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Times Past, 1982
Black Lightning
Dog Days of Summer
"Hurry it up, Johnny!" a young black man, dressed in dark pants and a short sleeved dark T-shirt, called out. His arms were holding the front end of a rather large wooden crate.
"I'm movin' as fast as I can, Cal!" a white young man, around the same age and dressed similarly, said. "This is heavier than I thought! My fingers keep slippin'." He was holding the backside of the crate as the two moved through a darkened alleyway.
"Just hold on! We're almost there."
"Can't we rest it just for a sec'nd?"
"Yeah, why don'tcha just rest it for a sec'nd?" a firm voice called from the shadows and a figure stepped out of the darkness. "And why don'tcha put that down nice and easy like while you're at it too."
Both men turned to see a masked black man with an afro dressed in a dark blue costume with yellow jagged trim. "Black Lightning!" Cal exclaimed with surprise.
Johnny felt the heavy crate shift suddenly. "Cal, don't!" But it was too late! Cal released his end of the box, and the crate fell to the ground, one end catching the toes of Johnny's left foot. "Oooooow! Ooooow! Damn it! Oooow!"
Black Lightning saw the one young man start to run. "Don't go leavin' the party just yet!" the hero said. "You'll miss the fun!" He cocked back his arm and let fly a bolt of energy. When he first started out, the hero needed a special belt to generate the bolts of energy he wielded. Now, somehow he was able to do so with his own body. The bio-electric blast hit the running youth and struck him down. The hero knew these were just normal guys, so he controlled the level of what he threw. Cal was fine but a bit stunned.
Black Lightning moved to where Johnny was trying to move the crate off his foot. The pain, however, was blinding. "Allow me!" the hero said. With a firm shove, he pushed the crate aside easily enough and freed the pinned foot.
Johnny, still in pain, tried to take a swing at the black man. Black Lightning dodged with ease, having been a trained Olympic athlete, and returned a punch with greater accuracy. The young white man went falling to the ground. "Boy, try to help and this's the thanks I get!" the hero said as he surveyed the two falled thieves.
"Not everyone wants your kinda help, my brother," said a voice from the end of the alley. Black Lightning turned at hearing the familiar voice. A black man dressed in sharp suit with a wide brim hat approached.
"Two-Bits! You keepin' your nose clean?" the hero asked.
"You know me," the newcomer smiled, a gold tooth reflecting in the light. He approached the crate, trying to make out the writing. "What the boys after tonight?"
Black Lightning joined him. "Looks like they hit up the electronics store on Isabella. It's an air conditioner, I think. One of those larger window units."
"AC, huh?" Two-Bits Tanner said. "Can't say I blames them. Its been gettin' mighty hot lately."
"Agreed," Black Lightning said. "Say, mind keepin' an eye on this while I haul these two down to Inspector Henderson?"
"Sure enough, brother," the man said.
Black Lightning nodded and rounded up the two fallen thieves.
It helped having someone he could turn to in his war against crime in the inner city. Like his old friend Peter Gambi, Two-Bits Tanner had been a great aid to fighting that war. Help like this was something that Jefferson Pierce thanked God for often in his prayers.
Still, he knew he had to keep his working 'relationship' with Two-Bits a secret. Having an informant who could move about the streets freely was a benefit. Besides, the hero did not want what happened to Peter to happen to the black man. One of his friends already lost his life because Jefferson was now Black Lightning. He did not want to lose any more.
***
The next afternoon as a cross-country bus moved over the bridge of the waterfront of Metropolis, one of the passengers, a bald man in a white shirt and gray slacks, was lost in his own thought.
My recent bout with the Flash went totally up in flames, he thought to himself. However, sifting through the ashes, there were a few gains from the whole situation. He ticked them off silently on his fingers. First, with the help of that shrink Doctor Synett, I was able to overcome my hidden fear of anything to do with cold. With that barrier gone, I feel like a new man.
Second, and equally as important, I was able to unmask the Scarlet Speedster and got a good look at his mug! Though I don't have any hot leads yet on who that blonde guy really is, I definitely have something start with. Sooner or later, I'll be able to put a name to the face, and then the days of the Flash are truly numbered! Mick Rory couldn't help but smile at that thought.
The bus driver raised his head to look back into the bus via the large mirror. "Hey, buddy," the driver called out. "You sure this is where you want to get off? Not many folks who come in from out of town want to get dropped off here."
Mick Rory noted the surroundings outside the window. The buildings were quite a bit older and run down. This was one of the more urban portions of the great metropolitan city. "Yeah, this is it," he said, grabbing his green duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Okay," the driver said, turning the wheel and pulling the big vehicle over to the curb. "You want to get out at Suicide Slum, it ain't none of my business!" He put the bus in park and hit the lever to engage the doors.
The two metal sheets parted, letting in the smell of exhaust and gritty air roll into the bus.
Mick Rory hopped down the three steps and onto the curb. As he moved away, the doors closed behind him with a creak, the vehicle shifted into drive, and the bus rumbled as it started off again.
Mick glanced around as the sun was starting to set in the west. The place was as bad as he heard. For the last few days of July, the heat was on the rise which didn't bother the man in the slightest. However, the garbage that overflowed in nearby cans was starting to turn in the heat. Windows were wide open in many of the brick buildings, most built so long ago and had not been fitted with modern cooling conveniences. Sounds of blaring televisions and radios or arguing occupants rolled out into the street, adding to the cacophony of the inner city.
Just by looking around, he could tell this was one of the poorer parts of the city. There were a few cars parked on the sides of the road, most of which had seen better days. Some of them appeared to have been vandalized a few times over.
There were some folks, mostly black in skin color, sitting on stoops or up on the fire escapes, fanning themselves as they try to stay cool. Their clothing looked older, worn. In that category, Mick was able to blend in. After he escaped from prison, he had to make do with what he could steal from a second hand store. Still, he kept moving so as not to draw too much attention.
He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and read the address again. He glanced at the street sign on the corner, looked both ways and then decided to turn right. "Now, where could this be?" he muttered to himself.
"You lost, mistah?" a wee voice called out to him. Mick turned to see a young, black child about age eight sitting on the curb to his left.
"No," the man said. He then considered, glanced around and turned back to the boy. "Well, maybe a little. You know where a tailor shop is around here?"
The boy smiled. "Sure. Got a quarter?"
Mick considered. Obviously the kid was shaking him down, looking to make a little money in exchange. He dug into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a coin. "Yeah, I've got a quarter." He held his hand out open for the child to see.
The boy snatched at it.
Mick was quicker and closed his hand. "First, where's the shop?"
The boy pointed. "Up that way, couple blocks," he explained. "Across from the high school. Can't miss it."
Mick nodded and tossed the coin to the kid. He then continued on his way.
Eventually, the bald man located number 108, but the little shop with the word 'tailor' stenciled on the front window was dark. Mick tried the door handle, but he encountered the resistance of the locked door. Hmmm, he must knock off early, he thought as he peered in the glass.
"Can I help you?" a female's voice asked. It came from an attractive black woman dressed in a light yellow blouse and brown skirt.
Mick turned around slowly, realizing he needed to play it cool. "Uh, I was looking for the tailor," he said. "Is he closed for the day?"
"Sorry," the woman said with a bit of sadness in his voice, "but Peter Gambi was killed earlier this year."
Mick Rory was surprised to hear this. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that," Mick said.
"Did you know him?" she asked.
"He was, uh, recommended to me," Mick said, coming up with a lie that sounded reasonable. "I never met him though." He saw the black woman looked curious. "I take it you knew him, this Gambi fellow?"
The woman said "I didn't, but my ex-husband did. They were very good friends."
"I'm sorry," Mick offered. "But if the shop's closed, I guess I'll be looking elsewhere." Mick then started off down the street. The black woman waited a bit, then turned and headed off towards home.
After a few blocks, Mick doubled back around to one of the side alleys. The shop had a hidden entrance in back. This wasn't what I expected, he thought to himself, but I guess I can improvise. He started to pick the lock in the dim light of dusk.
When I'd left Central City to work out my new plan, I knew I'd need a new costume. I couldn't turn to Paul Gambi; he had taken off on vacation to Italy. Waiting for him to get back wasn't an option. If I'd have stuck around, the Flash would have rounded me back up in no time.
Still, I remembered that Paul had once mentioned a relative of his that was also a tailor. He said this Peter Gambi lived in Metropolis. I figured maybe I'd look this man up and convince him to whip me up a spare suit. The lock finally gave, and the knob turned freely. Mick Rory slipped inside the darkened back room and closed the door, locking it behind him.
He found a light switch and flicked it on to get his bearings. He was in a darkened store room in back of the shop. There were still things on the shelves, materials and sewing supplies. "This might take me a bit longer than I'd hoped, but I think I can at least make use of what's here," he said to himself.
***
About a week later, as August was beginning, the last bell at Garfield High rang. "People, don't forget to finish reading Act Three this weekend," a black man dressed in a light blue shirt and navy slackd said at the front of the room. The students were gathering their books and heading for the door; a few gave him nods to indicate that his words were heard.
One of the last students to leave the room was Reggie Porter. The teacher stepped into the aisle between the row of desks as the young man was making his way to the front of the room. "Reggie, can I see you for a second?"
The young man said with some urgency in his voice, "I really gotta go, Mr. Pierce!"
"It'll just take a moment," Jefferson Pierce said, grabbing a sheet from his desk. He handed it to the student. Reggie didn't have to tally up the red marks to know it wasn't good news. "That's your quiz from yesterday. Have you been keeping up with the reading assignments?"
The young man kind of looked away. "Well..." He could see his teacher was waiting. "It's this writing, you know. It's hard to understand."
Pierce nodded. "I know Shakespeare takes a bit more concentration, but I think you would enjoy it if you gave it a fair shot. Othello has always been a favorite of mine."
"I don't know why I gotta know this junk anyway," Reggie said. "It ain't gonna help me get a job."
"You should worry about school first and work later on. You need to focus more, Reggie," Pierce explained. "You're a sharp kid. You can get this stuff. If you had just applied yourself more during the regular year, you wouldn't even need to be here in summer school."
The boy shoved the paper in his pocket. "Whatever," Reggie said in a dismissive way as he moved past the teacher. "I'm just killin' time 'til I'm sixteen anyway."
Jefferson Pierce frowned. "What happens then, Reggie? Planning on dropping out?" The teacher got no reply. "You won't get a decent job if you don't have your diploma." But Jefferson's words were falling on deaf ears as the student was already out the door.
Jefferson shook his head. He started to gather his stuff when he felt the sweat on his brow forming. Grabbing a hankie from his pant's pocket, he wiped the moisture away.
"Hot enough for you?" a female voice called from the doorway.
Jefferson turned and saw an attractive black woman standing there. "What's it got to be? Ninety five, ninety eight?"
"Try one oh one," Lynn Stewart said.
"One oh one!" Jefferson exclaimed. "That's crazy! How can we expect the kids to stay alert and listen when its this hot in here?"
"One of the joys of summer school," she said. "At least we're done for the day. Care to buy your ex-wife a soda down at Gert's?"
Jefferson nodded. "Sounds good to me," he said. He put the last of his papers and such into his leather satchel and slung the strap over his shoulder. He was pleased to see that the two of them had been getting along better in recent months. When he first returned to the school to teach last Fall, he had been avoiding Lynn like the plague. Now, it seemed like old times between the two as if they both were rediscovering the good traits about one another that brought them together in the first place.
***
Just as most weekends seem way too short, Monday inevitably rolled around again. Summer school was back in session, but by eleven in the morning there was a problem. Lynn Stewart was standing in the doorway to the principal's office.
"Mac, this is crazy," Lynn said. "Even with the fans, its unbearable."
The gray haired white man nodded. "I think you're right." He checked his glass of iced tea that was on his desk; the cubes were already melted down to mere slivers. He turned to the window and checked the thermometer that hung on the wall outside. The mercury was near the top line. "I'll get on the PA right now and announce that we're closing for the day."
"How hot is it?"
"One hundred and ten," Mac Chapin answered.
Not too long after, the word had spread about the school, and the students were being dismissed. The teachers waited around for the last ones to be picked up before departing themselves.
"So," Lynn said to her ex, "want to catch a late lunch?"
Jefferson Pierce stood on the school steps, staring off.
Lynn noticed and waved her hand. "Hello, you with me here?"
"What?" Jefferson asked. "Sorry."
"This heating getting to you too?"
"No," the man said. "Its not that." He gestured with his eyes to the edge of the school property.
Lynn Stewart followed his gaze. There was a young black student talking with a bunch of older guys - one black, one Hispanic and one white. "Is that one of yours?" she whispered.
"Yeah," Jefferson said as he gazed at the group. "Reggie Porter. He's thinking of dropping out."
"Jeff, you know its our job to open their minds to new possibilities, to inspire them to learn," she said. "But if they don't want to stay, we can't really force them to. Not once they're sixteen."
"Maybe," he had to admit. "But maybe there is something more I can do, or more likely something someone else can do."
Lynn heard the inflection in his voice. She knew he was referring to Black Lightning, his costumed alter ego. She had discovered his extracurricular activities earlier that year; as his ex-wife she could tell it was Jefferson under the costume and mask after seeing the hero in action a few times. "What are you considering?" she asked.
"Just a little observation is all," Jefferson said as he watched Reggie go off with the disreputable looking young men.
***
Afternoon turned to evening, but the setting of the sun brought little relief. "Man, it's got to still be a hundred out," Jefferson said to himself as he slipped on the mask which included a false afro to alter his hair's height. "Not the kind of night I want to be running around the city in spandex." Dressed as Black Lightning, he slipped out into the street under the shadows of the old buildings. "But if I'm even half right about those guys Reggie is hanging around with, there could be trouble. And that's when Black Lightning needs to step in!"
The hero did a few circuits of the neighborhood, watching out for trouble as well as for his wayward student. Eventually, he observed Reggie as the boy was meeting up with two of the men from earlier in the day; they were talking near the basketball court out back of the school. Black Lightning crouched down near some trash cans a good distance away so he could see what they were up to. For the most part, it appeared to be just conversation with occasional laughing and some gesturing. "Man, what I wouldn't give for a little super-hearing right about now," he mused to himself.
After awhile, the group broke up. The two men went back towards the street, got into a car and drove off. Reggie hung out at the court for a bit and then headed off to the north. Black Lightning watched him go. I know the Porter's live up that way, he thought as he moved out from his hiding spot. He could be heading back home. So far, I've got nothing to go on here. The hero started to move out.
Maybe Lynn's right, he thought to himself. As a teacher and as a hero, I want to try and steer these kids down the right road in life. I don't want them to make mistakes that will cost them later on. Black Lightning wiped the sweat away from his cheek. But how do I get through to the ones that don't want to be gotten to?
The hero moved around to the front of the school and was about to head home. I guess all I can do now is go home and finish preparing the test for next week, he thought. As he turned, he noticed something odd. "What's this?"
Across they way, in a building he knew was left abandoned, Black Lightning saw the faint glow of a light as if shining under a doorway. Looks to me like I've found someone trespassing in Peter's old shop, he thought as he made his way across the street towards the old tailor store. Let's see if I can get the drop on them!
He grabbed the front knob but found it locked. Not a problem, the hero thought. Just need to give it a good shove! Using his shoulder, he slammed into the door frame and popped the lock.
***
Just moments before, in the back of the shop, Mick Rory had finished putting on the white costume he had been working on all week. With the hood up and his goggles and belt in place, he checked himself out in an old dusty mirror. Not as good as Gambi would have done, but it will do, he thought. Heat Wave is back in fighting form!
That's when he heard a loud thud from out front!
"Wha....?" The villain grabbed at his holster and pulled out a gun-like weapon. Looks like I'm about to have some company! I better scoot! He bolted for the back door.
Black Lightning burst into the back room. "Nobody move!" he yelled. The room was lit but appeared to be unoccupied. Glancing around, he noticed some materials on the counter: needle, thread, scraps of cut fabric. He also noticed on the floor some discarded waste: soda cans, food wrappers and the like. He kicked his boot through the trash. "Still fresh."
He moved to the back and opened the door to the alleyway. "Unlocked." Someone had been here fairly recently. "Perhaps they're still lurking about." Black Lightning started up the alleyway.
A form darted out of the shadows and into the street ahead of him. The hero only saw the movement but not a good look at the person. "Ah ha!" Black Lightning broke into a sprint. As he spun around the corner, he yelled, "You there! Hold it!"
Heat Wave spun around to see who was addressing him. "Who do we have here? Someone trying to play hero?" He aimed his gun and fired a blast of flames at the black man.
Black Lightning threw himself against the brick wall of the building as the jet of fire shot past him. He could feel the intense heat that cut through the air. "I know you! You're Heat Wave! Now it all makes sense!" He started to lunge for the villain. "You're behind this freak hot spell we're havin', ain't ya?"
With his weapon, the villain widened the blast, creating a wall of fire between himself and the hero. "Sorry, buddy, I can't take credit for that!" he sneered. "But to be honest, I hadn't noticed it anyway."
Black Lightning realized the quickest way to his quarry was through the fire, so he ran forward fast, ducked his head and plowed through it. On the other side, he hit the pavement with a roll, just in case any of the flames tried to burn his costume.
"Stop, drop and roll! How clever!" Heat Wave said. "We'll see if you can handle a more direct assault then!" He took aim once more.
"Uh uh, pal!" Black Lightning scolded. "Now its time you tasted a little fire, lightning style!" The hero's hands crackled with golden energy, and he sent a bolt directly at the villain's weapon.
The snapping, sparking blast sent a jolt of current through the metal weapon and into Heat Wave's hands. "Unnnnghhhhh...." he stammered with the stinging, shocking sensation. His heat gun fell from his hands to the pavement.
Black Lightning rose to his feet with a smile. "See, that's what happens when you start nosin' around my 'hood, Heatsie! You're in for a big shock!"
Heat Wave shook it off and cursed his luck. His older suits, the one Paul Gambi often made for him, included specialized linings that would help protect him against attacks like that. Left to his own devices and skills, he was barely lucky to be able to cobble together this makeshift uniform with flame resistant materials. Still, he wasn't done in just yet. His weapons were still functioning, all of them.
"Oh, you think you're funny," Heat Wave snapped. "I've faced heroes like the Flash before, and you're not even in his league! I figured I'd run into someone like Superman here, but the likes of you doesn't even register on my radar!" He started to bend down to retrieve his fallen gun.
A bolt of electricity hit the pavement between him and the weapon. Heat Wave jumped back.
"I may not be Superman, but I can handle the likes of you!" the hero said. "And just so you know: around here, lightning can strike the same place twice! Now, I think it's time you surrender so's we can get you back to jail in time for bed check!"
Heat Wave glared at the hero. Such arrogance, such cockiness. Sure, Heat Wave liked the game of banter back and forth, but he preferred doing so with his old sparring partner. Still, having spent so much time fighting the Flash, the villain had to learn to think quick on his feet.
"Surrender?" Heat Wave said. "Okay, fine." He started to raise his arms in the air.
Black Lightning started to move forward but hesitated. What was this guy up to?
Heat Wave waited for the hero to get a bit closer and then... zaaaapppp! The infrared lenses in the villain's mask projected twin beams of heat right where he was looking, directly at Black Lightning. "Gotcha, sucker!"
The twin shots hit Black Lightning squarely in the shoulders, knocking him backwards. "Uggh!" he grunted. "Heat vision? Who woulda figured?" He used his wrist guards to beat about his shoulders to put on any flames. Still, he knew he'd have a little bit of a burn due to those shots.
Heat Wave blasted at him again as he moved forward. The hero dodged and rolled backwards to avoid additional contact. "Well, now, rookie, looks like you're in for a little trial by fire!" the villain laughed. "Hope you don't get burned! Ha ha ha!"
Lightning grabbed a trash can lid to try and deflect the blasts. It managed to hold them off briefly until the intense heat started to melt the metal. I gotta get back in this, get off the defensive! He decided the lid could still serve some use. Back when I did the decathlon in the Olympics, discus wasn't one of my stronger events but still... He swung back his arm and then cocked it forward. He sent the lid flying.
"Whaaa...." Heat Wave was surprised as the lid zinged in the air towards him. Before he could duck out of the way, it hit him squarely in the face. "Ooooow ooooow!" He fell to the pavement, holding his face in his hands. When the spots cleared from his eyes, he could see the net result of the hero's attack. "My goggles! You cracked the lenses!"
"You got that right, jack!" Black Lightning said as he rushed over and grabbed the fallen man. "You're just lucky that's all that got cracked!" He hoisted Heat Wave into the air. With his weapons out of commission and out of reach, the villain could hardly put up a fight. "Next time you think about nosin' 'round Metropolis and my 'hood, you think twice! Got that?"
Defeated, all Heat Wave could do was nod.
Epilogue
Morning, Garfield High: Lynn Stewart stepped into the teacher's lounge where she encountered her ex pouring some coffee. "Hey, you look like you pulled an all-nighter," she said. She put her hands on his shoulders to try and ease some tension.
Jefferson Pierce winced. "Ow. Any other time, I'd be happy for one of your shoulder rubs, but not today."
"Oh," she said. "Hurt yourself?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine," he replied. "I was out watching Reggie when I noticed a trespasser at Peter's. Turned out to be some trouble from out of town."
"But you took care of it, right?"
"Oh, yeah, definitely," Jefferson said. "Any problems with the heat around here will be natural ones."
"What about Reggie?" Lynn asked. "Any luck there?"
"Not yet," Jefferson said. "I'm not going to give up on him just yet. He's got awhile until he turns sixteen. Maybe I can find a way to reach him yet."
Lynn smiled. That's one thing she always loved about Jefferson Pierce. He was a dedicated man. Once he set his mind to doing something, he was committed to see it through.