“What do you mean you lost him?”
Midway City was not known for its colorful criminals or its flagrant heroes. It was rarely the center of the media spotlight, and was not the springboard for technology or commerce in general. It was what many considered to be the average American city, filled with honest people that would put in an honest day’s work in exchange for relative peace.
It’s largest claim to fame was the museum, which had the good fortune to have been left sizable dowries from heavily invested donors, and therefore could attract the most popular exhibitions from around the world. It reputedly funded multiple largescale excavations and research expeditions throughout Africa, Asia, and Europe and was said to be the nerve center for revered historical restorations.
Midway City was precisely what it had been named for: a middle point between the past and the future, firmly resting in the present and relatively unknown throughout the United States.
At least, until the Hawk flew into town.
“I’m sorry!” a man wearing a cobalt blue and white uniform said as he leapt over a ventilation shaft. He trotted along the edge of a rooftop until he ran out of somewhere to put his feet, and then with the precision of an Olympic athlete, he somersaulted sideways to the adjacent roof. “I had to go to the bathroom!”
He was known as the Blue Beetle and he was a long way from home. Despite operating a technological juggernaut of a corporation, Ted Kord still toyed with being a vigilante. He had loved his time with the Justice League, where he had developed long lasting friendships. It was because of those friendships that he had felt obligated to come to Midway City.
As he ran across the top of buildings heading through downtown, a shimmering vixen floated closer to him, hovering in the air and keeping pace with him.
“You had one job to do, Ted!” the fabulous and famous Zatanna chided. “Just keep an eye on him until I got back. How hard is that?”
“When the guy you’re watching has augmented strength thanks to his pseudo-mystic harness, pretty freakin’ hard actually.”
Zatanna shot him a look, but the Blue Beetle could tell that there was no real malice behind it. They had been friends for years and taken on terrible, world-shattering events side by side. Tonight they had a common goal and they both knew that bickering wouldn’t solve the problem.
Zatanna poured on the speed, zooming by the Blue Beetle and ducking beneath a crane. Several buildings downtown were being reconstructed thanks to a recent altercation between its titular hero and one of the few aggressors that occasionally threatened the city.
Her own outfit was nearly the opposite of Kord’s. Between adventures with the Justice League, Zatanna traveled the world in her father’s shadow as a renowned stage magician. Thusly, she wore fishnet leggings and a tuxedo jacket with tails, and occasionally a top hat, which she had left behind since she needed to fly. What few of her audience realized was that her illusions weren’t the result of clever trickery, but rather powerful magic. The real kind.
“!dneirf wolloh ym etacoL” she shouted, and the magic at her command quickly built up inside her before rushing out into the night.
The tracking spell began working instantly, creating a path of sparkling incandescence that wove through the air. It twisted between buildings, showing them a clear trail to follow through the moonlit skyline.
Zatanna dove downward, following the trail. The Blue Beetle leapt after her, wishing that he had brought his bug airship with him so that he could more easily keep up with the magician. Instead he was forced to tail her on foot, which was problematic in Midway City. The buildings weren’t all as close together as he was used to.
As soon as she rounded the corner of a towering office building, Zatanna had her prey finally in sight. Perched atop an encroaching gargoyle was a man whose finely honed battle skills could prove deadly to virtually any adversary. While she had known him for a long time, and considered him an ally, it made no difference tonight.
Tonight, Hawkman could very well try and kill her.
She slowed her approach, coming to a halt in the air a few dozen feet from where he was kneeling on the stone statue. “Katar,” she said cautiously. “It’s me. Can you hear me?”
His massive wings were stretched out on either side of him, coupled to his back by the nth metal harness he wore around his profound bare chest. The alien metal had various properties that even she didn’t fully understand, but she understood that it granted its user heightened senses, enhanced strength, quick healing, and the ability of flight, among other things.
The hood of his notable hawk-like cowl covered his eyes and Zatanna couldn’t tell exactly what he was focused on. She knew that because of the nth metal that he could easily be looking at something miles away, or across the street. She had no way of knowing, but whatever it was he was clearly fixated on it.
“Katar?” she asked again, trying to get his attention but not even really knowing what to do with it once she had it.
Finally, Hawkman ripped his focus off of whatever had captivated him and stared directly at the hovering Zatanna. His lips parted, but no words spilled out. In fact, it didn’t even look like he was breathing.
“Yes, Katar,” she said. “It’s me. I’m a friend. I’m here to help you.”
He stared at her silently. His wings shifted slightly, adjusting for an updraft that zipped up the face of the building.
She hovered a little closer, her hand outstretched.
“Come back with me, Katar,” she said. “Together, maybe we can figure this out. I think I might have found a way to—”
Plink!
The nearly silent sound of a grappling hook wrapping around a fire escape ladder seemed to shatter whatever delicate connection she had established. Hawkman stood up quickly, flapped his wings, and dove for Zatanna with menace in his eyes. He screamed a battle cry that was devoid of compassion or sentiment, his hands outstretched to grip her throat.
The Blue Beetle pulled himself up onto the fire escape across the alleyway from Zatanna and Hawkman, realizing what was happening. “Crap!” he blurted out, and yanked a blue handgun off of his belt.
His BB gun, as he called it, had a variety of functions. He quickly flipped the setting on the back of the casing and leveled it at Hawkman, pressing the trigger without concern. A blast of compressed air that could flatten a rhino was unleashed, which knocked Hawkman’s trajectory out of alignment, saving Zatanna.
Hawkman quickly righted himself and pulled his wings in tightly, diving toward and away from the pair of friends. Zatanna shot Kord a look just long enough to let him know that she was royally upset, and then dove down after him.
“Get it together, Ted!” the Blue Beetle whispered to himself as he flipped over the fire escape railing and went after them, sliding down his grappling line like it was a fire pole.
As he chased after Zatanna and the mindless Hawkman, he wondered what they would actually do if they managed to catch up to him. Katar had proven that he could evade them, that he was faster and more agile than them, and that he was stronger than them. If there was anything left of his friend’s mind inside that muscular shell, he was also smarter than them when it came to this type of manhunt.
Ted knew that their only hope was that the Hawkman they had known was salvageable, but not in control of his faculties. If he was, then they were as good as dead should they manage to corner him again. It was the pure novice and confused nature he was displaying now that gave them a chance of catching him again.
“I wish Booster was here,” the Blue Beetle muttered.
# # #
“I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it!”
A middle-aged man wearing a checkered suit beneath a tan trench coat ran down the sidewalk, giggling to himself. He was so beside himself with glee that he nearly bumped into several passersby as he wove his way through downtown Midway City. More than a few stopped to yell at him, but when they heard him muttering to himself and saw the giant sneer on his face, they just kept walking. It wasn’t worth the trouble to argue with someone so determined to get somewhere.
“Never in a million years would I have thought it would actually work!” he continued with a laugh. “Oh, this is priceless. Just priceless!”
As he rounded a corner, he slammed into the back of someone much larger than him, someone who wouldn’t be swayed by his momentum or enthusiasm. The middle-aged man threw his arms back to brace himself as he fell, and once he hit the sidewalk pavement the pockets of his coat exploded as dozens of heavy coins spilled everywhere.
“What! Oh, dear!” he exclaimed as he struggled to his knees and began to furiously collect the coins. There were coins of all sizes, and even some of different shapes, indicating foreign currency.
He was completely and utterly fascinated with coins and they had proven to be very lucrative for him and his criminal endeavors. He could just never seem to part with his favorites, however, no matter the value.
“What the hell are you doing?” the guy he had slammed into proclaimed. “Holy—look at all those? Are you some kind of collector?”
“A collector *ha!*, yes. Of sorts *hee hee!*”
The man turned to two of his friends he was with on the street, whispering. They both laughed and the man turned back with a smile on his face. “Let me help you up, buddy,” he said.
“Thank you, yes, thank you kindly.” Taking the offered hand, the middle-aged man stood up. “Must be on my way. I have an appointment to keep.”
As he made to leave, the guy placed his thick hand on the man’s chest, halting him. “Hold on a second,” the guy said. “Don’t you owe me something? You know, for bumping into me like that?”
The middle-aged man dropped his cheerful expression. “Pardon me?”
The two men behind them laughed. The guy looked over his shoulder at them for a moment before turning his attention back to the middle-aged man. “I’m saying I think it was pretty rude of you to just bump into me, and now you’re taking off.”
“What, exactly, do you think you’re entitled to receive?”
“Well…you have an awful lot of loose change in those pockets. Those pockets look pretty weighed down. Maybe your balance is all thrown off and that’s why you were so disrespectful.”
“Disrespectful?”
The guy’s smile broadened. “Yeah! I mean, you wouldn’t normally run around assaulting people, right? Especially not someone like me.”
“And who are you, precisely?”
He laughed. “I’m the guy that’s going to kick your ass if you don’t give me those coins. You’re some kind of collector, right? So I bet you probably have some rare stuff in your pockets. Hand it over.”
The muscle below the middle-aged man’s right eye twitched twice. He blinked and looked like he was making a decision. After a moment, he stepped back, smiled, and reached into an inside pocket on his checkered suit jacket. He extracted a coin larger than average, about the size of his palm, and gladly held it up for the man and his friends to see.
“Of course! Yes, yes. Tell you what. This coin is one of a kind. Take it. It’s yours. And with it please also accept my humble apologies.”
The man snatched the heavy coin and stared at it. “That’s more like it. What is this anyway?”
The middle-aged man stepped around the trio of men looking at their newfound treasure, putting a little distance between himself and them. “You’ll never see another one like it,” he shouted.
Once he was a dozen feet away he tapped a button on his wristwatch. Behind him, the heavy coin exploded and the three men fawning over it were torn apart at their very seams. The middle-aged man’s trench coat flapped from the force of the explosion, but he paid it no mind. He had somewhere to be at the moment.
In fact, he was quiet pleased with himself. That was a new C4 compound he had mixed into the nickel and aluminum casting and he was happy to see that heavy metals didn’t interfere with receiving radio signals. His trick coins wouldn’t be very effectively if he couldn’t send a detonation command.
Oh, he prized his coin collection. In fact, coins were his very life. He was completely dedicated to them and had even modeled his criminal career after them. He hadn’t been very lucrative or even famous, but as The Coin, criminal mastermind, he had developed the confidence he needed to commit incredible acts. He had even fought against the city’s hero, Hawkman, on several occasions.
Having glanced at his watch when murdering the three men behind him, who were now nothing more than stains on the sidewalk, he realized that he was now running late. He doubled his pace and was glad to see that this destination was in sight.
Checking to make sure he wasn’t being watched, The Coin ducked between two buildings beneath an overheard sign that read, ‘MIDWAY STORAGE COMPANY.’ The spacious warehouse had fallen victim to the economy, like so many of its ilk. As e-commerce commended, traditional storage and shipping seemed to dwindle.
A few empty crates long forgotten were stacked in one corner, with the rest of the large warehouse now storing nothing but graffiti and cigarette butts. The Coin entered slowly, making sure to take in all of his surroundings so as not to repeat that morning’s events. He could barely contain his excitement, though, and had to suppress his giggles as he searched for his accomplice.
“James?” he finally shouted out. There seemed to be no one there but him, which was disconcerting. Glancing at his watch he knew he was now late. “Ghost, where are you?”
He half expected to turn around and see the Gentleman Ghost floating right behind him. James Craddock, the Gentleman Ghost, relished in his haunting abilities. It would be just like him to silently slink his spectral form up behind The Coin and give him a scare. Even though he called himself a gentleman, occasionally he seemed nothing more than an adolescent with too much power.
The Coin turned around, but no one was there.
“James?” he called out again, but still there was no answer.
The Coin looked around the warehouse, cautiously turning in place and trying to look into every corner of the gigantic room. “It worked!” he added, hoping to entice his accomplice. “The Genēh worked! Hawkman won’t be foiling our plans anytime soon. *Hee hee!* I imagine he’s just sitting at home, molting! *HA!*”
Still, no response.
The Coin was beginning to grow aggravated. Up to this point, it had been him who had carried the lion’s share of their plan to fruition. He had been the one to identify the rare coin, he had been the one who had stolen it, and with a bit of help from Craddock, he had been the one who had ultimately defeated their foe.
It was annoyingly rude that the Gentleman Ghost was nowhere to be seen at the moment. It was offensive enough that he started to think of ways to use his trick coins to do a little damage, perhaps teach a little lesson, to the Ghost.
He would just have to actually find him first.
# # #
“Have a good night, Shiera!”
Shayera Hol would likely never grow accustomed to her anglicized Earth name. She had been a proud warrior, a devoted wife, and a steadfast worker. There was a lot of power in a name, especially on her home planet of Thanagar. She should never have agreed to change her name to better fit in when they came to Earth, but she had, and now here she was.
Alone.
She casually tossed a smile and a wave over her shoulder to her co-worker. She knew that she shouldn’t complain. The Midway City Museum of Natural History had become her home away from home. While it had first served as nothing more than a cover for her and her husband, the noble Katar Hol, acting as a curator had brought her much closer to the human earthlings than she ever thought possible.
As she stepped down the dozen or so concrete steps at the museum's entrance, her thoughts once more drifted to her husband. She looked skyward, half expecting him to come swooping down. Perhaps after getting back to their apartment, she would don her own wings and take to the skies. Since Katar had disappeared two weeks ago, her work at the museum was the only thing she chose to fill her time with, but perhaps it was time to get airborne again.
Katar was her life partner, her husband, and her confidant. After he had vanished, she feared the worse and had enlisted the help of former friends whom they both trusted. Ted had called her that morning and left a message to say that they might have some exciting news, but she hadn’t been able to get a hold of either Ted or Zatanna since then.
She hated this waiting. She hated not being able to do much of anything other than mindlessly search the same areas of the city again and again. They had certain perches throughout Midway City that they both enjoyed, but Katar had left no evidence of having been at any of them within the last two weeks.
Shayera was beginning to get worried. A worried warrior was not a good thing to be. She found herself longing for her nth metal harness, but having thrown herself into her work to distract her from her missing husband, she had more research to do at home that evening.
Riding the bus felt silly, given that with her harness she could rip through the clouds like a fighter jet, but it was all a part of being Shiera Hall, and therefore, part of her distraction. She found solace in being Shiera these days, because as Shayera or the courageous Hawkwoman she could easily become consumed in concern, doubt, and uneasiness.
The bus rumbled along the main street that bisected the city, stopping every other block to pick up or drop off passengers. She stared through the window, her red hair tossed over her shoulder, trying her best to be calm.
SMASH!
The entire bus jolted forward suddenly, like it had struck an immovable object. The driver screamed in surprise and terror, his focus fixed on whatever he had hit. There were only two other people riding the bus with her; an old woman who had slumped down onto the floor thanks to the momentum and a teenage boy who likewise was now in the aisle.
Shayera leapt out of her own seat and raced to the front of the bus, ready to help other accident victims if it came to that. She could see that the entire front had buckled in, like the bus had driven full steam into a telephone poll or fireplug. The glass had web-like cracks running through it and was knocked inward, but hadn’t shattered.
“What happened?” she asked the driver. “Are you okay?”
The man was obviously shaken and it took Shayera’s hand on his shoulder to finally get his attention. The fear in his eyes was evident, but he didn’t look like he had been harmed by the sudden accident.
“Where did he come from?” the driver asked her. “He wasn’t there a second ago, I swear. Like he done fall out of the sky.”
She looked at him quizzically and then tried to peer through the broken windshield to see exactly what they had struck. The darkness mixed with the twisted glass made it impossible to see anything more than the glare street lamps.
She smacked the door release and stomped down the three steps to the street, feeling a burst of chilly night air. She cautiously stepped around the front of the bus and saw the thing the immovable object bus had slammed into. Or rather, not so much a thing as it was a person.
“Katar…?” she breathed out.
The muscular form of her husband had arms extended into the grill of the bus, his biceps bulging. His wings were pulled back and pointing away so that his upper body looked streamlined. Despite having apparently dropped down in front of a moving vehicle, and using his nth metal-enhanced strength to stop it with his bare hands, he there wasn’t a scratch on him.
For a split second she wasn’t sure it was even him, but she recognized the scars across his shoulders and abdominal muscles. She had been at his side for nearly every one of them and could attest to their authenticity.
“Katar!” she called out and stepped closer to him, but she stopped herself just as quickly. Something was wrong. For some reason she couldn’t quite place, for some unknown factor in the recesses of her mind, she knew that this man was a danger to her.
Hawkman extracted his hands from the bus’s engine and stood upright, turning to look at Shayera. Behind his avian cowl there was nothing in his eyes; no character, no recognition, and no semblance of humanity. They were cold and calculating, like a predator.
Just as Shayera took a step backward, Hawkman lunged for her.
In the same instant, a golden halo of energy wrapped itself around his arms and legs, snapping tightly and keeping him locked into place. He struggled, never taking his gaze off of Shayera. He looked completely crazed, like a lion that had been kept back from a fresh kill.
“What in the name of—” Shayera began to say.
“Get back!” someone shouted from above, and she looked up to see the scantily dressed performer and expert magician, Zatanna, descending through the air for them. “Stay away from him!”
“Zatanna? What’s going on? You found him! But why is he—”
“Shayera?” the magician replied as she descended. “Why are you…of course! He must have sought you out. Your nth metal harnesses wreaks havoc with my spell casting. My tracking spell must been absorbed by his harness, pushing him to track down what he most desired.”
Shayera shook her head, not ready to take in all of the information that was thrusting itself into her mind. “Where did you find him?” she demanded. “And why is he so…primal?”
Zatanna took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s a difficult story to tell. Shayera, we need to get him back to your place before we get into what’s going on here. We’re too exposed out here. The people that did this to him will—”
A sizzling snap of energy and an outpouring of heat from Hawkman cut her off. The binding spell had been broken, whether due to his strength or the properties of his harness, Zatanna had no idea. The only thing she did know was that a now soulless warrior determined to get them was spreading his wings and getting ready to leap.
She barely had enough time to utter a few syllables before Hawkman burst at them, menace in his eyes…
TO BE CONTINUED
Midway City was not known for its colorful criminals or its flagrant heroes. It was rarely the center of the media spotlight, and was not the springboard for technology or commerce in general. It was what many considered to be the average American city, filled with honest people that would put in an honest day’s work in exchange for relative peace.
It’s largest claim to fame was the museum, which had the good fortune to have been left sizable dowries from heavily invested donors, and therefore could attract the most popular exhibitions from around the world. It reputedly funded multiple largescale excavations and research expeditions throughout Africa, Asia, and Europe and was said to be the nerve center for revered historical restorations.
Midway City was precisely what it had been named for: a middle point between the past and the future, firmly resting in the present and relatively unknown throughout the United States.
At least, until the Hawk flew into town.
“I’m sorry!” a man wearing a cobalt blue and white uniform said as he leapt over a ventilation shaft. He trotted along the edge of a rooftop until he ran out of somewhere to put his feet, and then with the precision of an Olympic athlete, he somersaulted sideways to the adjacent roof. “I had to go to the bathroom!”
He was known as the Blue Beetle and he was a long way from home. Despite operating a technological juggernaut of a corporation, Ted Kord still toyed with being a vigilante. He had loved his time with the Justice League, where he had developed long lasting friendships. It was because of those friendships that he had felt obligated to come to Midway City.
As he ran across the top of buildings heading through downtown, a shimmering vixen floated closer to him, hovering in the air and keeping pace with him.
“You had one job to do, Ted!” the fabulous and famous Zatanna chided. “Just keep an eye on him until I got back. How hard is that?”
“When the guy you’re watching has augmented strength thanks to his pseudo-mystic harness, pretty freakin’ hard actually.”
Zatanna shot him a look, but the Blue Beetle could tell that there was no real malice behind it. They had been friends for years and taken on terrible, world-shattering events side by side. Tonight they had a common goal and they both knew that bickering wouldn’t solve the problem.
Zatanna poured on the speed, zooming by the Blue Beetle and ducking beneath a crane. Several buildings downtown were being reconstructed thanks to a recent altercation between its titular hero and one of the few aggressors that occasionally threatened the city.
Her own outfit was nearly the opposite of Kord’s. Between adventures with the Justice League, Zatanna traveled the world in her father’s shadow as a renowned stage magician. Thusly, she wore fishnet leggings and a tuxedo jacket with tails, and occasionally a top hat, which she had left behind since she needed to fly. What few of her audience realized was that her illusions weren’t the result of clever trickery, but rather powerful magic. The real kind.
“!dneirf wolloh ym etacoL” she shouted, and the magic at her command quickly built up inside her before rushing out into the night.
The tracking spell began working instantly, creating a path of sparkling incandescence that wove through the air. It twisted between buildings, showing them a clear trail to follow through the moonlit skyline.
Zatanna dove downward, following the trail. The Blue Beetle leapt after her, wishing that he had brought his bug airship with him so that he could more easily keep up with the magician. Instead he was forced to tail her on foot, which was problematic in Midway City. The buildings weren’t all as close together as he was used to.
As soon as she rounded the corner of a towering office building, Zatanna had her prey finally in sight. Perched atop an encroaching gargoyle was a man whose finely honed battle skills could prove deadly to virtually any adversary. While she had known him for a long time, and considered him an ally, it made no difference tonight.
Tonight, Hawkman could very well try and kill her.
She slowed her approach, coming to a halt in the air a few dozen feet from where he was kneeling on the stone statue. “Katar,” she said cautiously. “It’s me. Can you hear me?”
His massive wings were stretched out on either side of him, coupled to his back by the nth metal harness he wore around his profound bare chest. The alien metal had various properties that even she didn’t fully understand, but she understood that it granted its user heightened senses, enhanced strength, quick healing, and the ability of flight, among other things.
The hood of his notable hawk-like cowl covered his eyes and Zatanna couldn’t tell exactly what he was focused on. She knew that because of the nth metal that he could easily be looking at something miles away, or across the street. She had no way of knowing, but whatever it was he was clearly fixated on it.
“Katar?” she asked again, trying to get his attention but not even really knowing what to do with it once she had it.
Finally, Hawkman ripped his focus off of whatever had captivated him and stared directly at the hovering Zatanna. His lips parted, but no words spilled out. In fact, it didn’t even look like he was breathing.
“Yes, Katar,” she said. “It’s me. I’m a friend. I’m here to help you.”
He stared at her silently. His wings shifted slightly, adjusting for an updraft that zipped up the face of the building.
She hovered a little closer, her hand outstretched.
“Come back with me, Katar,” she said. “Together, maybe we can figure this out. I think I might have found a way to—”
Plink!
The nearly silent sound of a grappling hook wrapping around a fire escape ladder seemed to shatter whatever delicate connection she had established. Hawkman stood up quickly, flapped his wings, and dove for Zatanna with menace in his eyes. He screamed a battle cry that was devoid of compassion or sentiment, his hands outstretched to grip her throat.
The Blue Beetle pulled himself up onto the fire escape across the alleyway from Zatanna and Hawkman, realizing what was happening. “Crap!” he blurted out, and yanked a blue handgun off of his belt.
His BB gun, as he called it, had a variety of functions. He quickly flipped the setting on the back of the casing and leveled it at Hawkman, pressing the trigger without concern. A blast of compressed air that could flatten a rhino was unleashed, which knocked Hawkman’s trajectory out of alignment, saving Zatanna.
Hawkman quickly righted himself and pulled his wings in tightly, diving toward and away from the pair of friends. Zatanna shot Kord a look just long enough to let him know that she was royally upset, and then dove down after him.
“Get it together, Ted!” the Blue Beetle whispered to himself as he flipped over the fire escape railing and went after them, sliding down his grappling line like it was a fire pole.
As he chased after Zatanna and the mindless Hawkman, he wondered what they would actually do if they managed to catch up to him. Katar had proven that he could evade them, that he was faster and more agile than them, and that he was stronger than them. If there was anything left of his friend’s mind inside that muscular shell, he was also smarter than them when it came to this type of manhunt.
Ted knew that their only hope was that the Hawkman they had known was salvageable, but not in control of his faculties. If he was, then they were as good as dead should they manage to corner him again. It was the pure novice and confused nature he was displaying now that gave them a chance of catching him again.
“I wish Booster was here,” the Blue Beetle muttered.
# # #
“I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it!”
A middle-aged man wearing a checkered suit beneath a tan trench coat ran down the sidewalk, giggling to himself. He was so beside himself with glee that he nearly bumped into several passersby as he wove his way through downtown Midway City. More than a few stopped to yell at him, but when they heard him muttering to himself and saw the giant sneer on his face, they just kept walking. It wasn’t worth the trouble to argue with someone so determined to get somewhere.
“Never in a million years would I have thought it would actually work!” he continued with a laugh. “Oh, this is priceless. Just priceless!”
As he rounded a corner, he slammed into the back of someone much larger than him, someone who wouldn’t be swayed by his momentum or enthusiasm. The middle-aged man threw his arms back to brace himself as he fell, and once he hit the sidewalk pavement the pockets of his coat exploded as dozens of heavy coins spilled everywhere.
“What! Oh, dear!” he exclaimed as he struggled to his knees and began to furiously collect the coins. There were coins of all sizes, and even some of different shapes, indicating foreign currency.
He was completely and utterly fascinated with coins and they had proven to be very lucrative for him and his criminal endeavors. He could just never seem to part with his favorites, however, no matter the value.
“What the hell are you doing?” the guy he had slammed into proclaimed. “Holy—look at all those? Are you some kind of collector?”
“A collector *ha!*, yes. Of sorts *hee hee!*”
The man turned to two of his friends he was with on the street, whispering. They both laughed and the man turned back with a smile on his face. “Let me help you up, buddy,” he said.
“Thank you, yes, thank you kindly.” Taking the offered hand, the middle-aged man stood up. “Must be on my way. I have an appointment to keep.”
As he made to leave, the guy placed his thick hand on the man’s chest, halting him. “Hold on a second,” the guy said. “Don’t you owe me something? You know, for bumping into me like that?”
The middle-aged man dropped his cheerful expression. “Pardon me?”
The two men behind them laughed. The guy looked over his shoulder at them for a moment before turning his attention back to the middle-aged man. “I’m saying I think it was pretty rude of you to just bump into me, and now you’re taking off.”
“What, exactly, do you think you’re entitled to receive?”
“Well…you have an awful lot of loose change in those pockets. Those pockets look pretty weighed down. Maybe your balance is all thrown off and that’s why you were so disrespectful.”
“Disrespectful?”
The guy’s smile broadened. “Yeah! I mean, you wouldn’t normally run around assaulting people, right? Especially not someone like me.”
“And who are you, precisely?”
He laughed. “I’m the guy that’s going to kick your ass if you don’t give me those coins. You’re some kind of collector, right? So I bet you probably have some rare stuff in your pockets. Hand it over.”
The muscle below the middle-aged man’s right eye twitched twice. He blinked and looked like he was making a decision. After a moment, he stepped back, smiled, and reached into an inside pocket on his checkered suit jacket. He extracted a coin larger than average, about the size of his palm, and gladly held it up for the man and his friends to see.
“Of course! Yes, yes. Tell you what. This coin is one of a kind. Take it. It’s yours. And with it please also accept my humble apologies.”
The man snatched the heavy coin and stared at it. “That’s more like it. What is this anyway?”
The middle-aged man stepped around the trio of men looking at their newfound treasure, putting a little distance between himself and them. “You’ll never see another one like it,” he shouted.
Once he was a dozen feet away he tapped a button on his wristwatch. Behind him, the heavy coin exploded and the three men fawning over it were torn apart at their very seams. The middle-aged man’s trench coat flapped from the force of the explosion, but he paid it no mind. He had somewhere to be at the moment.
In fact, he was quiet pleased with himself. That was a new C4 compound he had mixed into the nickel and aluminum casting and he was happy to see that heavy metals didn’t interfere with receiving radio signals. His trick coins wouldn’t be very effectively if he couldn’t send a detonation command.
Oh, he prized his coin collection. In fact, coins were his very life. He was completely dedicated to them and had even modeled his criminal career after them. He hadn’t been very lucrative or even famous, but as The Coin, criminal mastermind, he had developed the confidence he needed to commit incredible acts. He had even fought against the city’s hero, Hawkman, on several occasions.
Having glanced at his watch when murdering the three men behind him, who were now nothing more than stains on the sidewalk, he realized that he was now running late. He doubled his pace and was glad to see that this destination was in sight.
Checking to make sure he wasn’t being watched, The Coin ducked between two buildings beneath an overheard sign that read, ‘MIDWAY STORAGE COMPANY.’ The spacious warehouse had fallen victim to the economy, like so many of its ilk. As e-commerce commended, traditional storage and shipping seemed to dwindle.
A few empty crates long forgotten were stacked in one corner, with the rest of the large warehouse now storing nothing but graffiti and cigarette butts. The Coin entered slowly, making sure to take in all of his surroundings so as not to repeat that morning’s events. He could barely contain his excitement, though, and had to suppress his giggles as he searched for his accomplice.
“James?” he finally shouted out. There seemed to be no one there but him, which was disconcerting. Glancing at his watch he knew he was now late. “Ghost, where are you?”
He half expected to turn around and see the Gentleman Ghost floating right behind him. James Craddock, the Gentleman Ghost, relished in his haunting abilities. It would be just like him to silently slink his spectral form up behind The Coin and give him a scare. Even though he called himself a gentleman, occasionally he seemed nothing more than an adolescent with too much power.
The Coin turned around, but no one was there.
“James?” he called out again, but still there was no answer.
The Coin looked around the warehouse, cautiously turning in place and trying to look into every corner of the gigantic room. “It worked!” he added, hoping to entice his accomplice. “The Genēh worked! Hawkman won’t be foiling our plans anytime soon. *Hee hee!* I imagine he’s just sitting at home, molting! *HA!*”
Still, no response.
The Coin was beginning to grow aggravated. Up to this point, it had been him who had carried the lion’s share of their plan to fruition. He had been the one to identify the rare coin, he had been the one who had stolen it, and with a bit of help from Craddock, he had been the one who had ultimately defeated their foe.
It was annoyingly rude that the Gentleman Ghost was nowhere to be seen at the moment. It was offensive enough that he started to think of ways to use his trick coins to do a little damage, perhaps teach a little lesson, to the Ghost.
He would just have to actually find him first.
# # #
“Have a good night, Shiera!”
Shayera Hol would likely never grow accustomed to her anglicized Earth name. She had been a proud warrior, a devoted wife, and a steadfast worker. There was a lot of power in a name, especially on her home planet of Thanagar. She should never have agreed to change her name to better fit in when they came to Earth, but she had, and now here she was.
Alone.
She casually tossed a smile and a wave over her shoulder to her co-worker. She knew that she shouldn’t complain. The Midway City Museum of Natural History had become her home away from home. While it had first served as nothing more than a cover for her and her husband, the noble Katar Hol, acting as a curator had brought her much closer to the human earthlings than she ever thought possible.
As she stepped down the dozen or so concrete steps at the museum's entrance, her thoughts once more drifted to her husband. She looked skyward, half expecting him to come swooping down. Perhaps after getting back to their apartment, she would don her own wings and take to the skies. Since Katar had disappeared two weeks ago, her work at the museum was the only thing she chose to fill her time with, but perhaps it was time to get airborne again.
Katar was her life partner, her husband, and her confidant. After he had vanished, she feared the worse and had enlisted the help of former friends whom they both trusted. Ted had called her that morning and left a message to say that they might have some exciting news, but she hadn’t been able to get a hold of either Ted or Zatanna since then.
She hated this waiting. She hated not being able to do much of anything other than mindlessly search the same areas of the city again and again. They had certain perches throughout Midway City that they both enjoyed, but Katar had left no evidence of having been at any of them within the last two weeks.
Shayera was beginning to get worried. A worried warrior was not a good thing to be. She found herself longing for her nth metal harness, but having thrown herself into her work to distract her from her missing husband, she had more research to do at home that evening.
Riding the bus felt silly, given that with her harness she could rip through the clouds like a fighter jet, but it was all a part of being Shiera Hall, and therefore, part of her distraction. She found solace in being Shiera these days, because as Shayera or the courageous Hawkwoman she could easily become consumed in concern, doubt, and uneasiness.
The bus rumbled along the main street that bisected the city, stopping every other block to pick up or drop off passengers. She stared through the window, her red hair tossed over her shoulder, trying her best to be calm.
SMASH!
The entire bus jolted forward suddenly, like it had struck an immovable object. The driver screamed in surprise and terror, his focus fixed on whatever he had hit. There were only two other people riding the bus with her; an old woman who had slumped down onto the floor thanks to the momentum and a teenage boy who likewise was now in the aisle.
Shayera leapt out of her own seat and raced to the front of the bus, ready to help other accident victims if it came to that. She could see that the entire front had buckled in, like the bus had driven full steam into a telephone poll or fireplug. The glass had web-like cracks running through it and was knocked inward, but hadn’t shattered.
“What happened?” she asked the driver. “Are you okay?”
The man was obviously shaken and it took Shayera’s hand on his shoulder to finally get his attention. The fear in his eyes was evident, but he didn’t look like he had been harmed by the sudden accident.
“Where did he come from?” the driver asked her. “He wasn’t there a second ago, I swear. Like he done fall out of the sky.”
She looked at him quizzically and then tried to peer through the broken windshield to see exactly what they had struck. The darkness mixed with the twisted glass made it impossible to see anything more than the glare street lamps.
She smacked the door release and stomped down the three steps to the street, feeling a burst of chilly night air. She cautiously stepped around the front of the bus and saw the thing the immovable object bus had slammed into. Or rather, not so much a thing as it was a person.
“Katar…?” she breathed out.
The muscular form of her husband had arms extended into the grill of the bus, his biceps bulging. His wings were pulled back and pointing away so that his upper body looked streamlined. Despite having apparently dropped down in front of a moving vehicle, and using his nth metal-enhanced strength to stop it with his bare hands, he there wasn’t a scratch on him.
For a split second she wasn’t sure it was even him, but she recognized the scars across his shoulders and abdominal muscles. She had been at his side for nearly every one of them and could attest to their authenticity.
“Katar!” she called out and stepped closer to him, but she stopped herself just as quickly. Something was wrong. For some reason she couldn’t quite place, for some unknown factor in the recesses of her mind, she knew that this man was a danger to her.
Hawkman extracted his hands from the bus’s engine and stood upright, turning to look at Shayera. Behind his avian cowl there was nothing in his eyes; no character, no recognition, and no semblance of humanity. They were cold and calculating, like a predator.
Just as Shayera took a step backward, Hawkman lunged for her.
In the same instant, a golden halo of energy wrapped itself around his arms and legs, snapping tightly and keeping him locked into place. He struggled, never taking his gaze off of Shayera. He looked completely crazed, like a lion that had been kept back from a fresh kill.
“What in the name of—” Shayera began to say.
“Get back!” someone shouted from above, and she looked up to see the scantily dressed performer and expert magician, Zatanna, descending through the air for them. “Stay away from him!”
“Zatanna? What’s going on? You found him! But why is he—”
“Shayera?” the magician replied as she descended. “Why are you…of course! He must have sought you out. Your nth metal harnesses wreaks havoc with my spell casting. My tracking spell must been absorbed by his harness, pushing him to track down what he most desired.”
Shayera shook her head, not ready to take in all of the information that was thrusting itself into her mind. “Where did you find him?” she demanded. “And why is he so…primal?”
Zatanna took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s a difficult story to tell. Shayera, we need to get him back to your place before we get into what’s going on here. We’re too exposed out here. The people that did this to him will—”
A sizzling snap of energy and an outpouring of heat from Hawkman cut her off. The binding spell had been broken, whether due to his strength or the properties of his harness, Zatanna had no idea. The only thing she did know was that a now soulless warrior determined to get them was spreading his wings and getting ready to leap.
She barely had enough time to utter a few syllables before Hawkman burst at them, menace in his eyes…
TO BE CONTINUED