|
#1
JUL 08 |
 |
Other Earth, Part One:
“Strangers in a Strange Land”
The sun beat down on Gotham City. It was nearly mid-day in the middle of February and the sky was clear, save for a few lingering clouds left over from the previous night’s snowfall. On the street, people walked, drove, went about their days in relative peace. The sound of footsteps and tires in slush was constant.
From behind the tall, flipped-up collar of his trench coat John Jones squinted, nearly blinded by the glare of sunlight off the puddles of melting snow in the street. He breathed slowly and deeply, the thick cold air numbing his nostrils and tickling his lungs. John stood rigid with his back against the brick wall in an alley between two towering buildings. The ground beneath his feet was nearly spotless and the alley itself was empty from opening to dead end, save for the standing John, with no dumpsters or trash bags lining the narrow walls. It made John feel more out of place than usual.
Across the crowded street outside of the alley, two gangs of young men were in the middle of a brawl and a smaller group of people had stopped on the sidewalk to watch the street fight. The fighters were all between 15 and 25 years old and wore their respective groups’ colors; midnight blue and a thick grey on one side, stark black and white on the other. None of the onlookers ran from the fight and none seemed afraid that one of the brawlers might be thrown back into them or, worse, that a gun might be pulled. In fact, several of the spectators cheered as they all stared intently at the scene of this terrible crime.
John watched the fight, the onlookers and the passing cars filled with people who seemed not to care either way about what was happening around them. He took another deep, controlled breath through his mouth this time; as the chill air passed over his tongue he could taste the temperature and the air itself.
This was not the first time that John Jones – or J’onn J’onnz as his friends called him – had felt out of place in a new world. Nevertheless, after a month in this place he still could not get comfortable. The taste of the air, the feel of the ground beneath his feet and the people around him all contributed to his continual unease. Whereas it had simply frustrated him the first time he had felt this discomfort, now it actually made him feel better. It told him (or perhaps he was telling himself), however subtly, that he could never get used to being in this place.
J’onn? Are you still there?
Dr. Palmer’s voice echoed and the Manhunter from Mars turned his attention from the outside world to the voice inside his head. Apologies, Ray, J’onn thought, his mental voice just as bass as the one he used when speaking aloud. I was…distracted. You were saying?
Nothing you haven’t heard me say before, I’m afraid. Ray’s voice sounded resigned, almost defeated. J’onn thought he was probably just tired. This place, Ray continued, simply defies all logic. There were things we knew about it coming in, sure, but a lot of it just does not make any sense.
That, my friend, is not something you need convince me of.
Well, yes, from a behavioral standpoint, of course, but I mean from a simple scientific perspective.
J’onn was walking now, still observing and trying to pick up as much as he could about the people around him. He was familiar with the Gotham of his home universe and there was something about the city he was in now that didn’t strike him as odd so much as interesting. The Gotham he knew was crime-ridden and her residents seemed to live in a state of constant tension. Here, though, the people seemed much more comfortable in the city. Before beginning this study, he hadn’t even considered the possibility that there might be aspects of this world that were actually better than in his own universe. No world, he thought now, was ever as black and white as it might seem on the surface.
Ray was continuing and J’onn was listening despite his musing. The physics here are mind-boggling. A lot of it is very similar to basic Cazurian physics in our own universe (which, honestly, I have a hard time getting my head around that stuff as it is), but the differences lie in the fundamental differences of the ‘verse. Right is left. Up is down. Matter is anti-matter. I spent the first two and a half weeks of our study here just acclimating myself to these basic truths.
As did I, J’onn interjected.
Of course, we all did, but even an understanding of that doesn’t help entirely. I can tell you that the mineral make-up of the average soil sample here is the exact opposite of what it is at home. Percentages of elements in the ground, in the air, it’s all backwards to what we know. I can tell you that math is different here – math! And it’s not even that 2 + 2 = 5, because that I could at least make heads or tails of, but it’s that the symbols are completely different. Language evolved differently, as did technology and civilization, from the Romans and even before then. Their mythology is different. Jesus betrayed Judas, Cain killed Abel in self-defense, and Adam was tempted by God to eat the fruit of the tree of knowledge. The very fundamental principles on which civilization is based and by which people live their lives is…reversed. I can tell you all of these things, J’onn, but I can’t tell you the one thing that I want to know more than anything else about this place. I cannot tell you why.
J’onn heard a sigh in his voice. He spoke as warmly and calmly as he could. I think that your desire to answer that question is the reason Bruce asked you to be a part of this study in the first place.
Ray laughed. Really? I could’ve sworn it was to keep Plas in line.
That task, I’m afraid, J’onn communicated with a smile, falls to a much braver man than you or I.
Lex Luthor was nearing his breaking point.
When the Justice League had contacted him, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The heroes of this other Earth were sending a team to complete an observational study of the planet and Lex welcomed the opportunity to act as a liaison to these visitors from another universe.
Further, things had been happening that, in Lex’s mathematical mind, didn’t add up. The Crime Syndicate of Amerika, unofficial rulers of Earth, seemed to be behaving strangely. They continued to reign over the people of the planet with ruthless efficiency, meting out punishment where necessary. However, the frequency with which they made their presence known - as if one could forget that they were there, always watching - had lessened over a three-month period.
Perhaps the Syndicate were preparing for something. Perhaps their plan was to lull people into a false sense of relaxation before returning with a renewed vigor and vengeance; this had happened before, after all, but never for longer than a month. Or perhaps, he had mused to himself half-jokingly, one of the team’s members had finally killed the others. It was unlikely, Lex thought, as no one member of the team would be powerful enough to overcome the others. Still, the idea of it brought a smile to Lex’s face. Whatever the case may be, be it preparation or internal chaos, something wasn’t right and Lex could feel it. It was in the air. He just knew.
Upon hearing from the Justice League, Lex was immediately optimistic. The arrival of the League would, hopefully, afford him some assistance in his investigation into the strange goings-on of his world. Lex’s mind was keen but his detective skills were hardly up to the level of the other Earth’s Batman or the Martian Manhunter. Surely with their help he could get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
Plastic Man, on the other hand, offered Lex’s investigation a different set of skills entirely.
He could turn himself into a giant magnifying glass, for instance.
Lex stood, his hands folded behind his back, perfectly still, surveying the scene in front of him. A sharp wind cut across the roof on which he and his pliable companion were situated, kicking up a layer of dirt and dust that had rested on the roof. Lex’s attention, however, was not diverted from the large scorch mark that was conspicuously present on the surface near of the helipad of the Metropolis General Hospital roof.
Plastic Man was pacing around the roof; Lex found that, everywhere they went, Plastic Man paced. This was the third site that they had visited in the past week and the pacing was starting to grate on Lex’s nerves. “Mr. O’Brian,” Lex said as calmly as possible, “we have a short window of time here before the Syndicate’s regular sweep covers this area again. Please try to focus on the task at hand and help me look for anything unusual.”
“Do me a favor,” Plastic Man said, never pausing from his constant movement, seemingly oblivious to Lex’s request. “Remind me again of why we’re here.”
“Four nights ago, there was a break in here, or an attempted break-in anyway. The Crime Syndicate stopped it.”
“Wait, they actually…stopped a crime?”
“Technically, but only technically,” Lex explained. “The perpetrators were smuggling much-needed medical supplies into the hospital. I said it was a break in, not a robbery. Also, they were hospital staff. The Syndicate, for whatever reason, finds it necessary to ration the supplies that most hospitals receive, so much so that defiance of those rations is illegal. Had the staffers responsible been caught by authorities other than the Syndicate, they could’ve been prosecuted. So, yes, in the most technical sense, the Crime Syndicate stopped a crime, but the larger implication is that stopping that crime serves their interests. It’s the only reason they do anything, really.”
“Okay, I’m still trying to get my head around this,” Plas said emphatically, twisting his head around his body several times as he spoke. “Helping people that need help is a crime?”
Lex crouched down and ran his hand across the edge of the scorch mark. “We seem to have returned to the fundamental problem that you have with this world.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell ya why that is: nothing here makes any flippin’ sense!”
Lex smiled. “Indeed.”
“I mean, they’re called the Crime Syndicate! Doesn’t that mean that they, I don’t know, like crime?”
“It’s actually because crossing them is a crime. Superwoman explained it to me once, during one of our more mundane encounters.”
Finally, Plastic Man stopped moving. “Huh. That actually kind of makes sense.” He paused briefly, then shook his head. “I mean, it still doesn’t at all. They’re still the bad guys.”
“Not here they aren’t,” Lex interjected. “It’s not so much that they revel in their crime; it’s more that here, on this Earth, they’re not committing any crimes. People fear them, yes, but only the people that you and I would consider to be good people. Everyone else actually enjoys having them around.”
“And we’re back to nothing making any sense. You had me for a second, Lex.”
“I understand that it’s difficult to comprehend. Upon discovering the existence of your Earth, it took me nearly an hour to understand the implications of what my finding meant. And I am, arguably, the smartest man on this planet and possibly yours as well. What it comes down to is this, Mr. O’Brian: it’s all a matter of perspective.”
Plastic Man stood in silent thought for a long moment. Lex again ran his finger over the edge of the scorch, pressing slightly harder this time. He looked closely at the tip of his finger, bringing it to his face. Finally a light bulb appeared over Plas’s head. “I get it! It’s like that episode of The Twilight Zone with the people with the pig faces!”
Lex stood from his crouching position and turned to the strange man next to him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied flatly, “but if that helps you, then yes, it’s exactly like that. In the meantime, I believe I’ve found something.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. There were four perpetrators to this break in, of which Ultraman and Superwoman dispatched of three by various means. The fourth somehow managed to escape. This scorch mark is all that remains of one of the intruders, courtesy of Ultraman’s heat vision. However, there are elements of the crime scene that simply should not be here.”
“What’s that?”
“Soot. Well, more accurately they’re carbon emissions, as if from the burning of a fuel. I even noticed, as I got closer to the ground, the faint smell of petroleum. Curious…”
“So what are you thinking?”
Lex motioned for Plastic Man to follow him as he started toward the building access door. “I’m thinking we need to get off of this rooftop before we’re spotted. And we need to talk to the fourth perpetrator if we can find him. We’ll talk to hospital staff, see if there’s anyone that hasn’t been showing up for work the past four days.”
Plastic Man punched the palm of his left hand with his other fist and smiled. “Holy investigation, Lex! Let’s go!”
Lex shook his head and sighed to himself. “Why couldn’t it have been Elongated Man…”
I can’t imagine having to live here permanently, Ray thought, a note of sadness in his mental voice. How Lex does it is beyond me.
It is important to understand that he doesn’t know anything else, J’onn thought. Clearly he is uncomfortable here or he would not have sought us out in the first place to ask for our help. Still, for the people that live here, Lex himself included, this is just how things are. They don’t know anything different.
And ignorance is bliss, Ray replied, a hint of sarcasm evident.
J’onn smiled. Hardly bliss. Contentment, perhaps. Comfort. The only ones who feel any sort of true happiness here are those who take pleasure in the discomfort of others. That, of course, is why the Crime Syndicate thrives.
Preaching to the choir, J’onn. Have you considered—
I hate to interrupt, J’onn said abruptly, but…
J’onn’s thought trailed off as the Manhunter from Mars stepped into yet another of Gotham City’s many blind alleys. He closed his eyes, focusing on not external sound but internal. He heard a brief rustling and his eyes shot open.
Ray was getting nervous. What is it, J’onn?
We are being eavesdropped upoOOOF!
A hard blow to the back caught J’onn off guard and the tall man fell forward, his brown fedora flying off of his head and into the hands of the stranger behind him. The attacker took a deep sniff at the brown hat and nodded his head as if to confirm a suspicion. He then discarded it into the empty alleyway and focused on the Manhunter.
John Jones rose from his knee and appeared to melt away the human guise that hid his true form. Within the blink of an eye, the form of John Jones was replaced by that of the Martian Manhunter. His red eyes shrank to slivers as he examined his attacker, first physically, then peering beyond the man’s eyes to what was within his mind. With the blunt force of a proverbial baseball bat, J’onn was forced out of the man’s mind, back into his own.
Stay down, he heard rumble within his head. The voice of his attacker was not aloud but telepathic.
J’onn, of course, did not stay down.
With tremendous speed, he rocketed straight on into the man. With an even greater agility and surprising strength, the man dodged the attack and grabbed the Manhunter by the neck. A swift motion of forceful momentum control later and J’onn’s face smashed into the brick exterior of the adjacent building.
His thoughts reached out to question the motivations of this attack, but they were ignored. All the while, Ray Palmer yelled telepathically.
J’onn?! Yet no answer came. What’s going on down there?
The Martian Manhunter, more caught off-guard than physically injured, attempted to pull himself from the ground, but his attacker maintained a firm hold around his neck. With minimal effort, he contorted the structure of his neck, which enabled him to free himself. He pushed his attacker far enough away that he was able to regain his composure and it was then that he realized that he had not been jumped by a lone aggressor. There were now a half dozen men, all dressed similarly and all equally as intimidating. It was then that J’onn knew what they were.
J’onn! the Atom’s voice continued.
Ray, quiet, please, J’onn finally replied.
The Martian Manhunter backed away slowly, configuring his strategy within his complex brain as he moved. The gang that he faced all had very familiar characteristics. Their pale brown skin showed heavy traces along the vein lines, the color of deep ocean depths, the pupils in the eyes were huge and pure black. The sides of their throats bulged and subsided as they breathed. Their leader, the forerunner of this assault, was especially familiar. J’onn had been attacked by Atlanteans and the assault was being spearheaded by Black Manta.
Silently, the Martian Manhunter moved toward the group, his eyes building into a blaze of red just before a smoldering flash of energy burst from his glowing orbs. The blast scorched through the cold winter air, barely missing the lead man. Had J’onn been trying, Black Manta’s doppelganger would surely be a baked ruin. However, murder was not the Martian’s intent.
The six Atlanteans rallied around their leader, closing the gap between them and the Manhunter, their gills throbbing almost in unison as they readied for the confrontation. Black Manta gave a silent gesture of consent and the Atlanteans pounced. The Manhunter flared out several eye beams that purposely missed as he was piled upon.
Pay attention, Ray, but maintain silence, Manhunter’s mind mumbled as silently as possible. Something is happening and I’m going to go with it.
He used the malleability of his natural shape-shifting physiology to dampen the damage he would have taken as he allowed the Atlanteans to subdue him. After several minutes, when all of his attacker’s violent tendencies had been adequately fulfilled, J’onn feigned unconsciousness and waited for what would happen next.
“Take him to the king now,” Black Manta rasped through his quickly dehydrating vocal cords. “With the Martian by our side, we will have all the help that we need now.”
The Atlantean thugs slid open a nearby sewer lid and chucked it to the side. Two entered into the circular hole before another handed the Martian Manhunter’s limp body down to them. The others followed into the sewage system with Black Manta replacing the sewer lid as he left the scene.
In the darkness of the subterranean drainage system, the Atlanteans tread single file to their ultimate destination.
Ray Palmer, Black Manta spoke with his mind, a rippling wave of thought almost visible in the current dank and vile atmosphere. If you wish for your friend to live, you will join us in one hour. You will know where.
Miles away, the Atom listened to the Atlantean’s voice in his head. When Manta had finished speaking, Ray indeed knew where to meet his teammate’s captors.
One hour later.
Happy Harbor, Rhode Island.
“Show yourself!” Black Manta’s voice echoed in the large, empty cave. Several yards away, his cohorts hovered around the still-fallen Martian Manhunter. Water crept into the cave as the early-evening tide was beginning to rise.
“You can’t take him from us,” Manta continued. “He’s far too important to what we have planned.”
“Alright!”
The tiny voice came from right next to where Manta stood and sounded more like the squeak of a mouse than actual words. A moment later the full-sized form of the Atom stared Manta in the face. “You’ve piqued my curiosity,” the mighty mite conceded. “What’s going on here?”
Slowly, J’onn stirred. Manta turned to his fellow Atlanteans and waved a hand. “Let him up. This concerns him too.”
Ray crossed the cave to steady his rising friend. “Are you all right?”
“I appear to be,” J’onn replied quietly. “Where are we?”
“Happy Harbor. The Secret Sanctuary. I think they must’ve plucked the location from our minds.”
“Your intuition matches your intellect, Dr. Palmer,” Manta replied snidely.
J’onn’s eyes flared. “What do you want?”
“Another fight would be pointless, Martian. Suffice it to say that you two are now prisoners of King Orm of Atlantis.”
“And what,” Ray interjected, “does King Orm have planned for us?”
Manta smiled grimly. “You two are going to help us destroy the Crime Syndicate.”
|
|
|
To Be Continued...
Next Issue: In Justice League #2: The focus shifts as Lex Luthor and Plastic Man’s investigation continues! What will they find and to what strange location will it lead them? Meanwhile, the Martian Manhunter and the Atom find themselves at the center of a plot to take down the Crime Syndicate! And you’ll never believe who shows up to help them!
Previous Issue | Next Issue