ISSUE #4 (February 2024)
Written by Travis Hiltz Featuring: The Freedom Fighters |
"THE ROAD NOT TAKEN"History lesson: On Earth X, in the year 1941, the Japanese military launched two air attacks on America.*
* (All Star Squadron #31- multiversal Trav) Only the strike on Pearl Harbor succeeded. The other was stopped by the efforts of Uncle Sam and the Freedom Fighters. But this team was not the more well-known lineup, but rather a prototype team made up of lesser-known rookie mystery men. They stopped the attack at the coast of their lives. The team, and their sacrifice, went largely unknown to the superhero community, the world at large and to history. But, in the far reaches of the multiverse, events played out differently and, on another Earth, Neon the unknown, Miss America, the Red Torpedo, the Invisible hood and Magno the magnetic man survived the attack, due to the sacrifice of Uncle Sam... -------------------------------------------------- A United States naval field hospital, somewhere in the South Pacific... Jim Lockhart’s last memory was of his mini- submarine, the Red Torpedo; wrestling with the damaged controls, as the burning Japanese fighter plane plunged towards him. He was able to avoid a head on crash, but the impact of the plane, sent a boiling hot wave smashing against the mini-sub. The windscreen cracked, and Jim was thrown to the side, his head hit the metal frame and blackness swirled around him... He woke with a start, attempted to sit up and flopped back against the pillow, feeling dizzy. “Pillow...?” He mumbled, puzzled. “Where...?” “You okay?” A voice asked. Lockhart made another effort and managed to sit up. He was in some kind of military field hospital. Everything was in various shades of drab green and brown: the rough canvas walls and ceilings, the half dozen cots and couple wooden crates, acting as makeshift chairs. Sitting on one of the crates was Jim’s teammate Magno the magnetic man. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever learned his civilian name...Tim...maybe...? Magno was a tall, broad-shouldered man with short brown hair. He was dressed in a red leotard, that left his arms and legs bare, blue boots, belt and wristbands. There was a white magnet emblem on his chest. His blue cape was draped over his shoulders, like a blanket. He looked tired. “Yeah, I think so,” Jim muttered. “Headache...where are...uh...the others...?” “Don’t know,” Magno shrugged in response. “Just the three of us here, when I woke up.” “Three...?” Lockhart muttered, looking around. In the far corner of the tent, Neon the unknown sat, Indian style. He was also floating, several feet above the ground. Neon was clad all in baggy red and blue, resembling a Bedouin or gypsy, down to his red sash and headscarf. His chin rested on his chest, giving the appearance he was asleep or in some kind of trance. He was also glowing slightly. “What happened?” Lockhart asked, pushing up his domino mask to rub his eyes. He sat up and swung his legs around. He realized he was in his skivvies and looked around for his costume while he talked. “Where are we...looks like a field hospital, any sign of the others...has anybody mentioned the Torpedo...?” “I don’t know,” Magno grumbled. “I’ve only been awake a little bit myself...don’t know what’s going on...I don’t know about any of this!” Lockhart spotted his red uniform draped over a chair, and pulled it on, while glancing over at his new teammate. “Are you...um...okay?” He asked, tentatively. “No. No I’m not,” The other man answered, looking sullenly at the dirt floor. “I’m...I was a lineman, just a working joe. I got my powers by accident...trying to help fix some new kind of generator. I was only doing this mystery man thing for a couple months when Uncle Sam found me. I’m not a scientist, or a soldier, I am in so far over my goddamn head...!” “Look, I get it,” Lockhart said, sitting down to pull on his red boots. “I don’t have any fancy powers myself. Wanted to just explore the ocean. All that ‘Robin Hood of the sea’ nonsense was started by the newspapers. I’m just a guy with a boat...and now, that might be gone...pretty sure the Torpedo was hit...think I smelled smoke...anyway, we need to just stick together...find...uh...the others...maybe Sam...” “Uncle Sam is gone, “Neon the unknown said, quietly. “He...whatever he did to save us, there was a burst of energy, like nothing I’ve encountered before...then, he was gone, like a firework.” “So, we’re on our own,” Magno said. “Great. We’ve been doing a cracker jack job so far...!” “There’s a squadron of Japanese Zeroes that would disagree with you,” A nurse said, entering the tent. “What are you boys doing up? You need your rest.” “We...uh,” Magno muttered, sounding like a guilty schoolboy. “Wait,” Neon said, narrowing his eyes, to peer intently at the nurse. “It’s you!” The nurse gestured and her white uniform and cap faded, to be replaced with the red, white and blue costume of... “Miss America!” Red Torpedo exclaimed. “Hey, you’re alive!” Magno added. “How’s everyone doing?” She asked, sitting down on the cot next to the magnetic man. “They had me in a separate tent, worried about my modesty, I guess. They seem to be too busy to keep an eye on me. Easy to transmute my costume and sneak into the ‘boy’s dorm’.” “What have you found out?” Neon asked. “Anything interesting?” “Well, there’s no sign or mention of Sam. So...?” Miss America shrugged, sadly. “Yeah, so...” Lockhart muttered. “So?” Magno grumbled. “Let’s just say it, for god’s sake! He’s dead and we’re on our own! As first missions go, we didn’t cover ourselves in glory, and we’re done!” “Not quite done,” A new voice said. A figure appeared, standing near Magno’s cot. He was dressed, from head to toe, in brown. A hood obscured his features. “Goddamn, Hood, stop doing that!” Magno exclaimed. “It’s creepy.” “He has a point,” Red Torpedo nodded. “Glad to see you’re still alive, but...” “Sorry,” The hooded mystery man replied. “But no time for pleasantries. We aren’t finished.” “What?” Red Torpedo asked. “What do you mean?” “We stopped the attack on the west coast,” The Hood said, crossing his arms. “But the Japanese succeeded at Pearl Harbor.” “That’s probably why they haven’t had the time to worry about us,” Miss America mused, sadly. “An attack like that, followed by a half dozen mystery men falling out of the sky...!” “We’re in the clear, because they recognized a couple of us...well, you.” The Hood explained. “Apparently, the Red Torpedo is known to the navy, and Miss America has had enough coverage in the press...” “It’s the hemline,” she said, flippantly. “Uh...yes,” The Hood continued. “Because of Pearl Harbor the Navy is stretched thin and running around, trying to deal with everything and there’s a third attack coming.” “What!” Magno barked. “How? We can’t...!” “We may have to,” Neon said, quietly. “Great,” Red Torpedo muttered. “More planes.” “No,’ The Hood said. “As far as I’ve been able to piece together, the Navy suspects there’s a group of Japanese submarines planning a follow up attack on the coast of California.” “Damn!” Magno said. “Figures,” Lockhart muttered. “The one time I could help, my Torpedo is wrecked.” “No, it’s not,” The Hood replied. “I don’t know what kind of shape it’s in, looks pretty battered, but your sub was in one piece.” “What should we do?” Miss America asked. “What can we do?” “If things are as crazy as they sound,” Red Torpedo said. “The navy is going to be stretched too thin, to deal with a third attack. We need to do something.” “I agree,” Neon said, unfolding his legs and standing up and stretching. His glow momentarily intensified, before settling back to its faint status. “But I can see several problems with the idea.” “Besides the part that we barely survived the last time?” Magno asked. “I do have a rough plan,” The Hood said, pulling over a wooden crate. He then took several roughly folded maps out of his belt and spread them out on the makeshift table. “As far as I can figure,” He explained, tracing lines on the map with a finger. “The rumor has it the subs, I don’t know how many...” “It’s probably only three,” The Red Torpedo said, scratching his chin in thought, as he studied the maps. “They are coming through this stretch of the Pacific, heading for the west coast. It seems the plan was...is to strike directly at California, while the air attacks were occurring.” “So, why hasn’t it happened yet?” Neon asked. “What delayed them?” “Probably, storms out to sea,” The Torpedo said. “Then, once the other attacks happened, the Japanese subs, had to avoid all the navy ships, the air attack had alerted.” “How do we find them and how do we stop them?” Miss America asked. “Finding them is going to be tricky,” Red Torpedo nodded, not taking his eyes off the map. “But, if we can find them, and are lucky enough to catch them, around...here, this cluster of islands...it’s a good hiding spot for a group of subs, as well as giving us a solid place to launch a counterattack or maybe stop the subs by grounding them.” “That still leaves the problem of how to find them.” Miss America reminded them. “I can find them, I think.” Magno said, in a low voice. He looked up, only to find all his teammates looking, expectantly, at him. “With my magnetic powers, I should be able to find three big pieces of metal, even under the water. Get me anywhere near them, and I can lead you, so we can all probably get killed.” “Well, that’s settled,” Neon said, simply. “Can we be on our way, before the Navy remembers to check on us.” “What about my sub?” Lockhart asked. “I’ll lead you to it,” The Hood said. “And I’ll come along,” Miss America added. “To keep you out of trouble.” “Uh...what about us?” Magno asked. “Be ready to move, once you hear the ruckus,” Red Torpedo replied. “If it’s still seaworthy, there’s no way to sneak with a bright red mini sub.” As the trio prepared to leave, the Invisible Hood faded from sight, and Miss America’s hands glowed, transforming her and the Torpedo’s costumes into appropriate, nondescript uniforms. The Hood guided them through the naval station, by keeping one invisible hand on Miss America’s arm, and the occasional whispered word. The chaos of recent events helped them make their way, largely unnoticed. The navy had appropriated a small island, making use of the docks and buildings used by the previous residents, a small fishing village. They found the Red Torpedo minisub, tucked in a far corner, a tarp thrown over the damaged craft. The trio went behind the minisub, so it blocked them from view. Jim Lockhart, climbed under the tarp and into his namesake vehicle. Leaving the Invisible Hood to play lookout, Miss America ducked under the tarp. “What do you think?” She asked. “She took a beating,” Lockhart said, in the cockpit, fiddling with controls and some wiring. “Systems seem fine, not sure if the body is still seaworthy...” “I can help with that,” Miss America replied, resting her hands against the dented and scarred hull. Her hands began to glow. Miss America closed her eyes and her forehead wrinkled in concentration. The glow spread across the minisub and when it faded away, the hull was dent free and showroom pristine. Red Torpedo climbed out. “She’ll run...little low on ammo, but...oh my...!” He stopped, a smile on his face. He reached out a hand and laid it gently on the repaired sub. “Look at you...!” He breathed. “Boy, if I could find a fella that looked at me like that!” Miss America said, under her breath. “Well?” The Invisible hood asked, appearing by their side. “He needs a minute,” Miss America said quietly. “We may not have much more than that,” The Hood said. “Sounds like they’ve noticed we’re missing.” “We need to move,” The Red Torpedo said, climbing back into the cockpit. “ It’s going to be a little snug.” The Invisible Hood pulled the tarp off, before squeezing in, behind Lockhart’s pilot seat, next to Miss America. Red Torpedo flicked switches, adjusted dials and then grabbed the steering yoke. “Here goes nothing,” He muttered. The minisub sputtered and shook. Its jets flickered, weakly, before roaring to life. “Hold on,” The Red Torpedo said, pulling back on the yoke. “She doesn’t like being airborne!” “Wait...what...?” Miss America managed to gasp before the red minisub shot into the air. “Hope this works,” The Invisible Hood said, nervously. “Otherwise, the Navy is going to be very skeptical of the story we tell them, after we crash.” “Don’t distract the pilot,” Miss America chided, a touch anxious over their flight herself. “She’ll be fine,” The Red Torpedo snapped. “The Torpedo is a tough girl...here we go!” He flicked several toggles switches, slammed the heel of his hand against a red button and then pulled back on the yoke fiercely. Small jets, by the tail of the minisub flared, and it blasted over the Naval base, arced through the air and splashed into the sea. “Hopefully, they’re too busy to worry about chasing us,” Red Torpedo said, intently adjusting controls. “We’ll move fast underwater, and then surface and make contact with the others. Hang tight.” “We have a choice?” The Hood asked, shifting uncomfortably. “You do know how to make a girl feel special,” Miss America muttered, glancing out the clear dome canopy, at the ocean rushing by. “If circumstances weren’t so dire, this would all be quite exciting. You can’t beat the view.” “No, you can’t.” The Red Torpedo smiled, glancing outwards quickly, before returning to his controls. A half hour of undersea travel took them roughly to the map coordinates. “I’ve got something on the radar,” Red Torpedo said, adjusting controls. “Too small for planes...let’s take a look.” The mini sub surfaced, and bobbed about, as the trio emerged and stood on the small deck, peering about, expectantly. “There!” Miss America shouted, pointing upwards. She then began waving. Their teammates swooped downwards and landed upon the mini sub’s deck. “You got it running,” Magno said, tapping his foot against the deck, while giving an approving nod. “Any luck?” Invisible Hood asked. “Yeah,” Magno said, holding out a hand. Waves of magnetic energy, looking like heat haze, projected downward into the water. “There’s definitely something...several big somethings...nearby.” “So, what now?” Miss America asked. Red Torpedo realized everyone seemed to be looking at him. Unsure how he got designated leader, he rubbed his chin in thought. “Okay, if they get past those islands,” he said, pointing to a collection of lumps of land, off in the distance. ‘The subs will be in open water and there’s almost no chance of stopping them before they reach the west coast. “How do we lure them there?” The Invisible Hood asked. “We’ll figure something out,” Red Torpedo replied, hoping that sounded convincing or reassuring. “Let’s get over there.” Once on the biggest of the islets, the Freedom Fighters scattered to get the lay of the land and ocean. “This is going to be tricky,” The Torpedo muttered. “If we separate to go after all three, I don’t see how...?” “Maybe...?” Miss America started to suggest, but then her idea stalled. “Let me see what I can do,” Magno said, striding down the rocky beach. He went out far enough, that the sea washed over the toes of his boots. He held out his hands, fingers splayed. His forehead wrinkled in concentration. The others stumbled, feeling the waves of magnetic energy their teammate was radiating. “He can’t...!”Miss America gasped. “Can he...?” “I think we’re about to find out,” Red Torpedo said. “Fascinating,” Neon added, floating nearby. Magno’s arms began to tremble, and the ocean rolled and raged, churned up to a worrying degree. The magnetic hero raised his arms and as he collapsed to his knees, three Japanese submarines broke the surface and ran aground on the stony beach. “I’ll be damned...!” The Invisible Hood said, drawing his guns, as he faded away. Neon took off, as Miss America helped the Torpedo get the weakened Magno to his mini-sub. “Do we have a plan?” Miss America asked. “Keep the subs here and don’t get killed.” He replied, closing the canopy and starting up his engines. “Good plan,” She muttered. Miss America turned and used her transmuting powers to change a nearby fallen log into an enormous, winged object, like an art deco statue of a seagull. With her other hand she generated an energy rope, like the reins for a horse, and stepping onto its back, took off. “Do we have a plan?” Neon asked, coming to float alongside her. “Magno is out of action,” She explained. “The Torpedo will obviously hit them from the water. We get the air, and I don’t have any idea where the Hood went.” “That’s not a plan,” Neon said. “It’s barely a notion.” “I’m open to suggestion!” Miss America shouted, as she swooped down to deal with the Japanese sailors emerging from the subs. “I will see to the deck guns,” He replied. Neon the unknown flew low, circling the trio of subs, unleashing blasts of energy, which melted the on-deck guns, and scattering the sailors that had attempted to aim them at the mystery men. With her free hand, Miss America zapped, turning the water around the three subs into cement. She struggled to catch her breath, and then paused to run the back of her hand across her damp forehead. Her transport dipped erratically, bringing her within range of the sailors’ small arms fire. Feeling the heat of a passing bullet, uncomfortably close to her right temple, Miss America sent her unusual transport straight upwards. Its course wobbled slightly, and once out of range, Miss America sank to her knees. “Are you all right?” Neon asked, joining her. “Just felt a little light-headed,” She replied. “It’s been a busy couple days and I’m getting a crash course in the limits of my powers.” “Aren’t we all?” Neon said, with a small smile. “Find shelter. We have them contained.” From any of her other teammates, it would have sounded condescending and overprotective towards ‘the girl’ on the team, but Neon’s ethereal nature rendered it a sincere statement. Miss America nodded and guided her bird construct towards a hilly area of the island, which would have allowed her to keep an eye on the battle, while she recovered. The Red Torpedo raced through the water, picking off Japanese sailors, as he veered in close than, out of range. Bullets ‘pinged’ off the canopy and body of the mini-sub. The nautical mystery man split his attention between the battle, his dwindling ammunition supply and attempting to get his namesake craft’s radio system working. He thought he had the telegraph up and running and had been attempting to get a signal out to any nearby American naval craft in the area but was unsure if he was having any luck. The Freedom Fighters were keeping the three submarines contained but were in danger of being overwhelmed by their crews. “We...uh...winning...?” Magno asked, groggily. “We’re all still alive.” “Good...tha’s good.” “You okay, back there?” The Torpedo asked, glancing quickly over his shoulder. “Tired,” Magno replied. “Arms feel like...made outta wet cement. Not much help.” “You’ve done your part, fella,” The Red Torpedo replied, absently, concentrating on his steering. “Feel free to sleep through the rest of this...” He was interrupted as machine gun fire pebbled the hull of the mini-sub. “Though, how you can sleep through this, is beyond me...!” The Red Torpedo, Neon and Miss America flew around the trio of subs, dodging fire, while struggling to take out the deck guns and subdue the soldiers. With each blast, Neon dropped and had to struggle to keep in the air and out of gunfire range. Miss America swooped in, grabbed him and flew upwards. “We can’t last much longer,” she said, wearily. “If we could...what the...?” Down on the island, amongst the Japanese soldiers and sailors, was a figure, a familiar figure, clad all in brown. The Hood flickered in and out of sight, moving through the troops, frantically waving his arms. “That can’t be good,” Miss America muttered, pulling Neon’s arm over her shoulders and towing him through the air. With her free hand she summoned several energy flashes, unsure what was going on, but figuring that whatever it was, it was bad, and the Invisible Hood wanted them away from the beach. She was unsure if the Red Torpedo got the message. She was still wondering, when one of the Japanese submarines exploded! Miss America and Neon were caught in the blast and sent tumbling through the air. Dazed and battered, Miss America struggled to keep ahold of Neon, as they plummeted towards the rocky beach. At the last minute, she was able to generate a burst of transmuting energy and changed the boulder they were heading for into a mattress. “Ooof...!” She gasped, on impact. Miss America rolled over, trying to catch a glimpse of her teammates or some clue to what had happened. One of the subs had exploded, nearly destroying the other submarines. The beach was littered with the dead and wounded. Fighting to keep her eyes open, Miss America spotted the Red Torpedo, half submerged, far down the beach. The Freedom Fighters gathered around the mini sub, most leaning against it, tired and battered. “Did we win?” Neon asked, sliding down and sitting in the sand, with his back against the red torpedo. “I don’t know if it was ever about winning,” The Red Torpedo said, grimly, looking out at the carnage scattered across the beach and the ruin of the subs. “Anybody tell me what happened?” “Once the fighting started,” The Invisible Hood explained, suddenly appearing. “No one was too concerned with guarding the torpedo station...” “We in any shape to handle the stragglers?” Magno asked, unsteadily climbing out of the torpedo’s cockpit. “Still a lot of japs on their feet and they all have guns.” He cracked his knuckles. “Slow down, slugger,” The Red Torpedo said, pointing off in the distance, at the pair of American navy destroyers steaming their way. “Hooray for the calvary,” Miss America muttered. There was a brief , desperate skirmish, as the Freedom Fighters helped contain the Japanese, until the navy put troops on shore. The mystery men then all slumped around the Red Torpedo, watching the clean-up and expecting to be put back in custody. “Can’t believe we’re all still alive,” Miss America said, sitting on the sand, leaning against Magno’s broad shoulder. “Never been so happy to be wrong in my life,” The Magnetic man said, dozily. “We did good today,” The Red Torpedo added, from his perch on the nose of his mini-sub. “Hopefully, they’ll put us all in the same prison,” The Invisible Hood commented, grimly. “Looks like we’re about to find,” Neon said, nodding toward an approaching figure. A slim man, in military garb, with sandy blonde hair and glasses walked across the war-torn beach to the mystery men. “Do any of you need a medic?” He asked, concerned. “We are all just exhausted,” Miss America replied. “So, just put us in a quiet cell and we’ll be fine,” Magno said. “Actually,” The soldier said. “You fellas turned out to be right and may have saved the west coast from a devastating attack. I’m Corporal Thomas, and on behalf of the United States government, I would like to offer you a job.” “So, instead of going to jail, we’re being drafted...?”Neon asked. “What’s the difference?” The Hood mused. “In prison, the food’s better,” Magno chuckled. -------------------------------------------------- Author’s Note It’s the Freedom Fighters again! Just probably not the ones you were expecting. Blame Roy Thomas. It was All Star Squadron that turned me into an obsessive Earth 2/ Golden age heroes fan. I love all the little teams within the bigger All-Star Squadron and want to do stories with all of them. I always felt bad for that prototype Freedom Fighters team, with their one adventure. They seemed like an interesting line up with a lot of potential. Like with my other ‘First issue special’ stories, I have vague hopes of doing more with this team, but it all depends on audience response and my constantly hectic writing schedule. -Travis |