Chapter
1
A
sea of fans cheered on John Smith as he swiftly dodged player after
player. He ran with such speed, the opponent had almost no time at
all to react; they would lunge at him, only to grasp an after-shadow.
Smith continued sprinting down the field, even after he had passed
the entire defense. He decided to end the game with a bang, giving
the fans one last show before the end. The handsome running back put
every ounce of energy he had into his legs, and pushed himself down
the field to the 30...the 20...the 10 and...
FWEEEEEEEEEEEET!
"TOUCHDOWN!
SMITH WINS THE GAME FOR PRINCETON, AND THE CROWD IS GOING WILD!"
The announcer in the press box was joining in the excitement of the
fans, his voice carrying across the field to reach the ears of John
Smith. He shouted, hollered, and pumped his fists towards the crowd
as his teammates lifted him onto their shoulders. They shook hands
with the other team and marched proudly to their locker room.
It
was the December of 1937, and the All-American athlete had just won
the state tournament for his football team.
Everybody
knew that Johnny Smith was the best football player in the country,
and they knew that he was also one of the strongest and fastest guys
in the entire state. What they didn't know was that John was also
a mystery man in his spare time, fighting crime and injustice as
ALL-STAR, THE GREAT AMERICAN HERO!
All-star
was incredible at what he did; he had never once
come across an enemy he could not defeat. He was always on the
radio, often sponsored new products for big companies, and even had
his own charity foundation, where he often volunteered. Yes, the
21-year-old hero really was all he said he was: an all-star human.
***
John
stepped out of the locker room, waving good-bye to his teammates,
congratulating them all on a job well done and promising to stop by
the bar later for a drink. As he walked down the sidewalk, John
heard a familiar sound: "Help! Somebody help!"
Ah,
music to my ears, thought John as he quickly
dashed into the nearby admissions building. He ran towards the men's
bathroom and ducked into the stall closest to the wall. John locked
the door to make sure no one saw what was about to happen: he reached
for an oddly colored spot on the wall and pushed it open. Inside,
hanging as if it had just been cleaned and pressed, was his costume,
the piece de resistance to any crime fighter.
With
nearly inhuman speed, he threw off his street clothes and pulled on a
pair of golden-brown pants. John then removed a jersey from the
hole; he swiftly pulled it over his head and stuck his arms through
the sleeves. Next, he took a pair of tanned cleats from his hiding
spot and stuck them on his feet. Finally, he crowned his head with a
nearly golden football helmet and pulled one last item from the hole:
a pair of tinted pilot goggles.
The
hero placed the goggles over his eyes, laced up his cleats, and
snapped his helmet into place. He shoved his civilian clothes into
the hole and ran out of the building; he ran so fast that he seemed
like a blur to the few people in the lobby. All-star hurried in the
direction of the scream he had heard and in an instant, he saw a
large crowd gathered outside of the local church.
"Looks
like I got here just in time!" He rushed over
to a nearby police officer and asked, "Officer, what seems to be
the problem?"
Luther
Sullivan, the officer that All-star was questioning, turned to his
friend and said, "All-star, good timing! We have a hostage
situation right now. Seems our old friend Blackjack has decided to
go to church."
"And
it doesn't look like he's here for Confession," the hero
quipped.
"Exactly.
Now, we know that he has at least ten people in there, as well as
Father O'Malley. He is armed, and he is dangerous." The
policeman turned to All-star and asked him, "Think you
can ge-", but he never finished the sentence, as the hero had
already run into the church.
Meanwhile, in the steeple...
A
somewhat-tall man stood at the altar, one hand in his coat pocket,
the other holding a gun, which Father O' Malley was currently
staring down. The man carrying the firearm was Tom 'Blackjack'
Swift, a 'supercriminal', a title that he bore proudly. He wore
a long, white trenchcoat, decorated with a black club and ace on the
bottom, and a red diamond and heart on his chest; the rest of his
outfit was black and white, and merely resembled a regular suit.
Blackjack, while not the smartest man in the world, was one of the
craftiest, and made this known with his gambling-theme weapons, all
of which were lethal.
"So
preacher," the villain Blackjack grinned toothily, "are you a
gamblin' man?"
"W-we-well,
gambling is a sin. God f-frowns on all who are corrupted by that
hideous sin!"
"HAHAHA!
Oh, that's a laugh, preacher!" Blackjack was bent over
laughing, his voice echoing all throughout the building. "God
condemns all gamblers! Hah! What a joke!"
He
turned towards the old man and sneered, saying "If God really does
hate me so much, then let me see a sign!" He turned his head
toward the crucifix on the wall and shouted, "Hey, Jesus! Tell the
big guy that I'm a horrible man, and that if he wants me to stop,
he should send a sign from above!"
"I
guess that's my cue!"
Blackjack
spun around in time for a fist to hit him square in the face. His
enemy taunted, "Here, Jackie, hold this for me!"
The
villain flew back 10 feet and crashed right into the altar. He gazed
at the figure that was untying the hostages: it was none other than
that goody-two-shoes All-star. Blackjack quickly leapt to his feet
and withdrew a handkerchief, a cigar, and a lighter from his jacket;
he cleaned away the blood that was streaming from his nose, and
popped the cigar in his mouth and lit it. "Well,
well...if it isn't the white bread 'mystery man' All-star! To
what do I owe the misfortune?"
All-star
turned from the old man he had been helping up, and said, "Blackjack,
I knew you were a bad guy, but I never figured you would stoop so low
as to rob a church!"
"Eh,
what can I say? It's the biggest church in the area, so naturally
it should have the most funds stored away." Blackjack stopped and
took the cigar out of his mouth, blowing thick smoke into the air.
"I just wanted to see if the father would be up for a little game
of Blackjack 21; nothing too big."
He
paused once again to puff even more smoke from his mouth. "Guess
he just blind to the advantages of gambling."
Another
pause, another thicker, bilious cloud of smoke filled the room.
"Almost like there was smoke in his eyes!" At this he blew one
great, big cloud of smoke past his lips, and the whole room seemed
full of the foul-smelling gas.
Darn!
thought All-star, I can't see anything in
this smoke, but I have to find him...before he finds me!
Suddenly, the sound of rolling dice reached All-star's ears, and
he heard the sound stop right below him. Oh
no! Got to move before-
BOOOOMMM!
He
jumped to the left just before the dice blew up; unfortunately, he
caught a glancing blow from the explosion, and felt a wave of pain
through his body. The hero grasped his right arm in pain, feeling
the singed flesh and the torn jersey.
The
sound of laughter echoed throughout the smoke-filled building.
"Hahaha! How are you gonna stop me this time, quarter-back?"
"Oh,
don't worry," the bold hero said, "I always find a way!"
"Well,
we'll see about that! Now, how 'bout a little game, hmm?"
All-star
paid close attention: Blackjack was a skilled gambler, but he wasn't
very bright. Thinking quickly, the hero backed up until he hit a
wall. He gave his reply, "All right, Blackjack, I'll play your
game!"
"Okay
sucker, it's your life! AHAHAHAHA!"
All-star
just had to keep him talking for a little while longer, long enough
for him to find a window. Blackjack continued laughing sadistically
as he began to throw his whole arsenal at his opponent: exploding
dice, razor cards, and giant poker chips. The hero simply dodged the
projectiles, and continued to inch along the wall, until he thought,
Aha! I found one!
He
called out to the crook, "Hey Jackie! I'll give you one last
shot at me! If you hit me, I'll surrender; if I win, however, you
must go to jail!"
"We-e-ell,
if that's the way you want to die, that's fine by me!"
Blackjack removed a massive contraption from his jacket: it was
similar to a tommy gun in design, only the round
magazine had been altered so that it was red and black like a
roulette wheel. "I'll put it all on 13 black!" With that, he
pulled the trigger, and the gun started firing. All-star fell to the
floor in order to dodge the bullets, and thought, "Just have to
wait until-"
CRRRRR-KKKKIIIIIISSSSSHHH!
The
glass window behind him shattered completely, and the cloud of smoke
immediately began to flow out of the building.
"Hey,
hold on! What gives?!" Blackjack was panicking. All of his
protective smoke was going away. And that meant...
WHAM!
"Sorry,
Blackjack, looks like it's snake-eyes for you!"
***
All-star
walked triumphantly out of the church, aiding the wounded priest to
the medics that had arrived. The gathered crowd cheered and All-star
smiled and waved to the crowd. Another victory. That day just kept
getting better and better for the hero. "Thank you, thank you.
Thank you!" Soon, reporters were swarming the hero, buzzing around
like flies to sugar.
"All-star,
what happened?"
"How
did you take him down?"
"What
will happen to Blackjack?"
"Will
this be on your talk-show?"
Police
officers began to back the crowd away, insisting on giving the hero
some breathing room. All-star walked over to Sergeant Price, who
greeted him with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "Job
well done, All-star. You did good."
"Thanks,
Sergeant; glad I could be of assistance!" replied the tired hero.
"'Assistance'?
All-star, you did the whole job for us!" The officer chuckled and
patted the hero on his shoulder. "With you mystery men on the job,
we policemen hardly have to do anything!" He walked back to his
police and gave All-star a mock salute. "Take care, All-star! Oh,
and watch that shoulder!"
All-star
smiled, nodded, and returned the salute. "See ya, Sergeant!"
With
that, the vigilante sprinted away to return to his civilian identity;
he needed to go clean up at his apartment before he could meet the
boys for a drink. "I should bring Mary along," thought the hero,
"She has been wanting to meet the team for some time now."
He
made it to the building, but before he could enter the restroom stall
that held his costume, he noticed something was
out of place. Is someone actually using the
stall?! thought the crimson-clad hero. I
could've sworn I left an 'Out of Order' sign on there!
He
tapped his foot impatiently against the ground. Time slowed down to
a crawl for those three minutes. He let his mind wander, thinking
about how he had been able to help the team win the state game, how
he had stopped another robbery, and how he was going to have a nice
evening out with the boys tonight. And Mary. Sweet, beautiful, and
patient
Mary.
Oh
yes, thank heaven that Mary Duncan was patient. Patience was
something that she possessed in abundance, which really helped
All-star and John whenever there was an emergency. If he needed to
arrive at a restaurant later than he planned, she would pout, but say
"Oh that's fine. It gives me more time to get ready!"
If
he couldn't make a date because he was injured from a fight with
Blackjack or The Gladiator, she would pout, but reply "Well, okay,
if you need to rest." Mary never tried to pry into his personal
life, and she had not been caught in any crossfire. Yes, things were
great between him and Mary.
"Hope
they stay that way for a long time," the collegiate crusader
murmured.
Finally,
after what seemed an eternity to the hero, he heard the toilet
flushing. He stepped aside as the door swung open and the Dean of
Students walked out. The Dean saw who was waiting by the door, and
gasped. "O-oh! All-star, it's you! What are you doing here?"
All-star
simply gave a chuckle and replied, "Even heroes have to use the
bathroom sometimes, dean."
The
hero entered the stall and locked the door. He waited until he heard
the dean leaving and then let out a deep sigh. How
does that man always find me whenever I'm about to change back into
my civilian identity? thought the masked
defender as he pulled his ruined uniform off his body.
"Guess
I'll be making a stop at the tailors!" he groused while he
examined the shredded costume.
Meanwhile, outside the admissions
building...
A
long, black car pulled up to the curb of the admissions office, and
two men stepped out of the vehicle. They were dressed neatly, both
wearing business suits, and one of the men wore a pair of sunglasses;
the other carried around a briefcase. They entered the building, and
walked to the desk, where an argument was in full commencement.
"I'm
telling you, Miss Taylor, he was in there!"
"Mr.
Wright, I'm sorry, but I know that you are lying."
"Lying?!
What do you mean by 'lying'?"
"All I'm saying is that whenever you claim you saw All-star, we
check, but he's never there! It's probably just a figment of
your imagination."
"Miss Taylor, I'm--"
*a-hem*
Mr.
Wright and Miss Taylor stopped their argument and turned to the men
that were waiting behind the desk. The one without sunglasses spoke
first: "Good evening, sir. Ma'am. I'm Richard Carpenter, and
this is my partner Howard Tassel." The one with the suitcase
extended his hand to the dean and secretary. "We're here on an
errand for the President of the United States."
Dean Wright was flabbergasted to say the least. The
President?! Sending agents here?! "Wha-whatever for, gentlemen?!"
he asked in a controlled voice.
Carpenter
spoke while his partner waited on the side; "We're here to meet
with the boy who won the game this afternoon", he said. He smiled
at the dean and secretary's shocked faces. "Yes, we're here to
see Mr. John Smith, the next All-star American!"
At
that exact moment, John Smith stepped out of the men's bathroom,
carrying a duffel bag across his shoulders. He waved to the dean,
and said, "Afternoon, Dean! Miss Taylor, how're you?"
She
became entranced in his appearance, and replied, in a seduced voice,
"Oh, hello John! Congratulations on today's game." She was
about to get more flirtatious, but a cough from Agent Tassel reminded
her that they were, in fact, still in the room. "Oh, Mr. Smith,
these two gentlemen are here to see you."
John
shook hands with the two agents, and asked them, "Well, fellas,
what can I do for you?"
Mr.
Carpenter answered, "Mr. Smith, President Roosevelt would like to
invite you to a formal gathering at the White House. Would you care
to discuss the details outside?"
John
was not surprised; in fact, he was a little proud. He thought, So,
the president finally wants to meet me, eh? Well, it's about time!
He
told Mr. Carpenter, "Sure! Let's talk about the details
outside." And he followed the two men out of the building.
Mr.
Wright and Miss Taylor simply stared in silence at the figures that
were piling into the limousine. Miss Taylor finally broke the
silence by turning to the dean and asking: "Say, Mr. Wright, how
come you never see All-star and John Smith in the same place at the
same time?"
Mr.
Wright simply shook his head and replied, "I don't know, Miss
Taylor. I just don't know."
***
John
sat across from Mr. Tassel and Mr. Carpenter, and asked, "So, what
does the president want to see me for?" John was guessing the
answer in his head, and it all pointed to All-star.
"Well,
John," said Mr. Carpenter, "We've done some gathering for the
past few weeks, and we've reason to believe that you are partner to
the mystery man All-star!"
The
athlete felt let down and disappointed. The
story of my life,
he thought, I
do all of the work, and All-star gets all the credit.
"I
suppose you could say that we're acquainted."
"Well,
acquainted or otherwise, we have some documents we would like you to
give to him. Howard, do you have the documents?" Tassel removed
several papers from his briefcase, and handed them to John. John
glanced through the papers, though there wasn't much to see:
documents written in German, pictures taken in what looked to be
Russia and Japanese newspaper clippings, with translations. Nothing
particularly caught the eye of the young ace.
"With
all due respect sir, what are these?" he asked, although he guessed
that he wouldn't get a clear answer.
Agent
Carpenter chuckled and said, "Oh-ho-ho, John, we can't tell you
that! It's top secret information, for All-star's eyes only!
Now, here," he withdrew a letter from his jacket, "I have some
papers regarding the information in those papers, and a letter from
the president himself. Would you kindly deliver these to All-star,
John?"
"Why
can't you deliver them yourself, sirs?"
"Because
All-star is always so busy; between his charity work and fighting
crime, it's impossible to get a hold of him! That's why we need
you, John. You can get in connection with All-star and deliver our
information."
John
thought to himself sarcastically, Can
I get it to All-star? Gee, I dunno!
However, he told the two agents before him, "I'd be honored to!"
The
rest of the trip to John's apartment was filled with boring talk
about the state game, and how well John played. The chatter couldn't
take the papers off of John's mind, though. As
soon as I get home,
he thought, I'll
rip this letter open and find out what the president wants!
The
limousine arrived at John's apartment building, where John got out
of the car and thanked the two men. "Mr. Carpenter, Mr. Tassel, it
was nice meeting you both."
"A
pleasure to meet you too, John! We hope you will deliver those
papers safely, now!" Carpenter shook his hand, as did Tassel, and
the limousine drove off back to Washington. John began to make his
way up the stairs, skipping two or three steps at a time, until he
finally got to his room. He pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked
the door, entered his apartment and shut the door, locking it once
again.
John's
apartment was a nice little home away from home: he had a kitchen, a
bathroom, two bedrooms, and a nice living room with a trophy case
back against the wall, across from the sofa, and next to a
comfy-looking chair. A medium-size radio was sitting on the floor,
along with a stack of newspapers and a carton of cigarettes. The
young man placed the papers on his coffee table and wandered over to
the bedroom.
The
bedroom was very well kept and organized; it was a habit of John's
to clean the whole apartment every few days. It had one large bed
and a nightstand next to it, with an alarm clock on top, and a
closet, which housed a secret storage area for All-star's costumes.
John dropped his duffel bag on the floor and removed the ruined
costume from the bag.
Hmm,
thought John,
I wonder when Laurie can have this thing ready by...hope it won't
take too long. With the way I run through costumes, I'll be
guaranteeing her a trip to the Rivera by March!
He
disposed of the costume in a hamper, along with his football uniform
and the clothes he had on. "After that fight with Blackjack, I
need to take a shower, especially if I'm going to meet with the
boys tonight!"
John
walked into the bathroom with a robe in hand and pulled a towel out
from the closet. He stopped to examine himself in the mirror: partly
to check his arm, but mostly to get a look at himself. John was a
handsome man, and he knew it: he had rusty brown hair that was always
combed to the right; green eyes that seemed to smile in the light;
and a face that had remained perfect, despite the years of football.
His arm was slightly singed, and probably needed a good rinsing off
under some cold water. "Not bad John," he said out loud, "Not
bad at all!"
He
turned the shower on, and stepped into the cool, refreshing water.
"Gosh, what a big day! Winning the game for the boys, handing out
some well-deserved justice, and meeting with members of the
president's secret service!" John's mind was buzzing with
anticipation: the president wanted something to do with All-star, he
was supposed to meet the boys in a little while for a drink, and he
would probably have to bring Mary along. "Could my life get any
better?" the young athlete asked himself.
***
Meanwhile, in the
streets of London...
It
was a bustling day in London, as people were running from place to
place, shop to shop. It was a dreary day, and there was a cloud of
fog looming in the air. Through the din of the city, these sounds
were heard coming from a nearby bank:
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
"Somebody
help!"
RA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TA!
These
cries filled the streets as civilians left and right dodged out of
the way to avoid being hit by a car that came careening down the
street. Two ugly men were in the car, and in the backseat lay the
money they had just stolen. "Droive fastah, ya idjut!" screamed
one to the other.
"Ahm
goin' as fast as ah can! Juss shoot aht the blokes behoind us!"
shouted the angry driver.
The
one who was not driving pulled a pistol out of his jacket, stuck his
hand and his head out the window, and opened fire on the police
officers that were in pursuit. The officers returned fire but met
with little luck in stopping the duo. The chase carried on for a
short while until the thug that was driving pulled into a nearby
alleyway; the police cars failed to see this in time, and so they
sped off down the road. The two men waited until they heard the
sirens in the distance before they removed themselves from the
vehicle, laughing their heads off at their conquest.
"HAHA!
Di' ya see the look on 'at constable's face?! Proiceless!"
"Yeh!
Awright, mate, awright. Lehs get 'is back to our 'ideout!"
"YOU'RE
NOT GOING ANYWHERE..."
The
two men stopped in their tracks and started trembling. They had
heard rumors of a demon that lurked these streets. Never went after
good people, no; it only took the criminals. Only the scum of the
earth. In fact, there was a saying going around the underbelly of
London: 'If the police are after you, pray they
find you first.' Heaven knows what happened to the villains that
dared to face...THE
ENIGMA!
"I
WILL ONLY SAY THIS ONCE...RETURN THAT WHICH YOU HAVE STOLEN...OR
SUFFER THE FATE OF YOUR FELLOW ROGUES!"
To
dare to go up against the Enigma was foolish enough. But to make a
run for it...all the angels in Heaven couldn't help you.
"Lehs
ge' out of 'ere!" The two men ran for their lives, keeping
their eyes dead ahead, hoping to escape the Enigma...but to no avail.
The shadows of the buildings that formed the alley took the shape of
a robed figure, tall and ominous. The being floated three feet above
the ground, with ink-black smoke floating from the openings of its
robe.
It
immediately gave chase, a wall of blackness following behind it. The
two men ran, ran as fast as they could, but didn't get far until
one tripped on a piece of wood left on the ground; with a thud and a
scream of terror, he was swallowed up by the shadows. This only made
his partner run faster.
The
second criminal tried a last-ditch effort to stop the monster long
enough to give him time to escape; reaching into his jacket, he
retrieved his pistol, and fired three shots at the Enigma. The
bullets hit right where its heart would be...and were seized by the
darkness. There was no escape. Soon, the last crook fell, landing
on his face. He twisted around and saw the mysterious figure
approaching him; he crawled backwards, still trying to escape.
"JUSTICE
SHALL BE DONE...AND VENGEANCE...SHALL BE MINE!"
Those
were the final words the bank robber would ever hear.
Ten
minutes later, the police had gone out to Fleet Street, hearing of a
disturbance in an alleyway. When they arrived, they found two dead
men, plastered against a wall. Above, burned into the brick, were
the words: JUSTICE HAS BEEN SERVED.
***
A
thick cloud of smoke drifted through the London air, over the people
going about their daily lives, ignoring the fact that somehow a trail
of ink-black smoke was floating along on its own accord. It made its
way to the bank a pair of criminals had just robbed, and it was
surrounded by the press, who were asking officers what had happened
to the thieves. The smoke flew past the people, who all stopped and
stared at the sight before them. That cloud filled them with dread;
it was something everyone feared. It entered the bank, then stopped,
transforming into the shrouded form that had stopped the bank
robbers. It was the Enigma, and it carried three large sacks of
money along with it.
It
floated quietly over towards the nearest police officer and dropped
the sacks at the man's feet. The officer merely stuttered,
"Th-thank you." and stared in awe at the figure before him.
People
everywhere heard about the success of The Mid-Knight and his sons, or
the rogue brothers Spring-Heeled Jack and The Dodger, but few people
dared to mention the Enigma. It was a being that knew no limitations
and could never be caught; it only appeared in times of emergency or
danger. Others would say that it spent its time at the children's
orphanage, where it always seemed to head to after stopping any
villains from getting away. No one was brave enough to follow it.
Nobody dared to follow it as it floated out the door, returning to
heaven knows where.
If
they did follow the Enigma, they would find it flying through the air
towards an orphanage on the far side of town. They would see it
drift through an open window, and they could have seen it return to
the attic of a tall building. It lived there; it only left to
destroy crime in London. There were only a few people brave enough
to visit it, and that would be:
BOOM!
"Enigma!
Yo're 'ome!"
"Did
ja stop any bad guys, Enigma?"
"Wat'd
ja do wiff 'em, Enigma?"
Only
the children who had lived with the spirit for their whole lives saw
it as a friend and guardian. They had taken to the Enigma after it
had saved them all when the building caught on fire. They would
regale each other with fantasies of the Enigma going out and stopping
the "bad guys". They would sometimes bother the smoky spirit
during the wee hours of the morning, but it never seemed to mind. It
would always listen intently to what it would tell them.
"Gather
round children,"
it
said in a low voice, "And
I shall tell you of my latest venture into the dark streets of
London..."
One
older boy, Charlie, walked up to the Enigma, and said to it, "Enigma,
sorry tah in'errupt, but some men in noice suits came tuh-day. 'Ey
told us to give you 'ese." He passed it an envelope and a folder.
"Don' worry," he said as he chuckled, "We 'aven't gotten
into them. No' yet, anyways!"
"Thank
you, Charlie."
It
reached its smoky, black hand out for the items in the boy's hand,
and picked them up; an instant later, they were gone in the confines
of its cloak.
However,
before it hid the folder and envelope away from the children, it had
spotted a message on both things, stamped in ink: FROM
THE DESK OF WINSTON CHURCHILL
"Odd,"
thought
the spectral being, "What
could Parliament want with me?"
***
"Boy! That shower
was just what I needed!" John Smith stepped out of his shower and
grabbed a towel from a nearby rack. As he dried himself off, he
noted that his burn, while looking better, still stung to the touch
and needed dressing. "Think I have some ointment in here
somewhere..." he said aloud, "I know I restocked after my fight
with Blackjack a few weeks ago...Aha! Here it is!"
He
pulled a small bottle of cream from the cabinet, as well a roll of
gauze and a roll of medical tape. John opened the bottle and smeared
some ointment on his wound, then wrapped the gauze around it, and
taped the gauze tight against his arm. Seeing that he had covered it
nicely, John put away his supplies and grabbed a robe from the
bathroom door; he walked into his kitchen, prepared a cup of coffee,
and plopped down in his armchair. Picking up the papers and the
envelope, John began to sift through the information in front of him.
"First
things first," John said, "I should read this letter from the
president." He grabbed a letter opener that been laying on the
table, and swiftly tore open the envelope. His hand reached inside
and withdrew a letter that had the official seal of the president on
it. The letter was obviously done on a typewriter; the only
handwritten part was the signature at the bottom of the third page.
It read as follows:
Dear
All-star,
First
and foremost, let me thank you for all the work you've done in
protecting the city of Princeton and the surrounding area. Your
valiant and noble efforts have won you a spot in not only the hearts
of the people of your town, but the people of America as well; your
countless hours of charity work have not gone unnoticed either. You
have proven to be a kind soul, as well as a champion fighter. I
cannot thank you enough.
That
said, I must go into the reason for writing to you now, instead of
sooner or later. You may or may not know this, but right now, Europe
is in the middle of a conflict. Adolph Hitler and the Nazi forces
are moving throughout the countryside, reclaiming lost German
territory and taking control of countless cities and nations. Great
Britain and France are desperately trying to maintain a level of
peace, keeping conflict from breaking out, but their efforts are only
angering people, and the leaders may have to march into war soon. I
fear that, should this escalate into something greater, we will soon
face a second
Great
War.
To
make the situation worse, Josef Stalin, leader of the Soviet Union,
has begun to meet with Hitler privately, and is possibly forming an
alliance between their nations. Stalin, already an enemy of the
United States, is only making the strain between the Soviet Union and
the U.S.A. greater. Further compounding matters, our relations with
the nation of Japan have been straining as well, due to their
horrific attacks on China and their potential involvement with Nazi
Germany. The worst part, I'm afraid, is this: each of the
aforementioned nations has been training and/or actively using
mystery men of their own.
Our
secret agents in Germany, the Soviet Union, and Japan, have provided
valuable information to us, risking their lives to make sure we
remain aware of our enemies' activities. From our German source,
we have discovered that Hitler has been recruiting several men and
women with super power and using them to further his conquest of
Europe. So far, they have only acted as agents of persuasion, not
attacking anyone, and only appear when the time comes for
negotiations; should any nation defy Hitler's demand, they would be
crippled in less than a week. The papers written in German that we
have provided are the names of a few known Nazi super soldiers.
John
switched over from the letter to take a look at the German files, and
scanned them briefly; he took note of the names that stood out to
him.
Unbesiegbarer
Mann
Ruhm-Frau
Mitternacht-Mann
Mann
der Geschwindigkeit
Energie
Leuchtfeuer
"Hmm...these
folks could be trouble. Wonder if I'll ever have to fight 'em?"
He said aloud. He put the paper down and resumed reading the letter.
Over
in the Soviet Union, we have not had as much luck in coming up with
information. All we could acquire were pictures gathered from
newspapers. Stalin has refused to tell his people what he has
planned but judging by the pictures of metal men printed in his
papers and on books, he is planning something big.
The
correspondent in Japan has met with little success as well, only able
to gather newspapers and the occasional note taken from a
conversation. He translated all the information that he gained and
noted the important information we needed. We are unsure what is
meant by the title "mystical warrior", but taken from context, it
probably means that the government is training its own super
soldiers.
We
want to be ready for anything, should one or more of these nations
declare war on our nation. Thus, Winston Churchill, a stout believer
in the evil of Hitler, and I have decided to form a coalition between
our two nations. We have agreed that in order to protect ourselves,
we shall need the aid of the mystery men of our two nations, so we
have called the coalition The Society of Mystery Men, and it will
feature any masked crime fighter who decides to join. Our scouts
have nominated you, All-star, as a member, and would like for you to
be a part of this team.
If
you decide to join, send a reply letter back, and we shall make
arrangements for the first meeting of the mystery men.
Thank
you for taking the time to read this letter, and I wish you the best
of luck in all your daily endeavors.
Franklin
D. Roosevelt
John
did not read the last part of the letter, as it had fallen from his
hands. He couldn't believe it! He was going to be a member of an
army of mystery men! He'd fight against enemies overseas! He
would save the world!
It was almost unreal. John would finally have a chance to work
alongside people that he could relate to, could have discussions
about work with, and even gain experience from. He knew he had to be
a part of this moment in history, and so he re-read the letter and
got to the ending. John would have to write up a letter soon, but
that could wait.
"Now,"
said John, "I've got to get ready for my evening out!"
***
A
short while later, John Smith was down in the lobby of his apartment
building, all dressed up and ready for that evening's events to
unfold. He picked up the phone and dialed the number for Mary's
apartment building, where he was told to wait a moment for Mary to
pick up the phone. John was looking forward to tonight: he had had
one of the greatest days of his life and wanted to make this an even
greater night. Mary was always up for a little fun, so bringing her
to the local bar with the boys was sure to put her in good spirits.
Finally, a light voice answered from the other line, and said,
"Hello?"
"Mary,
it's John! How are you doing?"
"John,
hi! Oh, congratulations! I was up in the stands watching you the
whole time! Oh, you were incredible! Absolutely incredible!"
The
young man smiled. Mary loved to watch the games, and she was always
so excited and anxious to talk about them afterwards. "Thanks.
Listen, I'm sorry I didn't meet up with you after the game; Coach
had a little meeting afterwards, and I had to sit through the whole
thing. I bet it lasted more than two hours!" That was not
entirely a lie: Coach did
have a meeting with the players after the game, but it had only
lasted half an hour; the rest of that time was spent fighting
Blackjack.
"That's
fine, I completely understand."
Good
ol' Mary; she was so understanding. "I know, but I still feel
guilty about it. I'll tell you what: some of the guys on the team
are heading down to Joe's for a drink later on. You up for a night
on the town?"
"Boy
am I! I'd love to go out tonight! That'd be swell, John!"
"Alright,
Mary, I'll come by and pick you up in a few minutes, okay?"
"Sure
thing! Just give me a little bit to do up my hair and put on my
make-up!"
"Great,
I'll be by at about..." John looked at his watch, "Seven o'
clock. I'll see ya then!"
He
hung up the phone, and walked out of the building toward the street,
where he hailed a taxi. "Hey, taxi!" Ordinarily, he would run
to her school, but it was far away, and running in his nice clothes
was not something he wanted to do before a date.
John
got into the cab that pulled up, and after telling the driver where
to go, sat back and enjoyed the ride. He was interrupted from his
tranquility when the driver, speaking in a thick Jersey accent, said,
"Say...ain't you dat kid dat won da ball game t'day?"
"Yes,
yessir I am!"
"Well,
dat's great! Good fuh youze!" The cabby and John had a nice
conversation on the way to the all-girls school, where John got out
and asked the driver to wait.
The
all-star looked at his watch and said, "Seven o' clock right
now...I wonder if Mary's done yet?" His question was answered by
the arrival of Miss Duncan, appearing heavenly as always.
Mary
had straight blonde hair, which she always kept in a ponytail or just
let flow. Tonight, she had put her hair up in curls, making her
absolutely adorable in John's eyes; her golden locks swayed to and
fro, going halfway down her back. She was not overly endowed, like
the women John's brother preferred, but was a slim and pretty
thing, of only nineteen. Mary always wore outfits that flattered her
lovely body, and she always appeared a kind woman with maturity above
and beyond her years.
She
almost skipped over to John, where the two met in a loving embrace,
hugging and kissing as any ordinary couple does. John took her by
the arm end escorted her to the car, saying, "You're in for quite
an evening, you know?"
She
giggled and replied, "Oh, how's that?"
"Let's
just say that the boys really know how to throw a shindig!"
"Oh!
Am I going to meet the rest of the team now?"
"Absolutely!"
They got into the car, and John told the driver, "2nd
and Main. It's a small place called Charlie's." He turned
back to Mary, and said, "The guys have been looking forward to
meeting you. You'll knock their socks off, I'm sure!"
"Golly,
you think so?"
"I
know so, Mary!"
They
drove the rest of the way to the bar talking about how their day was,
and what they were going to do, but John was only partly paying
attention. He was keeping an eye and ear out for anything out of the
normal. He cleared his head, and thought to himself, Easy,
John, easy! You're here for Mary tonight, not for business!
Then
why did you bring the costume, wise guy?
It's
only in case something does happen! You always have to be ready in
this business!
This
inner dialogue continued for a while, until they finally pulled up to
the bar. John paid the driver, making sure to tip the nice man. In
return, the driver told him, "Take it easy dere, kid! Youze have a
good night, all right?"
"Will
do, Benny! 'Night!"
The
bar was filled with patrons of all kind, from those men who came
every night, to those men who came every Friday with their paycheck
ready. The boys of Princeton were frequent patrons of Charlie's,
and could be seen there almost every Friday night, some looking for
action, some looking to forget classes. In the case of the football
players, they were there simply to have a good time, and celebrate a
marvelous game. The bar was filled with rabble-rousing players, most
of whom were a little tipsy at the time.
When
John and Mary walked into the bar, they were greeted by John's
teammate Sam "Slam" Baker, a tall, muscular boy who stood at an
imposing 6 feet, 8 inches. He greeted the couple with a rowdy "'Ey,
it's Johnny! Who's the doll ya got dere, John?"
John,
being used to the antics of his teammates, told Sam calmly, "Slam,
this is Mary, the girl I've been seeing."
Sam
turned to Mary and said to her, "You're a very lucky lady, miss.
Dis 'ere's da best football player in da nation! He's
unbeatable, I tell ya!"
Mary
blushed, and replied, "Oh, thank you very much! I suppose I am
pretty lucky, now that you mention it!"
"Hey,
what do you say I order us some drinks, gang? Hey, Morty, three
martinis, please!" John could tell Mary was going to like the rest
of the team, seeing how well she got along with Sam.
The
night went on like this for quite a while, with John introducing Mary
to all of his rowdy, and as time went on, inebriated, friends, and
then ordering more drinks. Tonight was going to be a celebration:
this was the last time some of the boys on the team would play at
Princeton, John being one of them. Every player had given it their
all out on the field, but the seniors put out more strength than they
had; they wanted to go out with a bang, win or lose.
"These
are your golden days, boys", their coach had told them, "Whatever
the future holds in store for you, it will never be better than the
present." So, drinks were passed all around while everybody was
having a grand old time and the night of their lives.
This
went on until John saw a certain enemy of his careening through the
streets at breakneck speeds. It was the Running Man, and he was out
for his usual night of vandalism and larceny, clad in a pair of
jodhpurs and a long-sleeved shirt with a wing on it. He was an
annoying character, given that he was as fast as All-star but had no
other powers beyond that.
John
cursed in his mind, and told Mary, "Excuse me darling, but I'm
afraid I've got to go now. I'm feeling pretty tired, think I'll
go back to my apartment and sleep for a month!"
At
this, Mary was disappointed, but she simply said, "Okay, John.
I'll just take a cab back to my school."
He
escorted her to a nearby cab, helped her get in, saw her off, then
ducked into the closest alleyway and changed into his costume. He
sped off into the night, thinking to himself, Good
thing I've got something to vent my frustration on!
***
December 22, 1937:
All-star
unlocked the door to his apartment, and trudged in, dragging his feet
behind him; tonight's ride around the city had taken a lot out of
him. He shut the door behind him, and threw his key onto the kitchen
counter, not exactly caring where it landed. The tired hero doggedly
made his way to his bedroom, and he plopped down on his bed, ready to
fall asleep.
Why,
in the name of all that is holy, did I decide to go on patrol until
four in the morning?!
he thought to himself as he turned off the alarm on his clock.
He
forced himself to rise and remove his utterly destroyed uniform,
ripping off his torn helmet and broken goggles and throwing them into
a corner. Next, he slowly removed his jersey, since he had possibly
broken a rib fighting Gladiator that evening; off came the shoes,
muddy and coated with grit and grime. Finally, he pulled off his
pants and his jockstrap, and he stood in his room completely naked.
John Smith held his hands up in front of his face and looked at the
bruises and gashes he had made in them that evening.
Was
it worth it? All the pain and frustration; was it worth it?
he thought as he plodded over to his bathroom.
John
turned the shower on and felt the cold water run over his body;
instantly, he felt a small amount of strength return to him as he
stood under the cold spray. He put his face into the water and let
it cascade down, washing away the sweat and dirt from the evening in
one fell swoop. Gingerly, the young man scrubbed away the caked
blood on his body and the open wounds he had had no time to cover.
The water calmed him and told him to relax and forget the evening.
Instead, focus on why
he had chosen to work a double shift that evening...
***
December
21st,
1937:
It
was a chilly day in December, and new snow had fallen the night
before, transforming the landscape around Princeton into one big
winter wonderland. Today, however, two young people were having a
disagreement.
"John,
sometimes I just don't understand you!" Mary said to her
boyfriend as they stood in his apartment, "Whenever we go out, you
always have to leave in the middle of the evening; to do what, I
don't know, but it bothers me to no end!"
The
ace football player, John Smith, had wished they never decided to
talk about their relationship that morning. Mary had come over, and
soon after, they got into a heated argument over John's nightly
activities, and why he couldn't spend more time with her.
"Look,
Mary," the young man said as he ran his fingers through his hair,
"There are just some things that I can't tell you for reasons
that, well, I can't discuss with you. But you have to trust me
when I say that every time I leave, I am leaving for good reasons!"
"And
what could be more important than your girlfriend of a
year-and-a-half?!" Mary asked as she put her hands on her hips.
"You
wouldn't believe me if I told you," was what John wanted to say,
but he couldn't; all he could tell her was, "It's nothing you
need to be concerned about."
He
hadn't meant for it to come out the way it had, but what was said
was said, and there was nothing John could do to take it back.
Mary
felt like John had just cut her with a knife, so she said to him,
"Fine, I see how it is. If that's the way you feel, John, I
guess I'll just be going now. Goodbye, John." She turned her
back to him with tears streaming down her cheeks.
No!
I can't let her leave like this!
John thought to himself as he reached out a hand to stop her. He
said, "Mary, wait," and he gently grabbed her shoulder and spun
her around to face him, "I can't let you do this. I love you too
much, and I know that I might keep secrets from you, but you must
know this: I do it to keep you protected. Safe from harm."
He
pulled her close to him, and the two of them locked their lips in a
passionate kiss, as they both held tightly to the other, not wanting
to let go. At last, they broke apart, and John said to her, "Let
me make up for all those missed dates tonight. We'll go get
dinner, we'll see that new Disney movie; the whole evening will be
me by your side, okay?"
Mary
wiped away her tears, and she smiled as she told him, "I'd love
that. I'd love that so much."
So,
they went out to dine at one of the finest restaurants in town and
the two of them had a wonderful time, exchanging funny stories about
this one kid in John's math class or that one girl in Mary's
nursing class.
The
movie they went to see, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, was
beautiful, with fantastic animation and a touching story. Mary began
to cry during the part where Snow White kisses Prince Charming and
the two of them lived happily ever after; John wrapped his arm around
her and held her close, letting her know that he was her Prince
Charming.
And
later that evening, when they went back to John's apartment, they
retreated to his bedroom, where they looked into each other's eyes
and realized what was going to happen. The two began to violently
kiss each other, as John unbuttoned Mary's blouse and she undid his
tie and shirt; he removed her skirt, and she took his belt and pants
off. The two of them stood there, half-naked and filled with lust,
and Mary asked, "Do you want to do this?"
"Yes."
"Do
you think we're ready?"
John
took one hand and began to run his fingers through her hair, while
the other hand began to caress her body; he leaned his lips close to
his ear, and whispered, "I'm ready for this if you are."
Mary
responded by locking lips with her lover and the two of them filled
the bedroom with passion and romance that evening. They fell asleep
in each other's' arms, with Mary holding John close to her; he,
still awake, looked at the beautiful girl that lay in bed next to
him, and he kissed her on the forehead.
He
whispered, "I love you, Mary." Then, he fell asleep, her head
against his muscular chest.
***
Thinking
back to last night, John smiled, and knew that all the injuries, all
the grime, and all the fatigue he had endured tonight was worth it.
Mary's happiness meant the world to him, and if that meant having
to perform a double shift to cover for the missed evening, then so be
it. John stepped out of the shower, feeling a thousand times better
than he had when he went in.
***
Meanwhile, all
across America and Britain...
Ever
since December 1st,
dozens of hands, gloved or otherwise, were reaching into envelopes
that contained special letters. These hands belonged to heroes of
all kinds, each of them approached by agents of the President or the
Prime Minister. And after reading these letters, each hand dropped
said letter, and reacted to the news they had received.
"Wall,
ain't that dandy? A So-si-et-ee of Mistree Men!"
"Finally!"
"...<What's
a Nazi?>"
"LADS!
Get down 'ere and read this 'ere letter!" "Right dad!"
"Right dad!" "Right dad!"
"Interesting.
Very interesting indeed!"
"Woo-HOO!"
"Odd...what
is this uneasiness I am feeling?"
To
be continued...
***
Who
are the rest of the Mystery Men? What sort of characters are they,
exactly? Will they get along? Will there be any rivalries that form
amongst the heroes? These questions and more will be answered, in
the next installment of Whatever
Happened to the Mystery Men?!
Chapter
2
"Hoo-WEE!
That wuz a dern good pic-sure show, dincha think?"
"Well,
Johnny, it was very entertaining, but I must say: I have been on this
planet for almost a year now, and I have never heard of or seen a
talking duck before!"
"Yew
ain't seen a Daffy Duck cartoon buh-fore?! SHEE-OOT, Lag, we gotta
gitcha to the pic-sures more often!"
"If
you think it's necessary..."
January
1st.
New Year's Day. Many people were celebrating the coming of a new
year, with new promises, having parties or enjoying themselves now
that the Depression was coming to a close. Two men were walking down
the streets of New York, laughing and reminding each other about the
zany antics of their favorite cartoon character.
The
younger of the men was Johnny O' Daniel, a fine boy from the lovely
state of Mississippi; he wore his Sunday's best, which consisted of
a fine pressed suit, and a fancy bow tie to boot. His friend,
Lag'nal Ror'mek, was bundled up, due to his race's intolerance
toward cold weather. He had on at least three trench coats, four
pairs of cheap slacks, two gloves on each hand, and a fedora atop his
head. A thick scarf was wrapped about his neck, and he had his hands
wedged firmly in his pockets.
Johnny
turned to his friend and said, "Say, Lag, yew got th' time?"
Lag
looked curiously at his friend and said nothing. Confused, Johnny
repeated his question, "Lag, do yew have th' time?" Still no
response. "Do yew have th' time or not, Lag?!"
"The
time for what, Johnny?"
"Whadda
ya mean, "Th' time fer wut?"?! Ahm askin' if yew know wut
time it is!"
Lag
chuckled and said, "I am only kidding, Johnny. Of course I know
the time; I am not that out of touch with Earth phrases!"
The
Southern boy squinted at his pal and asked, "Yew sure?"
Lag,
with a straight face, replied, "Absotivelutely, John."
"Wut's
that mean?"
"Trust
me: in about fifty years that will be what everybody says. I can
guarantee it!"
"If'n
you ain't the granddaddy of all liars..." Johnny then turned to
his right and spoke to the empty spot that was next to him. "Swamp
Daddy, yew got th' time?" No one could tell that Johnny was
actually talking to a giant alligator, which stood on its hind legs
and wore only a pair of slacks and cuffs around its hands.
The
giant reptile smirked, and said, "Time
for you to get a new watch, master!"
It snapped its fingers, and a new watch appeared around the wrist of
O' Daniel.
"Thanks,
pal!" He checked the time on the watch, and cried out in
exasperation, "Holy smokes, Lag! We're gonna be late!"
"Late
for what?"
"Late
fer church! Yew don't walk in behind the preacher! C'mon, we
gotta go!" Before the pair could go, however, they heard shrieks
for help and explosions in the air.
Lag
turned to Johnny and told him, "Looks like church will have to
start without us, Johnny!"
The
boy nodded to his friend and ducked into an alleyway with his
invisible alligator, while Lag ran into the nearest phone booth.
Johnny conjured up a pair of over-alls, a white dress shirt, and a
straw hat on his head, and lost the shoes on his feet. Lag slowly
changed shape, his clothes sinking into his skin as a vaguely human
shape took their place; his skin turned milk white, and a pair of
antennae grew out of his head. The two flew out of their respective
hideaways and charged toward the scene of the crime.
"Aw'rat,
Oddball! Let's show these city slickers how we do it down south!"
"REMEMBER
THE ALAMO! Did I say that right, Johnny?"
"Ha-hah!
You said it just fan, Lag!"
The
men flew head on into the battle and proved their worth to the people
of New York, easily toppling the criminals who dared to rob a bank
while Johnny Tiger and the Oddball were in town!
Johnny
O' Daniel was once a poor boy from Mississippi who suffered through
the Depression with his family, barely able to scrape by. One day
while at the Mississippi River, hopelessly panning for gold, he
stumbled upon a shining green gem; thinking it to be high in value,
Johnny cleaned it off and rubbed it dry. This awoke the spirit of
the ancient Egyptian spirit H'tot Xela, a genie that took the form
of a crocodile. Seeing Johnny as his new master, H'tot became
Johnny's partner; together, the two of them fought crime throughout
Mississippi, taking down robbers with what they referred to as
"Mississippi Style". So, Johnny O' Daniel grew to become the
great crime fighter Johnny
Gator!
One
day, while out fishing, Billy O' Daniel saw a shooting star fall
from the sky, right into the river he was fishing from! When he
checked the meteor, he saw that it was actually a UFO; when he
touched it, it opened with a hiss, and a strange white man crawled
out of the ship. In an effort to keep the child calm, he began to
perform various feats of wonder, like stretching himself into several
shapes and changing his body into other objects. The boy laughed and
cried out, "Golly, wut a Oddball!" After that, Lag'nal Ror'mek
lived in the shack behind the O' Daniel house, where he formed a
team with the eldest boy of the house, Johnny. Now, Lag'nal
protects the countryside as THE
ODDBALL!
As
they flew away, Johnny spoke to his friends, and said, "Just think
boys: soon, we'll be fightin' bad guys with other miss-tree men!"
Oddball
replied to his friend, "Yes, I am greatly looking forward to this
meeting of heroes!" In his head, he thought to himself, Maybe
this will be the chance for me to meet some people of a finer class!
No offense to Johnny, but I was a court jester on Saturn; I ought to
be trading jokes with kings! Making the queen laugh as I sing a
song!
He
looked back over at his best friend on this planet, who was
conversing with his genie. But...
"So,
H't, wut's next on th' agender?"
"Master,
there is nothing left on the agenda for today. Might I suggest that
you and Lag'nal return to your accommodations for now?"
"All
righty, sounds fan tuh me! Ah cud yewze uh little shut-ah after that
all that fightin'!"
"Well,
Master, you probably wore yourself out uttering commands...again."
"Ah
suppose you're rat, bu-HEY!"
...but
I feel right at home,
Lag finished with a chuckle and a smile.
As
the trio flew to their hotel, the arguing between Johnny and Swamp
Daddy only increased. It ended with an elaborate, "I
know thou art, but pray tell, what be I?"
***
January
3rd,
1938:
"And
here to support President Roosevelt's "March of Dimes" is none
other than New Jersey's finest: ALL-STAR!"
All-star,
standing with Scot Allan, the MC of the radio event, smiled and waved
to the crowd before going up to the microphone for the audience and
America to hear him.
"My
fellow Americans," he began, "I have come before you today to
speak to you about polio, and what the March of Dimes will do for
others. In my lifetime, I have seen children hobbling about, unable
to play baseball at all because they cannot run. I have seen
children who were made pariahs in their community all because they
used four legs to walk instead of two. I have seen the horrors of
this disease first-hand, as my own cousin was diagnosed with the
disease ten years ago. He died naught but four years ago. I still
miss him dearly.
"But
I have not come to you to talk about the disease, but how we can find
a way to be rid of it! With the March for Dimes, all you have to do
is donate a dime. One dime, two dimes, as many as you can find. And
if every American man and woman, boy and girl, can find it in them to
donate to this noble cause, then I am sure that we will find a cure
before 1950! Be the hero you were meant to be and donate to the
March of Dimes!"
With
that, he took a dime out of his pocket, showed it to the crowd who
raved and cheered at the sight before them, and placed it in a jar
that was next to the podium. Cameras were going off, reporters were
writing every word down on their paper; the very air was alive with
fever. All-star stood before the crowd and waved before returning to
throng of speakers on the stage. He smiled and beamed, taking in the
spotlight and adoration.
"Thank
you, All-star, thank you! Now, we will have a brief message from our
sponsors."
All-star
took this time to go get some coffee that was provided for the
sponsors of the charity. He made his way to the coffee table,
shaking hands with other patrons, and stopping to give a short
interview to a reporter. Once he reached the table, he saw that he
was not alone: standing in front of him was none other than Lindy
the Golden Girl!
The
young hero remembered hearing about her over the radio. Apparently,
she was something of a hit in Chicago; she fought the organized crime
in the city and helped to put the insidious Dr. Kain behind bars.
Lindy was a very beautiful woman, and she used this to her advantage,
since her appearance would cause often cause her enemies to lose
focus during a battle. Her outfit consisted of a pair of blue
gloves, blue boots, a blue cape and a yellow bathing suit. She had
platinum blonde hair, which was done up in a bob-cut. All-star stood
in awe at seeing this heroine in front of him; to be meeting with
another mystery man was tricky, since there usually wasn't more
than one per city.
Well,
All-star thought, I
might as well take advantage of this commercial break!
He
cleared his throat with an er-hrrm,
at which the woman in front of him turned to look at him. Wow!
She's better looking than I imagined!
he thought. The superhero greeted Lindy, "Hi there. I'm
All-star, and you?"
She
just flashed him a smile and replied, "I'm The Golden Girl, but
everyone calls me by my nickname Lindy." In her head, Lindy mused,
Well
isn't he a good-looking devil?
"Are
you here to speak for the charity?"
"Yes,
I do. I had a friend from back in the day who had polio." At this
point, she started to tear up. "I-I'm sorry. It's just, it's
a very difficult thing for me to talk about."
All-star
instinctively took her hand and started to pat it. "It's all
right, Lindy, it's all right."
"Thank
you, All-star; you're a very kind man," Lindy tearfully replied.
In her head, she smirked and thought, I
can't believe he bought it!
He
blushed, let go of her hand, and replied, "Oh, why thank you,
Golden Girl."
"You're
welcome. That was a very nice speech you gave up there."
"You
thought it was good?"
"Oh,
yes, it was good; I thought it was very touching and energized. Why,
I'll bet you get every family in America to donate!" The
glimmering gal laid a gentle hand on his shoulder for added measure.
Beet
red, All-star replied, "Well, we'll see, Lindy; we're just
going to have to wait and see."
They
continued talking for a few more minutes, until...
BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The
room shook violently, and All-star and Lindy grabbed at the table for
support, steadying themselves as the vibrations continued to rattle
the building. The two ran towards the window, where they saw what
caused the explosion: another group of robbers, out for a little
heist. They were robbing the nearby bank, and it seemed like no one
could stop them; no one that is, except for a certain golden-haired
woman and a muscular young man.
All-star
and Lindy both looked at each other, almost asking the other, "Do
you want it, or should I go?" Finally, All-star told Lindy, "Good
luck with the speech!" and sped off down the stairs and out the
building.
The
Golden Girl saw that everyone in the room was now focused on the
event outside, so she walked over to the stage, and clapped her
hands. The clapping produced such sound waves that it got the
attention of the people immediately. Lindy spoke into the
microphones and asked the crowd, "Folks, we're having a crisis
right now, but I want you to know that the situation is in good
hands." The entire crow breathed a sigh of relief. Lindy looked
over to Scot Allan, who was nearby in the crowd; once she found him,
she called him back up to the stage, where he said, "And now,
ladies and gentlemen, Chicago's own Lindy
the Golden Girl!"
She
smiled and waved to the crowd before beginning her speech. "Thank
you," she said, "Thank you! Folks, I am here today to tell you a
tragic story: one that involves the loved ones of a young girl
falling to the deadly grasp of polio. When I was very young, I had a
cousin that I did everything with..."
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