Earth A

A strange mystical sub-dimension

They of the Four sat at the table. It was not time for their monthly meeting.

"I say, old chap, why have you called us together on this auspicious day? I damn well nearly skipped the bloody meeting," said a short, pudgy man well into his sixties. He wore a blue oxford shirt, a red tie, an off-white silk sport-coat, and a matching fedora. Were this a movie, the following words would be on screen with him:

The Disobedient Old English Guy

"Yeah, man. I was busy winning the tough-man contest on Rimbor," said a second man. His tight, none-too-clean red shirt with white sleeves gave hints to his physique. Not overly pumped, but cut as all hell. His fore-arms were covered with tattoos, and larger than most men could dream. His hair was curly, greasy, and about six inches long. It was kept under a white (well, once it was white) Oliver Twist hat. He hadn’t shaved . . .or maybe he had. He always had that same stubble.

The Ass-Whipper

"I know the fine young lady I was with’s gonna be kinda disappointed, but I think I know what’s goin’ on," said another. He exuded sex, like an attractive Rod Stewart. His blonde hair was combed back in a pompadour, side-burns down to mid-ear. He wore a black sport-coat, red shirt, and silver tie, with black slacks rounding it off. He carried a guitar.

The Rocker

"Your suspicions are correct, Rocker," said the fourth. He was a black man in his early sixties. His eyes told many tales of hardship and pain. His hands were rough, belying a life of hard work and hard play. He wore dirty clothes and a dirty old baseball cap. "I have felt a disturbance in the Creative Energy, the one which you and I access through our music. There is a soul there, and his time isn’t up. We must contact The Justice League of Ashland!"

The Old Blues Man

JLAshland HQ

"I’ve got a new friend/She’s hanging on my wall/She’s not like the others/She’s the fairest of them all/When the world it brings me down and life don’t go my way/I’m thinking I should end it all but I’ve got a new solution/Yeah, I’ve got a new solution. Gonna pick up some beer/Stay at home/and stare at my Claire Danes poster!"

"WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?!?" Ice Queen said. DaDamerican stopped singing.

"What, you don’t like Size 14? Fun band, if you ask me. Oh, I get it. You’re jealous . . ."

The Mistress of Cold narrowed her eyes. "I’m going to ignore that comment." She couldn’t help but smile, though.

Infinite Mike’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers. "Attention fellow Leaguers. I have developed a plan to procure our team-mates souls."

[Editor’s note—Bassmaster, Heartman, Adrenalin, and El Wood the Spanish Rogue had their souls stolen by the nefarious Evil Bill in the previous two issues.]

The Battling Beatnik stroked his beard. "’Bout time. For an infinite guy, he can take his damn time sometimes."

The JLAshland What Do We Do Next Room

Infinite Mike stood at the head of the table. "Roll call," he boomed, after-images of his infinite nature fading in and out of existence as he sat down.

"Ice Queen here," Mary Roberts said.

"Wonder Mormon as well," said the brunette next to her, Annie Beaman.

"Whiteguy here!" said Mark White, the Great White Hope.

"Girlman present and accounted for," Casey Fraser said, stroking his decidedly un-girly goatee.

"For sh*t’s sake, Mike, can’t you just look around? I’m here! Duh!" Said Joe Rice, the DaDamerican.

"Bylaws must be followed, DaDamerican. Unit designated as El Wood is here," E.T. Waddell’s stiff body said mechanically. See, his computer had taken control of his lifeless body when Evil Bill stole his soul.

"Yo," Josh Cook, the Battling Beatnik, said, looking up from his writing.

"Very well," Infinite Mike said. "As I said, I have developed a plan to bring our comrades back to normal. I’ve heard word of—"

Infinite Mike was interrupted by the beeping of the JLAshland’s computer.

"Seems to be an emergency call. Onscreen," he said.

"Greeting’s and what’s up," said the face on the screen.

DaDamerican’s eyes bulged. "WILLIE MAXWELL!" he said. "THE OLD BLUES MAN!"

"Good to be recognized, Joe. But this is serious business. We need you and a couple of your friends. There’s a disturbance in the Creative Energy. You, Battling Beatnik, and Girlman are needed at once."

"The Creative Energy? What have you found?"

"We found Kung Fu. He’s trapped in there, but alive."

"That’s great!"

"Maybe not, Girlman. We’ve got to find a way to get him out, or he’ll be trapped . . .forever!"

"Understood, sir. We’re ready."

The Old Blues Man closed his eyes. DaDamerican, the Battling Beatnik, and Girlman faded from view. There was silence in the room.

"Aaaaaanyway," Infinite Mike continued (yeah, it was weird, but you get used to that sort of thing when you’re a superhero for a while), "I’ve heard word of a Soul Trap. Evidently, it’s from some extradimensional demoness, and she used it to obtain souls for bounty. But it should work to re-capture our friends’ essences."

"Great! Where is it?" Whiteguy asked.

"Uh, I don’t know. We’ll have to check out our supernatural sources. And I spoke to Battling Beatnik, and Greenup County might give us some answers."

"Well, quit yappin’ and lets get on this thing!" Wonder Mormon proclaimed.

Where? The vast, untamed wilderness of Greenup County, Kentucky.

The cresent moon grows dim and red as the heroes known as Infinite Mike, Wonder Morman, and Whiteguy make their way down an unkept dirt road heading straight for the heart of Greenup.

"Would you care to remind me again why we had to drive this 1960's beaten-up and rusty Chevy truck and not my car?" condescends Wonder Morman.

"It's just like Mike told you the last time you asked," answers Whiteguy. "There are a lot of dangerous rednecks out here and we don't want to attract any attention. Mike, where did we put the Billy Ray Cyrus 8-track?"

"It's in the tool box with the cheap beer and GPC cigarettes."

Suddenly a deer runs out in front of them and Infinite Mike swerves off of the road to avoid it. The mismatched body parts of the truck are sheared of by the trees as the heroes rumble through the overgrown forest, unable to stop until they land in the middle of a small, swampy pond.

"Now I'm glad we didn't bring my car," says the Wonder Morman as the truck begins to sink. "But do tell me, Mike, why you just couldn't teleport us to where we were going."

"For one, the Battling Beatnik didn't tell me exactly where we were going. And also, if this Becky girl he mentioned is as powerful a sourceress as he says, I thought it best to mask my own mystical abilities. Now how about we get out of the truck before we drown?"

Once on the shore, Whiteguy begins to notice someting odd. "Do you two feel as though we are being watched?"

"Don't be paranoid! You probably just have a leech in you undies."

"Whi hav ya' cum here? Madaame Becky sur don't lik bein' disturbeded." Speaks a strongly accented voice behind them. They turn to see an ugly country man dressed up like a ninja, but before they can react a cloud of gas engulfs our heroes and they fade to blackness.

Whiteguy awakes to an ugly black dog sniffing the leech he can now feel doing a job in his underwear. Infinite Mike and Wonder Morman are in the corner of this dark, cavelike room speaking to an ugly woman who thinks she's much cooler that she actually is.

"So you say this warlock you call Evil Bill stole your friends' souls and now you want me to return them? Sure, I can help you out, but it's going to cost you," says the apparently tripped out witch.

"Name it and it's yours," calls out Whiteguy after thoroughly relieving himself of the bloodsucker in his underwear.

"I want sex with one of your super-men."

Our champions of right begin to wonder if this witch named Becky has asked for the only thing they cannot provide.

tbc

"And now the startling conclusion of . . .THE DEATH PROBE!"

With that began the episode of The Six-Million Dollar Man that was on the JLAshland television screen. The lone figure watching it was that of El Wood, the Spanish Rogue. The body made no movements. For it was lifeless. It’s soul had been stolen by the villain known simply as Evil Bill. El Wood’s computer had gone into emergency mode and inhabited the husk of its master. The computer thought that this was an appropriate television show to watch. It, like Steve Austin, was now part-man, part-machine. And Lee Majors, the star (also known for his lead in The Fall Guy) was from eastern Kentucky, around Ashland. As Steve used his bionic powers to evade the Russian Death Probe, El Wood’s Oscillating Impregnatron started beeping. He sprang to action, punching buttons like some mad typist.

Whiteguy’s amiable face appeared on the screen. "Woodsy! Just the man I wanted to see!"

El Wood tilted his head in query. "What seems to be the problem, Whiteguy?"

"Well, we need you and Ice Queen to come on down to Greenup. The witch here is willing to make a trade. Power for, uh, doin’ it."

"Doin’ it?" El Wood inquired.

"Ah, sex."

"Excellent," El Wood replied.

"Now if you don’t want to, you—WHAT? ‘Excellent’? You haven’t even seen her . . .she’s not too easy on the eyes, my man . . ."

"Aesthetics matter not. I need more memory space. I must reproduce. Ice Queen has already rejected my offer for copulation seven times. We will be there as soon as possible."

"Whatever you say, man, whatever you say."

******Street CornerSouth BeachMiami, FL

Willie Maxwell played his guitar, sitting on a milk crate. Behind him, on a fence, hung several news clippings from days gone by. Days when he played with Ray Charles, James Brown, and other greats.

Standing around him, in civilian gear, were Joe "DaDamerican" Rice, Josh "Battling Beatnik" Cook, and Casey "Girlman" Fraser. Casey leaned in to whisper to Joe.

"If he’s this cosmic being type guy, how come he plays on a street corner? How come he stinks of liquor?"

"He’s keepin’ it real, Casey. Keepin’ it real."

Willie looked up. "You ain’t got a thing, if you ain’t got that swing. Hah-hah-hah!" A passing tourist snapped a photo. His countenance grew darker and he stood up. "I say you could do that? ‘M I just scenery here? YEAH, JUST F*CKIN WALK AWAY, YOU B*TCH! DO THAT AGAIN AN’ I’LL SHOVE ‘AT CAM’RA UP YO’ *SS!" Slowly, he settled down, and re-took his seat.

"Boys, I know y’all’s wantin’ ta know about yo’ ol’ buddy Ben. ‘At boy ain’t done. He got more sh*t to kick left. So he’s driftin’ in the Creative Energy. Right now, he’s part of Rock & Roll itself. But he ain’t got much time."

"Right, I got that part. But how do we get him out? Can’t you do it yourself?"

"Ain’t my place to do it. ‘S yours."

"I dig," Battlin’ Beatnik said. "But how we gonna do it, man?"

"Ev’ry livin’ soul has its own special, uh, frequency in the Creative Energy. The trick fo’ you boys is gonna be findin’ ol’ Ben’s. You gotta Rock his soul, lit’rally. Me an’ th’ others’ll help ya when we can, but this’s gonna mainly be all you. You gotta jam and find ‘at boys vibe."

"But how? I don’t get it!" Girlman said.

"I cain’t help ya no more. Now go on, save ‘at boy."

******

Ice Queen, Wonder Mormon, Whiteguy, and Infinite Mike sat expectantly in the living room of the witch. She and the robotic El Wood had gone into her quarters about twenty minutes ago. Everyone was sweating. Her redneck ninja henchmen that stared longingly at the four didn’t help out.

Then, suddenly, the witch stormed through the room and into the kitchen. She started screaming incoherently.

El Wood came out, costume all off-kilter.

"What happened?" Infinite Mike asked.

There was a pause as El Wood considered this. Then, finally, "Unforeseen malfunction."

The Witch came back into the room. "NINJA REDNECK HENCHMEN, ATTACK! DESTROY THE JUSTICE LEAGUE OF ASHLAND!"

Next: Action (finally!)

Just as the witch shouted her order, she fell to the floor in a heap. Her henchmen stood shocked, not knowing what to do. Thier leader had never done that before. In that moment, El-Wood's off kilter costume ripped itself apart at the seems and fell off, revealing a sleek, black jumper with small black boxes and tubes attached at various points.

Just as the Henchmen realized that something was amiss with, a cloud of small darts issued forth out of El-Wood's recently buffed up chest. Within seconds, all of the Henchmen were unconsious on the floor with thier leader.

El-Wood, after a quick survey of the sceen stated matter of factly "test complete. Status: Success"

The other JLA member stood speechless. El-Wood, noticing this, quicky responded.

"Durring some effectiveness self assessments, I realized that this corpeal body is not optimal for our mission. I took it upon myself to design a suit which would enhance the physical capablities of this body and provide further protection again harm. This was a test. The witched responded unfavorably to a set of pickup lines left in the memory banks of this body. She was also unhappy to find a non-consenting, fully armed mail underneath a Rogue outfit. It is appearant that know the timeline from there forward."

After a moment, one of the others responded, "unconsenting? But what about you and the " as he made a gesture toward the heap of villans.

"Oh, procreation is quite impossible at this point. The previous inhabitant of this body restricted reproductive functions under a marraige type protocol. The restriction is hard wired into the neural net. Software, in this instace, cannot overwrite the hardware. We should do someting about them before they awaken. The particular drug used will wear off in a few moments. In my annayisis, the best course of action is to rewrite the memories of the witch so that they may refect favorably toward our current mission. Are there any objections?"

The JLA members stood collectively, with mouths agape.

"Seeing none, I will proceed"

El-Wood went over to the body and began to hook small electrodes from his suit up to the witches head.

?Where? South Beach in Miami, Florida at a seedy bar called El Chapala's.

After figuring that the old blues man wasn't about to give us any more help Joe (DaDamerican), Casey (Girlman), and I (Battling Beatnik) decided that our next step was to get a beer and let the anwers come to us. Joe and I found a place at a table in front of the bar so we could enjoy all of the bikini clad women passing by. Then Casey came out of the bar with our fat thirty-two ounce beers.

"Let's just say that I'm glad we're sitting out here. I know that we're super powered, but still..." Casey said, "that looks like a rough place in there."

"Just sit back and enjoy the ocean breeze," I recomended. "Learn from it if need be."

Joe had picked up an old accoustic before we got to the bar and was off in his own world playing around and waiting for the great secret that was going to help us save our friend to grab him by the balls and take him for a wild creative ride.

Casey was starting to learn from the ocean breeze, or nodding off. They're about the same thing. And as for myself, I was letting the fat glass of beer throw me into memories of my summer spent in the mountains.

A few memories and twenty ounces later this increadible red headed devotchka' in bellbottoms and a bikini top wondered over and started talking to me. She was nice, very nice, and interesting, unlike most bikini-clad women I run into so I offered to get her a beer. She accepted.

Casey had been justified in not wanting to hang out inside this place. For one it reeked; of what I'm still not sure. Anyway, the only fellas in there besides me and the bartender were these four fat, tan men with big mustaches. I meandered up to the bar and ordered another drink for the lady just in time to hear one of the fat, tan men make a bad joke about something involving Jesus, the President, and homosexuality. I asked what he was drinking and broke the bottle across his face.

It turned out not to be a good idea on my part because the tan, fat men weren't as drunk as I had expected. After that it was all "POPS!" and "POWS!" and me doing the best I could not to get killed.

Outside I noticed my friends had become aware of the action going on, but weren't all that excited to help out. Casey was diverting the red head's attention from the brawl by flirting with her himself. As for Joe, my little adventure was becoming his background music as he started wailing on that ancient guitar with all his might. It sounded as though he was getting onto something.

The bar stool splintering across my back gave me a much needed wake-up call. I quickly dispatched of all but the last of the tan, fat men, who moments later found himself flying through a window and crashlanding on the table my friends were sitting at.

"By jove, I think I've got it!" yelled Joe as he finished whatever it was he was playing with some completely "lost" cord.

"Told you it would come to us if we relaxed and let it find us," I said. "So, what's the plan?"

"Plan?" asked the thoroughly confused red haired beauty.

tbaAs the soul-less, machine-driven El Wood approached the witch, Ice Queen screamed, "YES I have an objection! You can't just go around re-writing people's minds! That's brainwashing!"

Infinite Mike reflected on this. "She is right. Such an act would be a violation of my ethics. Do not proceed."

"Yeah, free will is important, dorkus," Wonder Mormon said. "Without it, there is neither good nor evil, just controlled and not controlled."

"I don't care about all that," Whiteguy began, "I just find something fishy about your behavior in general. Our ET is far too moral to think about brainwashing folks." A gleaming white aura brightened around Mark White, the Great White Hope. "I think not having your soul is affecting you. Machines don't have morals, just logic, right?"

Infinite Mike nodded.

"He's right," Ice Queen said. "He kept coming on to me for sex back at the headquarters. I figured it was a bug in his programming at first, so I gave him some berth. I only kicked his shins."

"Why the sudden change?" Whiteguy asked. "Ever since the computer took over, you've been more sex-crazed than Flotarr."

Infinite Mike stood up. "This business about software and hardware . . .it is irrevelent. El Wood's soul is what keeps him from what he sees as dark paths. His mind, without his soul, would not be encumbered by such limitations."

The group stared at their comrade.

"Analysis correct, my team-mates. Without the organism's soul, this unit has no conscience. You, therefore, must act as this unit's conscience. I will add to my programming your statements. Brainwashing bad, free will good. Excellent."

Whiteguy glowed even brighter. "And never lie to us."

"Understood, Whiteguy. Perhaps I should be truthful about the previous incident. I was going to attempt to copulate with the female but I ran into certain mechanical problems. First was the workings of this 'bra' construct. Second was the lack of physical interactions programmed within me."

"You couldn't figure out what to do, could you?" Ice Queen asked.

"Correct. Then came a full-scale mechanical breakdown in my--"

"OK! OK, we don't need to hear about that, Woodsy!" Whiteguy said. "Let's just get out of here!"

"Not so fast, heroes." The Witch and her henchmen had awakened. "ATTACK THEM, YOU SILLY REDNECK NINJA FOOLS!"

Now the living room was full with our five Leaguers, the Witch of Greenup, and her dozen odd lackeys.

"We're a-gonna kick yer *sses, all ninja-like and sh*t!" one of them yelled. Then he jumped into the air in a dazzling jumpkick. "Hiiiii-yeeeeeeee-haaaaaaa!"

"Fer beer an' honor! An' purdy cousins!" was their fierce battle cry.

The first one had jumped at Wonder Mormon. She caught him mid-air and threw him into the shoddy old tv.

A white streak carried two out the door.

Ice Queen formed a shield between the three running at her and her own body. They smacked into it and promptly hit the floor.

El Wood swung in on a previously unseen chandelier and dropped in front of four that had drawn katanas.

"Analysis: your swordsmanship cannot match that of El Wood, the Spanish Rogue! Prepare for inevitable defeat!" His arm was a blur of parries, feints, and slashes, simultaneously fighting all four. He had them all cornered, when Whiteguy zipped by and bonked them all on the head.

"Sorry, m'man. May not have been as graceful as your moves, but time is of the essence!"

Infinite Mike, eyes glowing red, was approaching the last two henchmen.

"Uh, Ed?" one said.

"Yeah, Francis?"

"Ain't that one show on TNN with all the dancin' comin' on?"

"YEAH! I plum near fergot! 'Scuse me, Mr. Sooperhero sir, but we're only doin' this part time. Got laid off at the plant, y'know. Can we go watch our show?"

"Fine," the Infinite one said. Then he turned to the Witch. "I suggest you surrender the knowledge we desire."

"FINE, OK! Geez! It's just so boring here! Greenup doesn't have any cool heroes. Sigh. Oh, well. You wanted to know about the Soul Trap?"

"Duh," Wonder Morman said.

The Witch glared at her for a second, then remembered how hopelessly outnumbered she was.

"Well, I tried to get my hands on it myself. No dice. Last I heard, it was confiscated by the government."

"Great," Whiteguy, who knew of CIA Special Agent James Douglas Morrison. "CIA?"

"No," the woman replied. "FBI."

******

Joe, Josh, Casey, and the girl they'd picked up were high-tailing it down the street in Miami. Josh, the Battlin' Beatnik, had made short work of the toughs in the bar, but no one particularly wanted to deal with the results. They went to the Ritz Plaza, where they'd reserved a room.

Resting on the two beds, they caught their breath.

"So, what's the big idea you got, Joe?" Casey asked.

"Well, it's not a complete idea, but the start of one. I think I found a chord that has something to do with Ben. We've got to find the rest, though. And I don't think just us playing will be enough. We've got to gather enough Rock and Roll to pull Ben back to this dimension. Gotta get more folks to help out, more rockers."

"Cool," said the half-listening Josh. He was busy paying attention to the girl he'd met.

tbc

The delapidated JLA sped away from Greenup County back toward more familiar territory. But the stay in Ashland would only be short-lived. They did not plan to stop in Ashland, but the computer that now resided in El-Wood's body forced them to stop. In an effort to learn, the computer had chugged several cans of Mountain Dew (El-Wood's favorite drink), but didn't take into consideration the size of his bladder. So the JLA (or what was left of it) was stopped at a gas station on the outskirts on Ashland, waiting for a computer to get done with his business in the bathroom.

Wonder Morman was getting restless. "How much longer is he gonna take! You'd think that this computer would have figured out a way to optimize the time spent peeing!" "Maybe he's doing something else. Just give him a minute."

"Okay, Whiteguy. I'll give him a minute, but nothing more."

Infinite Mike spoke in his calm, almost too calm manner. "You also have to keep in mind that this El-Wood is not the same as our old comrade. Remember, this computer is trying learn about El-Wood. Maybe he's analyzing someting."

"Would he be trying to figure out the math behind using the bathroom?!"

"Maybe. When we were in high school, El-Wood did try to figure out the math behind some weird things. But, don't hold anything against him. Even though they have the same body, they don't have the same mind or spirit. The real El-Wood would have already been back by now and we'd be on our way. If El-Wood knew some of the things that his computer has done, he'd kill himself!"

"Okay! Okay! I'll be a little bit more lenient with the stupid robot."

"Hey guys. Here he comes."

"Finally! Now we can get going."

El-Wood approached the JLA.

"Sure took you long enough!"With that Wonder Mormon grabbed El-Wood and threw him (literally) in with the rest of the JLA.

"Hey! Don't throw that perverted computer next to me!"

El-wood began in a low romantic voice (or at least as romantic as a computer can get) "Ya know, Ice Queen, I was thinking about you and me...."

"I was thinking about you and me too! And if you try to use one of those pick-up lines on me again, I'm gonna freeze your butt!!"

"Shut up back there! You can freeze his butt when we get there. And don't use any pick uip lines, Woody. Got that?! Let's try to remain somewhat civil. We've got a big trip ahead of us."

"Okay. Okay. I won't freeze his butt." "And El-Wood. Run some self-diagnostics to keep yourself busy for the next little while."

"Performing self-diagnostic....checking ..."

"That'll keep him busy."

"Good thinking, Mike."

"I remember some time ago when the real El-Wood was trying to tell me about some kind of fabulous computer program he created. I guess this (looking back at El-Wood) was it. If I remember correctly, the full diagnostic will take about the same time as our trip give or take a few minutes." "You shouldn't have already told him to do that! I wanted to find out what took him so long in there!!"

"You can find out when we gets done. Just think about something else for a while."

With a grumble from Wonder Morman, they sped off.

"I never thought in all my days that I'd ever think that someone would be mad because they didn't know what took someone so long to pee. Well, that's Wonder Morman for ya," thought Mike, as they turned onto the highway.

They traveled to the east. Away from Ashland to that place that only few dare to tread. There was no choice. They either had to go, or loose their friends souls forever. And so, with El-Wood now with an empty bladder, performing checks of his sytems, the five began their journey into their heart of darkness, into West Virginia.

None really knew where they were going, but they knew that they'd know it when they got there.

tbc...