Dial H for HERO

Apokolips Wow

Book 2

by Martin Maenza

“Rise and shiny, my precious!” a deep, gravely voice cooed.

“Huh…? Wha…?” a black skinned man, tall and well-built dressed in a skintight black body suit with gray highlights, groaned. His eyes were narrow slits, hardly opened. His body ached all over. “Five more minutes…”

“No one asks for time from Granny!” the voice said, now more irate. A large, white haired woman of about two hundred and fifty pounds, more fit than fat, dressed in green scaled armor, barked. She grasped a nearby cylindrical weapon with her chubby, pointed-finger-nailed hand firmly and shoved it into the man’s side.

“Aaaaaaaaaah!” Jet-black roared as an electrical surge coursed through his body. His whole body jumped up a few inches, only to be held down by the metal bonds that bound his hands and feet.

Granny Goodness turned up her fat, dark lips into a wicked smile. “That’s right! Cry for Granny! Beg me for mercy!”

Jet-black gritted his teeth and strained to see through the pain. The woman had a demonic appearance, and she seemed to revel in his torture. What kind of Grandmother was this?

He tried his best not to yell out. After all he had been through – battling creatures called Parademons back in Seattle while trying to help a blonde man they were pursuing, blindly following them through some kind of spatial transport tube and ending up on this hellish pit of a world called Apokolips, and eluding squads of goons who would just as soon beat him down instead of talk to him – he wasn’t about to give up just yet.

Granny watched him fight the assault and frowned a bit. “A fighter, eh? All the better!” She adjusted the control on the end of the weapon, increasing the current. “There is nothing more that I like than to break a strong will!”

Jet-black threw his head to the side and screamed again. “Aaaaaaaaah!” He forced his brown eyes open wide, only to see that an audience was watching his torture. One was a tall woman with black hair tied back into a single ponytail. She wore a dark, tight outfit with silvery straps about her arms, chest and face mask. The second was a shorter, muscular woman in orange and yellow. She wore goggles about her eyes and had a skull and crossbones on her helmet. The third was a yellow skinned harpy with long, green hair. She hopped about back and forth, cackling with glee. “Give it to him, Granny!” the later one said. “Teach him a lesson!”

The first one grabbed the speaker and pulled her aside. “Quiet, Mad Harriet!” Lashina lectured. “Let Granny do her job!”

“Lashina’s right,” Stompa said solemnly.

Granny Goodness craned her neck. “Quiet, my Female Furies!” she scolded. “I need to question this stranger! Find out who he is and why he is here.”

The evil woman turned back to Jet-black. “Now, tell Granny what she wants to know, whelp!”

“I…I came to…aaaaaaah….” Jet-black screamed between his words as Granny prodded him once more in the side. “…to…to save someone…”

Granny laughed. “Save someone?” she repeated. “Looks like we have some kind of hero here, girls! You know what Granny does to heroes, don’t you?”

The Furies all chattered at this. They all had witnessed and experienced first hand the wonderfully painful tortures that Granny was capable of inflicting. She turned many a wayward Hunger Dog into a mean, fighting machine over her many years at running this obscene orphanage.

“Granny!” a voice called over the sound of the Furies, the shock-wand and the screaming. “Granny!”

The large woman turned to see a tall, thin woman with short, black hair enter the chamber. She wore green robes. “Bernadeth!” Granny said with some dismay. “Why do you interrupt me at this time? It had better be worth it, or you shall be punished severely!”

“It is of extreme importance, Granny,” the narrow faced woman said respectfully. “It is Pandora! She is here to see you.”

“Pandora?” Granny said, spitting the name out. “She can wait…”

“Is that wise, Granny?” Bernadeth questioned the mistress. “Surely she will tell her father, Darkseid, that she was kept waiting…”

Granny considered. She did not with to incur the wrath of Lord Darkseid. “True!” she admitted. She shoved the weapon once more into Jet-black’s side, sending one more jolt of current through him. Then she pulled it away, switched it off and placed the weapon aside. “Very well. This one can wait until later.” Granny’s orange cape swirled behind her as she strode for the doorway.

Bernadeth turned and followed after her. The other Furies paused.

“Go,” Lashina said. “I will watch the prisoner.” Stompa and Mad Harriet nodded, and then went after the others out of the chamber.

Lashina waited for the door to close and latch before she walked over to the bound man. She took her blue-black gloved hand and traced it about the man’s cheek. “What an interesting specimen of a man;” she said softly.

Jet-black groaned and turned his head. “…help me…” he pleaded softly.

Lashina laughed in his face. “Me? Help you? I think not!” she said. “What would I care about you or this other person you came to help?”

Jet-black dropped his head. “…I’ll find him on my own then…” he said with despair.

“You’ll find no one!” Lashina said sharply. “Before you step foot out of here, Granny will break you! Many have tried to resist her, but in the end Granny always succeeds. She is a true mistress in the art of discipline!”

She watched the man take in her words. She hoped they would discourage the prisoner. While appearing a bit dejected, she saw no fear developing. The man appeared to not care what might happen to him. Could he be that altruistic? “This man…why is he so important to you? Friend? Family?”

Jet-black shook his head. “No…” he said. “I hardly know him. I…I don’t even know his name.”

Lashina laughed at this. “A stranger? You risk your own life, coming to Apokolips, for a stranger? You truly are a fool then and deserve all that happens to you. What is so special about this stranger?”

“I…I don’t know,” Jet-black had to admit. The way this woman put it all it did sound kind of ridiculous. Sure, he had a special H-dial that allowed him to gain amazing super-powers every time he gave it a spin, but did that truly make him a hero? Right now, he wasn’t so sure. “He did seem capable enough when those Parademons attacked him.”

“Parademons?” Lashina asked with some interest. “He was attacked by Parademons here?”

“No,” Jet-black said. “Back on my world.”

“Which is?”

“Earth,” Jet-black said without thinking, not that it really mattered. She probably had never heard of it.

Lashina however seemed interested in more. “Tell me about this man,” she said. “Why did you consider him so capable? Is he some great fighter? A warrior?”

Jet-black saw no harm in continuing the discussion. Maybe, maybe he could sway her with his words. “This man…he wielded some kind of weapon. A golden, triangular thing that could shoot bolts of energy and such.”

Lashina’s eyes grew wide. A golden triangle… she thought. Could it be…?

“Tell me more about this man!” she demanded. “Was he a criminal?”

The hero paused. He hadn’t even considered that. When he found him on that rooftop apartment in Seattle, fighting the creatures, he assumed the man lived there. It was possible the man could have been a thief. Did this woman somehow know him, or think she did? Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. “I don’t know,” Jet-black said in all truth. “He very well could have been.”

“Did he wear a costume of green? With goggles?” Lashina asked.

“He wasn’t wearing anything like that when I met him,” Jet-black again said in truth.

“Was his name Angelo? Angelo Bend?”

“I told you before that I never got his name. Angelo could certainly be his name.”

Lashina growled and pounded her fist on the table. She was obviously frustrated by the prisoner’s inability to answer her questions completely.

Jet-black decided to use that. “Look, I need to find him,” he said, “find out if he is still alive or not.”

The woman considered. “Not if I find him first…” she growled. Lashina started to turn to leave.

“Wait!” Jet-black cried.

“Why?”

“Take me with you!” the black man said. “Please…”

Lashina laughed. “Why? she asked again.

Jet-black was taken off-guard. He really didn’t have a solid answer. Then he considered. “Because…” he started to say. “Because…I know what he looks like. I can help you find him.”

Lashina shook her head. “What makes you think I can’t find him myself?” she said confidently.

Jet-black smirked. “Maybe you can,” he said. “Or maybe you can’t. If this man was capable of fending off a horde of Parademons, surely he is resourceful enough to hide his identity.”

Hmmm, Lashina thought. The Angelo Bend she knew was one who worked all the angles, leaving very little to chance. If he were somehow here, on Apokolips, she was not about to let him get away. She owed him! If anyone were going to punish him, it would be she!

Jet-black noticed her pondering. He pressed his point. “You can’t find him without me,” he said. “I can’t escape without you. Looks like we both can help one another out. You look like a smart woman. What do you say?”

The warrior considered. She then leaned closer and whispered into the man’s ear.
***

 

Ten minutes later, Jet-black was soaring down the darkened hallways of the basement of Granny’s orphanage, sticking to the shadows that clung to the high stone ceilings. He ignored the sounds of moaning, children in chains and the cracks of whips as the hairless youth were worn down by constant assaults. Some of their torturers were garishly dressed girls, hardly more than teenagers themselves.

It took every ounce of self control for Jet-black to not fly down there to aid them. His mind told him there was little he could do for all of them right now.

He shook his head, driving those thoughts away. He had to concentrate on his own survival instead. Jet-black continued to count the turns and stretches as he flew. I can’t believe that woman went for it, he thought to himself. The fact that she had set the timer on his bonds to unlock a few moments after she had whispered her instructions in his ear was evidence that she was convinced to help him.

Or, he suddenly thought, maybe it all was a trap? Did she let him go just to test him?

I’ve got nothing to lose, he thought as he turned left and then took a quick right. The hatch to the drainage tunnel should be just around the corner. Sure enough, just as Lashina said, he spied the huge door with a turn wheel.

Another twenty minutes later after trudging through waist-deep sewage and gunk, Jet-black emerged back outside the building. The fowl air of Apokolips filled his lungs. “Ah, the smell of freedom,” he said sarcastically.

From the shadows, a female figure reached out and pulled him aside to the shadows. “Quiet, fool!” Lashina ordered. “I can’t be seen with you out in the open.” She gestured as an aero-squad soared high overhead, heading west.

Jet-black nodded. She seemed sincere about this risk she was taking. Obviously she did feel she knew the man he was here to rescue; whether she did or not didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that she could act as a guide, helping him avoid being discovered or being recaptured again. “So, you know this hellhole better than me,” he said. “Where would some of those demon guys have taken my friend?”

Lashina considered. “Darkseid commands them,” she said. “His Tower of Rage is that way, across the Armagetto.” She gestured towards the main avenue, over a mile long and hundreds of yards wide. Beyond the giant steel walls that lined each side, factories spewed forth pollutants into the air and ground. Thick clouds floated along the top levels of the buildings, many hundreds of feet high.

“Armagetto?” Jet-black said. He knew of ghettos back at home. This one sounded a lot worse than he could ever imagine. “The way you said that, it sounds bad.”

“Very!” Lashina said. “But it is nothing compared to Darkseid himself.”

Jet-black considered. He had seen the statues of the ruler of this place all over. “He sounds like one mean dude.”

Lashina smirked. “If your fellow Earth man is with Lord Darkseid, you’ll never rescue him!”

“Is there anywhere else he might have been taken?” Jet-black asked.

Now it was Lashina’s time to consider. “The only other one with the nerve to use Darkseid’s forces for a raid on Earth would be Desaad…”

“I’ve heard that name,” Jet-black said. “Could he…?”

“We could check,” Lashina said. “There is a better chance the man will be alive if Desaad has him.”

“Yeah?” Jet-black perked up.

Lashina twisted her lip. “Not a big chance mind you, just a better one.”

Jet-black was willing to take that chance. “Let’s go there first then.”

Lashina nodded and started to lead the way.

The pair made as good of time as they possibly could while crossing the desolate neighborhoods and still remaining undetected. There were more patrols about, but they mostly harassed the residents. They didn’t appear to be searching for him just yet. Still, watching how the Hunger Dogs were treated on top of the punishment the children endured at the hands of that wicked Granny woman made Hero’s stomach ache. Apokolips was truly a hell of a world!

And yet none of it seemed to faze his unlikely of traveling companion. Lashina seemed to uncaring of the plight of others, so focused on whatever it was she desired. Truly the environment where on was raised had a lasting effect on the type of person they came to be!

As they reached the far end of Armagetto, a huge statue of Darkseid loomed before them. Beyond it was a mighty fortress of a tower.

Jet-black swallowed. “I thought you said we were going to check on this Desaad fellow first.”

Lashina nodded. “We are. His labs are just to the side of the Tower. Come on!” She took off in a run. The black hero followed.

They stopped against a stone wall. Lashina looked up to an open window hundreds of feet above. “There!” she said. “Now we climb.” She started to reach for one of her lashes to use as a rope.

“Allow me,” Jet-black said. Grabbing her from behind, placing his arms under hers and grasping them together in front, he began to take to the air. In a moment, the two were raising towards their entry way. When she turned her head to look at him, the hero smiled. He put her down on the ledge and touched down himself.

Lashina spun about and slapped him across the face. “Don’t ever touch me without permission!” she said in a loud whisper. She slipped inside.

After rubbing his cheek where it stung, the hero shook his head. She’s one crazy lady! He moved his hand up to his chest to where his H-dial still remained safely hidden beneath his costume. He felt some reassurance. If push came to shove, he still had the dial to help him try to get out of any tight situation. Jet-black slipped inside.

Moving through the darkness, he could hear the screams coming from ahead of him. He knew that sound well, for it sounded like someone being similarly tortured as he had been earlier. His eyes adjusted to the shadow as he saw Lashina crouched down behind some rather large equipment. Jet-black joined her as they looked upon a scene unfolding in the lab below them.

A blonde man was strapped by thick bonds to a metal table tilted at a forty-five degree angle, his black clothes torn to rags. He screamed out in pain as a thin, pointed faced man dressed in purple robes and a hood prodded him with a small device.

Jet-black winced, recalling his own torture earlier. This was the man whom he came to rescue, and he was about to do so. He started to rise up.

Lashina grabbed him and pulled him down. She shook her head silently no. “Not yet,” she whispered.

The man in the robe snarled at his victim. “Again, what is your name?” Desaad demanded.

“…arl…” the victim groaned. “…Carl Browning…”

Desaad shoved the shocker-device into the man’s side. “That name means nothing to me! Are you the one called Angle Man?”

“Aaaaaaaaghhhh!” Carl Browning screamed out as the charge surged through him. His head fell to the side as the attack faded.

Desaad grabbed him by the hair and turned his head up. His wicked face with gritted teeth was directly into Browning’s own. “Are you the one called Angle Man?” Each word was emphasized with Desaad’s irritation.

Browning opened his mouth to speak but could not. He shook his head no.

Desaad threw the head back against the metal table. “If you are not, then explain to me why you have this!” He reached into a drawer and pulled out the golden Angler device.

It was now Lashina’s turn to rise slightly, but she caught herself. Jet-black saw her though and noticed the change in her posture. She was like a cat, ready to pounce on a mouse. Why?

Desaad approached his victim with the weapon. “Do you know what this is?”

Browning raised his head slightly, nodded. “…yes…” he groaned.

“It is yours then?” Desaad demanded.

Browning shook his head, first yes then no. “…not mine…my wife’s…”

“Your wife’s?” Desaad said with surprise. “Explain! Where did she get it?”

“…in…” Browning started to say before he slipped into unconsciousness.

Desaad grew angrier still! He swung the metal device and smacked the prisoner in the face with it. “Where did she get it?”

Blood ran down Browning’s lip as he jerked his head back and focused. He saw the weapon that had struck him and the ghoulish man wielding it. His head was racing, confused. He felt lost. His mind wrestled with itself on whether to answer the question or not. Finally, he blurted out a word. “…Vegas…”

“Vegas?” Desaad repeated in a confused way. In frustration, he prodded the victim again for a long time. The man screamed out.

“Vegas!” Lashina muttered in hiding. She started to rise up.

Jet-black looked at her, trying to piece it all together. Obviously this meant something to her. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Lashina was about to emerge from the shadows. “Des…” she started to say.

A hand in the shadows grabbed her, pulling her back and at the same time sending a charge through out her body. Caught off-guard, Lashina’s body went limp before she could utter another syllable. Her body fell back into awaiting arms.

Jet-black spun around, noticing a figure in the darkness holding her unconscious body. “Who…?” he started to say.

“Ssshhhh,” the figure said as he put Lashina’s body down. “That stun charge should keep her immobilized and quiet for awhile.” Then he moved closer, revealing that he was a man with white hair and blue-gray eyes, wearing red robes with orange trim and collar. “She would have betrayed you, my friend,” the man said, “turned you over to Desaad to get what she wanted.”

“Who are you?” Jet-black said, confused.

The man moved closer so he could whisper loud enough to be heard. “I am called Himon,” he said. “I am here to help you.”

“How did you…? Why…?”

“I’ve been aware of you since your arrival on Apokolips,” Himon said. “I have eyes and ears everywhere. You appear to be one possessing a good soul, kind of heart and honorable. I could not let one such as you be taken advantage by the scourge of this planet. Even though you do possess some kind of amazing device that allows you to change your form, I wasn’t completely sure if you could do this without some help.”

Jet-black put his hand to his chest where the dial was hidden under his shirt. How did he know? “You know why I’m here?” Jet-black then asked.

“To rescue that man you hardly know,” Himon replied. “And while it would be a benefit to have one such as yourself as part of my rebellion, I know your heart does not belong here. You seek to go home.”

“Yes.”

“And I can help with that,” the man in red replied. “But first we must rescue your friend.”

Jet-black nodded. While he liked the flying skills and speed he currently possessed, he knew they would do him little good in the catacombs of a place such as this. He would also need something more to free the Browning man.

He reached under his shirt and pulled forth the H-dial. “Let me change first,” he said. With his finger, he activated the dial. H-E-R-O. With the last selection, the form of Jet-black shimmered and changed.

Himon watched with great curiosity. He was a master of science himself as well as a visionary. He had invented the Boom Tube and helped discover the amazing x-element. However, this device intrigued him. He heard a slight ping-ping coming from the folds of his robes. “Yes, Motherbox,” he said softly. “It is intriguing indeed.”

Hero Cruz went from Jet-black to a slightly more muscular form in black and gray. The black man felt a bit more stronger. He flexed his muscles to get a feel for his new form. “Hmmm,” he said. “I guess Mr. Might will have to do.” He turned to Himon. “Want me to go provide the distraction?”

Himon shook his head. “No, I will handle that,” he said. “I think I can offer Desaad some bait he cannot resist.” He reached into the folds of his cloak and produced something. “Here. Take this.” He handled a small box to the young hero.

Mr. Might took the small cube and held it in his hand. “What’s this?” he asked. It pinged softly. “Wild.”

“A spare Motherbox,” Himon said. “One that should provide you the means to get back to your home. Just talk to her when it is time, and she will do the rest. Now, wait for your opening.” And with that, the man ducked back into the shadows.

“…OK…” Mr. Might said. The box felt oddly comfortable in his hand. Suddenly, Mr. Might heard a commotion in the lab below.

“Himon!” Desaad shrieked. “You have some nerve…!”

“Come on, Desaad,” the man in red mocked from across the way. “You’ve always said you could match me intellect to intellect. Why don’t you prove how smart you are by catching me?”

Desaad cursed. “Oh, I will, I will!” He pressed a button on a nearby console and shouted. “Guards! To my lab!” He then picked up the stunner he had been using to torture Carl Browning. “You won’t escape this time, rebel! Lord Darkseid will be pleased with me when I present to him your head on a pike!”

Himon smiled. “You’ve got to take it from me first, Desaad!” He darted out the chamber.

Moments later, a squad of Parademons appeared at the doorway. “After him! After him!” Desaad ordered. The squad nodded and took off. The robed man ran out of the lab after them, still shouting out orders.

Mr. Might took that as his opening and leapt down to the lab below. “Hey, buddy,” he talked to the man. “Are you awake?”

Carl Browning groaned. “…wha…who?”

“No time for that now,” the hero said. He grabbed the bonds that held the man captive to the table and gave them a quick, fast tug. The bonds snapped with ease. Carl Browning slid down, catching himself to a stand. “Are you OK?”

“I’ll…recover,” the blonde man said, propping himself up. “Where are we?”

“Hell,” Mr. Might said, pulling forth a small cube, “or as close an approximation as I ever want to come to it.” He lifted the cube and addressed it. “Uh, OK, um, Motherbox… How’s about a one-way trip back to Earth?”

The little box began to ping-ping in response. Then, there was a shimmering in the air across the room followed by a loud boom! A portal opened before the men!

“Time to go, sir,” Mr. Might said, offering his hand to the man. He wasn’t sure if this was going to work or not, but at least the portal looked like the one that had brought them here the first time.

Browning took the man’s hand and started to walk with the hero towards to opening. As he passed the table where Desaad had dropped the Angler weapon, he felt something. Something tugged at his brain, controlling him.

With shaky hand, he reached forward and grabbed the golden triangle.

Suddenly, Carl Browning’s head seemed to clear as if a fog had been lifted. He quickly shoved the weapon behind his back. As the two men stepped into the Boom Tube, Carl started to smile.
***

 

The tube opened in a stormy sky above the Seattle waterfront, the sound of the boom masked by the rolling thunder of the storm. Two figures fell through the darkened sky into the choppy water.

Mr. Might was startled by the arrival and held his breath as best he could. He then kicked his legs, pushing himself up to the water’s surface. “…coff…!” He tried to get a good lung-full of air while avoiding the intake of water too. It felt good to breath cleaner air again.

He started for the shore which was a few hundred yards away. He could see the lights in the distance. Mr. Might kicked once and again then paused. “Wait…” He turned back and bobbed in the way.

“Hey!” he yelled out above the storm. “Mister! Can you hear me?” The hero swam back to where he had hit the water and looked about. No sign of the blonde haired man.

Mr. Might took a deep breath, dove down under the waves and looked about. He could barely see in all the darkness. In his hand, the Motherbox pinged, trying to communicate to him. Hero didn’t understand or realize that.

He pushed back to the surface, took another breath and tried again. He had no better luck the second time around. Finally, he surfaced again.

“He’s gone,” Mr. Might said to himself. “Don’t know where he went. I’m sure we both made it through the tube.”

As he swam back towards shore, the young black man felt a bit dejected. All the risk, all the danger, and he couldn’t even say with any certainty the man he tried to rescue was still alive. The not knowing laid heavy on his shoulders. He wondered whether it would always be like this. He wondered if Superman had days like this.