by Dave Barnowski
Wayne Grant wasn’t facing the window when Wildcat entered. He was turned toward two big, burly men that Wildcat instinctively knew were hired muscle. The former police detective was struggling to rise from his chair, even as the closer of the two thugs swatted him back down into his seat.
“You’re comin’ with us, grandpa,” said the man before he spotted Wildcat. The other man’s eyes grew wide as he saw the famed costumed legend; he stood momentarily frozen.
“Go to hell,” said Wayne Grant as he vainly tried to grab the attacking thug’s genitalia.
Quickly sizing up the situation, Wildcat noted that both men were armed, as he could see the bulge from their pistols under their sports coats. He also knew by their manner that they weren’t police or other lawful authority figures. Wildcat noticed that the one closest to Wayne Grant was the more immediate threat, as his partner had frozen.
Wildcat deftly moved farther into the small room. The thug was so busy avoiding Wayne Grant’s clawing hand that he failed to see Wildcat. He was hit by a vicious uppercut that he never saw. He was unconscious by the time he hit the floor.
Wayne Grant whistled as he realized that Ted Grant truly was Wildcat.
The other man had started to react to the new situation in front of him, even as his partner went down. He was reaching into his sports coat for what was obviously his pistol. It was a small room, and the mobster backed up a few steps to give himself more room to deal with Wildcat.
Wildcat never gave him the opportunity, as he performed a flying tackle on the thug. Both men went careening to the floor. Wildcat was completely in control as they fell, ensuring that the thug underneath him landed hard on the cement floor, even as he used the man’s body as a cushion for his own impact. The fall knocked the wind out of the hired gun. Wildcat decided that he would take this thug back to Wayne Grant’s room and question both him and his partner before the police showed up.
He half-carried, half-dragged the semiconscious thug back to Wayne Grant’s room. There, he saw a couple of nurses and a doctor attending to the room’s resident. Wildcat tossed the thug in his hand over to a corner to the right of the door, then bent over to pick up the other one.
A puzzled look came across Wildcat’s cowled face as he bent over. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. He then felt a sharp pain in his buttocks from a needle.
“Nuts,” he said. “What a &*%%@#^ rookie mistake to make.” He swung out behind him and struck a nurse with a glancing blow, knocking her down.
His mind was fogging quickly, even as he realized that this trio of staff had cast no shadows on the opposite wall. Wildcat slammed into the doctor even as his knees went out from under him. He pressed his JSA emergency signal as he passed out.
***
The Bat-Sub was beneath the surface of Lake Erie, close to the shoreline of the city of Cliffland. Operating the submersible were the first-generation heirs of Batman. Red Robin decided against involving his protégé in this case. Batwing hadn’t liked the decision, but Red Robin was adamant that he didn’t want young Batwing involved in a case involving the Spectre.
Jim Corrigan might be powerless now. He was physically aging quickly to his actual age by magical means. That meant the supernatural was involved, and Dick Grayson didn’t think Jason was quite ready to deal with that aspect of a case. Batwing had been heavily involved in the Bogeyman case last year, along with the rest of the Junior JSA, a case where the villain was completely magical in nature. But a case involving the Spectre was something else entirely, because the Spirit of Vengeance usually dealt with foes of incredible power and, more importantly as far as Dick Grayson was concerned, immense evil. He did not want young Jason to face such things yet.
The black-haired beauty known to the world as the Huntress was monitoring the Bat-Sub’s camera as it scanned across the floor of the smallest of the Great Lakes for some sign of a body that had been beneath the surface of the lake for close to fifty years.
The Batman’s daughter had made a mental note to herself that the Bat-Sub needed a complete upgrade and refit when she first boarded the submersible. She had since decided that this current version of the Bat-Sub had to be scrapped. It was cramped with just her and Red Robin aboard. There would have been no room for Batwing, even if Red Robin had allowed him on the case. Batman and Robin had always had a Bat-Sub in their inventory of vessels since the 1940s, under various other names such as the Batmarine and the Sub-Batmarine, but the undersea crafts were always the least used vehicles. Helena Wayne remembered when her father and Dick completed this version of the Bat-Sub in the spring of 1970.
Her father took her out for the vessel’s second voyage, after Batman and Robin gave it a shakedown cruise. Her father had been semiretired for almost a decade by then, but he actively helped Dick upgrade his equipment. Batman and Robin’s basic equipment had stayed the same for decades, but their vehicles were regularly upgraded. However, in the early 1970s, Dick Grayson was appointed Ambassador to South Africa and joined her father in semiretirement. None of the vehicles in Batman’s inventory had been upgraded since 1975.
Helena Wayne later took up the identity of the Huntress shortly after her mother’s death, but she didn’t have access to any of the old Bat-vehicles in the beginning of her career. She continued not to use them even after Batman died. She preferred swinging through the skyscrapers of Gotham City with nylon ropes fired from her small crossbow.
Richard Grayson had since come back to the City of the Bat. He and Jason were slowly working on all of the old Bat-vehicles. The Batmobile was their first priority, since they were living at Wayne Manor, which was on the outskirts of the city, while Helena preferred to live in her penthouse in the city center. Red Robin built a highly upgraded Batcycle next. The Batplane had been replaced late last year, as had the Batcopter. The old Whirlybats were next on Red Robin’s list for a complete upgrade. While he made certain that both the Bat-Sub and Bat-Boat were seaworthy, Red Robin hadn’t had the time to do the necessary modernizing of the nearly twenty-year-old mini-sub.
The Huntress mused over the legacy of her father’s inventory of vehicles and made another mental note to herself to help Red Robin refurbish them. Just then, there was a jarring jolt that came from the back of the Bat-Sub, followed by a deafening boom.
Turning, the Huntress saw that the Bat-Sub had been breached.
Water quickly rushed into the interior of the Bat-Sub. Red Robin lay unconscious, slumped over the controls after being knocked out. Dick Grayson’s face was uncovered and bloody from a gash on his forehead. Sitting next to him was the unhurt and still-conscious Huntress.
The Daughter of Batman calmly slipped Red Robin’s cowl over his head. She would have to attend to the gash later. She then slid a rebreather from Red Robin’s utility belt into Dick’s mouth before taking her own out. The device, which allowed someone to breathe underwater for short periods of time, was created by her father.
The Huntress had three escape options from the stricken vessel. She could wait for the sub to fill with water and then easily open the escape hatch when the pressure was equalized both inside and outside of the sub. Alternatively, she could exit through the hole where water was quickly filling the interior compartment. The third option was to use the ejector seats that she and Red Robin were currently in. The seats were designed to propel the occupants out of deep ocean waters, similar to how military submarines fired intercontinental missiles. Lake Erie wasn’t as deep as an ocean, but it was still deep. The Huntress would have chosen this option if they weren’t so close to the shore.
The cold, polluted water of Lake Erie awakened Red Robin when it reached his torso. He quickly understood what had happened. He turned to speak, but noticed the rebreather strapped in his mouth. He remained silent, knowing his questions could wait. He gave Helena a thumbs-up to let her know he was awake. Together, they waited for the sub to fill up with water. He was tempted to activate the JSA alarm signal, but decided against it, as it would only reveal the location of the Bat-Sub to the JSA members. It was then that he noticed Wildcat’s emergency signal silently flashing. He pointed it out to the Huntress just before the sub’s backup electrical power shorted out. Red Robin didn’t see the Huntress’ questioning eyes, because they were now in total darkness.
Red Robin reached out for the Huntress before checking the escape hatch above. He knew the Bat-Sub well and could find the hatch easily in the dark, but not the woman he considered a sister. The Huntress took hold of Red Robin’s hand. She then moved her hand up to his shoulder and grabbed his cape. This way, she would be able to easily follow him out of the sinking Bat-Sub.
Together, they exited the dying Bat-Sub and swam to the surface. Several speedboats and fishing boats surrounded them when they surfaced, each craft manned by men carrying submachine guns pointed toward the Heirs of Batman.
“You can surrender or die!” said a high, shrill male voice.
Red Robin and the Huntress looked at one another and silently agreed to surrender for now. Both activated their JSA emergency signals before boarding the vessel as instructed by their captors.
***
A sleek, modern jet with the famed JSA emblem on its wings and fuselage soared through the skies across upstate New York, on its way to Cliffland, Ohio. Inside were two costumed members of the Justice Society, one powerless member without a costume, and a guest who’d once been the teenage sidekick of an absent member. Hourman was at the controls, while Doctor Mid-Nite sat in the copilot seat. Jim Corrigan sat in the back, wearing his street clothes — a green business suit from off the rack, a white dress shirt, and a red striped tie.
Next to him sat another man dressed in green. He wore a gas mask and was once known as Sandy the Golden Boy, but Sleeper was now his new code name. Sanderson “Sandy” Hawkins had first worn a green business suit when he took up the identity of Sleeper, but he decided that the costume looked too much like his mentor’s. Now he wore a green beret, a turtleneck sweater, green camouflage pants, and combat boots.
“Something’s happening at our destination,” said Doctor Mid-Nite. “Wildcat’s emergency signal just went off.”
Hourman looked at his old friend and nodded grimly. Rex Tyler decided to call the control tower and tell them that the JSA was going into emergency mode. That meant that all aircraft were to be diverted from the flight path of the JSA Shuttle Jet. This order was rarely used and had only been in effect since the 1970s. Only the President of the United States or the SAC Air Force command could override this order.
The jolt from the afterburners kicking in sent Jim Corrigan’s head crashing back into the padded headrest, which prevented whiplash. As the Spectre, Jim Corrigan could travel at instantaneous speeds, at which time he was quite possibly the most powerful being on Earth; now he was powerless, and his stomach was doing somersaults. Jim Corrigan wasn’t used to this kind of action. He was a common, everyday police detective, not a super-hero traveling around in a supersonic jet.
“Do you need a barf bag?” asked Sleeper, who was slightly amused at seeing the Spectre’s other half turn almost as pale as the Ghostly Guardian.
Doctor Mid-Nite was not at all amused, as he believed that Jim Corrigan’s condition of aging a year for every eight hours could be exacerbated by something as simple as air sickness. He reached into his medical bag and gave the police detective a fast-acting anti-queasiness pill. Even as Corrigan’s stomach settled down, he noticed another two lights flashing next to Doctor Mid-Nite’s console.
Also noticing the lights, Charles McNider said, “Red Robin and the Huntress have now called out their emergency signals. Give me a few minutes to locate where they are.”
Sleeper leaned forward as he said, “We’re going to have to rescue Wildcat, too.”
“I’m aware of that, Sandy,” said Hourman. “I just wish I knew what the situation was, so I’d know where to land first.”
Sleeper preferred to be called Sanderson these days, but kept quiet because he knew that it was concern for his teammate’s safety that had caused Hourman to call him by his old nickname.
“We’re over Lake Erie and approaching Cliffland, Rex,” said Doctor Mid-Nite in a tone that reflected his best bedside manner.
“Right, Doc. Helena and Dick were searching the lake bottom for Jim’s original body, so I’m going to take us in nice and low,” said the legendary Man of the Hour.
Within minutes, the JSA Shuttle Jet came across several small boats. They all looked down at the vessels, and Jim Corrigan said, “Holy–! Red Robin and the Huntress are on board that big one just left of the center.”
“Right,” said Hourman. “I’ll turn around, and we’ll settle those bums’ hash.”
“Rex, we’ve got multiple surface-to-air missiles coming our way,” warned Doctor Mid-Nite.
“$#!^!” said Hourman. “Well, that changes my plan.” And he attempted to evade dozens of missiles. He was successful until, unexpectedly, the right engine conked out for no apparent reason.
“Huh? That shouldn’t have happened. I checked the engines before we left. They were A-okay,” said Doctor Mid-Nite.
If he was struggling mightily to keep the contents of his stomach inside, Jim Corrigan would have told his old teammate that the reason was magic, courtesy of Shathan the Eternal.
Both wings of the craft were hit simultaneously by a pair of missiles, and the JSA Shuttle Jet fell like a stone into Lake Erie.