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Spirit of Liberty!

Issue #3

“Gentlemen, we have met the enemy and it is…!”

Writer "Blustery" Bob Danner,
Co-Plotters "Blustery" Bob Danner and "Svelte" Sammy Lindon

“WOTAN!” screamed Sandra Knight.  “But how?”


“Oh, my dear, dear Phantom Lady.  My exploits are written among the very mists of time and as such need not be gone over here!  It is enough that I am here and as you can see, I am very much in control of this “little” party of ours.” exclaimed the vile villain. 


These words sent cold shivers up the spine of Phantom Lady.  She was well aware of what evil this emerald skinned fiend was capable of.  A cool breeze blew across the crowd gathered in the Town Square and as her black hair twisted in the wind, she realized what a very dire situation she was in.  To the left and right of her, chained to each other and quite incapacitated, was what was left of the Freedom Fighters.  In front of her, on a raised platform, was the eon’s old villain Wotan and skulking next to him was his chief lackey, Mersufon.  Surrounding this entire assemblage were hundreds of Wotan’s elite soldiers, dressed in garish golden armor and armed with a type of plasma firing, energy rifle.  Weapons so advanced, that they not only appear to be out of place, but out of time when compared to the surrounding civilization.  Then the evil being spoke:   


 “You see my beautiful lady, I have shown these people the error of their ways and have given them a wonderful existence.  They work and make this kingdom a better place.  Their blood, toil and tears have made this kingdom grow and prosper, and have made me powerful.  I have eyes and ears that roam this land, I know everything that happens here.  How do you think that I knew you were here so quickly, ehh?” spoke the dictator with an evil leer upon his devilish face.


As his words were spoken, up on the dais stepped the figure of a young dark-haired man.  A young man whose head was held very low considering what he had done to his family and new friends. 


“No!” cried Esak as he lifted his head to look upon the traitor.  “Not you son!?  Why would you abandon your family and turn your back on your people?” asked the old man of his oldest son. 


“Because Father!” Zarek cried.  “Because I was promised to be reunited with Adira!”  And with that, Zarek lunged forward and grabbed the blonde slave girl and embraced her as only long, parted lovers could.  The two stood and held each other and the tears began to flow.


A look of astonishment and despair flashed across the face of Phantom Lady as she gazed upon Zarek.  “No wonder Wotan’s soldiers were able to capture us so quickly!” she thought to herself.


“Oh, and I have kept my word, haven’t I Zarek?” exclaimed the evil Caliph.  “I promised you that for your aid, I would allow you to be reunited with your precious wife!  I have kept my part of the bargain and for long enough.”  Removing his gnarled hand from his amulet, Wotan waved a command to his soldiers and two of them stepped towards Zarek and Adira.  With a butt stroke to the head, the couple were again separated and the limp body of Zarek thrown down at the feet of his father, Esak. “I never promised you a long reunion fool, no not a long one at all!” hissed Wotan, casting a glance upon the slave girl now lying at his feet, sobbing.  “Gather the prisoners Sergeant and take them back to the palace for disposal!” ordered Wotan.


“Master, what of Esak and his sons?” whispered the Grand Vizier, Mersufon, into the ear of the Caliph.


“Eh?  They are of no threat to my plans or me my disciple.  Better to leave a weak leader in power, one that we can control, no?” replied Wotan. 


“Yes, yes Master!”  Mersufon replied rubbing his grubby hands together in glee.  “As always Master, you are quite correct!”


The two figures of utter evil stood on the dais laughing an evil laugh, a laugh that echoed off into the distance. 


The soldiers loaded the Freedom Fighters into a caged wagon for transport.  Glancing around the wagon, Phantom Lady realized that all the Freedom Fighters were here, yes all were here save one.  “Darrell!” she thought to herself.  “Where are you?”


Yes readers, where was Darrell Dane AKA Doll Man?  What has happened to our mighty mite? -Ye Writer


From the back of the crowd a pair of miniature eyes watched as the Caliph’s party departed and his compatriots were loaded into a cage and escorted off towards the palace of Wotan.  Wrapped in a blanket, the diminutive member of our merry party had watched in horror at the developments of this morning.  Struggling to find the words to express himself, Doll Man spoke to the woman holding him in her arms.  “Madam, I thank you very much for your help in concealing me from the soldiers, but I have to get after them.”


“Kind sir, I owed you this much for your friend saving my little girl yesterday, but I must warn you that you will be killed if the soldiers find you.  You wouldn’t stand a chance against all of them!” exclaimed the familiar woman.


“Perhaps you are right, but I have to do something!” spoke Doll Man as he jumped down to the ground in the Town Square.


“Yes, my friend, something must be done!” exclaimed Esak as he saw Doll Man hit the ground.  “But what?”


“I am truly sorry for what I have done Father, but isn’t it time for us to start fighting back?  I must do something to make amends for my foul deed, and to retrieve my dearest wife.”cried Zarek. 


“Do you think that you can be trusted now?  Back years ago we had a saying “Loose lips, sink ships!  I think that it applies here!” spoke Doll Man in a stern voice.


“Your debt is great son and may never be repaid, quickly let us adjourn to my home and discuss our options, time is of the essence.” stated Esak to the small group.


As darkness fell over the village, the radiance of oil lamps and candles illuminated the home of Esak.  A small band of young men and women, perhaps fifteen to twenty in number, had been assembled to discuss the matter at hand and to discuss the alternatives they had in fighting the Caliph and rescuing the Freedom Fighters.  This was a rag-tag bunch, not professional soldiers by any means, but those that had been trained by the downfalls of a brutal life.  Those that had been trained by a rifle butt or a lash of the whip and an empty stomach.


“Wotan has to be stopped and my friends must be rescued.” exclaimed Doll Man to the gathered group.  I have six friends that are captured and who knows what else is being done to them, and one friend that has been missing for years and must be found.  I know what you all want of me, but I don’t think that I am the man you want.  If only Firebrand hadn’t been captured.  He is the man you need!”


“That may be true Doll Man, but you are the only one left to us!  You must do as we ask, if you are to ever see your friends, or me my wife, alive again.” spoke Zarek.


“Alright then, I’ll do it.  Not a whole lot of time for me to debate the question.  Now, do we even have any kind of weapons, something other than hand weapons?” Doll Man asked.


To the small house was soon gathered the small pieces, the scavenged parts of a fighting force.  Handmade knives, spears and axes.  Several small arms gathered off of fallen scout parties of the Caliph, and even some rifles and explosives.  Lastly, a couple of what appeared to Doll Man to be mortar launchers, launchers that fired a small plasma charge similar to the rifles and pistols, only with a much greater wallop. 




“Everyone gather here in the morning just before dawn.  Your training will begin then.  Now, show me the layout of this palace once again Esak.  Show me what you think is the best way to enter the palace?” asked Darrell Dane.


The two men worked diligently into the night, working on a plan to rescue the Freedom Fighters.  It seemed that Esak was still very familiar with the interior of the Palace and with all good citadels several of the rooms had hidden passages connecting them.  Secret entrances from one section of the palace to the other and Esak knew where they were all located.  A few hours before dawn, Darrell Dane and Esak had come up with a rudimentary plan, a plan born of desperation and fed on hope.  When was all finished, Doll Man lay down in the meeting room in a vain attempt to get a few hours rest before the next days rough training would begin, a rest that would be very sporadic and unsatisfying to say the least.


“If only Rod were here to train these kids, my military training is very limited.  Most of my Army time during WWII was spent in research facilities at Montauk Point in New York.  If Uncle Sam were here, he would know what to do and how to go about it.  I guess, I could lay here and wish my life away, but it wouldn’t do me any good.  Martha, I really need your strength now, seems your Darrell may have bitten off more than he can chew.” he mumbled in his anxiety.


Interlude _______________________________________________________________


Back on Earth, in the modest New York City apartment of retired NYPD officer Chuck Lane AKA the Jester, Chuck was flipping through the television channels looking for something to take his depressed mind and dejected heart off of his worldly woes.  Suddenly he caught a glimpse of something that made him sit up and take notice.  Something on one of his favorite mid-afternoon talk shows, a show about racial intolerance and hatred.  A show featuring several hate groups and neo-Nazis spreading their message of hate and doom.  Something about one of the groups seemed familiar to Chuck Lane.  Moving his wheel chair a little closer to the screen, he could just make out a few emblems on some of the hate-mongers uniforms.  Emblems that definitely belonged to “The Black Legion.”


In the dark and dreary halls of the palace of the Caliph, Wotan was tapping on his cherished amulet with his long green fingers, contemplating what he would do to his captured enemies.  Out from behind his bejeweled throne came a voice;  “Excuse me my Master, might I have a brief word with you?” begged Mersufon.


“What?  Oh, but of course my loyal Grand Vizier!” replied Wotan.


“Master, I was wondering what was to be the fate of our enemies?” he mumbled to the Caliph.


“They are going to die of course my friend, but the question is how?” replied the green-skinned scoundrel to his lackey. 


“Master, I was wondering if you would grant me a favor?” he asked.


“Oh, what is it then you churl, I have important matters on my mind?  Out with IT!” yelled Wotan getting tired of the conversation.


“I was hoping that you, in your immense wisdom, could see fit not to kill the one they call Phantom Lady.  I was wondering if, I might have her, that is if you, my dear master didn’t want her?” replied the gnarled man dressed in black robes.


“So, she has bewitched you eh?  Bewitched you with her evil beauty.” responded Wotan with a half smile, “Bewitched you with her wretched splendor!”


“Yes, my Lord and Master!” was the response of the Grand Vizier.


“Hmmm?” thought Wotan.  “How deliciously fitting for one, such as Phantom Lady to be trapped with one such as Mersufon!  A fate worse than death itself.”  Laughing to himself he spoke, “Of course my apprentice, have her as your own!”


“Thank you, Master!” responded Mersufon with glee on his thin, repulsive face.  “I will finish working on that magnificent machine of yours tonight and tomorrow evening, I will have her prepared and brought to my chambers.” 


Back in the village, the morning had come all too early for Darrell Dane and the young warriors at his control were now anxious to begin their training.  Training for these “soldiers” was long and tedious.  Many hours, of intense hand-to-hand training, were spent that morning and then by that afternoon, Darrell Dane was trying to rely upon his memory to train them in the ways of military tactics and maneuvers on the field of battle.  Things that he hadn’t had to remember, in this manner, since the early days of World War II. 


As the light of the setting sun left the band of trainees, Esak approached Doll Man and asked, “How goes the training my friend?”


“Well, not to bad actually.” replied Darrell.  “Several of the older ones are very good at hand-to-hand combat and subterfuge, and are training the others in those areas.  Your oldest son, as bad as I hate to admit it, is a natural born leader and the younger one is a very talented slight-of-hand artist.  I still have my work cut out for me though, when it comes to the advanced weapons.”


“They have to be good at it my small friend!” responded the wise man.  “Many have had to steal to eat, a very sad end of a very proud people!”


“Very sad, I agree!” Darrell Dane said hanging his head low and kicking the dirt below.  “I figure, I have about two days at best to get them prepared for the mission!”


“Yes, any longer and the chance of survival for your comrades would be next to nothing!” stated Esak.


“Well, I will go on training them up into the night on the lay out of the palace that you have given us!  I can only hope and pray that we’ll be ready!” Darrell Dane replied.


“I pray with you.” spoke the meek Esak.


That evening at dusk, back at the palace of the Caliph, a twisted and dark figure awaited the entrance of one, Sandra Knight AKA Phantom Lady into his tower.  His pulse quickened as he heard the footsteps of the guards and of his anticipated quest.  “Bring the lovely one in!” he yelled to the sergeant of the guard.  “Bring her in and then leave!”


Opening the heavy door and then brushing back the curtains, the guards escorted our Phantom Lady into the tower of the Grand Vizier, Mersufon.  As he turned in his heavy, black cloak to look upon her beauty, he saw a vision of utter loveliness.  Long black, flowing tresses of raven hair caressed a buxom body of alabaster that was covered in a silky, shimmering, golden gown studded with shining gems.  The only thing distinguishing her from a noble princess were the ankle chains binding her feet.  Speaking from behind a golden veil, she asked, “What do you want with me, Mersufon?” 


“Why, my dear, merely to look upon your radiance is all.” he whispered as he walked across his chambers to greet her.  “For you are the most beautiful creature that I have ever seen, and I only want to be in your presence for a few moments.”  Pouring them both a goblet of wine, he approached our heroine. “Here, my dear, drink!” he cackled.


Taking the goblet from the long, spindly hands, Phantom Lady thought about what she should do.  Her thoughts turned to her teammates, who she hadn’t seen since the day before and to what unseen tortures they were facing.  “A cautious question and answer session was called for.” she thought.  “Maybe he’ll tell more than he should!”


Raising his goblet, Mersufon made a most unentertaining toast.  “To US my lovely one, to us!” he spoke as he drank the blood red drink.  She too raised the glass and then took a small sip while she stared at this little, twisted man.  Mersufon then approached Phantom Lady and grabbing her with his thin, cold hands, sat her on the edge of a large round bed covered by pillows and surrounded by whisper thin curtains.  A warm gentle breeze coming from the outside of the tower, blew the ethereal curtains back and over the heads of the two.


“I am sorry,” she spoke with tears in her eyes, “but I can’t relax thinking about what has happened to my friends.”


“Oh, my dear.  They are being kept in a very safe place in the Caliph’s lower halls, until he decides what to do with them.  I don’t think, whatever the outcome is, it will be too pleasant for your compatriots.” he whispered.  “The Master is very intent on their utter destruction, but not before he lets them see his plan come to fruition.”


Feigning interest in Mersufon, Phantom Lady continued to sip her wine and allowed him to loosen up, on the hopes that it would also loosen his tongue.  Mersufon quickly finished his second glass of wine, before he said “Don’t worry my sweet, I will never let anything happen to you!  I will protect you!” 


“Oh, that I am glad of!” she cried.  “I couldn’t bear to be cooped up in some dark, dreary, cramped dungeon!” 


“Well, the lower hall isn’t what you would call a regular dungeon!” revealed Mersufon.  “It is a large great hall deep within the bowels of this palace where the master keeps his massive machine!”


“Machine?” responded Phantom Lady


“Oh, yes.” retorted Mersufon.  “His gigantic interdimensional transporter is a machine capable of sending hundreds, if not thousands of people from one dimension to another.  It is a terrible, monolithic engine, not science based wholly, but a combination of the Master’s scientific expertise and his knowledge of the mystic arts as well.”  Pouring another glass of wine, Mersufon continued, “The Master is very anxious to put his device to its proper use.”


Scooting very close now to the vile minion of Wotan, Phantom Lady undid her veil and began to talk in low, sweet whispers as she stroked the cheek of Mersufon.  “Tell me, my love,” she asked, “what does he plan on doing with the machine?”


“Do?  Why my sweet, he plans on using it to transport legions of his shock troopers to your homeworld and become its ruler of course!” answered the Grand Vizier.  “A glorious war, WAR!”


The shock of hearing this news is almost too much to bear as Phantom Lady turned her head towards the wall, choking back a tear.  “I must learn as much about this device as possible and also about where the rest of the team is being held.  I must free them immediately.” she thought to herself. 


Quickly turning back towards the gnarled little man dressed in black rags she asked “Such a machine must drain a lot of power, where here does he get it?”


“Ah, my dear Phantom Lady, why from all around of course!  Why do you think that this once luscious land is now barren and turning into a desert wasteland?  The machine drains “life energy” from the surroundings and from “other” sources.” he spoke while draining his goblet.

“Being a creature of the sciences,” she whispered to Mersufon, “that is simply a sight that I would love to see!  Would you show me?” she asked.


“Well, I really shouldn’t, but such a sweet delicate flower as you, I wouldn’t dream would give me too much trouble, now would you?” replied the evil, half-drunken man as he placed his hand upon Sandra Knights thigh. 


Moments later, the two slowly descended a secret stone stairway into the very bowels of this once regal palace.  Torches lit the way and Mersufon led Phantom Lady, one hand on hers and another on the wine decanter.  Through cobwebs and dusty corridors they trekked, until at last the narrow passages opened into a huge, dimly lit room. 

Treading on a wide and long walkway high above, Phantom Lady was amazed to see a massive machine of gyros and gears at one end of the enormous hall.  As she stared at the massive, dark apparatus an overwhelming since of foreboding and fear washed over her.  It was like looking into the eye of a hurricane or perhaps into the abyss itself!  The ominous mechanism seemed to be controlled from the walkway by a large control panel.


“Simply, a marvel, eh?” Mersufon mumbled, his mouth full of wine.


“Yes, I agree, a marvel!” responded Phantom Lady, standing next to the control panel.  As she gazed at the panel of knobs, lights and other assorted devices trying to make heads or tails of the madness, her keen mind trying to understand the workings of the device, she became confused.  “How can this device actually be working?” she thought.  “This is impossible!”


“Yes, my dear, a real marvel!” he mumbled in his now slurring speech.  “Not altogether mechanical or altogether magical!”


As she stood in amazement, from behind she could feel his hot breath on her shoulder; she could sense this evil man sniffing her ebony hair.  He touched her on the arm and it sent cold shivers down her spine.  Turning to face Mersufon, Sandra Knight’s heart started beating and she could feel the adrenaline surge through her veins.  She could see in his eyes, his intentions.  She had reached her “breaking point” and this was definitely more than she could bear!


“My dear, would you do me the honor of giving me a kiss?” he whispered, intoxicatedly.


“Come closer, my lovely Mersufon.” she replied.


As the sickly, pale skinned, hunched man leaned up and over to receive his gift, he is surprised by a long, roundhouse right hand that strikes him clean in the temple. 


“Aarrggghhhh!” he cried aloud as he is knocked across the width of the walkway and strikes the stone wall with a thud!


“You keep your slimy, nasty hands to yourself!” yelled Phantom Lady as she lunged towards the downed villain.  “I wouldn’t kiss you to give you CPR!”  Snatching the fallen wine decanter up from the catwalk, Phantom Lady moved in for another attack.  With a wicked backhand, she struck the fallen foe across the left cheek with the bottle!  Crasshhhh!  The bottle struck with full ferocity and sliced open the thin, hideous individual.  Shivers of the broken glass dug into his face!


“NO” he cried.  “STOP!”


Dropping the remnants of the broken decanter; she hurled herself at Mersufon, teeth gritted, ready to deal him a well-placed punch.  As she neared him, a powerful force struck her face-front and sent her flying back to the bottom of the stairway.  Sliding to a stop at the bottom step, she slowly rose to her feet.  Taking down a burning torch off of the front wall, Phantom Lady moved in to incapacitate the cringing, grotesque creature.


“That is but a small sample of my power whore!” he screamed at her.  “I will kill you where you stand!”


“Oh, yeah!  You and whose army?!” cried Sandra Knight as she charged toward him.


Suddenly, out of nowhere, she was “snatched up” in a powerful invisible grip!  Squeezed and held aloft by an invisible hand, she soon discovered that her air supply had been cut off.  The force was so powerful that she simply couldn’t breathe or move.  Phantom Lady gasped and struggled to draw in, even enough breath to live.


“Me and MY ARMY!  You unappreciative wench!” a voice spoke from the shadowed stairwell.


“Oh, Master,” cried Mersufon, “don’t kill her just yet, wait until…”


“SILENCE!  You cowering dog!  If you weren’t so important to my master plan, I would kill you were you stand.  Instead, I will allow you to live!  Live with the scar that this lovely temptress has not only put on your repulsive face, but your scurvy little heart!  Begone from my sight and tend to your deep wounds, while I SHOW our little beast here something of interest.”


Mersufon quickly scurried away like vermin and Wotan approached our captive, feminine fury!  Taking his wretched hand, he stroked the convulsing Sandra Knight’s cheek and began to speak.


“Yes, dearest Phantom Lady!  Allow me to show you something very…interesting indeed!”


With a gesture, a switch was thrown in the great hall and Phantom Lady heard a familiar hum.  The hum was that of electrical lights!  As the lights come on, she was astonished to see that the room below was much larger than even she had imagined.  Turning her head back around, she was even more shocked to see her once powerful friends, at the far end of the elevated walkway, on a stand trussed up by large metallic bands.  Metallic bands, several inches wide and thick, grasping their hands and feet and encircling their throats.  She noticed that they look very weary and frail, and at most semi-conscious.


“Tsk, tsk, tsk.  Don’t fret my lovely, you will be joining them very soon, I can assure you!  You have humbled my assistant with your wily ways, but you will not be able to do so with me.  I am quite beyond your prancing and prattling and your pulchritudinous behavior.  Look upon the weary, tortured and weak faces of your fellow teammates and despair!” he gloated with the face of a devil. ________________________________________________________________________


As dawn broke at the village, Darrell Dane was putting his raw recruits through their paces.  During the final day of training they were drilled in the firing of their gathered weapons, both heavy and light.  The training went smoothly enough and Zarek approached Doll Man.


“Sir, I must speak with you about my actions the other day!” he asked as he stared at the Mini-Marvel.


“Well, shoot and get if off of your chest!” Darrell Dane responded.


“Sir…?” asked Zarek.


“Ah, just go ahead!” snickered Doll Man.


“Well, Sir, nothing I say can or do will change your mind about me.  However, I must say that I did, what I thought I must do, to get back my lovely wife.  I know that it wasn’t right and I am terribly sorry!  Haven’t you ever done something for the love of a woman that later caused you trouble?” asked Zarek.


“I have indeed, Zarek, I have indeed!”  With a smile on his face, Darrell Dane continued.  “Look, you are a natural born leader and the soldiers here look up to you!  You must use those skills that you have and lead your people out of the bondage of slavery and misery.  When we attack at daybreak tomorrow, you Zarek will lead this team!  We must not fail, or all is lost!”


“I won’t let you down again, I swear!” replied the young man.


In the evening the rescue team is gathered for one last planning session and they were drilled on the pending assault on the palace.  Drilled, until they were all familiar with their jobs and the task at hand.  By late that night, they were ready!



In the castle of the Caliph, the candles also burned brightly.


“Mersufon, my scarred cur, all is in readiness for our assault on my old homeworld!  Earth will be mine!  With the Freedom Fighters all powerless below and my armies gathering for the invasion, nothing can stop me!”

“No, Master, nothing can stop you and your beautiful wickedness!
  Your legions have all been gathered from around the kingdom and are resting below in the great hall, awaiting the assault to begin.  Oh, it will be a glorious day for you, evil one!  And, of course, beside you as always will be your most humble servant.”


“Um, yes!  Of course! Wotan laughed heartily and rubbed his fingers over his prized amulet.  “Let us retire now Vizier, for tomorrow we INVADE!”




To be concluded in issue #4.


Freedom Fanmail



Hello and welcome to the end of issue #3.  I must confess to you all that I have been suffering from a little writer’s lag lately.  That and the Christmas hullabaloo have kept me kind of running around “like a chicken with it’s head cutoff!”


Now a few letters, Lady Obie writes:


Part 2 was awesome :-D!!!


Thanks!  I really have loved writing this series so far.  These are really great characters and need to be given a chance by DC again.


 I couldn't guess who the baddie was so I'm eagerly awaiting part 3 to find out :-)!! Thank you for sending it to me!!


No problem there Lady O!  I was most appreciative of your help and the help of several other comic buffs on Yahoo! at the Justice Society Appreciation Association or the JSAAA.  It’s a great place to hang out and a great bunch of people to discuss Golden Age characters with.  All I can say is, “Hang on!  The best is yet to come!”


Christopher Robinson writes:


  I really appreciate the advance copy of the
 story. I was very much taken with things there and
 enjoyed it.

You're welcome Chris! Glad that you liked issue #2, and I agree that it was
rather slow paced, but I felt that it needed to be to introduce these
"other-dimensional" characters that will be so important to the rest of the
story. Also I feel that there is a natural "let down" after the big intro
issue. Heck, you are just so doggone happy to have the team back together
that it would be fun if they were just gathered around a table having

dinner. After that, an average, slower paced tale can't be as good.

But I was hoping to see the team more
 worried about their loss of abilities and curious to
 explore Condor's apparent UN-LOSS of his.

Well, I felt that Happy Terrill was very concerned about his loss, and Roy
Lincoln was happily surprised about his, but they were both satisfied with
Doll Man and Phantom Ladies explanation.

 The pacing of this one was not as good as the first
 one, and I felt it actually dragged. A recap of the
 purposes (perhaps the Phantom Stranger telling Plas)
 would be in order.

 Agreed, probably have a few sentence re-intro in issue #4.

 Additionally, the desert should have
 been an ALTERNATE America. One where democracy never
 flourished because of the despots holding the city.

As far as the desert dimension goes, it was
mainly created just to show the reader what an immense evil influence can do
to the land and the people. Sort of the old "Fisher King" or "King Arthur"
type setup. The king and land are one! Once the land was green and fertile
but now is barren and almost a wasteland.

 I wonder where the story is going--and can't wait for
 the next installment. Hopefully, the pace will pick
 up and we'll see heroes and heroines battling, despite
 having any powers of their own. Sorry--Issue
 two was not as good as one. I just hope that 3 and 4
 are faster and more action packed.

I think that the pace will definitely pick up the closer you get to issue#4.
I hope you all were satisfied with the fight scene at the end of #2? I know it was
certainly rushed, but it was really my first fight scene.

 (Do you remember Shadow War of the Hawkman? The
 closing splash page of issue one still haunts me.
 Tony Isabella laughed when I told him that--but agreed
 that it was done to pull me into the next issue. You
 need a grabber like that)

I thought I had one?! Case in point, the scene at the end of issue#2 where
Phantom Lady is brought in front of the evil Caliph sitting on his throne
laughing. She recognizes him and he her. Tense enough for you?

 Hope this was helpful and not critical--Zammo!

Not too critical at all. As a matter of fact, I love the responses. Tells
me what the typical reader likes and dislikes. Keep it coming pal!
Thanks again and can't wait to get your response to

Thanks to all that have written in, and keep those letters and comments coming.   I know that there were several others that wrote in, but I lost your letters due to a computer crash.  If you will resubmit your letters, I promise you they will be read, answered and greatly appreciated.


Now, as promised, I would like to just take a few minutes to talk to you about “aging” and the effects of the presence of Uncle Sam on the Freedom Fighters. 


Quite simply, my take on their aging is just this.  Of course this is all purely hypothetical on my part, but if Sandra Knight AKA Phantom Lady were 18 years old in 1940, then chronologically she would now be a septuagenarian.  However, if you allow that by merely being in the presence of Uncle Sam (on and off again) from 1940 until roughly 1974 she wouldn’t have aged (if she did it was very, very slowly) physically then by 1999 she is still quite young and vibrant.  That would put her actually looking and feeling like she was in her early 40’s now.  Let’s do the math:


18 (actual age at time of meeting Uncle Sam)

25 (years that have went by since Uncle Sam disappeared)

43 physical years old, 73 actual, chronological years old


See, Phantom Lady is still pretty hot in those yellow tights!  It’s really simple once you think about it.  Of course those that didn’t stay around Uncle Sam for a great length of time, would have aged at a different rate.  Gee, wouldn’t it have been great if DC had used this for the Justice Society and other Golden Age characters?  You heard it hear first folks!


I hope that this does explain a few things to you about the aging process that I am using here in my storylines. 


Thanks again for everything!  And don’t miss out on reading issue #4!


Keep ‘em Flying,






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