Secret Origins

What Makes Chronos Tick?

by Martin Maenza

On the first Saturday evening in October, in the back corner of an intimate Italian restaurant in downtown San Francisco, a balding man in his late thirties with wisps of black hair about his temples and the back of his head sat waiting for his dinner companion to return to the table. The man tapped his fingers on the red and white checkered table cloth with a precise beat as if counting out the time he had been left alone.

Finally, a stunning young woman with long blonde hair and a short black dress returned to the table and sat down. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “Wine goes right through me.”

“No problem,” David Clinton replied. He glanced across the table at the woman and smiled. “Say, Doc, did I tell you that you look fantastic tonight?”

“At least three times before they served our main course,” the woman replied. “And, please, call me ‘Harleen’.” She took a sip of the wine which had been refilled since she got up to use the ladies’ room. “I must say you’re looking rather dapper yourself.”

David Clinton smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s a new suit. Picked it up recently.”

“Come into some cash recently, or was it one you took right off the rack?” Harleen Quinzel joked.

David Clinton laughed along with her but only to be polite. He knew that the woman across from him was well aware of his other identity, as the costumed criminal Chronos. In fact, Dr. Quinzel served on the support staff of the criminal organization he joined a few months back – the Secret Society of Super-Villains. He was still trying to figure the attractive woman out, as well as trying to get a bit more personal with the woman. He was pleased when she accepted his invitation to dinner the other day.

“No, I paid for it,” the man said, adjusting the cuffs on his suit jacket. “Had it tailor made.”

Harleen noticed the glint on his left wrist underneath his shirt cuff. “Is that a Rolex?” she asked.

Clinton shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “It’s one of my own. Mine run better than those Swiss ones any day.”

“I see,” the woman said, noticing the pride in the man’s face. She knew from her observations that the guy had an ego. She hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to steer the conversation into the direction she wanted. “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared either, eh?”

“Prepared?” David said. “For…?”

“Running into old enemies, seizing opportunities, the like.”

David leaned back in his chair a bit. He liked how this woman thought. “Yeah, definitely.”

Harleen leaned a bit closer, her face more full of the glow of the candle light. They had made small talk about the weather and such as they ate. She was now ready to move into the real reason she accepted his dinner invitation in the first place – to find out what made the man tick. “Tell me, David,” she said, “how’d you get into your…line of work?”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear about that,” he said.

“No,” Harleen said, reaching across the table and gently putting her hand on his. She saw the reaction in his face – a bit of surprise but a pleasant one. She smiled. “I would like to hear it. Please.” She batted her eyelashes a bit and put out her lower lip slightly. This was a technique that never failed her with men. She knew how to get what she wanted.

“Well…” David said with a bit of color in his cheek. “It was the early 1970′s and I had been serving some time for petty larceny. I was young then and a bit reckless and managed to get caught by the police.”

“Was that the first time you had committed robbery?” Harleen asked.

“No,” David said. “I was a lot younger the first time around.”

“Tell me about that,” Harleen said. Her experience in the field of psychology taught her to delve deep.

David Clinton leaned forward, lowered his voice a bit, and started to tell his tale.
***

 

I grew up in a small town about thirty miles outside of Boston. My father was a factory worker in the city, my mother worked at a local diner and took in laundry too for some extra spending money. Me, I just tried to keep out of trouble in school which was hard enough.

About the time I turned thirteen that my father was killed while on the job. Mr. Kirk, his boss, came by the house and told us in person about the accident. Dad had slipped on a catwalk and fell into a metal pressing machine. Mr. Kirk left out the gruesome details, but I read about them in the news a few days later. My mom cried for weeks.

The company tried to compensate us for our loss with some money, but it was hardly enough for us to get by for more then six months or so. Pretty soon, Mom had to put aside her grief and got back into things. She had to work even harder now that she was the sole bread winner of the family. Me, I took some part time jobs before and after school too to try and help. It was hard. I wanted to drop out of school to work full time. Mom wouldn’t hear of it.

We managed to get by, but I couldn’t help but wonder how.

One day, when I was putting some clothes away in Mom’s room, I found out how.

As a kid growing up, I remember how she had kept something special in her top dresser drawer. Every now and again, she’d open the drawer and take out a little wooden box with velvet lining. We’d sit down on the edge of the bed and she’d tell me the stories about her great-grand father who worked on the railroads.

When he retired, he was given a gold pocket watch for his many years of service. He passed it down to his son, who passed it down to Mom. And one day, she would tell me, she would pass it down to me.

Well, when I looked in the drawer that day, I found out the box and the watch were gone. So was Mom’s wedding ring and the few pieces of nice jewelry that she had gotten over the years. Where the box used to be I found a stub of paper. Wilson’s Pawn Shop.

I knew how much it had to kill her to sell that watch and the other stuff. It was one of the only things she had left to remind her of her grandfather, and here she had gone to pawn it off so we could make ends meet.

That made me angry!

I put the ticket back in the drawer and said nothing of it to her.

Over the next couple nights, I came up with an idea to get the watch and the jewelry back.

I slipped out one night late and pedaled my bike across town. I figured I could get the job done and be back in plenty of time before the papers came to be delivered. I located the shop from the address on the ticket and hid my bike in some nearby bushes.

With some tools I’d brought with me, I was able to pry open one of the side windows and slipped inside the shop. The place was dark, and I fumbled around a bit, bumping into counters and the like.

Luckily I’d thought ahead and came into the shop the day before to case the place. I used that visit to get a lay of the shop and an idea where the watch and other stuff would be kept. I also wanted to make sure it was still there, and it was. I made up some lame excuse that I was looking for old baseball cards.

I bumped into a lamp on the way over to the watch case and sent the brass stand crashing to the floor. It was pretty loud. I figured I’d better not waste any more time!

I started to work off the lock on the display case when I heard some jangling of keys.

I never realized until that exact moment that Wilson must live right over the shop!

Without thinking, I smashed the tools into the top of the case, breaking the glass. I reached in and grabbed for the watch, picking it up and a few others. I also cut my hand on the glass! I ignored the pain and the bleeding; all I could think of was that I had to get out of there!

I made for the window just as Wilson burst into the shop.
***

 

“He never saw me take off into the night,” David Clinton said.

Harleen was surprised by this. It wasn’t at all what she expected from the man. “Did you give the watch back to your mother?”

“I thought about it,” David said, “but then I realized I couldn’t. She had gone and sold it despite her pride. I didn’t know how she would take it if I told her I had discovered what she had done and went to retrieve it myself. So, I kept great-grandpa’s watch and sold off the rest of the items.”

“I see.” The woman took another sip of wine. “So, you kept at those types of activities as you got older to help make ends meet?” Harleen asked.

“Pretty much,” David said. “I tried going to trade school to pick up some skills. I was pretty good at taking things apart and rebuilding them. My teachers said I had a natural aptitude for stuff like that. But the lure of easy money was strong. Eventually though I got caught and ended up serving some time.”

“So, how did you decide to take that all to a new level?” she inquired.

David Clinton realized quickly that she was speaking of going at things as a costumed criminal. “Oh, that,” he said. “Well, as I said, I had a lot of time on my hands to do some thinking and concluded that part of my problem was in the area of planning. I noticed that things around me tended to go off without a hitch when they were planned out and executed in a timely, precise manner. I guess that’s kind of where I got the idea for my theme, if you will.”

“So you took your name for the Greek word for time and adopted a new identity?” Harleen asked but she knew this much from her research on the man.

“Yeah, pretty much,” David said. “But it wasn’t long before my activities garnered some attention…”
***

 

I had been committing some small time crimes in my new role as Chronos the Time Thief, swiping the payrolls of factories using my specially devised time-tools and the like. All the while I maintained a cover by operating a shop that specialized in the sale and repair of time pieces. When business was slow, I could work on my newest gimmicks.

From one of my customers, ironically a man named Ray Palmer who I would learn many years later was also leading a double life, I had overheard that Ivy Town University was in possession of an atomic clock. I decided that I would add that to my own special collection. That was when I first crossed paths with someone who would plague me for years, the Atom.

As anyone who has read Norm Brawler’s book that came out a few years back, Ivy Town professor Ray Palmer and the Atom were in fact one in the same. But I didn’t know that back then. It certainly made a lot of sense looking back on things.

Employing such weaponry as a specialized pocket watch modeled after great-grandfather’s, I tried to cut the Mighty Mite’s career short with spear-like clock hands and buzz saw gears. Despite their accuracy, the hero was able to evade the attacks. Luckily my special time-telling candle which fired red hot balls for fire were enough to buy me the time needed to escape.

Somehow, the Atom managed to trail me back to my shop. I had planned for that eventuality and managed to capture the hero. The Atom switched back to Palmer though and caught me off guard. Then, he switched back to the Atom again without my seeing and captured me. I still can’t believe I fell for that.

I only spent about a year in prison until I was able to figure out a plan to escape using the very watches of the prison guards to aid me.

Right after I got out, I learned that the world famous clock maker Anton Teljas had a number of his originals for sale at a public auction. Attending in disguise, I managed to get my hands on one of the pieces only to discovered an emerald hidden inside. I surmised that if one of the clocks contained such a rare stone that the other five might also yield hidden treasure.

So, donning my costume again, I went on a crime spree to acquire the others. As fate would have it, Ray Palmer knew someone who purchased one of the other ones. So, the Atom and I crossed paths once more, and he eventually put me back in prison.

I decided that I needed more than just gimmick weapons if was going to succeed in this business. By the next time I was out of jail again, I had devised a device that would paralyze a human’s sense of time for a brief period. This allowed me to commit robberies without my victims seeing me. And, again, the Atom caught on to my scheme and put me back in jail.
***

 

“The Tiny Titan and I seemed almost fated to clash time and again over the last decade,” David explained as the two walked back uptown. While he had been telling his stories, they had finished dinner and departed the restaurant. “Either alone or when we each worked with other allies, we still encountered one another.”

“Did you actively pursue him, to engage him in hopes of finally defeating him?” Harleen asked.

“What?” David blinked. “No, no.” He shook his head firmly. “Nothing like that. I’m not like those nut jobs in Gotham or the guys like Scudder in Central City. I don’t get my rocks off trying to take out some guy in a costume.”

Harleen watched him carefully as he spoke. Obviously the man was lying given the rapid movement of his eyes. It helped too that she had pulled up as much details of his criminal career as possible and reviewed it thoroughly earlier in the day. Yes, at first Chronos was in the business just for robberies, but there came a period of time that he did indeed actively try and kill the Atom. He even publicly challenged the hero once to try and stop him. She decided to push a button or two, just to see where it would lead. “I guess someone like a hero who goes around at six inches high like a doll is not much of a challenge, eh?”

David Clinton turned a bit red in the face. “You’re kidding me, right?” he said. “‘Cause if you think he’s so easy to beat because of his size…”

“It would seem that way,” Harleen said.

“The guy’s got brains,” Clinton defended himself. “Real smarts. He figured out a way to shrink himself down as small as subatomic levels. Given those unique powers and an analytical mind, it can down right difficult to devise a trap he can’t escape.”

“So he’s not so much a pushover as he would appear to be?”

“Darn right!”

Harleen was pleased. She had managed to get the man to open up to her, to tell her a bit more about his past. She couldn’t wait to get home to start transcribing the information for her files. Still, something nagged at her. She needed to know a bit more.

As they walked, she took his hand.

David was pleased by this move. He held her tapered fingers in his large, rough hands.

“So,” she said. “You decided to take up Sam’s offer and headed out here to California for a change of pace?”

“Something like that,” David said. He saw she was smiling at him, almost as if waiting for him to say more. “You know something, Harleen? You’re full of a lot of questions.”

The doctor didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, I know,” she said with a slight giggle. She found that threw men off a bit. “Just my nature, I guess. I like talking to people, asking questions to get to know them, and to listen. I’m a great listener.”

David nodded. “Uh huh,” he said. “So, maybe I should start asking about you.”

Harleen tilted her head to the side. “Not a lot to say, really,” she said. “Just a Midwest girl who spent more time in the library reading than she did hanging out with her friends. Besides…” She glanced up at the front of the building. “Looks like we’re home.”

Indeed, they had arrived at the Lowman Building, a tall building in downtown San Francisco. While the lower floors were mostly occupied by business and such, the upper floors with exclusive access served another purpose. Only a small number of people in the city and beyond knew that the upper floors were dubbed the Sinister Citadel, and housed the living quarters and working operations of the Secret Society of Super-Villains.

David frowned as they headed towards the elevator. “A shame,” he said. “I was enjoying myself and didn’t want the evening to end.”

Harleen pulled a little car out from her purse and slid it into the slot on the elevator. This enabled the access to the upper floors. She turned back to the man and leaned in closer as the lift took off. “Who said anything about the evening ending just yet?”
***

 

A few hours later, the blonde woman slipped out bed and retrieved her black dress from the floor. In the darkened room, Harleen Quinzel got herself dressed and ran her fingers through her hair to try and straighten it a bit.

As she picked up her purse, she glanced back at rumpled covers and the large lump of a figure underneath them. David Clinton was snoring big time. She shook her head silently and thought, No stamina at all. Not like I expected it though. She slipped the strap of the purse over her shoulder, picked up her shoes and walked towards the door.

She quietly let herself out, turned left and moved down the empty hallway towards her own quarters on the far end of the wing.

Harleen gasped when the muscular blonde haired Giganta turned the corner.

Giganta looked at her curiously but did not speak. The woman who had once been an ape was hardly the type to make small talk or to question the doctors slightly disheveled appearance.

Harleen just nodded and said, “Have a good night,” before continuing to her quarters.

Once inside, she locked the door behind her, dropped her shoes and put her purse on the edge of the desk. She glanced at the locked cabinet where she kept her files, moved towards them but stopped. No, she thought to herself. The notes can wait. I need a shower first.

She stepped into her bathroom, turning on the lights over the mirror. It wasn’t as stocked as her apartment across town, but it would meet the needs. She looked in the mirror and caught sight of her own reflection.

She shook her head.

“Very professional, Harleen,” she said to herself. Then she shrugged her shoulders. “Sometimes its a dirty job.” At least she could comfort herself in knowing that there was a payoff at the end of the road. She only had to string the man along until she gathered the information she needed. After that, she would just discard him like she had so many others before.