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Post by DocQuantum on Feb 22, 2022 5:41:40 GMT
Secret Origins: The Sword: Times Past, 1942 The Chosen One
by Doc Quantum, partially adapted from The Sword, Captain Courageous Comics #6, by Joe GallagherThe Sword was a stranger in a strange land, but even though he found himself in a world so different from his own fantastic realm of super-science and powerful magic, there was one thing both worlds had in common: whenever you spotted a damsel in distress, you helped her.That was why this other-dimensional Paladin of Light had slashed and shattered a steel-barred window with his rune-inscribed sword and now hurtled through it, protected only by the golden chainmail he wore."The Sword!" cried a beautiful dark-haired woman in a green dress, whose hand was caught in the grip of a madman."So there's the meddler!" cried the Black Master. He was a bald madman in a purple hooded monk's robe, a hateful expression on his face. Backing off, he pushed the girl away with one hand, and pulled a dagger from his knife sheath on his belt with the other."Oooh!" screamed the woman as she was pushed, and nearly lost her balance."I'll fix this bird," cackled the Black Master, dagger in hand, "pin him to the wall -- that's what!"But the man called the Sword didn't stop. "Here I come, ready or not!" he said tauntingly. My Oracle Ring sure comes in handy for picking up local colloquialisms, he thought to himself.The Black Master's arm came down, and the dagger sped toward the Sword. The girl in the green dress flinched as she thought, He keeps coming! He'll be killed! He'll--! No!But at the last split-second, the Sword moved almost supernaturally fast as he ducked out of the way of the expertly-thrown dagger, which kept flying and passed harmlessly through the shattered window behind him.The Black Master's eyes widened in shock as he realized the dagger had missed his foe, and he immediately cried out, "HEY! HAAALP!""And now, as they like to say in this realm, for the good ol'-fashioned American way!" said the Sword, allowing his momentum to bowl the villain over, knocking him to the floor.The Black Master groaned in pain as he struck the ground with a thud, but his call for help had worked, for at the far doorway a group of hired thugs were already entering the room."Get him, men!" shouted one of them."Look out, Sword!" screamed the woman.But the warning was in vain, for the Sword soon found himself attacked by several thugs at once, who leaped upon his back and pulled at his neck, arms, and legs. Even with his great strength, he would only be able to fight them off for so long. There were too many of them, and he was powerless to use his sword to kill.This isn't exactly how I pictured things going back when I discovered that cave and found not only my sword but also my destiny, thought the mystery-man as he struggled to fight off the attacking henchmen, throwing haymakers left and right. Of course, back then things seemed so much simpler... almost like a fairy-tale. |
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Post by DocQuantum on Feb 22, 2022 5:44:29 GMT
Back then:
Once upon a time in another realm, a fifteen-year-old boy named Maarkus Laak accompanied his father to the wondrous planet Lumen. Maarkus was rather small and weak compared to other boys his age, and although his heart was brave, he had always lacked the strength to stand up against the bullying of his larger schoolyard companions while growing up. He yearned to be not only big and strong, but also to do something worthwhile, just like his father.
The sandy-haired young man had lived all his life on the water-world Hydara, one of the smallest planets in the Incandescent Empire, and this was the first time his father had taken him to Lumen as his apprentice. He rightfully considered it a great honor. The great industrialist Ortharr Laak had been summoned there along with several other former and current champions to meet with King Wyn and his advisors, the wise men known collectively as the Circle of Light.
For many years, the empire had been embroiled in the Great Cosmic War, which began when the current High King came of age to inherit the throne, but several rival kings had sought to claim the throne instead for themselves. Brother fought against brother, and a son against his father. Although the war eventually ended, the Incandescent Empire was left a divided kingdom.
To unite the Incandescent Empire under his rulership, the High King had founded the Immortal Aces as the greatest assembly of champions in all the worlds, named after the first and most renowned of their number. The Immortal Aces had worked tirelessly to help restore order to the far-flung worlds that had fallen into lawlessness, and had helped rebuild after the devastation of the war, which had left its mark on every member planet. It was only now, years after its founding, that the entire membership of the Immortal Aces was able to be brought together for this grand council. A new era of peace had begun, but the years to come would be challenging for all.
Maarkus watched in admiration as his father Ortharr Laak greeted the Immortal Aces at Wyndale Spaceport. Long before Maarkus was born, Ortharr had fought for the High King at the beginning of the Great Cosmic War as the Flying Ace. His reputation as a fearless fighter, despite having no powers of his own except his unrivalled skills as a pilot and a fighter, had inspired a generation of powerful and fearless champions who would comprise the membership of the Immortal Aces after the Flying Ace's retirement.
Like knights of old, the Immortal Aces were equipped with suits of plasteel/titanium armor capable of independent space flight, each one emblazoned with a unique heroic banner of various colors and styles. The Immortal Aces all had amazing powers or extraordinary fighting abilities, while some also possessed certain artifacts such as firearms, amulets, or other equipment that gave them even greater abilities or enhanced the ones they already had.
The boy's mouth was agape as he spotted many of the most famous Immortal Aces, and silently named them one by one: Captain Courageous, Lash Lightning, Magno, the Flag, the Unknown, and Vulcan, among others. He could hardly believe that his own father had been the original Flying Ace who had inspired them all in his numerous outer space dogfights against such foes as Baron Blackvale or the Iron Prince. Maarkus had grown up hearing the legends of each of these champions and now found himself so much in awe that he hardly noticed when his father had spoken to him.
"Maarkus," said Ortharr. The boy turned and looked at him as if in a dream. His father, looking dignified with a large mustache and a suit of blue and white befitting Hydara's ocean and white island cliffs, smiled indulgently at the young man until he was sure he had fully gained his attention. "Lumen holds many mysteries. You are welcome to explore to your heart's content while we meet with the High King, but do not stray too far. And be sure to return before nightfall."
The youngster nodded in agreement and watched as his father left with the Aces. He kept watching until they were out of sight, and it was only then he realized that he was now all alone. At first Maarkus visited the markets outside the spaceport and the city proper, but he soon became bored and decided to wander into the countryside beyond the city, after making sure to set an alarm on his timepiece so that he wouldn't keep his father waiting.
Wyndale was a shining, golden city of tall towers surrounded by green pastureland in a broad valley, but the war had left its mark even here. Maarkus was surprised to find, scattered all around, huge craters left by bombs. Although the valley of Wyndale had been largely protected from bombing by electromagnetic shields that detonated bombs in the atmosphere, some of those bombs still occasionally managed to make their way through and strike the ground, wreaking havoc.
Because Hydara was such a remote planet, Maarkus had seen little of the war himself and was fascinated by the effects of such destructive bombs upon the land outside the city. Without realizing it, he had soon followed the path of destruction into a hilly area as if drawn there by some powerful impulse, the first of many such impulses that would guide him well throughout his life.
As he neared the edge of one particularly large crater, Maarkus was surprised to find that a bomb had apparently blasted through the surface and into an old cavern, the entrance to which was under a group of dead trees. Looking around, Maarkus could see no one else in sight and wondered at the wisdom of exploring it. After all, the most fearsome of creatures -- dragons -- were known to inhabit caves such as these, even if they hadn't been seen in centuries. Pushing aside his fear, the young man left the bright daylight behind as he entered the cavern.
With each step Maarkus found himself farther and farther from any source of light, surrounded only by all-encompassing darkness. But the same impulse that had drawn him there now spurred him ever onward into the darkness. The sounds of the upper world were drowned out by complete silence, in which Maarkus could only hear his rapidly beating heart.
Many long minutes that seemed like an eternity passed as the boy traveled through the cavern, until he finally entered a large underground chamber that he could sense more than see. Somehow, he knew he was in the presence of something strange. His widened eyes began to perceive dim light that broke through the darkness as shapes around him slowly began to become visible.
And then he saw it -- the sword.
It was an ancient sword, he was sure, that had been left in this underground chamber for eons before the bomb blasts uncovered it. As he approached, the sword seemed to grow brighter with each step, until he could see that he was in a great hall that appeared to be an ancient armory full of old relics such as suits of armor, lances, swords, axes, and shields.
But his eyes were drawn back to the sword, which he could see was covered with ancient runes that radiated with light. It was also embedded within the rock, as if it had been placed upon it long ago, only to sink halfway into it during the long ages since then.
"This must be the lost tomb of the Dragon Knight, if this is his famous runesword... Dragonspirit," Maarkus muttered aloud to himself, reciting what he knew only from a legend of a thousand years ago. "Only one with a pure heart can wield it, lest he be destroyed by the flame from within."
In a dreamlike state, Maarkus couldn't have been more astonished than he already was when the rock wall behind him suddenly lit the chamber with flickering light. As he turned, he saw that runes like the one on the sword had appeared on the wall, lit as if from behind. The runes were ancient, but Maarkus had been educated in the high tongue of the Dragon race and could understand them. With some effort, he managed to translate them into his own language.
The runes stated the following:
"Maarkus of Hydara, you are the Chosen One. Take Dragonspirit and use it in the cause of Liberty and Justice. Then, because your heart is Pure, you shall have the strength of many times ten."
The young man stood there staring at those flaming runes until they slowly faded from sight. Suddenly his timepiece blared at him, startling him out of his trancelike state. Knowing he now had little time to get back to the spaceport after wandering so far out into the countryside, Maarkus ran for the cave entrance without a moment's thought, almost stumbling through the darkness.
After an indeterminate amount of time he found himself outside the cavern once more, only to see by the reddened sky above that it was already dusk. He almost ran off but stopped himself as he looked around and realized that in this hilly, wooded area he would never be able to find the cave again. Thus, after marking the dead trees over the entrance, he ran back to Wyndale the same way he'd left it. All the way back he kept wondering about the runesword, and what would happen if he tried to wield it. If the writing on the wall was true, then he had been chosen as its new wielder, but if he proved to be unworthy, then legend had it he would be consumed by flames from within.
Besides, he was a mere boy. If this really was Dragonspirit, then shouldn't a great champion like Captain Courageous or one of the other Immortal Aces have been chosen instead of him? Could he have been merely seeing something he wished to see? The darkness could have played tricks on his mind down there, where he felt like he was in a dream.
By the time Maarkus returned to Wyndale, he found only a few Immortal Aces and their aides still milling about and was thankful that his father hadn't appeared to have noticed his absence. He was able to catch his breath after a few moments before his father finally approached him and motioned for him to follow him into a waiting aircar. On the ride to a local inn to spend the night, his father told Maarkus all about the grand plans that the High King had for the Incandescent Empire, including a peacetime rearmament program that would mean a lot of business for his company, but the boy barely retained a word of it. His mind was too busy trying to figure out how he could get his rock-embedded runesword onto the ship before their departure from Lumen the next day.
That evening, Maarkus left his rooms at the inn under the cover of darkness in order to seek out help to retrieve the sword. After a quick search, he happened to find two men nearby with a gravi-cart who had just finished work a couple of hours earlier. Although they were very strong and able-bodied, the two workmen were also somewhat inebriated after a visit to a pub, and thought it nothing more than a big laugh to visit a dark old cave at night. Equipped with flashlights and excavating equipment, Maarkus and the workmen located the same marked cavern, this time bearing lights as they entered. In the underground chamber, the workmen used lasers to separate the rock from the floor, which they transported back to Wyndale by gravi-cart.
Maarkus found the workmen almost unendurable for their crass drunkenness, and even more for their superstitiousness, but they nevertheless knew what they were doing and soon enough brought the sword in the rock back to the spaceport. There, Maarkus used a key to enter his father's ship and had the workmen place it in the ship's hold.
"Now, remember," he told the two drunk workmen, "if you say a word to anyone, I'll come back and haunt you!"
The two workmen guffawed at this, and one said, "Aye, young sir! But I still don't know what ye want this junk fer. Ah, but tis not fer us to wonder. Ye've paid us well enough."
"Aye, time-and-a-half, no less!" said the other. At that the two turned and went on their way as they began singing a bawdy tune, in search of another pub that was still open at this late hour.
Maarkus inwardly winced at how much he'd had to give them to make it worth their while to interrupt their after-hours festivities. He had used a great deal of his meager savings to pay for this expensive night job, and he hoped it was worth it. He believed he'd found something more precious than gold, even if he felt like a fool for thinking so.
It was close to dawn by the time Maarkus finally locked up the ship and made his way back to his room at the inn. He had barely closed his eyes and gotten a few winks of sleep before his father knocked on his door to wake him up for another long day of duty as an apprentice. Maarkus would end up spending the rest of the day with a headache as he tried to keep from falling asleep, while assisting Ortharr Laak as the great industrialist made plans to fill many upcoming orders of military equipment.
Finally, that night, it was time for the voyage home to Hydara. After ensuring that he'd forgotten nothing, the boy was finally able to relax and catch a bit of sleep as his father piloted the ship that took them back to their homeworld. As his father droned on about how much he looked forward to returning to his duties on Hydara, Maarkus fell asleep thinking of what he might do once he finally had the runesword safely back home, and how it might change his life forever if the legend turned out to be true.
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Post by DocQuantum on Feb 22, 2022 11:41:47 GMT
Now:
The man who was soon to be known as the Sword had inexplicably arrived in the realm of Earth in January of the Year of Our Lord 1942, only to immediately encounter the Immortal Aces of this world, who were known as the Justice Society of America. Although Green Lantern and the Flash, along with the rest of that team, at first took him to be nothing more than a Nazi saboteur, they soon discovered that he was on the side of the angels. (*)
[(*) Editor's note: See Justice Society of America: The Man Who Fell to Earth.]
Now this Paladin of Light, as Maarkus had eventually become, found himself stranded in this brave new world. It had been a few days since his arrival, and Maarkus had used the magic ring he wore, his Oracle Ring, to help him adapt to this world a bit more as he traveled from city to city, and the first thing he did was to come up with the American-sounding name of Mark Lake. It would certainly be much easier for these Americans to spell Mark Lake than Maarkus Laak, at any rate.
The second thing he did was to change his armor. The Oracle Ring had automatically chosen for him an outfit that fit in with the local culture's clothing, but the all-white military-style uniform he'd worn had inadvertently made him look a bit like a milkman, as Green Lantern had put it, or as a U.S. Navy seaman as Johnny Thunder had later remarked. Mark didn't want anyone to be reminded of either of those uniforms when they saw him. Since he could see that the champions -- or mystery-men -- of this world had a wide variety of costumes, he realized that the same armor he'd worn on Lumen looked just fine here on Earth whenever he was performing his knightly duties. He would just use the Oracle Ring to transform his armor into civilian clothing whenever he wasn't acting as a Paladin of Light.
Finally, Mark knew that he would also need a name similar to the local mystery-men of this world if he was to work alongside them and eventually gain their assistance to return to his adopted homeworld of Lumen someday, if that were possible. He had referred to himself as a Paladin of Light, but somehow that didn't seem fitting to use as a mystery-man name. Until he could come up with something, he was content to remain as Mark Lake as he made his way in this new world.
Without the help of his Oracle Ring, it would have been quite difficult to live a normal life. Thankfully, this little trinket that he had picked up during his other-dimensional adventures as a knight proved to be quite useful in that regard. Consulting it, he had learned much about this world and even now had unique insight into the job market. Due to a recent economic depression, there were few jobs to be found for unskilled laborers with no job history, but the Oracle Ring could tell him where those could be found. After that, as Mark Lake he merely needed to show up for an interview and bluff his way through the questions. He wasn't comfortable with any kind of deception beyond what was absolutely necessary to maintain a secret identity, as they called it on this world, so he truthfully answered questions as they came. But instead of explaining that he had spent several years as an Immortal Ace in service to the High King, he simply told the interviewer that he had worked in security for a few years, protecting nobility and commoners alike.
Despite his flimsy resume, Mark Lake was soon hired on at the Mains Aircraft manufacturing plant in New Jersey. Although he had applied for a position as a security guard, he was instead hired on as a janitor. It was in this capacity that Mark was sweeping the floors as he passed by the boardroom of the factory.
Driven by an impulse that had never steered him wrong, he bent over to listen at the keyhole and heard snippets of a discussion at an emergency meeting of the Board of Directors.
"Gentlemen, this is the second theft of valuable blueprints that has occurred," said a man that Mark recognized to be the president of Mains Aircraft, a man who reminded him somewhat of his own father. "And these thefts haven't just been happening here, but at other defense plants all over the nation. I tell you, something must be done!"
"But what?" replied a member of the Board of Directors. "The government agents can't find a single clue! I'm afraid the plans of our latest super-bomber will be stolen next."
Mark Lake considered what he had heard. As was so often the case, he had been in the right place at the right time to hear a valuable bit of information. "Fifth Columnists stealing airplane plans, huh? I may have to find those spies myself."
"Hey, you!" called a security guard from twenty paces away. "What are you doing over there?"
Mark had been startled, but quickly recovered and continued sweeping the floor as if he'd heard nothing. The guard, already on alert because of the threat of espionage, wasn't about to drop it. Soon, even the company president and the Board of Directors heard the racket and became involved. Although Mark tried to explain himself, he had to admit that he'd eavesdropped and had overheard the conversation.
As a consequence, he was immediately fired from his first job in this realm. But as far as he was concerned, he had found his next mission as a wandering Paladin of Light, and the job itself had only ever been secondary to his duties as a mystery-man. He vowed to discover who was behind the theft of those blueprints, just as he'd always vowed to do only good since the beginning back then.
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Post by DocQuantum on Feb 22, 2022 11:43:21 GMT
Now:
With a mere thought, Mark Lake was transformed from his drab civilian garb into the same heroic champion that he had first become when he was merely the fifteen-year-old Maarkus Laak of Hydara. It would take many years, and a grand quest for the Chalice of Life to save High King Wyn from almost-certain death, but eventually Maarkus would prove himself to be the greatest of Immortal Aces, gaining such great honor in that mystical team that he would be selected to become one of the Paladins of Light, an elite order of knights that served both as emissaries of the Circle of Light and as the honor guard for Queen Rose. He would also gain a fearsome enemy in the evil Magnus Greel, and engage in an epic battle throughout space and time via the mythical Hallway of Doors, which would eventually strand him on Earth. But those were tales for another time.
"Now I am ready to find those thieving Fifth Columnists," he vowed. At his side, his trusty enchanted blade had become visible once more, no longer hidden from the eyes of men.
It was now after dark, and with the assistance of his Oracle Ring the Paladin was able to sneak back unseen into the Mains Aircraft factory, where he hid himself in the filing room and waited. He would not have to wait for too long, as suddenly he heard voices and a shuffling of feet, followed by the sound of a door opening. Looking around a corner in the darkened room, the mystery-man watched as a man pushed a young woman in a green dress through the doorway leading from the outside parking lot.
"Let's make it snappy and then get out of here!" he said in a threatening guttural tone. The rat-faced gangster was smoking a cigarette that dangled from the corner of his mouth as he gripped his filthy hand over the woman's arm, leading her toward the filing cabinets
As he peered through the darkness, Mark was surprised to find that he recognized the girl as she rifled through the blueprints in search for the super-bomber plans. Why, that girl is the company president's new secretary, hired just a few days ago, he realized. What was her name, again? Naomi Johnson, I think she called herself. But even without my Oracle Ring, I could tell there was something off about her and this whole arrangement. Well, I guess there's only one way to get some answers.
"May I help you?" the Paladin of Light said, stepping forward with his runesword drawn and glowing with inner flame.
"What th'--?!" muttered the crook, quickly reaching into his pocket for his pistol.
The secretary gasped at the sight of the mystery-man and fell back into a nearby chair.
"This'll help you, pal -- to a one-way ride!" growled the thug as he fired his gun at point-blank range.
But the mystery-man had encountered firearms much more powerful than his M1911 before on his homeworld and in realms beyond, and easily deflected the bullet with Dragonspirit.
"Strike three!" said the hero, and brought the flat of his sword swiftly down upon the crook's head. "You're out, cold!" And thanks again Oracle Ring for introducing me to America's national pastime, even if it's not exactly baseball season just yet.
Turning toward the girl, the mystery-man took hold of her arm and none too gently lifted her out of the chair. "Get up! And explain yourself!"
"Who are you supposed to be -- the Shining Knight--" she cried, taken aback, "--or the Sword?"
"Just consider me a concerned citizen, lady," he replied. "Now tell me, Naomi -- if that is your real name -- why are you doing this? Why are you stealing from the company?"
"It wasn't my choice, believe me, Sword -- or whatever you call yourself!" she replied, her hands behind her back. "I'm being forced to do so by the Black Master. He's going to kill my father if I refuse him!"
Mark frowned in suspicion as he listened, because something still didn't sit right with him. However, his Oracle Ring warned him why too late, for as the woman brought her hands before her again, she was clutching her purse, which emitted a gas from a canister within, even as she pressed a tiny gas-mask over her face.
"I'm sorry to do this, but I must!" she cried, even as the mystery-man began to cough from the gas, finally collapsing to the floor within moments.
Bending down to check on him to ensure he was still breathing, the dark-haired woman who had used the alias of Naomi Johnson then turned back to the cabinet and continued her search through the blueprints until she found what she sought. "Here they are," she said triumphantly, "the plans of the super-bomber! I must hurry before 'Sir Galahad,' here, regains consciousness."
With a great deal of effort, the woman dragged the henchman by his arms to the door, opened it, and dragged him outside again before taking a moment to take a piece of wadded-up paper out of the strike plate in the door frame, which had prevented the spring-loaded latch from locking the door. She had placed it there earlier in the day during working hours, which then allowed her and the crook to enter without needing a key.
The girl turned to rush out the door once again, but looked over at the mystery-man and decided to take a moment. "I really am very sorry about this, Sword," she whispered as she knelt down, raised her gas-mask, and kissed his forehead. "The stakes are too high for me to let an amateur interfere with my plans at this point, especially since you don't appear to be the same mystery-man who's worn a mask as the Sword over the past year or so." (*) Rising once more, she left the filing room and dragged the crook into her car. She had an appointment to keep with the Black Master, and she could not be late.
[(*) Editor's note: See Chic Carter, Smash Comics #24 (July, 1941).]
Moments later, Mark Lake suddenly came to as the gas dissipated into the air. "Whew!" he gasped. "I'm still dizzy, but my strength overcame that gas! I don't understand why my ring didn't warn me sooner about her though. Something strange about that girl, something that doesn't quite meet the eye. Still, whatever it is can wait. I've got to catch up to her and follow 'Naomi' if I'm ever going to retrieve those stolen plans!"
Leaving the filing room through the same exit door, the mystery-man ran off down the road as fast as his feet could take him. The Mains Aircraft Manufacturing Plant only had one exit, with a long driveway through a forested area before any and all personnel and visitors had to stop at a checkpoint. But as he raced down the road he found the checkpoint unmanned and the gate wide open.
Taking a closer look, he was shocked to find a guard knocked out, his hands tied behind his back with the power cord of a nearby portable heater. "Well, well, well," Mark muttered aloud as he surveyed the scene. "This doesn't look like the job of that gunman I encountered back at the factory; he seemed ready to gun anyone down for interfering. And besides, I knocked him out enough to keep him unconscious for a good long while. No, from the looks of this, whoever did this took great pains to incapacitate the guard without injuring him or allowing him to alert any other guards. No signs of violence at all, except for a tiny mark on the guard's jawline. Hmm... just who are you really, 'Naomi Johnson'?"
The exhaust was still hanging in the air as well. "This just happened. They can't be far from here," Mark realized, and ran off down the street that, at this late hour, was deserted except for one car in the distance that he could spot only by its taillights. "Got you," he said aloud. "Once I catch up, I should be able to keep up with that car easily." Accordingly, the mystery-man leaped into the air and soared high above the streets, for the gift of flight was one of the many abilities that his sword Dragonspirit had granted him.
"The Sword, huh? That's what our mystery-girl called me back there," he said to himself. "It's got a nice ring to it. Hopefully nobody else is using the name, or I might just be called into court for a case of copyright infringement." He chuckled at that, but as he flew to catch up with the vehicle, he began to think it was the perfect name for his new career as a mystery-man on this world. "It certainly seems to fit in better with the names of this world's heroes than the more fanciful Paladin of Light. If I'm going to ever find a way to get back home, I'll have to find all the help I can from these mystery-men. So what better way to do so than by becoming one of them?"
As the Sword caught up to the car, he managed to hide himself behind a billboard as the vehicle stopped at a red light, allowing him to see into the car and confirm what he had suspected. It was indeed the dark-haired mystery-woman in the green dress who was driving the car. And as for the thug, he was still unconscious and not only slumped over in the back seat, but also tied up.
"Just what game are you playing, lady?" Mark muttered aloud. "At any event, it's certain that she's heading for the Black Master's hideout, if that story about her father's life being threatened was true. The Oracle Ring certainly didn't sense any falsehood in that story at least."
The Sword continued to follow her car from a distance as it drove down a long highway toward the mountains, taking great pains to keep from being seen, which might have ruined everything. But he couldn't help wonder if she had seen him in the rearview mirror after all, because each time he started falling behind due to having to keep himself from being seen by anyone on the ground, the car would slow down enough for him to catch up. It didn't make any sense to him just yet, but she appeared to want him to follow her, and the Oracle Ring seemed to agree with his assessment. The mystery-man would have to wait for the puzzle of this mystery-woman to be resolved.
An hour passed like this as the Sword trailed the car up a long, winding mountain road a few miles north of Gotham City, until finally he was able to stop and take note of their current location. The car had entered a road marked with a No Exit sign that led to a huge building that reminded Mark of an old castle from the planet Lumen. But upon closer inspection, the Sword saw that this was no castle at all, but an old monastery. A sign informed him that it was called Rest-Haven.
"So this is the place?" he said, looking at the monastery. "Doesn't seem like the kind of place that would make a good criminal hideout, let alone a base of operations for crooks stealing weapons plans, but maybe that's exactly why this Black Master fellow picked it. Well, won't they be in for a surprise!"
Silently, the Sword crept up to the monastery, taking great pains to keep from being seen by the lookouts he spotted along its rooftop turrets. As he inspected the grounds, his suspicions were confirmed. Sure enough, this was a genuine monastery that had apparently been taken over by a gang of criminals. The peaceful-looking monks had either been confined to their quarters or were being forced to prepare and serve food to the gang under the watchful eyes of their captors.
Most startling of all was the sight of the leader of this criminal gang, the Black Master himself, for he was dressed in a hooded robe that looked startling like the monks' robes, except for its distinctive purple hue. Could this Black Master have come from the ranks of these peaceful-looking monks? If so, how had he successfully hidden the evil that lurked in his heart for so long? That would be a question for another day.
For now, the Sword was content to watch from an arched outer window as he saw the Black Master approach the newly arrived mystery-girl in the green dress. He couldn't hear anything within the monastery, but he could see the Black Master grow increasingly agitated as the woman explained what had happened.
The Sword shook his head. This was getting out of hand. Whatever this mystery-girl was up to, she was dealing with an obviously deranged man capable of anything, judging from the Black Master's mannerisms. Watching as the villain grabbed the woman by her wrist and twisted it behind her back, before pulling her purse away from her and tossing it to one of his henchmen, the Sword had to fight his first instinct to burst through the window and rescue her, at least until he could ensure her safety. As capable as she seemed to be, she was still a damsel in distress and would need his help at the right time.
That time came soon after, as the Sword climbed up the rough brick outer walls of the monastery in order to follow the Black Master and his female captive to what appeared to be an observatory on the other side of the large structure. But the mystery-man was unprepared for what he saw there; this had been an observatory at one time, but it now appeared to serve a wholly different purpose.
"By Hydara's maelstroms!" cried the Sword. "What in the world is that machine in there?"
The Sword saw a strange sight within the modified observatory, whose domed roof had been rolled open to better view the sky. But instead of a huge telescope, which had apparently been removed, a tower had been built at its center, and atop that tower was what looked like an antiaircraft gun turret, though none that he would have expected to find on this world, at least for several decades. His Oracle Ring had only limited information about it, but gave Mark the sense that it was some kind of long-range energy-pulse weapon. Suddenly the stakes of this little adventure had grown immensely.
Within the monastery's observatory, the Black Master was still gripping the mystery-girl's arm, shaking her roughly as he spat out his response to her story. "I should have you flogged for letting yourself get caught by this Sword fellow!"
"Please don't hurt me, Master!" she cried, flinching from the pain. "I did my best!"
Outside the steel-barred window, the Sword had seen and heard enough. It was time to take action at last, and it would take more than a steel window to stop him.
"Here goes!" he muttered to himself as he pulled out his runesword and slashed through the steel-barred window, then hurtled his body through it. But his brief encounter with the Black Master resulted in his being attacked by a gang of henchmen, as we have already seen. (*)
[(*) Editor's note: See this story's prologue.]
Presently, the Sword was finally overcome by sheer force of numbers, despite his great strength. The Black Master ordered him tied to a chair and disarmed.
The Sword stifled a laugh as he tugged at the ropes binding his arms, legs, and torso to a chair. "How long do you think this'll hold me?" he said to the Black Master.
"Big talk!" growled the villain, pulling the struggling girl away with him. "I'll take care of you later. I've got other work to do now!"
"Please don't hurt him!" cried the mystery-girl.
"That's enough out of you, Miss Roberts!" Pushing her to a wall, the Black Master turned to two henchmen and gave them his orders. "Bring the girl's father in here, and make it snappy!" The two men quickly left for another room.
The Sword narrowed his eyes as he watched events unfold. He had made a mental note of the girl's true surname being Roberts, and watched as the villain grabbed her once again and pulled her through a doorway, leaving him in the room alone with the gang. They all knew what that meant. He was fair game.
The brawniest of the thugs, a huge bald man with an eyepatch named Scar for the slash that had deeply scarred his left cheek and blinded him in that eye, grinned as he reached for the hilt of the runesword.
"I wouldn't touch Dragonspirit if I were you," warned the Sword, staring at him with an utterly serious expression. "Only one with a pure heart can wield it, lest he be destroyed by the flame from within."
Scar merely guffawed and grabbed the hilt, drawing it out of the scabbard. "Ya don't like me touchin' yer sissy li'l dragon-sword, do ya?" he laughed. "Well, maybe you'll feel better if you take a look at it up close." And he drew the tip of the blade to the mystery-man's chin.
"I'm warning you. This is your last chance," said the Sword, completely unruffled.
Scar jerked his thumb at him and turned to the other thugs. "Get a load o' this guy. Thinks he's gonna warn me, huh? Well, maybe if I cut that tongue outta his face, he'd shut up."
But as the goon thrust it forward with intent to harm, he suddenly stopped, his eyes growing wide as he dropped the blade to the stone floor and clutched his stomach in great pain.
"What is it, Scar?" said another of the toughs. "You don' look so good."
"Get away from me!" growled Scar. "All o' youse! Get away! I need some air! So hot in here, I--"
Suddenly, Scar's massive barrel-like chest seemed to burst open as flames erupted from his mouth, and rivers of flame burst all over his skin. "AAA-AAA-AAAGHH!" The other henchmen backed off quickly as the fire spread quickly, burning his clothing and causing his skin to blacken with heat. It was over within a matter of seconds, as flames from within consumed Scar's body utterly, until there was little left but ashes.
"I warned him," was all that the Sword had to say. One of the thugs kicked the fallen sword over to a wall, but none of them dared to touch it after that.
In a nearby room, the Black Master's voice was little more than a low growl as he stared into the girl's face with crazed eyes and said, "I know you betrayed me and led this clumsy fool here! For that you die! And I'll make your father watch you die!"
"No!" cried Miss Roberts. "NO! Please!"
Clutching his bony hand over her mouth to stop her screams, the villain pulled her back into the observatory room and over to the Sword. "In the meantime, you fool," he said to him, "I have a surprise for you!" Pushing the girl roughly to the ground once more, the Black Master strode over to the tower and walked halfway up the stone steps that circled it before stopping to point up to the strange gun turret at its top. "See this machine?" he cackled. "With the help of our dear Professor Roberts, I have just finished it! It makes the plans I have stolen useless to me now, for it is the greatest death weapon of the ages! It alone will enable me to conquer all of America!"
The Sword waited patiently as the madman continued to speak. With his great strength he could have escaped at any time, but he needed to let the Black Master tell him everything he would in order to find out how the machine worked. Whatever the truth of it was, Mark Lake didn't believe this defrocked monk, or whatever he was, could possibly have built this death weapon alone, no matter what he claimed.
Now at the top of the tower, the Black Master grasped a flip handle electrical switch firmly with his right hand and shouted to the Sword below, as if gloating about his plans to a formidable but vanquished foe, "When I turn on this switch, the death fan at the top of the machine will revolve slowly, throwing out a ray that will kill all the people in its path! Only I am immune because of the insulated suit I wear!"
The madman seemed almost gleeful as he ran back down the stone steps to continue his tirade, but the Sword couldn't help but notice that the villain's own henchmen began to shift uncomfortably at his words.
Grabbing several stolen blueprints from a nearby table, the Black Master grasped the scrolls and lit a match. With crazed eyes he held the match up to the scrolls and said, "Just to show my contempt for America's defense weapons, I'll burn the blueprints I have stolen from factories all over the country!" At that he lit the scrolls aflame and watched as they began to burn from the ends.
The Sword frowned as he watched the spectacle, convinced that he was dealing with a complete madman. But the evil monk's insanity would work in his favor, since the mystery-man wouldn't have to worry about getting the blueprints back, if they were destroyed, though his first priority was to stop the death-ray.
The Black Master laughed and swatted out the flames on his robes. "Still... I have already lined up foreign buyers who are willing to pay me a pretty penny for these plans, outmoded as they have suddenly become. Perhaps I'll let them buy these from me before I destroy their nations as well with my death-machine!"
The two henchmen were now returning with their captive. "Ah, here's the man of the hour now!" The Black Master cackled and said, "Professor Roberts, you shall be the first to bear witness to what you and I have wrought!"
"Dad!" cried the girl as she saw her father, a brilliant scientist reduced to his current state. "Dad, are you OK?!"
The white-haired old man, bruised and beaten, raised his head to peer through his spectacles to see his captor. "M-Martha?" he muttered. "Is -- is that really you, my child?"
"Such a touching reunion, but an all-too-brief one, I'm afraid!" said the Black Master, who seemed overjoyed at what he was about to do as he motioned the two henchmen to fasten the older man to a stake in the ground with ropes. "Good Professor Roberts, despite your great brilliance you have caused me nothing but endless annoyance in your non-stop pleading to see your daughter, while failing to recognize the beauty of what our co-mingled creative energies have sired -- a perfect method of execution for the entire human race!
"Of course, I have no plans as yet to kill off everyone," continued the crazed villain as he ensured that the old scientist was firmly secured. "After all, I will still need a fraction of the population to be my slaves once the great work is accomplished." He stopped and, with a dismissive wave of his hands, said to his men, "You may leave now."
After the last henchman had left the observatory, the Black Master continued his tirade. "Americans are simply consumed with pesky ideas of liberty, justice, and freedom, none of which will be of use in the new age of serfdom that I have planned. They will all, of course, have to perish first, followed by every one of the nations currently at war with each other. The Axis and the Allies -- what use are they to me? All I need is to keep a few of the more primitive, subservient peoples alive, and I will have all I need.
"Just think of it, Professor! Thanks to you and I, we will usher in a new world in which there will be no war, no starvation -- no suffering at all beyond that which is presently necessary! We can remake the world into a paradise once again, and we will accomplish something undreamed of by my monastic order -- why, we can defeat the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse themselves! Conquest, war, hunger, and death -- where is thy sting?" The villain grinned. "Well, this will sting a lot at first, but as they say, you must break a few eggs to make an omelet, isn't that right, Professor?
"And now, without further adieu, we shall see something -- something quite grand, if I do say so myself!" cried the Black Master, and clutched the struggling girl's arm once more.
"N-no! No, please!" cried Professor Roberts. "Please don't kill my daughter!"
Martha Roberts went limp and slumped over, apparently having fainted from both the ordeal she'd been through and what she was about to experience. With a growl of frustration, the Black Master picked up the slender girl and slung her over his shoulders, then trekked back up the circular stone steps to the top of the tower. "Yes, yes, yes. Now we shall see something."
Reaching the top, the villain hoisted the girl up to the end of the cannon and tied her firmly to it, then looked down below at his captive audience: the Sword and Professor Roberts. "I am going to throw the switch! The death-ray will pass through her body and kill her! And then... then... everybody in America will die!"
The Sword had heard enough. The situation had reached the precipice, and everything that could play out now had taken its course. "I can't wait any longer!" he cried. "Here goes!" And as he expanded his chest and raised his arms, he felt each strand of rope snap in place.
On the tower above, the Black Master watched the scene play out but knew it was already to late to stop him. His hand was on the flip-switch and even now he had begun to pull it down.
The madman had thought he had taken care of every angle, but he had miscalculated.
First, the Sword was even now racing to retrieve his runesword from where it had been carelessly placed nearby, instead of taken away to be disposed of.
Second, the ropes that had tightly bound Martha Roberts now slipped to the ground, and as the villain glanced up to the end of the cannon, he could see that she was no longer there.
Third, the Black Master suddenly felt something grab his sandaled feet, causing him to suddenly stumble back and fall toward the railing, losing his grip on the flip-switch before he could pull it all the way down. Still, it looked like the damage had been done, for gravity had begun to do the rest of the work, activating the cannon that even now began to emit its death-rays.
Finally, the chainmail-clad champion raced toward the tower, taking a split-second to slice the bonds holding Professor Roberts to the stake, then thrust Dragonspirit into the air, letting the enchanted blade carry the Sword himself soaring up into the air and straight toward his target.
"Out of my way!" cried the Sword as his blade, still clutched in his mighty hand, plunged into the machine, where Dragonspirit immediately absorbed all the electrical current flowing through the switch, his Oracle Ring having mentally warned him of this last-minute option.
Momentarily stunned by the setback, the Black Master nevertheless had the presence of mind to flee while he still could. He wasn't quite sure what had happened. Martha Roberts should have died, but she had instead disappeared, while the Sword had escaped and destroyed his death-ray cannon so quickly. He had only one option left, and that was to escape with whatever he could.
Racing back down the tower, the Black Master rushed over to the desk and grabbed all the stolen blueprints, then stopped and rifled through each drawer. A grin formed on his face as he found the loaded revolver where he'd left it for just such an emergency, and placed it in his hand. Looking up, he saw the Sword looking around in vain for the still-missing Martha Roberts at the top of the tower before deciding to complete the destruction of the death-ray with his blade, wielding the runesword to cut through its steel like butter and utterly demolishing the death-ray projector beyond all repair. Meanwhile, a confused Professor Roberts was already attempting to climb the circular steps in a feeble effort to save his daughter himself.
Racing toward the door, the Black Master cried out, "Men, in here -- quick!"
The door opened, and a group of hired thugs raced in to face the Sword, while the villain himself raced for the opposite exit before stopping at the doorway. The Black Master was certain that he had been betrayed by Professor Roberts as surely as his daughter had betrayed him, and needed to be dealt with now that his usefulness was over. Raising his right arm, he began to point the revolver at the old scientist, now halfway up the tower steps. "Goodbye, Professor..."
But before he could fire the gun, he was struck by a blow to the head that suddenly knocked him to the ground, causing the revolver to misfire and clatter to the ground several feet away. "What the--?!" cried the villain in confusion as he pushed himself back up. But as he looked to see what had struck him, he saw only an otherwise-dainty fist a split-second before he was struck again, this time causing all the blueprints clutched in his hand to scatter over the floor.
It was Martha Roberts, but no longer was she wearing the green dress. Instead, she was in a sleeveless, legless blue tunic and had a cape around her neck. The Black Master's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull as he realized that he had severely underestimated this young woman. She had been keeping more secrets from him than he knew.
Doll Girl, for that was what the mystery-woman was called when Martha Roberts wore that costume, had escaped the death-ray by shrinking from her normal five feet height to a mere five inches tall, easily slipping out of the ropes and then tripping up the Black Master in an attempt to keep him from activating the death-ray. In her small size, Doll Girl then hitched a ride in the villain's knife-sheath as he ran back down the steps, only to leap out and grow back to her normal size just in time to save her father from being shot. Now she slapped the Black Master back down to the ground once more, where he seemed to be knocked out. But the fight wasn't over yet, as a horde of henchmen had decided she was the easier target and raced toward her. Leaping out of the way, she raced for the fallen revolver and managed to grab it before the men could reach her. "No, you don't!" she yelled in her fiercest cry as she cocked the hammer and pointed the barrel of the revolver toward the goons. As the men stopped at her command, Martha smiled triumphantly and thought, Thank you Darrel Dane for teaching me how to use one of these things!
And then, with a death-defying leap from the top of the tower to the ground, the Sword entered the fray and began to fight off the remaining henchmen. The Black Master, using that moment to take to his feet -- for he had only pretended to be knocked out earlier -- now bolted for the exit. "I think I'll get out of here... just in case," he muttered to himself as he made his escape.
Spotting the villain's exit, the Sword swatted down as many able-bodied henchmen as he could, then said to Doll Girl, "Hold these men here, 'Cape Woman,' and have your father phone for the G-men. I'm going after the Black Master!"
"It's Doll Girl, actually, and that sounds good to me!" replied the grinning mystery-woman. A few of the henchmen began to move toward her again. "And if any of these goons wants to try my patience, I'm more than willing to show them I mean business!"
Outside the monastery, the Sword scanned the moonlit mountainside for any movement and soon spotted the Black Master escaping down a path along a cliff. "Ahhh... there he goes," the mystery-man said with a laugh. The villain had already been defeated by his own folly, but didn't know it yet. The Sword didn't need his Oracle Ring to tell him that much.
Several minutes later, the Sword had overtaken the Black Master as the chase took them to the edge of a great cliff. "At last, I've got you now," said the hero.
"I'm not through yet!" growled the Black Master, and knelt down to pick up the largest rock he could carry. With great effort, he hurled it at the Sword's head, where it struck hard, but the runesword's protective aura kept him from harm. "How do you like that?"
The force of the swing, however, had unbalanced the Black Master, who had already grown suddenly dizzy. Swaying in place, he suddenly lurched back and fell. The Sword rushed forward in a futile attempt to grab his enemy by his cloak, but he only ended up grasping empty air. The villain's scream could be heard all the way down, but the ground was too far for the Sword to see him land.
"Some might say that's a fitting end for his kind," the Sword remarked, a note of sadness in his voice for the senseless loss of life. By the time he was able to hike back toward the monastery, he could see approaching vehicles that his Oracle Ring told him were a few FBI agents and several Gotham City police officers with a paddy-wagon.
"The G-men got here fast, and Doll Girl and her father should be safe now," he said to himself. "I'd rather not have to deal with any of the typical questions about who I am and how I came to stumble upon this espionage plot. As far as I'm concerned, my part in this job is finished." With that, the Sword continued his hike back down to the roadway, where he would continue his travels.
"Leaving so soon, Sir Galahad?"
The Sword turned, and grinned as he saw standing there the mystery-woman variously known as Doll Girl, Martha Roberts, and Naomi Johnson. "I'm still not sure what to call you -- there are too many names to choose from."
"Listen, Sword, if I can call you that," began Doll Girl, "I just wanted to thank you for helping me save my father. I also wanted to apologize for springing that gas-attack on you back at the factory. I hope you understand why I did what I had to do at the time."
"I understand fully," replied the Sword. "Just as I know you made it as easy as possible for me to trail you back here. For a damsel in distress, you held your own pretty well. I had a feeling there was more to you than I could guess at first glance, but I wasn't sure quite what that was until now."
"Well, now you know," she said with a smile. "So what are your plans now? I know you won't be working at Mains Aircraft any longer, so what's next for the Sword... and for Mark Lake?"
"Ah, I should have known you'd figure out my, uh, 'secret identity,' as they call it here," the Sword said sheepishly. "To be honest, I have no idea. I suppose I'll keep searching for a way to return to my adoptive homeworld. Until then, I'll continue battling evil and protecting the weak as best I can. Would you care to join me? We made a pretty good team back there, by the end at least."
"Oh, I'm sorry," said Doll Girl, blushing in embarrassment. "I would love to do so, but I'm already spoken for."
"I should've known," replied the Sword. "The good ones always are. So where is your other half, your... Doll Boy?"
"Doll Man, and to tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure where he is right now," she said, looking wistfully into the distance. "I'm afraid he's in a similar jam as you, and has completely vanished off the face of the Earth to God knows where. (*) I have faith that he'll return, and soon, but until that day comes I've been doing my best to fill his shoes." (*)
[(*) Editor's note: See "Crisis on Earth-X: The Prequel," All-Star Squadron #32 (April, 1984) and All-Star Squadron: Times Past, 1942: Gender Gasp.]
"Well, I hope you find your man again soon, Martha," said the Sword, and with a wave of his hand he turned and began walking down the road, his armor transforming back into civilian clothing in a shimmer of light, his enchanted runesword becoming invisible to the mortal eye.
"I hope you find what you're looking for as well, Mark," replied Doll Girl, before she turned and headed back for the monastery to change back into her civilian clothing and take her father back home to rest.
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