her shoulders

And pulled.

Pantheon put her head back in an effort to keep her airways above the sand.

And pulled.

The Sword and Skyscraper fell back-wards as Pantheon disappeared from sight. The Sword stood up with Pantheon’s gloves in his hands.

The Dark Mystic laughed. “Never fear, your turn is coming.” He ascended in the air towards a portal above him.

“Hold on, pal!” Commander Justice leapt on Dark Mystic’s back. “Land now.”

“Never!” screamed Dark Mystic, throttling through the sky into the portal.

Dark Mystic and Commander Justice continued to struggle.

The portal closed behind them. Small Packages stared. “Commander!”

Continued next Monday

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Sariah Miller sat beside her husband’s empty hospital bed. “Jesse, what would you do?”

“How touchingly melodramatic,” a raspy voice said.

Sariah turned. The Human Muscle stood in the door, a whole 600 pounds of bone-crushing power. His emblem, a large bicep, flexed on his red spandex leotard.

Sariah stood. “How did you get in?”

“Oh please. I’m the Human Muscle. How do you think?” He threw two pieces of twisted metal on the floor. “Those used to be guns.”

“What do you want?”

“I have what I want. The Sword’s secret identity. I became suspicious when I read about Jesse Miller having a heart at-tack and going into a coma. Jesse Miller having a heart attack? The picture of good health? Didn’t seem believable. I asked my-self, what really happened? And then I real-ized what a perfect illusion he had. Miller was agent to every costumed hero on the planet. Who better to be their leader? And competing with himself for your affections, what better way to throw his enemies off?”

“What do you want?”

The Human Muscle clinched his fist. “To make the Sword suffer. To destroy him and so avenge the years I spent in that rat-hole.”

“Too late. He’s dead.”

“And you can rest assured Mystic will pay for what he’s robbed me of, but mean-while, I’ll take what I can. I know quite a few who’d pay handsomely for the oppor-tunity to extract the price of meddling from the Sword’s family. Who should I sell your secret to? A kidnaper who will raise your son to be a villain? A sex offender? Or a serial killer?”

“Leave my baby alone!”

“Well, there’s one way you could save him. Kill the Sword.”

Sariah laughed. “How can you kill a man twice?”

“When he’s still alive in a comic book. Kill the Sword off and give me the honor.”

Sariah stopped laughing.

Human Muscle continued, “Further, I want my own comic book to cover my heroic exploits. Advertise me as the new Payday.”

“It’d be a worse betrayal to Jesse than actually killing him.”

“Darling, you leave me no choice.” The lumbering pile of muscle stepped to-wards her. He moved closer. Closer.

Close enough.

Sariah yanked pepper spray from her pocket, sprayed it in his eyes, and dashed for the door. The Human Muscle pulled a spray from his belt pouch and sprayed it in his eyes.

Almost there.

A green knee-high boot kicked the door open.

Continued next Monday

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The Sword tapped his blade on the yellow sand as the entire surviving pop-ulation of the hero colony stood at the pen-insula five miles from camp. “All right, Revolution, you told us that you and Pan-theon had figured out where everyone had disappeared to. So let’s have it.”

“Tarantula King, come here,” Captain Revolution said.

The man mutated into a giant six-armed spider joined Captain Revolution and Pantheon. 

Captain Revolution said, “It’s quite simple. We made them disappear.”

The Dark Mystic flew out of a nearby cave entrance. “And we shall make you all disappear now that your strongest members are gone.”

A bullet whizzed through the air and hit Dark Mystic in the arm.

“Not if we can help it,” cried the big voice of the Guild’s littlest member.

The Sword grinned. “Small Packages! I was afraid you were dead.”

Dark Mystic growled. “I thought you were. But you’ll all be dead soon.”

Continued next Monday

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The motorcycle sputtered and died.

It’d been a few days since DJ had completed his hero basic training and to show him he was part of the team, Captain Justice had decided to let DJ pick out their vehicle.

Big mistake.

Captain Justice said, “Okay, I’m tak-ing this back to the dealership.”

Commander Justice, Jr. whined from the sidecar. “But this is good for the earth, Grandpa. It is a fully electric motorcycle.”

“Yes, and it runs out of battery life every fifty miles.”

“We just need to find a plug-in.”

Captain Justice stared at Junior. “Have you ever been in a high speed chase?”

“No.”

“The crooks don’t let you stop and recharge. This is not a comic book. I am not looking for our version of kryptonite. Soon as we get back to New York, we’re trading this is for a good old fashioned petrol vehicle. Now let’s find a plug.”

Junior coughed. “The air stinks. New York smells much better than Pittsburgh.”

“You should’ve been a rose gardener if you cared about smell. If we’re going to fill in for every lost superhero, we’ve got to visit some of their cities.”

“Hey, there’s a plug by that street light.”

They pushed the motorcycle to the street light and plugged it in.

Junior rubbed together his navy blue gloves. “Now, we just wait six minutes, and we’ll be ready to roll again.”

“Another thing that crooks won’t let you do in a high speed chase.”

“I know what type of car you want.” Junior pointed across the street to a red 1970 Pontiac GTO parked in front of the hospital. “You want a muscle car like you and the Admiral drove back in the ‘70s.”

Captain Justice stared at the flexed muscle hood ornament on the Pontiac and raced for the hospital. “We don’t have a moment to lose.”

Junior dashed after him. “What is it?”

“I’ll explain on the way up.”

Continued next Monday

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An acrid burning scent prodded Small Packages. “Is this Hell or just purgatory?”

“Neither,” a feminine voice replied.

Small Packages opened his eyes. Across from him sat that maniac Payday tied up.  The Empress stood over a campfire roasting a spit of Proto-cabbage, the one edible plant on this rock.

Small Packages rubbed his eyes. “Empress, what am I doing here?”

“I brought you after those three left.”

“Oh. Guess Captain Revolution’s pres-sure points weren’t as good as he thought.”

The Empress laughed. “No, he let you live. If he’d wanted you dead, that wouldn’t be a problem for him.”

“Why are you sticking up for him? You’re not his biggest fan.”

“No, but I can’t deny reality.”

Small Packages looked over at the tied-up psychopath. “What’s Payday doing here?”

 “He tried to hang himself. I cut him down and tied him up so he couldn’t try again.”

Small Packages stared at Payday. “You, commit suicide? Why?”

Payday shrugged. “I told the lady if she knew me, she’d help me die, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Oooh-kay,” said Small Packages.

The Empress shook her head. “He’s not the only one acting peculiar. I’ve been feeling very different since I came here. In Japan, I’m known for my virtue, but it’s been much harder here.”

“Now, that you mentioned it, Sky-scraper and I have thought about trying to kill Payday, but we never tried it until we got here. It’s as if this place is bringing out the worst in us.” Small Packages paused. “Why didn’t Captain Revolution kill me?”

“I’ve been wandering the woods ever since Defender disappeared, and I’ve seen things that indicate there’s a larger plan. This camp is only a short distance from the Peninsula. I think we can rush in behind them when they lure the others here.”

Small Packages arched an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we warn the others?”

“Sometimes, you’ve got to let the game play out.”

Continued next Monday

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“History!” Small Packages shouted in the woods. He could only see three feet ahead of him. The search party trudged through the fog. “Commander Justice, do you see anything?”

“No! Zion?”

 “Negative! With fog this dense, we could wander around forever and never find him.”

Commander Justice sighed. “All right, let’s get back to camp. We’ll search more in the morning.”

“Come on, bro.” Small Packages turned around looking for his seven foot tall brother. “Bro?”

Captain Zion shouted, “Come here, I found something!”

“Where’s here?”

A light came on in the forest.

Small Packages raced to the cigarette lighter’s gleam. Captain Zion and Comman-der Justice stood over Skyscraper’s over-alls. Small Packages screamed. “No!”

Captain Zion said, “Seems they snuck in, killed him in the fog, and took away the body.”

But took his pants off first? Small Packages sniffed them. Skyscraper hadn’t been killed here.

“What are you doing?” Commander Justice asked.

“Looking for evidence. They couldn’t have got out. This happened within the last few minutes.” Small Packages grabbed a six inch twig off the ground. “Zion, give me a light.”

“We can’t go on.” Commander Justice said. “We can barely maneuver without running into something.”

“Wrong, you can barely maneuver. The fog’s not as dense at my height.  If I don’t have to worry about you guys, I can go fine.”

“I’m not letting you go in alone.”

Captain Zion knelt down and lit the stick. “Shalom, little brother.”

Small Packages smiled. “Shalom, Zion. Thanks for understanding.”

Small Packages raced through the forest dodging trees, he stopped at a giant’s footprint. A size 8 ½ women’s boot.

It wasn’t the Impress, Data Bank, or the Mime. Their feet were way too small to wear that size. Elephant Woman’s exo-skeleton left bi-pedal elephant tracks. Speed Skater might be about this size, but her boots had a lot of tread and the tracks didn’t. That left only one person with the right size and type of shoe that could have made this track.

Pantheon.

Small Packages followed the tracks.

 It’s funny how Walt never worked my ability to identify shoe tracks by sight into any of the comics. Guess they didn’t think it was a very exciting power.

Pantheon shouted, “You and your theatrics! You’ve put that little idiot right on our trail.”

“I’m not the one who used a signa-ture arrow to shoot Revelator. Hmm. Who did that? Oh yes.  That would be you.”

Captain Revolution. He’d pegged this right the whole way. The two of them were in cahoots.

A whoosh spliced through the forest. Dark Mystic landed behind the two. “Are all of them out of the way, finally?”

“I took care of Skyscraper,” Captain Revolution said.

“Splendid.” Dark Mystic frowned. “Do you see that light?”

“What light?”

Uh oh.

Small Packages extinguished the torch and dashed through the forest. He had to get back to camp and warn the others.

Flame flew over his head and through the fog. Dark Mystic looked to be aiming for Small Packages flambé.

Normal giants would be no problem in this weather, but no weather suited taking on one Demon-possessed madman and two genetically engineered superfreaks.

A pink gloved hand reached towards him and Small Packages sped up.

“You cannot escape me!” Pantheon shouted. “I am Artemis the huntress.”

Tree branches broke above him in the distance. Crack, crack, crack.

Captain Revolution jumped out in front of him. Small Packages took a sharp curve. Captain Revolution lunged for him, but missed. Like Tom vs. Jerry here.

Small Packages raced through the trees. Dark Mystic appeared in front of him. He turned. Pantheon was to the side with Captain Revolution closing in.

Only one thing to do. Fight.

He grabbed Pantheon by the boot and picked her up.

“What are you doing, you vermin?”

He tossed her into Dark Mystic, who threw her back at Small Packages. He ducked.

A red glove grabbed him. Small Pack-ages struggled against the hand, but it might as well have been made of titanium. All he was doing was wearing himself out.

Captain Revolution smiled. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Pressure points are a fine oriental art that you will appreciate.” He turned to Mystic and Pantheon. “No one will come here before we lead the rest to the Peninsula. We can leave his body like a dead rat.”

No! It couldn’t end this way.

The nimble hands applied pressure to the back of Small Packages neck.

Fade to black.

Continued next Monday

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An e-mail crossed Sariah Miller’s desk with the headline, “Awesome Comics Signs Real Life Superhero.”

She opened the press release. A new hero named Janus had come on the scene and thwarted a hostage crisis. Awesome Comics had signed Janus to a six year, $18 million contract.

Sariah’s eyes grew wide. “For stop-ping one bank robbery!”

That was insane. Jesse offered their heroes a contact only after years of hard work. Even then the contract would be heavy on royalties, but light on guaranteed money. Jesse was their only hero who pulled over six figures.

She scanned down the press release. “Says Rick Westinghall, Executive Vice-President of Awesome Comics, ‘With Janus on board, that makes us the only comic book to have actual active duty real life heroes.’”

Yeah, but our heroes have been on more than one mission. She opened up her e-mail to type up a nastygram.

Anger rests in the bosom of fools.

She closed the e-mail. Thank God she didn’t give Rick the satisfaction.

Her eye caught the name of the writer of the new Janus comic in the press release. Walt Winters. One of Sword Comics’ longest serving writers.

She breathed in hard and sent an e-mail to her secretary, calling for a writer’s meeting the next morning. She locked the computer. “Lord, please help me. I don’t know what’s going on, but you do.”

Continued next Monday

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Jason Justice finished packing his vinyl thrift store suitcase. “Do I have everything?”

His wife said, “Everything except me. Why do you have to go to Florida alone?”

“Because my quarters there are in Captain Justice’s name and I couldn’t risk someone identifying you. And your four-legged patients would miss their doctor.”

“Not hardly. They hate me.”

“Their owners would.”

“Hate me?”

“No, miss you, Difficult.’

The doorbell rang.

“Must be the shuttle. They’re early.” Jason kissed Marlene. “I’ll see you in three weeks.”

He went the door. His grandson stood out on the step with a duffle bag.

“DJ? What are you doing here?”

DJ looked down at his shoes. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, sit down.”

Jason sat down on the sofa and DJ sat on futon across from him.

DJ said, “I’ve quit the band and am skipping Spring Semester.”

“Why?”

“I want to help fix things. It’s what Dad would want.”

“Why didn’t you say this back when you and your mom were here?”

“Two words. Uncle. Wally.”

Jason nodded. “I see.”

“I felt stupid after what he’d said. I decided at the moment it made more sense to try and become a rich rock star.”

“This job doesn’t make sense. Neither does serving in the military, but it’s still got to be done. There will be sacrifices.”

“I know.”

“For one, the nature of this business is a military appearance.”

DJ clutched his long blond locks. “You sure?”

“It’s part of the brand.”

DJ released his hair. “Okay. For Dad.”

“I’ll need to call the airline to see if I can get another ticket.” Jason grabbed the cell.

DJ turned on the TV.

While Jason finalized the expensive purchase of a last minute plane ticket, DJ said, “Hey, Grandpa, take a look.”

Jason turned towards the television.

A reporter stood two blocks from Times Square. “We have a late breaking development outside the Zephmac National Bank. The hostage situation is over. The bank robbers have been captured by a man who calls himself Janus. He is holding a press conference to discuss the capture mo-mentarily.”

DJ said, “Hey, looks like we might have some help.”

“I wouldn’t count on it, son.” Calling a press conference after a rescue? Not even the Sword was that publicity-hungry.

Continued next Monday

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Small Packages sat atop Commander Justice’s shoulder in Lord History’s seven-teenth century cottage’s living area. Lord History’s roommate, Captain Zion, sat in a rocker.

Small Packages asked him, “Are you sure he hasn’t just gone on a long walk?”

“No, he’s definitely missing.”

“How do you know and don’t tell me Lord History missed his tea time.”

Captain Zion stared back. Small Pack-ages groaned. “That really is it, isn’t it?”

“What can I say? He’s a walking cliché. He never misses his afternoon tea.”

“When did you see him last?”

“About noon.”

“If Lord Cliché’s not at dinner, maybe then we can worry.”

Commander Justice said, “Hold on now, little partner.”

Small Packages bristled at the dimin-utive. But he at least said partner. That was something.

Commander continued. “We need to take a better safe than sorry approach. He may not be alive by dinner. I’ll lead the search party.”

Small Packages sighed. “You win.”

Continued next Monday

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Janus glanced down at himself, ad-miring the way his gold body paint shined in the sun-light streaming from the balcony window. He pulled a knife from his loin-cloth’s belt and threw it at the target on the wall. The knife landed square in the middle of the Sword’s helmeted face.

Janus walked over to the picture. ‘You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, Miller. Your city will be my city. Your wo-man, my woman. Your company, my com-pany. Your world, my world.”

He twisted the knife in the picture. “And there is nothing you can do about it.”

Continued next Monday

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Perched on a baseball-sized sulfurous rock, Small Packages kicked at pebbles the same size as his feet. “Is this going to take much longer?”

Data Bank said, “Hold your horses. I’ve got thirty pieces of cloth to compare. Why did you do so many?”

“We figured an arrow made the hole in Revelator’s jacket, and we wanted to compare every arrow that could’ve been fired against the pattern that hit Revelator in the back.”

“The only heroes that use a bow and arrow are Lord History and Pantheon.”

“You forgot Payday’s crossbow.”

“That’s still only three.”

“Yeah, but Lord History could call up any arrow from any historical period. So, we kept having him fire arrows until he couldn’t think of any more.”

“How did you sell him that ‘Comman-der Justice’s secret plan’ requires firing off every arrow known to man?”

“If he was suspicious, he didn’t show it. He was incredibly polite. There’s no way he’s got anything to do with this. We’re just covering all the required bases.”

“That’s what the Sword would’ve said about Dark Mystic.”

“You can’t get suspicious of every-body.”

Data Bank looked up. “Seems to be smarter than trusting everyone.”

“Come on. Dark Mystic got his pow-ers from Satan. Lord History got his powers in a freak laboratory accident.”

“Did you know where Dark Mystic’s powers come from?”

“Never read his comic.”

“What about mine?”

“Sorry.”

“Do you read anyone’s?”

Small Packages sighed. “Only proof copies of my own, and that was to keep the writers in line. They’ve tried to write a Salvadorian cousin into the series five times. It’s like, ‘Hello, I’m Irish.’”

“Then what do you read?”

“Police reports.”

“Oh, come on. You must read some-thing for fun.”

“Why are you so curious?”

“In my brain, I keep files on everyone I meet, and I want to fill that file up with as much information as possible.”

“If you must know, I read the classics. Poe, Shakespeare, a little Dostoyevsky.”

Data Bank laughed.

Small Packages sighed. “See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I just never imagined you as-”

“As what? The reading type? What did you expect? Detective novels and comic books? Maybe some short stories?” He got so many short jokes it wasn’t even funny.

“Well-um-kinda.” Databank stared up at the sky. “Okay, sorry. I guess I should hold pre-conceived notions loosely.”

Small Packages shrugged. “Just hurry up with the results.”

“I multi-task. The good news is we can rule out Pay Day. There’s no way his crossbow bolts made the hole in Revelator’s costume. Most of Lord History’s arrows also bear no resemblance to the arrows found in the costume.”

Data Bank held up a swatch of fabric. “This one from the Bow of Ares fired by Pantheon appears to be almost an identical match. The runner-up would be Lord History’s Ancient Greek arrow.”

“My money’s on that arrow coming from Pantheon.”

“Why?’

“Lord History’s arrows rarely hit the bulls eye. When Pantheon fired, the arrow went straight in the kisser. After I pulled the fabric sample, I had her fire two more ar-rows. They were all on target.”

Commander Justice approached.

Small Packages saluted. “Good news, chief. We eliminated Payday, and we’re pretty sure Lord History wasn’t involved.”

“I can rule him out entirely. History’s disappeared.”

Continued next Monday

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Jason Justice paced the master bed-room’s pink shag carpet. His wife opened the bedroom door, wrinkling her pug nose in that cute way Marlene did when nervous. “Jason, they’re here.”

He swallowed. “Time to face Wally.”

Marlene pulled brushed back a lock of her golden hair. “Honey, honestly, you act like you’re the child and he’s the father.”

“He makes me feel like it.”

“Well, he shouldn’t.” She grabbed Jason’s hands and bowed her head. “Dear Lord, be with Jason and give him a heart that’s unafraid to speak the truth. And Lord, I pray Wally would give Jason the honor that he’s due. Be with them both.”

She wrapped her arms around Jason and kissed him.

After a few seconds, she pulled away.

He said, “You know, if I had a prayer and a kiss from you before every battle, I have no doubt I’d win. Come on, let’s face the dreaded Wally.”

Wally Justice sat on the couch in his Khaki uniform, with the insignia proudly declaring Major Justice “a real major” not a “dumb” super hero. The army officer turned to his brother’s widow. “Lorene, if there’s anything that I can do for you, name it.”

The young woman nodded. “Thanks.”

Wally stood. “Hey, Dad!”

Jason nodded. “Son.” 

Jason and Wally sat down. Jason cast his glance at DJ, playing a handheld video-game on the futon. His grandson’s unruly blond hair danced as the teen’s head and hands moved.

“DJ!”

No answer. He’d try louder. “DJ!”

 Still not a blink.

“Dewey Thomas Justice Junior!”

DJ looked up from the game. “Huh?”

“Put that away. We have to talk.”

“Let me save it.”

A few button clicks later, DJ tossed the game on the table. “Yeah, Grandpa?”

Here goes.

“I’m coming out of retirement.”

Wally laughed. “You’re joking.”

Jason stared at his son.

“Dad, tell me you’re joking.”

“Son, I’m needed.’

Wally jumped up. “By your family! You spent thirty-two years playing masked avenger. You promised me you were giving this up.”

“I did. But now I need to go back.”

“No, you want to go back! It’s not enough that Grandpa and Dewey died doing this and left Grandma and Lorene widows. No, my father’s gotta break his neck.”

“The Army’s dangerous.”

“There’s a difference. I’m an Army surgeon, you a vigilante. I don’t go looking for trouble, you do. You wear a Halloween costume, I my country’s uniform. Mom, talk some sense into him.”

Marlene looked into Jason’s eyes and then glanced back to their remaining son. “Wally, I’m proud of you. I was proud of your brother, and I’m proud of your father. When I married him, I knew this was a fam-ily with a unique calling.”

“Oh, you think it’s the family’s call-ing to run around in tights and play games with their lives? Nobody asked me about this calling.”

Marlene smiled. “Nobody asks you about a calling. You can choose a job or a career, but a calling comes from God.”

“God? We’re freaks of science.”

“Son,” Jason said. “God is the one who allowed the Admiral to be chosen.”

“Well, what do you want from me? To join your little masquerade?” His son stared into his eyes. “You do. You want me to suit up.”

“The doctor said it would help—”

“—if you had somebody else along. Well, I’m not signing your death warrant.”

“I’m doing this with or without you.”

“You want to be a fool and get your-self killed, that’s your business, Dad.”

Wally thundered to the door. The slam redounded throughout the house.

Jason winced. Even in his worst battle with the Human Muscle back in 1993, he hadn’t been hurt this bad.

Lorene said, “Dad, I’m sorry he acted like that. DJ. and I stand with you. Right, son?”

DJ blinked. “Uh, right, Mom.”

“Thank you,” said Jason. “It’s good to have some support. DJ, I know you’ve not been interested in the past, but I could use the help.”

DJ put up his hands. “Dude, I just want to play music.”

“I understand. It’s not for everybody.”

Lorene said, “I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thanks. Could you give me a few minutes alone?”

“Sure.”

Jason bounded up the stairs and into the game room. Memory transformed the pool table into Wally’s bed. Jason walked over to Wally’s fourth grade science proj-ect, a volcano. Beside it sat Wally’s glove from little league. Memories spilled down Jason’s cheeks like the soda that had once erupted from the volcano. Too many times of saying no, of missing that special game, the play, the Junior ROTC drill team.

No wonder he hates this stuff so much.

“I am Lady Justice!”

Jason turned and laughed. His wife stood in the entry with a pillowcase on her head. He asked, “How can you fight crime if you can’t see where you’re going?”

“I can cut holes in it. Or maybe I should just get a costume designed.”

Jason laughed. “You’ve never had any interest in this.”

“I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Me neither. That’s why I don’t want to be a widower.”

She removed the pillowcase.

Jason smiled. “Ah, you’re unmasked.”

He kissed her gently on her lips.

“Wasn’t my style.” She paused. “Will you be okay, seriously?”

“After the Admiral’s death, I fought alone until Dewey was old enough to help.”

“That was over twenty years ago.”

 “I know I’m not in the condition I was in then. But I know people who can give me a few edges. If I’m not as strong, I can be smarter in the way I fight.”

She nodded. “Be careful.”

“I’ll do the best I can.”

Considering my job involves fighting off armed criminals in the dark.

Continued next Monday

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 “We’re running out of heroes.” Small Packages stared over the cliff’s edge at the costume of the Sword’s sidekick, Revelator.

The Sword took off his helmet, knelt, and began to weep. “Laban, oh dear God, no.”

The eighteen-inch-tall full grown man looked up at his boss. “Sword, it’s okay.”

“It’ll never be okay. If I had listened to Laban about Dark Mystic, none of this would have happened.”

If I’d know about Mystic, I wouldn’t have even been on that plane, but the Sword doesn’t need the guilt right now.

 “It’s part of the job. We agreed to hold you blameless in the event of death, dismemberment, or disability while we are performing our superhero duties.”

The Sword raised his eyebrow. “When did you agree to that?”

“In the contract. “

“There’s a difference between legal responsibility and moral responsibility.”

Commander Justice squeezed the Sword’s shoulder. “Small packages is right. We all take risks in this business.”

The Sword stood. “This isn’t a risk. This is a mistake. A costly one.”

“Well,” said Captain Revolution. “I guess this clears me.”

The four other heroes turned to stare at Revolution. “What?” he asked. “Small Packages accused me of murder. I couldn’t have very well done this. I was with Small Packages when it happened.”

Small Packages grunted. You could’ve had an accomplice, but the Sword doesn’t buy the idea of one traitor, let alone two.

The Sword said, “Smalls, I need to be alone. I trust you can handle this.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Small Packages, his seven foot tall twin, Skyscraper, Commander Justice, and Captain Revolution clambered down the hill.

Commander Justice said, “Small Packages, check out the uniform. Captain Revolution and I will search for evidence around the perimeter.”

Small Packages climbed down to Revelator’s uniform. He stared at the blood stain. This time, the blood had seeped from the inside of the shirt to the outside.

I tell Captain Revolution about the blood seeping the wrong way at the scene of the Defender’s disappearance, and this time it’s different. But I didn’t tell him about the blood being globed, and that problem’s still here.

Small Packages looked at the back of the uniform’s shirt. Now this was different. A spot of blood surrounded a hole in the shoulder.  “Commander!”

Commander Justice ran over. “What?”

“Take a look at this tear in the fabric.”

Commander Justice picked up the uniform shirt. “There’s a definite pattern.”

“Look at the shape of the opening. Does it look like an arrowhead did it?”

Commander Justice nodded.

Small Packages ran his hand over the hole. “Who uses arrows in their arsenal?”

“Lord History and Pantheon. Payday’s been known to use a crossbow.”

Small Packages strained his neck to see Commander Justice’s eyes. “Payday’s work is not this subtle. He never cleans up after one of his killing sprees.”

Commander stroked his chin. “I doubt its Lord History. My grandmother worked with him from time to time. She’d vouch for him.”

Small Packages pursed his lips. “None of us got on this trip by being likely sus-pects.” Even if Jesse must’ve had the Sword’s helmet on too tight when he picked Payday, Revolution, and Mystic. “We need to find out which arrow made this mark.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“I have a plan.”

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Powerhouse followed a woman’s scream to the projects. He scanned the building with his x-ray vision. In the second apartment, a man had her in a headlock with a gun to her throat. “This looks like a job for Powerhouse!”

He burst in through the window.

The man released the woman. She pulled a weapon from her trench coat. Sev-eral men poured into the room and began firing. Powerhouse focused and visualized an exploding smoke bomb into existence.

High-powered fans dissipated the smoke and his assailants had on night vision goggles.

Powerhouse narrowed his eyes at a loud speaker with Night Lord’s silver on black logo. A voice said over the speaker, “Say good night, Powerhouse.”

He flew out.

Pain ripped through his exposed neck, with another wave right on its heels. His own blood choked him.

Struggling to breathe, he made it four miles before crash landing in the street. Cars honked and swerved around him.

Powerhouse tried to stand, but col-lapsed again, agony burning in his neck.

A police car pulled up. An officer jumped out. “What happened?”

“Shot,” he whispered with a groan.

The officer grabbed his radio. “We’ve got a gunshot victim at Roosevelt and Reynolds; dispatch an ambulance, now!”

Powerhouse’s eyes grew heavy. But if he closed them, they’d surely never open again.

He whispered, “God, help me. I don’t want to die.”

An ambulance arrived. Two EMS technicians struggled to get Powerhouse onto a cot. They pushed the cot with great effort into the ambulance. One sat in front while the other drove the ambulance.

Powerhouse whispered, “Naomi…   Naomi.”

“Who’s Naomi?” asked the technician riding in back with him.

What would happen to his wife and kids if he didn’t make it? How could he leave his kids to graduate without their father?

Strength began to seep back in.

At the hospital, the technicians strug-gled to get Powerhouse’s costume off. 

One screamed, “It won’t budge!”

“I can take care of that.” Powerhouse made his costume disappear, leaving on only his extra mask and his underwear.

A doctor said, “We need the mask off, too, sir.”

“No one sees the face of Power-house.”

She said, “Everybody out.”

Continued…Next Tuesday

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Small Packages stopped behind the two empty cottages between Payday’s and the shared digs. “Revelator’s tracks end here.”

Commander Justice said, “We should split up and head off in different directions to see where he went.”

The Sword shook his head. “We learned from the Defender what happens when we’re alone. Commander Justice, come with me. Revolution, you stay with Small Pack-ages and Skyscraper, and we’ll head off in separate directions. We’ll go about 500 yards. If we don’t find him, we’ll get every-one on it.”

After they had parted from Sword and Commander, Captain Revolution folded his arms. “Are you going to try and blame this on me, too?”

Small Packages frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just pointing out you were with me the last time Revelator was seen alive.”

 A hundred yards later, Small Packages stopped. “I see something to the right.”

They walked another ninety yards.

Small Packages grimaced.

On the ground lay Revelator’s uniform, with a large glop of blood on it.

We’ve got another hero gone and with him the most reliable way to find the killer.

He looked over at Captain Revolution.

Now, we’re back to square one.

Continued Next Monday in the Double Cross

Continued…Next Monday

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Sariah pointed to one of the comic books on the wall. “Remember that one?”

Rick nodded. “Small Packages #1. It had some of my best work.”

“A lot of these are, Rick. See, here is Payday #25. That was one of the better covers we put out.”

Rick pointed to another frame. “I see Jesse kept some of your best work. You were in college when you drew this. Captain Justice #595: ‘Bon Voyage.’ The farewell issue.” Rick pointed to one picture. “This wasn’t my best work. Commander Justice #220: ‘Twin Tower Tears.’”

“That didn’t matter to Jesse. It was the only comic for a real hero on 9/11.”

“I never understood that. Most of us wept on 9/11, but we got over it. Not Jesse. It seemed to define him.”

Sariah glanced over the far wall’s  col-lage of citations and thank you letters from the President, police departments, the FBI, and others for the work Jesse and the com-pany did, and this didn’t include commenda-tions received as the Sword. “If 9/11 defined Jesse’s life, he chose a good thing.”

“What does this have to do with my merger offer?”

“Everything. Frankly, I would sooner burn the building to the ground and person-ally hold on to every copyright rather than sell out to Awesome Comics. If your writers are the best in the business, how come we’re beating you in sales?”

“Your characters have a deep loyalty with readers, and your husband created one heck of distribution network.”

“That’s not all you can’t replicate. Your characters are all anti-social anti-heroes. No-body in their right mind would want their kids to use your heroes as a role model.”

“Glass houses, Sariah. We don’t publish Payday.”

That’s one I wouldn’t mind killing off. If it had been up to me, Sword Comics wouldn’t publish Payday either.

“Payday is sold with a parental advi-sory. It’s mild compared to your titles, and I’m not going to allow you to do the same thing to our heroes.”

Rick smiled. “I see there’s no point talking to you now. But, Sariah, I’ve gotten used to getting what I want. And it’s not a habit I intend to get out of. I will own Sword Comics, and I’ll get it for less than half of what I offered today.”

Sariah shuffled papers on her desk. “I think you know the way out.”

Continued…Next Monday

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Commander Justice stood outside the Sword’s door. Would the Sword even care what he had to say? It didn’t matter. He had to get it said. He knocked on the door.

“It’s open!” the Sword answered from within the medieval English cottage.

Commander Justice walked in.

The Sword stood. “Commander, how are you doing? Curador said that stab wound was pretty bad.”

“I had to change into my spare costume, but thanks to Curador I’m not too bad. I’ve been more woozy after donating blood.”

“You give blood? That is so excellent. It’s a behavior I haven’t really worked into a comic book, but it’s something we should definitely encourage. Maybe with a—”

“Sword! That’s not why I came. I came to confess.”

“To what?”

“Resenting you. As a Christian, I’m not supposed to hate or envy people. I’ve got to admit I resent you, and I probably hate you for what you’ve been doing to my family.”

“I don’t understand. When I took over Justice Comics, I made our first priority re-paying the Justice Family five million in royalties from when the previous owner used your name without paying you.”

“It’s not about the money, Sword. You’ve done fine with the money.”

“Then what?”

“You act like you invented supers. You’re the big boss, and we’re all mere sidekicks. Never mind that some of us have been doing this for years, or that my family has been doing this for generations. I know you realized on September 11 that real evil exists in the world. Some of us didn’t need two buildings to blow up to tell us that.”

The Sword sat down in his chair. “I’ve never meant anything by it, Commander. It’s just, for a company to succeed, it needs a strong promoter at the head of it. A voice. I can be that voice.”

“Sorry that my family was never great at self-promotion.”

“For not trying, you sure made a big impression in the Big Apple.”

“It’s not about promotion or comic books. It’d just be nice to be treated like someone who has been doing this since I was twelve rather than someone who just yesterday got their superpowers from an accident.”

“The Captain first took you out when you were twelve? That means you’ve been doing this—”

“About as long as you’ve been alive.”

“Commander, I apologize if I’ve not consulted you enough. I’ll try to do better.”

Skyscraper, Small Packages, and Cap-tain Revolution burst in. Small Packages said, “Hey, Sword. Where’s Revelator?”

“He headed over to the science camp to do some soil analysis with Data Bank.”

“When did he leave?”

“About an hour ago.”

“We checked there. Data Bank hasn’t seen Revelator since this morning.”

The Sword stood up. “Let’s go find him.” He turned to Commander Justice. “Care to come along?”

“I’d be glad to.”

Continued…Next Monday

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A ghost walked through the door. Sariah gripped Jesse’s desk and took a sharp intake of breath. “Rick?”

“My dear,” Rick swept in and planted a most unwelcome kiss on her cheek. “It’s been a long time. Too long.”

Not long enough. It’d been three years since she’d made her choice. Jesse, not Rick or the Sword—who turned out to be Jesse, but that was another story.

 What was Rick Westinghall doing back in her life? And being so forward? Her husband was supposed to be in a coma, not dead. Which he wasn’t. Whatever happened to that plane, the Sword would find a way back. He always did.

“Rick, what brings you here?”

And who gave him an appointment?

“I’m here officially as a courtesy call on behalf of my new employer.”

She glanced at her Blackbery’s appoint-ment calendar. “1:30-2:00 Awesome Com-ics. Courtesy Call.” Had she seen the name, she’d have cancelled. Handling competitors were Jesse’s forte, not her’s. “What’s your position with Awesome Comics?”

“Executive Vice-President. I run the place. Still manage a little drawing on the side. Who thought four years ago, when the hottest date we could afford was Wendy’s, that we’d command the two largest comic book empires in the world?”

I’d rather be at home taking care of my son, thanks. “Tell me, Rick. Did they train you to be a jerk at Awesome Comics, or did you have to take outside classes?”

“I’m not presenting myself well I take it?”

“The only reason I’m heading this com-pany is because my husband is in a coma. I can’t believe you would have the chutzpah to come here for social reasons.”

“Personally, I think you should pull the plug, grieve, and move on. It’s both selfish and unhealthy to hold on to him like this.”

She glared and pointed to the door.

He sent her a formerly-disarming smile and put up his hands in surrender. “But I can respect you not being ready to start dating a-gain—yet. If you need someone with you when you find the strength to do the right thing for Jesse and say goodbye, I’ll gladly be there for you.”

Why did I ever consider marrying this guy? “Not a chance, pal. Out.”

Rick chuckled. “Now, now. I meant as a friend, of course, and I do have business.”

“Fine.”

But be prepared to leave in a hurry.

“Times are tough, and I know this isn’t up your alley. I’ve been reading the product line, and it’s not been the same since Jesse left us. Your writers can’t function at a nor-mal comic book company, where you can’t talk to a hero and get their latest exploits down. At Awesome Comics we have the finest writers in the business.”

“What are you suggesting, Rick?”

“I’m suggesting that you sell us Sword Comics.”

Continued…Next Monday

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Dr. Baxter pulled the syringe out. “Cap, I expect you to take it easy and keep your leg elevated for two weeks, and be sure to put ice on it. See me back here then and we’ll evaluate what to do next. Usually, this injury takes 8-12 weeks to heal, but with your metabolism, you’ll make a remarkable recovery.”

Dr. Baxter drummed his fingers on his desk. “My medical opinion of your fitness to return to crime fighting is, once your injury heals, you can begin training. Your vitals were stable. What happened out there is you overdid it.”

“I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done when I was twenty-five.”

“You’re  not  twenty-five anymore. Not chronologically or physiologically. You’ve got to know your limits. In training you’ll establish those. During training, work eight hours a day, moving to ten after a month of training, and up to twelve after you’ve been out a while.”

“A forty hour work week? You’re kid-ding. Whoever heard of scheduling for a Superhero job?”

“The Sword, may he rest in peace. The Sword worked Monday-Thursday, 8-4:30, and Friday 8:00-Noon. He was on call on the weekends unless he was at the beach.”

I know bankers who work harder. “Who told you this?”

“The Commander. It miffed him.”

“If we had a city full of assistants like the Sword did, I guess I could schedule my life like that.”

“Something to think about.”

Captain Justice laughed. “Please, Doc. I’m not going to start Justice, Inc.”

“If you can get any help, take it.”

“People who can do my job are in short supply. Anyway, this medicine’s making me a little woozy. Can we go home?”

“Sure, but I’d also recommend adding more gadgets to your repertoire. It’ll give you an edge. ”

“Seems like cheating.”

“The only rule out there is stay alive.”

Dr. Baxter wheeled Captain Justice out into the empty parking lot of Baxter’s office.

Captain Justice heaved a sigh of relief. 

Thankfully, nobody else is around here on Sundays. Captain Justice in a wheelchair is embarrassing.

“One more thing, Cap. You need to tell your family. They deserve to know.”

Captain Justice groaned.

It’d be more fun to twist my knee again. Wally’s not going to be happy.

Continued…Next Monday

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Captain Justice heaved a sigh of relief as the pain receded.

Dr. Baxter pulled the syringe out. “Cap, I expect you to take it easy and keep your leg elevated for two weeks, and be sure to put ice on it. See me back here then and we’ll evaluate what to do next. Usually, this injury takes 8-12 weeks to heal, but with your metabolism, you’ll make a remarkable recovery.”

Dr. Baxter drummed his fingers on his desk. “My medical opinion of your fitness to return to crime fighting is, once your injury heals, you can begin training. Your vitals were stable. What happened out there is you overdid it.”

“I didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done when I was twenty-five.”

“You’re  not  twenty-five anymore. Not chronologically or physiologically. You’ve got to know your limits. In training you’ll establish those. During training, work eight hours a day, moving to ten after a month of training, and up to twelve after you’ve been out a while.”

“A forty hour work week? You’re kid-ding. Whoever heard of scheduling for a Superhero job?”

“The Sword, may he rest in peace. The Sword worked Monday-Thursday, 8-4:30, and Friday 8:00-Noon. He was on call on the weekends unless he was at the beach.”

I know bankers who work harder. “Who told you this?”

“The Commander. It miffed him.”

“If we had a city full of assistants like the Sword did, I guess I could schedule my life like that.”

“Something to think about.”

Captain Justice laughed. “Please, Doc. I’m not going to start Justice, Inc.”

“If you can get any help, take it.”

“People who can do my job are in short supply. Anyway, this medicine’s making me a little woozy. Can we go home?”

“Sure, but I’d also recommend adding more gadgets to your repertoire. It’ll give you an edge. ”

“Seems like cheating.”

“The only rule out there is stay alive.”

Dr. Baxter wheeled Captain Justice out into the empty parking lot of Baxter’s office.

Captain Justice heaved a sigh of relief. 

Thankfully, nobody else is around here on Sundays. Captain Justice in a wheelchair is embarrassing.

“One more thing, Cap. You need to tell your family. They deserve to know.”

Captain Justice groaned.

It’d be more fun to twist my knee again. Wally’s not going to be happy.

Continued…Next Monday

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Small Packages strolled to a twisted Halloween tree that Captain Revolution had perched in. “Hey, Red.”

Captain Revolution sighed and glared down at him. “What is it now?”

“Could you jump from that tree to that one a few feet away?”

“I don’t think there’s any actual super hero among us who couldn’t manage that. It’s only about a four foot leap.”

“Champion took a blood test. Data Bank found traces of a sedative called Seconal.”

“You know how annoying Champion is when he can’t sleep. Even the snoring is not as bad. I can’t get to sleep.”

“So you decided to slip him a drug. Do you realize that Seconal is addictive, not to mention illegal without a prescription in the United States?”

“The Chinese government authorizes me to carry it on my missions. It’s come in handy more times than you’d imagine.”

“Well, per Champion’s request, you’re getting a new roommate, Tarantula King, and he doesn’t drink. Thanks to the accident that gave us the mutant spider we all know and love, alcohol makes him deathly ill.”

“I trust he doesn’t snore.”

“Nah, he webbed down at our pad in Chicago. Slept like a baby tarantula. But that leaves you without an alibi.”

Captain Revolution laughed. “Why do I need an alibi? Only you think  Dark Mystic wasn’t behind what happened to Defender. What even makes you suspect otherwise?”

“The murder didn’t fit his MO. The lack of a body isn’t his style. That, plus the blood on the Defender’s coat.”

“Why would finding blood on his coat be an issue?”

“The blood was thick on the outside of the coat, but thin on the inside, indicating the blood seeped from the outside of the coat to the inside rather than from the inside of the coat to the outside.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that it looks really suspicious unless the Defender was wearing his coat inside out.”

“And you’ve picked me as the prime suspect to be the traitor.”

 “You declared your intent to violate his girlfriend because you’re a racist jerk and you know you’ll never get away with it as long as the rest of us are protecting her. You have no alibi because you drugged your roommate with an illegal sedative. You can easily leap from tree to tree without leaving tracks. Why shouldn’t I suspect you?”

Silence.

Small Packages said, “There’s one way to clear yourself.”

“And what is that?”

“Let Revelator scan your mind.”

“What if I don’t want to let him?”

“If you’re innocent, why not?”

Captain Revolution jumped down from the tree. “Very well. Oh, and, wherever you have that brother of yours hiding, have him come out.”

There goes my hope Captain Skinhead would panic and attack me.

“Come on, Skyscraper.”

Skyscraper came out from behind a large tree and joined them.

Captain Justice hurled a smoke grenade into the midst of the drug dealers in the alley. He dashed in with his night vision goggles on. He got the first thug on the chin, knocking him to the ground. He unholstered his tranquilizer gun and fired at the second.

 Dart after dart found their target until seven thugs lay sprawled on the ground. Never understood the ropes the other heroes used. Tranqs were less work and easier for the police to pick up.

He walked through the alley. One got away. Only one place he could have gone. Over the wall.

Captain Justice charged the wall and leapt clean over the ten-foot obstruction. The fleeing drug dealer’s footsteps echoed in the distance. Captain Justice sped through the alley. Almost on the drug dealer.

The thug glanced back and sped up.

As if that’ll help you.

He turned a corner. The dealer had van-ished. He stared up. Nothing. Focusing, a faint orange glowed appeared around every heat source. He scanned down the street. Nothing. He turned left onto another alley.

A garbage can up against the brick wall showed the bright orange glow of a human heat pattern.

Ah ha! Captain Justice lunged towards the bottom of the trash can, overturning it.

The drug dealer tumbled out. Captain Justice jumped onto the thug’s chest and grabbed the gun out of his hand.

Captain Justice aimed his tranq gun and fired a shot into the perpetrator’s arm. A second later, the guy was out cold. Captain Justice hoisted the drug dealer on his back, ran back to the wall and jumped over it, this time only clearing it by two inches. He placed the drug dealer near his compatriots with the evidence. The police would find them.

Captain Justice walked away.

A spasm ripped up his leg.

He crumpled to the pavement, clutched his knee, and screamed. With effort, he soft-ened the noise tearing out of him to a moan.

Dr. Baxter’s laundry truck pulled up in front of the alley. Doc jumped out of the car and ran over. “Cap, what happened?”

“I think I tore something.”

Dr. Baxter hoisted him up, offering his shoulder as a crutch. “Let’s get back to the office. I’ll figure out what happened.”

Captain Justice limped to the laundry truck. If I can’t handle one simple mission, how can I ever go back?

Continued…Next Monday

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Dr. Lenny Baxter sat in a laundry truck, monitoring Captain Justice’s vitals. Stable. The radio crackled. “Doc, I see something.”

Heart rate up. Lenny pressed the button on his two way radio. “What is it, Cap?”

“A drug deal. Big. Looks like eight guys down there. Cops would take months to set this up, and I just stumbled into it.”

“I’ll call the police, Cap.”

“No time.”

“I agreed to monitor your vitals against a single opponent. This is too much.”

“Sorry to ruin the test.”

Heart rate way up.

“Cap?”

Continued…Next Monday

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Jason Justice stood on a rooftop in New York, overlooking an alley. Could Captain Justice come back? Only one way to answer the question.

A man with a gun crouched in the alley, waiting for his victim. A well-dressed man in his early forties walked by. The mugger pointed his gun at the man. “Get in here, real quick.”

The man walked into the alley.

“Time to go to work.” Captain Justice stared up at the sky in silent prayer. God, please help me.

Captain Justice dived down from the sky. His feet landed right on the mugger’s jaw, knocking him away.

The mugger stood, grabbed his gun, and turned to Jason. The mugger dropped his gun. “I give. I can’t fight freakin’ Captain Justice.”

He blinked. “Why not?”

“Man, I grew up on your comic. What chance a mug like me got? Even if I could kill you, my whole family would hate me. You’re an icon. It’d be like I shot Babe Ruth or the Statue of Liberty.”

“I see.”

Captain Justice tied up the mugger and returned the money to its owner. Now to find a criminal with less deference.

Continued…Next Monday

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Lenny sat in his kitchen table, playing solitaire cribbage. As usual, he lost. He’d never known anyone who won solitaire, not even Reverend Jones.

He choked back tears. He had to do something. He went to the closet and grab-bed his bugle from his days in the military, so long ago.

Outside, he lowered the flag that hung on his stair rail to half-mast. He began to play taps for his dear friend.

At five, a night crew nurse clocked in. Her boss handed her a clean bed pan. “Go check on Mrs. Kennedy. She sat up at one o’clock and has been in that position ever since. We can’t get her to lay down.”

The nurse went about changing Mrs. Kennedy’s bedpan. “Shame about Reverend Jones. Shot by some animal. Real shame.”

She looked up. Tears streamed down Mrs. Kennedy’s cheeks.

Jimmy Olsen sat along side two of his friends on the basketball court. “Wanna play horse?”

Kenny Chung shook his head. “I don’t feel like it.”

Jimmy picked up a stone. “Yeah, me neither.”

Silence fell.

Jimmy sniffled. Pastor Jones taught them how to shoot hoops. It wasn’t fair. Powerhouse would make sure the bad guy never hurt anyone else, but who would be there for them?  Jimmy threw the stone as hard as he could. “Let’s go. Maybe we’ll feel more like playing tomorrow.”

Continued…Next Tuesday

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Small Packages walked up to Captain Revolution, who was outside exercising.

 “Hello, Revolution.”

China’s champion grunted. “What have I done to deserve your visit?”

“Nothing I hope. I’m only verifying where everybody was last night when the incident occurred with the Defender.”

“It wasn’t my night to keep watch, so I was in bed. Ask Champion.”

Small Packages nodded. “Yeah, he said you went to bed about 11:30 PM. He went right to sleep.”

“I think that’s all there is to it.”

He wasn’t about to let it go just like that. “You hear him snore any?”

“Every night.”

“Like a train, right?”

“That’s an excellent analogy.”

Yeah, but it means something funny’s going on. “I had Champion in Chicago for a week, and I heard him snore. He needs to go to a sleep disorder clinic.”

“He must have snored a lot.”

“Nope, once. The guy’s got insomnia something awful.” Small Packages stared into Captain Revolution’s eyes. “He never goes right to sleep.”

Sweat poured off Captain Revolution’s brow and his eyes darted away. “Well, this is a different climate, and our days are very stressful.”

“Yeah, that must be it.” Had nothing to do with you and Champion having a glass of wine before bed. Five gets you ten that ol’ Revolution slipped something in the drink

Continued…Next Monday

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