The Golden Age

He didn't look like the Aryan ideal, with his short stature, dark hair, and beady eyes, but he had convinced a nation to follow him. His name was Adolph Hitler, and he planned to rule the world.

He stood at the window of his ornate office, looking out on the streets of Berlin below. He didn't know that his attempt would fail, and beloved country would be divided for years after. Perhaps he wouldn't have cared.

That was the future.

At that moment in time, Hitler had a meeting with a captain from his army. He and his staff had devised a plan to attack Great Britain and this officer was in charge of the operation.

"I hope that you complete this task successfully," Hitler said, burning eyes on the officer. "If you do, we will have a beachhead to expand our power, and crush that fat Churchill once and for all."

"I assure you, sir," said the captain. "The mission will be a success and we control London inside the week."

"See that it is," said the Fuhrer.

In the fall of 1940, Clark Garret was the fastest man alive. He reveled in the fact he could go anywhere he wanted at the speed of thought. He had taught himself tennis by playing both sides of the court.

Garret's joy in his ability was tempered by the fact that he had become the guardian angel of the city of Cutter Bay. Others would appear to follow in his lightning footsteps, even his son, but he was the first, and some said the best of the breed.

And like every hero, Garret had enemies that wanted him dead.

Clark Garret, the Blinker, patrolled Cutter Bay and the surrounding Atlantic every fifteen to twenty minutes unless he came across something that required his attention. Then he would try to solve that problem as fast as his power allowed.

Observation of his habits allowed a group of Nazi sympathizers to sneak into a building between passes by the speedster. They set a trip line up across the most likely path their target would use on his brief runs.

The final piece of their trap was a vehicle with its hood up. That would make the hero slow down enough to be seen, so the trap could be sprung on him instead of behind him.

It was a piece of luck for the Fifth Column that their target always patrolled in a certain way. The Blinker slowed yards away as they planned, going at thirty-five to forty miles per hour. That gave them plenty of time to pull the trip line tight. The costumed hero skidded along the street after one of his legs hit the rope.

Everything was going according to plan. Then the plan came apart.

The Column members rushed out firing their weapons at the downed speedster. One bullet-riddled corpse would show the superiority of the Reich over even superhuman antagonists. One by one the weapons stopped firing as their magazines emptied.

"Make sure he is dead," the commander ordered one of his troops.

"I'm not," said Garret, standing so fast it looked like he had switched places instead of moving. Hundreds of spent bullets cascaded to the ground as he did so. "Anybody want to spill their guts?"

The saboteurs scattered, some trying to reload as they ran. They knew that the Blinker was fast, superhumanly fast, but they hadn't believed the reports. Now some of them were going to pay for that underestimation.

Garret started with the closest men, speed giving power to his punches as he knocked them down in the street, in the alleys, in shadowy doorways. Gray clouds started covering the area. One whiff of the fumes told the chemist that the men who had escaped his clutches had dropped tear gas to hold him down while they made their escape. He had to take the time to fan the clouds away before he could start looking for them.

Garret combed the nearby streets but the surviving Fifth Column members had taken the time to hide. He couldn't tear up the city looking for them. He gathered the ones he had already captured into a bundle, using rope he had found at a construction site to tie them up.

As Garret finished binding his attackers, a man in a pea coat and sailor's cap appeared from the shadows. The speedster snapped on guard in surprise.

"Hold on," the sailor said, raising his hands. "I need to ask you for some help."

The Blinker whisked his visitor to a nearby rooftop after notifying the police about what happened. From that vantage point, Garret could watch for a department van while he was listening to what the sailor had to say.

"My name is Jimmy Wishon," the sailor said. "London is about to be attacked by the Nazis, and I need help to stop it."

"The Nazis have been attacking England since 38," Garret said. "What's different about this?"

"One of their scientists has found something directly underneath London itself," said Wishon, looking across the city at the ocean. "I stumbled onto this while I was looking for work over there. When I tried to stop it, I got keelhauled for my troubles. I figured if I could get some help, I could go back and stop whatever they are doing. That's why I came to you. You have a good rep."

"Do you have any proof?," Garret asked, intrigued but not willing to trust a total stranger with his life.

Wishon reached into a jacket pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over. The paper was a piece of a map with notations in German and some other language that Garret didn't recognize. Ink arrows pointed to an x at the end of some kind of passage. The end of the passage was on the missing part of the map.

"I got this when I started looking around," said Wishon. "Then they fell on me faster than an anchor. I had to cut and run."

"I'll look into it," Garret said, turning the page over to look at the back. "I'll have to make sure the guys I caught get headed for the jail before I leave."

"Good," said Wishon. "I'll look into getting some more help while you're looking around just in case."

Waylon Waite sailed over Church Hill in the white costume he wore as White Star. He had found a jewel during a storm at sea, and it allowed him to do whatever he thought of such as flying a glowing sailboat over the skyline.

Waite worked as a reporter for WHIL, a radio station. He knew that Church Hill was in the midst of troubles with several gang bosses wanting a piece of whatever action they could. In the midst of this, some strange things were going on.

Several button men had turned themselves in for no apparent reason. One even said his conscience bothered him, and he wanted to clean his slate. Confessions from a bunch of hardcases were unheard of. None of his fellow reporters could explain the sudden changes of heart.

And then there was the strange man being called Nightmare by the underworld.

The glowing sailboat drifted over Church Hill International Airport. White Star would have usually used an automobile for traveling the city streets, but sailing the sky like this was a way for him to relax from the stress of his day job. It also allowed him to scatter anyone suspicious with a show instead of a confrontation.

Gunfire attracted Waite's attention as he reached the borders of the landing field. He turned his aircraft toward the rapid thunder he heard, willing more speed from the sails. A telescope appeared in his hand as he wanted something to look at the field below.

Three men stumbled out of a hangar. They fired wildly inside the metal building, seemingly scared out of their wits. One stumbled over his own feet, gun flying from his hand as he fell.

White Star thought he saw another man knock the stumbling man over, and kick his gun away. He blinked and there were only three men on the field.

White Star's sailing craft attracted the attention of the two gun men still on their feet. They decided to shoot at it as they ran for their car. The bullets clanged against the fake wood when they hit at all.

Waite frowned as he willed a platform to float in place under him. One thought changed the sailboat into a giant anvil. He let it fall as if it were a thing of real steel. The target was the getaway car. The created projectile hit the hood of the vehicle. The front end flattened under the unreal weight with explosions of tires.

Waite let the anvil fade into oblivion as he hovered above the scene. The gunmen fired at him, running away as fast they could across the open tarmac. They didn't get far before a white-haired man in a black cloak descended on them with crushing fists.

White Star dropped down to talk to the shadowy newcomer who had been the target of the gunfire.

Waite didn't know what to make of the strange man. He had a scarred, lean face, and a shock of white hair under a slouch hat. The collar of his ragged cloak partially concealed his chin from view.

"White Star," whispered the man in black. "An impressive entrance to say the least."

"I would have to say you're Nightmare from your getup," Waite said, smiling. "Do you want to tell me what this about before you fade away?"

"Nothing serious," said the shadowy avenger, the lines of his scars wrinkling as he smiled.

"You three are just the guys I have been looking for," said a voice from the night darkness. A man in a pea coat and cap stepped into view. "I need some assistance, and I know you guys are the ones who can help me."

Bert Lawson wondered how he had let Mary Kate Ashley drag him out of his dorm room for a tear jerker at Cade Theater just off campus. He tried to tell himself that he needed a break from the studying he was doing for his physics exam.

He wasn't succeeding.

Only Mary Kate's presence kept him from leaving. He thought he would endure walking through flames for her. The movie was bad enough.

His strange vision only made watching the movie worse since he could see the movement of molecules which distracted him from the plot. When he actually got back to what was going on screen, he was lost.

That was when the robbery started to his annoyance.

Bert and Mary Kate had taken seats in the back row of the theater. Mary Kate looked up in annoyance at patrons stepping into the auditorium, holding the doors open with their feet. Light washed down the central aisle, creating an eerie black and white tableau.

"Bert, what are those goons thinking?," Mary Kate said in a loud whisper.

"This is a robbery," said one of the late comers. "Everybody freezes in place, and no one will get hurt. My men will be coming down the aisles. Pass your valuables to them, and no holding out. Do as I say, and no will be hurt."

Masked men holding bags and pistols started at the back row. The bags were passed among the customers to be filled under the watchful eyes of the robbers. They were silent as they made sure they had each patron under scrutiny as the bags were handed along.

Bert grimaced as he handed over his mostly empty wallet. He wanted to jump up and hand his assailant a busted noggin, but Mary Kate was in the way, and there was no telling what would happen to the innocent bystanders if he made a move.

After the movie goers had handed over everything they were carrying, the robbers retreated back through the main entrance into the lobby of the theater. Bert jumped up, squeezing pass Mary Kate as fast as he could. He paused at the closing door, holding up his hand as others tried to crowd around him.

He cracked the door, peeking out with one eye. The masked men were already heading for the front door of the place. Some looked back to make sure no one had started following them yet. The student waited until they were on the street before running after them. He paused to make sure the street was empty before stepping out.

The robbers had piled into two automobiles and roared away before anyone could raise alarm. Bert could only watch as the cars vanished in the distance. He was about to go back inside when a man in a sailor's cap and coat stepped out of the alley next to the theater.

"Where's Particle?," the man said aloud as he looked around.

That made Bert pause.

Bert walked over to the stranger. He didn't know what to say to break the ice at first. Finally he just let things out without thinking about it.

"There's been a robbery inside the theater," Bert told the sailor, aware that either ocean was thousands of miles away. "The guys who did it are getting away in those cars. If you're looking for Particle, I'm sure he will show to look for those guys."

"Let's see where those guys are going," the sailor said.

Shadows erupted from his chest, producing a carpet of darkness under their feet. The carpet bounded into the air before Bert could protest, even if he wanted to protest. He tried to stay on his feet as the floating ribbon dragged him across the night sky like a solid flat cloud.

"Name's Jimmy Wishon," the sailor said as the carpet chased the two Packards across town. "I don't usually take on boarders so pardon the lack of accommodations."

"That's fine with me," said Bert. "Can you keep up with those guys?"

"Can fish stink?," Wishon said, smiling lopsidedly. "I don't want to go too fast or we'll leave them behind."

The carpet soared effortlessly, only pausing to hover when the cars parked behind a small house a few miles away from the city. Wishon gestured it to land in a stand of trees to give them cover to avoid being spotted.

"You wait here while I scope things out," Wishon said. "If there is any trouble, you get some help for me."

Bert nodded in agreement. As soon as the sailor started across the street, he shucked his outer clothes to reveal the blue and gold costume he wore as Particle. He pulled on gloves and a full mask as he circled to side of the house. He didn't think Wishon would turn down his help since he was the one the sailor was looking for.

Bert paused as he read the walls for a weak spot. One punch knocked a hole the size of a small truck through the wood. The robbers turned to face the masked hero as he smashed through the obstruction, flinging fragments in front of him. All attention was on him, so no one noticed the black shadows coming to life as Jimmy broke in the front door.

The resulting piece of chaos was short as the summoned creatures and the two heroes waded into their surprised foes. Jimmy smashed a scarred fist into the face of the last man seconds after he had entered the room.

"Particle," he said, smiling. "I've something to ask you."

Horace Caine looked out his window. Something tugged on him, something reaching into the ether that he used to view the mystical effects on the world. Something big was about to happen. He needed to investigate this.

Caine gestured as he walked to the window. A glowing serpent extended through the glass and surrounding wall. It carried him on its back, as feathered wings unfolded from the base of its glimmering skull.

Caine called forth his mantle, draping it around his body with a passing of serpents. A feathered cape dropped from a breastplate as a serpentine helm covered his face. Simple leather gauntlets covered his hands and forearms. Shoes flowed into boots over trousers.

The winged serpent carried Caine east from his apartment in Reagan City, to the Atlantic Ocean, and onward. His senses detected the burgeoning release of energy ahead. He didn't have much time left to prevent whatever disaster was about to unfold.

He urged his serpent to faster speed as the spell carried him over Ireland on the way to England.

Rick Taylor pulled the black hood over his face as he stepped out of his car. He had parked in a lot around the corner of the building. He had an appointment inside that building, but he had planned a surprise.

Taylor had discovered a chemical that had an odd effect on the human body. It gave the user the strength of sixty men while splitting him into sixty miniature duplicates. He had checked the compound's composition numerous times since he had invented it. The hour effect was the strongest that he could mix without suffering a collapse.

It had been enough when he had tested it. He hoped it was enough now that he was going to use it for real.

Taylor pulled his pill from a supply he had in his belt buckle. He swallowed it as he ran toward the building where he had his appointment. He reached the wall, blinking rapidly as energy coursed through his veins. Pieces fell from his body as the chemical did its work.

Sixty one-inch tall Rick Taylors invaded the building in the black and gold costume of the Minute Man.

The Minute Man lost some of his duplicates as he searched the premises. Time was not on his side. Finally one of his miniature copies found the room they had been looking for. All the other miniature men converged on that room while Taylor assessed what he could do with the strength and speed he had left.

Kevin Crockett had a daughter named Clarissa. She had been kidnaped from her university the day before Taylor's reconnaissance. A ransom note had been sent to the chemical tycoon demanding a wad of money in a carpet bag to be delivered at another place entirely. Taylor, a chemist who worked for Crockett had taken the note and scrutinized it with the help of his friend, and coworker, Keith Baxter. That had led the hourly knight to this side of town. Taylor had done a large amount of footwork to find this one building among all the other buildings in the area.

All of that had led Taylor to the moment he needed to act.

Clarissa had been left with just one man. He stood by the window, eyes on the street below. He didn't see the swarm of tiny men rushing him until they had grappled him to the floor and had bound him with his own belt.

"Hold on, miss," said the Minute Man with forty-five mouths. "I'll have you free in a moment."

Clarissa took a deep breath behind her gag as the tiny hands pulled at the ropes holding her to her chair.

"You have to help my father," Clarissa said after pulling her gag off. "They have arranged to meet him so they can kidnap him too. They told him to bring the ransom to Glen Park. We have to get there as fast as possible."

Minute Man considered the problem before deciding that he would have to risk Clarissa realizing who he was. There was no other way to get her to safety and try to cross town in time to help her father. He still had the power of forty-five men in his tiny bodies.

Each minute in delay would see his power shrink to nothing.

A horde of the still tiny heroes picked Clarissa up and carried her out of the room, while the rest headed for the park. When the pill wore off, he would have a fifty-fifty chance of being with Clarissa, or however far he had traveled to get to the park.

Rick Taylor reached the park, with the power of thirty men. He knew this because his height was half normal. Part of his remaining bodies were with Clarissa, escorting her to a police station. The rest had reached the park, and was searching for the place where the ransom was going to be paid.

Thirty doubles meant he still had enough power to overwhelm a small group of armed men even if the duplicates were the size of dwarves.

One of the Minute Men found Kevin Crockett talking to a hard-faced man about the contents of a bag he had in his hand. The seventeen Taylors present at the scene converged on that spot. They encountered some resistance from men hiding in the bushes. The hard fists of the hooded men stopped that with barely a sound escaping to alert the ransomer and the industrialist as they negotiated.

Crockett wanted his daughter back before handing over the money. The kidnaper didn't want to wait in the park for Clarissa to be brought by his partners. The argument stopped when Taylor bounded out of a bush in his hooded disguise and laid the ransomer low with one punch.

"Your daughter is safe, Mr. Crockett," said the Minute Man, inching past four feet tall. "Go get a cop and bring him back here to pick up these goons."

The Minute Man waited for the police after tying up the gang in the park. His power had worn off while he listened for anyone to take the kidnapers off his hands. He didn't like standing in the dark waiting to be shot by some trigger-happy policeman.

He heard someone coming down the path, brushing against some of the bushes.

"Minute Man?," called a voice. "Minute Man?"

Taylor waited until he could see the owner of the voice. A man in a dark blue coat and watch cap stood underneath a street light peering into the shadows beyond.

"I'm here," said Taylor. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"You're a lot taller than I thought," said the blue coat. "My name is Jimmy Wishon. I need some help, the kind of help that only a mystery man can give me. You're on my list and I have had a devil of a time tracking you down."

"Start from the beginning and tell me everything," said Taylor, interested in spite of himself. "Maybe I can help you."

Galvin Steppe soared over his small city, smiling as he grabbed the air and skidded along. Mt. Airy's lights matched the overhead stars as Steppe swam through his adopted element. He had recently learned of this talent and took delight in using it.

Galvin picked out a dark shape approaching from the north. Even with his incredible eyesight, details were a blur at that distance. He knew his own brown and bronze costume let him blend into the night sky as a dark blur.

Galvin hadn't encountered many with powers like himself. He knew they existed, read about them and heard about them on the radio. Fortunately his hometown didn't inspire a flood of criminal geniuses to emerge. He did know the more public heroes' costumes from drawings in the paper. As he drew closer, he recognized the black and gold costume of the Minute Man standing on a flying carpet with a stranger.

"What can I do for you fellows?," Galvin asked, hovering a few yards from the flat blackness the two strangers rode on. He had to walk in place to keep from slowly descending to the street below.

"We were hoping you could help us out," stated the Minute Man, faceless hood covering his expression.

Horace Caine hovered over London, standing on his serpent. He raised a hand. A slithering line directed him toward Whitechapel. The line pointed below the surface of the grimy city streets. Caine descended after it on the back of his ghostly steed.

Something was going on, something more dangerous than anyone involved suspected. Caine felt waves of hatred roil the air as he followed the line he had put on the trail. It felt like a summoning to the magician, or the opening of a doorway to places inimical to Earth.

Caine's eyes glittered behind the dragon head he wore. Definitely a door, he decided as he opened a snake mouth in the concrete to venture below the urban mass of the city. The glowing line of his locator spell lit the way for him as his steed carried him deeper into the tunnels as fast as he could go in the cramped confines he found himself traveling.

Mr. Destiny found a guard post in his way as he followed the glowing line. He dropped behind some debris piled up in the corridor from where a wall had been knocked down. Bullets bounced against the walls blindly as the sentries fired without being able to see him clearly. Sparks trailed the ricochets as they bounced around.

Caine made a throwing gesture with his free hand. Thousands of glowing snakes flew through the air at the guards. Bullets passed through the swirling mass as it attacked. The snakes wrapped around the terrified commandoes, dragging them to the ground.

Caine waited until he was sure that all of the guards were captive before stepping from behind his protection. He used a phantom light to make sure the tunnel was empty of any more defenders. He walked to where his snakes held the sentries down, frowning at the German weapons he saw.

"What are you doing here?," Caine asked in German.

Silence answered him.

"Don't think I won't squeeze you until your burst one by one," he warned his captives. "What are you doing here?"

Clark Garret paced through the streets of London. His speed allowed him to search the entire city in a matter of seconds. It took him several tries before he found the tunnel that Jimmy Wishon indicated would be there.

He made short work of the guards blocking his way with his superhuman speed. He searched the tunnels until he came across a man in a feathered cape and helmet questioning German soldiers held by glowing snakes.

"I don't think he knows anything," Garret said. "You might want to threaten him a little more, but I doubt that will get you anything."

"Perhaps you are right," said the dragon helm, turning to look at the Blinker. "I know that you are the Blinker from the United States. What brought you here?"

"A guy looked me up, and asked me to check things out," said Garret. "I don't know you, so why don't you tell me what's up with the light show."

"I am called Mr. Destiny," said Horace Caine. "I felt that something was wrong and flew here to investigate. I had hoped that these minions could tell me something, but you are probably right. Their commander perhaps did not explain what was going on here, other than seizing London in some way."

"The guy who talked to me is looking around for some help if you want to wait for it," said Garret, aware of the cool breeze and sour smell pushing against the exposed portions of his face under the goggles he wore to help with his disguise.

"I don't think we have the time," Caine said.

He waved his hands. Blue smoke dropped from his gauntleted hands in steamy ropes. Embers resembling eyes floated in the smoke as it covered the soldiers. When the cloud faded, all of the prisoners were sleeping.

"Let's see if we can find the rest of their forces," Mr. Destiny said.

The Blinker vanished as Caine started toward the buildup of powers that had disturbed him in Reagan City. He took one step before Garret reappeared at the mouth of the tunnel ahead.

"I think this is bad," said Garret. "Really bad."

The speedster took hold of his colleague and carried him to a doorway where two more guards had been punched out. Light streamed from inside the room, warping the floor in the corridor, making shadows dance in time to its pulses. The two mystery men couldn't get a good look at what was going on inside that eerie haze.

Mr. Destiny raised his hands. Faint amber became a glowing constrictor pushing against the dancing light in the chamber beyond. He followed it, his power straining against that of whatever was being tampered with inside that room. His serpent created a gray eclipse as he used it to force his way.

Garret followed the other, unsure how his speed was going to help in this situation. The glare prevented a charge. He just couldn't see beyond the snake's shadow. Suddenly he was over the threshold, but things looked worse inside the room than out.

A group of men in long robes stood in a circle. They were saying something, but Garret didn't understand it. That isn't what bothered him. What bothered him was the massive hole in the floor they were standing over, and it appeared to be the source of the light that permeated the room.

"This is bad," Caine said, surveying the scene.

Jimmy Wishon looked around. His carpet thing carried him and the heroes he could find over the Atlantic. White Star should be somewhere ahead with Nightmare. The sailor should be able to see them ahead any minute. Hopefully the Blinker had already stopped the Nazi infiltrators in their tracks. His passengers might be superfluous.

He hoped so anyway.

The Particle, Minute Man, Nightmare and The Eagle were minor heroes, but their raw power joined with White Star and the Blinker should be enough. It had to be enough. They were looking at the loss of liberty around the world if they failed. London could not fall.

"There's something white ahead," The Particle said. "That has to be that White Star guy."

"Right," said Jimmy, urging his platform to greater velocity.

The two strange aircraft raced side by side for a few moments before Jimmy landed his carpet on the deck of the glowing sailing ship cruising the sky. White Star nodded at his visitors as the flat monster vanished back into Wishon's chest.

"This is great," the Particle said. "How do you do this?"

"Willpower and concentration," said White Star. "As long as I think that I want a boat that can fly, then it does because I believe it will."

"How much longer before we reach England?," said the Minute Man.

"A few minutes," said Nightmare, looking up at the sky, white hair flapping under his hat. "We are traveling much faster than any airplane."

"Do we just charge in and ask the Germans to give up?," asked the Particle.

"I doubt they will do that," said Nightmare.

"Can you make this thing go faster?," Jimmy asked, standing in the bow. "We don't have much time, and I don't know if the Blinker stopped them."

The sun was threatening to explode over the horizon as the sailing ship cruised up the Thames to its destination. White Star landed on a roof as he let the boat disappear into nothingness.

"We're here," the projectionist said. "What now?"

"Now we find this secret place," said Jimmy, closing his eyes. "Then we can round the mugs up and turn them over to the English."

A gnat cloud erupted from his shirt, spreading out to search for signs of the enemy.

"Let's get started looking," he said.

Clark Garret aimed at one of the floating robed men. He swung his arm as fast as he could, throwing the small pebble as hard as he could. The improvised missile bounced when it hit the chest of the man. Clark noted that the man didn't stop chanting during the impact, and after when he should have been trying to catch his breath.

"Plan A is a bust," he said. "You got anything you can do?"

"I think I might have some resources for this situation," Mr. Destiny said, focusing his power, calling on his will to shape reality.

A long viper erupted from his gesturing fingers in a rainbow pulse. It flew like an arrow at the man Garret had picked as his target. If one of the men could be taken out of the link surrounding them, that might end the summoning. The spell bit the chanter, coiling around his arm as it sank its fangs in his neck. The man tried to keep up his rhythm, empowered somewhat by the mystic circle. Caine's spell finally pierced through the protective spell, and the minor wizard fell away from the pit.

"Can you do that with the rest?," Garret asked, holding another pebble in his hand.

"I think so," said Caine, readying to cast his spell again.

"Too late, meddler," announced the leader of the spell casters, slashing his hand down.

The light erupted into fragments which became things filling the air with rejoice at the end of their imprisonment. Caine raised a coiled snake to shield himself and the Blinker as the alien swarm made for the doorway, heading for the upper world in an ecstatic frenzy. The Nazi sorcerers flung blue hatred at the glowing serpent to expose the heroes to the beasts as they passed. Caine threw the snake at the enemy with a gesture. Some of the beasts were splattered as the yellow reptile lashed at its prey with abandon.

Garret used his arms to create a powerful wind to try and force the creatures back in the pit. Some were driven into the walls, some into the floor, some even fell back where they came from. Many circled around the speedster because there were too many for him to be effective in wrangling them.

Mr. Destiny set his serpents on the other wizards, sometimes plowing through any demon in the path of his spells. The Nazis could not be allowed to try and stop him as he rounded up the eruption of beasts that had been summoned. Putting them out of the way was the first objective as far as he was concerned.

The Blinker grabbed one of the safer looking things and used it as a living club as he flickered in and out among the enemy wizards. His super speed turned him invisible as he swung his improvised bat.

More beasts flowed into the room from the open sore in the earth. Mr. Destiny flung a green closing spell down the vent hole. The portal closed, pulled shut by the snake's tail. That limited the amount of minor creatures he would have to round up and send back, or destroy.

Some had already been broken by the Blinker's whirlwinds. It was nothing to banish them back to the underworld as they tried to gather their substances back so they could join the exodus.

"This is bad, isn't it?," Garret asked.

"There's hope if we move fast enough," said Caine, heading for the door.

The group of heroes from the United States had split up to cover more ground. White Star dropped them off as his sailing ship circled London. Waylon Waite expected a visit from the RAF to talk to him about violating the city's air space, especially since the bombing runs from the Luftwaffe.

The group expected the search to be long and tedious, even with Jimmy Wishon's demon gnats to help them. They were wrong about that. A few minutes after their search began, things began boiling up from the network under the city. The summoned creatures spread out from the epicenter of their emergence rapidly. Anyone caught in front of their attack was reduced to a bloody mess as the heroes moved to confront the demonic flow.

The Particle struck with his explosive punch, targeting any of the creatures that got too close. His molecular vision registered blurs so he couldn't identify a weak point, but that didn't stop the raw power of his punch from ripping holes in the misshapen bodies.

Minute Man popped a pill when the beasts first began their attack. His sixty miniature forms grabbed what they could with tiny hands, and used his extreme strength to throw the weird animals around. Some tried to snap up his miniature forms only to be met by a destructive, tiny fist.

The Eagle dove on some of the weird creatures to protect civilians in the crossfire. His weight and speed proved effective enough, but he needed something to help him deliver a bigger punch to what they were facing. He used his own flying power to keep the monsters off balance and chasing their own tails while the others did what they could.

Nightmare moved in the shadows, cloak and suit helping to hide him as he used the explosives he carried to direct his beasts toward a meeting with The Particle. The shorter man was literally knocking the demons' blocks off as they tried to surround and deal with him. The Church Hill Crusader moved as a piece of a cornice fell off from the building's side, above him. A demon who had gotten too close took the piece of concrete to its head with a splatter of purple substances.

Neither combatant had noticed the ghost on the roof above the fatal accident, nor had seen him pry the bricks apart with his invisible hands. The Haunter smiled as he flew on to arrange another accident.

White Star's sailing ship was the largest thing in the sky over the city. The creatures tried to get by without attacking the glowing craft. There were easier targets to destroy with their claws and teeth. Cannon along the sides of the galleons fired white beams into the crowd as they roared by. Ichor rained down from the deadly assault. That was enough for a few of the most gigantic monsters to smash in the keel of the projection. They smashed the false boat under the hero's feet as he tried to keep his balance. Suddenly he was falling toward the ground as his warship guttered out like a used candle.

Jimmy Wishon's gnats formed a shield around him as he stood on his flying carpet. They bit the larger creatures with enough ferocity to rip pieces away, turning the things into scattered pieces of meat and bone in an extremely short time. That split their onslaught as Wishon tried to decide how to recapture the loose animals flying through the urban canyons like maddened bats.

The Blinker appeared in the street below, his speed allowing him to attack numerous foes in the space of a few seconds. His companion soared into the air on the back of a shadow serpent, hands raised above his gauntleted hands.

Mr. Destiny regarded the unexpected aid to his task. He had never thought that other mystery men would appear at the critical junction where he found himself. The fact that a ghost was present with the group below was just icing on the cake.

The magician collected his thoughts, forming an idea that he could shape into reality with his will. He summoned his control over magic, imprinting his commands on the force flowing from inside him. Then he released it into the air over London with a thought.

Thousands of ribbons fell on the combatants. Released demons found themselves held by the glowing serpents raining from the magician's hands. The snakes retracted at blinding speed, dragging their prey with them into a swirling abyss. Only a small portion of the devils were captured by the spell. The survivors tried to scatter, tried to retreat from the mystery men intent on saving the city from additional harm.

The masked heroes combined their extraordinary abilities to stop that. White Star created a dome to fence the menace in. Some of the bigger things tried to break through by slamming their bodies against the white shell as hard as they could. The smaller ones tried to duck into the nearby buildings to prevent their exile back to their home dimension. Nightmare, the Eagle, the Blinker, Particle, and Minute Man used their skills to drag the beast down and dispose of them as rapidly as possible. Only the hovering Mr. Destiny and Jimmy Wishon, could see the ghostly Haunter arranging accidents for those monsters that escaped the others. Jimmy hovered opposite the snake mage, calling on his own spirits to drive away those that came too close to his living carpet floating on the air. His creations were smart enough to coordinate their actions on their enemies so they could exterminate even a large escapee in a matter of seconds with hungry maws and red claws.

Then Mr. Destiny cast his spell again.

Ribbons erupted from the magician's fingertips, twice as many in number as the previous ones. They lashed around the nearest ones in a pyrotechnic display. He concentrated, pouring his will into dragging the captured demons into the dark hole that he had created. One by one, the horrific invaders vanished like bursting bubbles. The spell ended with more than two thirds of the things gone from the sky over the embattled city.

The magician readied himself for another effort as his allies pushed the creatures into a compact mass with their abilities. It was time to end this.

Mr. Destiny put everything but what he needed to accomplish from his mind. Fatigue pounded on him, but he couldn't give up. One more spell might be the only thing that could trap his foes in the dimension of his own making. As tired as he felt, he knew that one bad move could bring everything back on him.

The serpent wizard pointed his hands again, glad that others had answered the need in front of them. London would have been destroyed without their assistance. He focused on that need to protect the city, calling on the power that radiated from its center. This was his last shot.

Giant serpents of light formed like ropes from his fingertips as he commanded their aid. The maws seized the horde's members and swallowed them as the snakes raked the sky insatiably. The demons that hadn't been killed by the adventurers seemed to have been sucked into nothingness as the magician erased their existence.

Mr. Destiny let the spell flicker apart as the last demon vanished from the battlefield. A lot of damage had been done to the city, and the people, but hopefully the heroes' interference had kept the loss of life and property down. London could have been destroyed if they hadn't been on the scene to block the effort.

The group below seemed weary, taxed to the limit by the battle they had endured against the released horde. They gathered together below, discussing what they had just survived. The cloaked defender of Church Hill brushed off his hat and cape while averting his scarred face from anyone who tried to look too closely at his visage.

"Some of them got away," said a sudden voice in the magician's ear. "Headed west."

The magician had forgotten the ghost that had seemed to be helping his living colleagues. He turned his attention in the indicated direction and sensed the fleeing monsters with a small amount of effort. They seemed to be the biggest of all the marauders set loose by German spellcrafters.

Once more into the breech he told himself.

"We have some more work to do," Mr. Destiny explained. "Some of the things escaped. We have to go after them and stop them before they hurt anyone else. Are you with me?"

"Do you have to ask?", said the chilling voice of Nightmare, gloved hand pulling his hat low over his face.

"Let's hurry up and do it," said Minute Man, blood seeping from several cuts across his chest and arms. Some of his duplicates had been lost in battle, but he had lost more as his pill's effect wore off. "I'm running out of steam."

The mystery men took the air, applying first aid as they searched for their quarry in the sky. Mr. Destiny frowned under his dragon mask as his senses reached out on scaly threads.

"They separated," he announced. "So we will have to do the same."

Mr. Destiny told them the directions that the demons had fled. Two were headed toward Washington, one toward Downing Street, two were heading across the Channel. White Star, Nightmare, Particle, Minute Man, the Blinker and the Eagle would handle the ones flying toward the States. Jimmy Wishon and Mr. Destiny would handle the other three as well as they could until the other group could rejoin them.

The mystery men divided up and set to their tasks.

Mr. Destiny rode his serpentine mount toward the home of Winston Churchill. He concentrated on the rest of his energy, hoping he had enough to handle the last of his summoned enemies before anyone else was really hurt. He rubbed his hands together, letting energy twine around his fingertips as he thought of the spells he might need to bring to life. He hoped Jimmy Wishon could handle the other two until he could catch up, if he could catch up.

The unleashed force smashed windows with invisible claws as it stalked down the street. Pieces of brick rained from the walls under the unseen impacts. Two red spots, the only visible things, marked where eyes would have been on a man fourteen feet tall. Number 10 waited for it, a tough building reigning over the street like an old spinster.

Mr. Destiny raised both hands, knowing that he was running on his reserves, just like Minute Man. He couldn't hold out for any length of time. The magician had to deal with this as quickly as he could before he dropped.

The demon turned to face his adversary, swinging an invisible arm with foot long talons at the end of its elongated hands. Its red eyes glittered at the thought of spilt blood.

Mr. Destiny retreated from the blow, raising both hands. He activated the spell in his mind. A scaly snake's head lunged forward as a glowing serpent struck from his palms. The spell bit deep in the creature's body as it wrapped around the outstretched arm.

The magician dodged the next few swings as his enemy tried to bring him down, where he could be dealt with. He was pleased that the poison his spell had injected in the demon was slowly taking the creature apart. Pieces of skin unwound like ribbon from a spool as the thing tried to latch onto its more mobile prey.

The frustrated demon howled one last time before it gave up its body once and for all.

Jimmy Wishon urged his flying thing to go faster. He was near one of the two demons he needed to chase down. The other had broke northeast, and was flying through the air as fast it could go. Jimmy had to make a choice, and decided he would have to deal with the closest one first before he turned his own path after the other one.

He knew that the escaping demon could do a lot of damage after it made landfall wherever it was going. He couldn't worry about that. He had to stop the one he could first. For that he would need an awful big hammer in his hand.

Jimmy knew he was the same as the effect that the Nazis had wanted to create with their spell. He was a living portal to summon monsters to the world of the living. He concentrated, reaching inside himself for an assistant that could handle that monstrosity heading for France.

A clawed hand flowed out of his chest, reaching for the fleeing demon. The iridescent scales of the emerging creature contrasted with the smooth gel appearance of the other. The killing machine turned as the rest of Jimmy's monster crawled out of his chest. The two aimed at each other like arrows and collided in midair.

Jimmy wanted to stay and make certain his monster won the battle as the two tore into each other with their taloned hands. He couldn't do that. He had to continue after the other one and vanquish it as fast as he could. His ally would have to look after itself until he could return.

Jimmy urged his mount after the other flying thing. He had a feeling it was headed toward Russia, the same as the one back in London went to the residence of the Prime Minister. It didn't take any real figuring to realize that the other ones crossing the Atlantic were heading toward Washington, D.C.

Such an effort would cripple any alliance if it were to succeed. The top officials would have to be replaced to continue fighting. That might be enough to cause the free world to bow to Hitler.

I'll never let that happen.

Jimmy closed the distance between him and the other master demon. He searched the mental catalogue of the things inside him for anything he could use. They were over ground now, but he didn't know how close the thing was to its goal. He couldn't let that monster drop into Moscow to kill who knew how many people.

He had to act with what he had.

Jimmy Wishon opened the portal in his chest as far as it would go. A swarm of giant hornets flowed from the wound. They massed on their escaping brother, biting it with huge mandibles. It trashed in the air as it tried to fight off its hungry attackers. The insects reduced it to dust flowing through the wind before it landed in search of its goal.

Jimmy called his insect army back into his body, black light playing from the tattoo on his chest. He had to retrieve his other monster if it was still alive. Then he could regroup with the others. The battle wasn't done yet.

Clark Garret raced across the surface of the ocean like a human rocket. Those two escapees were fast, but not nearly as fast as he was. White Star had placed his glowing ship under full sail, but it was slow compared to his lightning speed, no matter how fast it was compared to the mundane aircraft flying all over the world.

It was up to the Blinker to stall these monsters until his back up arrived, and that was what he was going to do.

The Blinker began running in a circle on the surface of the ocean, drawing the water up into a spout. He aimed the growing waterspout at the lead monster, drawing it along with his slipstream. The demon tried to veer out of the way, but it was a case of too little, too late. The circling wall smashed into it. It dropped into the Atlantic with a loud splash.

The Blinker almost laughed at his success. Now he had to stop the other one. That wouldn't be as easy since it had seen his best trick in action. Still there had to be something he could do to hold it until the rest of the group arrived to help him.

The speedster rushed away from the scene, then reversed so fast his wave was still rising in front of him. He stepped up the improvised path, leaping with all of his speed behind him. He rocketed through the air, a red blur aimed for the heart of his enemy. The demon held up its hands as a thousand blows pummeled it in the space of a few seconds. It dropped toward the water, as the lightning rained on its armored body.

Garret jumped away from the falling demon at the last moment. He had no desire to ride it under the water, and possibly get trapped when the ocean hampered his power to move. He hit the Atlantic running, looking for his two opponents to surface.

The Blinker didn't have to wait long as the first monster took to the air again, striving to get out of his reach as it headed west. The other got in front to stall any effort he might try to stop the primary assassin. Garret noticed the dents he had pounded in were popping out as it recovered from the beating he had given it with his speed powers.

Garret almost smiled as he charged the blocker. The thing would be expecting him to pound on it again, possibly wanted to grab him to neutralize his superior speed. Then his frail body would be shark food when it was done with him. Garret had a plan of his own. That plan was to keep them both chasing him until help arrived. Their speed, faster than most natural things out there, was nothing to his. It was like a falling leaf compared to a bullet hitting a target at the same distance. The Blinker ran up the front of the demon, using it as a ramp. He kicked off its head into a tremendous leap. He landed on the back of the first monster just like he planned.

Now his fists worked as hard and fast as he could throw punches.

The Eagle stood in the bow of White Star's flying sailboat, eyes staring out over the water. He smiled tightly under his hooded mask.

"The Blinker has stopped the two things ahead of us," he said, pointing. "We've almost caught up."

"I can't see a thing," said Minute Man, his last duplicate merging with him as his time ran out. "I'm out of power."

"He's right," said Nightmare, looking through a set of binoculars. "It looks like we need to help him."

White Star frowned up at his full sails. There was no way he could coax more speed out of his craft. It was powered by his will, and he was almost exhausted from the two trips over the water, and the battle in London. One of them would have to go ahead to help the Blinker, and only one of them could fly.

White Star diverted some of his will to create a catapult on the deck of the ship. He made sure it was in the bow, aimed for the battle between the speedster and his monstrous opponents. That should boost the Eagle's flight speed enough to get him to the battle so he could provide some kind of distraction until the rest of them arrived.

"Climb aboard the catapult, Eagle," White Star said, pointing to the glowing hurler. "It'll get you there faster than what I can do with the boat itself."

The Eagle nodded, climbing into the seat of the thing. He was the only one who could fly on his own, and was the logical choice for this. He just wished he was more physically powerful. His punches weren't going to stop those things, maybe not even distract them like the group planned.

He would do his best. That was all he could do.

The catapult unwound, flinging the Eagle forward at the end of its long arm. He rocketed forward, aiming for the second monster as the Blinker pounded on the first with his inhuman speed. He knew the thing was faster than him. He just needed it to forget what it should be doing, and chase him until the rest of the group got there to help him out.

The Eagle smashed into his target with both feet. He bounced away to glide to a stop in front of the monster. It roared a challenge as it surged upward at him. Its talons reached for him as he pushed away from the killing blow. It kept coming, hoping to bull through the flying mystery man.

A shark leaped out of the Atlantic below the combat. Its large jaws closed on the demon halted by the Eagle. The monster looked amazed as the killer fish pulled it down to the water, trying to bite through its leg in a frenzy.

A man in a brown suit flickered in the air. It was just a second's worth of image that popped out of existence. It was enough to convince the Eagle he wasn't the only flier fighting for the Allies at the moment like he thought.

The Blinker and the Eagle pushed their attacks as the two demons tried to pull away from them. The Eagle had his in the ocean, sharks taking bites as more and more came to the scene in a feeding frenzy. They ate anything, and foul tasting flesh didn't deter them from their basic instincts.

The heroes' invisible ally smiled as he rose above the battle. His ability to haunt was limited against things like the ones trying to cross the ocean. That didn't stop him from trying with what power he did have.

White Star's galleon sailed into battle, Particle and Nightmare standing at the bow. The cloaked crusader's grappling hook was secured to the mast of the glowing boat, the attached line around his wrist. He had prepared another line for the smaller man.

"Don't miss," his whispery voice said.

The smaller man nodded at the sentiment, even as his hood hid any expression.

The two swung down from the floating ship in opposite directions. Nightmare dropped over the one in the water, struggling with the sharks. He released grenades of his own design as he swung through the air, cloak billowing behind him in a ragged spray. The explosives fell on top of the battle, stopping it with a series of wave causing bangs. Ichor polluted the Atlantic as the surviving sharks went about their business.

Particle had aimed himself at the flying demon being pounded by the Blinker. The creature was taking a beating from the fast hands of the speedster, but it struggled forward. The hooded man's fist glowed as he looked for a weak point. His vision failed inexplicably to break down what molecules made up his enemy. He took aim and swung as he passed on the way back toward the boat. All of his energy released against the strange material of his target. Its head scattered to pieces causing it to drop in the ocean with its comrade.

The Blinker landed on the water, pounding his feet to keep from dropping into the feeding frenzy under him. Purple blood bubbled everywhere as the sharks had their way, ripping into the helpless flesh of their victims.

He hoped that was the end of it. His hands were sore from the pounding he had dished out already to the one he had tried to stall.

epilogue

Jimmy Wishon stood in the corner of the meeting room that the group had rented out a week after the failed summoning. He was the only unmasked man in the room, unless you counted Nightmare's scarred visage. They didn't quite trust each other, but they were already making plans to get a central base together to help defend the United States from other threats. He hadn't considered that the men he gathered would stay together after the event was over.

Jimmy took stock of the men who talked and laughed around him. They sipped their favorite drinks, but he noticed they seemed to be waiting for some call to arms, some emergency they needed to take care of. Socializing was something they were doing to pass the time until they could leap into action again.

He knew that he should be going. Heroism was for those who were suited for it. He was just a sailor with a strange gift amidst those who would throw down everything to beat someone trying to harm others. He refused to think like that, even though his efforts to stop things from getting out of hand started the ball rolling.

"You're the hero of the hour," said a voice at Jimmy's side, and a little above his shoulder. "You saved the world. What are you going to do for an encore?"

"Who are you?," said Jimmy, looking at the thing accosting him.

"I'm the Haunter," said the voice, which belonged to an average looking man in a brown suit. His cadaverous appearance, and glowing eyes told Jimmy that he was talking to a ghost. "I tagged along and helped out where I could."

"You're the one that caused the sharks to appear," said Jimmy. "They told me about that, but I didn't believe it."

"I'm just a ghost lending a hand," said Haunter. "I'll be around when you need something. You have assembled a group to help with the war. Don't let it go to waste when the world needs them."

Jimmy glanced around the room again. He nodded, knowing that some of the best heroes in America were present, and ready to lend a hand to protect their country. He wasn't surprised when the ghost was gone when he turned back to talk to it.

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