Secret Origins: The Huntress and the Sportsmaster
The Games People Play
by Martin Maenza
(with nods to Bob Rozakis and Elliot S! Maggin)
In a small suburban community in upstate New York about an hour and a half north of the city, a gray sports car slowly drove up one particular street. The man behind the wheel of the vehicle was its owner. He was in his late twenties with dark brown hair; he wore a dark blue suit, a light blue dress shirt, and a red and blue striped tie. “I really appreciate you doing this for me, ” he said.
Seated in the passenger seat was a beautiful young woman with blonde hair tied back in a bun. She wore dark, wire framed eyeglasses, a brown tailored blazer and skirt outfit with a taupe blouse. “I still don’t know how you talked me into this, James,” she said.
“Oh, come on now, Harl,” James Dillin replied. “You’ve been out in California so long that I knew you’d jump at the chance for a free trip to New York in exchange for a favor.”
“Hah,” Harleen Quinzel laughed. “When you proposed this little idea to me, I thought it was a first class offer all the way. The seat you got me for the flight here wasn’t what I’d call luxurious.”
“Sorry about that,” James admitted. “I’ll see if I can get you an upgrade for your return flight. How’s about I make it up to you tonight? We’ll go out for French, my treat. You still like French, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” she replied. “But don’t think a fancy dinner will make up for this situation you’ve put me in.”
The car stopped in front of an A-frame home with a stone face on the lower portion and large windows in the upper white painted portion. A long walk wound through tall pine trees to the front door. “I read you loud and clear,” James said. “Thanks for helping me out on this one. From the day we met back in medical school, I always knew you’d be the kind of person I could count on in a tight situation.”
Harleen Quinzel started to open the door of the vehicle to step out. “You just remember that, Jimmy-boy,” she said playfully. “You’ll owe me a favor.”
“Promise,” James said as she closed the door. The window was still down on the passenger side. “I’m sure you’re the right woman for the job. Just give me a buzz when you’re finished, and I’ll come pick you up.” He shifted the car into drive.
“I don’t know,” Harleen said as she started to lean in towards the window. “You know I’m a criminal psychologist and not …”
James pulled off in a hurry before she could finish her last statement.
“…a marriage counselor,” she said to herself. Harleen Quinzel shook her head, adjusted the small briefcase under her arm and marched up the walk as best she could in her high heeled shoes.
Harleen glanced at the other houses nearby as she made her way up the walk. “Hmm,” she said to herself quietly. Most of the homes on this street were large in size with well-kept landscaped lawns. “Who says crime doesn’t pay?” She approached the front door and gave the bell a single ring. Inside, she thought she heard a loud crash and some muffled voices. This concerned her.
She was about to step over to the curtain drawn window to see if she could peek inside when the door suddenly flew open. A woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder length, wavy black hair and deep green eyes answered the door. She wore a black skirt and a pink top with animal print stripes. “Oh, hello,” the woman said. “You’re early.”
“Sorry about that,” Harleen started to apologize as she stepped towards the archway.
“Down!” the woman yelled, grabbing the blonde by the shoulder and forcing her to the floor in the doorway. Suddenly, a bowling pin shaped object whizzed over their heads. It would have hit them squarely in the skull had they been a second slower.
“You beer swilling, uncouth swine!” the woman shrieked as she sprang to her feet. She dove for a wooden decorative chair near the front door, swung it in front of her and charged across the room with it, legs first. “Can’t you see we’ve got company!”
She lunged a man of similar age with short red hair. His face was long and chiseled, and he wore a white polo shirt and khaki pants. “Sorry,” he said to the newcomer. “That projectile pin was meant for my numb skull wife here!” He lunged for a trophy that hung on the living room wall, using it to defend himself against the chair his wife wielded. “Back off, baby, or I’ll have to stab you with this swordfish! Then maybe I can have you stuffed and mounted like it!”
“In your dreams, tiger!” the woman replied as she forced him back against the wall like a cornered animal.
“Every night, girl,” he retorted, “every night!” He banged the point of the fish at the wooden seat, trying to knock it away.
Dr. Harleen Quinzel sighed. And here she thought she’d be taking a break from the lunacy at the Sinister Citadel. Now she had to deal with these two! She figured she’d best break it up; the sooner they started the sooner she could get out of this madhouse.
Harleen slammed the front door. “Excuse me!” she shouted, loud enough to get the attention of the two combatants. “Dr. James Dillin asked me here to talk to you two, not to referee a death match! So, if you want my help, can you two call a temporary truce?”
The couple looked at one another, then back at their guest.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the woman asked with an out-of-place sweetness in her voice. “Coffee, tea?”
“Or me?” the man added with a predatory grin. His wife smacked him hard in the shoulder. “Oww!”
***
Dr. Harleen Quinzel and the woman sat on opposite ends of a leather sofa. The man sat in matching recliner across the way.
The psychologist had her note pad out and was taking down information in her special short hand notation. “So,” she said. “Let me make sure I have down the basics. You’re Paula Brooks, kept your maiden name.” The dark haired woman nodded. “And you go by the first name of ‘Crusher’, right Mr. Crock?”
“Just Crusher,” he said. “No need to be so formal, toots.”
“Right,” Harleen said flatly. “And together, you two collectively go by the reputation of Mr. and Mrs. Menace, the Huntress and the Sportsmaster.”
“Guilty as charged, my dear,” Paula Brooks replied.
Harleen folded her hands before her. “Look, I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “I really don’t know that much about you two. I’ve been involved in the criminal psychology arena for the last four or five years now, and I haven’t once run across you two even in readings. Why’s that?”
“That would be my wife’s fault,” Crusher said. “Seems I can’t convince her to pull any jobs anymore. Been like that for the last year or so! I tell you, this keeps up, and I’m going solo!”
“You wouldn’t last two seconds without me, you lout!” Paula said as she bolted to her feet.
“Yeah?” Crusher said as he slammed the recliner forward and stood as well. “Care to bet on that, sweetie? Or are you chicken? Bwak bwak bwak!” He put his hands under his armpits with his elbows out, gesturing like a bird.
“I’ll gut you here and now, you turkey!” Paula snarled.
“Stop!” Harleen said, putting herself between the couple. She held her arms out to get them both to back off. “We won’t get anywhere with you two fighting, Now, calm down.” The couple each glared at one another before sitting back down.
Harleen took a deep breath, straightened her skirt and sat back down. “OK, then,” she said. “Now, would one of you care to tell me about the last time you did go about in your costumed roles?”
“Well, there was that time last year that Star Sapphire recruited us and a bunch of others in a team called the Forgotten Villains,” Crusher explained.
“Forgotten is right!” Paula said. “We barely were together for a few hours before we ran afoul of Captain Comet and a bunch of third string heroes.”
“Star Sapphire, Captain Comet,” Harleen repeated. “Interesting.” She made a mental note to discuss it in session with Sapphire when she got around to her. She recalled that Sapphire and Comet had a bit of a past, one that bore exploring in more detail. “So, I take it that didn’t work out.”
“No way,” Crusher said. “It was over faster an Olympic 100 meter track event. But at least my wife managed to keep us from being incarcerated, right kitten?” He shot her a wink.
Paula smiled and blew him an air kiss in return. “I learned early in life to always be prepared,” she said. “So I kept some knockout pellets handy. A couple of those at the police station, and we were born free again.”
“I see,” Harleen said. “So, how about the time before that then?”
“That would be during the Crisis,” Crusher said.
***
(flashback to August of 1985)
The world known as Earth-X had quickly been taken over by lush, jungle like vegetation thanks to the work of Poison Ivy, Jason Woodrue and others. The heroes of that world, the Freedom Fighters and their allies, had been tracked down and trussed up per the orders of their archenemy, the Silver Ghost. The rest of the villains who had been recruited to take over this world were enjoying the spoils of victory. That is, they were until a squad of heroes from Earth-1 and Earth-2 decided to break up the party.
From the roof of a shelter in the small park where they’d been stationed, the couple watched as the red haired woman in blue and purple was fighting in vain against a gaseous cloud with a face across the way. The man wore a baseball jersey with the number 01 on back and a loose white mask that draped his face from his eyes down past his chin. The woman wore her usual yellow tiger skin outfit with cape.
“Damn!” the Sportsmaster said. “Looks like this game’s gone into extra innings!”
“Perhaps we should help Syonide,” the Huntress replied. “Her poisonous weapons seem no match for Metamorpho’s freakish form.”
“I think you’ve got other things to worry about,” a child’s voice said.
When the Sportsmaster turned to see the source of it, a green booted foot slammed him in the face. The villain fell down, angry he was caught off guard. When he turned to see who attacked him, he had to laugh. Before him was a young lad with black hair. The youth wore a black domino mask, a red tunic with green sleeves and shorts, and a yellow cape. The villain didn’t need the telltale R-logo on the tunic chest to know whom he faced.
“Well, well, well,” the Sportsmaster said. “Looks like someone’s been shrunk! This must be that little league replacement Robin!”
“I may be small, but I’m more than capable to take out the likes of you,” the Boy Wonder replied as he hurled a batarang at the villain.
The Sportsmaster whipped up an aluminum bat from near his feet, knocking the projectile away. “Not bad, kid,” the villain sneered. “But not good enough either. Now hold still while I go for a home run on your skull!” He whipped the bat back then swung it through.
Robin instinctively leapt out of the way with acrobatic ease. “You’re slow, you old coot,” he quipped.
“Get back here, you!” the Sportsmaster said as he raised the bat once more. “I’ll show you!” Suddenly, a small metal bolt struck his left hand, its sharp point digging into his flesh. The bat fell to the ground. “Owww! Damn it!” He glanced at the projectile that had drawn blood. He was familiar with the make, having seen them around his home often enough.
He spun his head around towards his partner. “What’d you do that for, baby?” the Sportsmaster asked his wife. “You getting all ‘fair play’ on me again, are you?”
“I didn’t do anything!” the Huntress exclaimed in self defense.
“She’s right,” a female voice said from a large tree branch above. “I did it!”
Robin looked up to see a young woman with long black hair dressed in a costume of purple. He recognized his rescuer in an instant from some files his mentor kept in the Batcave. “Huntress!” he exclaimed. “Thanks for the helping hand.”
“No problem, kid,” the heroine from Earth-2 said. “The Batman family has to stick together.”
“Huntress?” the villainess in stripes exclaimed. “How dare you take my name, you witch? I’ll kill you where you’re perched!” The woman hurled a pair of daggers at the heroine.
The daughter of Earth-2′s Batman easily avoided the attack as she leapt to the roof. “Honey, I’ve got news for you! You weren’t the first to have that name. So if anyone’s a wannabe here, its you!” The two heroes continued their attack on Mr. and Mrs. Menace.
***
“Right,” Dr. Harleen Quinzel said as she wrote on her notepad. “I remember hearing about this so called ‘villain war’. It happened when Brainiac and Lex Luthor tried to take over a number of various parallel Earths.” She glanced over at the couple. “So, I take it this other Huntress and this younger Robin bested you two in combat.”
Crusher Crock glanced away. Paula got an angry look in her eyes just thinking about that other woman.
“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Dr. Quinzel said. “So, Luthor managed to entice you two back into costume as part of his conquering armies?”
“Yeah, he did,” Crusher said. “We’d met Luthor a number of years before. He helped us out with a little something, so we agreed to return the favor.”
“I see,” Harleen said. “How exactly did you meet up with him the first time?”
“That was all thanks to his hair brained idea!” Paula said.
“My idea?” Crusher exclaimed. “Who was the reason behind it anyway? I seem to recall it was thanks to you and that tired old refrain you’re constantly throwing up at me.”
“And I was right!” Paula boasted. “You were wrong, admit it!”
“Your side got a lucky break is all!” Crusher said.
“Lucky my eye!” Paula retorted. “Your side cheated!”
“Yours did too!”
“But you started it!”
“Will somebody please,” Harleen said in a loud voice, “tell me about that! Without so much yelling, if you can.”
“It actually started out right here in this room,” Paula said.
***
(flashback to October of 1981)
The couple had been fighting, as usual. “Super-villains never win!” the Huntress insisted. “No matter how you stack the cards, the good guys always beat them!”
“So you’re going to give up your life of crime to become a super-heroine?” Sportsmaster squawked. “Over my dead body!” His wife hurled a chair at him; he barely ducked in time. He could tell she actually meant to try and hurt him. “Honey, don’t get so violent! Give me a sporting chance to prove I’m right! Let me show you we bad guys can win!”
The Huntress paused. “Just what do you have in mind?”
Sportsmaster put his arm about his wife. “A friendly baseball game,” he said. “We’ll each pick teams. If your team wins, you switch to being a crime fighter; if mine comes out ahead, and I’m sure it will, you stick with me!”
And with that, the criminal couple set about to hijacking nine heroes and nine villains, assembling them at Crandall Stadium in upstate New York. To add to the incentive of the participants, particularly the heroes, the Huntress lured over 66,000 civilians to the stadium to see the game. The simple brainwashing of the crowd would keep them there until the scoreboard showed the ball game was over. All they had to do was play the game, and neither side was allowed to use their super-abilities. The heroes reluctantly agreed to the game. Each team chose one of their own to serve as umpires. Uncle Sam was chosen because of his honesty and trustworthiness. Amazo was tagged by the villains because, as an android, he would have to call them as he saw them.
So, the Huntress led the team of heroes consisting of Wonder Woman, Robin, Kid Flash, Batman, Green Arrow, Plastic Man, Black Canary and Superman. The Sportsmaster’s line up included Dr. Polaris, the Tattooed Man, Felix Faust, Lex Luthor, the Weather Wizard, the Joker, Chronos and Matter Master. Once the equipment was distributed, Uncle Sam called out “play ball!”
The game progressed fairly straight forward for the first eight innings, leaving the game tied at eight apiece by that point. In the villains’ dugout, the Sportsmaster tried to rally his team. “The heroes are up to bat first,” he said. “We’ve got to win! I don’t care what you do, or how you do it, just don’t let them score!”
“We promised not to use our powers,” the Tattooed Man reminded him. “You saying we should cheat? I been waiting all afternoon for this!” The other men on the team nodded in agreement.
Sportsmaster took the mound and threw one of his curve balls. Black Canary still managed to get a piece of it, knocking it towards the short stop. Tattooed Man touched a glove tattoo he had added to his right arm special for the game, launching the mitt high into the air to catch the ball. It blocked the hit’s progress but fell to the ground and dropped the ball. “You dummy!” Matter Master shouted from second base as Black Canary headed for second. “Your tattoo-glove caught the ball, but you didn’t catch the glove!”
Undaunted, the Sportsmaster had a plan to keep the heroes from scoring. His next pitch nailed the next batter in the head. Unfortunately, that batter was Superman, and the villain nearly got beaned by his own pitch; the Man of Steel took his base. Wonder Woman was next to bat and connected after two strikes, knocking a single towards right field that Chronos could not catch before it bounced. Bases were loaded.
Sportsmaster then struck Robin out one, two, three. Kid Flash managed to connect with a grounder to short. Tattooed Man, deciding to forgo anymore gimmicks, threw out Black Canary at home plate. “Tag, you’re it, pretty bird! Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the Joker, the catcher.
“Now we’re clicking!” Sportsmaster said. “One more out and this game is ours!” Batman was next to bat. After three balls and one strike, the Caped Crusader managed to connect but only for a foul ball. The final pitch was another ball, forcing a walk and bringing in Superman as the run.
“We’re ahead by one, GA!” Superman said. “See if you can drive some insurance runs across the plate!”
“Leave the driving to me, Supes!” the Emerald Archer replied. On the first pitch, Green Arrow hit a long single to right field, knocking home Wonder Woman and Kid Flash. “Hoo-ha! How’s that Sportsy? 11 to 8!” As he started to round first base, he was too busy taunting the pitcher to notice Felix Faust casting a spell. The evil sorcerer took the ball from Chronos’ hands to his own and tagged the unsuspecting Green Arrow. With that, the heroes took the field for the bottom of the ninth.
Superman tried his best to pitch the ball across the plate, but a special bat designed by Luthor emitted vibrations that kept the orb from doing so. With four balls, the bald scientist took his base confidently. “Better luck next time, Supes,” Luthor taunted.
The Weather Wizard was up next, hitting a chopper to second base. As he ran towards first, he whipped out his weather wand to kick up a mini-blizzard to keep Wonder Woman busy. The Amazon retaliated by using her lasso to fan away the snow from her eyes and, in doing so, kept the base hidden from Luthor as well. Kid Flash recovered the ball and tagged Luthor out.
The Joker bunted one towards third base. Chronos then got a hit and used his special devices in his costume to speed up time for his teammates while slowing it down for the heroes. “We’ll all be safe,” he chuckled as he sauntered towards first.
Kid Flash managed to recognize the time shift and was the only one capable at doing something about it. Pushing himself to the extreme, he managed to tag Chronos out at first with barely inches to spare. “I’ll take that,” he said, snatching the device from Chronos and turning it off. This returned everyone’s speed to normal, but still left villains on second and third.
Matter Master was up next and dropped his bat in favor of his Metachem Rod. “Here goes a long fly ball,” he said with a flick of the wrist. Suddenly the ball grew wings and began to take flight.
“OK, clownie,” Green Arrow said as he pulled his bow and an arrow from his quiver, “if you want to play this way, so will I!” The arrow managed to stop the ball from leaving the arena, keeping it down to only one villain scoring.
Sportsmaster was the last up at bat, and he slugged a long fly to deep center field over his wife’s head. Black Canary scurried after it. “Hah!” he laughed as he confidently rounded first base and raced for second. “This one’s in the bag!” He stood proudly at second, scoring a standup double. The Joker had crossed home plate, and Matter Master was safe at third. “Another run in! We’re only one behind!”
Plastic Man stretched his arm from first to second, tagging the villains’ captain with the ball. “Sorry, pal,” the hero said. “You didn’t tag first base, so I’m tagging you out.”
Sportsmaster got up into his face. “Yes, I did!” he shouted. “I made sure I did! I felt it!”
Plastic Man grinned widely. “Wrong, that was my foot. Ask the umpire.”
Amazo approached and looked down near first base. Sure enough, the pliable hero’s foot was still planted before the base in a similar square shape. “He’s right,” the android announced. “He tricked you in a grandly villainous manner. You’re out!”
The Sportsmaster was about to protest, but the game was over. The final score stood: heroes 11 and villains 10. As promised, the entranced crowd rose from their seats and filed out of the stadium as silently as they had entered. And the players that had been drafted for the two teams also vanished as easily as they had been abducted. That left only two people.
“Well, big shot!” the Huntress said. “I told you the heroes would win, even with all those dirty tricks your side pulled!” The Sportsmaster could do little to argue with his spouse on that count.
***
“Well,” Dr. Harleen Quinzel said. “That has got to be the strangest sports story I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah?” asked Crusher Crock. “I know of a few others that might qualify, if you can actually find them believable.”
“Shut up, you!” Paula ordered her husband. “No one wants to hear about a faceless basketball team or planetary pole-vaulting!”
Harleen was recognizing a pattern. The couple was just about to break out into yet another argument. She decided to head this one off. “Say, do you often use competitions to settle your differences?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve only known you both for an hour or so, and I can tell you’re both highly competitive people. Has it always been like that between you two?”
“Well, yeah, sure,” Crusher admitted after a moment. “Now that you mention it, we do compete an awful lot.”
“One of us tends to enjoy it a bit more,” Paula said, gesturing towards her husband.
“Hey!” Crock said. “Sometimes I let others do the competing for us! Remember that time back in Mexico with Batgirl and Robin?”
“How could I forget?” Paula said. “We lost a fortune thanks to that double-crossing Dynamite Duo!”
“Can I hear about that please?” Harleen asked.
“Of course,” Paula said. And she launched into the story.
***
(flashback to April of 1981)
Near a group of Aztec, pyramid shaped ruins in an isolated valley in the lush jungles of Mexico, the heroic duo of Batgirl and Robin found themselves as reluctant competitors in a series of challenges. The Huntress had ensnared the Dominoed Daredoll in an elaborate trap in Washington, DC, and abducted the woman. The Teen Wonder had followed the clues only to find airline tickets to Hidalgo, Mexico. He was forced to take that flight if he wanted to see Batgirl again. After stopping a hijacker who was working for the villains, Robin parachuted down to where the plane was going to forced to land. Another trap, and he too awoke in a large arena.
The Sportsmaster, dressed in a purple fencing outfit with mask, stood on a large flying platform with his wife by his side. “The bands on your wrists are explosives,” he explained, “which I will detonate the moment one of you scores thirteen points or more! However, only the winner will be blown up!” The first of the gladiatorial games was an ancient chariot race, where the winner would be awarded six points.
At the opening gun shot, Robin and Batgirl both charged their team of horses forward. Despite not knowing why the villains had chosen them for their amusement, he was bound and determined to protect his occasional partner in crime fighting. I better make sure I reach thirteen points, he thought, even if I have to cheat! Using a trick he’d seen in an old movie, the sharp axle of his wheel splintered the spokes of those on Batgirl’s wheel. Just as he’d hoped, the heroine leapt to safety before her chariot careened out of control.
“Six points for Robin!” the Sportsmaster announced.
The next competition was archery. So far, the pair was evenly matched as they shot arrow for arrow at red and white targets down the field. It was time for their fourth and final shafts. There’s just the glimmer of a chance I’ll be able to hit Robin’s arrow away with my own, Batgirl thought. Indeed, her own arrow collided with his, causing his to veer off course.
Batgirl’s arrow meanwhile bound right back towards her target. “Six points for Batgirl!” the Huntress said.
“Nice shooting there, Red,” Robin said. “You been seeing Speedy on the side?”
“Not likely,” Batgirl said with a smile, trying to cut down the tenseness of the situation.
There next competition was fencing. Both heroes were equally matched in use of the foil, and the competition proceeded without either scoring a point on one another. The Huntress leaned into her husband and whispered, “I think they’re trying to stall for time.”
“Agreed,” he nodded. The Sportsmaster turned to the competitors and said, “you’ve fenced to a standstill. Three points for each of you! That leaves you tied at nine apiece, but you cannot tie on the final event which starts at the apex of this pyramid!” He gestured towards the stone steps, and the heroes complied to the direction.
“I’ve… uh… placed a worthless bauble, a shiny red trinket, at the bottom of this tunnel through the pyramid,” the Sportsmaster lied as the heroes looked down the dark square opening in the floor. “The one who uses gymnastic skills to bring it back first has won and saved the other’s life!” Without another word, the two heroes dove into the darkened, sixty foot deep pit.
“See,” the Sportsmaster said, “I knew we could trick those saps into retrieving the ruby for us! You’re always shooting down my ideas without giving them a chance!”
“I hope you’re right,” the Huntress replied. “If you’re not, I’ll personally throw you down that hole myself!” A few minutes later, a lone batarang with a rope attached flew up out of the hole and wrapped around a nearby post. “Now to see how our pawns did!” The Teen Wonder emerged from the opening, the large ruby in hand.
“Congratulations, Robin,” the Sportsmaster said. “Now roll that rock down the pyramid and take your medicine!”
“So you can sell this ‘worthless bauble’ and destroy the evidence?” he asked. “Dream on!” He held the rock over the pit. “You blow that wrist explosive, and this rock goes back from where it came!”
The Huntress snarled. “He knows! He figured out we couldn’t get the Camay without their athletic skill!” She leapt off the platform towards the prize. “Now I’ll end this harebrained scheme of yours the right way, you…”
Before the Huntress could reach the ground, Batgirl flipped out of the pit and tackled her. “Don’t call your husband names with Robin around,” the heroine said. “His delicate ears can’t take it.”
Robin meanwhile tried to pitch the ruby at the explosive gizmo that the Sportsmaster held in his hands, hoping to eliminate that option. Using a jai-alai scoop, the villain tried to catch the rock instead but fell short. Batgirl pushed the Huntress aside as they tumbled down the stone steps, did a dive out to catch the falling ruby, and executed a perfect flip to land on her feet. She tossed the ruby to Robin who dodged as the Sportsmaster whizzed past him on the flying platform. He then tossed the ruby gently to the grassy ground.
Both villains, now on the ground as well, dove after the bouncing bauble. Focusing only now on the priceless red rock ambling across the grass, all they felt was their greed and all they thought about was their triumph.
At the last second, before either could touch the stone, both were cut short of the prize by well thrown ropes. With his hands tied, the Sportsmaster quickly fell to Robin’s punch to the jaw. With her feet already ensnared, the Huntress was easily trussed up like a prize steer at the rodeo by Batgirl.
***
“I see,” Dr. Harleen Quinzel said. “Was that when you started in on your costumed crime careers?”
“We’d been active as the Huntress and Sportsmaster for a few years prior to that,” Paula explained. “We tended to travel around quite a bit, committing crimes in various countries. We avoided the costumed heroes when we could help it.”
“Back to your ball game for a second,” Harleen said. “Since your husband lost the bet, did you give up crime and switch to the side of angels?”
Paula was about to answer when Crusher interjected. “She considered it, but I talked her out of it! If she’d done that, it would’a compromised our marriage entirely. Then I would’a had to kill her!”
“OK,” Harleen said, jotting down some notes. “So, how did you come up with those two particular identities then?”
Crusher let out a short burst of a laugh. “Hah,” he said. “This might be hard to believe, but we took the names from some comic books.”
“Comic books?” Harleen asked. “How so?”
“Well, it goes back to when we were kids,” Paula started to explain.
***
(flashback to the summer of 1965)
In a small makeshift fort consisting of three varying sides of plywood nailed to a couple trees with a partially open roof, a trio of children chatted loudly on this sunny, warm day.
“I got some new baseball cards the other day,” the red haired youth said as he pulled a pile of colorful cardboard from his back pocket. “I only need a couple more to complete my Metros line up. Anyone wanna trade?”
The brunette haired girl dove across the ground, kicking up dirt, as she cupped her hands over something that had moved near the bushes. “Gotcha!” she said as she brought her hands together. “Wanna see?” She opened her hands enough to show the boys the small lizard she’d just caught.
“Eeww,” said the brown haired boy as he recoiled back. A small key from his front pocket fell into the dirt thanks to his squirming.
“You and your pets,” the red haired boy sneered. “What is it with you?”
The girl got a wicked look in her eye. “Here!” she said as she tossed the captive reptile into the air.
It landed in the red haired boys long, wavy hair. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Watch it!” He started to flail his hands about his head to get the creature off of him.
The girl laughed loudly. “You should see how stupid you look! Ha ha ha!” She noticed the key that the other boy had dropped and scooped it up, pocketing it quickly. Neither boy saw her do it. The brown haired boy rustled through his worn backpack. “Say, Timmy! What’cha got there?”
“Oh, nothing,” Timmy Thomas said defensively.
“Well, let me see nothing!” the girl said as she snatched the bag. She opened the zipper wide to reveal the contents. “Comic books? Big whoop!”
“Who wants to spend summer vacation reading?” the red haired boy said.
“These aren’t just any comics,” Timmy said as he snatched his bag back. He pulled out a couple of the books that were a bit worn, their spines bent from many readings and the covers slightly dog-eared in the corners. “They’re old ones. Got ‘em from my aunt. They belonged to my cousin Roy. She was gonna throw them out but gave them to me instead. I thought it might be fun to play out some of the stories in these.”
The girl looked at one of the titles – Sensation Comics. “I don’t want to be Wonder Woman,” she stated.
Timmy flipped the book open to one of the secondary stories. “That’s fine,” he said. “We could play out this one here. I could be Wildcat, and you could be his enemy the Huntress. See?” The girl let out an interested ‘hmmm’ as she glanced at the pages.
“So who do I get to be?” the red haired boy asked.
“You could be Starman or somebody like that,” Timmy said. “Or maybe a henchman.”
The red haired boy grabbed one of the other books, one titled All-American Comics. “Nah, I wanna be someone cool!” he said. He flipped through the pages of a Green Lantern story. “There!” He pointed to one of the panels. “I wanna be this guy – the Sportsmaster!”
And so, for the rest of the day and the next few, the three older children acted out various scenarios as characters from the comics.
***
“I see,” Dr. Harleen Quinzel said. She noted to herself that role-playing was a normal activity that children often engaged in, and that sometimes what children envisioned themselves doing as a child later manifested itself in their career choices as grown ups. “I can see that. But tell me, what happened to this Timmy Thomas? Did you all continue to go through school together?”
Crusher turned to his wife, and their facial expressions seemed to carry on a silent conversation all their own. Finally, Crusher nodded to her and turned to the psychologist. “Well, as we grew older, the three of us grew apart,” he said. “By the time we all got to high school, the two of us were hanging in a different crowd than Timmy.”
“I’d like to hear more about that,” Harleen said.
Crusher continued the tale.
***
(flashback to June of 1972)
The three close friends eventually grew apart as they got older. The red haired guy became a jock in school; he excelled in cross country track in the Fall, basketball in the Winter, and baseball in the Spring. The girl was athletic as well, mastering acrobatics in junior high and then captaining the cheerleaders’ squad in high school.
Timmy Thomas, however, was much more introverted and preferred academic clubs to sports. That made the scrawny teen a target. “Hey!” Timmy said as his books fell to the ground. “Quit it!”
Biff Tanner laughed. The rest of his varsity jacketed wearing friends laughed too as they stood around the geeky boy on the ground picking up his books. “Oooo, I’m so scared,” Biff said. “What’cha gonna do about it?” The other jocks cheered Biff on.
Timmy dropped his head and said nothing.
“Missed one!” Biff said as he kicked one of the texts across the parking lot. The others laughed and then left the poor boy as they headed for their cars. A familiar couple sat on the hood of a car, making out. “Say, there’s the love birds.”
The red haired jock stopped kissing the brunette head cheerleader. “What’s shaking, Biff?” he asked.
“Just the daily nerd herding,” Biff replied. “Gotta keep the freaks in line until graduation. Gotta show them what the real world will be like, right?” He thrust up his hand for a high five.
“I heard that,” the red head said, returning the gesture with a loud slap. “We’re about to hit the road anyway. You gonna hang out tonight?”
“Definitely,” Biff said.
“Cool,” the red head said. “We’ll see you then.” The couple hopped in the guy’s car, and they drove off.
She pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it. “You know what I love about you, tiger,” she purred in his ear as he drove. “When you’re around those guys, you just reek of macho testosterone.”
“You like that, don’tcha baby?” He snatched the cigarette from her hand and took a drag. She was about to protest when he handed it back to her. He turned down the street to where he lived. “We got some time to kill before my folks get home to, you know.” He pulled the car to a stop in front of his house and got out.
“Oh, you think I’m that easy,” she said as she joined him.
“You know it!” he said, stopping at the mailbox to grab the day’s mail. As he thumbed through the pile, he stopped suddenly at one envelope. He dropped everything else and tore into it. His facial expression fell as he glanced at the contents.
“What is it?” she asked. He shoved the paper in her face, allowing her to read it. “A draft notice?”
“Damn!” the teen said as he kicked at the tires of his car.
“Says you don’t have to report for thirty days,” she said. “That’s after graduation.”
“Screw that!” he said. “I ain’t going!” They headed for the house. “We were plannin’ to blow town after we graduated anyway, so now our destination changes is all! We can go to Canada for a bit!”
“And what’ll we do for money, Einstein?” she asked.
The red head got a gleam in his eye. “I have an idea.”
About a week later, just after ten at night, a pair of figures moved in the shadows of a backyard towards the door of a residence in town. The larger of the two was about to break the window when the smaller stopped his hand. Instead, she reached into her coat and pulled out an old key she’d kept all these years. It actually would come in handy this night.
The two slipped inside the home. In no time, they made their way upstairs in the darkened house to the master bedroom. There they’d go for things they could pawn quickly like jewelry and such. “Told you this would be easy,” the male said softly. “Their car has been gone for the last couple days. We’ll be in and out in no time.”
Suddenly, from the darkened bedroom, the couple saw a light come on downstairs. The glow shone up the stairwell. “Great,” the female cursed quietly. “Someone’s home, and we’re trapped!”
“Not yet we’re not!” the male said. “Quick, get a sheet from the bed! I’ve got an idea.” With the sack of items they were stealing in one hand, he went for the closet where a set of golf clubs were kept. He grabbed a three iron just in case.
The shadow of a figure could be seen coming up the stairwell. The woman threw the sheet down upon the person, blocking his vision. As he started to protest and struggle with the sheet, the red haired male bound down the steps and smacked the covered person with the golf club. The person tumbled backwards down the stairs, the sheet wrapped between his legs, and his body fell hard in the foyer. It was silent.
The couple hurried down the stairs, only to notice the sheet had fallen away. Timmy Thomas lay dead on the floor, the back of his head bleeding red. “Oh my God!” the dark haired woman said. “We killed him!”
Her boyfriend grabbed her arm. “Forget it!” he said. “We gotta grab the silver and trash some stuff! Make it look like a break in!” He emptied the drawers from the china cabinet into the sack. The woman still stood staring at the body. He had to grab her hand when he was finished. “C’mon! Let’s go!” He dragged her towards the back door and pushed her out.
With the golf club, he smashed the window on the door to make it appear that the house was broken into. The police would assume Timmy surprised the burglars and was killed. If the two kept their mouths shut for a few more days, they’d be able to skip town right after graduation with no turning back.
The young woman was still in shock, a few days later, as their car waited in line at the Peace Bridge. Her boyfriend poked her. “Hey, focus, honey,” he said. “We’ve got to be cool for a few more minutes, and then we’re home free. You got your fake name down right?”
She nodded. “Paula Brooks,” she said numbly.
“That a girl,” he said. He pulled out his own new identification, a fake driver’s license he had made up right after he got his draft notice. His said Charles Crock. The irony of the situation struck him, given the incident with Timmy Thomas a few nights back. The fake names had come to him from when they had been reading comics as kids. They must have stuck in his mind for a reason. He grinned. Something good did come from reading those books after all.
***
Dr. Harleen Quinzel finished her notes and called James Dillin to come pick her up. She didn’t want to have to be waiting around with the Crocks too long after she delivered to them her conclusions. She wasn’t sure how they would be received.
Eventually, she returned to the living room where the couple was waiting. Crusher and Paula were sitting on the couch together, so Harleen took a seat in the chair. “First, I want to thank you for your time,” the psychiatrist said. “Willingness to talk to someone, especially a complete stranger, is a good sign.”
“So what’s the final tally, Doc?” Crusher asked. “You think our marriage is headed for the hall of fame or what?”
Dr. Quinzel took off her glasses and rubbed them with a handkerchief from her pocket. “As I mentioned when I arrived earlier this afternoon, I’m not a marriage counselor,” she said as she replaced the spectacles on her face. “However, I’ve known a number of folks personally who have gone through marriage counseling. I also know how to read people, from my psychological background and years of case study.”
“We understand,” Paula said. “Please go on.”
“Thank you,” Harleen said. “Couples often seek counseling when they feel misunderstood, frustrated or deeply hurt. Others seek it when they feel a profound sense of sadness in their relationship. Marriages aren’t always going to be blissful. There is often conflict that requires open communication to solve problems and remove obstacles.
“Any marriage counselor will tell you that the foundations of marriage include trust, common interests and a willingness to put the needs of your spouse over your own. Without a solid foundation, couples will flounder, stumble and fall. Arguments will increase and conflicts become more difficult to resolve. Its not impossible to rectify the situation, but the couple needs to be willing to fix things.
“From what I’ve seen today, in talking with the both of you and observing your interactions with one another, I can see that the two of you have some major issues with one another. I don’t know how much of the things I mentioned that you two have or had before, but in my observations it seems that the two have you may have lost some of those along the way.
“Your interactions with one another, in how you speak in words and actions, seem to be filled mostly with aggression and frustration. Your goals at times seem more self-focused; you don’t seem to function fully as a common unit for a common goal. If you truly want to make this marriage work, you need to resolve some of these things. Talk them out, calmly and rationally. Open communication is critical.
“If you don’t want to work for it, you might as well just split up permanently.” Harleen reached for her briefcase near the chair. “I think I should go now so you two can talk.”
Harleen quickly rose and headed for the front door. Surprisingly, the Crocks sat on the couch silently, no doubt letting the words she had just spoken sink in. That was a good sign. Given how they acted all day, she hadn’t truly expected this kind of response. Perhaps this was the wake up call that they needed.
Harleen stepped out the front door and closed it behind her. She started down the walk to where James would pick her up in a few minutes. The sun was about to set, the sky taking on a slight reddish hue.
She turned back briefly when she heard the muffled sound of yelling voices from the house. Harleen shook her head. Well, she tried. That’s all she promised to do.
A few minutes later, as Harleen still waited, Paula Brooks came out the side entrance of the house and hurried down the driveway. She kept glancing back to see if she was being watched from the house; she was not. “Dr. Quinzel,” she called softly as she neared the street.
Harleen turned. “What is it? Did I forget something?”
“No,” Paula said. “I did.” James’ car rounded the corner and slowly approached the house. Paula knew she didn’t have time to waste. “I didn’t say anything inside earlier, but I just found out I’m pregnant. Seven weeks.”
Harleen’s eyes grew wide at the revelation. “Does Crusher…?”
“No,” Paula said. “He doesn’t know yet. I haven’t told him. That’s why I wanted to speak to someone, to see if maybe we could get some help.”
Harleen gave her a brief hug. “I think you made the right decision,” she said. “You can’t bring a child into a household like that unless there are some changes.”
A tear was forming in the corner of Paula’s eye. “I… I know,” she said.
James’ car pulled to the front of the house and stopped. Harleen reached into her briefcase and pulled out a small white card. “Here,” she said as she gave it to Paula. “My new numbers are on the back, both office and home. If you need someone to talk to, please call.”
Paula slipped the card into the pocket of her black skirt. “I will,” she said. “Thank you.”
Harleen nodded, opened the car door and slipped into the passenger seat. James drove off, leaving Paula Brooks standing before the setting sun. What would the next dawn bring?
