(From the adventures of Flex Mentallo: original printed in ‘My Greenest Adventure #128- Your informative author: Trav)
Sunday afternoon: the sun is shining and nobody has attacked Danny the street for days.
So, Flex Mentallo, man of mystery muscle, gathered up a bunch of the local kids, helped them with their chores, taught them how to play foursquare and then took them out for ice cream.
They were scattered about, sitting in the grass, and on the curb, watching the squirrels, when Legion, the newsboy, wiped his face with his sleeve and said:
“Hey, Flex! You must have had bunches of adventures before coming here, right?”
“Oh, a fair amount,” Flex nodded, focusing on his chocolate/vanilla swirl soft-serve cone. “I like to stay busy.”
“Can you tell us about one?”
There was a murmur of interest among the crowd.
Flex looked around at the kids, saw their eager expressions and a smile played across his friendly, ruggedly clean-cut features.
“Sure. Now, on my Earth…number 32, or was it 16…?” He said, then shrugged his broad shoulders. “Anyway, on my Earth…”
“Wait, I thought you were just a comic book character brought to life by magic?” A kid asked, digging his cellphone out of his pocket. “I read on wickedpedia…”
“On your Earth…this Earth,” Flex explained. “People know me as a comic book hero. That helped build the link between my Earth and yours. On my Earth, I’m a real person…”
“And the Doom Patrol are all just comic book characters?” A girl with pigtails asked.
“Well, not all of them. On my Earth, there isn’t a Doom Patrol. Cliff Steele has his own comic, but he’s not a robot. He’s a race car driver that goes on adventures…”
“Like Speed Racer?”
“Yeah, I have no idea who that is,” Flex said. “And Miss Farr has a comic too. I think she solves mysteries and gives dating advice…”
“What about Mr. Trainor.”
“He doesn’t have one,” Flex replied, quietly. “But, let’s keep that to ourselves. It might hurt his feelings. Anyway, back on my Earth, I’m also on a hero team, we call ourselves, the Fastidious five…”
“What’s that mean? Fastidious…?”
“Good question, Racheal.” Flex said, nodding. “There are going to be some big words in this story. Make a note of any you don’t know and afterwards we’ll head over to the bookstore, and see if they have a dictionary we can borrow. So, anyway, my team had a tradition: after we stopped a villain or a monster, we went out for ice cream…”
The Fastidious Five’s headquarters was a three-storied brownstone, it took up nearly an entire city block.
The team was sitting around their meeting room, mostly gathered about the round meeting table, enjoying their victory and their ice cream.
Flex Mentallo had a fudge swirl cone.
Seated next to him was ‘The Fact’ (he doesn’t say, much, but he seems to know a little bit about everything.)
He wore a brown suit, gloves and fedora, a blue tie, and a purple mask, that had built in goggle eyepieces, and covered his entire head.
Across from the Fact, was Doctor 45 (named for the record, not the gun…do you kids even know what a record is? Anyway, he’s a brilliant scientist, the master of sonic studies.)
His orange popsicle was dripping, as he was more focused on the gadgets he was working on.
Doctor 45 was an older man, his grey hair swept back, and sporting a full beard. He had two turntables, one strapped to his chest and the other on his back, like they were armor. He wore a maroon suit and matching tie and gloves. He sported a pair of goggles, and a wide belt, made up of pouches. They seemed to hold numerous cassettes and a couple Walkmen.
Next to him, cautiously eating his lime popsicle, so he wouldn’t drip any on his suit, was Doctor 45’s sidekick, Romantic Rick. (He didn’t have any super powers, but was a sharp dresser and a bit of a ladies man…Grant, you can ask your parents what that means, while you’re asking them what a turntable and a cassette is)
Rick was younger, taller and slimmer than his mentor. His brown hair was spiked. His wide-lapeled suit was light brown, though he would have told you it was ‘cafe au lait’.
Slumped on the nearby sofa, was the Atomic Pile (half man, half plant, half nuclear reactor, with a sense of humor to match.)
His body resembled a moss-covered gorilla, while his head was a swirling orb of atomic energy.
He had a box of ice cream sandwiches, which were inserted into his energy cranium, wrapper and all.
Pacing the room was the Zipper (his magic whistle gave him super speed…don’t look at me like that, Kieth, you heard me right)
He had windswept blond hair and a maroon suit.
“So, what next?” He asked, zooming about the room, pausing to straighten an item on a shelf or scoop up a discarded wrapper.
“We get to relax,” Rick said, stretching his legs. “Try standing still. You might like it.”
The Zipper scowled as he whooshed by the stylish sidekick.
(What’s that, Arnold? Yes, there are six of us in the Fastidious 5. You don’t count sidekicks. It sounds a bit mean, but that’s the rule.)
“Don’t fight, fellows,” Flex said. “Something will come up. It always does. Myself, I’m hoping for a quiet afternoon.”
The Atomic Pile hopped up on the back of the sofa and peered out the window.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Flex,” He said, in his odd, echoey voice, as he gestured his teammates over.
“Hmmm…what?” Doctor 45 asked, looking up from tinkering, when he noticed everyone else was crowded around the window. “Something up?”
“Looks like a bunch of Roman centurions are robbing the diamond exchange,” Flex said, still holding his cone.
“Meet you guys down there…!” The Zipper said.
“Showoff,” Romantic Rick muttered, repairing his mussed-up hair, from the speedsters’ exit.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” The Atomic pile said, altering his atomic structure till he was intangible and could pass, ghost-like through the wall and then began climbing down the side of the building.
“Doesn’t anyone use the elevator anymore?” Doctor 45 asked, hurriedly gathering up his gadgets. “Give me a hand, Richard.”
“We’re going to miss all the excitement,” Romantic Rick grumbled.
Meanwhile, down on the street, there actually were a dozen Roman centurions running away from the diamond exchange, carrying bags of diamonds.
The surrounding bystanders had mixed reactions. Half stood around, convinced it was a stunt promotion for some new movie. The other half was running away like crazy.
The Zipper skidded to a halt, his special steel enforced, diamond-soled sneakers raised sparks on the concrete.
“Stop where you are!” The Zipper said, in a commanding tone, fists on his hips. “Put the loot and those spears and swords down on the ground!”
“In an orderly manner,” Flex Mentallo said, landing, after leaping from the 5’s HQ “I know you gentlemen are angry, but no throwing things on the ground.”
The Roman soldiers stopped, starring, open-mouthed.
They then all lined up, struck the butts of their spears against the street and shouted, defiantly, back at the heroes.
“What?” The Zipper asked, puzzled. “I don’t understand them…?”
The Fact, suddenly appearing at the speedsters’ side, held out an index card. Scrawled on it, in green marker, was the sentence ‘Citizens of ancient Rome spoke Latin’.
“That’s what I thought,” Flex nodded, stroking his manly chin, thoughtfully. “Course, I took French in high school. Anyone on the team speak Latin?”
The Atomic Pile leapt from the brownstone to the street, startling the Roman soldiers, as he took in the situation.
“That sounds like real, conversational Latin,” He muttered.
At the sight of the strange man-creature, the front line of centurions charged.
The Atomic pile dodged the first spear, then grabbed it, and swung it, Roman Centurion and all, like a club, to knock down the next two.
Flex Mentallo struck a pose, flexed his mighty biceps, summoning his “Hero of the Beach!” energy aura, which forced the front line of soldiers back.
The Zipper raced around the block, blowing on his magic whistle, coming up behind the centurions and tapped one of the ones carrying the loot on the shoulder.
“That doesn’t belong to you,” He explained. “So, if you just put it down, you could avoid the walloping your friends are getting.”
The reply was in latin, and was accompanied by a sword slash, the speedster easily dodged.
“I’m going to guess that’s a no’,” He muttered, running circles, literally around the soldier until he and his sack of diamonds collapsed into a heap on the pavement.
Two of his comrades turned, swords out, to help the dizzy centurion.
The Zipper was a blur, dodging a pair of swords. This left him too distracted to notice the Roman soldier sneaking up behind him, until he struck the sharp-dressed speedster with his bag of diamonds.
The Zipper fell to his knees. He would have dropped his speed whistle if it hadn’t been attached to a chain around his neck.
He blinked and shook his head, aware enough to realize he was in trouble.
Before any of the other centurions could attack, the Fact and Atomic Pile were by his side, fending off the Romans.
Suddenly, a glowing disk appeared overhead. It was made of energy, yet felt like a solid object. Dozens of beams shot out from it. Each beam struck a centurion, and then they, and the diamonds, disappeared.
The disk blipped out of existence, leaving the confused heroes and numerous bystanders, standing in the street.
“What happened?” Romantic Rick exclaimed, as he and Dr 45 joined them. “They’re gone!”
His teammates shrugged in reply.
Rick stomped his foot in exasperation, while his grey-bearded mentor absently consulted various gadgets from his belt and pockets.
The rest of the team gathered around the late arrivals and attempted to make sense of the bizarre robbery.
Their impromptu conference was interrupted by a police officer running up them.
“Hey!” He shouted. “You guys! We need your help!”
“Still…?” Flex asked.
“Again?” The Zipper said.
“There’s a bunch of confederate soldiers, robbing the Bank on Case Street!”
And, so the rest of the day went…
After the bank robbing civil war soldiers, a gang of Vikings attacked the warehouse of a major fur dealer, then some cavemen rampaged through the stock exchange.
By late that afternoon, the Fastidious 5 were back in the brownstone HQ, but looking a bit more bedraggled and frustrated then when they’d started the day.
Dr 45 and the Fact were both hard at work, trying to figure things out. The Doctor was back at the meeting table, surrounded by even more gadgets, numerous slips of scribbled on paper and an assortment of half-drunk cups of tea.
The Fact was sitting, Indian style, on the coffee table, pondering and meditating.
The Zipper was sprawled on the sofa, having kicked off his shoes and fanning himself with a hand.
Rick, when not fetching cups of tea and equipment for his mentor, was dusting off his suit and fixing his hair.
The Atomic Pile was squatting on a chair, intently studying Dr. 45’s progress.
Flex Mentallo, not being scientifically minded, had made himself a sandwich.
“I don’t get it,” The Zipper grumbled. “If you have the ability to teleport your gang away, why the crazy costumes…?”
“And why so many gangs?” Flex asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “It wasn’t the same gang in disguise. Whoever is behind this must have an army!”
“An army he can teleport anywhere in the city…!” The Atomic Pile mused, thoughtfully rubbing the place where its chin would be, if it had had a face.
“Ahem, pardon me.”
Everyone looked over at Doctor 45.
He was a quiet man, nowhere near as flashy or dramatic as his teammates. He always seemed quite content to stay in the background, puttering with his various sonic interests and helping in investigations. You would think he’d be lost in the shuffle, a doddering, older man, amongst these bold, colorful heroes, but when he had something to say, his teammates all took him quite seriously.
“The miscreants are not teleporting.” He explained, in a quiet, lecturer’s tone. “As you know, my expertise with sound, is based on the study of vibrations, but all forms of energy generate a vibrational frequency. I have quite an extensive collection of vibratory designations…”
“The point, Doctor,” Romantic Rick said, handing him a cup of tea.
“Ah, yes…anyway, I’ve identified the vibrations our recent foes have been using and it’s not at all similar to ones generated by matter teleportation…”
“Then how…?” The Zipper asked, sitting up.
“The energy vibration is temporal,” Doctor 45 explained, nodding, and taking a sip of tea.
“Sorry, I was an English major,” Flex Mentallo said, looking around, confused.
“It’s time travel.” The Atomic Pile intoned, thoughtfully.
“So, they weren’t thugs in disguise…?” The Zipper exclaimed.
“We actually fought a bunch of Roman soldiers and cavemen?!” Flex muttered. “Well, that’s actually kind of neat.”
“Can you trace the temporal vibrations?” The Atomic Pile asked, leaning forward and reaching with one of his long arms to pick up a gadget and study it.
“Oh yes,” Doctor 45 nodded, eager to have someone to discuss his theories with. “The frequencies are quite distinct…here, let me show you…!”
He grabbed a napkin and began happily scribbling equations.
While Romantic Rick stood behind the Doctor’s chair, struggling to follow the scientific consultation going on, the Fact stood up and walked over to Flex Mentallo and placed one of his cards on the table.
As Flex was reaching for it, the Zipper whooshed over and grabbed it first.
“What’s this?” He asked.
“Looks like,” Flex said, standing up and reading over the speedsters’ shoulder. “A list of potential targets by…whoever is behind this ruckus.”
“Who is behind this?” Rick asked, from over by the table. “Do we have any idea?”
“Doesn’t sound like anyone we’ve met before,” Flex shrugged.
“We’ve met time travelers before,” The Zipper said.
“Traci Tempus was just a troublemaker,” Flex said. “This is an organized campaign. This is someone up to something…?”
“We need more information.” The Atomic Pile said, in his strange, echoey voice.
Most of the team looked towards the scientists in the group, while Flex glanced over at the Fact.
The quiet, masked mystery man nodded in reply, then adjusted his tie, as he slipped out of the meeting room. He then gave Doctor 45 the fact card, to help in his planning.
The team split up, Flex, the Atomic Pile and the Zipper each checking out a location on the Fact’s card, while Doctor 45 and Romantic Rick drove around in the Doctor’s Tunebuggy, trying to trace the time vibrations.
Flex Mentallo knew there was no point in trying to be inconspicuous, it never seemed to work for him. So, he strolled about the financial distract, nodding to the passing stockbrokers and secretaries.
“Afternoon,” He said, with a friendly smile. “Don’t suppose any of you have seen anything…well, unusual, as you’re going about your business?”
“Uh…like what?” A man in a grey suit asked, adjusting his glasses.
“Um…a group of unruly conquistadors…?” He replied, unsure.
“You mean like that bunch of musketeers?” A secretary asked, pointing down the street.
“I’m going to have ask you hardworking folks to cut your lunch hours short and get off the street,” Flex announced, cracking his knuckles, as he jogged towards the band of French Musketeers that had just appeared on the busy city street.
Dodging the half dozen rapiers, Flex Mentallo moved through the crowd of musketeers with a grace and skill that would have made any professional dancer or boxer envious.
In between dodging, Flex found the time for a quick jab and the occasional uppercut and soon had gone from six to one lone, anxious musketeer.
“Hey,” Flex said, in a gentle, friendly tone. “Do you think we could just talk this over?”
The musketeer shouted something in French and lunged forward.
“I took French in school,” Flex explained, apologetically, right before his fist collided with the musketeer’s chin. “But, only got a C+. You’re going to have to talk slower.”
Flex was gathering the Musketeers up, into a pile, when the Zipper skidded to a halt. “Sorry,” He said. “Got distracted by a bunch of Aztec warriors…”
He paused to count the musketeers.
“I had to deal with eight of them.”
“It’s not a contest,” Flex muttered, dusting off his palms. “Any word from the Doctor or…?”
He looked up, as a card came drifting down on the breeze.
Flex caught it, before it hit the ground.
“The Fact?” Zipper asked.
Flex nodded.
“That’s kinda creepy, how he does that.” The Zipper frowned, looking around.
Flex nodded absently, too focused on the fact card. He then handed it to his teammate.
“Meet you there!” He announced, taking a running leap at the nearest building and using the power of his mystery muscle-enhanced leg muscles to propel himself to the roof.
The Zipper straightened his lapels, brushed back his hair and placing his magic whistle between his lips took off.
Down at the docks, the Atomic Pile swung along the telephone lines, like a monkey. He then leapt, swung on a flagpole and landed on a rooftop.
The man-monster surveyed the neighborhood, peering all about him, as well as all across the light and frequency spectrum, looking for anything suspicious.
“I know this is the waterfront,” He muttered to himself, but I don’t think those pirates belong here.”
He leapt down to the street, landing like an angry, and slightly radioactive, silverback gorilla.
“No further,” He growled, clenching his large fists, causing sparks.
The dozen or so pirates skidded to a halt, intimidated by the bizarre mix of man, animal and nuclear reactor.
But they were hard, seafaring men, so soon mustered their courage and the Atomic Pile then found a variety of swords, knives and flintlock pistols pointed at him.
“Hnnn,” He muttered, frowning ( not that you could tell with his strange energy sphere of a head), as he slowly turned. He flexed his broad hands, staying in a low, defensive crouch.
As he turned, the Atomic Pile spotted Flex Mentallo and the Fact standing behind the ring of pirates.
They seemed more interested in the pirates, then concerned for their teammates’ safety.
“Huh, pirates,” Flex mused, uncrossing his manly arms. “Don’t think we’ve fought pirates before…”
The Fact handed him a card. Flex glanced at it, and frowned.
“They don’t count,” He told his mysterious friend. “They were mermaids that were hijacking ships, not pirates…we can debate it later.”
He cracked his knuckles and charged the, now rather confused, circle of pirates. At the same time, from within the circle, the Atomic Pile also charged them.
By the time the Zipper and Doctor 45’s car arrived, the two were tossing buccaneers around, pausing to occasionally add an unconscious pirate to one of two piles, as a way of keeping score, as to who had defeated the most.
“Who’s winning?” The Zipper asked, before noticing the Doctor and the Fact had wandered off, and only Romantic Rick was still around.
The dapper sidekick shrugged, and looked over and began counting.
“…Five, six…that pile, by the parked car. Whose is that one?”
“I just got here!” The Zipper replied, exasperated.
“Oh, then I,…where did the Doctor go?” Rick asked, worriedly looking around, before running off.
“What’s going on?” Flex asked, throwing the last pirate on his pile, and dusting off his hands.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” The Zipper grumbled. “The Fact’s gone and Rick’s got his hair in a knot because Doctor 45’s wandered off!”
“That building, over there, might be a good place to look.” The Atomic Pile intoned, pointing.
“The weird glow does seem suspicious,” Flex nodded.
He then reached out one mighty arm and grabbed hold of the back of the Zipper’s jacket, just as the well-dressed speedster was about to race off.
“Let’s stick together this time,” The man of mystery muscle suggested.
The trio raced up the stairs, to the roof, where they joined their teammates in facing a strange figure.
The man was quite round, and not terribly tall. His blue suit had last been fashionable in the 40’s.
He sported a bowl-cut, flecked with grey, and a dire scowl.
Next to him was a grocery cart, loaded down with an eclectic assortment of scientific paraphernalia. It looked like a mix between a water heater, a Christmas tree and an octopus.
“Who is that?” The Zipper asked, pointing.
“If my instruments are correct,” Doctor 45 said. “He’s the one behind the time-displaced foes we’ve been dealing with. He claims to be a doctor as well.”
“I am!” The overweight scientist exclaimed. “I am Doctor Doome!”
“Doctor Dome…?” Rick muttered.
“Sounded more like Doctor Dumb to me,” The Zipper smirked.
“I will not be mocked!” The villain shouted, shrilly. “It’s Doome, Doctor Doome! As in ‘I am your doom!”
“Excitable fellow, isn’t he?” Flex remarked. “Don’t mean to sound rude, but what’s your story? Why all the shenanigans?”
“Shenanigans…!” Doctor Doome sputtered. “I have mastered time itself!”
“And you’re using your mastery of time to rob banks?” The Zipper asked.
“Yes…well, it’s expensive to maintain a time displacer…I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you!”
“Whoa there,” Flex admonished. “ ‘Likes of you’…? That sounds faintly racist. That kind of language does nobody any good.”
“Why am I always plagued by you costumed dolts!” Doctor Doome fumed. “I was on my way to power and riches, when a group…dressed almost as ridiculously as you fools, interfered and I found myself flung across the multi-verse to this world!”*
(* seriously, this isn’t Doctor Doome’s first appearance. Check out All Star Squadron #29 to get a better idea of what he’s ranting about- Trav)
“I would have been content to rule this earth, but then I discovered it too had costumed heroes!” Doome continued.
“Instead I have been…acquiring the funds I need to rebuild my cross-time portal and relocate to a world free of your ilk!”
“Okay, I let you off easy on ‘likes of you’,” Flex said, stepping forward and cracking his knuckles. “But ‘ilk’? That kind of language is going to lead to rough stuff.”
As the muscular hero approached him, Doctor Doome reached into his coat and came out with a device that resembled a stubby, metal flashlight.
“Back!” He commanded. “I’ll have none of you cretinous muscle heads laying your hands upon me!”
He flicked a switch and an oval-shaped opening appeared in the air and a half dozen cowboys on horseback came galloping out.
“Well, this is just getting monotonous,” Flex Mentallo grumbled.
“Hey, he’s monkeying with the big gadget!” Romantic Rick shouted, pointing emphatically at Doctor Doome.
“I’ll handle the buckaroos,” The Atomic pile said.
He flung himself at the cowboys, like an angry gorilla, his head sparking like a bug zapper.
“Should we help him?” The Zipper asked.
“You want to tell him you don’t think he can handle six or seven heavily armed rustlers?” Flex asked back.
“We’ve got to help the Doctor!” Romantic Rick interrupted.
The heroes looked where the dapper sidekick was pointing.
Doctor 45, more intent on monitoring and cataloguing the exotic energy vibrations, was absent-mindedly strolling about the roof and in danger of walking into the open time portal.
“Let’s wrap this up,” Flex said, clenching his fists, while running at the mad scientist.
His teammates, with years of experience fighting evil together, under their belts, were quick to follow his lead.
The Zipper zoomed across the roof, dodging cowboys, horses and tendrils of time energy, and nudged Doctor 45 away from the portal.
The startled master of frequency, quickly took in his surroundings.
“Ah, sorry about the that,” He muttered.
Flex was stopped, mid-rush, by Doctor Doome creating a wall of slow time. His punches came to a halt six inches from the portly villain.
“Here, let me see what I can do to help,” Doctor 45 said, slipping on a pair of clunky headphones, and adjusting several of the gadgets on his belt. He clicked a button on one of the walkman cassette players and there was a staticy ‘zap!’ noise. The cowboys’ horses all blipped out of existence.
“Interesting,” He muttered. “I must have miscalculated the…”
“Don’t lecture!” The Zipper snapped. “Hit more buttons! Shut Dome down!”
“It’s Doome!” The mad scientist shouted, indignantly. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense!”
He jabbed viciously at a large red button on the large device…!
To no effect what so ever.
“What?!” Doome screeched, looking about. “It can’t…!”
He then spotted the Fact, standing nearby, holding the wire and plug from the time machine.
“Ah, got it!” Doctor 45 announced, adjusting a device strapped to his wrist.
The cowboys, all beaten senseless by the Atomic Pile, disappeared, and the time rift collapsed upon itself with an echoing pop!
The time wall dissolved and Flex’s next punch, caught the criminal time traveler on his chin and sent him stumbling backwards, arms flailing.
His progress was halted by a chimney. Doome struck it, then slid down, landing in a sitting position on the roof, surrounded by the heroes.
“Enough!” He growled, climbing, awkwardly to his feet and stabbing several buttons on his time device.
“Probably shouldn’t do that,” Doctor 45 advised. ‘Without the connection to the larger unit, it could…”
He was interrupted by the device sparking, smoking and then exploding, in its creator’s hand.
There was a flash of light, and while the heroes were left blinking, they all heard a loud roar.
“That probably isn’t good…!” The Zipper muttered.
“Not sure I want to open my eyes.” Romantic Rick added.
The six heroes did open their eyes and moved to the rooftops edge, just as the Tyrannosaurus Rex went stomping by.
“This day just keeps getting better, and better” The Zipper said, frowning.
“Doctor 45,” Flex said, thoughtfully. “You and Rick deal with Mr. Doome and his gadgets. The Pile can help you.
Zipper, you and Fact take crowd control.”
“What are you gonna do?” The Zipper asked.
“I’m going to go wrestle a dinosaur.” Flex said, with a wink and a nod, before leaping down to the street.
“Hog all the fun jobs,” The Atomic Pile grumbled, as he picked up Doctor Doome by the back of his coat.
Landing with a concrete-cracking thud, Flex found himself behind the massive creature.
With gestures, he directed some of the remaining pedestrians to safety.
By then the dinosaur was almost to the end of the block.
“Can’t have you wandering off, Rex,” Flex muttered, beginning to clench and release his muscles in a rhythmic way to activate his mystery muscle energy.
As he grabbed the T-Rex’s tail, Flex’s ‘Hero of the beach!’ halo appeared, glowing brightly, above his head.
Muscles trembling with the effort, he slowly dragged the massive creature back, and away from the fleeing crowd.
Its talons dug into the concrete, as it struggled and roared.
The Tyrannosaurus reared up, teeth grinding, its eyes filled with rage.
Flex let go of its tail, took a deep breath and focused all his mystery muscle energy into his hands. His muscles clenched and pulsated and beads of sweat broke out on his noble brow.
The T-Rex turned, and with a mighty roar, lunged at the manly hero.
Flex opened his eyes and ran to meet his opponent. As his fist swung, the energy emanating from it caused the very air molecules around it to tremble and move out of its way.
The dinosaur’s roar was cut short, as the blow caused its razor-sharp teeth to click violently shut. It was flung upwards, so that, for several seconds, its clawed feet didn’t touch the ground.
The force of the blow, coupled with the thud of it landing, sent a shockwave across the city, rattling windows, knocking things off of shelves and mantlepieces and sending numerous pets hiding under beds.
“Wow…!” The Fact breathed.
The Zipper glanced in surprise, that his teammate actually spoke, then returned his attention to the Tyrannosaurus sprawled across the street.
“What are we gonna do about that?” He asked.
“Man, that stings…!” Flex said, blowing on his knuckles and shaking out his hand, as he joined his friends.
The dinosaur began to glow and then vanished.
“Looks like the Doctor has it sorted.” Flex nodded.
Back on the roof, Doctor 45 was looking quite pleased with himself.
“You see,” He said, a smile struggling to escape his bushy, grey beard. “It’s all in the vibratory frequencies! No need for all that rubbish…”
He waved, dismissively, at Doome’s machine.
“A showy piece, with no solid vibratory theory behind it,”
“There’s gonna be no living with him,” The Atomic Pile grumbled good-naturedly.
“How dare you!” Doome screeched. “I am a genius! I am a visionary! I am…!”
“Growing very tiresome,” The Atomic Pile said, giving the rotund villain a shake and then a blow to the bald spot on the top of Doome’s head.
Doome slumped in the nuclear-powered man-beasts’ grip.
There was a sharp breeze and the Zipper rejoined his teammates.
“So, what are we going to do about him?”
Flex leapt from the street to the rooftop.
“Going to be tricky,” He mused, still nursing his sore knuckles. “Even without his gadgets, he seems a tricky customer. If we could construct a special jail cell…?”
Suddenly, a swirling disk of colored energy opened in the air, like the opening of a tunnel, and a figure floated out.
Clad in a black and yellow bodysuit, the figure had golden skin and spiked hair that crackled with energy.
Its opaque, pupil less eyes drifted over the eclectic crowd on the rooftop, halting when it reached the slumped form of Doctor Doome.
“Can we help you?” Flex asked, opting for a cautiously polite tone.
The rest of his team, took up defensive postures, in case this strange being had been summoned by their foe.
“You can call me Waverider,” The being said, his voice having the same, faint echoing quality as the Atomic Pile. “I safeguard the time stream and that guy…”
He pointed at the unconscious mad scientist.
“Has been messing with time in several timelines. If you don’t mind, I can take him off your hands.”
Flex glanced at his teammates. There was nothing menacing about Waverider. Nothing haughty or threatening in his tone. In fact, he seemed a polite fellow.
Doctor 45 glanced at one of his devices and then gave a brief nod. The rest of the team shrugged, leaving it up to him.
“Sure,” Flex said, after several minutes thought. “If you can keep him out of trouble, that would be appreciated.
Waverider nodded and pushed several buttons on a gauntlet on his wrist and both Doctor Doome and his various contraptions, including the shopping cart vanished.
“Thanks for dealing him,” Waverider said. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble he’s caused. You’re the third Earth I’ve had to travel to. The mess he caused on Earth X2…well, never mind, just know your efforts are appreciated.”
With a blip, he was gone and the portal he’d come from closed.
“Well, that was something…!” The Zipper muttered, scratching his head.
“So, we…won?” Romantic Rick asked, looking about.
“And apparently kept the time stream stable and on track,” Flex said, with a nod and a smile. “I think that calls for ice cream!”
Meanwhile, down the street…
“What’s going on over there?” Negative man asked.
“Flex is taking some kids out for ice cream,” Elastic woman replied, as they walked. “He’s keeping them entertained, while the rest of us try and figure out what to do next, after all the recent craziness.”
“Speaking of which…,” Larry Trainor said. “Here we are.”
The pair walked into a small appliance repair shop.
Inside, amongst the cluttered shelves, an older, bearded man sat at the counter, tinkering with a VCR.
Meanwhile, a large, metal man was lifting an old fashioned, linoleum kitchen table and placing it by the counter.
“Morning,” The bearded man said, absently.
“Hello. Oh, thank you, Robert,” Rita said, taking the chair, offered by the metal man.
“So, you’re probably wondering, why I’ve gathered you all here,” Larry said, sinking into a chair, across from Rita.
“Are you planning on revealing who the murder is?” Rita asked, with a tolerant smile.
“What?” Robert exclaimed, anxiously. “Reveal what…?”
“Relax, Robot man,” Larry said. “It’s a line from a movie…probably after your time. Have a seat.”
“Mind the mini-fridge,” The bearded man said, as the metal man pushed over a wooden packing crate, as none of the chairs or stools would have supported his weight.
“All right, first,” Rita said. “Thank you to everyone for coming and especially, Mr. Caulder, for letting us use his shop and all the help he’s given to…well, both of our Robot men.”
“Please, call me Niles.”
“As you are aware, it’s been a crazy couple of days,” Rita explained. “But things are settling down and I think Danny the street needs the Doom Patrol, and, for the moment, that’s us.”
“Um, I don’t know…?” Robot man muttered, scratching his steel chin in thought.
“I understand the resemblance is confusing,” Niles said, looking up from his tinkering. “But, I’m not ‘your’ Chief and I don’t think…”
“We get all that,” Larry interrupted, sitting up. “You’re not a mad scientist, we hope, and Robert is not ‘our’ Robot man.”
“Technically, I’m not actually the real Rita Farr,” Elastic Girl said.
“And I’m not one hundred present sure that…whatever I’ve got inside me is my original Negative man,” Larry said, quietly.
“We aren’t the original Doom Patrol,” Rita continued, after a concerned glance at Larry. “Or even any version that people know, but we look enough like the Doom Patrol, that people around Danny find it comforting, and maybe all we need to do, is learn how to act like the Doom Patrol….?”
“Fake it, until you make it?” Niles asked, with a bemused smile. “As the youngsters say.”
“I guess, I see what you mean,” Robot man said. “I’ve been on a team before, and when we started, we were practically strangers. What’s your plan?”
“Don’t look at me,” Larry said, gesturing towards Elastic Girl.
“It’s not really a plan,” Rita admitted. “But, I’m thinking, the four of us could get together, once a week maybe, talk about what’s happening on Danny, and see if there’s anything we could do to help.”
“I’ll bring coffee,” Larry said.”
“Robert has agreed to help us, and go on…missions, I guess you’d call them, if Danny lands in any more trouble spots.” Rita continued. “Maybe, Mister…uh…Niles, you could join us, occasionally, help promote a ‘team’ image…?”
“I suppose,” He muttered. “Don’t like leaving the shop, unattended, but if you think it’ll help. When would you want to do it?”
“No set time,” Rita said. “Whenever something comes up, we can decide…”
“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Drake, the local street sweeper said, ducking into the room. “But I think the gorilla and Papercut are in trouble!”
“No time like the present,” Larry said, standing up.
To be continued…
Author’s note:
One more of these odd, interlude stories and then back to some of the big plot lines.
Wanted to do something with Flex’s team (I made up the name, but all the heroes are very briefly mentioned in Grant Morrison’s run of Doom Patrol. I want to say issue numbers 37 and 42) for a while, and this seemed a good place for it.
Next issue, Mallah and Papercut get some time in the spotlight and we get to see the ‘new’ Doom Patrol in action!
After that, the search for the Brain begins and we’ll see what’s up with all the space ships that keep showing up!
Sunday afternoon: the sun is shining and nobody has attacked Danny the street for days.
So, Flex Mentallo, man of mystery muscle, gathered up a bunch of the local kids, helped them with their chores, taught them how to play foursquare and then took them out for ice cream.
They were scattered about, sitting in the grass, and on the curb, watching the squirrels, when Legion, the newsboy, wiped his face with his sleeve and said:
“Hey, Flex! You must have had bunches of adventures before coming here, right?”
“Oh, a fair amount,” Flex nodded, focusing on his chocolate/vanilla swirl soft-serve cone. “I like to stay busy.”
“Can you tell us about one?”
There was a murmur of interest among the crowd.
Flex looked around at the kids, saw their eager expressions and a smile played across his friendly, ruggedly clean-cut features.
“Sure. Now, on my Earth…number 32, or was it 16…?” He said, then shrugged his broad shoulders. “Anyway, on my Earth…”
“Wait, I thought you were just a comic book character brought to life by magic?” A kid asked, digging his cellphone out of his pocket. “I read on wickedpedia…”
“On your Earth…this Earth,” Flex explained. “People know me as a comic book hero. That helped build the link between my Earth and yours. On my Earth, I’m a real person…”
“And the Doom Patrol are all just comic book characters?” A girl with pigtails asked.
“Well, not all of them. On my Earth, there isn’t a Doom Patrol. Cliff Steele has his own comic, but he’s not a robot. He’s a race car driver that goes on adventures…”
“Like Speed Racer?”
“Yeah, I have no idea who that is,” Flex said. “And Miss Farr has a comic too. I think she solves mysteries and gives dating advice…”
“What about Mr. Trainor.”
“He doesn’t have one,” Flex replied, quietly. “But, let’s keep that to ourselves. It might hurt his feelings. Anyway, back on my Earth, I’m also on a hero team, we call ourselves, the Fastidious five…”
“What’s that mean? Fastidious…?”
“Good question, Racheal.” Flex said, nodding. “There are going to be some big words in this story. Make a note of any you don’t know and afterwards we’ll head over to the bookstore, and see if they have a dictionary we can borrow. So, anyway, my team had a tradition: after we stopped a villain or a monster, we went out for ice cream…”
The Fastidious Five’s headquarters was a three-storied brownstone, it took up nearly an entire city block.
The team was sitting around their meeting room, mostly gathered about the round meeting table, enjoying their victory and their ice cream.
Flex Mentallo had a fudge swirl cone.
Seated next to him was ‘The Fact’ (he doesn’t say, much, but he seems to know a little bit about everything.)
He wore a brown suit, gloves and fedora, a blue tie, and a purple mask, that had built in goggle eyepieces, and covered his entire head.
Across from the Fact, was Doctor 45 (named for the record, not the gun…do you kids even know what a record is? Anyway, he’s a brilliant scientist, the master of sonic studies.)
His orange popsicle was dripping, as he was more focused on the gadgets he was working on.
Doctor 45 was an older man, his grey hair swept back, and sporting a full beard. He had two turntables, one strapped to his chest and the other on his back, like they were armor. He wore a maroon suit and matching tie and gloves. He sported a pair of goggles, and a wide belt, made up of pouches. They seemed to hold numerous cassettes and a couple Walkmen.
Next to him, cautiously eating his lime popsicle, so he wouldn’t drip any on his suit, was Doctor 45’s sidekick, Romantic Rick. (He didn’t have any super powers, but was a sharp dresser and a bit of a ladies man…Grant, you can ask your parents what that means, while you’re asking them what a turntable and a cassette is)
Rick was younger, taller and slimmer than his mentor. His brown hair was spiked. His wide-lapeled suit was light brown, though he would have told you it was ‘cafe au lait’.
Slumped on the nearby sofa, was the Atomic Pile (half man, half plant, half nuclear reactor, with a sense of humor to match.)
His body resembled a moss-covered gorilla, while his head was a swirling orb of atomic energy.
He had a box of ice cream sandwiches, which were inserted into his energy cranium, wrapper and all.
Pacing the room was the Zipper (his magic whistle gave him super speed…don’t look at me like that, Kieth, you heard me right)
He had windswept blond hair and a maroon suit.
“So, what next?” He asked, zooming about the room, pausing to straighten an item on a shelf or scoop up a discarded wrapper.
“We get to relax,” Rick said, stretching his legs. “Try standing still. You might like it.”
The Zipper scowled as he whooshed by the stylish sidekick.
(What’s that, Arnold? Yes, there are six of us in the Fastidious 5. You don’t count sidekicks. It sounds a bit mean, but that’s the rule.)
“Don’t fight, fellows,” Flex said. “Something will come up. It always does. Myself, I’m hoping for a quiet afternoon.”
The Atomic Pile hopped up on the back of the sofa and peered out the window.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Flex,” He said, in his odd, echoey voice, as he gestured his teammates over.
“Hmmm…what?” Doctor 45 asked, looking up from tinkering, when he noticed everyone else was crowded around the window. “Something up?”
“Looks like a bunch of Roman centurions are robbing the diamond exchange,” Flex said, still holding his cone.
“Meet you guys down there…!” The Zipper said.
“Showoff,” Romantic Rick muttered, repairing his mussed-up hair, from the speedsters’ exit.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” The Atomic pile said, altering his atomic structure till he was intangible and could pass, ghost-like through the wall and then began climbing down the side of the building.
“Doesn’t anyone use the elevator anymore?” Doctor 45 asked, hurriedly gathering up his gadgets. “Give me a hand, Richard.”
“We’re going to miss all the excitement,” Romantic Rick grumbled.
Meanwhile, down on the street, there actually were a dozen Roman centurions running away from the diamond exchange, carrying bags of diamonds.
The surrounding bystanders had mixed reactions. Half stood around, convinced it was a stunt promotion for some new movie. The other half was running away like crazy.
The Zipper skidded to a halt, his special steel enforced, diamond-soled sneakers raised sparks on the concrete.
“Stop where you are!” The Zipper said, in a commanding tone, fists on his hips. “Put the loot and those spears and swords down on the ground!”
“In an orderly manner,” Flex Mentallo said, landing, after leaping from the 5’s HQ “I know you gentlemen are angry, but no throwing things on the ground.”
The Roman soldiers stopped, starring, open-mouthed.
They then all lined up, struck the butts of their spears against the street and shouted, defiantly, back at the heroes.
“What?” The Zipper asked, puzzled. “I don’t understand them…?”
The Fact, suddenly appearing at the speedsters’ side, held out an index card. Scrawled on it, in green marker, was the sentence ‘Citizens of ancient Rome spoke Latin’.
“That’s what I thought,” Flex nodded, stroking his manly chin, thoughtfully. “Course, I took French in high school. Anyone on the team speak Latin?”
The Atomic Pile leapt from the brownstone to the street, startling the Roman soldiers, as he took in the situation.
“That sounds like real, conversational Latin,” He muttered.
At the sight of the strange man-creature, the front line of centurions charged.
The Atomic pile dodged the first spear, then grabbed it, and swung it, Roman Centurion and all, like a club, to knock down the next two.
Flex Mentallo struck a pose, flexed his mighty biceps, summoning his “Hero of the Beach!” energy aura, which forced the front line of soldiers back.
The Zipper raced around the block, blowing on his magic whistle, coming up behind the centurions and tapped one of the ones carrying the loot on the shoulder.
“That doesn’t belong to you,” He explained. “So, if you just put it down, you could avoid the walloping your friends are getting.”
The reply was in latin, and was accompanied by a sword slash, the speedster easily dodged.
“I’m going to guess that’s a no’,” He muttered, running circles, literally around the soldier until he and his sack of diamonds collapsed into a heap on the pavement.
Two of his comrades turned, swords out, to help the dizzy centurion.
The Zipper was a blur, dodging a pair of swords. This left him too distracted to notice the Roman soldier sneaking up behind him, until he struck the sharp-dressed speedster with his bag of diamonds.
The Zipper fell to his knees. He would have dropped his speed whistle if it hadn’t been attached to a chain around his neck.
He blinked and shook his head, aware enough to realize he was in trouble.
Before any of the other centurions could attack, the Fact and Atomic Pile were by his side, fending off the Romans.
Suddenly, a glowing disk appeared overhead. It was made of energy, yet felt like a solid object. Dozens of beams shot out from it. Each beam struck a centurion, and then they, and the diamonds, disappeared.
The disk blipped out of existence, leaving the confused heroes and numerous bystanders, standing in the street.
“What happened?” Romantic Rick exclaimed, as he and Dr 45 joined them. “They’re gone!”
His teammates shrugged in reply.
Rick stomped his foot in exasperation, while his grey-bearded mentor absently consulted various gadgets from his belt and pockets.
The rest of the team gathered around the late arrivals and attempted to make sense of the bizarre robbery.
Their impromptu conference was interrupted by a police officer running up them.
“Hey!” He shouted. “You guys! We need your help!”
“Still…?” Flex asked.
“Again?” The Zipper said.
“There’s a bunch of confederate soldiers, robbing the Bank on Case Street!”
And, so the rest of the day went…
After the bank robbing civil war soldiers, a gang of Vikings attacked the warehouse of a major fur dealer, then some cavemen rampaged through the stock exchange.
By late that afternoon, the Fastidious 5 were back in the brownstone HQ, but looking a bit more bedraggled and frustrated then when they’d started the day.
Dr 45 and the Fact were both hard at work, trying to figure things out. The Doctor was back at the meeting table, surrounded by even more gadgets, numerous slips of scribbled on paper and an assortment of half-drunk cups of tea.
The Fact was sitting, Indian style, on the coffee table, pondering and meditating.
The Zipper was sprawled on the sofa, having kicked off his shoes and fanning himself with a hand.
Rick, when not fetching cups of tea and equipment for his mentor, was dusting off his suit and fixing his hair.
The Atomic Pile was squatting on a chair, intently studying Dr. 45’s progress.
Flex Mentallo, not being scientifically minded, had made himself a sandwich.
“I don’t get it,” The Zipper grumbled. “If you have the ability to teleport your gang away, why the crazy costumes…?”
“And why so many gangs?” Flex asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “It wasn’t the same gang in disguise. Whoever is behind this must have an army!”
“An army he can teleport anywhere in the city…!” The Atomic Pile mused, thoughtfully rubbing the place where its chin would be, if it had had a face.
“Ahem, pardon me.”
Everyone looked over at Doctor 45.
He was a quiet man, nowhere near as flashy or dramatic as his teammates. He always seemed quite content to stay in the background, puttering with his various sonic interests and helping in investigations. You would think he’d be lost in the shuffle, a doddering, older man, amongst these bold, colorful heroes, but when he had something to say, his teammates all took him quite seriously.
“The miscreants are not teleporting.” He explained, in a quiet, lecturer’s tone. “As you know, my expertise with sound, is based on the study of vibrations, but all forms of energy generate a vibrational frequency. I have quite an extensive collection of vibratory designations…”
“The point, Doctor,” Romantic Rick said, handing him a cup of tea.
“Ah, yes…anyway, I’ve identified the vibrations our recent foes have been using and it’s not at all similar to ones generated by matter teleportation…”
“Then how…?” The Zipper asked, sitting up.
“The energy vibration is temporal,” Doctor 45 explained, nodding, and taking a sip of tea.
“Sorry, I was an English major,” Flex Mentallo said, looking around, confused.
“It’s time travel.” The Atomic Pile intoned, thoughtfully.
“So, they weren’t thugs in disguise…?” The Zipper exclaimed.
“We actually fought a bunch of Roman soldiers and cavemen?!” Flex muttered. “Well, that’s actually kind of neat.”
“Can you trace the temporal vibrations?” The Atomic Pile asked, leaning forward and reaching with one of his long arms to pick up a gadget and study it.
“Oh yes,” Doctor 45 nodded, eager to have someone to discuss his theories with. “The frequencies are quite distinct…here, let me show you…!”
He grabbed a napkin and began happily scribbling equations.
While Romantic Rick stood behind the Doctor’s chair, struggling to follow the scientific consultation going on, the Fact stood up and walked over to Flex Mentallo and placed one of his cards on the table.
As Flex was reaching for it, the Zipper whooshed over and grabbed it first.
“What’s this?” He asked.
“Looks like,” Flex said, standing up and reading over the speedsters’ shoulder. “A list of potential targets by…whoever is behind this ruckus.”
“Who is behind this?” Rick asked, from over by the table. “Do we have any idea?”
“Doesn’t sound like anyone we’ve met before,” Flex shrugged.
“We’ve met time travelers before,” The Zipper said.
“Traci Tempus was just a troublemaker,” Flex said. “This is an organized campaign. This is someone up to something…?”
“We need more information.” The Atomic Pile said, in his strange, echoey voice.
Most of the team looked towards the scientists in the group, while Flex glanced over at the Fact.
The quiet, masked mystery man nodded in reply, then adjusted his tie, as he slipped out of the meeting room. He then gave Doctor 45 the fact card, to help in his planning.
The team split up, Flex, the Atomic Pile and the Zipper each checking out a location on the Fact’s card, while Doctor 45 and Romantic Rick drove around in the Doctor’s Tunebuggy, trying to trace the time vibrations.
Flex Mentallo knew there was no point in trying to be inconspicuous, it never seemed to work for him. So, he strolled about the financial distract, nodding to the passing stockbrokers and secretaries.
“Afternoon,” He said, with a friendly smile. “Don’t suppose any of you have seen anything…well, unusual, as you’re going about your business?”
“Uh…like what?” A man in a grey suit asked, adjusting his glasses.
“Um…a group of unruly conquistadors…?” He replied, unsure.
“You mean like that bunch of musketeers?” A secretary asked, pointing down the street.
“I’m going to have ask you hardworking folks to cut your lunch hours short and get off the street,” Flex announced, cracking his knuckles, as he jogged towards the band of French Musketeers that had just appeared on the busy city street.
Dodging the half dozen rapiers, Flex Mentallo moved through the crowd of musketeers with a grace and skill that would have made any professional dancer or boxer envious.
In between dodging, Flex found the time for a quick jab and the occasional uppercut and soon had gone from six to one lone, anxious musketeer.
“Hey,” Flex said, in a gentle, friendly tone. “Do you think we could just talk this over?”
The musketeer shouted something in French and lunged forward.
“I took French in school,” Flex explained, apologetically, right before his fist collided with the musketeer’s chin. “But, only got a C+. You’re going to have to talk slower.”
Flex was gathering the Musketeers up, into a pile, when the Zipper skidded to a halt. “Sorry,” He said. “Got distracted by a bunch of Aztec warriors…”
He paused to count the musketeers.
“I had to deal with eight of them.”
“It’s not a contest,” Flex muttered, dusting off his palms. “Any word from the Doctor or…?”
He looked up, as a card came drifting down on the breeze.
Flex caught it, before it hit the ground.
“The Fact?” Zipper asked.
Flex nodded.
“That’s kinda creepy, how he does that.” The Zipper frowned, looking around.
Flex nodded absently, too focused on the fact card. He then handed it to his teammate.
“Meet you there!” He announced, taking a running leap at the nearest building and using the power of his mystery muscle-enhanced leg muscles to propel himself to the roof.
The Zipper straightened his lapels, brushed back his hair and placing his magic whistle between his lips took off.
Down at the docks, the Atomic Pile swung along the telephone lines, like a monkey. He then leapt, swung on a flagpole and landed on a rooftop.
The man-monster surveyed the neighborhood, peering all about him, as well as all across the light and frequency spectrum, looking for anything suspicious.
“I know this is the waterfront,” He muttered to himself, but I don’t think those pirates belong here.”
He leapt down to the street, landing like an angry, and slightly radioactive, silverback gorilla.
“No further,” He growled, clenching his large fists, causing sparks.
The dozen or so pirates skidded to a halt, intimidated by the bizarre mix of man, animal and nuclear reactor.
But they were hard, seafaring men, so soon mustered their courage and the Atomic Pile then found a variety of swords, knives and flintlock pistols pointed at him.
“Hnnn,” He muttered, frowning ( not that you could tell with his strange energy sphere of a head), as he slowly turned. He flexed his broad hands, staying in a low, defensive crouch.
As he turned, the Atomic Pile spotted Flex Mentallo and the Fact standing behind the ring of pirates.
They seemed more interested in the pirates, then concerned for their teammates’ safety.
“Huh, pirates,” Flex mused, uncrossing his manly arms. “Don’t think we’ve fought pirates before…”
The Fact handed him a card. Flex glanced at it, and frowned.
“They don’t count,” He told his mysterious friend. “They were mermaids that were hijacking ships, not pirates…we can debate it later.”
He cracked his knuckles and charged the, now rather confused, circle of pirates. At the same time, from within the circle, the Atomic Pile also charged them.
By the time the Zipper and Doctor 45’s car arrived, the two were tossing buccaneers around, pausing to occasionally add an unconscious pirate to one of two piles, as a way of keeping score, as to who had defeated the most.
“Who’s winning?” The Zipper asked, before noticing the Doctor and the Fact had wandered off, and only Romantic Rick was still around.
The dapper sidekick shrugged, and looked over and began counting.
“…Five, six…that pile, by the parked car. Whose is that one?”
“I just got here!” The Zipper replied, exasperated.
“Oh, then I,…where did the Doctor go?” Rick asked, worriedly looking around, before running off.
“What’s going on?” Flex asked, throwing the last pirate on his pile, and dusting off his hands.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” The Zipper grumbled. “The Fact’s gone and Rick’s got his hair in a knot because Doctor 45’s wandered off!”
“That building, over there, might be a good place to look.” The Atomic Pile intoned, pointing.
“The weird glow does seem suspicious,” Flex nodded.
He then reached out one mighty arm and grabbed hold of the back of the Zipper’s jacket, just as the well-dressed speedster was about to race off.
“Let’s stick together this time,” The man of mystery muscle suggested.
The trio raced up the stairs, to the roof, where they joined their teammates in facing a strange figure.
The man was quite round, and not terribly tall. His blue suit had last been fashionable in the 40’s.
He sported a bowl-cut, flecked with grey, and a dire scowl.
Next to him was a grocery cart, loaded down with an eclectic assortment of scientific paraphernalia. It looked like a mix between a water heater, a Christmas tree and an octopus.
“Who is that?” The Zipper asked, pointing.
“If my instruments are correct,” Doctor 45 said. “He’s the one behind the time-displaced foes we’ve been dealing with. He claims to be a doctor as well.”
“I am!” The overweight scientist exclaimed. “I am Doctor Doome!”
“Doctor Dome…?” Rick muttered.
“Sounded more like Doctor Dumb to me,” The Zipper smirked.
“I will not be mocked!” The villain shouted, shrilly. “It’s Doome, Doctor Doome! As in ‘I am your doom!”
“Excitable fellow, isn’t he?” Flex remarked. “Don’t mean to sound rude, but what’s your story? Why all the shenanigans?”
“Shenanigans…!” Doctor Doome sputtered. “I have mastered time itself!”
“And you’re using your mastery of time to rob banks?” The Zipper asked.
“Yes…well, it’s expensive to maintain a time displacer…I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you!”
“Whoa there,” Flex admonished. “ ‘Likes of you’…? That sounds faintly racist. That kind of language does nobody any good.”
“Why am I always plagued by you costumed dolts!” Doctor Doome fumed. “I was on my way to power and riches, when a group…dressed almost as ridiculously as you fools, interfered and I found myself flung across the multi-verse to this world!”*
(* seriously, this isn’t Doctor Doome’s first appearance. Check out All Star Squadron #29 to get a better idea of what he’s ranting about- Trav)
“I would have been content to rule this earth, but then I discovered it too had costumed heroes!” Doome continued.
“Instead I have been…acquiring the funds I need to rebuild my cross-time portal and relocate to a world free of your ilk!”
“Okay, I let you off easy on ‘likes of you’,” Flex said, stepping forward and cracking his knuckles. “But ‘ilk’? That kind of language is going to lead to rough stuff.”
As the muscular hero approached him, Doctor Doome reached into his coat and came out with a device that resembled a stubby, metal flashlight.
“Back!” He commanded. “I’ll have none of you cretinous muscle heads laying your hands upon me!”
He flicked a switch and an oval-shaped opening appeared in the air and a half dozen cowboys on horseback came galloping out.
“Well, this is just getting monotonous,” Flex Mentallo grumbled.
“Hey, he’s monkeying with the big gadget!” Romantic Rick shouted, pointing emphatically at Doctor Doome.
“I’ll handle the buckaroos,” The Atomic pile said.
He flung himself at the cowboys, like an angry gorilla, his head sparking like a bug zapper.
“Should we help him?” The Zipper asked.
“You want to tell him you don’t think he can handle six or seven heavily armed rustlers?” Flex asked back.
“We’ve got to help the Doctor!” Romantic Rick interrupted.
The heroes looked where the dapper sidekick was pointing.
Doctor 45, more intent on monitoring and cataloguing the exotic energy vibrations, was absent-mindedly strolling about the roof and in danger of walking into the open time portal.
“Let’s wrap this up,” Flex said, clenching his fists, while running at the mad scientist.
His teammates, with years of experience fighting evil together, under their belts, were quick to follow his lead.
The Zipper zoomed across the roof, dodging cowboys, horses and tendrils of time energy, and nudged Doctor 45 away from the portal.
The startled master of frequency, quickly took in his surroundings.
“Ah, sorry about the that,” He muttered.
Flex was stopped, mid-rush, by Doctor Doome creating a wall of slow time. His punches came to a halt six inches from the portly villain.
“Here, let me see what I can do to help,” Doctor 45 said, slipping on a pair of clunky headphones, and adjusting several of the gadgets on his belt. He clicked a button on one of the walkman cassette players and there was a staticy ‘zap!’ noise. The cowboys’ horses all blipped out of existence.
“Interesting,” He muttered. “I must have miscalculated the…”
“Don’t lecture!” The Zipper snapped. “Hit more buttons! Shut Dome down!”
“It’s Doome!” The mad scientist shouted, indignantly. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense!”
He jabbed viciously at a large red button on the large device…!
To no effect what so ever.
“What?!” Doome screeched, looking about. “It can’t…!”
He then spotted the Fact, standing nearby, holding the wire and plug from the time machine.
“Ah, got it!” Doctor 45 announced, adjusting a device strapped to his wrist.
The cowboys, all beaten senseless by the Atomic Pile, disappeared, and the time rift collapsed upon itself with an echoing pop!
The time wall dissolved and Flex’s next punch, caught the criminal time traveler on his chin and sent him stumbling backwards, arms flailing.
His progress was halted by a chimney. Doome struck it, then slid down, landing in a sitting position on the roof, surrounded by the heroes.
“Enough!” He growled, climbing, awkwardly to his feet and stabbing several buttons on his time device.
“Probably shouldn’t do that,” Doctor 45 advised. ‘Without the connection to the larger unit, it could…”
He was interrupted by the device sparking, smoking and then exploding, in its creator’s hand.
There was a flash of light, and while the heroes were left blinking, they all heard a loud roar.
“That probably isn’t good…!” The Zipper muttered.
“Not sure I want to open my eyes.” Romantic Rick added.
The six heroes did open their eyes and moved to the rooftops edge, just as the Tyrannosaurus Rex went stomping by.
“This day just keeps getting better, and better” The Zipper said, frowning.
“Doctor 45,” Flex said, thoughtfully. “You and Rick deal with Mr. Doome and his gadgets. The Pile can help you.
Zipper, you and Fact take crowd control.”
“What are you gonna do?” The Zipper asked.
“I’m going to go wrestle a dinosaur.” Flex said, with a wink and a nod, before leaping down to the street.
“Hog all the fun jobs,” The Atomic Pile grumbled, as he picked up Doctor Doome by the back of his coat.
Landing with a concrete-cracking thud, Flex found himself behind the massive creature.
With gestures, he directed some of the remaining pedestrians to safety.
By then the dinosaur was almost to the end of the block.
“Can’t have you wandering off, Rex,” Flex muttered, beginning to clench and release his muscles in a rhythmic way to activate his mystery muscle energy.
As he grabbed the T-Rex’s tail, Flex’s ‘Hero of the beach!’ halo appeared, glowing brightly, above his head.
Muscles trembling with the effort, he slowly dragged the massive creature back, and away from the fleeing crowd.
Its talons dug into the concrete, as it struggled and roared.
The Tyrannosaurus reared up, teeth grinding, its eyes filled with rage.
Flex let go of its tail, took a deep breath and focused all his mystery muscle energy into his hands. His muscles clenched and pulsated and beads of sweat broke out on his noble brow.
The T-Rex turned, and with a mighty roar, lunged at the manly hero.
Flex opened his eyes and ran to meet his opponent. As his fist swung, the energy emanating from it caused the very air molecules around it to tremble and move out of its way.
The dinosaur’s roar was cut short, as the blow caused its razor-sharp teeth to click violently shut. It was flung upwards, so that, for several seconds, its clawed feet didn’t touch the ground.
The force of the blow, coupled with the thud of it landing, sent a shockwave across the city, rattling windows, knocking things off of shelves and mantlepieces and sending numerous pets hiding under beds.
“Wow…!” The Fact breathed.
The Zipper glanced in surprise, that his teammate actually spoke, then returned his attention to the Tyrannosaurus sprawled across the street.
“What are we gonna do about that?” He asked.
“Man, that stings…!” Flex said, blowing on his knuckles and shaking out his hand, as he joined his friends.
The dinosaur began to glow and then vanished.
“Looks like the Doctor has it sorted.” Flex nodded.
Back on the roof, Doctor 45 was looking quite pleased with himself.
“You see,” He said, a smile struggling to escape his bushy, grey beard. “It’s all in the vibratory frequencies! No need for all that rubbish…”
He waved, dismissively, at Doome’s machine.
“A showy piece, with no solid vibratory theory behind it,”
“There’s gonna be no living with him,” The Atomic Pile grumbled good-naturedly.
“How dare you!” Doome screeched. “I am a genius! I am a visionary! I am…!”
“Growing very tiresome,” The Atomic Pile said, giving the rotund villain a shake and then a blow to the bald spot on the top of Doome’s head.
Doome slumped in the nuclear-powered man-beasts’ grip.
There was a sharp breeze and the Zipper rejoined his teammates.
“So, what are we going to do about him?”
Flex leapt from the street to the rooftop.
“Going to be tricky,” He mused, still nursing his sore knuckles. “Even without his gadgets, he seems a tricky customer. If we could construct a special jail cell…?”
Suddenly, a swirling disk of colored energy opened in the air, like the opening of a tunnel, and a figure floated out.
Clad in a black and yellow bodysuit, the figure had golden skin and spiked hair that crackled with energy.
Its opaque, pupil less eyes drifted over the eclectic crowd on the rooftop, halting when it reached the slumped form of Doctor Doome.
“Can we help you?” Flex asked, opting for a cautiously polite tone.
The rest of his team, took up defensive postures, in case this strange being had been summoned by their foe.
“You can call me Waverider,” The being said, his voice having the same, faint echoing quality as the Atomic Pile. “I safeguard the time stream and that guy…”
He pointed at the unconscious mad scientist.
“Has been messing with time in several timelines. If you don’t mind, I can take him off your hands.”
Flex glanced at his teammates. There was nothing menacing about Waverider. Nothing haughty or threatening in his tone. In fact, he seemed a polite fellow.
Doctor 45 glanced at one of his devices and then gave a brief nod. The rest of the team shrugged, leaving it up to him.
“Sure,” Flex said, after several minutes thought. “If you can keep him out of trouble, that would be appreciated.
Waverider nodded and pushed several buttons on a gauntlet on his wrist and both Doctor Doome and his various contraptions, including the shopping cart vanished.
“Thanks for dealing him,” Waverider said. “You wouldn’t believe the trouble he’s caused. You’re the third Earth I’ve had to travel to. The mess he caused on Earth X2…well, never mind, just know your efforts are appreciated.”
With a blip, he was gone and the portal he’d come from closed.
“Well, that was something…!” The Zipper muttered, scratching his head.
“So, we…won?” Romantic Rick asked, looking about.
“And apparently kept the time stream stable and on track,” Flex said, with a nod and a smile. “I think that calls for ice cream!”
Meanwhile, down the street…
“What’s going on over there?” Negative man asked.
“Flex is taking some kids out for ice cream,” Elastic woman replied, as they walked. “He’s keeping them entertained, while the rest of us try and figure out what to do next, after all the recent craziness.”
“Speaking of which…,” Larry Trainor said. “Here we are.”
The pair walked into a small appliance repair shop.
Inside, amongst the cluttered shelves, an older, bearded man sat at the counter, tinkering with a VCR.
Meanwhile, a large, metal man was lifting an old fashioned, linoleum kitchen table and placing it by the counter.
“Morning,” The bearded man said, absently.
“Hello. Oh, thank you, Robert,” Rita said, taking the chair, offered by the metal man.
“So, you’re probably wondering, why I’ve gathered you all here,” Larry said, sinking into a chair, across from Rita.
“Are you planning on revealing who the murder is?” Rita asked, with a tolerant smile.
“What?” Robert exclaimed, anxiously. “Reveal what…?”
“Relax, Robot man,” Larry said. “It’s a line from a movie…probably after your time. Have a seat.”
“Mind the mini-fridge,” The bearded man said, as the metal man pushed over a wooden packing crate, as none of the chairs or stools would have supported his weight.
“All right, first,” Rita said. “Thank you to everyone for coming and especially, Mr. Caulder, for letting us use his shop and all the help he’s given to…well, both of our Robot men.”
“Please, call me Niles.”
“As you are aware, it’s been a crazy couple of days,” Rita explained. “But things are settling down and I think Danny the street needs the Doom Patrol, and, for the moment, that’s us.”
“Um, I don’t know…?” Robot man muttered, scratching his steel chin in thought.
“I understand the resemblance is confusing,” Niles said, looking up from his tinkering. “But, I’m not ‘your’ Chief and I don’t think…”
“We get all that,” Larry interrupted, sitting up. “You’re not a mad scientist, we hope, and Robert is not ‘our’ Robot man.”
“Technically, I’m not actually the real Rita Farr,” Elastic Girl said.
“And I’m not one hundred present sure that…whatever I’ve got inside me is my original Negative man,” Larry said, quietly.
“We aren’t the original Doom Patrol,” Rita continued, after a concerned glance at Larry. “Or even any version that people know, but we look enough like the Doom Patrol, that people around Danny find it comforting, and maybe all we need to do, is learn how to act like the Doom Patrol….?”
“Fake it, until you make it?” Niles asked, with a bemused smile. “As the youngsters say.”
“I guess, I see what you mean,” Robot man said. “I’ve been on a team before, and when we started, we were practically strangers. What’s your plan?”
“Don’t look at me,” Larry said, gesturing towards Elastic Girl.
“It’s not really a plan,” Rita admitted. “But, I’m thinking, the four of us could get together, once a week maybe, talk about what’s happening on Danny, and see if there’s anything we could do to help.”
“I’ll bring coffee,” Larry said.”
“Robert has agreed to help us, and go on…missions, I guess you’d call them, if Danny lands in any more trouble spots.” Rita continued. “Maybe, Mister…uh…Niles, you could join us, occasionally, help promote a ‘team’ image…?”
“I suppose,” He muttered. “Don’t like leaving the shop, unattended, but if you think it’ll help. When would you want to do it?”
“No set time,” Rita said. “Whenever something comes up, we can decide…”
“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt,” Drake, the local street sweeper said, ducking into the room. “But I think the gorilla and Papercut are in trouble!”
“No time like the present,” Larry said, standing up.
To be continued…
Author’s note:
One more of these odd, interlude stories and then back to some of the big plot lines.
Wanted to do something with Flex’s team (I made up the name, but all the heroes are very briefly mentioned in Grant Morrison’s run of Doom Patrol. I want to say issue numbers 37 and 42) for a while, and this seemed a good place for it.
Next issue, Mallah and Papercut get some time in the spotlight and we get to see the ‘new’ Doom Patrol in action!
After that, the search for the Brain begins and we’ll see what’s up with all the space ships that keep showing up!