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Air Force Two
(continued) By Michael Hutchison Illustrations by Kurt Belcher If, at any point, you are confused (or offended) by this story, feel free to read my notes on it. Beware, these do contain some spoilers for the story. Al Gore and his wife Tipper were seated, handcuffed back to back, in Air Force Two's conference room. The two of them were being guarded by a dark figure carrying a briefcase. At least, he watched them constantly from a chair across the room…but there was one of his henchmen with an Uzi at the door. Why would there be two guards? The man wore a dark cloak and a wide-brimmed black hat that hid his face. His eyes were lost to shadow, but his chin appeared to be very pasty-skinned. There was something about him that Al thought was familiar, but he couldn't place his finger on it. "Honey?" Al asked, twisting his neck. "How are you? You doing all right?" "I'm fine," Tipper said, trying not to cry. Actually, she was more weary than afraid. They'd been in this room for over an hour, and the two of them were the only ones speaking. The man in black did not seem to mind, but he wouldn't talk, either. He continued to observe them, his gaze never wavering from the Vice President. "Look…" Al said, trying once again to get their captor speaking, "what IS this about? Why won't someone at least explain what it is you want?" "Presently, we've no idea what they want," Waller concluded, after explaining the plan. Behind her were satellite photos and computer simulations of the runaway Air Force Two and the strange tube that encircled the globe. She had a few schematics of her plan appearing on two monitors. All of the team except for the Flash were presently absorbing the data onscreen. "It doesn't really matter why they're doing it. We can find that out after they're in custody," The Atom said from the second row. "Well, I don't know how you did things in the old Justice League, but in my Suicide Squad we try to know as much as we possibly can before going in. I'll be quite honest with you, I'm stumped…and I'm about as politically savvy as anyone this side of Dennis Miller. It just doesn't make any sense. It's not an assassination attempt, or it'd be over by now. It's not a hostage or ransom situation, because they have no way to make demands…unless it's some incompetent group like the Injustice League who didn't think things through and are now stuck in this tube with no way to communicate to the outside world. That is an outside possibility, I suppose. It could be a more complex plot related to Clinton's impeachment, but that's a ways away from being over, one way or the other. 'Course, that's logic talking; the terrorists may be thinking differently." Blue Beetle spoke up, "How could this hijacking have anything to do with that? What would be the point of attacking the veep?" Amanda sensed that Beetle's genius did not lie in poli sci, as hers did. "Beetlebutt, I can think of a dozen scenarios if we were closer to the breaking point on this impeachment thing. If Clinton had resigned yesterday, they could kill Gore and then the Speaker of the House would be president. But eliminating or incapacitating Al Gore now won't do anything except open the door for a new Democrat Vice President, which means the Republicans or interested right-wing groups aren't likely to be behind it. Well, maybe automotive companies or polluting industries who specifically dislike Al Gore. Still, even a President Gore is not a big enough threat for them to take this kind of action," Amanda said, lecturing and thinking out loud at the same time. "It's something else. I think we can all agree that Al Gore isn't the charismatic that Bill Clinton is. Could be some militant left-wing group trying to orchestrate the swearing in of a candidate whose politics are different or whose influence on the public is stronger." Amanda looked at Blue Beetle and made another connection. "It could even be someone trying to brainwash the Veep, which would require some private time with the man and could explain this sequestered plane. Whatever it is, the field of suspects is wide open on this, but I think the most likely cause is that someone wants to control or prevent Al Gore's time as President before the year 2000." "Oh, come on!" Beetle said, rolling his eyes, "I think you're letting your eagerness to see Clinton gone color your perceptions of this! Clinton's not going to get thrown out over some marital infidelities!" Amanda stared Beetle down until he sat still again. "Beetle, you're wrong on a lot of things, including my views of Clinton. He's a lying, devious, media-savvy manipulator who has the arrogance to think that he's the only person in the world who can occupy the office." Nightshade was shocked. "I thought you liked Bill Clinton?" Amanda smiled her scary smile, "Those ARE the things I like about Bill Clinton! Look, we all know his polls are high, and we all know that Washington cuts deals all the time, so he may pull some miracle out of his butt the same way he has many times before. He's already gotten away with crimes that once put lesser politicians in prison. But I don't think even he can dodge all this stuff. Maybe my views are biased, Beetle, but if anything it's because I did a year in prison for just one count of perjury!" Amanda Waller turned her back to Blue Beetle. "Some things just get my hackles up. This may surprise you, but I happen to believe that we're all equal before the law. I've broken a lot of laws in my time. Doesn't mean I don't still respect them. I had my reasons for lying to Congress, but when they caught me I was a little glad that even I wasn't above the law. The world made a little more sense then." Amanda turned back and stared at Beetle, apologetic in tone if not in words. "You're right, blue boy. Clinton getting impeached or resigning isn't a sure thing. Even if it was, it'd take a lot of political foresight on the part of the terrorists to anticipate it. Supervillains usually go for sure things, not vague chances of some future political payoff." The Flash entered the room, his costume covered in dirt and grease. "I've finished installing the treadmill in the Bug. I have no clue if this is going to work, but we're as ready as we're gonna get." Amanda pointed to a spare seat, which Flash occupied by the time her finger was aiming at it. "Okay people, one last time. The Bug will draw from Flash's 'Speed Force' to achieve a synchronous flight speed alongside Air Force Two. Once that's achieved, Nightshade gets a lock on a deserted part of the plane, if possible, and creates a dimensional doorway from the Bug to the plane. Nightshade, Nemesis, Deadshot, The Atom and Elongated Man board the plane while the Bug returns to normal speed. They'll standby for a pickup, if needs be. Nightshade, Elongated Man and Atom can move pretty freely about the plane, while Deadshot hides and waits for your signal. Nemesis will either try to disguise himself to recon or he'll wait with Deadshot. With me so far?" Everyone nodded except Blue Beetle, who shook his head. Waller ignored him and continued, "First priority is to find Al Gore and secure him. Secondly, secure the safety of the pilots. Third, take out all terrorists aboard. Fourth, bring the plane back to normal speed and touch down at the nearest friendly base or airport. Since there's no radio communication through the warp field, just go to a window and wave to Superman if you need to talk with us. He'll see you and you can hold a message up to where he can see it. Then he can relay the message or take whatever action you need." Elongated Man spoke up. "Er…how, exactly, do we return the plane to normal speed if the woman on the outside controls the field, as we suspect. None of us can fly or even get outside the plane." Amanda was already ushering them out the door as she said, "Most likely, she's in communication with the people inside. If not, you'll think of something. Superman and Captain Atom can help, I'm sure." As Deadshot ambled out, Amanda tapped him on the shoulder to say, "Look, Lawton, I've learned from experience that I've got to be very specific with you, so here goes: Don't kill or maim Al Gore. Don't kill or maim Tipper Gore. Don't kill any of your teammates. Don't kill or maim any reporters, staff members, Secret Service agents or any other 'good guys'. Don't cause Air Force Two to explode or be destroyed in any other manner. Is there anything I'm forgetting that may cause you to kill someone and then come back at me with, 'Well, you didn't say not to!'?" Deadshot's face was as unreadable as always. "Not that I can think of. Oh, pilots." "Yes, don't kill the pilots." "You don't think I'd really kill the people who keep the plane in the air while I'm on it!? You think I'm crazy?" Amanda could not think of a response to that remark. Deadshot left the room. Blue Beetle's Bug rested on the roof of S.T.A.R. Labs in downtown New York. The Bug was an enormous vehicle, streamlined oval in design. Six metal support legs gingerly held it in position for launch. Flood lights, beacons and the glow from its domed 'eyes' lit the surrounding roof. The Flash had run ahead and was waiting for the team when they arrived fresh from the company teleporters. Blue Beetle jogged ahead of the others, suddenly all business. Beetle was a joking genius whose attempts at comedy often fooled people into forgetting that his engineering skills were nothing less than brilliant. "You wired the cosmic treadmill into the framework of the Bug like we discussed?" he asked the Flash. Ted "Blue Beetle" Kord didn't trust mechanical work done so fast, even if it was done by a man who could fall asleep waiting for a bullet to escape a gun's chamber. "I didn't harm your precious Bug. I may not be a scientist like Barry was, but I know how to use a wrench, for God's sake!" Flash said, racing up the hatch into the Bug. Several years since it first appeared, Blue Beetle's Bug was still a crowning achievement in aerospace vehicles. Operating on antigravity and magnetic propulsion, it was capable of hovering, remote controlled flight, grappling, responsive maneuvering…and airspeeds that a vehicle of its configuration shouldn't be able to reach within an atmosphere. The latter trick was accomplished via a low-impact force field that extended far ahead of the ship like a wedge and spread the wind away. The field couldn't stop objects from impacting on it, but it was enough to increase the Bug's speed significantly. Blue Beetle entered and inspected the arrangement. In the center of his beautiful ship was a strange device that looked like a treadmill, except that the running surface was flat as a pancake. The treadmill was bolted to the floor in several places had ten struts extending from it to the roof and walls. "Huh," Beetle said, as the others boarded and took their seats, "so this is the famous Cosmic Treadmill that Barry Allen used to travel in time." "Technically, it's not. That's deactivated in the Flash Museum in Central City," Flash said, getting in the center of it to demonstrate as he talked. "This is just a prototype running board. See, before Barry could devise a way for the treadmill to configure his internal vibrations to send him to a specific time, he had to build a running surface. A plain old treadmill would burn out its wheels and gears. With the tech support of some scientists who were just developing force field technologies, he created this 'treadmill.' It's actually a flat force field, projected an inch above the surface, which doesn't give enough traction to move forward. Since I'm not planning to move through time, I figured I'd just dig out the prototype that Jay Garrick was hanging onto for me. It seems to work just fine." "Good!" Beetle said, turning to leapfrog over the driver's seat and grab the joystick. "We're ready! Strap yourselves in, people. Once we align with the warp shunt, Flash and I are going to push this baby to the limit and it is not going to be a gentle ride." He reached behind the fuzzy dice to press a ceiling switch, closing the hatch. He checked every instrument one last time and beat out an excited rhythm on the dashboard. It had been a while since he'd been in some serious action, and it was thrilling to be part of a team again. Even a makeshift team, he thought. He noticed that his rhythms had knocked over the glow-in-the-dark Jesus figurine and he quickly set it up straight again. It was time to get down to business. Blue Beetle ignited the maneuvering jets in the Bug's leg struts. The Bug leapt skyward, quickly ascending past the skyscrapers. Free of aerial obstructions, the Bug began a steady acceleration toward the location of Air Force Two's relativity field. "Okay, people, this will take about 30 minutes. The Bug can go faster, but I'd rather not tax the frame excessively right before we try this trick." The Atom whistled from his seat in the back. "You're crossing several states in 30 minutes and you're apologizing? Show off!" Blue Beetle, his back to the team, reclined in his beaded seat cushion and smiled. He batted at one of the red tassels encircling the windshield and watched the beautiful early morning landscape racing below the bug. Through the large "eyes" of the bug he could see cities, cornfields, forests…it was a majestic view that made him want to sing. "Oh, I don't care if it rains or freezes, long as I've got my plastic Jesus, sittin' on the dashboard of my carrrrr…" In the Bug's passenger compartment, the Atom shrank in his seat (not literally) and gritted his teeth. "Does he HAVE to sing?" he asked Elongated Man. "Cuz I'm-a leaaaaa vinnn awn a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again! Oh, baby, I hate to go-oh-oh-oh-oh!" Giggling Gremlin sang, her fingers doodling in the last of the sleet on top of the plane. Since she'd activated the warp tube, there hadn't been any precipitation passing through the tube's field. Every two and a half minutes, they'd pass the planet's terminator and soak up the sun's warmth. It made riding the plane a little more comfortable, although her body had been altered to withstand the temperatures. "Here we go again," she muttered, as the plane approached the daylight side one more time. She was tiring of this. "Here comes the sun, un-dootndoodo, uh-here comes the sun, an' ah say, uh-it's all right, un-doodndit doodndit doodndit doodndit doodndoodoo…" she sang as she rummaged into a pocket and pulled out a pair of oversized, rhinestone-covered sunglasses. They looked good on her, but they were also the only sunglasses she'd found that would shield her huge eyes. She tucked them into her babushka and fixed their balance…then yanked them off when she spotted two small shapes out of the corner of her eye. The murky pink heat trail had kept them hidden, but if she squinted she could just make out their oblong shapes. Too small to be aircraft. They were human. And they kept perfect pace with the plane. "Oh…my…gawd! We are in ter-rubble!" she said, reaching for her communicator. Ralph Dibny was staring at his best friend's old treadmill, lost in thought, when a hand clapped him on the shoulder. "Nemesis!" "What?" Ralph asked, swiveling his head around to look at the blonde man seated behind him. "That's my name. Nemesis. I don't think we've been officially introduced," the man said, extending his hand. "I've met Beetle, although I was lying semi-conscious in a prison cell and we didn't really get to talk. But I haven't met you or the Atom before." Ralph stretched and looped his arm back to shake Nemesis' hand. "Ralph Dibny, the World-Famous Elongated Man, although I'm sure you knew that." The Atom twisted in his flight harness to extend his hand as well. "The Atom, although you can call me Ray Palmer. Everyone knows my I.D., too." Ralph shrugged until his shoulders touched his ears, an overstatement of resignation. "Oh, I tell you, everyone's doing it. I mean, it's nice to start a trend and all, but sometimes I feel like Jennifer Aniston's hairstyle. 'Elongated Man! He's the superhero with the public identity.' 'Yeah, him and a few dozen others.'" Nemesis suppressed the urge to smirk at Ralph's clowning. "If it helps, Ralph, I like my identity nice and private." "Good! That gives me another secret identity to try to figure out," Elongated Man said, rubbing his hands with glee and giving an evil leer. Nightshade was a bit taken aback by that. "Wait, wait wait! You go around trying to figure out other superheroes' real names?" "You bet!" Ralph said, warming to the subject. "I've figured out the identities of most of the superheroes I've met…except for Superman, who doesn't have one. Heck, I once had Green Lantern wipe my memory because he'd told me who he was and spoiled my fun. It isn't really all that hard. You figure out where a person operates, a round figure of how old they are, who could afford and hide the necessary equipment, if any … Then you start on personality, accents, stuff like that. Blue Beetle was really easy, what with that 'what if Mike Ditka played Chandler Bing' accent of his. He actually showed up at the Justice League of America's Secret Sanctuary…this was after we got booted out of Detroit…showed up in his secret identity, trying to pass himself off as not the Blue Beetle. And we'd just worked with him the week before! I tell you, I was laughing inside. He said he had to do some maintenance on the security system, since he was the guy…" "RALPH!" Beetle called from his console, "I may not be the best at hiding my real name, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't blurt it out in front of the supervillain in the corner!" "Hmp, no big deal," Deadshot said while cleaning his wrist Magnums, "it's Ted Kord. That's some of the cheapest information to buy." "WHAT?!!" Blue Beetle shrieked, turning in his seat. "Mm…this guy once offered me $10,000 to kill the Blue Beetle. I consulted this underworld information broker, MetaWise. Got your ID for fifty bucks. Well, actually, it was a package deal. Six IDs for $300…like I really care what Tuatara's real name is. But, see, I'd have to pay my own expenses to fly to Chicago, book a hotel, ride subways… Eh. Wasn't worth it. I asked for more money to kill you and they said you weren't worth it, either." "Hey, I'm totally worth it!" Beetle shouted, straightening in his seat. "That really burns my britches! How dare they not put a price on my head? I demand you shoot me now!" "Shoot 'em!" Bolt said over her communicator. "Use the dang disruption powers we gave ya! Do we have to think of everything?" "Oh sher, chew me out just fer checkin' in with you. And if I did do it first and screwed up, you'd wonder why I hadn't asked you first!" Giggling Gremlin griped. She closed the link and waited for the shadowy figures to come close enough for her to fire. Nightshade tried to get back on track. "I just…I think it's a little disingenuous to act like you're someone's friend while you're analyzing everything about them and, and studying them like an insect under a microscope. That's so devious! That's…" "Eve Eden, right?" Elongated Man interrupted. A chill went down Nightshade's back. "Wh- uh, I beg your pardon…" she muttered, not very convincingly. "Sure! Senator Eden's daughter. We met at the New Year's Eve Ball at the Watergate oh, four, five years ago? You have the exact same voice, plus you twist that one strand of hair by your right ear when you're nervous. Took me a while without the blonde hair, but I'd swear it was you." "Well…you've no proof of that." "Not without kissing you," Elongated Man said with a grin. "You were incredibly drunk and I think you mistook me for your date. You probably don't even remember it, being so sloshed. I, on the other hand, can completely recall the tongue-lashing I got from Sue when she saw you. Thanks a lot, by the way!" "I…" Nightshade's pale skin made her blushing too obvious to hide. "I was a different person back then. Sorry. But you…you couldn't have figured me out just from the voice and one habit!" "Well, that and something else. Waller mentioned 'sending a compromised agent into the field.' I caught that because I thought she meant me…until she mentioned Senator Eden vying for the Democratic nomination in 2000. If you're his daughter, letting Al Gore die would increase daddy's odds of becoming the nominee, thus bettering Democrat chances against Bush Junior." Nemesis raised an angry finger to Ralph's face and glared. "If you're suggesting that she'll do any less than her job…" Two rubbery hands popped up by Ralph's head, waving frantically, as he said, "Nonononono! That's just what Waller must be thinking. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult your wife!" "Whuh-? We're not married! I just don't like you picking on her, that's all," Nemesis said, his anger derailed. "Oh. Excuse me," Ralph said, slinking back into his seat, "I can usually tell when a couple's married, and you two give all the signs. I…geez, I'm sorry." Nemesis glanced at Nightshade, who refused to make eye contact. Instead, she leaned forward and tapped Elongated Man's shoulder to ask, "Why would you be compromised? Ralph? You said you might be compromised. Why?" Ralph sheepishly explained about the Molder alter ego and the syringe the Flash carried. "Oh, right!" Wally exclaimed, retrieving the serum. "Hey Ralph, someone else will have to handle this. I won't be joining you on the plane." Nightshade examined the syringe. "If the job involves stabbing Elongated Man, I'll take it," she volunteered, shooting a dirty look at Ralph. Ralph uncomfortably tugged at the neck of his costume and gulped. "Seriously, I'm probably the only one who can get close to Ralph if he goes nuts and starts melting things," she said, tucking the syringe into her belt. "Ralph! Flash! There's someone here I think would like to say 'hi-ski'!" Blue Beetle called. Ralph stretched his neck up to the front compartment while Flash raced . Beetle swiveled his chair to reveal the face of Rocket Red on the main monitor. "Dmitri!" they said, in unison. "Flash! How good to see you again!" Dmitri exclaimed. He smiled his big grin, revealing his missing front tooth, but it didn't hide the pain he was in. Though the picture was a close-up of his face, it was obvious that he was lying in a hospital bed. "Ah, and friend Ralph! Long time no seeing, as you say. How is Sue?" "Sadly, she's naked, nubile and half a world away," Ralph quipped, wiggling his ears. He always shifted into 'entertainer' mode when talking to people in hospitals. "How's your wife?" "Sadly, she's fully-dressed, frigid and sitting right next to—OW!" Dmitri exclaimed as a hand gently slapped him. A woman's giggles could be heard off-camera. "Captain Atom went out of his way to drop me off at my family hospital so that I could be with my wife. I'm beginning to think he has it in for me. But I tease, of course." Blue Beetle leaned over to the Flash to whisper, "Ever notice how much Dmitri is like an Eastern Bloc version of Ralph?" Flash snickered. "I'm feeling much better," Dmitri continued. "I was more stunned than injured. My government is asking me to try again without venturing into the field if I'm able to get back on my feet. They say they won't tolerate this violation of Russian airspace and…" "Tell them they're full of borscht!" Blue Beetle interrupted. "You're in no condition to intervene, even if you could do anything. Besides, we've got a plan." "You don't understand, my friend. The Rocket Red Brigade is being dismantled and I have finished my time with them, but I still must respond. The armor I wear is my own, not my government's, but they constantly threaten to take it from me. They say it's theirs because my original multi-million dollar suit was destroyed by Lobo while I was responsible for it. If I do not do this, they may once again try to appropriate it and give it to someone else who may be more nationalistic or a military hardliner." Dmitri got closer to the screen and whispered, "I cannot risk the suit falling into the wrong hands…and in my country, the wrong hands are currently the government's hands. Also, my involvement in trying to stop the incursion may keep our military from trying to destroy this vehicle through other means." Elongated Man's nose twitched at that. "Dmitri…does your government know what that vehicle is?" Giggling Gremlin hummed some baseball diamond organ music as she stepped up to the "mound" at the front of the plane. She put her hands over her eyes to see the placement of the two figures flying just outside the relativity field. When she finally had them lined up, she shook her head, shook her head, then nodded to the catcher and reared back in an exaggerated wind-up. "There's the wind-up…and the pitch!" she shouted, as a watermelon-sized sphere of energy shot from her right hand. It sped to the edge of the field…and vanished. The figures on the other side didn't even react to it. She abandoned the tomfoolery and fired another energy ball at the field. It vanished also. One more time, she drew as much energy as possible into her arm and fired the ball as fast as she could. It traveled in a straight line until it passed through the field. This time, she could just make it out as it made a sharp arc away from her targets. Had Gigi known more about physics and geometry, she would have understood that the energy spheres needed to cross the distance almost instantly to have any chance of hitting Superman and Captain Atom. Inside the field, the plane was traveling at 450 miles an hour. Outside the field, the superheroes were traveling no less than 80 miles every second! After some thought, Gigi decided to aim ahead of the targets in hopes that they'd fly into the ball of energy. Blue Beetle removed his headset after a private argument with Amanda Waller and said several very non-superheroic words. Onscreen, the muted picture of Dmitri awaited their return. He turned his back to the screen and informed the others. "Waller says that the Russians aren't being told the nature of the vehicle because it would 'compromise national security' unquote." "That's ridiculous!" Flash exclaimed, throwing up his hands. "How will American National Security be helped if the Russians shoot down the Vice President?" "She's not thrilled with it but the decision isn't hers. The fact remains: we can't tell Dmitri." Now Ralph was mad and he wrenched the rest of his torso up to the cabin just so he could put his hands on his hips. "Dmitri is our friend and colleague! We trusted him time and again with our lives! Now we're supposed to lie to him? To let him go into action without some crucial information? Come on, you know that's not right!" "IF we tell Dmitri, you know he'll inform his government and right now, the American government wants this kept an internal matter. They can't let others know that there are ways to circumvent the security of the Secret Service and what those means might be! At least, that's what our government says." Ralph couldn't argue with that at the moment. He dropped his eyes to the floor (not literally) and wondered aloud, "What are we going to say to Dmitri?" Blue Beetle made his decision. "I'll tell him that it's an important airliner full of people and we're trying to bring it down peaceably. And that the plane is American and shooting it down would be a huge mistake. That's all true and should be enough for the Russians." Captain Atom and Superman were deep into a conversation about tactics when a large blue ball of energy emerged from the field several thousand feet ahead of them. It had no sooner appeared than it seemed to hang in the air as they shot past it. Superman looked behind them and could see that it was actually moving horizontally, albeit very slowly. "Huh," he observed. "What the heck was that?" Captain Atom asked over the headset. "An attack of some sort. That skinny woman in the babushka has changed position. I guess she's noticed us." "Are we in any danger?" asked Captain Atom. "Not unless she can change her attack. I think she's firing at us, but there's no way she can hit us like that." There was silence for several minutes in the Bug, as each member prepared for the mission. Nightshade quietly prayed to the Virgin Mary for guidance and peace, steeling her soul for the risky attempt to link up with the plane. Nemesis put on a base coat of makeup so that he'd be ready to disguise himself in moments once they boarded. Deadshot loaded his guns. Flash attached a series of electrode pads to his body, the wires running from his body to the treadmill to a device on the wall that would, in theory, channel his "Speed Force" to the rest of the Bug. "Two minutes, people! Please put your trays in an upright and locked position," Blue Beetle said as the Bug neared their destination. He reached into a compartment above his head and removed a fighter pilot's oxygen mask. It was customized and color-coordinated to mesh with the lower half of his mask. He sealed it to his face and then looked for the hose's socket. He'd needed the mask so rarely that he couldn't remember where he'd installed the socket during the Bug's latest re-fit. Finally he found it behind a pine tree-shaped air freshener. Nightshade appeared at his left shoulder and pointed to the empty seat beside him. "I'm going to need to see the plane in order to establish contact. You don't seem to have any side-portals or anything, so I'll have to sit here. Is that a problem?" "Mi Bug es su Bug!" Blue Beetle replied. "Will we all need those masks?" "Hopefully I won't even need it. Flash's Speed Force aura should remove the effects of inertia. And at the speed we're flying, if it doesn't, a little mask probably won't help. But I like to be prepared, especially when people's lives depend on my piloting." The Flash called to Blue Beetle from the back of the Bug. "Okay, Beetle, you're going to have to push this Bug to its limit. This equipment should transfer my velocity and my protective aura, but we've no idea how much of it will transfer. Any boost you can give will help this to work." "You've got it, fleet feet! We're in position and AF2 is coming up behind us in 130 seconds. I'm preparing the bug for high velocity and we'll start accelerating to meet it in a moment." Hands flying across the console, Ted Kord channeled more power to the deflecting force field and activated a hull super-coolant to reduce the effects of friction on the ship's exterior. Another switch swung in the Bug's legs for a more streamlined shape. The thrumming of the Bug's engines was quite noticeable now, and Beetle raised his voice to be heard. "Nightshade, I just finished a present for ya! Here!" He pressed the Enter key on a small keyboard and a ring of monitors around the left 'eye' began showing a three-dimensional cutaway vector graphic of Air Force Two. The image rotated, spun and bounced so as to show off all views of the plane. Each monitor showed it at a different magnification. Several compartments blinked. "While we were flying here, I combined all of the blueprints of Air Force Two to make this model. It's locked on to the actual plane. Once it's in view, these monitors will line it up with the real Air Force Two so that you can get an idea of where the target areas are. That's the luggage compartment, that's the galley and that's the Emergency Transporter area. I hope that'll help you picture the destination for your portal." "You did that just now, while we were flying?" Nightshade asked, a little surprised at Blue Beetle's competence. He was nothing like the ineffectual goof he was reported to be. Beetle ignored her as he turned his attention back to the instruments tracking AF2. Nightshade turned to Deadshot. "Have you got a silencer for those things? I want you to enter the plane first. If I've picked a place that's occupied, it's up to you to take out the enemy before they can signal, got it?" Deadshot grinned and tugged on his headgear. The tight nylon hood covered his features. An eyepiece with a red gunsight was now his only view of the world. Nightshade sat back into the front chair and again buckled up. The Flash assumed his place on the treadmill. Everyone braced themselves for acceleration. Through the two eye-portals of the Bug, they saw the glowing red stripe of the relativity tube as it hung in the air and arced into the distance. The Bug hovered in place several hundred yards to the right of it, facing the west, as Blue Beetle didn't want to risk smashing into it. Nightshade tapped Blue Beetle's shoulder. "One last thing. I need it dark in here, if you can dim the lights." Ted tripped several switches so that the only light came from the control boards and a single lamp over the treadmill in the back. "Good. Signal Waller that we're making our move now, and let's go." Nightshade looked at the kitschy glowing Jesus on the 'dashboard' and crossed herself. Superman and Captain Atom received the message that the team would be making their attempt in a moment and they should take flanking positions on the other side of the tube in order to draw away the attention of the woman on the plane. Inside Air Force Two, Vice President Gore was trying to rub his chapped wrists when a figure appeared in the doorway. The hooded man, who had still not said a single word since his arrival, turned to see who it was. Warp entered, appearing very groggy, and leaned against the wall. "Ach, monsieur Chiller, how long have I been unconscious?" he asked. Al Gore's eyes went wide at the name. "Chiller?" he whispered. "Oh no!" "SURF'S UP, DUDES!" Blue Beetle screamed as he hit the accelerator. The Bug raced through the sky, its engine fairly screaming. Beetle tracked the position of Air Force Two, which was coming up behind them like the proverbial bat out of hell. The Bug's amazing speed was almost nothing compared to the plane's velocity. Beetle activated an intercom in his mask and shouted, "Punch it, Flash! Go go go go go!" The Flash took his first step onto the treadmill's ionized surface. It felt like several hundred ladybugs walking on his feet. He began running and the sensation quickly disappeared. The Flash gripped the railings and increased his speed to 300,000 miles an hour using a speed indicator on the treadmill. As he did, he "leant" the Bug his speed. The Speed Force was the mysterious energy force from which all superspeedsters derived their powers. It allowed them to pick up an object at rest without obliterating it. It allowed them to shield their bodies, their clothing and anyone or anything they carried from the friction, inertia and other forces which would otherwise quickly destroy them. This was all part of the same principle: that the Flash and those like him could lend speed to others. The Flash had recently increased in this regard, to the point that he didn't have to be carrying the person or object. But he'd never leant his speed to a vehicle so vast; it was a lot of tonnage and a lot of space for him to affect. The wires connected to his body and the treadmill didn't seem to be working. Then, all of a sudden, the Bug's whining diminished, the hull temperature decreased, and the Bug itself…went "warp speed." The clouds could no longer be distinguished; they became a sea of thin gray mist that seemed to float around the bug before it could be reached. The shape of Air Force Two and two people passed by, receded, and then reappeared as the Bug gained on them. The tumultuous sky had disappeared as they crossed into the midnight area of the world and then began approaching the sunlight again. Blue Beetle could no longer contain his joy at the experience. He ripped off the unnecessary air mask and shouted, "YAAAAAAA-HOOO!" Superman and Captain Atom had taken up upper and lower positions on the left side of Air Force Two, dodging more inconsequential attacks from Giggling Gremlin. Superman had spotted the Bug as it dropped behind their position and then quickly caught up to them. He cast a glance back at them with his telescopic vision…and laughed despite himself. Inside the Bug, two identical pop-eyed faces grinned madly back at Superman. One of them belonged to Blue Beetle. The other belonged to Garfield, suction-cupped to the inside of the Bug's eyeball. "We're in position!" Beetle shouted, "Nightshade, if you can do this, now's the time!" Beside him, Nightshade fixed on the plane, then on the 3-D images…and closed her eyes. Behind her, the others got unbuckled and crowded to the front, except for the Atom. Ray Palmer heard the Flash huffing and puffing from the treadmill and went back to ask if he was all right. "You'd better…make this quick! I can't keep…this up…for long!" Flash said, between breaths. His legs were a blur, and he seemed to be leaning on the rails for support. "I don't understand. You should be able to do 300,000 miles an hour easily!" Atom exclaimed, surprised at his friend's exhaustion. "The speed transfer ratio…is far from one to one. I have to…go…a lot faster…than that. Can feel it…dragging on me…through the Speed Force. It's like the Bug…and I are one! Can feel…burning. Oh, God! I can't…last much longer! Tell 'em to hurry!" Atom dashed forward to relay the message. Meanwhile, Nightshade tried to mentally connect with Air Force Two. It was extremely difficult. Again and again, she attempted to picture it as a target in relation to where she was. Again and again, it didn't work. Then she saw it! A small room filled with luggage. She committed the image and gestured to open the portal. As she did, there was a spark and smoke billowed from the Bug's control panel. She lost the connection. "Damn!" Beetle exclaimed as turbulence shook the cabin. He wrestled the Bug's smoking controls and screamed to the Flash, "We've just lost the force field! Flash! You've got to increase your protective aura around the Bug!" Behind them, the Flash gritted his teeth and groaned. Despite moving his legs a million times a second, they could see his legs beginning to wobble. He shouted back, "Beetle, I can't keep this up for more than another minute!" "Got it!" Nightshade exclaimed as she opened the portal. An inky pool appeared in midair and expanded. She leapt inside and then leaned back out. "Okay, people, like we discussed! Come on!" Elongated Man extended a finger around everyone's waist, forming a lifeline. They began following her into the Nightshade Dimension. Blue Beetle was trying to keep the Bug even with Air Force Two as the winds continued to buffet the ship. The hull's temperature was increasing. Suddenly, he realized what Flash had said. He screamed over the din, "Flash, what do you mean 'another minute'? It's going to take longer than that to decelerate! Will you be able to keep running if we drop our speed?" "No! I'm…maxed out! There's…no way…" Beetle glanced back to see Nemesis, the last of the group, leap into the dark hole in space. "Quick, Wally, jump into the portal! You don't have to die! I'll keep the Bug as level as I can! Go, before it closes! Go!" The portal began collapsing. Flash used his arms to boost himself off the treadmill and rocketed the twenty feet to Beetle's chair. The wires and electropads stretched and popped off of his body. As the last vestiges of the speed aura dwindled from the Bug, Flash unbuckled Beetle's harness and pulled him from his seat. The exterior of the Bug caught fire and shook as he tucked Beetle under his arm and turned towards the portal. The portal had narrowed to only two feet in diameter. Flash straightened Beetle's limbs until his body was straight as an arrow. Then he held Beetle flat and shoved him through the collapsing portal. As soon as Beetle's feet were inside, Flash grabbed him by his heels and leeched the momentum off of Beetle's body so that he wouldn't become a flaming meteorite inside Nightshade's dimension. By now the portal was touching Flash's wrists and he yanked his hands away. The portal closed. Flash was now trapped aboard the flaming Bug. In the second it had taken him to save Blue Beetle's life, his protective aura had dwindled even more and the hull began to feel the full impact of moving at this velocity. He figured he had a fraction of a second before the air superheated and the hull collapsed into slag. Flash's predecessor, Barry Allen, had once confessed that he feared flying due to his inability to save himself if the plane exploded. Wally West had spent many years trying to figure out solutions to that problem. Now he was going to try one more. He glanced out of the Bug's windshield and saw the faint outline of Air Force Two through the flames. He did a few mental calculations, backed up and ran at the wall of the Bug, vibrating his molecules so that he phased through it. This usually caused objects to become unstable and explode, but that hardly mattered now. The Bug "re-entered" the atmosphere going faster than any vehicle had a right to. In an eyeblink, it compressed into a compact flaming ball of metal, glass and debris while superheating the air around it for hundreds of feet. Had it not been for the rapid deceleration, the explosion of flame would have caught Air Force Two as well. Superman was keeping a watchful eye on Giggling Gremlin, making sure that she didn't spot the Bug. He glanced back to the Bug and saw the Blue Beetle wrestling the vehicle's controls. "Cap, the Bug seems to be having…" he began, then was cut off as the massive burst of light made explanation unnecessary. "God!" he whispered, "I hope they weren't in that. Cap, you watch Air Force Two. I need to make sure the debris disintegrates." Captain Atom whispered a hope that their friends were all right. "Ouch!" Flash said, grabbing onto the wing of Air Force One. He couldn't believe it had worked. He'd gauged his leap to the plane just right. And, just as he suspected he could, he'd accessed the Speed Force and passed through the relativity field without any trouble. He'd even been able to change his velocity so that he didn't overshoot the plane. From the instant his fingers had first grazed the wing, he'd managed to slow his speed to a dead stop so as to not strike the plane like a missile. Sometimes it was nice to be the total master of the Speed Force! Flash moved to the base of the wing, sat between two portals where no one could see him and massaged his tired legs. He had to breathe rapidly to consume an adequate amount of oxygen at this altitude, but at least his aura negated the effects of the wind. As far as he was concerned, the plane could have been at a dead stop. "Ouch!" Blue Beetle said as he hit a stony surface. That was strange! Where was the Bug? One minute he was piloting the doomed craft, the next he's plunged into total darkness. What had…? He opened his eyes to see as best he could. It seemed to be a vast rock wasteland, though he couldn't see very far. Craggy dead trees leaned in his direction, their branches appearing to claw at him. The sky sounded full of flying, screeching, howling wildlife…although the hollowness of their cries made him doubt there was too much "life" to that wildlife. It reminded him of Disney's Sleepy Hollow, only ten times worse. The wind picked up with a whistle and he felt it tearing at his costume like dozens of little paper cuts. Oh, dear Lord, he was in Hell! The Bug had vaporized and he'd died. But why didn't he go to Heaven? He hadn't been the most attentive church-goer, that was certain, but he was no atheist, either. Of course, for all he knew he'd been in the wrong religion and the Hari Krishnas were right. Or maybe he'd offended God in some way. Oh, dear. "This is about the glow-in-the-dark figurine, isn't it?!" he shouted skyward. "Look, I'm sorry! I thought you had a sense of humor about that stuff! I, I know I haven't exactly been tithing since I made my first million, but I do a lot of costumed charity work. You may have seen that. What am I thinking, of course you saw that! And I know, I've heard all the lectures about faith being the only way to Heaven…I guess, deep down, a part of me always thought that all of that superheroing had earned me SOME brownie points. God, do I deserve this? Please! Let me into Heaven or Sheol or what-have-you! Or send me back, I'll do more! I'll build churches! Do missionary work! Visit smelly old folks' homes!" From high above Blue Beetle, the faint outline of a giant hand appeared and descended towards him. The fingers stretched open like in the painting by Michelangelo as they drew near. Tears flowed down Ted's cheeks, and he ran to meet the hand of God. "Oh, thank You, Lord, for Your infinite mercies!" he cried. The hand enclosed him in a tight fist and yanked him off the ground. Blue Beetle noticed for the first time that the hand was wearing a purple glove. Suddenly, Ralph Dibny's face raced toward him, stopping only inches from his own. Blue Beetle screamed. "Ted! It is you! What are you doing here? Are you crying?" Ralph asked. Ted looked around Ralph's head to see that he was being hauled towards the rest of the boarding party. Oh. He was in the land of the Nightshades. "Ummm…the Bug was exploding. I guess Wally threw me in here. Is he with you?" "No," Nightshade said as Ralph set Blue Beetle down on the rocky floor. "I hope he's all right. Come on, we can't stay here any longer." "You weren't kidding when you said your dimension was a nightmare. I'm glad you had me close my eyes last time you brought me through here!" Beetle exclaimed. "This? Oh, this is the nice part of the dimension. I finally managed to stabilize a narrow pathway. And if we don't get out of here, my control will weaken and even this space will disappear. Hurry, towards that light. That's the exit. Deadshot's gone ahead of us." Nightshade glanced behind them and turned to run. "Hurry! Run with all your might! And for God's sake, don't look behind you!" "What is it?" "DON'T LOOK BEHIND YOU!" "WHAT IS IT!?" "RUUUUUUUUN!" Nightshade screamed from ten yards ahead of them. Blue Beetle took no more than three steps before Elongated Man grabbed him and Nemesis by the waists and hauled them forward. Beetle could see the miniaturized Atom clinging to Nightshade's ear for dear life. Ralph easily overtook Nightshade with his hundred yard strides and hoisted them all through the portal. They tumbled into Air Force Two's luggage compartment. Elongated Man's one pinkie finger was still in contact with Nightshade's waist and he turned to haul her out of her dimension. A hideous roar echoed inside, and Nightshade quickly closed the portal as she leapt from it. "Thanks," Nemesis whispered to Elongated Man as he got to his feet. "You've got a hell of a lot of strength for such a wiry body!" Blue Beetle was puffing from all the excitement and leaned back against something soft. He turned to see a man with a bullet hole between the eyes leaning against the wall. He suppressed the urge to scream in surprise. Looking around, he saw two more dead men. Deadshot appeared from the back of the luggage compartment and motioned to Nemesis. "I found a place where we can stash the corpses," he whispered to Nemesis. Nemesis and Deadshot proceeded to drag the bodies away. Deadshot re-emerged alone. "Nemesis is taking the suit off one of the terrorists. Figures he can pass himself off as one of them until he's asked to say something. I, uh, didn't give these guys enough time to speak, so he doesn't really have enough to go on for a proper imitation." Deadshot dragged the last corpse away. Nightshade nodded. She looked at the three Justice Leaguers, all of whom appeared repulsed at the sight of three people dead at the hands of their teammate. Elongated Man especially. She grabbed his shoulder and looked him straight in the eyes. "Deadshot didn't have any choice. He had to silence them before they raised an alarm. And they are terrorists committing treason." Elongated Man straightened his spine and glared; he didn't like being lectured. "Hey, I hope they get the gallows once they're captured and found guilty. But I've never killed anyone, nor have I found it necessary. You could have had me go first to bind and gag all three of them in a second." Nightshade frowned. "I'm all for a non-violent solution when it's possible, but you'd have to be awfully fast to…" The door to the compartment was flung open as two more gunmen entered the room. Their eyes had no sooner registered the new intruders than Elongated Man's hand shot out to completely envelope the first man's head. His fingers stretched back around the second man's skull and then constricted to bring both heads together with a satisfying knock. At the same time, Elongated Man's. tongue raced around the man's Uzi like a bullwhip and yanked it away, while his left hand looped around the rear man's Uzi and disarmed him. As both men still appeared semi-conscious, he drove his foot forward until they both straddled his left leg…then drove his knee upward. The two men grimaced and whined through the fingers covering their mouths. One more collision of their skulls bestowed unconsciousness upon them. "Whoah. That was like a two-second Jackie Chan movie!" Nightshade whispered. Blue Beetle grabbed a nearby roll of tape and tied the men up. "Gad's how goo…oogs!" Elongated Man loosened his tongue to drop the Uzi so that he could talk. "That's how you do the job without killing. Beetle, put those two in the compartment with the corpses." "Well, what can I say?" Nightshade retorted. "We don't all have twenty foot lightning-fast tongues!" "And if we did, the divorce rate would plummet," Blue Beetle said, hefting one of the gunmen. "Beetle!" Nightshade hissed. "I always wondered why your wife looked so happy!" "Beetle!" everyone hissed. MEANWHILE… Chiller stood to remove his wide hat and headgear. Al Gore studied the Assassin's face. It bore only a passing resemblance to the face he'd seen four years before. The ugly half-melting face was now much tighter, though it was still white as paper and looked like a man sculpted from pudding. What's more, he now had a full head of white hair. "You're not the Chiller I know," Al Gore said. "Heh. No," Chiller said, shaking his head. "Not by a long shot. Though I am the fella who tried to assassinate you and Bill Clinton four years ago." "How can that be? You're either him or you're not." Chiller took off his coat, revealing a dapper business suit complete with pocket handkerchief, white gloves and a white scarf. Al Gore noted that he did not wear his exoskeleton anymore. "Well, I made a little arrangement with a dealer named Neron. He makes me a better assassin, I give him my immortal something-or-other. I'm sure some of the improvements are obvious. It's a little hard to sneak around when you look like a pile of cruddy Jell-o in a six foot robot suit. Remember, I used to look like this?" Chiller's entire body seemed to shift, the clothing folding and merging into the large red-and-white body armor Gore remembered, then it shifted back to his dressy appearance. "See? Total molecular control now. But the other enhancements…well, you're an intelligent man. Let's see if you can figure it out." Chiller grabbed an office chair and wheeled it close to the Gores. He straddled the chair's back and leaned forward, until he was only a few inches away. "Tipper!" he said loudly, startling her. "You look confused. Surely your husband's told you about the assassination attempt on his life." "He has, but just that someone named Chiller tried to kill him. He…he didn't even describe you. He wanted to spare us the details." "Well, then let me fill you in. See, this organization named the 1000 paid me a hell of a lot of money to kidnap the President and the Vice President. Then I'd plug'em both but destroy Clinton's body so it couldn't be found. The 1000 and I pretend to take them both hostage and hold off the troops, until a very influential Senator comes in to negotiate. Then I pose as Clinton…and the Senator and I haul out your husband's corpse. This Senator gets made my new veep, then Clinton (me) says he's an emotional wreck from the experience and steps down, leaving the Senator our new president. It's quite an ambitious plot, isn't it?" Tipper nodded. "Only problem is, it couldn't work in a million years!" he continued. "Not that I knew it at the time. I wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the bin…which would have been part of the problem." He seemed rather nonchalant about his past inadequacy. "Of course, we didn't even get to find out because that new kid, Booster Gold, interfered and saved your lives. I spent a while blaming him. Then I made the deal with Neron and he not only spruces up my powers but he boosted my mind. I looked back on who I was and laughed! I mean, you heard the way I used to talk like an illiterate Darth Vader from Texas!" "Maybe I could duplicate a person's voice, but that's only a small part of imitating someone. Clinton may sound like a hick with a sore throat…hell, anyone can do an impression of him…but he's also a Rhodes' Scholar who uses big words. All the public ever sees are performances of speeches written by other people for a public high school audience so that even the dumbest American can get his message. How do we know how he really behaves? The guy sees a camera and shifts into Presidential mode, and that's all I had to go on. No way would Hilary or Chelsea have bought my act for more than ten minutes. Plus, I had to constantly apply freezing compound so my face didn't melt, and back then I couldn't even change my blood type. I wouldn't have lasted past a routine medical check to make sure Clinton was okay!" "No, to pass myself off as someone requires study, concentration, intelligence…and a plot that isn't so suspicious that everyone from Oliver Stone on down starts wondering about it. And that…is what I've got today. So tell me…" Chiller said, rising to shove his chair away, "…what do you think is going to happen to Clinton?" One of the corpses walked back into the room. At least, that's what the Atom thought, until he realized it was Nemesis. "Amazing!" he mused, "You got a convincing make-up job done in the time it takes me to get dressed in the morning! Does Michael Dorn know about you?" "Hey, Atom, quit stealing my thunder. I'm the joker around here!" Beetle whispered. "Actually, Blue Beetle," Nemesis said, "I was just wondering what we're going to do with a brightly garbed superhero who has no real usefulness for the team." "Hell, the Justice League wondered that for a couple years!" "I'm serious. Four of us can move around somewhat freely…and Deadshot can eliminate anyone who finds him while he's down here…but you stick out like a sore thumb. Until we secure the Gores and the pilots, you have to hide down here. Only come out once the covert ops are done, got it?" Beetle knew now wasn't the time for hurt feelings. "Fine. I can keep an eye on Deadshot and keep him from wasting innocent passengers. Hey, if I remember the movie Air Force One right, there's a fridge down here. I need a drink." Nemesis turned to Nightshade, who sat uneasily on a box. "How are you feeling?" "Miserable. Haven't pushed myself to the limit like that. I can't turn into a shadow until I rest up." "You're going to have to try. We need you to sneak around," he said, with as much empathy as he could show in front of the others. "LOOK! I ca-…" Nightshade said angrily, then caught herself and whispered again, "I can't! When I say I can't, I mean I can't! You don't ask a person to do a long jump after running the New York Marathon. Shadow form is tiring and I've already worn myself out. So quit acting like I'm Scotty who's going to suddenly have the warp engines repaired just because you've emphasized the severity of the situation!" Nightshade looked away from Nemesis, already sorry for chewing him out. She folded her arms around her knees and put her head down to rest a moment. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Deadshot broke it. "Am I the only person here who doesn't watch Star Trek?" he muttered. Atom chuckled and shrank to his six inch height again. "Nemesis!" he shouted, though it sounded like a guinea pig's squeak, "Pick me up! Why don't you and I check around first while Nightshade recuperates? You and I can go unnoticed more than Ralph can. No offense, Ralph." "None taken. He's right, though. I can hide well, but you two can spy more easily. There aren't a lot of dark spots and hiding places on a plane. Go ahead. Once you've looked around, Nightshade and I can deploy ourselves better." Nemesis left, as Atom shrank even more and hid in his collar. Beetle returned, holding a bottle of Snapple. "You know, this plane is nothing like that movie. Design's different. But I found something you'll want to see, Ralph." "I've watched you carrying water for Bill Clinton. Defending him, attacking the witch hunt, saying the country needs to ignore his misdeeds and move on. See, I've been studying you all this time. And the whole time, I'm wondering what you really think," Chiller said as he paced back and forth before the Gores. "I mean, you're a happy family man who loves his wife and family. It's gotta hurt, somewhere down where it doesn't show, that you've gotta go defend this philanderer who goes after women the same age as your daughters! I bet Tipper must love this, too. She has to listen to you defending him for cheating on his wife. Ouch!" Chiller suddenly shoved his nose inches away from Al's. "Come on, Al! What's going on in your head? There's no public, no reporters. Just me. Just tell me. How do you really feel about this whole mess?!" "He's trying to provoke me," Al thought, trying to analyze what Chiller was up to before it was too late. "Look at him, pacing and struggling. He's like a character actor, a DeNiro or Pacino trying to get into a role." Al kept his mouth shut. "No? No answer?" Chiller said after a minute. He rose, gesturing even more wildly as he resumed pacing. "See, here's the thing that separates you from Bill. I know this much about you. I think most Americans are stunned that Billy boy hasn't stepped down for the good of the country. I mean, if it was you, you'd have done that by now, right? Hell, most honorable men would…not that a truly honorable man would get into his mess, but you know what I mean. But you get a guy who insists that he has to stay in power and no one knows what to say to that. Month after month, revelation after revelation, he stays in and says he's got to run the country. And I keep looking at you and wondering why? Why not let Al Gore, nice, decent family man Al Gore, take over? What's so necessary that only Clinton can do it? Can you answer that for me, Al? Wouldn't the party and the country heal so much better if the same agenda was being driven but with you behind the wheel?" Al glanced at Chiller, then looked away. "Ah-HA!" Chiller crowed, pointing excitedly with his finger. "I knew it! You had to be thinking the same thing all these months! See? I told you I knew you. I understand you. I knew it! So, now I had to figure out 'why?'" Chiller began pacing again, almost lost in the musings of his expanded mind. "Why why why why why? Why why why why why? Why…would Clinton stick at it all this time? The only thing he truly cares about is his place in history, and wouldn't it look better to go out with grace and dignity as a man who put the country before himself? Otherwise, the history books will just talk about eight years of an embattled, scandalous administration. He can't totally recover and go down as a great man, not now, no matter what he shovels to stay in office. That's over. Two more years will never reclaim it, unless he brings about world peace and gives everyone a million bucks each. So why? Why why why why why?" Chiller tapped his fingers against his lips as he paced. "What's the best thing for his party? For him to step down. What's the best thing for his place in history? For him to step down? And what's the best thing for you, Al? For him to step down…in 1999! After all, he steps down in 1998 and this counts as one term. If you get re-elected in 2000, you can't run in 2004. But if he waits until 1999, it doesn't count against you and you could spend an entire decade in the Oval Office. So I figure," Chiller again got close and looked him in the eyes, "I figure you've got a deal going, yes you do! I figure Clinton comes to you and says, 'No matter when I leave office, I'm facing serious prison time.' Not that he'd go to the kind of prisons I've been to, but prison nonetheless. But he says, 'Al, I'll hang on until 1999 before stepping down if you'll grant me a pardon once you get in.' See? See? Same deal as Nixon had with Ford." "You're crazy!" Al finally replied. "Ford never got re-elected. Same would happen to me if I did that. You're nuts! If you're counting on taking my place, that's not going to happen in a month." "Uh-huh. Uh-huh uh-huh. Sure. So, okay, so…so maybe he's got some goods on you, like that campaign financing scandal you're in that no one cares about. Maybe he's got something else he'll keep mum about if you pardon him. Clinton absolutely has to be searching for a way to beat prison for perjury. Beating impeachment doesn't mean avoiding the law, just putting it off until he's out. He's gotta be thinking of a presidential pardon from President Gore. I bet there's some way he's gonna get you to do that, no matter what it does to your political chances afterward." "Look," Al Gore interrupted, "why don't you just tell your little stories to the American Spectator? Maybe they'll go for these ridiculous theor…" "I'M NOT FINISHED YET!" Chiller roared. Al Gore leaned back in shock, then quickly shut his mouth. "Thank you. Okay, maybe I'm totally off on this whole 'deal' thing. Maybe there's some other arrangement. Whatever the reason is, he's been hanging on tooth and nail. You figure 'good, maybe he gets thrown out in 1999 and I'm President for ten years.' And I'll admit, I've been thinking the same thing all this time, which is why I planned to sneak on board and quietly kill you. Take your place secretly, you know. That's why I've read all your speeches and watched all the footage of you and even somehow managed to make it all the way through your book." "But then these elections come along and Clinton takes the Democratic 'victory'…" Chiller stopped pacing to make the little quote marks in the air with his fingers, a move Al always found pretentious, then resumed, "…to mean total vindication for his administration. Joe Sixpack says, 'Hey, he's a normal guy with needs! Uh…he's got a sham political marriage to a castrating ice queen, of course he's gonna cheat on her and lie about it! Uhhhh…he's balanced the budget and saved Social Security, he kept America together during that Dominator Invasion and all. We want him! Yeah! Yay!' He's staying in there, can you believe it!? And BANG, there go your chances of taking office, Al! What are you gonna do? What am I gonna do, Al? What are we gonna do to start our administration?" "We?" Al said, the color draining from his cheeks. "Yeah, we! You…actually me, masquerading as you. I figure I can do a pretty good job as President Al Gore. No stepping down so some guy working for the 1000 can take the top spot this time. I want that job. I mean, 'Chiller in 2000' has a nice ring to it! Just the thought of being President for a while, of occupying that office…I mean, how bad a job can I do, really? It's not like the President has a lot of power, really, not like being an ancient emperor. You can't go to the Treasury and roll around in the money, or fling open the doors and have it hauled off to your Swiss Bank Account. You can't declare war on some country for no reason. You can't order someone killed, at least not publicly. You can't just point to some woman on the street and say, 'Bring her to my chambers!' Okay, if you're Jack Kennedy, maybe you can do that last one. Hell, I'd probably get more personal power if I replaced Bill Gates, or Steven Spielberg, or the lead singer of Smashing Pumpkins. But I just want to be the President, even if it's just for a while. I think you can sympathize with that, Al." "So you're…" Al moistened his throat and started again, "So you're going to kill me now, keep up the charade for two years and run for president in 2000? Or are you going to kill Bill Clinton disguised as me?" "Al…Al, you're not thinking. I can't just quietly replace you, now, can I? Your wife knows. Knows the plan. She's not gonna keep quiet while I go around pretending to be your husband. For this to work, she has to die, too. And you can't exactly hide her disappearance from the public. So…new plan." Chiller's fingers hissed and spat as acid began to secrete from his fingertips.
Characters are ™ DC Comics
This story is © 1998 by Michael Hutchison.
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