Part 1

I didn't write ANY of this story. It was written by several of the other authors in the Earth-2 group, part of the 5 Earths Project. It takes place in 1987. You can read the other 1987 stories on our Archive site, though this one has not yet been added to the archive.

Path of the Immortal is a prequel of sorts to my Legion of Justice series. So I'm posting it here so you can read it if you want before reading about the Legion Of Justice.

Authors include:

Path of the Immortal Chapter 1 by starsky_hutch76

When Samaria became the birthplace of civilization, I was its king.

When Nero fiddled as Rome burned, I was there to fan the flames.

When China's emperor built the Great Wall, it was because I had put the fear into his heart.

Many of my enemies have accused me of being a braggart, of making my accomplishments sound greater than they are. Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, I hid them for a very long time; and for good reason. When primitive minds discovered what I was, it often proved dangerous for myself. I have been stabbed, shot, lynched, poisoned, and nearly beheaded. Once I was even kidnapped by pagans who hoped to gain immortality by eating my flesh. I escaped, of course. You don't live as long as I do without developing survival skills.

Probably the most asked question of me is why I continue to fake my own death, abandoning kingdom and empire to start anew elsewhere. The answer is simple. There is only so much people will accept in their limited perspective, even from their king. Eventually it becomes necessary to the interests of my continued well being to move on.

I always left some remnant of my hold, though. Even in my absence a bit of my power base remained. That is, until I made one fateful error.

After the span of my years became too much for me, overwhelming ennui began to take hold. I have known other immortals who have suffered from this. And for us, it can be fatal. Once you cease to care... to feel there is nothing left... it is all over.

I felt what I needed was new territory to conquer. I had learned of a new Earth, one very much like ours but different. So I abandoned my own to venture forth to this new world its inhabitants, in their arrogance, called Earth-One.

Naturally it had its own heroes who interfered with my efforts. But as always I knew that time was on my side.

Then the Crisis came. World after world fell to waves of anti-matter. That something so vast as a universe could be so fragile shook me to my very core. I longed for my own world again, to hold it in my hands once more. I had cast it aside like a child bored with an old toy. What a fool I had been. I hadn't appreciated what I had. I had to have it back. I would have it back.

Interlude 1 by starsky_hutch76

From the desk of Commander Steel:

The latest reference I have found is in Violence by Jacques Ellul (Seabury Press, New York, 1959). He says (pages 18-19) that the Illuminated ones were founded by Joachim of Floris in the 11th century and originally taught a primitive Christian doctrine of poverty and equality, but later under the leadership of Fra Dolcino in the 15th century became violent and plundered the rich and announced the imminent reign of the Spirit. "In 1507," he concludes, "they were vanquished by the forces of order" -- that is, an army commanded by the Bishop of Vercueil. He makes no mention of any Illuminati movements in earlier centuries or in more recent times. This is only the latest reference I've found of the Illuminati supposedly being squashed, only to turn up again.

-- H.H.

Chapter 2 by starsky_hutch76

Hank Heywood rounded the corner as he went into his tenth lap around the second floor walkway above the center courtyard of Belle Reve Prison. He was in phenomenal shape for a man his age. In fact, he had the strength and stamina of a man half his age. A good part of that he owed to the process which had changed him into Commander Steel over forty years ago; that, and making sure he stayed in tip top physical condition.

His attention was drawn from his exercise to the courtyard as the two large doors opened and a prisoner transport vehicle entered. The vehicle stopped, and several armed guards walked to the back of it as the two armed security officers stepped out of the cab to meet them. They opened the back doors and signaled with their rifles as they ordered them to walk down the ramp single file.

As he ran Commander Steel watched as the prisoners exited the back. Female prisoners. He wasn't fooled by the fact that they were members of the so-called fairer sex. They were some of the most cold blooded killers found in the country.

One of the women spotted him running around the courtyard in only a pair of jogging pants and commented on it to the woman in front of her. "Hey, look at that. He looks good for an old guy."

"Yeah... he looks like what's-his-name... Clint Eastwood... from the Dirty Harry movies."

"I'd like to get dirty with Harry," another said.

This turned into a rhythmic chant of "I wanna get dirty with Harry, woo-woo..." This made Steel smirk. A lesser man would be tempted to take advantage of such a thing. He was not a lesser man.

He stared down at the crowd of incoming prisoners, casting his gaze on the incoming new faces. He then reached for the communication device clipped to his waistband.

"Carl, this is Commander Steel. I want prisoners Paula Crock, Artemis Crock, Valerie Van Cleef, Pamela Isley, Nan Norton and Sharon Strange restrained and held in Dr. Trogg's laboratory until further notice. They are to be allowed no more interaction with the general populace without my authorization."

"Yes sir," the officer said.

"I want everyone they've been in contact with interrogated as well. Find out anything they may have told them."

"Yes sir."

The prisoners in question had knowledge of the secret identity of the Huntress. Her father, the Batman, had been a respected colleague of his. If they thought they would be able to keep that knowledge, they were fooling themselves. He would take it from them if he had to wipe their minds clean to do it.

***

Forty minutes later, Commander Steel stood freshly showered and dressed in one of his standard black suits in the laboratory of Dr. Trogg, who was staring at the drugged prisoners, each of whom had a device placed on their head that resembled something not unlike a bicycle helmet with steel cables extruding from the top.

"So you can remove the information?" Steel said.

"Of course I can," Dr. Trogg said. "A simple little thing like that is old hat in the field of mad science." He chuckled to himself at his own joke.

"Good," Steel said.

"While I'm at it, I'm sure I'll stumble across all sorts of interesting information you'll want in their files."

"Of course."

Dr. Trogg saw that Steel was still standing there, staring at him coldly rather than making his usual abrupt departure. His wings fluttered nervously. "Is there something else I can help you with?"

"You and I have a problem."

"Whatever could it be?"

"Baby Boom."

"Ah, yes. She is quickly turning into one of my many success stories," Dr. Trogg said proudly.

"Your 'success' is the problem. You were only supposed to remove the blocks on her aging. She wasn't suppose to age any faster than you or I."

"But you and I are barely aging at all," Dr. Trogg said wryly. "And therein laid the problem."

"Don't play dumb with me, Trogg," Steel snapped. "She is now biologically twice the age she was when she came in here!"

"I don't like to do things halfway, Commander," Dr. Trogg said indignantly. "I found a breakthrough to give her a little push on her way, and I took it. I thought the objective was to help her grow up."

"The objective was to give her the potential to grow up, which is what we have done," Steel growled. "Offering her that gave her and her Helix family another incentive to cooperate. I doubt that it will still be there once she has what she wants."

"You don't think the explosive bracelets are enough?" Dr. Trogg asked.

"To someone who can create and master controlled explosions how big a threat do you really think they are?" Steel said.

"Oh," Dr. Trogg said, grimacing.

"See that you don't give her any more of your little pushes." With that, Commander Steel turned on his heels and marched out of the room.

Chapter 3 by starsky_hutch76

Agent Liberty walked into the room where the dark haired girl sat, lost in thought with a stern look on her face.

"Helena Bertinelli?" he asked.

"You know good and well who I am," she said, turning towards him. "Why are you asking my name when you already know who I am?"

Wonderful. Great attitude. This will be pleasant, he thought, gritting his teeth. "I'm Arn Munro, also known as Agent Liberty. I'm team leader of the Suicide Squad. I assume you've already been briefed on what it is we do here?" He pulled up a wooden chair identical to the one she sat in and took a seat in front of her.

"Yes," she said. "And if I come along with you on a few missions the authorities will be willing to 'lose' my record."

Agent Liberty looked through her file and whistled. "You're lucky your grandfather is who he is. This is quite a nice little rap sheet you've built up for yourself. Hard to get out from under something like this, even if the men you killed were the scum of the earth."

"I don't want to hear about my grandfather."

"I've heard about your animosity towards him," Agent Liberty sighed. "I hope that's something that you can get over in time. Ted Grant is one of the best."

"If he's so good, then why couldn't he ever find my father or me?"

"I'm sure that's something which will haunt him for the rest of his days," Agent Liberty said. "I know it would've haunted me if I had ever had children."

"Then you probably wouldn't have stopped looking until you found them, would you? Why did he?" she said angrily.

"I can't speak for the man," he said. "I can only tell you what I would do in his position. But I will say that the Ted Grant I know is no quitter. If he gave up the search he had good reason."

From the expression on her face Munro could tell she looked unconvinced. He let out a sigh and said, "Anyway, now that we've shared this special moment, let me introduce you to the others." They both stood, and he led her from the room.

Interlude 2 by starsky_hutch76

From the Desk of Commander Steel:

In A History of Secret Societies, (Citadel Press, 1941) Akron Daraul also traces the Illuminati back to the 11th century but not to Joachim Floris. He sees it as the origin of the Ishmaelian sect, also known as the Order of Assassins. They later adopted a less violent philosophy. However, in the 16th century in Afghanistan the Illuminated ones picked up the original tactics of the Order of Assassins. They were wiped out by an alliance of the Mongols and Persians (pages 220-223). But the beginning of the seventeenth century saw the foundation of the Illuminated ones of Spain -- the Allumbrados, condemned by an edict of the Grand Inquisition in 1623. In 1654, the 'illuminated' Guerinets came into public notice in France.

And finally, the Bavarian Illuminati was founded on May Day, 1776, in Ingolstadt, Bavaria, by Adam Weishaupt, a former Jesuit. Documents still extant show several points of resemblance between the German and Central Asian Illuminatists, points that are hard to account for on the grounds of pure coincidence. (page 255). Weishaupt's Illuminati was suppressed by the Bavarian government in 1785; Daraul also mentions the Illuminati of Paris in the 1880's, but suggests it was simply a passing fad. He does not accept the suggestion that the Illuminati still exists today.

-- H.H.

Chapter 4 by starsky_hutch76

For the first time since the miracle that had made him Odysseus happened Steve Trevor felt weary and old. He had dreaded answering the phone. He knew it was the call he had been expecting, summoning him back into the field. He'd never forgotten the look on his pregnant wife's face. It was one he had worn many times himself over the years when he knew she was running off into danger.

He knocked on the door and waited patiently as several dead bolts clicked as the person on the other side turned them. The door opened, and Steve Trevor gasped in shock. "Amanda! You're so thin!"

True enough, Amanda was only half the woman she had been before. She was far slimmer and more athletic than the husky figure she had been. "I've had a lot more time on my hands," she said. "So I've been working out." She turned around and walked back into her apartment. Steve Trevor followed.

He looked around at her small apartment. There were several boxes in the half stages of packing scattered about the place.

"What do you want, Trevor?" Amanda Waller said.

"I want you to reconsider," he said.

"Not a chance," she replied, returning to her packing. She picked up a vase and began wrapping it in newspaper.

"We need you, Amanda."

"Tell Steel. He doesn't seem to think so."

"It's because of him that we need you there. Someone has to look after these kids."

"These 'kids' are all adults. They knew what they were getting into. I'm sure they look like kids to you since you're so damn old. Hell, you've lived two lifetimes."

"Amanda..."

"If you want to hang around playing nurse maid, that's your business. I've got better ways to spend my time. As long as Steel can't let go of the reins, there's no place for me there. I didn't get where I am by sitting on my ass, and I'm not about to start now." She then saw the hurt in his face and said, "You're a good man, Steve. It makes me wonder what the hell you're still doing there."

"Isn't there any way I can change your mind?" he pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Steve, but not everyone gets a second go around like you did. The rest of us have to get it right the first time."

As he left her apartment building Steve Trevor felt even wearier than he had before his arrival. Whatever he faced in his future with the Suicide Squad, he knew he'd be facing it alone.

Interlude 3 by starsky_hutch76

From the Desk of Commander Steel:

The Encyclopedia has little to say on the subject of the Illuminati... Illuminati, a short lived movement of republican free thought founded on May Day 1776 by Adam Weishaupt, professor of canon law at Ingolstadt and a former Jesuit... From 1778 onward they began to make contact with various Masonic lodges where, under the impulse of A Knigge (q.v), one of their chief converts, they often managed to gain a commanding position.

The scheme itself had attractions for literary men like Goethe and Herder, and even for the reigning Dukes of Gotha and Weimar.

The movement suffered from internal dissension and was ultimately banned by an edict of the Bavarian government in 1785.

-- H.H.

Chapter 5 by starsky_hutch76

All eyes were on Baby Boom as she walked into the rec room. She looked different every time anyone saw her, so every time they saw her it was somewhat unnerving.

"Hi everybody!" she said with a happy wave as she walked across the room towards the pinball machine. She began stacking milk cartons in front of it to reach the playing surface out of habit and then stepped up. She let out a happy laugh as she realized that she needed to take a couple of them away, needing only one to play the game. It wouldn't be long till she didn't need to do it at all.

"Man, I just can't get over the change," Arak whispered to Tao Jones.

"I know," she said. "I got so used to her looking like a baby all these years. I may never get used to this."

Baby Boom did indeed look very different from the appearance she had held upon first arriving at Belle Reve. The prison doctors who had examined her had calculated her biological age at somewhere between four and five, though small even for that age.

Now she appeared to be somewhat close to ten years of age, though she was trying to look even older by wearing punkish clothes and too much make-up. She had abandoned the Mohawk she had worn in her "Baby Boom" phase as her hair began to grow quickly. And she began to take pride in her appearance. She was finally getting some idea of the pretty woman she would one day be.

"You look very... nice today," Vixen said to her as she started to play the game.

"Thanks," Baby Boom said, enthusiastically playing the game.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about your make-up, though."

"Hey, I'm not too young for make-up!" Baby Boom said defensively. She gestured to the rest of Helix and Gypsy. "I'm as old as anyone in here!"

"Oh, I know," Vixen said, holding up her hands appeasingly. "In fact, you're looking more and more like a young lady all the time." This seemed to settle Baby Boom down a little. "That's why you need to make sure the make-up you wear conveys the right image."

"The right... image?" Baby Boom said sounding confused and slightly concerned.

"You know, before I got into adventuring I was a fashion model," the African heroine said. "Perhaps I could help you with your make-up."

"Really?" Baby Boom said, her eyes brightening. "That would be great!"

Suddenly Agent Liberty entered with a sullen, dark haired girl. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet the latest member of our team. She goes by the code-name Nemesis."

"She looks like a barrel of laughs," Tao muttered under her breath to Arak and Penny Dreadful.

"Shhh..." Penny cautioned.

Nemesis shot Tao a look that made her blood run cold. Could she possibly have heard her?

Interlude 4 by starsky_hutch76

From the Desk of Commander Steel:

No historian knows exactly what happened to Adam Weishaupt after he was exiled from Bavaria in 1785. The possibility that he killed George Washington and took his place to serve as our first president for two terms has been suggested. Except for a small patch of blue in the corner, the two main colors of the U.S. flag are red and white -- the colors of the Ishmaelian sect of the Illuminati. The Illuminati pyramid rests upon the back of our dollar. Washington formed the Federalist party. The other major party in those days, the "Democratic Republicans," was formed by Thomas Jefferson, and there are grounds for accepting the testimony of Reverend Jebediah Morse of Charleston who accused Jefferson of being an Illuminati agent. And of course the Democratic Republican Party later split into the two main political parties which are extant in our country today. Thus even at the dawn of our government both parties were Illuminati fronts.

-- H.H.

Chapter 6 by starsky_hutch76

"So what the hell do you want, Steel?" John Law coughed. The sick, elderly man was a shriveled shade of his glory days as the Tarantula.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?" Commander Steel said.

"The Hank Heywood I knew was a completely different man," John Law said. "I don't know who you are."

Steel laughed. "I'm still the same man. My methods are just a little more effective these days."

"Things like kidnapping a former comrade from his hospital bed in the middle of the night?" Law said accusingly.

"You'll be glad I did," Steel said. "If you follow along with me you'll be through with hospitals forever."

"I hope you mean in the good sense," Law said suspiciously.

"Of course I do," Steel said. "I'm still one of the good guys, John. I'm a soldier in service to the government of the United States of America. Same as always."

"If I were to call the Pentagon in the capacity of a journalist and ask them about you, would they admit to any knowledge of your activities here?"

"I think you already know the answer to that question," Steel said. "Everything we do here is on a need to know basis. We operate on the highest level of security clearance."

"So what is it you're offering?" Law said.

"I want to help you with your health problems."

"No health problems," Law said. "It's called old age. It happens. I've made my peace with the reaper."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Commander Steel said. "You're younger than I am."

Law stared at Steel, still strong and hardy, and said, "If you're offering me some of what you've got, I don't think I can survive being filleted so some scientists can wrap my skeleton in steel and shove a bunch of gizmos in me."

"That's not what I was offering," Steel said. "For you I have a far more fitting process in mind."

Dr. Trogg entered the room, the nails of his wolf-like legs clicking on the linoleum of the floor. John Law shot up out of his chair, long unaccustomed to the unusual. "What the hell?"

"This is Dr. Trogg," Commander Steel said. "Being the authority on the costumed set, I was sure you would have heard of him."

"Ah, yes," Law said, returning to his chair, "Hourman's old foe."

"Those days are behind him," Commander Steel said. "He's working for us now; he's paid his debt to society."

"It looks like he's paid for it in more ways than one," Law said.

"If you're referring to my appearance, I'll have you know I choose to stay like this," Dr. Trogg said indignantly. "It has all sorts of advantages. Not the least of which is my vitality. I was well into my seventies when I last encountered that costumed jackanape known as Hourman. Add to that the time I was forced to spend in this fine correctional institution and I am well past a hundred and still holding strong."

"If you had something like this in mind for me..."

"Don't be absurd," Dr. Trogg said. "I've long since perfected my methods. This particular one suits me just fine, however."

"It does?" John Law said with disbelief.

"The only disadvantages were the diminutive arms the gambezi process had left me with. I quickly adjusted that but left the slow aging and heightened senses that aid me in my work, along with this fun little option." He flapped his wings vigorously and rose several feet off the ground.

"So what is it you have in mind for me?"

"Something a little more suited for your chosen nomenclature," Dr. Trogg said, holding up a syringe.

"As long as I don't end up looking like a giant spider-man, I'll be happy," John Law said as Dr. Trogg inserted the needle.

"Funny you should mention that," Dr. Trogg said. "I was inspired by a comic book one of those Helix brats left in here."

"What do you mean by that?" John Law said. Suddenly he let out a scream and dropped to the floor, fire shooting through his veins.

"You'll see..."

John Law writhed in agony as his shriveled muscles began to convulse. "Aggh!" he gasped, his eye bulging from the pain. He raised up on all fours and his back muscles could be seen convulsing in an unnatural spasm through his shirt.

The wrinkled skin on his face, hands, and forearms began to tighten. His thin, white hair began to thicken, and the color began to return. His frail form began to broaden and grow harder. He stood shakily to his feet, looking once more like the John Law of the 1940s. "You... you didn't tell me about the pain..." he said huskily.

"The John Law I knew wasn't afraid of a little pain," Commander Steel said.

"I'm still not. But it would have been nice to know what to expect."

"Then I should probably warn you that you might experience a bit of dizziness for a few seconds," Dr. Trogg warned.

Law suddenly lost his balance and went to grab hold of the aluminum folding chair he had been sitting in prior to his transformation. It crumpled in his hand.

"I should also warn you that you now have the proportional strength and agility of your namesake. So have a care what you take hold of," Dr. Trogg chided. "Aside from that chair the equipment in here is very expensive and hard to replace."

John Law stared at the hand that had crushed the chair and said, "I hope Angela doesn't mind going by the name 'Lady Tarantula' from now on. I have a feeling I might need to hang onto my old title for a little while longer."

"That brings up another good point," Commander Steel said. "How you can reimburse us for this service we've done for you..."

"I won't do anything unethical," Law said.

"Relax," Commander Steel said. "It's not your soul I'm after. Just a little of your time."

Chapter 7 by starsky_hutch76

Steve Trevor had only been back to Belle Reve for a short while before he was summoned into the office of Commander Steel. The first thing he noticed was that Steel's light fixture appeared to be flickering on and off in a weird pattern. "Ignore that," Commander Steel said to Trevor, his face buried in a file. "I'm having a technician drop by later to fix whatever is wrong with it." He gestured to a chair in front of his desk for Trevor to sit down in.

"Welcome back, General Trevor," Commander Steel greeted. "I'm glad you chose to return. Coffee?" he said, pleasantly, gesturing to a cup at the edge of his desk.

"Very nice," Steve Trevor said, sipping his coffee as he eyed the man on the other side of the desk warily; he was suspicious of Commander Steel's unusual congeniality. The commander appeared to be having a cup himself, so he continued to drink it. In the back of his mind he noticed that it had a strange minty smell to it. "All pleasantries aside, though, why did you bring me up here to your office?"

"For a very good reason," Commander Steel replied, the light pulsing in a steady pattern behind him. "It's time for you to see the fnords," he said, taking the coffee cup from Steve Trevor.

"The what?" Trevor said nervously. The word he thought he'd heard made absolutely no sense, yet it filled him with a horrible sense of dread. His mind reeled and wanted to blot the word from his memory. Or better yet to simply black out. He wouldn't let himself.

Then his eyes locked on the newspaper on Commander Steel's desk; it was dated several years back, and that was where he saw the fnords.

The feature story of the newspaper involved another of the endless squabbles between Russia and the U.S. in the UN General Assembly, and after each direct quote from the Russian delegate he read a quite distinct "Fnord!"

The second lead was about a debate in Congress on getting the troops out of Costa Rica; every argument presented by Senator Bacon was followed by another "Fnord!" At the bottom of the page was a Times depth-type study of the growing pollution problem and the increasing use of gas masks among New Yorkers; the most distressing chemical facts were interpolated with more "Fnords."

Suddenly he saw Commander Steel's eyes burning into him as the light behind him continued to pulse rhythmically, and he heard his voice: "Your heart will remain calm. Your adrenaline gland will remain calm. Calm, all-over calm. You will not panic. You will look at the fnord and see it. You will not evade it or black it out. You will stay calm and face it."

Steve Trevor's mind jumped way back to his first-grade teacher writing FNORD on the blackboard, while a wheel with a spiral design turned and turned on his desk... turned and turned... and his voice droned on, "If you don't see the fnord it can't eat you, don't see the fnord, don't see the fnord..."

Trevor looked back at the paper and still saw the fnords. This is one step beyond Pavlov, he realized as he wiped nervous sweat from his brow, or his dog, to be precise.

"The first conditioned reflex is to experience the panic reaction -- technically called the activation syndrome -- whenever encountering the word 'fnord,' " Commander Steel explained as he handed Steve Trevor a glass of water. "The second conditioned reflex is to black out what is happening, including the word itself, and just feel a general low-grade emergency without knowing why. And the third step, of course, is to attribute this anxiety to the news stories, which are bad enough in themselves anyway. Of course, the essence of control is fear. The fnords produced a whole population walking around in chronic low-grade emergency, tormented by ulcers, dizzy spells, nightmares, heart palpitations and all the other symptoms of too much adrenaline."

As his own anxiety left him and he heard Commander Steel's words, Steve Trevor felt a genuine pity for his countrymen. Conditioning such as this would... had... produced a populace of sheep willing to believe anything they're told, walk through pollution and overcrowding without complaining, never protest, never fight back, never show much happiness or curiosity or normal human emotion, live with perpetual tunnel vision, walk past a slum without seeing either the human misery it contains or the potential threat it poses to their security. He had probably been guilty to this himself, despite whatever decorations for valor he might have received in his lifetime. He had lived most of his life as the typical soldier... just following orders. Now he would always wonder if it was his own sense of duty or this.

He suddenly got a hunch and turned quickly to the advertisements. It was as he had expected. No fnords. That was part of the gimmick, too. Only in consumption... endless consumption of specific goods... could people escape the amorphous threat of the invisible fnords.

Steel showed him other newspapers from around the world, and it was the same in every one he looked at. The fnords all stopped appearing on the same month and year as the first one. As if whoever was manipulating the media in such an insidious way had suddenly lost interest.

Steve Trevor wondered what would happen if he pointed out a fnord to somebody who hadn't been deconditioned as Commander Steel had just deconditioned him. What would he or she say? They'd probably read the word before or after it. "No, this word," he'd say. And they would again read an adjacent word. But would their panic level rise as the threat came closer to consciousness? He thought it more likely to end with a psychotic fugue in the subject. The conditioning, after all, went back to grade school. No wonder we all hate those old teachers so much, he pondered. We have a dim, masked memory of what they've done to us.

"Who is responsible for this?" he asked angrily.

"Vandal Savage," Commander Steel answered.

"Savage? The old JSA foe?" Trevor said incredulously. "But he was never that big a heavy hitter."

"Maybe not," Commander Steel said. "But the Illuminati is."

Interlude 5 by starsky_hutch76

From the Desk of Commander Steel:

Despite the fact that his face appears on billions of stamps and dollar bills, and his portrait hangs in every public building in the country, no one is quite sure what George Washington looks like. On a recent special, "Meet George Washington," many portraits were shown, some of which do not even appear to be the same man. Some of the portraits can be found in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and the more- than-passing resemblance to Weishaupt is undeniable. -- H.H.

Chapter 8 by starsky_hutch76

As Steve Trevor stared at the one dollar bill, for the first time he seemed to notice the strange half-smile on the portrait of George Washington. He shook his head and put the dollar bill back in his wallet. He shifted his weight in the passenger seat so he could put it back in his pocket. "I just don't buy it."

"Which part don't you buy?" Arn Munro asked.

"The whole conspiracy thing. The idea that there's a plot dating back centuries to control us all," Steve Trevor said.

"Even after what Commander steel showed you?" Arn Munro asked, watching the road.

"You and I both know how deceptive he can be," Trevor said. "I wouldn't put it past him to be able to convince me I was experiencing suppressed memories."

The car pulled to a stop at a traffic light. "Perhaps what you need is a little more proof," Munro said. "This is a demonstration of one of the more basic principles of the Illuminati. It's known as the Bavarian fire drill. 'Bavarian' for the country where it originated." He put the car in park and said, "Follow me," as he opened the door and got out.

Puzzled, Steve Trevor got out as Arn Munro marched authoritatively to the car behind them and beat on the hood. "Bavarian Fire Drill! Out!" He made vigorous but ambiguous motions with his hands and moved onto the next car back. Trevor saw the first subject look dubiously to his companion and get out, obediently trailing behind Munro's urgent, authoritative, dark-suited figure.

"Bavarian Fire Drill!" Munro was already shouting to the third car back. "Fnord!"

As Trevor moved along, occasionally adding his own deep and authoritative voice to persuade the more dubious drivers, every car gradually emptied and people began forming a neat line heading back towards Lexington Avenue. Munro then ducked between two cars and began jogging towards the front of the line at third avenue again, shouting to everyone, "Complete circle! Fnord! Stay in line!" Obediently, everyone followed in a great circle back to their own cars, re-entering from the side opposite from that which they had left. Munro and Trevor climbed back in Munro's dark sedan, the light changed, and they sped ahead.

"You see?" Munro asked. "Use words and signals they've been conditioned to since childhood with enough authority and never look back to see if they're obeying. They'll follow. That's the cornerstone of the Illuminati. Their motto, in fact. The individual act of obedience is the cornerstone not only of the strength of authoritarian society but also it's weakness."

Steve Trevor looked back at the line of cars belonging to the subjects in this experiment as they moved off in different directions. For one brief instance they had moved as a well synchronized machine. And it had been all too easy to make happen.

Chapter 9 by starsky_hutch76

Commander Steel stepped into the cell of Paula Crock, the former Huntress, now operating under the name Manhunter. "What does your husband think of you using the name of a former lover?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't had a chance to see or even speak to him since taking the name!" Manhunter snapped.

"What a shame when families are torn apart like this," Commander Steel said, folding his arms and smiling wryly at her.

"Oh, I can see you're all broken up about it," she smirked.

"If the idea of a long stay with us is really bothering you, you can do something about it," Commander Steel said.

"You aren't suggesting I escape, are you?" Paula Crock teased with a voice that seemed more like a purr.

"Hardly," Commander Steel said. "And you wouldn't get very far if you did, I assure you. I'm suggesting you earn your freedom."

"Why, Commander. I'm a happily married woman," she replied with mock indignation.

"Very funny," Commander Steel said with a face conveying no emotion at all, let along levity. "By now, I'm sure you've heard some rumors among the populace about what goes on here."

"Yes, I have," she said.

"Well, some of the rumors are true. There are missions for which you can earn your freedom. Would such a program have any interest for you?"

"Risk my life for the authorities?" Manhunter laughed. "Hardly."

"Even if it meant your freedom?"

"What good is freedom if you're dead?" she said. "If I were into self sacrifice, I never would have given up the hero game."

"Even for the sake of your daughter?" Commander Steel said, staring at her coldly.

Manhunter's laughing, disrespectful demeanor immediately changed. "What does my daughter have to do with this?"

"A lot of things can happen while you're in prison. Things that can make your stay a lot longer than your original sentence," Commander Steel said nonchalantly.

"You bastard!" Paula Crock cried.

"Of course, if someone were watching out for her... making sure she stayed out of trouble... that's something she need never worry about." At those words she calmed down. "Do I have your cooperation?" Steel asked.

"Yes," she said with resignation.

"Yes what?" Commander Steel said, folding his arms sternly.

"Yes... sir," Paula growled.

"Good," Steel said. "I'll have someone come by later so you can sign the releases and be briefed. Then you'll be transferred to new quarters. He turned and exited the cell. As the cell door slammed shut with a heavy metallic clank, Paula Crock grabbed the bars and screamed in anger and frustration.

Chapter 10 by Vendikarr_DeWuff

Arn returned to his apartment after dropping General Trevor off at the headquarters. Heywood told him he needed to contact Malone. Arn had to go home for that call; he would not make it from the base. Matches' privacy was important to him.

Munro had a secured phone line installed in his apartment and had Heywood swear it would not be tapped. Heywood gave his word, but Arn still did a sweep with the bug detector he had picked up.

He unlocked his study and entered. He paused a moment and looked at his mementos as he did every time he entered the room. The Sword of Khan, a razor-edged boomerang, and an old pair of rocket boots. Arn smiled, knowing Heywood would have a fit if he had known Arn still possessed these valuable treasures. But these things were not for Heywood. They were to remember comrades-in-arms. A wave of sadness washed across his face as he looked at the gold chain mail costume under a pane a glass. Shaking it off, he then walked over to a display case, and looked at the small wooden match inside.

It amazed Arn that this former gangster had become his closest friend. But after all they had gone through, against enemies foreign and domestic, they had bonded. Matches had walked away from the business after the Mazurinsky incident in the 'sixties, and would only help if Arn really needed him. He had refused to contact Matches more than once. But not this time. Arn believed Heywood was right, and only "old timers" would be of best use here.

Arn picked up the phone, and it rang, two... three times... then...

"Malone, it's me." A pause. "Yeah, that's right. I need you." He knew Matches got a kick out of Arn needing him, and he played up to that.

"Something's come up and only us veterans can do the job. Yes, we're still working out of the prison." Pause. "I know you won't go to the prison. Where are you now?" Another pause. "That's great. I will arrange the meeting in New York, at the DEO offices. You'll like the head of that branch, he's a kindred spirit of yours.

"I didn't hire him, Steel did. Yes, he has a thing with criminals. He loves his control... No, he doesn't control me like that. I'm my own man... Okay, two days, meet me at the DEO offices in New York. Steel should have his team assembled by then." A pause. "Yeah, I miss you too, old man. It'll be good to see you again."

Arn hung up the phone and exited his study, locking it behind him. He then left and returned to let Heywood know that Matches was in.

Path of the Immortal pts 11-24 repost

Chapter 11 by starsky_hutch76

Senator Neptune Perkins sailed through the depths of the ocean in the strange submarine known to the ocean dwelling Atlanteans as a leviathan, designed as much for aesthetics as function. Next to him stood King Arthur the First of Atlantis, formerly known to the world as the first Aquaman. He hoped Commander Steel wasn't sending him on a wild goose chase, but he knew why he had been chosen. Few men could have gotten this far. His job titles, both new and old, were what had gotten him an audience with the king and a trip to this part of old Atlantis.

"How much further, your highness?" he asked the king.

"We'll be coming upon it shortly," King Arthur said. "We'll probably be the first visitors this area has seen in centuries."

"Is that so?" Neptune Perkins said. "So the present-day Atlantis isn't the original?"

"In a manner of speaking," the monarch said. "All societies migrate at some point, moving from one area of prosperity to another. This, at one time, was probably a prosperous area before the continent sank," He looked down at his guide book. "This particular area was once known as R'yleh. Strangely, I haven't heard a lot of Atlanteans talk about it. It appears to have suffered a lot in the cataclysm. Many structures were damaged, which would have forced an eventual migration. "

King Arthur pointed to the large window. "Naturally, that one stood unharmed."

Neptune Perkins let out a gasp as he followed the King's finger to the structure in front of them, looming largely through the window of the Leviathan. It was far bigger than any of the pyramids of Egypt. It was easily as big as the tallest of skyscrapers. At the top of the pyramid, beneath where the three points came together, was an enormous eye. It was the symbol of the Illuminati brought to life. Commander Steel had been right.

Chapter 12 by starsky_hutch76

Baby Boom bounced eagerly into Dr. Trogg's lab. "I'm ready for my next treatment," she said enthusiastically.

"Ah, yes," Dr. Trogg said with a nervous flutter of his wings. "But you're not due for another week."

"I know," Baby Boom said. "I'm talking about my 'booster shot,' " she said with a wink.

"Ah... yes," Dr. Trogg said nervously. "I'm afraid I won't be able to continue those..."

"Wha--? Why not?" Baby Boom said with a high pitched, horrified yelp.

"I've... found it's not in the best interests of your health to continue these... pushes... in your aging," Dr. Trogg said, the talons of his back claws clicking on the linoleum as he paced about the lab. "In my enthusiasm, I failed to take possible adverse effects into consideration. For instance, the stress put on the body by sudden acceleration in aging could produce cancerous growths in previously non-cancerous regions. There's also--"

"You're saying I could have cancer?!?" Baby Boom yelped.

"Oh no! No!" Dr. Trogg stammered, holding up his hands. "You're in perfect health. But in good conscience, I can't continue to take such risks with your health. Hippocratic Oath and all you know."

"But you're not a physician. You're a scientist!" Baby Boom exclaimed.

"I still have a responsibility to those I treat," Dr. Trogg said, wagging his finger at her.

"Look -- I may look like a kid, but I'm an adult," Baby Boom said. "I can make my own decisions! I was stuck in the body of a baby for almost twenty years, and I'm just finally starting to get a taste of what it's like to start growing up! Don't take that away from me! Please!"

"I'm sorry," Dr. Trogg said.

Tears began to well up in her eyes, and Baby Boom turned and ran from the room. She knew he was lying, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears running down her little girl's face.

"You'll still receive the treatments that allow you to age normally, though!" Dr. Trogg called out to Baby Boom as the door slammed behind her. He let out a long sigh as he went back to his research. There were times he hated working for Commander Steel.