Obviously, she didn’t know him very well. “Just tell me where to take them and leave the rest to me.”
Burdened as she was, she smiled. “Okay. Let’s start with Billy.”
Billy was a ten-year-old with a blond crew cut and big blue eyes. His head was bandaged, and his arm had been placed in a sling.
The paramedic told the Flash where the boy needed to go. “It’s the closest hospital in the city. But it’s still a mile and a half through the worst traffic jam in history.”
“Give me thirty seconds,” he said.
The woman looked at him in disbelief. “Maybe less,” he told her, “if I get a tailwind.” Then he took off.
Halfway there, he looked down at Billy. The kid had to be in pain, but he wasn’t complaining about it.
Poor kid, the Flash thought.
Maybe he had been on his way to see his grandparents, or a ball game, or the circus. And because of Luthor, he was on his way to an emergency room instead.
It didn’t seem fair. On the other hand, these things had a way of balancing themselves out. And the next time the Flash caught sight of Luthor and the Injustice Gang, he intended to do his share of the balancing.
Leaning down until his mouth was next to the boy’s ear, the speedster said, “Next stop, a place where they’ll take good care of you. And thanks for riding the Flash Express.”
Then he skidded to a stop in front of Metropolis General, turned the boy over to a waiting team of physicians, and motored back to the scene of the wreck.
Luthor had given everyone an assignment. Copperhead’s was to check out the Justice League’s meeting chamber.
According to Luthor, the walls in the room had movable panels with concealed storage places behind them. Moreover, he knew what to do to make the panels move aside.
What a waste of talent, Copperhead thought.
After all, he could contort his body to get into places other people couldn’t. That was how he had earned a reputation as one of the world’s most feared and respected thieves. It was what set him apart from the crowd.
But anyone could have searched the League’s meeting room—even big, clumsy Grundy. Surely there was someplace more challenging in the Watchtower? Someplace that required a little crawling and twisting?
He was still thinking such thoughts as he entered the room and got a look at the big round table that dominated it. It made him want to laugh.
Who did these Justice Leaguers think they were—King Arthur? Could they have been any more pretentious? And what did they talk about around their table, anyway? Which criminals they had put away?
Once the Injustice Gang found the neutralizer, it would be the League that got put away—for good.
As Copperhead moved around the table and approached the walls with the secret panels, he made sure to keep an eye out for the Flash. He didn’t know what had made the speedster stay behind while the-rest of the League rushed off to Metropolis, but he knew from experience not to underestimate the guy.
After all, Copperhead prided himself on his quickness. But the Flash had him beat in that department, hands down.
Stopping in front of the wall opposite the entrance, Copperhead recalled Luthor’s instructions. Then he placed his hand on the metal surface just where it needed to be and applied some pressure.
Instantly, the section of wall under his hand slid away, revealing a compartment about six feet high and about three feet wide. But it was empty. Copperhead couldn’t even find any dust inside it.
Of course, there were three other hidden storage spaces. Maybe he would have better luck with one of them.
He was about to find out when he heard something behind him—the hiss of a door sliding open. “Oh, no you don’t!” came a voice, one that was strong and yet undeniably feminine.
Copperhead twisted around just in time to see a powerful red, gold, and blue figure hurtling toward him, her long black hair streaming back from her starred tiara.
Wonder Woman? he thought. Where in blazes had she come from?
Luckily for Copperhead, he was used to heroes trying to flatten him. At the last possible moment, he slithered out of harm’s way, allowing the Amazon to miss him by two or three inches.
Unfortunately, she didn’t allow her momentum to send her crashing into the wall. Before she reached it, she swerved and swung back to face him.
“Wait a minute,” said Copperhead. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Luthor had assured them that they would have the run of the Watchtower. He had promised them that the League would trip over each other getting down to Metropolis as soon as they heard the bad news.
I guess he was wrong, thought Copperhead.
And who paid for his mistakes? Not Luthor himself, of course.
Copperhead paid for them.
But that didn’t mean he was going to throw his hands up and surrender. Wonder Woman could be defeated like anyone else, despite her great strength and agility—and he was just the guy to do it.
“Funny,” said the Amazon, her blue eyes glinting, “I thought it was you who wasn’t supposed to be here.”
And she came at him with renewed determination.
But there was more to Copperhead’s game than an ability to slither out of danger. He had some pretty formidable weapons of his own.
His tail, for instance. Though it wasn’t actually part of him, it responded to his body language—in this case, latching on to Wonder Woman’s ankle as she went by.
Using her momentum, Copperhead swung her about and sent her crashing into a control panel with a satisfying thunk. Then, before she could recover, he leapt on her and wrapped himself around her.
Taking advantage of his exquisitely trained body, Copperhead began to squeeze the breath out of the Amazon—and along with it, her life. He wasn’t too worried about her getting away, either. Once he had a victim in his grasp, she stayed there.
“You’re mine,” Copperhead rasped.
That was when Wonder Woman did the impossible. She slipped free of her adversary’s death grip, just as he had slipped free of others’ grips in the past.
It felt as if she had softened her bones somehow, if only for a fraction of a second. Copperhead hadn’t known she could do that. Luthor hadn’t said a word about it in all their briefings.
He was still wondering about Wonder Woman’s miraculous escape when she reached for the lasso on her hip and sent it uncoiling in his direction, so smoothly and so accurately it almost seemed a part of her.
Copperhead leapt, confident that he would elude the lasso and be in good position to strike back. But to his chagrin, the golden rope seemed to have a mind of its own, pursuing him like a living thing.
Before he knew it, the lasso had wrapped itself around his legs and clamped them together like a vise. It left only his arms and tail free, putting him at a huge disadvantage, especially against so tough an opponent.
Then Wonder Woman began to reel him in like a prize fish. It was humiliating, and Copperhead didn’t like being humiliated.
He didn’t get it. He had never seen the Amazon fight the way she was fighting now. There was definitely something different about her. . . .
But he didn’t have time to figure out what it was. He had to get out of there and let the others know what he knew: that the Flash wasn’t the only hero who had stayed up there in the Watchtower.
Using a trick he had learned a long time ago, Copperhead twisted his legs at the ankles suddenly and created a little slack in Wonder Woman’s lasso. Then he capitalized on the bit of extra room by wriggling free—just before the Amazon could get her hands on him.
“Adios,” he told her, pretending a bravado he didn’t feel. Then he darted out of the meeting room and sped down the corridor, itching to tell Luthor how badly he had miscalculated.
Hawkgirl saw the angry red blaze from afar, about the same time Wonder Woman did. It was hard to miss, considering it was the only significant patch of light in that part of the city.
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The closer they got, the more Hawkgirl’s jaw tightened. It wasn’t a warehouse or an office structure that was on fire. It was a residential building—and not all of its residents had escaped.
She knew that because they were standing on the roof, penned in on all sides by flames and black braids of rising smoke, calling out for help with hoarse, desperate voices.
There were probably twenty of them, from little children to the elderly. And with the way the fire was climbing the sides of the building, there was noway Hawkgirl and her teammate could save them two at a time.
Using her Justice League comm device, she communicated the observation to Wonder Woman.
“I agree,” replied the Amazon, who was riding the wind just above her. “We’ve got to come up with another approach.”
But what could they do? Hawkgirl looked around at the surrounding buildings and the streets below them, frantic for some kind of inspiration.
And just like that, she found it.
“Wonder Woman,” she said, “follow me. I’ve got an idea.” And she swooped toward a building a couple of blocks away.
Hawkgirl’s teammate didn’t question her. She just put her hands out and veered after her.
The Winged Avenger hoped that Wonder Woman’s faith in her was justified. After all, she had never tried anything like this before, either on Earth or on Thanagar.
Stopping in front of the building, she surveyed the blue tarpaulin draped across the front of it, no doubt to protect passersby from falling debris while the structure was under renovation.
Hawkgirl had a different purpose in mind for it. She only hoped that it was strong enough to do the job.
Pouncing on one of the two topmost corners of the tarp, she ripped it free of its moorings. A moment later, she saw Wonder Woman follow her lead and do the same.
Then Hawkgirl led the way back toward the burning tenement, the tarp flapping ferociously in the wind as it hung between the winged woman and the Amazon.
Darting in among the twisting plumes of smoke, the Thanagarian flew to the far end of the terrified crowd. Then she pulled her end of the tarp down to the roof.
“Get on,” she cried out over the wind and the roar of the flames. “Children first.”
Remarkably willing to cooperate despite the danger, the trapped residents ushered the children onto the center of the reinforced plastic sheet. There were about a dozen of them, their eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.
“Hang on,” Hawkgirl called out, taking a corner of the tarp in each hand.
Then, with a glance at Wonder Woman to make sure they were in sync, she beat her wings as hard as she could. The strain on her shoulders was tremendous, and at first nothing happened.
“Come on,” she grunted.
Finally, the tarp lifted off the ground, along with its precious burden of humanity. The children were scared, but they didn’t make a sound—or maybe Hawkgirl just couldn’t hear over the wind and the shouting of the adults.
The winged woman could feel her arms pulling out of their sockets, but she wasn’t going to let go no matter what. Moving sideways, she and Wonder Woman made sure their living cargo cleared the roof. Then they descended and set it down on the street below.
It felt wonderful to be relieved of the children’s weight. But it felt even more wonderful to see them scamper to the far sidewalk, where they would be safe for the moment.
Then Hawkgirl got a new grip on the tarp, made eye contact with Wonder Woman, and rose into the air to go back for the adults.
Grundy had already entered the Justice League’s armory by the time J’onn arrived in the corridor outside, flushed with the success of his first two impersonations.
The Armory was the chamber where the team stored the weapons they had taken from their enemies. They didn’t use the weapons themselves, of course. They just kept them there so that they could study them.
J’onn knew that Grundy was there, from having telepathically scanned the Watchtower. But even if he hadn’t done that, the mangled door lying in the corridor would have given away the giant’s presence.
Peering into the room, J’onn saw Grundy raise his fists and hammer them against a metal door, making the very walls tremble. But then, finesse had never been the monster’s strong suit. His approach was to batter anything that got in his way—in this case, the triple-thick door of the League’s weapons vault.
He wouldn’t find the neutralizer in there. J’onn could take some comfort in that. However, there were a number of other powerful weapons in the vault, and in Grundy’s hands they would become even more dangerous than before.
J’onn couldn’t help marveling at Grundy’s enormous strength, the source of which was still unknown. Every time the giant pounded the door of the vault, J’onn could feel his bones shiver.
Once J’onn had met Superman, he hadn’t thought he would ever encounter anyone stronger. After all, the Kryptonian was able to take the solar energy his body absorbed and convert it into a powerhouse of kinetic energy.
But Grundy wasn’t merely strong. He was a being who had no sense of self-preservation, no judgment, and not even a hint of self-control.
Superman often had to restrain himself, to keep from destroying either his adversaries or himself. Grundy didn’t care about the repercussions of his actions. All he wanted to do was smash.
And that’s what made him so terribly dangerous.
J’onn could have taken the form of any of his colleagues, but the one who seemed most equal to the task was the Man of Steel. He was also the one who would be easiest for J’onn to impersonate.
J’onn didn’t have Superman’s strength, but when it came to flight he was second to none. If he could just avoid Grundy’s punches for a while, it might be enough to convince Grundy that he was facing the Last Son of Krypton.
His decision made, J’onn morphed into Superman and flew into the room. Then he plowed feet first into the back of Grundy’s knee, collapsing his leg and sending him stumbling against the vault door.
With a roar of outrage, the giant whirled and took a wild swing at his antagonist. If the blow had landed, it would have turned J’onn into pulp. But he veered to the side and managed to avoid it.
Grundy swung at him a second time, and a third. But on each occasion, J’onn was able to keep from getting hit.
Finally, the giant pointed a finger the size of a club at him. “You think you’re better than Grundy,” he growled, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a wolfish grin. “You think you can wear Grundy down. But no one wears down Grundy!”
Then he lowered his mammoth shoulder and came charging at the figure he thought was Superman.
Having seen the attack coming, J’onn was able to dart out of the giant’s way. Unfortunately, Grundy was more resourceful than he looked. Before J’onn could escape him entirely, he cast out with one immense viselike hand and grabbed the corner of the Justice Leaguer’s fluttering cape.
Under different circumstances, J’onn would simply have turned immaterial and escaped Grundy’s grasp. But he couldn’t do that in this case—not if he wanted to maintain the illusion that the entire League was in the Watchtower.
“Got you!” Grundy bellowed, the entire room echoing with the giant’s excitement. “Now we’ll see who’s better!”
And with that as his battle cry, he whipped J’onn toward a wall with tornado force.
J’onn tried to fly backward, but it didn’t help. He was flattened against the metal wall, subjected to the fiery pain of its impact.
And Grundy wasn’t done with him. He whipped J’onn about again and smashed him into another wall.
J’onn’s head swam. Darkness began to eat at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t endure this kind of punishment for long.
He had to find a way to save himself. But how? He had only a fraction of a second before the next devastating, bone-crushing impact.
Suddenly, J’onn knew what he needed to do.
Instead of struggling a
gainst Grundy’s power, he needed to use it to his advantage. With that strategy in mind, he flew in the direction that the giant was swinging him—but even faster.
Because Grundy was no longer in control of his victim’s course, J’onn was able to turn before he hit the wall. But he didn’t stop. He kept on going, describing a circle around the giant’s head.
And his cape, which had become an impediment in Grundy’s grasp, was transformed into a weapon as J’onn wrapped it around and around the monster’s neck, cutting off Grundy’s air supply.
Grundy gasped for breath, his thick, powerful fingers clawing at the hero’s cape. But J’onn didn’t dare let up—not if he wanted to survive the battle.
Finally, Grundy tore J’onn’s cape away from his neck. But by then, it had done its work. He was too battered and oxygen-deprived to stop J’onn from hovering in front of him, a Superman-like smile on his face.
He was still smiling as he reached back and drove his fist into the villain’s face, dropping Grundy to his knees.
“I’ve got something to take care of,” J’onn said, sounding as much like his teammate as possible. “But I’ll be back for you. You can bet on that.”
And with that promise hanging ominously in the air, he went tearing through the open doorway, his cape fluttering behind him.
As soon as he was outside in the corridor, J’onn reverted to his usual appearance. He had taken a terrible beating—one he almost hadn’t walked away from.
But it had been worth it. He had sent Luthor another message. Taken with the others, it could lead him to only one conclusion: that the Justice League was still very much in evidence in the Watchtower.
Freddy Doherty sat behind the wheel of his car and shook his head. This just wasn’t his week.
First a bunch of super-crooks broke into the lab where he worked. And now the whole city had been blacked out, just as he was on his way home for dinner with the wife.
Fortunately, Freddy had known which intersections to stay away from, so he really wasn’t making such bad time. But his route had taken him through Suicide Slum, which wasn’t the safest part of the city.
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