Yet s'more Justice League: Rethunk!
The American Justice Squad
Other members
Superman
The Greek gods awoke one morning to find that, during their drunken debauch, they had lost track of several millennia. That Bacchus really knew how to throw one! Upon viewing the World of Men from their pocket-dimension of Olympus, they discovered that mankind had largely forgotten them. Not only that, but many humans had luxuries and conveniences that made all the gods wonder if they had become obsolete?
Finally, one god spoke: "Well, I've been right all along! the People have been pursuing knowledge and now they rival us. You all laughed at old Hephaestus when he started building forges and making artifices. Now look at man! They rival all the gods but one: Me!"
Zeus spoke: "Have a care, Hephaestus! You are still the weakest of the gods. I'd hurl a thunderbolt at you but right now I don't think My poor head can take it!"
Ares: "Have you seen their weapons? They shoot thunderbolts tipped with little suns to destroy their enemies! I think Hephaestus is right, at least so far as might is concerned. Any one of us could crush one of these people like a grape but then they might send their thunderbolts against us, and then we'd share the fate of the titans!"
Athena: "I have noticed that they have many champions who right wrongs and mete justice. I propose we send an emmissary among them to let them know we still live and crave their attention."
Zeus: "And I suppose you would suggest yourself for the task? Daughter, If I have learned anything I have learned not to trust an Olympian any farther than I can hurl a thunderbolt!"
Hephaestus: "Might I make a suggestion?"
The other gods remained silent. As much as they teased lame Hephaestus they really did like him, even if he was an old stick-in-the-mud.
"I propose to make an artificial man in my forge who we can send in our stead."
"So he would be your agent?" interjected Hera.
"Hear me out. Each of us could grant this homunculus a portion of our power. Athena her wisdom, Heracles his strength, Hermes' fleetness, Apollo's fierce heat, and so forth."
The gods were boggled by the prospect. Finally Zeus spoke. "All right, we'll do it only under the following condition: we'll get the fates to measure the abilities we give this new being so that no one of us is over-represented. The People will have an avatar of the Olympians once more. Hephaestus? Get on it right now. Meanwhile, has anyone seen Chiron? I need something to settle My stomach."
Shortly thereafter, a lone stranger appeared out of nowhere. Claiming to represent the gods of the ancient Greek Pantheon, this Superman aids humanity and spreads the news that Olympus still lives.
Marathon
Russel "Rusty" Stover was a genetic engineer for a large biotechnology company. He had been assigned the task of designing hypothetical "designer genes" to enhance human performance, "purely for the scientific value". Happy to be given an opportunity to show his skills on such a difficult task, Rusty quickly came up with formulae which would enhance the speed at which nerve impulses could travel, the power and speed of muscle cells, and the efficiency of the metabolism, and the ability to use oxygen and process fatigue poisons.
Less than a month after he'd been given the assignment, he presented his results to his supervisor, and was surprised to find himself being ordered to turn over his notes and any samples he may have made. The government had gotten wind of his project and it had been classified out of his hands. At least that's what he had been told. In fact, his superior's superior had ordered these formulae as a "side Job" from Intercrime.
Shortly thereafter Rusty was fired for wasting corporate time and money on his "pet project". His former supervisors told a tale of a man who ignored their commands to produce a more nutritious variety of potato in order to pursue his own "crackpot" theories. Rusty knew now that he had been set up. Working at home, he was able to reconstitute his formulae and was preparing to take these new samples to the head of the corporation to insist his former supervisor be fired when his house exploded.
Two mysterious men watched from more than a mile away. "Oh, too bad! It looks like the perfessor had a gas leak!"
"Yeah, maybe he shood'na have lighted a match, huh?"
The two men laughed, got into their car and drove away.
The explosion shattered the containers of formula and made a fine aerosol mist of them, propelling the mist right into Rusty's skin. Time literally froze. At that moment, the trauma of the explosion, the infusion of chemicals, and possibly some other unaccounted-for effect combined to make Rusty Stover stronger, more durable and faster -- much faster, than almost anyone alive. The shockwave had less of an effect on Rusty, with his perception sped up so much. The debris he could not dodge he gently nudged out of his way as he raced the flame front out of his house. When he stopped running, Rusty realized he was in Overton, nearly 300 miles distant from his home. For days of subjective time, Rusty struggled to slow down enough to interact with "realtime", stopping anywhere he could to eat or drink enough to keep away starvation and dehydration. Finally, after seeming months of living in "overtime" as he dubbed it, Rusty was finally able to slow down to normal. Realizing someone had tried to kill him (and probably thought they succeeded) Rusty went underground to discover who had ordered the blast which had "killed" him and bring him (or them) to justice, appearing in public only as "Marathon, the Fastest Man Alive!"
Green Canary
When one of the primitive planets on the border of the Avian Empire was invaded, the Avians were caught off guard. When the primitive natives threw back the assault unaided, the Imperial Defense force was astonished. At their recommendation, the Empress ordered one of the Imperial Diplomat-Police to establish a station on this border world to study the natives and prepare them for eventual induction into the empire as an allied planet. She would, as necessary, assist these primitives against further incursions, and learn of their technology and culture.
Agent Grhein'k Nairrhee is one of the best Agents of the Avian Empire's Police-Diplomacy corps. Like all of her kind, she has a knack for languages, can fly, and carries various devices concealed under her feathers which provide life support, defense (force field), and an offense that consists primarily of modulating her amplified voice to a precise frequency and focussing it in a narrow beam. Several effects are possible, ranging from a sonic stun to an armor-piercing shriek. Green Canary has a soothing, melodious voice and can't understand why humans persist in pronouncing her name wrong.
Wonder Man
Brock Kentman was a frail, sickly child who grew into a frail, sickly teenager. One day in 1937, he was introduced to
Joseph L. Greenstein. Taking pity on the boy, Joseph shared his secret regimen of diet and exercise that had rendered him such a remarkable specimin of physical perfection. Brock immediately began training according to Greenstein's regimen, and over the course of several months became as hale and healthy as anyone who had walked the planet. Furthermore, he continued gaining strength. First he could lift an anvil. Next he could lift one end of a car by its bumper. Then he could lift the car.
One day Brock walked into a bank during a stickup. One of the gangsters turned and shot him in the head. To Brock's amazement, the flattened bullet bounced off without leaving a mark. He quickly subdued the gangsters, tying them up with their own guns, then left before anyone could get a good look at him. At eighteen he was already earning his own living as a mechanic but since the bank robberry, he has assumed the identity of Wonder Man, defender of the Meek!
Now in his late eighties, Wonder Man is still going strong. He may be gray and balding but he is still one of the most powerful men alive, and with so many years of experience, one of the wisest.
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