MY JSA - pt. 1

[Also rescued from the DC-Elseworlds Fanfiction Yahoo!Group, this was something I had first written and serialized on my Superland Yahoo!Group from 2001-2002. It is essentially a retelling of All-Star Comics #3, but with a different cast made up of cross-company heroes of different genres, and with Johnny Thunder replaced with a more obvious stand-in for myself. 

[The individual adventures recounted are a mixed bag, some of them (I think) quite creative, while others are just tweaked versions of the original stories. Interestingly, I can't defend, today, my choice for the entire JSA I put together 18 years ago, but it's an interesting snapshot of my thinking at the time.]

"MY" JSA

by Scott Casper   

The streets of New York City were not a safe place to walk for a man with his head in a comic book.

Scotty Thunder tried, with little success, at walking and reading at the same time. A man yelled at Scotty for bumping into him, and a woman scolded him for two minutes for tripping over her poodle.  Finally, Scotty decided to take a break from both activities, and cool his heels while leaning against the nearby five-and-dime. It was a pleasant Saturday in early September, and there was nowhere in particular where Scotty had to be. But there was somewhere he wished he could be - in the company of superheroes. Oh sure, he could read about what the Flash or Superman had done in the newspapers, but the comic books gave him a sense of being there alongside them that you didn't get from the news.  Now, if this were anyone else, the story would end there. But Scotty was special in that sometimes what he wished for came true. As he took off his hat to scratch his head, he noticed that his nose was itching.  He knew right away that some magic was about when his nose itched like that. As he scratched it, he wished again to be amongst superheroes. A breeze appeared out of nowhere, caught up some loose paper from the ground, and swirled them around Scotty's legs.

When Scotty glanced up after watching the papers blow away, he could see that he was no longer in the street at all. He had somehow appeared in the middle of a room. Before him, nine men sat around a large, white table, and all of them turned to look at the young man who had suddenly appeared in their midst. Scotty knew who they all were - knew them right away. 

"Did someone make this fellow appear as a gag?" asked the big-browed, cleft-chinned, brawny man in a red military jacket with a lightning bolt insignia on its chest, his white and yellow half-cape hanging behind him.  “Ibis?"

"It was not I," replied a dark, swarthy man in a red turban and navy blue dress suit. The man held up a peculiar-looking cane, the head of which was carved to look like a stork. "My Ibis Stick reveals a residual magic about him, though."

Scotty had just arrived and already he was uncomfortable with the scrutiny he was being put to. Embarrassed by his entrance, he just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He turned to leave, but suddenly the man with the winged hat (and a lightning bolt insignia on the chest of his red shirt too) was standing behind him, whereas a split-second earlier he had been sitting with the others. 

"Whoa there, mister," said the Flash. "I don't think you should go anywhere until you explain how and why you came here."

Scotty sighed. "That's going to be hard to explain," he began.

Before he could continue, someone else had grabbed him from behind and spun him around. Scotty was held tight by the lapels of his pastel blue jacket, which were bunched up now under his chin.  The man in front of him was dressed all in black except for the red scarf, which concealed the lower half of his face. Between the black fedora and the red scarf, cold, dark eyes stared out and seemed to look through him. The Shadow let out a short, sinister chuckle.

Scotty Thunder gulped. The Shadow himself had him by the lapels, and was penetrating him with a stare that seemed to burn right through him. Finally, the Shadow loosened his grip. The man in black turned to the others and said, "Unless he's the best actor I've ever met, he's genuinely scared. This boy is no threat."

The man wearing a helmet shaped like a hawk's head, with great black wings strapped to his back, stood up. "Given the combined might of those present, I doubt he could be a threat regardless of who he is. But he has yet to explain himself, and we have still to decide what to do with him." Hawkman spoke with the authority only a reincarnated pharaoh could command, and the others simply nodded in agreement.

So Scotty had no choice but to explain to them about the strange magic that seemed to follow him ever since he was a boy, when his parents had taken him on a vacation to Bahdnesia.  "…And ever since," he concluded, "my wishes have sometimes come true. Only sometimes they don't turn out the way I thought they would, and they usually wind up getting me into some kind of trouble."

The man in a blue, sleeveless shirt and a red cape smiled and said, "Uh, oh, sounds like what most of our powers do for us. At least you don't get smaller."

"Some of that story sounds awfully hard to swallow," said the man with the midnight blue cowl with pointed ears and scalloped cape. "And it seems convenient that all this happened on a remote Pacific island that none of us have ever been to."

"Not visited, true, Batman." Ibis the Invincible spoke. "But I have heard of Bahdnesia, and it is said to be a site of magical power."

"And everyone else has already pointed out that he seems harmless.  Why not let him stay?" said the man in the blue and white-visored helmet, red and white shirt, and blue cape.

Finally the last man at the table spoke. His rough features looked chiseled from stone.  The red cape hung loosely from his shoulders, and his blue shirt bore a distinctive shield with the letter "s" inside it.  "Sure, I say let him stay.  After all, we were just going to sit around telling stories we probably all already know."

"Then I think it's agreed," said Captain Marvel. "Flash, could you get us another chai--"  In less time than it took to ask, there was a red and blue blur, a gust of wind, and another chair at the table.

"Sorry it took so long," the Flash joked, "but I took the time to make sure our dinner is on its way."

Scotty sat down between Skyman and Superman at the table. He had perked up at the mention of dinner, and started to feel less nervous before noticing that

Superman was leaning towards him.

“Don't worry," Superman said in a low voice, "just think of this as a club. We've decided that, every few months, those who follow our...calling should get together, relax, and compare notes."

"Like telling each other your most exciting cases?" Scotty guessed. 

"Not a bad idea," said Dollman. "I second the motion."

"Okay," said Capt. Marvel, "as long as we have no nays I carry the motion. I see dinner is being wheeled in for us, so let's everyone be seated again while I lay out a few rules. No letting your story run past the length of a course. The last two to go have to stick to about the same length of time the rest of us got and we'll just keep track. And we'll let the Shadow go first -- for being the first of us, as well as being the one who's secret organization includes our caterer."

The Shadow blinked, and his steely gaze softened for a moment. "Well...as you all know I have ten years' worth of cases to draw from, so choosing one that was the 'most exciting' would take some doing.  Still, I was just thinking recently about the Delaware forgery ring back in '36, or -- The Case of the Copied Presidents."

Steaming bowls of French onion soup were laid before the assembled mystery men. Scotty watched as each champion of the people in turn began to slowly drain his bowl. He quietly blew on the soup in his spoon while looking back up at the Shadow. The man in black didn't slow down long enough to taste the dish in front of him, and there was a lazy, wandering look in his eyes now that suggested he was deeply engrossed in remembering his glory days.

"The fog shrouding the docks of Wilmington, Delaware, provided a veil of secrecy to a den of evil forgers. I was drawn into their web of crime by news stories of how the forgers had mysteriously escaped several police raids. Since I had few agents in the Delaware area, it meant a personal visitation from the Shadow. In the guise of a sailor, I wandered the docks where the city's sprawl met the famous river. More often than not, the people I talked to would have gladly ratted on the forgery ring if they could, for the forgers were ruining the local economy. I was gradually steered in the direction of a machine shop on a wharf, and paid it a call during the daytime. The employees shooed me away, but it did look like a legitimate business from what I could see of the place. Still, to be sure, I planned to pay it a second visit that night…as the Shadow.

"The machine shop was still open that night, though maybe half of the machinery inside had been turned off for the night. The front door was locked, but a delivery door in back was ajar. It was child's play for me to slip inside unseen, despite the presence of some of the rough-looking workers I had met earlier in the day. I counted four, who were all unpacking crates. I gave them my trademark laugh, and the blood ran cold in their veins. Hoodlums of their caliber always play their hands too soon, and before even revealing myself I could see that only one of them had a gun to draw, and the others planned on defending themselves with crowbars.”

“'Drop that pistol!' I warned from the shadows. 'Drop it I say!' When he tried to get a bead on me, I shot him in the hand."

Superman grunted at this, and looked visibly disturbed. 

"Ah, yes," the Shadow digressed, "I know you youngsters of the 'two-fisted justice' generation don't like guns. I'll try to keep the graphic details to a minimum so as not to spoil your suppers." There was a hint of a smile hidden beneath the Shadow's scarf.

Scotty Thunder had become so wrapped up in the Shadow's tale that he had for a moment forgotten he was in the company of nine of the greatest heroes the world had ever known. He reached for his water glass with a shaky hand.

"When I stepped out of the darkness into the harsh glow of electric light, which gleamed off my silver-plated .45 - er, my weapon of choice…one of them tried the innocent routine with me.

“'So you're just a bunch of honest joes, eh?' I said to them, 'well then it's too bad that the Shadow is shutting you down anyways.' I ordered them to shut down the machinery running in the shop, and at gunpoint they had to comply.

One by one, the roar of the machines died down, until nothing could be heard except for one motorized engine, somewhere in the shop. I followed the sound to its source -- a non-descript metal cabinet on the floor with a locked cover. 'Does anyone want to open this box?' I asked my captives. 'Shall I guess what's inside? The police never found evidence of a forgery ring here because all the noise from the shop was used to mask -- this!' And with that I shot the lock off the box. I kicked the lid open, revealing the large air pump running inside. Tubes ran from the pump under the floor, under the wharf. But before I could interrogate the crooks any further, reinforcements arrived on their side. I heard their approach, and was diving for cover when a hail of bullets sprayed the inside of the shop."

The Shadow paused to take a sip of water. He turned away from the others as he let down his scarf to drink. Once refreshed, he continued.  "It was too late to hit me where I had been, out in the open, and they didn't have a target once I was back in the shadows. From my hiding place, I could hear the villains coming inside, stepping on broken glass and machine parts. Then one of them spoke up. He had a faint, Scandanavian accent.

"'This can't be a police raid,' he said.  'Maybe you're a private dick, or some local vigilante.'

"I knew he was just trying to distract me while the others tried to corner me, but I wasn't concerned about that so I played along. I gave them my best laugh to shake them up, and said, 'So sorry to drop in unannounced. This is the Shadow!'

"Most of the crooks who had just showed up were as terrified now as the ones I had earlier captured, but their leader was a cool one.  'What an honor, to go up against the famous Shadow!' he said. 'Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Washington Adams.'