by Dave Barnowski
The JSA stood to one side, watching. Doctor Mid-Nite attended to Wayne Grant while Hourman flexed his right hand, saying, “I think I sprained my wrist. I’m getting too old to do this stuff without Miraclo, Doc.”
Wildcat chuckled at Hourman’s complaint. “I been hearing that for twenty years now, and every time I offer you some lessons on self-defense, you say that you don’t have to worry because of that special pill of yours.”
Hourman looked down at his wrist as he flexed it again, then at Wildcat before saying, “Five o’clock next Friday afternoon okay with you, Wildcat?”
Wildcat grinned back at Hourman and nodded. “It’s a date.”
Red Robin, the Huntress, and Sleeper watched as the Guns Benson Gang was taken into custody by the Cliffland City Police Department. The small man with the high-pitched voice smiled smugly, because he knew that most of these officers were on his payroll.
Red Robin smiled back at the small man as he walked over to the detective in charge. “We’ve also contacted the FBI, Treasury, and the ATF. I’ve been told that they’ll have agents here within the hour, Detective, so don’t leave with any of these suspects. There’s obvious evidence that federal crimes have been committed here, as well as state ones.”
The detective gave Red Robin a nervous look before glancing over at Guns. Benson scowled at the policeman’s words. The policeman swallowed hard before saying, “They can meet us at the station.”
The Huntress stood beside Red Robin and said, “Then the JSA will go with you and make sure that these gentlemen are there when the federal authorities arrive.”
The big detective stuck his forefinger in the Huntress’s face and said, “No, you damned masks will stay here. You’re in Cliffland, not Gotham, %!^@#!”
The Huntress matter-of-factly said, “You can either move your finger or lose it.” Her demeanor conveyed that she meant every word as she smiled in a way that reminded Red Robin of her mother.
The detective immediately put his hand down, now cowed by both the Huntress and Guns Benson. The man saw no way out of his predicament. He silently called out to the voice that sometimes came to him since he had given away his shadow in exchange for wealth.
No answer came. Then the whole warehouse was full of shadows in rough humanoid forms. The JSA quickly came to their feet, worried that the Shadow Demons of the Anti-Monitor might have returned to Earth again as they had during the Crisis on Infinite Earths. (*) Before they could actually respond, the shadows entered the bodies of almost everyone in the warehouse, except for that of the heroes and Wayne Grant.
[(*) Editor’s note: See “Final Crisis,” Crisis on Infinite Earths #12 (March, 1986).]
The shadows disappeared when they entered the individuals, who all screamed in agony and ecstasy as they became reunited with their shadows, left either on their knees or lying prone on the ground.
Doctor Mid-Nite was kept busy attending to the criminals while most of the policemen in the warehouse. The other members of the JSA tried to help Mid-Nite, but there were too many individuals in need. They were all crumpled up on the floor, whimpering. However, Guns Benson had sat up almost immediately after the initial shock of being reunited with his shadow.
Then the Spectre appeared, causing most of the men to become even more fearful. Doctor Mid-Nite grew angry over seeing so many men in pain and fear. He went over to the Ghostly Guardian and demanded to know what the Spectre had done.
The Spectre looked long and hard at Doctor Mid-Nite, who returned his own angry gaze back at the Ghostly Guardian. Charles McNider was not someone who could be intimidated. The Spectre looked away first and said, “Sorry about the staring contest, Doc. Sometimes the Spectre’s personality rubs off on me,” said Jim Corrigan in the graveyard voice of the Spectre. “I gave them back their shadows. They had each given them to Shathan, and their shadows were really parts of their souls.”
“Magic,” said Doctor Mid-Nite. “But that doesn’t explain their pain and fear. Look at them — they’re whimpering in terror!”
“That’s because I also showed them their fate if they continue down the road they are on — eternal damnation. I showed them Hell.”
“Why on earth would you do that?” asked the doctor.
“To give them a chance at salvation; repentance is a powerful thing. Some will, some won’t, but showing them what’s in store for them if they don’t is worth a shot. I don’t kill anymore, Doc. I try to help rehabilitate criminals now.”
The Huntress had overheard the conversation between the Spectre and Doctor Mid-Nite, and Helena Wayne wasn’t sure she liked all the implications of what the Spectre had said. She then noticed that Guns Benson was behaving much differently than the other men. “Why isn’t he reacting like the others?” she asked the Spectre.
“Because I didn’t show him Hell, Huntress,” replied the Spectre.
“If what you said before about the hell these men are facing, Spectre, you’re condemning Guns Benson to a horrible fate,” said the Huntress.
“No, he has done that for himself by his own actions. I’m just depriving him of the benefit I gave the others.”
“Benefit!” exclaimed Doctor Mid-Nite as he looked at all the stricken men.
Guns Benson was now on his feet. He was being closely watched by Wildcat and knew that he couldn’t escape. He didn’t have any weapons and stood no chance against any of the JSA members. He realized that the Spectre took everything away from him, just like the ghost had taken his father’s mind years ago. “This doesn’t matter, Corrigan! Yeah, that’s right, I know you’re Jim Corrigan, Spectre. I may be going to prison, but I’ll order a hit on your family. I’ll take them just like you took my old man from me.”
The Spectre turned grimly toward the small man. The other heroes and uncorrupted police officers in the warehouse collectively took a sharp intake of breath.
Wayne Grant picked up one of the sawed-off shotguns lying on the ground and blew Guns Benson’s head off, crying, “You killed my Jimmy! You killed my son!”
Sleeper and the JSA looked around to make sure that there was no other threat, while the Spectre rushed over to his old partner Wayne Grant, who had dropped the sawed-off shotgun he had just fired. Jim Corrigan looked sadly into Wayne’s weeping eyes. Wayne’s face became frightened when he saw the Spectre so close.
“Wayne, I’m so sorry,” said Jim Corrigan in the otherworldly voice of the Spectre.
That voice was too much for the old man, who suddenly clutched his chest in tremendous pain. He died in the Spectre’s arms. The Spectre changed almost instantly into Jim Corrigan and cried, “Doc, help! Please, dear God, help Wayne.”
Doctor Mid-Nite came over to the pair, took Wayne’s body from Jim Corrigan, and examined the older man. He turned to the police detective and wistfully said, “He’s dead, Jim.”
“What happened?” asked the grief-stricken detective.
“It looks like he had a massive coronary,” said Doctor Mid-Nite, though he didn’t bother to mention that he also believed the Spectre’s appearance had frightened the old man to death.
The Huntress approached the melancholy scene and spoke with Corrigan. “Detective, all these men know your identity. I think you need to start thinking about that ASAP.”
Corrigan shook his head and whispered, “No, they don’t, Huntress. I’ll take away any memory of the Spectre’s presence here tonight from them, as well as my secret identity.”
The Huntress’ jaw dropped. She started to speak, then thought better of it. She shook her head as she walked away in silence. She had a great deal of trouble with Jim Corrigan’s sense of morality.
After Red Robin walked over to the newer-generation heroine and asked her what was wrong, she told him and added, “I wish I had known these things about him before we voted to reinstate him back into the JSA.”
“The original Starman has trouble with the Spectre as well,” said Red Robin. “A lot of us do, but he has definitely mellowed.”
The last of the gang members and crooked policemen were carted away. Ambulances had taken away the bodies of Guns Benson and Wayne Grant, leaving the JSA alone in the warehouse.
Wildcat spoke first. “How’re we getting home? All of our transportation is at the bottom of Lake Erie!”
“I can take care of our transportation problems, Wildcat,” said James Corrigan.
“It would be wise to have the Bat-Sub and the JSA Shuttle Jet back in their respective berths because they could give clues to our real identities,” said Red Robin.
“Do you want them fully repaired as well?” asked the redheaded police detective.
“You can do that?” Sleeper asked.
“Yes, I can. It will take a bit of concentration, because I’m not nearly as powerful as I once was, so I’ll ask you to leave me alone for a little bit,” Corrigan replied.
Sleeper shook his head as he walked away with the JSA members and whispered with awe, “Not nearly as powerful.”
“Yeah, Sandy. He was damn near omnipotent before the Crisis,” said Hourman.
“And a completely merciless bastard as well,” added Doctor Mid-Nite. “He would have killed all of the criminals we arrested today.”
Jim Corrigan walked over to the assembled heroes, changing into the Spectre as he did. “All done. I suppose you want to be deposited back at the Brownstone.”
“Not me,” said Sleeper. “I’d prefer it if you sent me back to New York.”
“As you wish,” said the Spectre, and the heroes were instantaneously transported to the JSA meeting room. There they found several other more powerful members who had been called away on a mission to space: both Starmen (Ted and David Knight), Green Lantern, Doctor Fate, Superman, Power Girl, and Wonder Woman.
The two teams compared notes on their separate cases. The team that had gone into space at Wonder Woman’s request had discovered that Mars the God of War had made a pact with an inter-dimensional shadow demon to arrange for the more powerful members of the JSA to travel to the planet Mars.
Noticing that the Spectre was uncomfortable with the easy camaraderie among his fellow JSA teammates, Doctor Fate went to talk to Jim Corrigan. “Nabu was always uncomfortable too, Jim. Inza and I aren’t, and you weren’t back in the old days. Relax and say yes when Wildcat offers you a beer.”
Corrigan did as his old friend suggested and felt much more relaxed an hour later when he went to the Atom’s house to pick up his family. There, he discovered that his wife and daughters were engaged in a game of Trivia Chase with the Pratts. His daughters insisted that the family stay until the game was over and that he join their team.
Jim Corrigan and Al Pratt started to recount old JSA tales from the WWII era, which only Al’s godson Albert Rothstein seemed terribly interested in, until Al’s son Grant and Jim’s daughters started to roll their eyes.
In unison, Jim and Al both said, “Okay, we’ll stop.” Everyone around the table laughed heartily. Jim couldn’t remember having this much fun with his fellow JSA members.
***
Later that night, Jim Corrigan lay awake in bed with a broad smile on his face. His wife Andrea was asleep and snuggled next to him. He was at peace, but he knew that he had to see the Spectre. He closed his eyes, and his spirit travelled to the netherworld where the original Ghostly Guardian resided and watched Corrigan in order to learn how to wield his power responsibly.
“Hello, James Corrigan,” said the Spectre. “I have been waiting for you.”
Jim smiled back at the Spectre. “I’ve had a rough day and a good day, Spectre. I saw an old friend die because I frightened him so much. And I enjoyed the camaraderie of the JSA and some of their family members.”
“Wayne Grant is at peace,” said the Spectre.
“I know. I also know he died of fright because of the Spectre’s reputation from the 1940s, back when I was in charge of the Spectre the first time.”
“That, and Wayne had a guilty conscience, Jim. He had just killed his son’s murderer.”
Corrigan nodded and said, “I wish I could say that I’m sorry I didn’t give Guns Benson a chance at redemption — but I can’t. I am human, Spectre, and it is a dangerous slope when we become judge and jury. I wanted to tell you that I’m aware of it.”
The Spectre merely nodded, then said, “You defeated Shathan in a remarkable way. I would have lost that fight.”
“The light of the Voice was what won that battle,” replied Corrigan. “I’m not sure if it would have worked if Shathan’s power didn’t rely so much on shadows.”
“It would have, James Corrigan,” said the Spectre.
Corrigan nodded and said, “Goodnight.” And he returned to his bed.
***
A week later, Detective James Corrigan was standing in Police Commissioner Clancy O’Hara’s office with his lawyer, Helena Wayne. Corrigan had been placed on leave following the disclosure that his birth date was incorrect on his application due to his social security number, because that number indicated that Jim was in his eighties.
“I’m afraid the City Council has gotten involved in this, Jimmy,” said the Commissioner. “An’ they’ve ordered me to ask fer your resignation, else they will terminate you.”
“Why?” asked his lawyer. “His record is exemplary.”
“Because, Miss Wayne, Jim will receive full retirement benefits if he stays on the force for another year,” explained O’Hara. “The City Council doesn’t want to pay Jim retirement forever when he leaves.”
“It will be that way with every police force in the country, Commissioner. What am I supposed to do? I’m a cop, and I’ve been a cop for over fifty years!” cried Corrigan.
“Well, the Gotham City Police take care of their own, Jimmy.” He handed Corrigan three envelopes. Each contained offers from other cities’ police departments for Corrigan to join as a police chief or a commissioner. Each offer stated that there would be no retirement involved, but instead a good severance package.
Jim whistled and thanked the Commissioner before leaving his office. Upon entering the elevator, Helena asked Jim which one he was considering. “Don’t know. It will have to be a family decision.”
The End