Countdown. Part 5

He came forward to greet her. "It's complicated, Mary. After Shazam died, the world of magic was thrown into flux. All the power he controlled, all the dark forces he held at bay, ran amok. The old rules were rewritten. Malevolent ent.i.ties, long barred from the mortal plane, began to find their way back into the world."

"Like Pharyngula?" She glanced back at the Seven Deadly Sins, half expecting to see the baby-s.n.a.t.c.hing demon petrified alongside them. "What happened to him anyway?"

"You needn't worry about him any longer," Captain Marvel a.s.sured her. "He's been banished back to the netherworld."

And good riddance, Mary thought. She tried to make sense of what she had just heard. "Does all this have something to do with why I lost my powers?"

Her brother nodded. "In order to heal itself, the power of Shazam drew upon the Marvels, taking back the gifts it had bestowed on us before. You and Freddy both lost your powers, while as for me . . . Well, the power needed a new vessel here at the Rock of Eternity. Someone had to fill the void left by the wizard's absence."

"You?" Mary guessed.

"Me." He smiled sadly, and for a moment, Mary thought she spied a trace of the boyish hero she remembered. "Unlike before, when I would wield the power of the G.o.ds, now I am the keeper of that power."

Just like the wizard used to be, Mary realized. "But you're still Billy in there, right?" She contemplated his snowy locks and grave demeanor. "You seem . . . different, like you've changed somehow. What's this power done to you?"

"I grew up," he said.

Something about that simple declaration struck her as immeasurably sad. "And Freddy?" she asked.

"The power still needs a champion on Earth," Marvel explained. "Freddy is on a quest to prove himself worthy of that mantle. If he pa.s.ses his trials, if he survives, he will become the World's Mightiest Mortal." He looked somberly into Mary's eyes. "It may be some time before you see him again, if ever."

Mary was shocked by her brother's ominous prediction. How can he say that so calmly? she thought in dismay. The Marvel Family always sticks together!

Or we used to.

"What about me?" she asked, feeling a lump in her throat. "Where do I fit into all these changes?"

"That's why I brought you here." He sat down upon the marble throne. "I'm afraid we have a problem. A big one."

Mary tensed. She didn't like the sound of this. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I watched your battle against Pharyngula," he informed her solemnly. "Frankly, it left me concerned."

"Why? I was just doing what I used to do. I was fighting evil." And doing a pretty kick-a.s.s job of it, she recalled with pride. What's Billy's problem?

"It's the way you went about it." He shook his head in disapproval. "I've never seen you so brutal, so savage. Even after Pharyngula had no more fight left in him, you didn't let up. You looked like you were on the verge of killing him."

So? she thought indignantly. He was a flesh-eating demon, wasn't he?

"Look at you, Mary," Captain Marvel said severely. "Even your uniform is darker than before." He eyed her new wardrobe with obvious concern. "What's happened to you?"

I could ask you the same thing, she thought. In fact, I did.

Still, she figured he deserved an explanation. "The power I have now came from Black Adam." She wondered briefly how Adam had managed to retain his powers after she and Freddy had lost theirs. Perhaps it was because he derived his strength from an entirely different pantheon of G.o.ds? "He surrendered it to me willingly."

"You what?" Captain Marvel lurched to his feet, clearly appalled by her revelation. Apparently his magic mirrors had missed that particular development. "Are you out of your mind? You have no idea what that tainted power could do to you!"

Mary bristled at his tone. This was not the joyful family reunion she had been praying for. She hadn't spent so much time searching for Billy just to be lectured to. "What was I supposed to do?" she shot back. "I woke up from a coma, I had no powers, and I was totally alone." An anger she had never dared acknowledge came pouring out of her. It was like it had been simmering inside her all this time, just waiting to erupt. An aggrieved inner voice egged her on. "I couldn't find Freddy; I couldn't find you. . . . What else was I to do?"

"Start a brand-new life?" her brother suggested gently. Overcoming his initial shock and outrage, he adopted a milder tone. He stepped forward and laid a comforting hand upon her shoulder. His icy blue eyes regarded her with compa.s.sion . . . or was it just pity? "Mary, did you ever think that maybe it was destiny that you lost your powers? That you weren't meant to have them forever?"

Mary couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You don't know that," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely, getting more worked up by the moment. Her face flushed with emotion. "Did you ever think that perhaps my getting Black Adam's power was precisely what was supposed to happen?" Raising her voice, she slapped his hand away from her shoulder. He staggered backward, blindsided by the rebuff. "You don't know what it was like for me before, after you abandoned me in that miserable hospital." Painful memories stoked the seething resentment growing inside her. "I have power again, Billy. And I'm going to use it for good, just like before!"

She clenched her fists. First Madame Xanadu, she thought furiously. Now my own brother! They seemed determined to keep her weak and helpless, like she was still just a child who couldn't be trusted to fight evil on her own. Well, I'll show them.

She launched herself toward the ceiling. Shattered stalact.i.tes rained down onto the throne room as she smashed through solid rock like a human missile. Falling rubble knocked over the flaming brazier, spilling burning coals onto the floor. The shock wave generated by her blastoff cracked the magic mirrors, and the Seven Deadly Sins grinned evilly. Pride and Wrath looked particularly pleased. "And if you can't approve of that, then I'll pursue my destiny alone!"

"Mary! Wait!" her brother called, but Mary wasn't listening anymore. She was her own woman now, not just Captain Marvel's perky teenage sister. With the awesome powers at her disposal, she could easily find her own way back to the mortal plane. Her fists drilled a brand-new tunnel through the Rock of Eternity until she burst out into the timeless ether outside, leaving behind a gaping cavity in the floating stone spire. Spectral shapes and apparitions drifted like cloud formations through an empty gray void. Her brother's voice receded into the distance until it vanished altogether. "Maryyyyyyyy . . ."

She was alone again, but that didn't seem quite so bad anymore.

Look out, world. Here I come!

SAN FRANCISCO.

t.i.tans Tower occupied an island in the harbor, not far from the Golden Gate Bridge. Jimmy could see the famous bridge from the top floor of the gleaming, T-shaped high-rise that served as the headquarters for the youthful champions known as the Teen t.i.tans. One-way bulletproof windows offered a spectacular view of the misty bay below.

"Is this your idea of a joke, Olsen?" Robin asked. Batman's sidekick eyed "Mr. Action" dubiously. An ebony cloak was draped over Robin's dark red uniform. A few years younger than Jimmy, the slim, athletic teenager already had an impressive reputation as a crime fighter. His black domino mask failed to conceal his skepticism.

"Um, no?" Jimmy replied, slightly taken aback by the Boy Wonder's reaction. He had caught a red-eye flight from Metropolis just to make this appointment with Robin, who currently served as the leader of the t.i.tans. To Jimmy's disappointment, none of the other t.i.tans seemed to be around. Guess they had other plans for the weekend.

Robin still seemed unconvinced. He glanced around the high-tech conference room. A chrome silver round table held seats for the team's shifting membership, including a reinforced steel chair for Cyborg. A flat-screen monitor covered the far wall. "Seriously, is Lois Lane hiding with a video camera somewhere?"

"Listen to me," Jimmy insisted. "I'm not here for the Planet. I want to join the Teen t.i.tans."

He had given the matter plenty of thought. As promising as his solo career as a super hero looked to be, he could only imagine the awesomeness he'd bring to a group dynamic. The only question had been figuring out what team would be right for him. The Outsiders were too angsty, the Doom Patrol was too weird, and as for the Justice League . . . Well, Jimmy was humble enough to realize that he probably needed to start out in the minors before working his way up to the majors. The Teen t.i.tans, which had started out as a team composed entirely of the Justice League's youthful sidekicks, had struck him as the perfect place for Mr. Action.

Robin, on the other hand, seemed to have his doubts. "Jimmy, no offense, but-"

"I know," Jimmy interrupted him. "I don't blame you. I wouldn't believe me either. But give me a chance and I'll show you what I can do." He put up his dukes. "I'm not just 'Jimmy Olsen, cub reporter' anymore. I'm Mr. Action."

"Mr. Action?" Robin echoed. "Wow. I guess all the good names really are taken."

At least I'm not named after a bird, Jimmy thought. "Attack me," he challenged Robin. "Don't be afraid. I want you to attack me so I can show you my powers."

Besides, that's the only way they work.

But instead of testing him, Robin just sighed. "Okay, let's talk about what's going on here, Jimmy."

"I need you to take me seriously," Jimmy complained. What was Robin's problem anyway? I bet he never treats Beast Boy like this!

"I know you're tight with Superman," Robin said patiently. "Sometimes, when we have a close relationship with, say, a father figure who also happens to be famous . . ."

Jimmy saw where he was going with this. "This isn't about Superman!" Or Batman, for that matter. "I have powers. I don't know why or how, but I have them and I want to use them to help people!"

His sincerity seemed to convince Robin. "All right," the costumed youth conceded reluctantly. "I'll . . . attack you."

"Great!" Jimmy enthused. He adopted a martial arts pose he'd seen in a movie once. "Let's do thi-"

Robin's heel shot past his defenses, nailing him in the chin. The powerful kick knocked Jimmy backward onto his b.u.t.t. The hard tile floor made Jimmy wish that they had sparred on a mat instead. I didn't even see that coming!

"I'm sorry!" Robin said, sounding even more mortified than Jimmy. "I thought you'd duck!"

Jimmy ma.s.saged his aching chin. "I don't understand. I should've stretched or something. . . ."

"I didn't hit you that hard," Robin said, not quite getting it. He reached down and helped Jimmy to his feet. "Are you okay? Do you need to visit the infirmary?"

Jimmy tried to make sense of what had just occurred. "Wait . . . this happened before in Metropolis. These guys in Suicide Slum attacked me, but it wasn't until my life was in danger . . ." A sudden realization dawned in his eyes. "Wait a minute," he accused Robin. "You held back."

"Of course I did," Robin admitted. "You think I want Superman p.i.s.sed off at me when I send his pal back to Metropolis in a neck brace?"

Jimmy realized that he was fighting a losing battle. "There's no chance I can get you to attack me for real, is there?"

Robin shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jimmy. If it makes you feel any better, we're not really looking for any more t.i.tans right now. We're cramped enough as it is."

Jimmy wondered if that was true, or if Robin was just being polite.

"Let's not have an American Idol moment," the Boy Wonder said sympathetically. "You're a photographer, and a d.a.m.n good one. Don't discount the impact you make on people's lives." He shook Jimmy's hand. "Stick with what you're good at."

Jimmy appreciated Robin's attempts to soften the blow, but he wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. "No, Robin. All I want to do is help people."

Even if he wasn't cut out to be a super hero, he knew he'd been given these powers for a reason. One way or another, he was going to find out what they were for . . . or die trying.

30 AND COUNTING.

GOTHAM CITY.

An earsplitting explosion greeted Mary Marvel's return to the mortal plane. Descending from the night sky, she saw flames and smoke erupting from the uptown branch of the Gotham National Bank. The blistering heat from the fire could be felt even high above the city. Thick black smoke filled her nostrils. A glance at a clock tower informed her that it was nearly three in the morning. Thank goodness, she thought. At this hour, it was unlikely that anyone had been inside the bank when it blew up. Probably no need to search for casualties.

Sirens heralded the approach of police cars and fire trucks. a.s.suming that the authorities could cope with the blaze on their own, Mary scanned the scene from the air, looking for some clue as to the origin of the explosion. Foul play seemed like a safe bet; banks seldom exploded on their own, especially in Gotham City.

She wasn't the only one taking in the show. Her eyes lit up as she spied a lanky figure watching the fireworks from the rooftop of a five-story building across the street from the burning bank. Embossed purple question marks, sewn into the fabric of a dapper green suit, tie, and bowler hat, immediately identified the onlooker as Batman's longtime nemesis Edward Nigma, aka the Riddler. He lowered a pair of high-powered binoculars. A purple domino mask failed to conceal his avid interest in the spectacular conflagration. Intent upon the fire, he appeared unaware of the black-clad super heroine spying on him from above.

"Well, well!" She chuckled to get his attention. "What have we here?" After her infuriating reunion with Billy at the Rock of Eternity, she welcomed the opportunity to take out her frustration on a deserving target. "Explosions, alarms, and one big-name Gotham bad guy just begging for an a.s.s-kicking!"

To her slight disappointment, the Riddler appeared unruffled by her arrival. "I would agree with your a.s.sessment, young lady," he said glibly, while brazenly attempting to look up her skirt, "although it appears I should make you aware of certain facts before you-hey!"

Swooping down from the sky, she nabbed him in midsentence. His bowler hat went flying, exposing receding brown hair, as she grabbed on to his collar and plucked him off the rooftop. Startled, he dropped his binoculars, which tumbled downward while she carried him high up into the air, hundreds of feet above his former perch. The lost spy-gla.s.ses crashed loudly onto the roof below.

"Before you jump to conclusions and turn me into street pizza, my dear," he said calmly, despite the fact that he was currently dangling from a great height, "although I sincerely hope that such a virtuous Girl Scout as yourself would never do such a thing, I must inform you that, as a duly licensed private investigator, I don't commit crimes any longer. I solve them."

"What are you saying?" Mary asked, irked by his persistently chipper att.i.tude. "That you've reformed?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow. That's what Black Adam said too. Before he pounded me into a coma.

The Riddler stuck to his story. "Ask Batman if you don't believe me."

"I don't," she said confidently. "I saw you. You were at the crime scene before the police." She gave him a good shaking. "Riddle your way out of that one!"

"It's no mystery," he insisted. "Like you, I heard the explosion and came to investigate." Twisting in her grasp, he pointed down at the sidewalk far below. "Look! See that muddy trail leading away from the bank? It will most a.s.suredly lead us to whoever's really behind this outrage."

Mary descended to the rooftop to get a closer look. To her annoyance, she saw that a trail of thick brown glop did indeed stretch from the rear of the bank to the mouth of a secluded alley a few blocks away. Given that there were no parks or gardens nearby, the large quant.i.ty of mud looked distinctly out of place. Maybe the Riddler was actually onto something.

Shrugging free of her grip, he dropped back onto his feet. "I was just about to follow it before your timely arrival," he continued, retrieving his hat from where it had fallen before. In his emerald outfit, he looked like a tall, skinny leprechaun. "What do you say, Mary Marvel? Care to play girl detective?"

Mary scowled. She had been looking forward to teaching this irritating clown a lesson. But what if he was telling the truth, and the real culprit was getting away as they spoke? "Okay," she said reluctantly, her hands upon her hips. "You've bought yourself five more unbruised minutes, but don't expect me to trust you, Riddler." Taking hold of his shoulder, she dived off the roof and zoomed toward the alley in question. His terrified yelp gave her a bit of satisfaction before they touched down onto the grimy floor of the alley. "Once a criminal, always a criminal."

He recovered his composure far too quickly for her liking. "You don't believe people can change, little miss Mary?" He scoped her out by the glow of the streetlights. "Then answer me this: What used to be bright and sunny, but is now black all over?"

She knew he was alluding to her recent makeover. "Point taken," she conceded. "But consider yourself warned. I might not be such a Girl Scout anymore."

"I'll forgo asking you for cookies, then," he quipped. "But about your new look, Mary, I have to say I'm not really a big fan." He looked down his nose at her sleek black dress and boots. "A little too Dark Knight for my tastes."

His c.o.c.ky demeanor still nettled Mary, but she tried not to take it personally. Years of dealing with Batman had probably rendered the Riddler immune to intimidation; he couldn't have lasted long in Gotham otherwise. "Hey, there's something I don't need," she shot back. "Fashion tips from a goofball in a green derby."

"No need to get defensive," Nigma chided her. Bowing at the waist, he stepped aside to let Mary lead the way into the murky alley. "Ladies first."

Mary suspected that the Riddler's chivalrous gesture had less to with courtesy than with his own cowardly sense of self-preservation. Sure, she thought, hide behind the bulletproof girl.

With the police and firefighters still preoccupied with containing the fire, they had the telltale smears of mud all to themselves. As she marched deeper into the alley, leaving the streetlights behind, she wondered why someone would blow up a bank on purpose. To make a political statement, or just to destroy all evidence of a bank heist? And what was the deal with all this mud anyway? There weren't any mucky footsteps on the ground, only scattered clumps of slick brown goo.

"Intriguing," the Riddler observed, tagging along behind her. "Most intriguing."

Mary had no idea what he was finding so fascinating. Looking around, she didn't see any obvious clues, just a dirty alley full of rusty trash cans, empty liquor bottles, and a soggy cardboard box that was probably some wino's home address. Cigarette b.u.t.ts, fast-food wrappers, and beer cans littered the uneven pavement. Obscene graffiti and gang signs were spray-painted onto sooty brick walls. Rickety fire escapes climbed toward the rooftops, but n.o.body seemed to be using them to make a getaway. A stray cat hissed at Mary from the shadows. The less said about the smell, the better.

A glimpse of the Bat-Signal, shining brightly through the smoke-filled sky, prompted her to wonder why Batman was nowhere to be seen. Probably dealing with some bigger emergency, she guessed. Maybe with the Justice League. For all she knew, Gotham's premier vigilante was helping the League fend off an alien invasion at the moment. I suppose not even Batman can be everywhere at once.

Disappointingly, the trail led to a literal dead end. A high concrete wall, topped by concertina wire, blocked their path. A sizable heap of mud, large enough to fill a wheelbarrow or two, was deposited at the base of the wall. Bats Suck! was scrawled on the dirty concrete. Jokers Rule! Mary could easily fly over or smash through the barrier, of course, but that wasn't the point. Their quarry had given them the slip.

"End of the line," the Riddler remarked, stating the obvious. He slipped past Mary to examine the mound of mud. Extracting a customized green and purple pencil from his pocket, he poked the gunk experimentally. "Although, you know, I'm beginning to suspect that this isn't actually mud at all."

Mary eyed him suspiciously. Was he just stringing her along for some reason? "Okay, Sherlock, what is it?"

Before he could answer, the pencil was sucked from his grasp. He jumped back from the quivering sludge as it suddenly came to life before their eyes. The amorphous muck rose up from the pavement to take on a vaguely humanoid form. Beady red eyes ogled Mary from a crude approximation of a face. A pair of pulsating slits provided a mere suggestion of a nose. The mouth was just an open gash beneath the nostrils. Rows of jagged ceramic shards gnashed together like teeth. Broken pieces of pencil were spat onto the ground. A phlegmy voice answered Mary's question.

"Clay!"

Of course! Mary kicked herself for not figuring it out earlier. The being before her was one of Batman's most freakish foes, a malleable ma.s.s of malevolence that had once been an unscrupulous treasure hunter named Matt Hagen. Now better known as . . .

"Clayface!"

"You bet, honey!" the villain gurgled. Drawing the excess sludge back into his person, he expanded until he towered over both Mary and the Riddler. The self-proclaimed sleuth scurried behind Mary, shamelessly using her as a shield. Clayface oozed forward menacingly. "Too bad you and Nigma couldn't leave well enough alone!"

Clayface surged at them like a tidal wave, engulfing them in a flood of viscous muck, which clung to Mary like a sticky mixture of quicksand and wet cement. The loathsome avalanche tore the Riddler away from her. He flailed wildly, struggling to keep his head above the suffocating clay. "Mary!" he squealed like the rat that he was. "Where are you?"

"Here!" The squishy clay was everywhere, in her hair, on her face, enveloping her entire body. She swallowed a mouthful by mistake, and gagged in disgust. Clayface tasted worse than the mud pies she had crafted as a child. She coughed up the gritty sludge. "I'm here . . . and I'm not happy!"

That was putting it mildly. First dead babies, she thought, now this! The clay hardened around her like concrete, squeezing her tightly. Wet goo seeped into her gloves and boots. It felt cold and damp against her skin. When did bad guys get so gross?

"You should have stayed outta Gotham, babe!" Clayface gloated in her ear. "You ain't dirty enough for this town!"