Later
Larry Trainor rolled over and gripped the edge of his bed, breathing heavily and hoping for the sweet release of death.
“Uggghhh…why did I think it was a good idea to drink something called a ‘hand grenade’…?” He moaned, blinking in the morning light, wincing after every blink until he was able to keep his eyes open.
Larry managed to haul himself upright and sat back against the headboard.
He was still wearing his Doom Patrol uniform over his bandage-wrapped body, except he was only wearing one boot, a Hawaiian shirt and his right hand was smudged with the kind of ink stamps they give you when you go to a bar.
Gingerly shaking his aching head, Larry glanced over and noticed the severed robotic head of his teammate Cliff Steele on his bedside table.
It was wearing a paper crown and a pair of sunglasses with one lens missing.
“That’s right, I took you to that jazz club…” Larry muttered, looking around for his other boot. “Hoped it’d…wake you up…or something…well, looks like you had a good time…hope the girls got home okay…”
# # # # #
Earlier
The French Quarter, New Orleans
At just past noon, the dedicated drinkers from the previous night were moving past the late risers looking for coffee and those getting an early start on tonight’s partying, as well as a swirl of tourists who came to take in the sights, both historical and the antics of their fellow revelers.
Eager picture takers, middle-aged women traveling from quaint shop to quaint shop, while their weary husbands were in the bars next store, checking out the scantily dressed young female partiers and performers over the rim of their beers and reckless spring breakers formed an endless parade.
Every corner had a street performer, either a musician, magician, mime, juggler or unpublished poet.
Seated around a tiny, round table, enjoying beignets and bitter coffee, as well as the free entertainment, were three women.
In any other city, they would have attracted attention, here they were just part of the mad, eccentric crowd, earning no more than the occasional glance.
A tall brunette, with a movie star face and figure wore a red mini-dress and purple boots. She sat next to a slightly masculine looking woman with lank, shoulder -length sandy blonde hair, clad in jeans, a denim jacket and a maroon “I’m not a lesbian, but my girlfriend is” t-shirt.
Next to her the most unusual of the trio; from the neck down she had the body and wardrobe of an exotic dancing girl. From the neck up she had the head of a cat.
They were the female members of Doom Patrol: Rita Farr (or possibly her clone, it’s confusing) the famed movie actress turned super heroine, Elastic Girl.
Kate Godwin, transgender barista turned super heroine, Coagula and the alien explorer and one-time goddess who was now trying to figure out where she fit into all this, Bast.
“I gotta admit,” Kate said. “I’ve been concerned about Danny lately, but this was a pretty good choice and no sign of marauding aliens or monsters…um…no offense.”
“None taken,” Bast murmured between sips of her heavy on the cream latte. “I did not make the best first impression.”*
(See Doom Patrol #1)
“I wonder where the others wandered off to?” Rita asked, frowning thoughtfully.
“Mallah stayed back in the square,” Kate said. “I think he’s taking on all challengers at chess. Probably keep him out of trouble...”
“Larry worries about Mallah,” Rita mused, absently stirring her coffee. “He’s convinced the minute Mallah finds the Brain, he’s going to…build a death ray or something…”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know,” She continued. “He seems as lost as the rest of us and maybe we’re helping.”
“All we can do is wait and see and hope,” Kate added. She sipped her coffee, frowned sadly at the empty cup and set it down. “We’ll have plenty of time to worry about everybody’s issues back on Danny, but look at where we are…!”
The three women looked away from their snacks and at their surroundings: There were an army of tourists and street performers in every shape, size, age and attire.
On one corner a woman in a floor length black evening gown was playing the violin. A living statue actor was dressed like a figure off a playing card, occasionally moving to startle passers bys. Across the street, an obviously inebriated man, dressed like a pirate staggered past, singing lustily, if inarticulately to any pretty female that crossed his path, while another man was attempting to impress two college girls with the extensive collection of tattoos covering his arms.
“Your planet is an interesting place,” Bast said, smiling at a young couple that had stopped to admire her ‘costume’ and asked to take a picture.
“You can’t really judge the rest of the world by New Orleans,” Kate laughed.
“I was here once before,” Rita said, looking around. “I was dating Dan Cassidy. He was doing effects for the first ‘House of Secrets’ movie…and…um…sorry, my drifty memory…what were you saying, Bast?”
“I was just admiring how far your people have advanced, while also being amused at things that have stayed the same,” The cat-woman said.
“You know,” Kate said, standing up and fishing some money to pay the bill from her jeans pocket. “For someone who came here to impersonate a deity and conquer the planet, you are remarkably mellow.”
“I was not as conquest-minded as my fellows,” Bast said, standing and stretching. “I merely wished to explore. Which is why I have been in no hurry to seek to return to my home world. It does not sound as though they have lost that tendency.”
“Unfortunately, that’s most likely true,” Rita nodded, drawing her attention away from the street musicians. “Larry didn’t get much chance to talk to Hawkman…something came up*…but, the impression he got was the Sidhe are all off Earth and not really welcome to return.”
(* See the Hawkman mini-series to find out why he’s too busy to chat)
“So, getting you home gets tricky,” Kate muttered. “Anyone else craving a po’boy?”
“I do not know how welcome I would even be on my world,” Bast said, wistfully. “Sounds as though little has changed while I slept…”
“Well, I don’t think you can go back to your old job of ‘goddess’ either,” Rita shrugged. She stood up and accidently grew another foot taller. Due to where they were, it only attracted mild curiosity.
Bast shrugged and gave a tiny, brief smile.
“Most likely.” She murmured in reply. “This age seems to have little use for gods, despite the fact that a great many of them seem to be walking this world. That leaves me with ‘explorer’ as a vocation.”
“You’ve fallen in with the right group,” Kate said, absently, as she scouted around for a place to eat.
“True,” Rita said. “We could really use someone to help us with science and things…our current ‘science expert’ is more concerned with fixing toasters.”
“Come on,” Kate said, hooking her arms through the arms of her teammates. “We get back to Danny and we can ponder the future and think deep thoughts. We’re in New Orleans! Time to eat too much, drink too much and listen to great music…who knows, there might even be a little romance…if I’m really lucky…!”
She steered the other two women away from the little café and towards a crowded, raucous bar that advertized cheap beer and homemade shrimp po’boys, unaware of the interest they had attracted from certain members of the crowd. The living statue dressed as a playing card intently watched their progress…
# # # # #
Several blocks away, in a large square with a center section enclosed by a short wrought iron fence, dozens of little tables were set up where you could have your fortune told, listen to music from rock to classical, watch a juggler, a painter, a poet, sign up for a tour of the city or play chess with a gorilla.
Mallah was perched upon a stool, slightly taller than the small table his chessboard was set up on. Next to it was a beer mug half full of coins and crumpled bills.
He’d faced numerous opponents across the chessboard: inebriated college boys, assorted tourists, a few of the other street performers and several homeless inhabitants of the area and bested them all.
Most of the other players had been distracted, either by the amount of alcohol they’d consumed or by admiring what they believed to be Mallah’s gorilla costume.
A middle aged dwarf, in a well-tailored suit, and sporting a cane, seated himself across from the primate chess prodigy and dropped a foreign coin in the mug with a heavy ‘clink’.
“Mousier Giacomo,” Mallah nodded in greeting.
“Signor Mallah,” The dwarf replied, moving a pawn. “I understand you are seeking a mutual acquaintance of ours.”
Mallah nodded and moved a piece.
The conversation continued in this manner, with both players seeming only to be half paying attention to what the other was saying, focused more on the game.
Giacomo was a criminal mastermind in his own right, who had served as a sort of major domo to the Doom Patrol’s arch-foe, the Brain, content to arrange details and help behind the scenes.
He had gone into hiding following the original, catastrophic disbanding of the Brotherhood of evil and the apparent deaths of most of its membership.
“What can you tell me?” Mallah asked, his eyes flicking up to glance at the dwarf.
“Very little,” The other replied, taking Mallah’s bishop. “As before, most of the Brotherhood was assumed deceased after the events of last year…. but, I cannot say I was surprised to hear it was only a temporary setback…check.”
Giacomo smiled slightly, at both his witticism and his chess playing.
“I must find him,” Mallah grunted, intently. “Check and mate.”
The dwarf glanced from the pieces, to his opponent and then back at the board and then sighed resignedly.
“Never could best you,” He shook his head and reached into his suit jacket, taking out a tightly rolled five dollar bill and tucked it in the mug. “A reward for a game well played.”
He gave a slight bow in farewell and strolled off into the crowd.
Mallah gestured for his next opponent, a middle-aged woman in a garish summer dress, to set up the pieces, while he dropped out some of the mug’s contents into his massive hand. Some of it he gave to a nearby teenage boy with instructions to fetch him a drink, while he unrolled the five.
Contained within it was a slip of paper with a list of three locations as well as a scribbled note that merely read:
“You are not the only one looking.”
Distracted as he was, Mallah still managed to beat the woman in nine moves.
# # # # #
As the afternoon crowds began to wander off, either in search of dinner or to rest up for the night’s activities, the female members of the Doom Patrol were seated closely on a park bench, contentedly full and drowsy.
Bast continued to intently watch the parade of humanity, while picking the few remaining shrimp out of her sandwich.
“Don’t let me drink anymore,” Rita said, intently starring at her hands. “I’m having trouble focusing on keeping my limbs all the same length…”
“You know,” Kate said. “It might be the four daiquiris talking, but could Danny take Bast back to her home planet…so she could scout around…see if they’re still conquering jerks or if they’ve gotten through that phase…?”
“Can Danny do that?” Bast asked. “Travel to other worlds?”
“My memory is still pretty spotty,” Rita mused. “And the Pim’s cups aren’t helping, but I seem to remember he could travel through other dimensions…didn’t someone use a brick of Danny’s to teleport…?”
“You could take me home…?” Bast muttered, thoughtfully.
“Maybe,” Kate shrugged. “Something to check out when we get back…what time are we supposed to meet Larry at…what was the name of the bar…?”
When Rita didn’t reply to either thought, Kate gave her a gentle nudge with her elbow. When she glanced over, Kate realized Rita was now eight feet tall, and shading her eyes as she peered over the crowd.
“What’s up?” She asked. “You spot Larry?”
“There’s a commotion over there,” Rita said.
“It’s New Orleans, there’s a ‘commotion’ every five feet.”
The crowd surged around them, their shouts, sounding neither joyous nor festive. Most of the people rushed down the side streets or into any open door.
As the crowd thinned, a figure stomped unsteadily into view.
He was a young African-American man; muscular with a shaved head. He wore jeans a stained ‘ Gotham Rockets’ t-shirt and was brandishing a crowbar that randomly fired off bursts of energy.
“Think you know me…!” He shouted, slurring slightly. “Treat me like that and think I’ll put up with it…!”
He swung the crowbar wildly, only missing passersby due to his inebriation. It started to glow fiercely.
He slammed it into the ground and a tremor raced up the street, knocking people off their feet.
“Oh dear,” Rita muttered.
Kate raced forward, her hands starting to glow.
“Hey! Crowbar!” She shouted, unsure what her plan was once she reached him.
Luckily Bast leapt past her, landing on the angry man’s shoulders and slapping him on either side of his head.
He staggered, falling to one knee. Bast drove her claws into his shoulder driving him down further and trying to get him to drop the crowbar.
With his free hand, he reached up and managed to get a fistful of fur. He yanked and sent her tumbling into Kate. The two women collided and landed in a heap on the pavement. Where Kate’s hands touched the ground the asphalt bubbled and melted into liquid.
“Owww…that…that could have gone better…!” Kate groaned. “Wait…! You’re awfully badass for a researcher…?”
“I come from a warrior race and my DNA has been spliced with a predator species,” Bast said, springing to her feet and offering Kate a hand up. “Is that a concern?”
“Kind of hot actually,” Kate responded.
“Really?” Rita frowned, as she shot up to twenty feet and stepped over her friends. “You think this is the best time…?”
She picked up Crowbar by the front of his shirt and slammed him against a brick wall covered with band posters.
“You are drunk and rude!” She scolded, pulling him back and slamming him against the wall two more times. “And I am trying to have a nice time with my friends!”
Third blow, his head lolled and he dropped his weapon of choice.
Rita dropped him into a garbage can and then dusted off her hands.
“Some people,” she muttered, shrinking back down to six feet. “So, how’d you know his name? Have the Doom Patrol fought him before?”
“He’s a super villain with a magic crow bar,” Kate shrugged. “Seemed a good guess.”
“Um, we are attracting attention,” Bast said, glancing around at the crowd surrounding them.
“We should probably stay until the police arrive,” Rita said, looking around. “You’d think there’d be some around,” Kate said, kicking the crowbar away from its unconscious owner.
“I think they’re all over at the bank!” A guy shouted from the crowd.
“Yeah!” A woman added. “That pirate got all rowdy!”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Kate muttered, slinging the crowbar over her shoulder like a baseball bat.
“Should we go check?” Bast asked.
“We are super heroes,” Rita said, shooting back up to twenty feet. “Could someone keep an eye on that man in the trash can? I don’t think he’s evil, just drunk.”
She stretched out her arms and scooped up Kate and Bast.
“I wonder what’s going on?” Bast asked.
# # # # #
Earlier
The living statue froze in an elaborate bowing pose, as the trio of super heroines strolled past. Once passed, he tilted his head and winked.
The woman in the evening gown began to play a new piece on her violin and the tune had a strange effect on the passers bys. They all began to move down to the far end of the square, forming a human wall in front of the large grey stone building that housed a museum and bank.
The flirty pirate then drew a flintlock pistol from his sash and he and the heavily tattooed man made their way through the crowd and into the bank.
Straightening up, the man dressed like a playing card, with a flourish suddenly made a fanned deck of cards appear in each hand and he jogged across the square to the museum.
From inside both buildings there were shouts and the sounds of a fight. This was followed by the sound of an industrial drill and then quiet.
Soon, the three men came racing out, each one weighed down, carrying several bulging sacks.
“Wow…!” Kate said, as she and the others entered the square. “That’s…actual super villains robbing a bank…right…?”
“This is really getting annoying,” Rita muttered, frowning. “Can’t we go anywhere…!”
“Who…?” The playing card looking man snapped startled by the heroines return. “Oh damnit…!”
“New Orleans doesn’t have a super hero team, you said!” The pirate added. “Who are they…the Outsiders…?”
“Really…?” Rita grumbled, cracking her over-sized knuckles. “Now, I’m in the mood to punch somebody.”
“Virtuosa!” The living statue called. “Can you deal with them…?”
“No,” The violinist in the black gown replied, not pausing in her playing. “Jack, I’m barely containing the crowd!”
“Fine, Sky-pirate get us out of here! Tattooed man and I will hold them off.” Jack of Spades instructed, as he ran at the women, throwing playing cards like they were ninja stars.
Kate dropped the crowbar, her hands flashing purple as she struggled to slap the cards away. The ones she got melted into droplets of liquid metal, the ones that got past slashed her jacket and jeans. A few drew blood.
The Tattooed man slapped at his right arm and suddenly a screeching eagle appeared and flew, talons extended, at Bast.
She froze in stunned amazement until it was nearly on her. At the last second the alien stumbled backwards, and rolled out of range. She immediately sprang up, launching herself at the Tattooed man. The minute her claws scratched his flesh, the eagle, which was swooping back, disappeared.
Tattooed man flinched back, clutching at his scratched arm.
“Damnit!” The villain exclaimed through gritted teeth.” Stupid bitch…!”
“You are very rude,” Bast replied raking her claws down both his arms, gouging down his illustrative arsenal.
Tattooed man gasped in pain, and fell to one knee, as a multitude of creatures and items appeared out of his arms, only to then burst like balloons.
Kate continued to swat away and melt playing cards, as her jacket was reduced to tatters.
A card flew past her glowing hands, nicking her right check on the way past.
“Oww!” She gasped, her hand moving to her wound. “That’s it!”
Teeth gritted, glowing hands held out in front of her, Kate raced at the Jack of Spades, uncaring how much further damage was done to her wardrobe.
“It’s my favorite jacket!” She shouted, angrily, grabbing the front of his tunic as she drove her knee into his groin.
“Eeeee…!” he squeaked before collapsing in a heap on the pavement.
Nearby, Sky Pirate took a chunky compass-looking gadget out and began to adjust it. From a nearby roof top an old fashioned long boat with wooden oars in metal oarlocks came floating over the rooftops toward the square.
Elastic girl strode across the way, being sure to lean down and extended her arm further so she could slap Virtuosa. Sending the villainous violin player stumbling back into a metal fence. The crowd began to blink and mill around in confusion.
Rita extended her arms and reached up to grab the flying longboat. It wobbled but refused to budge, staying in mid-air.
The Sky-pirate adjusted his control device and the boat started to rise.
Within minutes Elastic Girl had reached her maximum height and even standing on tiptoes was losing the struggle with the flying boat.
“Forget the boat!” Kate yelled, as she delivered a final kick to the fallen Jack of spades and then raced to get to Virtuosa before she retrieved her fallen violin. “Hit the pirate!”
Rita let go and dropped a couple of feet to the pavement. She glanced around frantically, spotted the Sky Pirate trying to escape by dodging through the crowd.
She delicately tiptoed in pursuit and quickly snatched him up by the back of his shirt and gave him a shake. She let the sword; three flintlock pistols, cell phone and handful of coins fall to the ground, while she focused on catching the compass.
She looked around and spotting a building with an ornate metal roof rail, hung the super villain on it.
Despite his wounds, the Tattooed man was still giving Bast a fight. Creatures and weapons sprang from his decorated arms. Some immediately faded, others popped like balloons at the cat-woman’s touch. She struck them as fast as he could summon them and as she got closer, his efforts became more frantic and sloppy. Each time he hit a scratched area, he’d wince.
Bast leapt past a giant catcher’s mitt, dodged an eagle, shoulder rolled under a cannon and launched herself at the villain. She dug her claws into his shoulders and drove him backwards, until he struck his head on the pavement and slumped unconscious.
Virtuosa shook her head and took hold of a nearby lamppost to help her get to her feet. Just as she did, Kate ran at her, driving a shoulder into the base of the villainess’ back and slamming her against the lamppost.
The black-gowned villain swayed and collapsed to the ground.
Rita returned to normal size, intently trying to figure out how to steer the flying boat. It was currently going in slow circles, roughly fifty feet above the crowded square.
“I think we won,” Kate said.
“That was exhilarating,” Bast added. “I like being a super hero.”
The crowd milled around them, most unsure what to say or do next. The rest took out their cell phones and got busy taking pictures and video.
Seconds later the police arrived, guns drawn surrounding all the combatants.
“Um…?” Kate said, raising her hands above her head. “Rita, I don’t suppose you’ve got a membership card or something that proves you’re a super hero…?”
“Oh dear,” Rita replied, looking up from the compass and noticing the policemen.
# # # # #
Later
Larry Trainor, now dressed, with Robot man’s head, tucked under his arm and in desperate need of coffee, hobbled out of his apartment building and down the street.
He grunted and nodded in reply to greetings from various inhabitants of the sentient street. The bandage-wrapped hero squinted upwards, noticing that the streetlights were still on and flickering erratically
“Hey! Mister Negative!” Somebody yelled behind him, making him wince. “Hey! Waitasecond!”
Larry stopped and turned to face the shouter.
An older vagrant, in need of a shave and wearing a greasy grey overcoat and wool cap came hobbling up to him. He held out a scrap of paper.
“Hey, this is for you,” he said. “I was passing the pay phone when it rang and some lady asked me to give you this message.”
“Okay, okay,” Larry nodded, snatching the paper away. “Thanks, I’ve got it, stop shouting.”
Larry uncrumpled the paper and began to read.
“Hey, Larry!” A new voice shouted.
“Damnit, why is everyone yelling at me?!” He muttered.
Papercut, a young super-villain who had attached himself to the Doom Patrol came jogging up.
“Larry, I think I figured out…!” He started, before pausing to catch his breath.
“Not right now,” Larry snapped, sullenly. “Rita and the girls got arrested last night… we’ve got to bail them out…god, I just want a cup of coffee and my bodyweight in aspirin…why is the world trying so hard to keep me from it?”
“Trainor!” Mallah shouted as he raced down the street, gorilla-style using his hands as well as his feet to propel him towards the trio.
“So help me god, if one more person…!” Larry snarled through gritted teeth.
“We have a problem,” The enhanced gorilla told him.
“Yeah, several,” Larry said. “First, I need some coffee, then we figure out how to pay the girls’ bail…”
“Miss Farr and the others are still in New Orleans…?” Mallah asked, concerned.
“Yeah…why…?” Larry asked, accusingly. “What’s going on?”
“Come on,” Mallah commanded, taking hold of Larry’s arm. He reached over, grabbed Robot man’s head and tossed it to Papercut.
“Hey! Careful with my friend’s head!” Larry snapped. “Take him back to the fixit shop, would you?”
Larry and Mallah reached the end of Danny the street.
The pavement ended at a dirt road that was dotted with one-story wooden shacks and cultivated fields.
A crowd of Asian people in grey and brown work clothes, stood around, staring at the newly arrived street in fear and wonder.
“Are we in…China…?” Larry exclaimed.
To be continued…
Next issue: Two more people from the Doom Patrol’s past return as the quest to figure out what’s going on with Danny takes us across the world and beyond…!
Larry Trainor rolled over and gripped the edge of his bed, breathing heavily and hoping for the sweet release of death.
“Uggghhh…why did I think it was a good idea to drink something called a ‘hand grenade’…?” He moaned, blinking in the morning light, wincing after every blink until he was able to keep his eyes open.
Larry managed to haul himself upright and sat back against the headboard.
He was still wearing his Doom Patrol uniform over his bandage-wrapped body, except he was only wearing one boot, a Hawaiian shirt and his right hand was smudged with the kind of ink stamps they give you when you go to a bar.
Gingerly shaking his aching head, Larry glanced over and noticed the severed robotic head of his teammate Cliff Steele on his bedside table.
It was wearing a paper crown and a pair of sunglasses with one lens missing.
“That’s right, I took you to that jazz club…” Larry muttered, looking around for his other boot. “Hoped it’d…wake you up…or something…well, looks like you had a good time…hope the girls got home okay…”
# # # # #
Earlier
The French Quarter, New Orleans
At just past noon, the dedicated drinkers from the previous night were moving past the late risers looking for coffee and those getting an early start on tonight’s partying, as well as a swirl of tourists who came to take in the sights, both historical and the antics of their fellow revelers.
Eager picture takers, middle-aged women traveling from quaint shop to quaint shop, while their weary husbands were in the bars next store, checking out the scantily dressed young female partiers and performers over the rim of their beers and reckless spring breakers formed an endless parade.
Every corner had a street performer, either a musician, magician, mime, juggler or unpublished poet.
Seated around a tiny, round table, enjoying beignets and bitter coffee, as well as the free entertainment, were three women.
In any other city, they would have attracted attention, here they were just part of the mad, eccentric crowd, earning no more than the occasional glance.
A tall brunette, with a movie star face and figure wore a red mini-dress and purple boots. She sat next to a slightly masculine looking woman with lank, shoulder -length sandy blonde hair, clad in jeans, a denim jacket and a maroon “I’m not a lesbian, but my girlfriend is” t-shirt.
Next to her the most unusual of the trio; from the neck down she had the body and wardrobe of an exotic dancing girl. From the neck up she had the head of a cat.
They were the female members of Doom Patrol: Rita Farr (or possibly her clone, it’s confusing) the famed movie actress turned super heroine, Elastic Girl.
Kate Godwin, transgender barista turned super heroine, Coagula and the alien explorer and one-time goddess who was now trying to figure out where she fit into all this, Bast.
“I gotta admit,” Kate said. “I’ve been concerned about Danny lately, but this was a pretty good choice and no sign of marauding aliens or monsters…um…no offense.”
“None taken,” Bast murmured between sips of her heavy on the cream latte. “I did not make the best first impression.”*
(See Doom Patrol #1)
“I wonder where the others wandered off to?” Rita asked, frowning thoughtfully.
“Mallah stayed back in the square,” Kate said. “I think he’s taking on all challengers at chess. Probably keep him out of trouble...”
“Larry worries about Mallah,” Rita mused, absently stirring her coffee. “He’s convinced the minute Mallah finds the Brain, he’s going to…build a death ray or something…”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know,” She continued. “He seems as lost as the rest of us and maybe we’re helping.”
“All we can do is wait and see and hope,” Kate added. She sipped her coffee, frowned sadly at the empty cup and set it down. “We’ll have plenty of time to worry about everybody’s issues back on Danny, but look at where we are…!”
The three women looked away from their snacks and at their surroundings: There were an army of tourists and street performers in every shape, size, age and attire.
On one corner a woman in a floor length black evening gown was playing the violin. A living statue actor was dressed like a figure off a playing card, occasionally moving to startle passers bys. Across the street, an obviously inebriated man, dressed like a pirate staggered past, singing lustily, if inarticulately to any pretty female that crossed his path, while another man was attempting to impress two college girls with the extensive collection of tattoos covering his arms.
“Your planet is an interesting place,” Bast said, smiling at a young couple that had stopped to admire her ‘costume’ and asked to take a picture.
“You can’t really judge the rest of the world by New Orleans,” Kate laughed.
“I was here once before,” Rita said, looking around. “I was dating Dan Cassidy. He was doing effects for the first ‘House of Secrets’ movie…and…um…sorry, my drifty memory…what were you saying, Bast?”
“I was just admiring how far your people have advanced, while also being amused at things that have stayed the same,” The cat-woman said.
“You know,” Kate said, standing up and fishing some money to pay the bill from her jeans pocket. “For someone who came here to impersonate a deity and conquer the planet, you are remarkably mellow.”
“I was not as conquest-minded as my fellows,” Bast said, standing and stretching. “I merely wished to explore. Which is why I have been in no hurry to seek to return to my home world. It does not sound as though they have lost that tendency.”
“Unfortunately, that’s most likely true,” Rita nodded, drawing her attention away from the street musicians. “Larry didn’t get much chance to talk to Hawkman…something came up*…but, the impression he got was the Sidhe are all off Earth and not really welcome to return.”
(* See the Hawkman mini-series to find out why he’s too busy to chat)
“So, getting you home gets tricky,” Kate muttered. “Anyone else craving a po’boy?”
“I do not know how welcome I would even be on my world,” Bast said, wistfully. “Sounds as though little has changed while I slept…”
“Well, I don’t think you can go back to your old job of ‘goddess’ either,” Rita shrugged. She stood up and accidently grew another foot taller. Due to where they were, it only attracted mild curiosity.
Bast shrugged and gave a tiny, brief smile.
“Most likely.” She murmured in reply. “This age seems to have little use for gods, despite the fact that a great many of them seem to be walking this world. That leaves me with ‘explorer’ as a vocation.”
“You’ve fallen in with the right group,” Kate said, absently, as she scouted around for a place to eat.
“True,” Rita said. “We could really use someone to help us with science and things…our current ‘science expert’ is more concerned with fixing toasters.”
“Come on,” Kate said, hooking her arms through the arms of her teammates. “We get back to Danny and we can ponder the future and think deep thoughts. We’re in New Orleans! Time to eat too much, drink too much and listen to great music…who knows, there might even be a little romance…if I’m really lucky…!”
She steered the other two women away from the little café and towards a crowded, raucous bar that advertized cheap beer and homemade shrimp po’boys, unaware of the interest they had attracted from certain members of the crowd. The living statue dressed as a playing card intently watched their progress…
# # # # #
Several blocks away, in a large square with a center section enclosed by a short wrought iron fence, dozens of little tables were set up where you could have your fortune told, listen to music from rock to classical, watch a juggler, a painter, a poet, sign up for a tour of the city or play chess with a gorilla.
Mallah was perched upon a stool, slightly taller than the small table his chessboard was set up on. Next to it was a beer mug half full of coins and crumpled bills.
He’d faced numerous opponents across the chessboard: inebriated college boys, assorted tourists, a few of the other street performers and several homeless inhabitants of the area and bested them all.
Most of the other players had been distracted, either by the amount of alcohol they’d consumed or by admiring what they believed to be Mallah’s gorilla costume.
A middle aged dwarf, in a well-tailored suit, and sporting a cane, seated himself across from the primate chess prodigy and dropped a foreign coin in the mug with a heavy ‘clink’.
“Mousier Giacomo,” Mallah nodded in greeting.
“Signor Mallah,” The dwarf replied, moving a pawn. “I understand you are seeking a mutual acquaintance of ours.”
Mallah nodded and moved a piece.
The conversation continued in this manner, with both players seeming only to be half paying attention to what the other was saying, focused more on the game.
Giacomo was a criminal mastermind in his own right, who had served as a sort of major domo to the Doom Patrol’s arch-foe, the Brain, content to arrange details and help behind the scenes.
He had gone into hiding following the original, catastrophic disbanding of the Brotherhood of evil and the apparent deaths of most of its membership.
“What can you tell me?” Mallah asked, his eyes flicking up to glance at the dwarf.
“Very little,” The other replied, taking Mallah’s bishop. “As before, most of the Brotherhood was assumed deceased after the events of last year…. but, I cannot say I was surprised to hear it was only a temporary setback…check.”
Giacomo smiled slightly, at both his witticism and his chess playing.
“I must find him,” Mallah grunted, intently. “Check and mate.”
The dwarf glanced from the pieces, to his opponent and then back at the board and then sighed resignedly.
“Never could best you,” He shook his head and reached into his suit jacket, taking out a tightly rolled five dollar bill and tucked it in the mug. “A reward for a game well played.”
He gave a slight bow in farewell and strolled off into the crowd.
Mallah gestured for his next opponent, a middle-aged woman in a garish summer dress, to set up the pieces, while he dropped out some of the mug’s contents into his massive hand. Some of it he gave to a nearby teenage boy with instructions to fetch him a drink, while he unrolled the five.
Contained within it was a slip of paper with a list of three locations as well as a scribbled note that merely read:
“You are not the only one looking.”
Distracted as he was, Mallah still managed to beat the woman in nine moves.
# # # # #
As the afternoon crowds began to wander off, either in search of dinner or to rest up for the night’s activities, the female members of the Doom Patrol were seated closely on a park bench, contentedly full and drowsy.
Bast continued to intently watch the parade of humanity, while picking the few remaining shrimp out of her sandwich.
“Don’t let me drink anymore,” Rita said, intently starring at her hands. “I’m having trouble focusing on keeping my limbs all the same length…”
“You know,” Kate said. “It might be the four daiquiris talking, but could Danny take Bast back to her home planet…so she could scout around…see if they’re still conquering jerks or if they’ve gotten through that phase…?”
“Can Danny do that?” Bast asked. “Travel to other worlds?”
“My memory is still pretty spotty,” Rita mused. “And the Pim’s cups aren’t helping, but I seem to remember he could travel through other dimensions…didn’t someone use a brick of Danny’s to teleport…?”
“You could take me home…?” Bast muttered, thoughtfully.
“Maybe,” Kate shrugged. “Something to check out when we get back…what time are we supposed to meet Larry at…what was the name of the bar…?”
When Rita didn’t reply to either thought, Kate gave her a gentle nudge with her elbow. When she glanced over, Kate realized Rita was now eight feet tall, and shading her eyes as she peered over the crowd.
“What’s up?” She asked. “You spot Larry?”
“There’s a commotion over there,” Rita said.
“It’s New Orleans, there’s a ‘commotion’ every five feet.”
The crowd surged around them, their shouts, sounding neither joyous nor festive. Most of the people rushed down the side streets or into any open door.
As the crowd thinned, a figure stomped unsteadily into view.
He was a young African-American man; muscular with a shaved head. He wore jeans a stained ‘ Gotham Rockets’ t-shirt and was brandishing a crowbar that randomly fired off bursts of energy.
“Think you know me…!” He shouted, slurring slightly. “Treat me like that and think I’ll put up with it…!”
He swung the crowbar wildly, only missing passersby due to his inebriation. It started to glow fiercely.
He slammed it into the ground and a tremor raced up the street, knocking people off their feet.
“Oh dear,” Rita muttered.
Kate raced forward, her hands starting to glow.
“Hey! Crowbar!” She shouted, unsure what her plan was once she reached him.
Luckily Bast leapt past her, landing on the angry man’s shoulders and slapping him on either side of his head.
He staggered, falling to one knee. Bast drove her claws into his shoulder driving him down further and trying to get him to drop the crowbar.
With his free hand, he reached up and managed to get a fistful of fur. He yanked and sent her tumbling into Kate. The two women collided and landed in a heap on the pavement. Where Kate’s hands touched the ground the asphalt bubbled and melted into liquid.
“Owww…that…that could have gone better…!” Kate groaned. “Wait…! You’re awfully badass for a researcher…?”
“I come from a warrior race and my DNA has been spliced with a predator species,” Bast said, springing to her feet and offering Kate a hand up. “Is that a concern?”
“Kind of hot actually,” Kate responded.
“Really?” Rita frowned, as she shot up to twenty feet and stepped over her friends. “You think this is the best time…?”
She picked up Crowbar by the front of his shirt and slammed him against a brick wall covered with band posters.
“You are drunk and rude!” She scolded, pulling him back and slamming him against the wall two more times. “And I am trying to have a nice time with my friends!”
Third blow, his head lolled and he dropped his weapon of choice.
Rita dropped him into a garbage can and then dusted off her hands.
“Some people,” she muttered, shrinking back down to six feet. “So, how’d you know his name? Have the Doom Patrol fought him before?”
“He’s a super villain with a magic crow bar,” Kate shrugged. “Seemed a good guess.”
“Um, we are attracting attention,” Bast said, glancing around at the crowd surrounding them.
“We should probably stay until the police arrive,” Rita said, looking around. “You’d think there’d be some around,” Kate said, kicking the crowbar away from its unconscious owner.
“I think they’re all over at the bank!” A guy shouted from the crowd.
“Yeah!” A woman added. “That pirate got all rowdy!”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Kate muttered, slinging the crowbar over her shoulder like a baseball bat.
“Should we go check?” Bast asked.
“We are super heroes,” Rita said, shooting back up to twenty feet. “Could someone keep an eye on that man in the trash can? I don’t think he’s evil, just drunk.”
She stretched out her arms and scooped up Kate and Bast.
“I wonder what’s going on?” Bast asked.
# # # # #
Earlier
The living statue froze in an elaborate bowing pose, as the trio of super heroines strolled past. Once passed, he tilted his head and winked.
The woman in the evening gown began to play a new piece on her violin and the tune had a strange effect on the passers bys. They all began to move down to the far end of the square, forming a human wall in front of the large grey stone building that housed a museum and bank.
The flirty pirate then drew a flintlock pistol from his sash and he and the heavily tattooed man made their way through the crowd and into the bank.
Straightening up, the man dressed like a playing card, with a flourish suddenly made a fanned deck of cards appear in each hand and he jogged across the square to the museum.
From inside both buildings there were shouts and the sounds of a fight. This was followed by the sound of an industrial drill and then quiet.
Soon, the three men came racing out, each one weighed down, carrying several bulging sacks.
“Wow…!” Kate said, as she and the others entered the square. “That’s…actual super villains robbing a bank…right…?”
“This is really getting annoying,” Rita muttered, frowning. “Can’t we go anywhere…!”
“Who…?” The playing card looking man snapped startled by the heroines return. “Oh damnit…!”
“New Orleans doesn’t have a super hero team, you said!” The pirate added. “Who are they…the Outsiders…?”
“Really…?” Rita grumbled, cracking her over-sized knuckles. “Now, I’m in the mood to punch somebody.”
“Virtuosa!” The living statue called. “Can you deal with them…?”
“No,” The violinist in the black gown replied, not pausing in her playing. “Jack, I’m barely containing the crowd!”
“Fine, Sky-pirate get us out of here! Tattooed man and I will hold them off.” Jack of Spades instructed, as he ran at the women, throwing playing cards like they were ninja stars.
Kate dropped the crowbar, her hands flashing purple as she struggled to slap the cards away. The ones she got melted into droplets of liquid metal, the ones that got past slashed her jacket and jeans. A few drew blood.
The Tattooed man slapped at his right arm and suddenly a screeching eagle appeared and flew, talons extended, at Bast.
She froze in stunned amazement until it was nearly on her. At the last second the alien stumbled backwards, and rolled out of range. She immediately sprang up, launching herself at the Tattooed man. The minute her claws scratched his flesh, the eagle, which was swooping back, disappeared.
Tattooed man flinched back, clutching at his scratched arm.
“Damnit!” The villain exclaimed through gritted teeth.” Stupid bitch…!”
“You are very rude,” Bast replied raking her claws down both his arms, gouging down his illustrative arsenal.
Tattooed man gasped in pain, and fell to one knee, as a multitude of creatures and items appeared out of his arms, only to then burst like balloons.
Kate continued to swat away and melt playing cards, as her jacket was reduced to tatters.
A card flew past her glowing hands, nicking her right check on the way past.
“Oww!” She gasped, her hand moving to her wound. “That’s it!”
Teeth gritted, glowing hands held out in front of her, Kate raced at the Jack of Spades, uncaring how much further damage was done to her wardrobe.
“It’s my favorite jacket!” She shouted, angrily, grabbing the front of his tunic as she drove her knee into his groin.
“Eeeee…!” he squeaked before collapsing in a heap on the pavement.
Nearby, Sky Pirate took a chunky compass-looking gadget out and began to adjust it. From a nearby roof top an old fashioned long boat with wooden oars in metal oarlocks came floating over the rooftops toward the square.
Elastic girl strode across the way, being sure to lean down and extended her arm further so she could slap Virtuosa. Sending the villainous violin player stumbling back into a metal fence. The crowd began to blink and mill around in confusion.
Rita extended her arms and reached up to grab the flying longboat. It wobbled but refused to budge, staying in mid-air.
The Sky-pirate adjusted his control device and the boat started to rise.
Within minutes Elastic Girl had reached her maximum height and even standing on tiptoes was losing the struggle with the flying boat.
“Forget the boat!” Kate yelled, as she delivered a final kick to the fallen Jack of spades and then raced to get to Virtuosa before she retrieved her fallen violin. “Hit the pirate!”
Rita let go and dropped a couple of feet to the pavement. She glanced around frantically, spotted the Sky Pirate trying to escape by dodging through the crowd.
She delicately tiptoed in pursuit and quickly snatched him up by the back of his shirt and gave him a shake. She let the sword; three flintlock pistols, cell phone and handful of coins fall to the ground, while she focused on catching the compass.
She looked around and spotting a building with an ornate metal roof rail, hung the super villain on it.
Despite his wounds, the Tattooed man was still giving Bast a fight. Creatures and weapons sprang from his decorated arms. Some immediately faded, others popped like balloons at the cat-woman’s touch. She struck them as fast as he could summon them and as she got closer, his efforts became more frantic and sloppy. Each time he hit a scratched area, he’d wince.
Bast leapt past a giant catcher’s mitt, dodged an eagle, shoulder rolled under a cannon and launched herself at the villain. She dug her claws into his shoulders and drove him backwards, until he struck his head on the pavement and slumped unconscious.
Virtuosa shook her head and took hold of a nearby lamppost to help her get to her feet. Just as she did, Kate ran at her, driving a shoulder into the base of the villainess’ back and slamming her against the lamppost.
The black-gowned villain swayed and collapsed to the ground.
Rita returned to normal size, intently trying to figure out how to steer the flying boat. It was currently going in slow circles, roughly fifty feet above the crowded square.
“I think we won,” Kate said.
“That was exhilarating,” Bast added. “I like being a super hero.”
The crowd milled around them, most unsure what to say or do next. The rest took out their cell phones and got busy taking pictures and video.
Seconds later the police arrived, guns drawn surrounding all the combatants.
“Um…?” Kate said, raising her hands above her head. “Rita, I don’t suppose you’ve got a membership card or something that proves you’re a super hero…?”
“Oh dear,” Rita replied, looking up from the compass and noticing the policemen.
# # # # #
Later
Larry Trainor, now dressed, with Robot man’s head, tucked under his arm and in desperate need of coffee, hobbled out of his apartment building and down the street.
He grunted and nodded in reply to greetings from various inhabitants of the sentient street. The bandage-wrapped hero squinted upwards, noticing that the streetlights were still on and flickering erratically
“Hey! Mister Negative!” Somebody yelled behind him, making him wince. “Hey! Waitasecond!”
Larry stopped and turned to face the shouter.
An older vagrant, in need of a shave and wearing a greasy grey overcoat and wool cap came hobbling up to him. He held out a scrap of paper.
“Hey, this is for you,” he said. “I was passing the pay phone when it rang and some lady asked me to give you this message.”
“Okay, okay,” Larry nodded, snatching the paper away. “Thanks, I’ve got it, stop shouting.”
Larry uncrumpled the paper and began to read.
“Hey, Larry!” A new voice shouted.
“Damnit, why is everyone yelling at me?!” He muttered.
Papercut, a young super-villain who had attached himself to the Doom Patrol came jogging up.
“Larry, I think I figured out…!” He started, before pausing to catch his breath.
“Not right now,” Larry snapped, sullenly. “Rita and the girls got arrested last night… we’ve got to bail them out…god, I just want a cup of coffee and my bodyweight in aspirin…why is the world trying so hard to keep me from it?”
“Trainor!” Mallah shouted as he raced down the street, gorilla-style using his hands as well as his feet to propel him towards the trio.
“So help me god, if one more person…!” Larry snarled through gritted teeth.
“We have a problem,” The enhanced gorilla told him.
“Yeah, several,” Larry said. “First, I need some coffee, then we figure out how to pay the girls’ bail…”
“Miss Farr and the others are still in New Orleans…?” Mallah asked, concerned.
“Yeah…why…?” Larry asked, accusingly. “What’s going on?”
“Come on,” Mallah commanded, taking hold of Larry’s arm. He reached over, grabbed Robot man’s head and tossed it to Papercut.
“Hey! Careful with my friend’s head!” Larry snapped. “Take him back to the fixit shop, would you?”
Larry and Mallah reached the end of Danny the street.
The pavement ended at a dirt road that was dotted with one-story wooden shacks and cultivated fields.
A crowd of Asian people in grey and brown work clothes, stood around, staring at the newly arrived street in fear and wonder.
“Are we in…China…?” Larry exclaimed.
To be continued…
Next issue: Two more people from the Doom Patrol’s past return as the quest to figure out what’s going on with Danny takes us across the world and beyond…!