'' Disappointingly, the trail led to a literal dead end. A high concrete wall, topped by concertina wire, blocked their path. A sizable heap of mud, large enough to fill a wheelbarrow or two, was deposited at the base of the wall. Bats Suck! was scrawled on the dirty concrete. Jokers Rule! Mary could easily fly over or smash through the barrier, of course, but that wasn’t the point. Their quarry had given them the slip.
“End of the line,” the Riddler remarked, stating the obvious. He slipped past Mary to examine the mound of mud. Extracting a customized green and purple pencil from his pocket, he poked the gunk experimentally. “Although, you know, I’m beginning to suspect that this isn’t actually mud at all.”
Mary eyed him suspiciously. Was he just stringing her along for some reason? “Okay, Sherlock, what is it?”
Before he could answer, the pencil was sucked from his grasp. He jumped back from the quivering sludge as it suddenly came to life before their eyes. The amorphous muck rose up from the pavement to take on a vaguely humanoid form. Beady red eyes ogled Mary from a crude approximation of a face. A pair of pulsating slits provided a mere suggestion of a nose. The mouth was just an open gash beneath the nostrils. Rows of jagged ceramic shards gnashed together like teeth. Broken pieces of pencil were spat onto the ground. A phlegmy voice answered Mary’s question.
“Clay!”
Of course! Mary kicked herself for not figuring it out earlier. The being before her was one of Batman’s most freakish foes, a malleable mass of malevolence that had once been an unscrupulous treasure hunter named Matt Hagen. Now better known as ...
“Clayface!”
“You bet, honey!” the villain gurgled. Drawing the excess sludge back into his person, he expanded until he towered over both Mary and the Riddler. The self-proclaimed sleuth scurried behind Mary, shamelessly using her as a shield. Clayface oozed forward menacingly. ‘Too bad you and Nigma couldn’t leave well enough alone!”
Clayface surged at them like a tidal wave, engulfing them in a flood of viscous muck, which clung to Mary like a sticky mixture of quicksand and wet cement. The loathsome avalanche tore the Riddler away from her. He flailed wildly, struggling to keep his head above the suffocating clay. “Mary!” he squealed like the rat that he was. “Where are you?”
“Here!” The squishy clay was everywhere, in her hair, on her face, enveloping her entire body. She swallowed a mouthful by mistake, and gagged in disgust. Clayface tasted worse than the mud pies she had crafted as a child. She coughed up the gritty sludge. “I’m here ... and I’m not happy!”
That was putting it mildly. First dead babies, she thought, now this! The clay hardened around her like concrete, squeezing her tightly. Wet goo seeped into her gloves and boots. It felt cold and damp against her skin. When did bad guys get so gross?
“You should have stayed outta Gotham, babe!” Clay-
ElffllfBaWM 89
face gloated in her ear. “You ain’t dirty enough for this town!”
“Is that so?” Mary said, her temper flaring. “We’ll see about that!”
Enough was enough. Exerting her strength, she broke loose of Clayface’s slimy embrace, sending broken chunks of clay in all directions. Bellowing wetly, the monster hurled a glutinous fist at her, but she deftly evaded the punch so that it splattered uselessly against the wall behind her. Taking to the air, she yanked the Riddler free as well and tossed him, none too gently, out of harm’s way. The empty cardboard shelter cushioned his landing, which Mary figured was probably more than he deserved. “Atta girl, Mary!” he cheered her on from the sidelines. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back!”
Yeah, right, Mary thought.
* She didn’t waste another moment on her worthless partner. There was a bigger mess that needed to be cleaned up right now.
“Think you can sucker punch Mary Marvel, Clay-face?” Calling upon the speed of Hera, as well as Isis’s divine mastery of the winds, she flew circles around Clay-face at faster and faster speeds, until she generated a whirling cyclone that sucked up every last clump of the monster’s gelatinous substance, along with any nearby trash. Clayface raged inside the spinning vortex, but his profane threats were drowned out by the roaring whirlwind, which lifted him off the ground and sent him rocketing into orbit. “Wrong!”
Slowing to a more leisurely pace, Mary dismissed the turbulent winds. A canvas bag crashed to the ground in the tornado’s wake. Coins, greenbacks, and expensive jewelry spilled onto the floor of the alley, immediately attracting the Riddler’s attention. “Case closed, Mary!” he chortled gleefully. “I’ve uncovered the loot!”
“And I shot Clayface into outer space,” she replied, unimpressed by her partner’s dubious achievement. She landed nimbly on the pavement and wiped a few leftover traces of Clayface from her face and costume. Cut off from the monster’s animating intelligence, the remaining clumps of clay flaked off her easily. One of her new outfit’s many magical properties, she had come to realize, was its preternatural ability to repel dirt and other stains. Guess the gods want me looking my best.
“Outer space?” the Riddler parroted. He glanced up at the heavens. Mary noticed that the billowing black smoke was already beginning to disperse; apparently Gotham’s Bravest already had the fire under control. “A bit extreme, don’t you think?”
“Was it?” The question gave her pause; to be honest, she had hurled Clayface into orbit without even thinking about it. “Was that too much?” She felt a twinge of guilt. Despite his monstrous appearance, Matt Hagen wasn’t actually a soulless demon like Pharyngula, just a bizarrely ' ftiutated human being. Maybe she should have gone easier on him?
Then again, an inner voice soothed her conscience, it’s not like he didn ’t have it coming.
“No biggie,” she insisted, more to herself than to the Riddler. “He’s just dirt, and dirt will fall back to Earth sooner or later.”
“Maybe,” Nigma replied, not sounding entirely convinced. Unlike her, his once-dapper outfit was now liberally coated with damp clay. He wiped his filthy hands on his trousers and straightened his tie. “Certainly, Hagen has proved ridiculously durable over the years. And yet... I’ve spent enough time around Arkham to recognize when someone is out of control. And I’m not talking about Clayface.”
Billy said the same thing about me, Mary recalled uncomfortably, after I trashed that demon. She shrugged, trying to pretend that the Riddler’s snide remark hadn’t hit a nerve. The smug former villain was the last person she wanted to confide in. “I admit that I don’t really know my own strength anymore.”
The Riddler smiled slyly, like she wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already figured out on his own. “If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion,” he said, pushing his luck, “perhaps you should consider seeking a mentor? Maybe someone who specializes in magic ... or perhaps anger management?”
29 AND CODNTING.
• THE NANDVERSE.
Molecules loomed like small moons as Donna Troy and her new companions began their search for Ray Palmer. Encased in a transparent sphere of shimmering energy, courtesy of the Monitor’s virtually unlimited technology, they shrank in size much as the Atom himself once did, discovering a whole new realm of existence at the subatomic level. Outside the sphere, electrons whizzed about spinning nuclei, looking like sparking comets. Atoms of various shapes and sizes collided with each other, sometimes linking to form larger molecules that resembled elaborate glowing constellations. Everything was in constant motion. Quantum particles blinked in and out of existence according to the capricious laws of probability. Donna thought she saw an asteroid-sized atom of oxygen suck two smaller hydrogen atoms into its orbit, forming a single molecule of water, but she couldn’t be sure. Chemistry had never been her strong suit.
Is this what atoms and molecules really look like at this scale, she wondered, or is my brain just processing all this bizarre sensory input into images I can sort of compre-
eauuTDowN si
hend? She suspected t
he latter; human eyes weren’t built to see the world this way. We’ve probably already shrunk beyond the wavelengths of visible light.
“So where exactly are we supposed to be going again?” Jason Todd asked. He tapped his foot impatiently against the floor of the sphere, seemingly unimpressed by the mind-boggling sceneiy outside. “And how are we supposed to find the Atom in all this sci-fi craziness?”
Donna guessed that Jason was feeling out of his element. He was more used to beating up crooks in Gotham than embarking on microscopic odysseys. She, on the other hand, had already been from one end of the universe to another... and then some.
The Monitor spoke slowly, as though to a small child. “Before he disappeared, Ray Palmer often explored this so-called nanoverse. According to my research, he spent
* some time in one particular subatomic realm ... to which we now travel.”
“There’s no guarantee we’ll actually find the Atom there,” Donna admitted. “The nanoverse is a big place, relatively speaking, but it’s as good a place as any to start looking for him.”
Jason shrugged. “If you say so,” he said dubiously. A crimson mask once more concealed his features. “Anyway, don’t look now, but it seems like we’re getting somewhere.” Outside the sphere, molecules broke apart into atoms, which dissolved into swirls of pulsating quarks, gluons, bosons, and neutrinos. A single particle soon filled the horizon, growing larger and larger as the sphere and its passengers shrank to meet it. Oceans and continents covered the surface of what now appeared to be a full-sized planet. As the sphere came in for a landing amidst a vast, verdant jungle, Donna found it hard to grasp that this entire world was actually infinitesimal in size.
“Indeed,” the Monitor confirmed. “We have reached our destination. Let us pray that it shall be the first and final stop on our journey.”
“Yeah, right,” Jason muttered. “We should be so lucky.”
The golden sphere dissolved into the ether, leaving the trio standing in a sunny meadow surrounded by dense undergrowth. The tropical atmosphere was hot and muggy. Insects buzzed in the background. The torrid temperature came as a jolt after the autumnal chill of the cemetery back in San Francisco; Donna didn’t envy Jason his heavy black leather gear. He must be sweltering. Glancing up she saw that the light and heat came from a glowing yellow orb high in the sky. A solitary photon, she speculated, or some sort of radioactive particle?
It took Donna a moment to realize how small they were compared to the scenery around them. Leafy ferns the size of pine trees towered over them. Grass blades as wide as broadswords stretched above their heads, hemming them in. A brightly colored bird flew by overhead; it looked like it was big enough to carry any one of them off in its talons. Donna hoped that it wasn’t hunting for a snack.
Was there a reason that the Monitor had chosen to bring them into this world in such diminutive proportions? Frankly, Donna didn’t like the idea of being Lilliputian-sized in an alien jungle. Who knew what kind of predators were lurking in this lush, primeval wilderness? Wouldn’t it be safer if they were bigger than, say, field mice?
She turned to ask the Monitor for an explanation, but a sudden rustling in the greenery put them all on guard. “Looks like we’ve got company,” Jason said. He drew a twelve-inch Bowie knife from his belt. “Wanna bet they’re not friendly?”
“We don’t know that,” she rebuked him, but assumed a defensive posture just in case. She heard multiple life-forms moving in the bushes all around them. “Remember, no unnecessary violence!”
Jason smirked. “Don’t tell me that,” he quipped. “Tell them!'
A party of armed warriors burst through the high grass walls, surrounding them on all sides. Donna blinked in surprise. She wasn’t quite sure what sort of beings she had
WN Si
expected to find on a subatomic particle, but the last thing she’d expected was ... ape-men riding giant frogs?
But that was exactly what confronted them now. Shaggy primates, who vaguely resembled Earth’s ancient Neanderthals, sat astride massive amphibians the size of hippopotamuses, holding on to the reins of their warty mounts. Crudely sewn animal skins were reinforced by breastplates and armbands carved from polished bone. The warriors brandished primitive spears, clubs, and shields. Deep-set eyes regarded the strangers with undisguised suspicion.
They ’re roughly the same size we are, Donna realized. That must be why the Monitor shrank us down so far, so that we could more easily communicate with the natives.
“Name yourself, outlanders!” one of the ape-men demanded. An intricate carved ivory helmet and voluminous fur cloak suggested that he was in command of the warriors. His sloping forehead and prognathous jaw reminded Donna of Gnarrk, a good-hearted caveman who had once fought beside the Teen Titans. The fangs of some deadly predator dangled on a cord around the chieftain’s neck. “How dare you invade our kingdom?”
“Please, we come in peace!” Donna held up her empty hands as a gesture of goodwill. “We are seeking a friend of ours. You may know him as Ray Palmer, or perhaps the Atom.”
“You will find no friends here!” the chieftain growled. “And we will not betray Ray Palmer to the likes of you!” He glared venomously at the Monitor. “I know a demon when I see one!”
The Monitor bristled at the charge, “I am Monitor, not a shadow-demon.” He strode aggressively toward the mounted ruler. “If you know where the Atom may be found, you must tell us immediately.”
“Hold your tongue, abomination.” The chieftain goaded his frog forward to meet the Monitor. He beat his fist against his chest. “I am Winn-Dar, ruler of this domain, and I do not answer to the commands of outsiders!”
Poison sprayed from swollen glands above the huge amphibian’s bulging eyes. The toxic discharge splattered harmlessly against the Monitor’s personal force field, but the powerful alien frowned in annoyance. His right hand glowed ominously as he pointed at the frog.
“No!” Donna pleaded. She stepped between the Monitor and the indignant chieftain, anxious to keep the situation from escalating out of control. “Hear us out, I beg you. Give words a chance before bloodshed!”
Jason stepped past her. “Nice try, Donna, but there’s only one language these missing links will understand.” His carbon steel knife gleamed in the light of the micro-sun.
Winn-Dar spied the blade at once. “Attack!” he commanded his warriors, who lunged at the intruders from all sides. Furious whoops and war cries precluded any further discussion, and Donna reluctantly went on the defensive. 'A monstrous frog leapt toward her, seemingly intent on crushing her beneath its webbed feet, but she blocked its descent with one hand. Grabbing hold of the amphibian’s clammy belly, she hurled it over her head into a throng of warriors behind her. The frog’s startled rider let out a yelp as his steed crashed headfirst into his own kinsmen, scattering them across the meadow.
Another frog-rider bounded at her from the left. “Die, she-devil!” the mounted hominid bellowed as he swung the jawbone of an unknown beast at Donna’s head. Amazon training came to the fore as she easily parried the blow with her bracelet. The crude weapon shattered against the silver wristband. “Sorry,” she said as she knocked him out of his saddle with a super-strong right cross. He was out like a light before he hit the ground. Riderless, the panicked frog jumped over Donna into the safety of the beckoning jungle.
A few yards away, another warrior charged at the Monitor from behind. “Rrraahhhh! ” he roared as he raised his club to batter the stranger’s brains in. But the Monitor casually teleported out of the way so that the warrior’s club swung through empty air instead, leaving the baffled ape-man gaping in confusion.
“Can you conclude this bestial melee soon?” the Monitor asked as he reappeared a few feet away from where he had been standing before. His arms were clasped behind his back while he surveyed the battle with obvious boredom. “The longer we must search for Ray Palmer, the less likely we shall find him in time.”
“Do not spea
k his name, foul creature!” Winn-Dar shouted. He shook his stone-tipped spear in the Monitor’s direction. “If it was from you he fled, then let your hunt end here!”
Intent upon the inhuman Monitor, the chieftain was caught off guard when Jason sprang at him from the side, knocking him off his steed. They tumbled together onto the floor of the meadow, Winn-Dar’s body cushioning Jason’s fall. The ivory helmet tumbled from the Neanderthal’s thick skull as Jason softened him up with a vicious punch to the jaw.
“Listen, jackass!” Jason knelt atop the fallen ape-man, his knee pressing down onto Winn-Dar’s chest. He waved his knife in his opponent’s face. “It’s obvious Ray Palmer is a friend of yours. Great. Us too.”
“Jason, wait!’’ Donna deflected an oncoming spear with her bracelet as she spotted the potentially tragic drama unfolding only a few yards away. Along with the combatants, she froze at the sight of the chieftain’s extreme peril. The other warriors looked on uncertainly, anxious over the fate of their leader. Donna wished she could assure them that Jason meant Winn-Dar no harm, but she wasn’t sure that was the case. The former Robin didn’t play by the old rules anymore.
To his credit, the defeated ruler refused to let the knife-wielding youth intimidate him. “You claim to be friends of Palmer?” He snorted derisively. “That would be easier to believe without your blade in my face!”
“You asked for it,” Jason replied, “with the lousy welcome you gave us.” He nodded at Donna and the Monitor. “Now, my friends here are reasonable people, but I’m not, and I’m tired of being jerked around.” He poked the tip of the dagger into the chieftain’s nostril. “So tell me where to find the Atom or your nose will bleed out the back of your skull!”
Is he blujfing? Donna wondered. By the gods, I hope so! Winn-Dar stared cross-eyed at the knife. A trickle of blood ran from his nostril. The entire meadow seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what happened next. Donna considered tackling Jason, but even at super-speed she wasn’t certain she could stop the other Titan from killing his hostage if he really wanted to. Jason had pretty fast reflexes—and what seemed like a hair-trigger temper.
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