Air Force Two (conclusion) By Michael Hutchison Illustrations by Kurt Belcher If, at any point, you are confused (or offended) by this story, feel free to read my notes on it. Beware, these do contain some spoilers for the story. Nemesis and the hidden Atom crept down the hall of Air Force Two's main deck. Nemesis held the Uzi casually as he neared the press/passenger area. One of the terrorists passed him; a curt nod was enough to satisfy them for now. They didn't seem to have a system of codes or assigned places. This was good in two ways, as it indicated a lack of organization and it made it freer to move around. Nemesis approached the far corner of the room, a hallway which led to the conference room. As nonchalantly as possible, he peeked down the hall and saw a man guarding the open door. The room was lit and busy voices emanated from inside. Nodding to the guard, Nemesis sauntered off and cased the room full of reporters. Nemesis began walking towards the front again to case the Veep's office, the communications room, the cabin and then return below. As he passed a closet, there was a click and Nemesis was hurled through the air. He hit the hull and dropped like a rag doll. Atom was saved from a deadly fall by the top of Nemesis' collar, which caught him. Woozy, Atom crawled from the collar and looked to see what hit them. A dark-suited figure passed around the corner, carrying Nemesis' Uzi. Atom followed "Sure are a lot of dead Secret Service men down here!" Elongated Man observed. He and Deadshot were searching the lower deck of the plane while Blue Beetle guarded the exhausted Nightshade. "This must be close to the full team down here. Jeez! Poor guy's got arrows in his neck. His last thought was probably, 'Hey, I specifically said I'd take a bullet! A bullet!'" Deadshot looked back at him. "Sorry. Didn't think you'd be bothered by gallows humor." "Not that. Arrows. Let me see one." Elongated Man screwed up his face (literally) and yanked an arrow from one of the bodies and handed it to Deadshot. The assassin took one look at the ornate arrowhead and muttered, "Merlyn." "You're certain? I'm not too familiar with him myself," Elongated Man admitted. "I'm sure. These are his arrowheads. We were both in a team of 'professionals' called the Killer Elite. We tried to assassinate Batman. Didn't, obviously." Elongated Man looked again at the corpses. "Each one of these arrows struck a deathblow. He must be an amazing shot." "He's basically as good as I'd be if I hadn't chosen bullets," Deadshot admitted. "So both Merlyn and Bolt are here. Only one of the Killer Elite missing is Deadline, but I know he's in lockup at Belle Reve." "Look, Waller seems to think you're dependable and trustworthy as long as you're working for the good guys. Maybe. I only know you're still a paid assassin, so excuse my misgivings. If you have to face Merlyn or Bolt, whose side would you be on?" "What, you think I'd be on their side?" "They are your former teammates." "I've never worked with anybody I wouldn't shoot. Leave it at that." Elongated Man turned to face Deadshot. "Oh, that makes me feel safe! Why don't I just line up against the wall right now?" He illustrated his point by backing up against the wall. As he did so, the door was flung open. Deadshot, hidden by the door as it opened, somersaulted soundlessly behind a nearby stack of suitcases. In the same instant, Elongated Man inhaled himself against the wall and flattened out as much as possible. Two gunmen entered the room, followed by Bolt. "You two check the back. I'll guard the exit here!" Bolt drawled. The men raced for the back storeroom where Beetle and Nightshade were, while Bolt stood in the doorway. Elongated Man slowly, carefully slid his left arm over the door frame and then through the top of the door. Once his fist was behind Bolt and he had enough arm length to gain momentum, he curled his stretched out fingers into a torso-sized fist. "Hello, Bolt!" Ralph heard. He rotated his head slightly to see Deadshot step into the aisle, his hands at his sides. "Merlyn didn't tell me you were in on this as well." "What?! Deadshot??? What the hail are you doin' here?" Bolt tensed, his electrical field intensifying to full charge as he aimed his hands at Deadshot. "Chiller didn't say nothin' about you." "Of course not. I'm your ace in the hole!" Deadshot said calmly as he pulled his hood off. He removed his wrist Magnums and set them on the suitcases. "Snuck on board back in Tennessee and hid down here, just in case his team failed. Didn't mention who was on his team, though." "Whut? Couldn' have! Y'ain't in our plans. Whut're ya playin' at?" Bolt asked, not quite falling for it. His form bristled with energy. Above him, Ralph waited for the electricity to disappear. "Bolt, you know me. Is there any chance in hell I'd take off my wrist Magnums if I wasn't on your team? I just figured there's no point in hiding now that everything's under control. And if I have to hide again, you're the only one who knows I'm here, right?" Deadshot asked with amazing coolness. He produced a packet of cigarettes from his belt and lit one as he enjoyed the break. "I din't even know you were here 'til ya walked out. We're just checking on a couple of our people. Hey, can I have one?" Bolt asked, nodding at the cigarettes. "Huh? Oh, sure. I hate non-smoking flights. Just try not to fry the pack this time!" Deadshot chuckled, as he prepared to toss the pack.. Bolt shot a look at Deadshot and turned off his energy field, then held out one of his hands to catch it. As the pack arced upward, Deadshot calmly said, "Now, Ralph." Bolt's eyes widened in surprise as a full-body fist slammed into his spine and hurled him across the room. Ralph let out a muted cry of pain and recoiled his body back to normal form, holding his fist. Deadshot quickly donned his wrist Magnums again. "Dammit!" Ralph hissed, "that hurt! I thought he had his field off!" "He musta been reactivating it. A second sooner and you'd 'a been fine." Deadshot made sure Bolt was unconscious, then hauled him by his costume's neck. "And if you'd hit him when he first walked in, you'd have found out about the low-level field he keeps on most of the time. Bullets wouldn't have gone through it, either." "Well, Deadshot, I think I owe you an ap—WHOAH!" Elongated Man grabbed the wall for support. "Sorry, woozy. Hey! We'd better see about the others." They found the 'others' each holding their own. Blue Beetle had wrestled his man to the floor and knocked him out. Meanwhile, Nightshade's shadowstuff hair had come alive and released several wolf-faced phantoms which pinned the other man against the wall. Deadshot hauled Bolt into the room. "What are we gonna do with 'em? And don't suggest what I know you're going to suggest, Deadshot!" Blue Beetle said. "Hm. I say, chuck 'em into Nightshade's dimension and let 'em fend for themselves until we release 'em!" Deadshot offered. "…says the guy who spent all of five seconds inside it!" spat the still-exhausted Nightshade. "I can't promise they'd even survive. Still, I don't think we have much choice. Bolt, at least, is way too dangerous to trust to a cubbyhole. All right." She gestured to open the inky hole in space; distracted, the shadowstuff released her prisoner, who grabbed for his machine gun. "Ralph!" Beetle shouted to Elongated Man, who stood close by, "Ralph, get him!" Elongated Man swayed unfocused on his legs. Nightshade tried to re-establish her shadowstuff while keeping the portal open and collapsed from all the effort. As the gunman swung his Uzi towards Blue Beetle, Deadshot dropped Bolt and fired a clean shot through the man's head with a wrist Magnum. Blood sprayed as the man fell to the ground and his Uzi bounced to Ralph's feet. Ralph picked it up. "God!" Blue Beetle yelled. "God damn it! You didn't have to kill him! Ralph, why didn't you stop him?" Blue Beetle looked at the gun in Ralph's hand. The melting gun. Chuckling, Ralph hastily grabbed Deadshot by the wrist Magnums and melted them before they could fire. Deadshot squirmed away and removed the useless firearms. Ralph advanced on the Blue Beetle. "Sorry, dude, no Ralph over here. Only the Molder!" he said with a sneer. "Nightshade?" Blue Beetle said through closed lips. "Um, Nightshade…You'd better inject Ralph with …" He noticed Deadshot pointing a crooked index finger behind him. "What?" Blue Beetle turned, to see that Nightshade had removed her goggles. Her eyes were now green. "What's with the colored contacts?" he asked. "Fool! Don't you recognize me?" she said with a cackle. "Enchantress!" Deadshot muttered. "Oh, sh-" "-oot!" Flash exclaimed as Giggling Gremlin leapt to the wing he sat on. She absently looked around, turned back to the plane…and saw him. "Oh my Gawd!" she shouted. "How'd you get there?" "Oh my God!" Flash shouted. "What have they done to Marisa Tomei?" "Okay, okay," Blue Beetle panted, slamming the door behind him, "so Nightshade and Elongated Man have become Enchantress and The Molder. That's great! That's perfect. How the hell do we stop two friends-turned-homicidal maniacs?" "I'll have to get my hands on some guns," Deadshot noted. "NO! You're not killing them! They're not responsible. We can change Ralph back if we get the vial from Enchantress. So what do we do about her? I haven't even heard of Enchantress" "Um…she's kind of an evil entity from the Nightshade dimension that, um, controls a human host. Used to be this woman on the Suicide Squad until Nightshade got taken over." Deadshot shoved a pallet of suitcases in front of the door. "Nightshade is always fighting its control. She'll change back if you get her to say 'Enchantress.' It's getting her to say it that's rough." "But you've done it before?" "Usually with a gun or a bomb or magic. We have to coerce her. She won't go willingly." "Great!" Beetle said. "We're screwed. Neither of us is ready to go up against a sorceress. And we can't stay back here hiding. And we're still trying to pull off a rescue operation here! Ohmigod! We've gotta stop them before they go upstairs or someone comes down here to investigate." "Hey, feel free. I ain't going back there unarmed." "I, uh, don't think we'll have to, Deadshot!" Beetle said. Behind them, the door began melting. Beetle and Deadshot stepped back, both wondering if they dared run out the other door and take their chances upstairs. "Hey! You see 'Air Force One'?" Deadshot tilted his head. "The plane?" "The movie! The Harrison Ford movie!" "No, but I saw 'Con Air'." "Really? Any good?" "Nah." "Huh. I haven't been too impressed with Bruckheimer's…waitaminute! Come on!" Blue Beetle led Deadshot past the luggage to a skinny crawlspace on the opposite side of the room. "Good! I'd hoped there wasn't just one passageway to the back. I can circle around behind them and get to the fuel cables. Deadshot, can you keep Molder occupied?" "Sure!" "I have a plan to stop Enchantress. Make sure they don't get upstairs." Beetle ducked down the passage. Deadshot glanced back to see The Molder turning the luggage into a multi-colored puddle. "Over here, Molder!" he said, ducking behind another set of luggage. "Wave good-bye, kiddo," Giggling Gremlin shouted as she conjured up a ball of energy to throw at the Flash. "Don't throw that! You'll just hit the plane!" Flash shouted back. To prove it, he raced up the fuselage to the tail, then up to the cockpit, then to the middle. Giggling Gremlin appeared baffled, realizing he was right. Then she looked at her hands, where the unattended sphere of energy coruscated and rolled, growing larger and larger. "Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod!" she shrieked like a teenage girl with a spider on her hand. She'd never not fired one of the globes before! It sat in her palm, building in intensity and growing in size. Without a mental target and too excitably incoherent to focus on another spot, she began trying to shake it off by waving her hands and screaming. "Stop! Calm down! Calm down!" Flash shouted as he raced back down the wing, concerned that she'd damage Air Force Two. As he got nearer to her, she shrieked and carelessly flung the sphere of energy from her hand. The sphere left like a bolt of lightning In the blink of an eye, the unguided sphere raced through the sky, across the relativity field and into Superman's chest. The sphere was an amalgamation of relativity forces, trillions of energy particles pulling in different directions at different speeds. Every object Giggling Gremlin had ever tested her power against had been obliterated. For the invulnerable Superman, the energy sphere hurt like hell. Even Superman had to obey the laws of inertia! Before Captain Atom had even noticed the commotion, Superman fell from the sky. "No!" Al Gore shouted, getting up from his chair. Though handcuffed, he stood in front of Tipper and tried to protect his wife. "If you want to hurt Tipper you're going to have to go through me!" "With this acid I could indeed 'go through you first.' However, it was you I was planning to kill with the acid." Chiller chuckled. "Oh," Al said, suddenly at a loss. He continued to stand, though it merely put him closer to Chiller. "Tipper, on the other hand, will get hers the old-fashioned way," Chiller said, shifting his body back to his exo-skeleton form so that he could draw his gun. "See, she's got to look like the victim of a plain old terrorist attack. Acids would be a give-away that it's me. Hey, Al, turn around a second. Don't worry, I'll tell you when I'm going to kill you. I guess I gained a little compassion with all my brains." "Not enough, I'm afraid," Tipper said from her chair. Chiller chuckled at that while he placed his fingers on Al Gore's handcuffs. In five seconds, his acids melted through the cuffs and they fell to the floor. Al yanked his hands away and rubbed them against his shirt, lest any of the acid drip on his skin. "Hey, I'll tolerate a few pesky emotions. I still think I got a bargain in the deal with Neron. Well, at least I did better than Killer Moth, poor bastard. Anyway, Al, you just stand there." Chiller took a few steps back up the conference room and watched Al. "See, see…I needed a plan that would tug at America's heartstrings. People think with their hearts, most of 'em. You could bring evidence that Clinton killed O.J. Simpson's wife and they'd still think that nasty ol' Ken Starr was just being vindictive. So Al Gore has to tug at America's heart even more than Clinton does, and let's face it…you're not up to it." As Al Gore stood, nervously and uncomfortably, Tipper noticed Chiller mimicking the way he stood and moved his hands. For the last several hours, Chiller had never once removed his gaze from Al Gore. She suddenly realized that he'd been studying her husband the entire time. Tipper listened to him and realized his voice had been changing, too. "Oh, don't be offended, Al!" Chiller said, continuing to mirror Al in every way. "We both know that the political cartoonists and comedians study vice presidents for about five minutes before deciding how to label them for four years. You're no more a tree than Dan Quayle is a moron or Bush was a wimp or Ford a stumblebum. But let's face it, you're not the tower of warmth, either. We've got to change that, Al, yes we do. And what better way then losing your wife to terrorists!" Tipper let out a shriek as Chiller swung the gun toward her. Al moved to stay in between her and the gun. "Can't you see it, Al? Air Force Two makes an emergency stop at the nearest American airport. The local news crews arrive in a heartbeat. You descend from the plane carrying Tipper's lifeless, bullet-riddled body, sobbing uncontrollably, in footage that will be seemingly looped non-stop on the news for days, weeks, months. Hell, it'll become as memorable as the Challenger blowing up or the Zapruder film. They'll be showing it during 'The Historic News Events of 1998', probably even end of the century." "You'll be asked to say a few words, probably after a week or two. Everyone in the world will tune in to hear what you have to say. You'll talk of Tipper and her charity work and her concern for the children of America…and most of all, your undying devotion to each other. All of Bill's famous friends will suddenly become your friends. Maya Angelou writes a poem honoring her. Rob Reiner dedicates a movie to her. Bruce Wayne creates a foundation in her name." "And the whole time, people will be looking at this grieving, devoted family man in the number two spot and compare him to the faker in the top spot. The chubby mannequin who says what the polls tell him to say and pretends to love his wife. We all know he is, we've just been denying it because nothing better's come along. But if impeachment meant Bill goes and this wonderful new Al Gore takes office, hell, Clinton's approval numbers drop like a rock." "Look!" Al interrupted, "This is all very interesting, but it's still risky and far-fetched. Any number of things could jeopardize your plans. I mean, I mean…look how many times people thought Bill was finished and he bounced back every time." "Oh, of course, Bill will be your biggest comforter!" Chiller said, gesturing with the gun as he resumed pacing. "He'll be by your side, leeching off all the high approval and attention, making speeches about you and telling the Republicans to leave the administration alone so that you all can get back to the business of Tipper's funeral. And I've prepared for that." "Inevitably, people will start asking you if you're so heartbroken that you'll step down. Instead, you'll re-dedicate yourself to public life, the only life you have left. You'll promise the American people to be an honest politician, dedicated to ridding Washington of corruption and deceit. You'll reawaken America's belief that public office should still stand for something. An okay economy no longer becomes the sole requirement for holding the presidency. And that's it for Billy boy! Congress will go for impeachment when their constituents are for it. And then…you become President, Al." Suddenly, Chiller shifted his body again…into a mirror image of Al Gore. "Or should I say…" Chiller said in Al Gore's voice, bringing up the gun and aiming between Al's eyes, "…I become President!" Superman dropped like a stone, his airspeed diminishing. The energy had dissipated, but the pain in his gut still overrode his ability to fly. He'd survive impact, but it would most likely knock him unconscious. Not to mention the damage, depending where he came down. Gritting his teeth in anguish, he turned his head and looked to see where he was headed. Two red gloves appeared in the corner of his eye and suddenly he found his speed slowing as strong hands grabbed him by the arms. "I believe in passing on good deeds!" Dmitri said from behind him "Or as you say, rancid acts of kindness!" "Rock…Rocket Red?" Superman gasped. "I'm over Russia?" "Da! I was watching the plane with my helmet's telescope, but I cannot match its speed. How goes the rescue mission?" Rocket Red asked, still slowing their descent while supporting Superman's weight. "No idea," Superman said, clutching his stomach and groaning. "We're waiting for some indication from inside. I'm…I'm feeling better. Don't feel up to chasing the plane. Let's wait for it to come around again." "Very well, friend Superman. So…is true, what they say, about you dissing Mr. Clinton, eh?" Superman sighed. It was time to add the phrase 'out of context' to Dmitri's vocabulary. "So!" Giggling Gremlin said, pouting. She was feeling more and more ineffectual. She stood uneasily on the wing of the plane. "So!" Flash agreed, from the middle of the wing. "I guess we're at an impasse. You don't dare fire at me when you might destroy the plane. Besides, I can outrun anything you throw at me." "And you can't hit me, since I control the relativity tube!" Giggling Gremlin said. "What's your name?" "I'm the Flash!" Giggling Gremlin leapt into the air, where Flash couldn't touch her, and turned on her communicator. "Bolt? Flash is out here. Help!" "Nooooo!" Chiller heard as he began to pull the trigger. He turned to find his guard knocked out and a large, blond Secret Service agent charging at him. Chiller fired the gun just as the agent tackled him. Al Gore hastily glanced at the smoking hole in the thick wall. The bullet had missed him by inches. He quickly looked back to see Maxi-Man wrestling Chiller to the floor. "Come on, dear," he said, "we've got to get out of here!" He helped Tipper off her chair and took her arm, as her handcuffed wrists made running difficult. On the floor, Chiller growled and struggled to roll over. Maxi Man seemed to be subduing him. Tipper shrugged off her husband's hand and kicked Chiller in the face. "This is for trying to kill me! And this is for using me as a pawn!" Chiller, still wearing Al Gore's face, passed out after the third kick. "Tipper, we don't have time for this. We have to go!" Al said, seeing a ring of keys on the fallen guard and snatched them up. "Sorry, Al! I just hate guys who kill women just to provide motivation!" Tipper said as he unlocked her cuffs. "Uh-oh!" Al looked up from the cuffs to see another Uzi-holding terrorist entering the room. "Oh! Umm… yeah!" Al said, trying to disguise his voice, "Al Gore's trying to escape! Come in here and get him. Don't worry, I've got the wife!" "You're not Chiller," the gunman said. "Nice try anyway, hon," Tipper whispered, patting his elbow. The gunman took a step forward…and then did an uneven somersault upward into the ceiling, landing prone and unconscious. The Gores both blinked in surprise at the site of the Atom holding the man by his heel. He had positioned himself beneath the gunman's falling foot and then resumed his normal human height. "Mr. and Mrs. Gore? I'm the Atom. We're here to rescue you. I'm afraid this isn't quite what we had planned." "Behind you!" Tipper shouted. From atop Chiller's prone form, Maxi Man spun, weapon ready in his one free hand. Another terrorist was in the doorway. Before he could fire, Atom shouted, "No! He's on our side. That's Nemesis. Come on, he can lead us out of here." Deadshot crouched behind the last pallet of luggage, which began to melt like all of the others had. He was running out of options. He glanced around the room. Where was Enchantress? "Come out, come out wherever you arrrrrrre!" The Molder sang from behind him. As the suitcases and gear became a puddle of finger Jell-O at Deadshot's feet, he turned to face The Molder. He appeared to be carrying the last of the fallen Uzis. The odd thing was that he carried it by the barrel of the gun. "Ah, there you are!" Molder said, smiling. "Oh, you don't have a gun! Poor baby. I'll give you my gun!" With that, he swung the Uzi at Deadshot. Though he was eight feet away, the gun suddenly stretched the distance between them and dealt a hard blow to Deadshot's shoulder. "Aggh!" Deadshot groaned. The gun was flexing and stretching, but it still hit with the force of solid metal and almost broke his arm. "Of course, I doubt you could fire it with the barrel this way. Guess I'll have to put it to better use! Say goodnight, Gracie!" Molder said, raising the elongated Uzi above his head and preparing to deal a skull-smashing blow. Meanwhile, in the next compartment, Enchantress had just finished using her powers to transform Nightshade's clothing into her green witch outfit, complete with pointy hat, when Bolt regained consciousness. Neither of them said any dialogue worth repeating here, and a careful exchange of lightning bolts and magic blasts ensued. Bolt was hiding behind a dividing wall when the call from Giggling Gremlin came on his communicator. "Bolt? Why aren't you answering? I need you out here now!" Bolt waved goodbye to Enchantress and disappeared in a burst of light. Enchantress cursed and went looking for other prey. Blue Beetle tore at the wires housed in the rear of the plane. Using the handy schematic…that wasn't in the movie, but he supposed that was probably just for exposition purposes…Beetle found the wires he needed and shouted, "Deadshot! Get back here!" Blue Beetle pulled out his gun…a specialized weapon that discharged either blasts of compressed air or a blinding light…and began hooking the wires into the trigger. Deadshot leapt forward, under Molder's descending blow, and delivered a sound punch to Molder's chin. The Molder fell, out like a light. Two seconds later, he began snoring. "I can't believe you caused trouble for a guy who moves at the speed of light!" Deadshot snorted. "Course, I always said that about Captain Boomerang, too." "Deadshot! Where's the Enchantress now?" Beetle called, his voice echoing down the narrow corridor at the side. "I'm right here, dah-ling!" the Enchantress said with a flourish, as she levitated through the melted door. Deadshot glanced at the narrow corridor and realized there wasn't enough time to outrun her magic blasts. Nor did he have a weapon. "Ha ha ha haaa! Deadshot, dear, whatever will you do without a gun? I still haven't forgotten your shooting me!" As she floated within a few feet of him, Deadshot grabbed the sleeping Molder's hands by the wrists and held them out. "Any closer and we'll see whether he can melt you into a puddle, witch!" "You forget, I retain all of Nightshade's memories. I know his abilities come from a bad batch of Gingold. And now," a ray of light shot from her hand into Ralph's body, "I've just wiped it from his system. So, by all means, just try it! Ha ha ha ha haaa! You're dead, Deadshot!" Deadshot somersaulted over Ralph's body and underneath the Enchantress' floating form, running back the way she'd come. She floated after him, laughing, playing a game of cat-and-mouse with her powerless prey. "Hey! Hey! Where do you think you're going?" Merlyn asked, an arrow aiming right at Al Gore's heart. "I'm Chiller, you idiot! Al Gore's corpse is in the conference room. We had some trouble with a Secret Service agent who turned up alive. Go help with the corpses. I'm taking Tipper to Gore's office to shoot her there." Merlyn hurried off to the conference room, then Al, Tipper and Nemesis changed course and raced for the lower level of the plane. "That was much better, Al!" Tipper whispered once Merlyn was out of earshot. Flash twisted in place as Bolt's energy blast passed in front of him. Flash raced back down the fuselage, dodging more lightning bolts and hoping Bolt wouldn't get so careless as to damage the plane. That probably would happen if Flash kept infuriating him. Flash could dodge lightning all day under normal conditions, but running on such a slanted, limited space narrowed his options. Bolt flew around the plane, keeping up with its speed inside the relativity field. Apparently, Bolt had recently improved his flight technology to keep up with the plane. Bolt, too, was getting tired of this unproductive chase with the Flash. He opened his communicator. "Warp, git out heayah! The Flash is on the hull of the plane. You 'n' I 're gonna trap him together. Git out heayah already!" "In a moment, monsieur Bolt!" Emil LaSalle said over the communicator. "What's takin' yew so long?" "Mind your own biz-ness!" Warp spat. Warp emerged from the bathroom, toilet paper trailing from his boot, and shut the door. His green pallor looked horrible against his golden headpiece. He clutched his stomach and wished he didn't get so sick on planes. He pictured a spot a few feet outside the plane, began the warp…then closed it and raced back for the bathroom. Merlyn entered the conference room and took five steps towards the body of Al Gore before receiving a chair in the back from Maxi-Man. Merlyn rolled with the blow as he landed at the other end of the room, then quickly drew a black arrow from his black quiver. He fired it at Maxi-Man's nose. With his adrenaline-born speed, Maxi-Man caught the arrow just inches in front of his face. Merlyn was so shocked that he never had a chance to reload before his nose was flattened. Maxi-Man shut the door and locked it. As he was hog-tying Merlyn with his own bootlaces, an intense sizzling pain racked his neck. He fell over Merlyn's body. "Not again," he murmured before passing out. "What have we here?" the Enchantress asked, impishly, as she entered the rear of the plane and found Deadshot and Blue Beetle standing by a panel. "Say your name, Enchantress, or we'll destroy you!" Blue Beetle said. "Ha ha ha ha haaaa! You? You're going to destroy me? You don't have any weapons, fool!" "See that device in Deadshot's hand?" Beetle asked, pointing to his gun. "It's wired to the fuel line. He pulls that trigger and this plane starts losing fuel. When the trailing edge of the fuel line hits the relativity field, it'll catch fire and this whole plane goes up. And don't try zapping the gun, either. Deadshot's trigger finger is probably faster than yours!" "You're bluffing, little blue insect! Even if you were willing to commit suicide, you'd never destroy this plane with Al Gore aboard." "You're right, I wouldn't. Deadshot, however, only cares for himself, which is why I gave it to him. Considering that you're about to kill us anyway, he's got nothing to lose by pulling that trigger!" Deadshot nodded. "But it doesn't have to be that way. All you have to do is say one little word, Enchantress!" Blue Beetle said. "Say it now! Come on, Enchantress. Say it!" She gave them a haughty look, but Blue Beetle could tell that she was unnerved. "One…" Deadshot announced, putting the gun behind him so that she couldn't try to destroy it. "Two…!" Deadshot called, more insistently. "Thr—" "Enchantress!!!" she shouted. There was a blinding flash, and Nightshade stood in her place. "Hey! Guys! Where are you?" they heard from the front compartment. The three of them went forward to find the Gores and Nemesis waiting alongside the recovering Elongated Man. Nemesis kept an eye on the stairs leading upward while they began comparing notes. "Part one, securing the Gores, is done. Part two, securing the pilots, is being handled by the Atom," Nemesis reported. "I may be able to give him a hand!" Elongated Man said, removing a small capsule from his belt. "Since Enchantress removed all of the Gingold from my system, another dose should fix the problem. Ever since the Justice League Task Force created these concentrated tablets, I've kept a few in my belt." He downed one of the capsules and began wiggling his fingers. Warp emerged from the bathroom again, walking even more slowly. He pictured the spot on the wing of the plane and again made the mental signal to open the warp hole. He forgot about the change in air pressure. HHHHWOIP! The sound filled his ears as he was sucked out of the plane. Reflexively, he closed the portal…but it was too late. He found himself hurtling outward, toward the relativity field. The Flash had been tentatively running along the fuselage for minutes, and he was finding it very taxing. He couldn't build up too much momentum for fear of overshooting and falling off the plane. Plus, running at superspeed in such a thin atmosphere made it almost unbearable. More lightning and energy spheres flew in his direction, trying to pen him in. He sped back up the wing, down to the tail, pirouetted over a sphere as he raced back and almost did the splits sliding under a lightning bolt. Giggling Gremlin and Bolt flew around the plane in frustration. Wally West was almost ready to collapse again when he saw it in slow motion: a small spark of light hanging in the air. The spark grew by inches until it was a circle of light about 7 feet wide. Then the center of the light seemed to 'solidify' until a picture of the plane's passenger cabin could be seen through it. Wally watched as a face he hadn't seen in a while…that of Warp, an enemy he'd fought years before when he was still Kid Flash, a member of the Teen Titans…hurtled through the hole of light with a look of shock. Warp slowly (to Flash's split-second point of view) tumbled through the air, too confused and unfocused to fly. Flash wagered that, unlike Bolt and the Gremlin lady, Warp wasn't able to take the high altitude and the velocity. Half a second passed before Flash realized the warp hole was still there. He rushed towards the hole and leapt, using the drag of the escaping cabin air to quickly decelerate inside the small space of the passenger cabin. Flash peeked behind him to be sure that the hole was closing, then spread his arms to catch several shrieking reporters. The rush of air suddenly disappeared and he lowered the reporters to the floor. "Eeeeeeeyaaaaaaah!" Warp screamed. Warp tried to get his bearings as the images of the plane, Bolt, Giggling Gremlin and some strange red face all spun and swirled around him. The remnants of his lunch jostled in his stomach, and he gagged trying to breathe the thin air. As much as he wanted to close his eyes and shut out the pain, he had to pull himself together. Forcing his eyes open, he saw a pink wall in front of him. THE RELATIVITY FIELD! In his terror at the thought of being ripped apart, Warp's mind opened a warp inches in front of the destructive field and he plummeted through it. Warp hit a solid floor, breaking his arm and a couple ribs. Woozy and injured, Warp finally opened his eyes to see where his subconscious mind had impulsively taken him. It was a dank, unlit and empty room. Something about it looked familiar. The peeling wallpaper, chipped paint and ratty carpeting suddenly jogged his memory. It was his old apartment. Of course! That was it! His subconscious mind, reeling from illness and pain, had sought out a place it identified with safety. And thus it had brought him here, to the apartment complex in Saint-Tropez where he'd lived for many happy years. Emil slowly hobbled around, trying not to bruise his ribs or arm. Fortunately, no one lived in this old building anymore. On his last visit to his hometown, he'd heard that it had been condemned. There wasn't any furniture or power, but he could rest a few minutes until he had the energy to find a hospital. He turned to the wall and gently slid to the floor. Nursing his ribs, he lay down and tried to dispel the pain. He idly eyed the empty apartment. And then he spotted it. A small rectangle on the wall, whitish in color, with wires running out to the hallway. Emil wondered what it was. Outside, a member of the demolition crew flipped the safety off and depressed the plunger. Buh - WOOOOOOOM ! With the Flash inside Air Force Two and their only means of escape gone, the rest of the terrorists were rounded up within a minute. The following events happened concurrently. In the cockpit, the gunman had tired of guarding the pilots and merely kept a casual eye on them. From the floor, the Atom looked up at the man's Uzi. To his perspective, it looked like the Titanic hanging from the Sears Tower. A closer inspection revealed that the safety had been put back on. This guard wasn't dumb, Atom mused; once the pilots were subdued, he hadn't wanted to risk damaging the cockpit with accidental fire. This made his job all the easier. He increased in size. As Atom grew, he brought his fist upward into the gunman's chin. Simplicity itself. Five terrorists were in the hallway by the reporters, discussing how much they hated Warp periodically decompressing the plane, when one of them saw his shadow moving. "Hey, guys, is…" he said, when the shadow suddenly enveloped him and his partner. The other three stepped back in amazement at the wriggling black blob. They began firing their machine guns at it, watching as each bullet made a dull "THWUP" sound and disappeared. From the small door leading below deck, a purple-gloved fist rocketed out and crossed all three of the men's chins in quick succession. The three men were knocked backwards, stunned. One struggled to keep his footing while the others began picking themselves up off the ground. The first man saw all three of their guns pulled along the floor by an extremely long purple arm, which connected up to a purple body, which was running at them rather rapidly on extremely long purple legs. "Hold that pose and smile!" Elongated Man said as he leapt into the air. He threw his left arm around the nearest man, who was still standing, and quickly encircled the torso to pin his arms at his sides. He threw the weight of his upper body on this first man as an anchor while the rest of his body continued forward. Elongated Man's left ear grew elephant-sized and engulfed the man's head as he struggled. The second man, five feet away, stood up to find Elongated Man's torso wrapping around him like a huge garden hose. The constricting body made it hard to breathe, and he wriggled as a huge hand began pummeling him into unconsciousness. The third man, six feet away from the second, saw two large boots plunging toward him. They pinned his back to the wall of the cabin as they did a dance of rapid kicks in the air. Behind all of this, the reporters had begun snapping pictures since the first gunshots had been heard. Suddenly recognizing Elongated Man, they switched to panoramic prints and kept snapping away. The Flash disarmed everyone else. Rocketing as fast as he could in the tight quarters, he snatched guns and delivered a flurry of punches to all remaining terrorists on the plane. Hearing a gunshot, he spun and saw one of the terrorists fall to the floor. He saw a blonde Secret Service agent holding the gun. "Maxi-Man! I'd heard you'd joined the Service. Glad to see you alive, but I can handle this without killing them. Go defend the Veep!" Flash said as he raced off to sweep the other rooms. Maxi-Man gave a slight smile and headed for the lower compartment, the only logical place Al Gore would be. Bolt and Giggling Gremlin flew around the plane, trying to figure out where the Flash had gone. There had been a few confusing moments where they both had been firing at him and they'd lost him in the blinding flash. "I must'a got him!" Giggling Gremlin proclaimed. "Uh-uh. No way in hail! If ya'd hit him we would'a seen it," Bolt protested. "Not if I disintegrated 'em!" Gigi shot back. "Maybe I stunned him an' he fell of the plane so fast he disappeared!" Bolt circled the fuselage again. As he came even with one of the portals he glanced inside. And let out a string of profanity as he saw Elongated Man and the Flash beating on the heads of the gunmen. "Ah'm outta here!" Bolt said, disappearing in a blinding burst of lightning. "Hey!" Gigi cried, "What about me!? What do I do? Is it over? Bolt! Bolt, get back here you chicken-hearted son-of-a-" "Gun! Drop your gun!" Blue Beetle cried as a man in black clothing began descending the stairs. "Come on, drop it now!" Deadshot trained a Secret Service Glock on the man until he dropped his weapon. Beetle hurried over to the stairs and picked it up. "It's okay, Beetle, that's one of the Secret Service men," Tipper Gore said, as she and her husband sat at the back of the room. The agent turned to lock the hatch behind him, then came down the stairs. "Really?" Beetle asked, "How did he survive?" "He's, er…rather hard to kill," Tipper admitted, trying to keep his identity secret. "Oh, wait a minute! I know you!" Beetle exclaimed as the agent approached them, "You're Maxi-Man. You were on my buddy Boost-URG!" Maxi-Man's hand clenched around his throat, and then he was flung into the wall. As Beetle's body crumpled, the agent changed shape to become Al Gore. "CHILLER!" Tipper Gore shrieked as the assassin grabbed Deadshot's gun arm. Deadshot dropped his gun and screamed in pain as smoke rose from his arm. Chiller hurled the man away and knelt to grab the fallen guns. "Now, I do believe it's time to…HEY!" Chiller yelled, as he saw Al and Tipper crouch behind the mushy piles of melted luggage, then dart into the next room. "Where do you think you're going?" Chiller, still in Al Gore's form, chased the Gores through the next room and into the room with the escape pods and the emergency transporter. Chiller lost sight of them as they ducked into a back room and slammed the door shut. He picked his way over the dead Secret Service agents and reached the door on the other side. They'd locked the door, but Chiller had enhanced strength. He hurled himself at the door and knocked it off its hinges. The last compartment had an airlock that lead to a rear hatch. The airlock's door was closed. He looked through the glass portal to see that the hatch was sealed, then opened the door. Chiller opened the door to find Al Gore on the other side. He stepped through the door and sealed it. "Where's Tipper?" Chiller asked. He was using Al Gore's voice now. "Hiding. You don't want her. You want me." "You know I have to kill her, Al. I can't just kill you. But…" Chiller said, pulling the lever to open the rear hatch, "…I may as well get the 'killing you' part over and done with." "Don't open that! You're crazy!" Al yelled over the howling wind, hanging onto the safety netting for dear life. "We're too high and we're going too fast!" "Sure! For parachuting! You're not going parachuting. You're going to plunge into that relativity field and get torn to so many pieces that you'll never be identified! Then I just kill the missus and my plan can still succeed!" Chiller yelled back, waiting for the air to balance out so that he could walk safely. "But…it's too late. A special team is taking the plane! They know your plan now. Tipper will rejoin the others before you can kill her and your plan fails! Don't you see? It's OVER! OVER! Give it up!" "Okay, then," Chiller said, gaining his footing and carefully walking towards Al, "I can still kill you and take your place. I can still try it. After all, even if they were watching us now, how would they know which one lives and which one disintegrates?" Chiller and Al Gore now stood face to identical face. "Chiller…I beg you. Don't do this. Your plan has failed and you just don't realize it. You're overlooking an important fact." "Yeah? And that is?" "I'm not Al Gore," Al Gore shouted, pressing a button on his collar. A concentrated mist sprayed out from the collar, disintegrating the complex make-up job on his face. As the mask disintegrated bit by bit, the face of Nemesis appeared beneath it. "I'm Nemesis. The transformation is a little more dramatic when the wind isn't blowing my chemical spray away, but I think you get the point." "AGH!" Chiller screamed, swinging furiously at Nemesis. Nemesis ducked and quickly rubbed his face to remove the lingering latex pieces that clung to his face. "You bastard! I'll kill you!" Chiller howled. In his madness, he lost control of his form and returned to his old exo-skeleton body. He swung again and again, blinded with rage. Nemesis dodged as much as he could in the tiny space, trying to get around to the other side and close the hatch. "Oh, hi!" a new voice said. Nemesis saw the green-skinned monster lady fly in and alight on the hatch. "Thanks for opening the…" she began. Chiller's wild fist missed Nemesis and clocked her in the jaw. "Hoip!" was all the Giggling Gremlin said, tumbling limply from the hatch and falling backwards. As Nemesis and Chiller watched, her body fell to the relativity field below. For an instant, there was a smear of blood on the top and re-entry flames below, and then she was gone. Chiller gulped. Nemesis gulped. Deadshot and Al and Tipper Gore, all watching through the portal, gulped. "Uh, didn't you need her to safely shut down the relativity field?" Nemesis asked. "Yeah," Chiller admitted, the fight gone out of him. "And now that she's dead?" "Given that it was powered by her body," Chiller said, "I think it just collapses." As they watched, the relativity field began crackling and dissipating. "And we re-enter the atmosphere going 300,000 miles an hour! You idiot!" Nemesis yelped. He pulled the lever to close the hatch, for all the good it did. Up in the cabin, The Atom was watching the skies as the relativity field collapsed. "Guys!" he shouted, "Get up here!" Elongated Man appeared, hauling the injured Blue Beetle from below. "I just found out that the Gores are okay but that lizard lady is dead. Nemesis and Chiller are in the back hatch." "If that woman's dead, then the field's gonna collapse!" Atom deduced. "Everyone brace for impact!" Elongated Man shouted to the passengers. "Forget impact!" Blue Beetle said, "Once that field's gone, we all die in a second just like the Bug did." "Then what do we do, Ted?" "Well, if we live through this somehow, I kill you for using my real name, Ralph!" "Beetle!" Elongated Man spat. "All I can do, Ralph, is get Nightshade to do a quick conversion so I go to heaven this time." "Nightsh…? How long do we have before it's dispersed?" Ralph asked. "Fifteen seconds at the most. The sky's getting bluer." "Nightshade!" Elongated Man screamed. Eve Eden was already running up the hall. "Get down below, Eve, and hurry! Take the Gores into your dimension! Go go go! We're all dead, just save the Gores!" Eve Eden became a shadow and swiftly vanished down the hatch. "Oh God, we may not have that long! The field's collapsing!!!" Atom yelled. The plane began shaking and shimmying. The pilots gripped the controls for dear life. "…Kingdom Come, thy will be done, on Earth…um…something heaven…" Blue Beetle mumbled. "Well, Atom, I guess we'll be rejoining Barry, Hal and Ollie sooner than we expected," Ralph said, offering his hand. "The Justice League cemetery's getting crowded," Atom nodded, taking his hand. "Think we'll get brought back to life?" "Hey, we're superheroes! Probably. Way to be a glass-half-full kinda guy, Ray!" "…forgive us…forgive us… Hey guys, is it supposed to be 'debts' or 'trespasses'?" "Doesn't matter, Beetle, it's gone! It's gone!" Atom said. Through the cockpit windows, the energy field dissipated and the plane's turbulence increased. "I love you, Sue," Ralph whispered, closing his eyes. Outside the plane, Superman had rejoined Captain Atom. Cap was filling him in on all that he'd seen transpire when the energy field thinned out and disappeared. "Waller!" Captain Atom reported into his headphone, "The relativity field's gone! Completely gone!" The plane's shaking subsided. Everyone opened their eyes. The plane flew smoothly through the clear blue sky. "Oh. We're alive. Whattayaknow!" Blue Beetle remarked. "I don't under- OH!" The Atom said, "Of course. We only appeared to be going 300,000 M.P.H. to the outside world. Our actual velocity was still 450 M.P.H., it was just within a pocket of air which accelerated." "Then, what was all the shaking about?" Ralph asked. Blue Beetle's scientific mind was kicking in again, now that the panic was over. "The air inside the tube was mixing with the air currents outside. It was just a rough period of adjustment." The pilot began checking all the instruments while the co-pilot radioed the authorities and the navigator began figuring their current position. The navigator finally reported that they were in America and would touch down at the nearest airport within the hour. "Then that's it!" Elongated Man exclaimed. "We did it! We beat the bad guys and came through it alive!" "I said, 'Drop your gun now or Nemesis gets off without a head!'" Chiller said, blocking Deadshot's line of sight with Nemesis' body. Chiller had shape-changed to look like Nemesis, so that their bodies matched in size and shape. Chiller and Nemesis had left the airlock with Nemesis as a hostage. Deadshot tried to draw a bead on one of Chiller's few exposed parts. Nightshade worriedly stood by, waiting for an opening. "Come on, Chiller, if you're so smart you've gotta realize it's over!" Nemesis grunted. Chiller had a vice-like grip on the back of his head, which made it hard to concentrate. "Wise up! No one's getting a million dollars and a plane-ride to Cuba, not with me as a hostage. The Gores are gone. You've got nothing." "Shut up!" Chiller said, advancing very slowly. "Deadshot, can you take him?" Nightshade whispered. "No, only feet and elbows. He'd burn Tom's head off before he fell," Deadshot replied, still circling Nemesis' extremities with his gunsight. "Drop your gun! I mean it, Deadshot! Back up and lie down on the floor. I'm taking that escape pod and taking this guy with me!" Chiller shouted. "No, you're not," Nightshade said. Her voice was eerily calm. "If he goes with you he's as good as dead." "Don't mess around with me!" Chiller growled. "Do what I say or he's dead! His life is in my hands!" "No, Chiller," Nightshade said, slowly stepping forward. "It's your life that is in your hands. You see, I love that man more than anything else in the world. If you release him now, you have my guarantee that no further harm will come to you. But if you kill him…so help me, if you kill him, God himself couldn't stop me from murdering you in the most painful way imaginable." Nightshade removed her goggles. Cold fury seethed in her pupils as she fixed a stare at Chiller's head. Her midnight-black hair began to tumble and turn upon itself. The dark faces of hungry shadow creatures held at bay appeared in the blackness, tugging at an intangible leash, yearning for release. "It's entirely your choice, Chiller!" she whispered. There was a long silence. Chiller trembled slightly but did not release Nemesis. "I think he wet his pants," Deadshot said. "Shut up!" Chiller cried, weakly. "I'm…I'm in control here. I can still get out of this, I can, I can. Drop your gun. Drop it drop it drop it!" "If you'll trust me," Deadshot said, knowing that was a loaded statement, "I have a way we can get out of this without Nemesis dying." "What is it?" she asked. "Can't say. Have to trust me." "Go for it," Nightshade said. The cabin roared with the sound of a single gunshot. Nemesis crumpled, a large bloodstain forming near his shoulder. Behind him, Chiller fell, the bloodstain closer to his spine. "Oh Christ!" Nightshade swore, sprinting forward to Tom's body, "You didn't tell me you were going to shoot him!" "Wound's superficial. He'll live. Chiller's is life-threatening. He may not," Deadshot pronounced with a shrug. "How can you be so sure?" Nightshade said with a sob as she grabbed a nearby first aid kit and looked for bandages. "It's what I do," Deadshot said, walking away to fetch his cigarettes. "N-nightshade?" Tom asked, "Eve? You got the Gores off the plane?" "Yes, my love, be still. They're safe. I opened the portal to D.E.O. headquarters and pointed the way there." "Why didn't you go with them? We thought the plane was going to disintegrate. You should have saved yourself." "If you died, what would be the point, Tom?" she said, kissing his forehead. Epilogue 1: "Looking good, Tom!" Amanda Waller stated as she looked him over from head to toe. "Recovering from life-threatening situations is getting to be a regular thing for you. You keep coming back like a bad penny." "Thanks, Amanda," Nemesis said. "I'm not sure how 'recovered' I am. The hospital didn't even want to release me yet. Probably wouldn't have, if the request hadn't come from on-high." "What can you say? Public interest in the hi-jacking's still at a peak, and the White House wants all the good press it can glean from it," Amanda said. "Clinton and Gore have been calling you 'saviors' for a week. Now they want some faces to go with the names so they can keep the good news in the papers. Medal-winners usually have to wait weeks or months for the award ceremony, but the public interest would have waned by then and the pictures may not have even been printed in the paper." "A media circus," Nightshade said, "that's all this boils down to? A planned photo-op. We all risk our lives, endangering our physical and mental health…Tom gets shot, for God's sake…and to the White House it's no different than getting Clinton in a beautiful picture on Normandy Beach? We're just scenery to make the prez look good?" "Eve, they're all grateful! The thank-you's from the Gores are all very genuine. I told them my team was just doing it's job, but they want to show their gratitude in any way possible. Now, if they can get some good publicity out of it, that's just frosting on the cake," Amanda said. "Amanda, I've lived in Washington far too long to ever believe that," Nightshade sighed. Nightshade looked out of place sipping tea on a fancy white couch. She held Tom Tresser's hand. "Whatever!" Blue Beetle said from the window overlooking the Rose Garden. "I don't care what the reason is. I think it's fabulous that we get to have our picture taken with the President of the United States!" "What Nightshade's saying, Beetle, is that it's the President of the United States who's having his picture taken with us!" Elongated Man said from the far end of the room. Sue Dibny was with him, admiring the fine silverware donated by the Ambassador of Bialya. "And I've gotta ask, am I the only one here who finds that a HUGE boost to his ego?" "Ralph's got a point!" The Atom admitted from the couch opposite Nightshade. "Let's not be too negative about whatever politics may be behind this. At least we each get a presidential medal and a night in the Lincoln bedroom. Well, everyone except Deadshot." "Deadshot's still a known felon and an active assassin," Waller said. "The President will make a private presentation later. With a lot of Secret Service Agents surrounding both of them." Five minutes later, the team was waiting in the wings of the Press Room. "Hey, Nemesis, why aren't you in costume like the rest of us?" Flash asked, sotto voce. "Clinton's advisors don't want the Scales of Justice and the President to be seen side by side," Nemesis whispered back. "Doesn't bother me. This suit isn't as tight on my bandages." "Speaking of bullet wounds, any word on Chiller's condition?" Elongated Man asked. "Still comatose. It's just as well if he dies. If he doesn't die, it means getting charged with numerous counts of treason and sentenced to death. Which means a dozen years of anti-death penalty protests and appeals, housing and feeding him on death row, all to make sure he goes the same place he'd go if we pulled the plug now," Nemesis said. "Sheesh! You're getting bitter in your old age, Nemesis!" Elongated Man chuckled. "He's a supervillain. He'll probably live and break out of jail twenty times over before any of that happens." "Supervillains!" Nemesis snorted. "You know, it does sometimes seem like there's an entire group of people that never get what they have coming to them." "Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States!" rang out, followed by a rousing rendition of 'Hail to the Chief'. The President entered, followed by the Vice President and his wife. An aide named Fletcher came up to the group of heroes. "Just a reminder, the microphone will be cut after the speech, but please don't make a scene. The President will call your names, then you'll come forward to shake hands with Vice President Gore, then Tipper Gore, and then Bill Clinton, who will present you with the ribbon and medal. Other prominent, telegenic, ethnically-diverse Senators and House Members will follow, and then you'll exit to the left. No one will be allowed to make an impromptu speech. Remember to smile the whole time and turn to the photographers for at least one still shot. Thank you. And I just want to say what great Americans I think you all are." "The Flash," Bill Clinton read off the TelePrompTer. The fastest man alive appeared in an eyeblink, taking the appreciation of the Gores in stride. He then zipped forward to receive his medal from Bill Clinton, then hastily shook the hands of the waiting Congresspersons. The photographers would not find out until that night that the pictures would be blurry and unusable. "Blue Beetle." Ted Kord stepped forward to genially shake hands with everyone. Blue Beetle stood tall and proud, the picture of professionalism and maturity. Offstage, the aides breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn't clowning around. When Beetle got to Clinton, he pulled a piece of paper from his belt and gave it to the President. "What's this, Mr. Beetle?" Bill Clinton asked. "The bill for my Bug. I'll have to build a new one." "But this is bigger than our entire military budget!" "And whose fault is that, Mr. President? My people will be in touch!" "Elongated Man." Elongated Man stepped forward in one stride. "Thank you, Mr. President, for the award and for the hospitality. Who'd have ever thought that I'd spend a night in the Lincoln Bedroom again!?" Elongated Man asked, hamming it up for the cameras. "Oh, this isn't going to cost thousands of dollars like my last visit, is it?" "Um, no, Mr. Dibny. This one's on the house. The White House, that is." As Elongated Man stretched away, Mr. Clinton motioned for one of his aides to come forward. "Are those night-vision video cameras still ready to go in the Lincoln Bedroom?" he asked, shielding his lips from the camera with his hands. "Yes, Mr. President." "Good. Call that number for Sleezy Larry's and tell him we may have something in a day or so." "The Atom." Atom accepted his medal without incident. Deadshot watched the proceedings on a TV in the Richard Nixon bowling alley. He smoked a cigarette and chuckled at the goings-on. Like he'd want to be up there anyway, he thought. The door opened and Fletcher walked in, carrying a box. "Mr. Deadshot, I'm sorry, there's been a change in Mr. Clinton's schedule and he won't be able to make the private presentation to you." "Huh. I'll bet. More likely, the Secret Service didn't trust me in the same room as him." Fletcher nodded, "That, too. However, when I told him you were a smoker, he thought you'd appreciate these even more than a presentation. This is a box of the finest cigars you can get without breaking the Cuban trade laws." Deadshot fixed Fletcher in a deadpan gaze for a moment, then sat back in the lounge chair again. "Nah, no thanks. Don't know where they might have been." "Nightshade." Nightshade glided out and shook Al Gore's hand. She accepted a hug from Tipper. The Gores were extremely glad to see her. So was Bill Clinton. "Young lady, you did this nation and the Gores a great service," he said, shaking her soft hand the entire time, "and it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm told that the entire operation could not have succeeded without your efforts." "Thank you." "It's Americans like yourself…" "Mr. President? I'm up here," Nightshade interrupted. Bill Clinton's eyes rose and he looked her in the face for the first time. "Uh, right. It's Americans like yourself who make this country the nation that will lead the world into the 21st Century." "Thank you," Nightshade said, as demurely as possible. He placed the ribbon over her head and proceeded to admire the medallion for a moment. As Nightshade walked away, Clinton watched her and chuckled, "Now there's a woman I wouldn't mind having make a pizza delivery, know what I'm saying?" A couple of the nearby Congressmen laughed at the remark. The man nearest the President, Senator Eden, clenched his fist and resisted an urge which would have ruined his Presidential bid in the year 2000. "Nemesis." There was a great deal of applause as Nemesis stepped forward. His heroism and perils aboard Air Force Two had been widely praised by the Gores in the week since the event. Nemesis appeared very embarrassed by the attention and tried hard to smile. Al Gore gave him a hearty handshake, making sure to grab Nemesis' good right hand. Tipper Gore was going to give him a hug, but caught herself before she took his shoulder and instead gave him a warm kiss on the cheek. Nemesis stepped up and received his medal. "Thank you very much, Mr. Nemesis," Bill Clinton said. "Thank you, Mr. President. I'd just like to say that I think this whole impeachment thing is a bunch of nonsense!" Nemesis said. "Really?" Clinton said in a much louder voice, edging closer to the microphone. "Yes, the American people voted for you and the polls show they still want you. You're the one they want to fulfill the job of President." "I can't tell you how happy it makes me to hear that!" "Indeed it should. It's a simple matter of fairness." "I couldn't agree more, Mr. Nemesis." "Absolutely. I figure, people spent a hell of a lot of money getting you elected. It's only fair to get the full money's worth before you go to prison." The laughter from the press room continued as Nemesis was hurriedly ushered off the stage and into Nightshade's waiting arms. "You're crazy, Tom, you know that? Of all the time to express your politics…" "I'm not into politics, Eve. I only serve justice. Justice for everyone rich or poor, small or powerful. And no one's above it. No one." "Boy, everyone's acting unusual today. My dad, who has not spoken to me since he learned I'm Nightshade, just passed me a note that says, 'Lock your door when you sleep in the Lincoln bedroom.' No explanation. Bizarre, huh?" "Hey! That's the agent from the plane! Max Manning!" Nemesis shouted. The blonde Secret Service agent did not respond as he scanned the crowd. "Must not have heard me. Wonder what he's doing on duty already? The guy was in the next hospital bed from me. You think I had it bad, he had acid burns, electric shock, numerous bruises…" "He seemed to be a pretty tough guy; he probably heals pretty fast," Nightshade said. "Besides, I don't think he's on duty. He isn't wearing any gear." "Then what's he…" As the reporters slowly emptied from the room, a young woman nervously entered. She wore a White House Guest Pass. In one hand, she led a pre-school-aged boy; in the other, she carried a battered, stained envelope. Maxi-Man's eyes lit up and he sprinted up the aisle to give her a careful hug. Nemesis smiled. "What do you know? He told me about that lost letter. Some kind soul must have found it and dropped it in the mail!" "Who is she?" "His wife. They've been estranged for some time, but he's changed a lot. They may be getting back together!" Nemesis said, smiling. "Awww," Nightshade cooed, as Maxi-Man knelt to see his son for the first time in years. "I'm glad to see some couples can work out their differences," Nemesis said, gazing at Nightshade. "So…" Nightshade said, trying to change the subject, "Chiller's still comatose. Too bad. Amanda Waller really wanted to find out what he was really planning." "He wanted to become President." "Oh, please!" Nightshade snorted. "And do what? According to Al Gore, Chiller admitted that there aren't a lot of lucrative perks to being President. I think Chiller had something else up his sleeve." "Like what?" Epilogue 2: In the basement of S.T.A.R. Labs, two small voices emanated from a closed laboratory. "Pinky, would you desist playing that pre-adolescent electronic amusement device. You've neither the hand-eye coordination nor the know-how to manipulate the input control." "But I'm a genius at this game, Brain! NARF!" "Is that why the screen still says 'Select level' after five hours? In any case, I need your assistance in assembling my greatest invention, the Stat-o-Tag-Whirlamatronic. Once we've removed the tags from everyone's clothing, they will no longer know whose clothes belong to whom or which side of their shirts are the front. Then I, famed fashion designer Claude Braine, will introduce the only clothing with tags. Once my clothes are worn by the entire globe, my name will become a household name and I will rule the world!" "Do all clothing designers rule the world?" "No, but my last plan to have Chiller take over the Vice Presidency was a horrible failure. All that televised brainwashing to make Chiller think he came up with the plan, all for nothing. I tell you, Pinky, it's enough to make me wonder why I bother." "Oh, poor Brain. You sound so saddy-waddy! I'll get your blankie and your footy slippers and sing you a song! Hee he he he ha ha ha! TROZ!" "Song. Song! Pinky! Are you pondering what I'm pondering?" "I think so, Brain. But what if Alissa Milano doesn't have a hedge trimmer?" "No, Pinky. I'm thinking of an even better plan. If we can get this recording of Elongated Man singing 'Welcome to the Jungle' played on a continuous loop in Young Justice Headquarters, we can turn those teenagers into mind-numbed slaves who will do my bidding. Come along, Pinky. We have a lot of planning to do for tomorrow night." "Why? What are we doing tomorrow night?" "The same thing we do every night, Pinky: Try To Take Over The WORLD!" Pinky and the Brain are © Warner Brothers All other characters are ™ DC Comics This story is © 1998 by Michael Hutchison.