Chapter Twelve
THE HOME OF THE BRAVE
“Harley!” The Joker called. “Oh, Harley, hon!” He poked his head out from under the huge computer, whose immense display screen took up one entire end of the cave. The Joker was still wearing the same plastic toy army helmet that he’d had on since this all began.
“Yes, puddin’.” Harley Quinn yelled back. She was hanging by a harness, upside down from the ceiling of the cave, spray-painting fluorescent green and purple smiley faces on all the stalactites to, in her words, “punch up the place a bit.”
“Hon, where’s my fiber-optic kit, electric arc welder and whoopee cushion?”
“I think I packed them with the itching powder toilet paper in the box marked ‘Kitchen Utensils.’”
The Joker bounded through the cave toward a stack of boxes near the stairway that led up. “You’re the greatest!”
In the darkness beyond, standing in the shadow of a giant penny, was The Amazing Ghost Fighter. He had been standing there quietly for a while now, feeling that familiar headache return. “Joker,” he said as the man in the purple tails turned on his arc welder and leaned back inside the computer through an open service panel.
“Yeah, Spooky?”
“We have to do something.”
“We are, Spooky. If I don’t get this computer-TV thingee fixed, Harley might miss ‘I Love Lucy’ and then we’ll all be in big trouble.”
Yes. It was for certain now: His headache was back.
The Amazing Ghost Fighter walked into the light and toward the giant screen that the Joker worked under. “What a mess. We barely escaped the Funhouse and now this,” Ghost Fighter said darkly. He jerked his thumb back toward where he came. “And what the hell does that giant penny even mean?”
“He tried to kill Harvey Dent with it once. Long story.”
“Of course it is,” Ghost Fighter muttered. His eyes narrowed as he again surveyed the bleak surroundings. High-pitched squeaks came from the depth of the cavern beyond, “To end up here. Of all places.”
“Hey, it’s not like Batman’s using it. Besides the secret lair of my archenemy is the last place they’ll look for us.”
“Maybe,” AGF said.
“You’re just still sore about them chasing you from your hotel room and impounding your toast.”
Ghost Fighter crossed his arms. “Forgive me. Fighting the National Guard makes me edgy.”
“Dry, but serviceably close to a joke. You’re coming along, Spooky.”
Ghost Fighter just grunted.
“Sure this place is dank and depressing now,” Joker said, waving a wrench around to indicate the expanse of the cave, “ but we get some throw pillows, maybe a beanbag, and soon this will be a resistance headquarters you can be proud of. And since the IRS froze my assets, it’s in our price range, so no whining.”
“What about the indoor swimming pool, Mista’ J?” Harley called from above.
“All in good time, sweetie,” Joker replied, still hard at work. Suddenly, a few sparks jumped from the service hatch and the display screen above lit up with static. “Eureka!” the Joked exclaimed.
“Oooooo!” Harley squeaked in delight and rappelled from the ceiling, sending a cloud of bats fluttering into the darkness.
The Joker pulled an overstuffed, pink and white polka dotted loveseat from near the stairway over in front of the computer’s display screen. The Joker opened a secret compartment in the loveseat’s side and took out a large bowl of buttered popcorn and sat down.
“Make way ‘Mazing,” Harley yelled and AGF stepped to the right. Harley ran past, leaped into the air, somersaulted over the back of the loveseat and ended up sitting next to her puddin’, already sinking his hand into the popcorn. Joker pulled a remote control, shaped like Howdy Doody’s head, out from between the loveseat’s cushions and Harley snatched it away from him. She pointed it at the computer screen and the static was replaced by the CBS logo.
“Don’t be a stick in the mud, Spooky,” Joker said, turning to face Ghost Fighter’s bleak stare. “Everyone else is just hunkering down tonight like we are. So relax and pull up a chair.” He indicated a metal chair under the workbench next to the loveseat.
AGF pulled out the chair, removed the whoopee cushion without even looking down, and took a seat.
“Nuts!” Joker said and snapped his fingers.
A black and white valentine appeared on the screen. Harley and Joker began bobbing their head in time, both humming along with the familiar theme. Suddenly, the Lucy opening was gone and replaced with a spartan title card that read simply, “Special Bulletin.”
A baritone voice intoned, “We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you a message from the President of the United States.”
Harley’s mouth dropped open, her eyes filled with utter horror. The Joker was speechless for a moment.
“He’s pre-empting.... Lucy?” The Joker finally managed. “The evil.... the diabolical evil....”
“He’s gone too far!” Harley whined.
Dwight D. Eisenhower, President of the United States, sat in the oval office. His face earnest and somber, only The Joker could detect the shadow of a sly smile hiding in his features. “My fellow Americans...”
The Joker reached his left arm over the side of the loveseat into its secret compartment. “Oh, heck. Let’s just get this out of the way right now.” A moment later, a rotten tomato exploded over the screen, right over Eisenhower’s head with a wet sound: (plop).
Eisenhower continued. “....the last few weeks have been difficult: The lawless riots in many of our streets brought about by the excesses of the metahuman community, the tragic events in Germany; and, of course--most sad of all--the revelations of the treacherous and criminal nature of many members of the corrupt Justice League of America.
(plop)
“I come before you tonight, however, to assure you that despite these tumultuous events, the nation is strong and is on its way to recovery. The Keene Act (plop) is, as we speak, already curtailing the violence in our cities and bringing the anarchist practitioners of mob rule to justice. Even more encouraging, The Sentinels Of Liberty have now opened chapters in every city, every town, and are successfully re-igniting the fire of patriotism in our young people’s hearts.”
“Never has the abbreviation ‘SOL’ been quite so apropos,” The Joker said, reloading.
“But,” Eisenhower said, “the hard work is far from over.
“I applaud the strong leadership of Senator Robert Kelly (plop) for his tireless efforts on behalf of the Metahuman Registration (plop) and Emergency Internment Act (plop). This bill is an important step and I look forward to signing it into law next week. I believe no American family should ever again be endangered by the strange and bizarre forces that have, for so long, operated with complete impunity and secrecy in our society.
“There are some who disagree with this view, and they have taken it upon themselves to loudly criticize this bill (plop), mostly for partisan political reasons. I would ask these individuals to take a long, hard look at their position. In this time of national crisis, we must be united and speak with one voice and act with one iron will. I hope these people will realize that the Internment Act is needed and just, and that their own personal political ambitions are not as important as the well being of the country. Only with all of us working together and doing our part will we hasten America’s recovery.
“We must also tirelessly strive to regain our confidence as a nation, a confidence recently shaken by the incompetence and treachery of the corrupt Justice League. (plop) (plop) (plop) We must remember, however, that before its current roster, the JLA was once a shining symbol of American supremacy and freedom throughout the world. It can be that again. Moreover, for the sake of America’s prestige and honor, it needs to be that again. We must regain its glory. The Justice League is the face of the United States for many all over the globe, and we must make sure that this face is an accurate and worthy one. The League’s membership should be limited to the finest individuals only: People who understand their place under the rule of law; people who seek to use their powers and skills selflessly for the public good, and not for their own self-aggrandizement; people who respect authority and the institutions that make our country great.
“In short, true heroes that all Americans can be proud of.”
“Here it comes....” Ghost Fighter muttered.
Eisenhower stood up and walked around to the front of his desk. “It is with great pleasure and honor that I now present to you the core members of the new Justice League of America!” Eisenhower swept his arm out and the camera followed it, panning left. Five figures came into view, standing proudly at the side of the Oval Office.
“The American Knight,” Eisenhower said, “the true heir of the original Red Knight.”
“Hopefully, Robbie the Robot is keeping Archie busy and he’s not seeing this,” The Joker said.
The camera panned to a humanoid form, completely covered with boiling fire. “Eternal Flame,” Eisenhower said, “the master of the fire of freedom.”
“Who’s the matchstick?” Harley asked.
“Can’t tell,” Ghost Fighter said. “His flame form completely obscures his appearance, which is probably the point. How many pyrotic villains are in circulation these days?”
“Could be someone new,” Joker said, stroking his chin pensively.
The screen now showed a stern, middle-aged man, dressed is a simple brown, homespun robe. He cradled a large, black mace to his chest. His eyes were moist and directed upward.
“Padre?” Joker asked, surprised. “This is a new look for you.”
“The sandals are a bit much,” Harley said.
“Many of you already know the reverend Nehemiah Scutter,” Eisenhower said. “He has now become America’s new holy avenger, blessed directly by God, Himself. He is nothing less than the Lord’s new Apostle on earth, a warrior prophet who will bring righteousness to our nation again. His presence here is living proof that America is, as we’ve always known, God’s Country and The Promised Land.”
Joker and Harley broke out in uncontrollable laughter.
“And people say I’m crazy! Wow!” Joker said.
Ghost Fighter pointed at the screen. “Look at what’s he’s holding. Baron Blitzkrieg’s mace.”
“Wait a sec.” The Joker came off the loveseat and hopped up on the computer console, leaning in close to the display screen. He took out a small squeegee from his pocket and started wiping off tomato streaks. He then whipped out a magnifying glass and carefully examined the Apostle on the screen.”
“Amazing!” Joker exclaimed. “Harley, come see this!”
Harley rushed over, climbed up beside The Joker and peered through the magnifying glass. “Oooooo,” she said.
“Aren’t all the little dots that make up the picture neat?” The Joker enthused.
Ghost Fighter’s headache got a tad worse. “He looks younger, too.”
“If he could only bottle the evil,” The Joker said as he and Harley hopped down and retook their positions on the loveseat, “he could make a million dollars in the beauty biz.”
“Lady Liberty,” Eisenhower said, the screen now showing a large woman, completely covered by thick steel armor molded to resemble her famous namesake, “the armored titan of the American way.”
“It’s the Iron Maiden with a bad paint job!” the Joker sputtered. “America won’t buy this crap, right? Right? Edger R. Murrow will point it out, or something?”
“They arrested Murrow two days ago for sedition,” Ghost Fighter said.
“And finally,” Eisenhower said, “the living legend whose heroism exposed the corruption that had taken root in the former Justice League. The patriotic spirit of the country, ladies and gentlemen, the new leader of this ultimate Justice League, Captain America!”
“Hiya, ‘Cap,’” Joker snarled and hurled another tomato. “This is as bad as it gets.”
“And now let me turn this over to American’s new spiritual leader, the Reverend Nehemiah Scutter, to lead us all in a prayer of deliverance for our nation,” Eisenhower said solemnly.
Joker’s face went blank. “Harley. Remote.”
“Right!” Harley said and leaped over the back of the couch. She ran to one of the stacked boxes near the stairs and hauled out a machine gun. AGF dived for cover and Harley opened up, shattering the display screen in a deafening volley of gunfire.
As the echo of the reports in the cave faded into the steady flapping of many leather wings, Ghost Fighter cautiously stood up from behind the upended workbench.
“He meant the remote control, Harley,” Ghost Fighter said.
“No,” the Joker said darkly. “I didn’t.”
Chapter 13: “From Sea To Shining Sea”
An ocular sensor still functioned in one of the many smashed android bodies that littered the burning ruins of JLA headquarters.