THE WOMAN OF STEEL. PART V

20 December 1949

Sentinell Hill

Superwoman glided swiftly and gracefully through the sky, slicing through the low clouds. Her long cape left a faint red line in the soft dawn sunlight that seeped through the clouds. Below, the landscape alternated between forests and farmlands, punctuated by rugged terrain. She flew along the blurry border between New York State and Miskatonic in search of Mr. Sebastian's residence. An ominous foreboding nestled in her heart, anticipating that it was there, or perhaps very soon, that she would confront the Toyman and his band of anonymous, vague, and sinister accomplices. She felt that Roberta was right: the Toyman was manipulating the hapless Mr. Sebastian. Meanwhile, the echoes of the mysterious mass disappearances and craters around the world continued, despite the official version of gas meteor impacts that seemed so ludicrous to the Maid of Might. Clara was overwhelmed by the fear of a possible alien invasion and by the exhausting hours of flying through the sky, the stratosphere or near space in search of a hostile fleet; and yet she feared to be unavailable to prevent a natural disaster, an accident... or to face a mere mortal human psychopath capable of committing unimaginable horrors, as the Toyman was. She should have paid more attention to the Toyman and investigated Dr. Quinzel sooner, but she couldn't do it all.

Below her, along the road and paths, Superwoman occasionally made out the red blur and flashes of light from Flash, who was accompanying her on this mission. She expected nothing more than guns and bombs, but she wanted a friendly hand to protect Mr. Sebastian or any other innocent person if she had to confront the Toyman and Dr. Quinzel. Using her telescopic vision, she saw Flash stop at a bend in a hill where a large white and gray slate-roofed wooden house stood on a sloping meadow. Superwoman descended gently. In front of the wooden gate was a small sign that read "Whalton House".

"Well, here we are… You found it so quickly, Barry."

"I'm quite good with maps... and I asked the milk truck," the Scarlet Speedster replied with self-sufficiency.

"Barry! You didn't have to talk to anyone! No one can know we are here!"

"I already told the milkman he couldn't tell anyone; don't worry people do comply!"

Superwoman huffed as she inspected the house with her X-ray vision and super-hearing. Nothing. She didn't detect anyone's presence.

"Barry, I think there's nobody here..." Superwoman's heart raced.

"Let's go inside," They moved towards the porch at super speed and unseen. Barry entered through phasing and opened the door from inside. Superwoman entered determinedly. The lights were off. The house appeared clean and tidy. It was old-fashioned and sparsely decorated but not sinister. They turned on the lights. Barry disappeared for a couple of seconds and then was back by her side.

"I've checked all rooms and didn't see anyone, but there are many toys and small mechanical robots. The house is tidy... there's a workshop with plans in the basement,"

Superwoman meticulously moved from room to room. The drawing room was somewhat clean. There were lots of comics and magazines. In the kitchen, a lot of food was stored but everything was ordinary. All the phones were disconnected or broken. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw several plush and toy heads impaled on spikes and piled up in the living room.

"What in the world is that?" Barry grimaced as Clara looked at him worriedly.

There were plush toys and mechanical figurines throughout the house. Some were crude and seemed to have been made there, others appeared to be new and recently purchased. Clara inspected them with her x-ray vision; none of them contained any sinister mechanisms. They went down into the basement. It wasn't a dark place, but a workshop with large lamps and painted in soft colors. More toys, more mechanisms... plans. Superwoman pounded frantically on the marble table, which exploded into dust and pebbles as she discovered half-finished mechanisms and plans for toys with bullets and explosive triggers inside.

"The Toyman has been here! Oh God! We're too late!" Clara howled.

Flash examined the mechanisms; sharp spikes sprung from inside the back of a plush toy, the Scarlet Speedster dodged them at super speed.

"You were right... But where have they gone?"

"They've been working here, preparing their attack... They've changed hideouts...probably closer to Metropolis. We should expect an attack soon." Superwoman clenched her fists, trying to calm down.

They went upstairs. The rooms were tidy and clean. They saw no confirmation of the Toyman's presence until Flash approached her with a scrapbook.

"Here is almost everything that has been published about the Toyman in the press and magazines of the East Coast since he escaped from prison..."

Clara looked through the clippings; a catalog of past horrors, the Toyman's sensational escape, the letters he had sent to the police… Nothing she wasn't already familiar with. In one of the rooms, in the closet, they found a pillowcase stained with some blood. Had they done something to Mr. Sebastian?

"Look at this," Flash pointed to a small red arrow crudely drawn on the wall, pointing at the bed. They moved the bed, and at the bottom of the wall, there was a series of dark red dots and lines, rough and almost blurred.

"Great Scott! What is this? It's not paint..."

"It looks like Morse code. Clara, let me translate it, I'm very good at this. You know I was in communications in the navy during the war."

Flash leaned in and began to read slowly, with a tone of doubt and confusion, "PLEASE#HELP!I'M#SEBASTIAN.#I'M#INNOCENT.EVIL#TOYMAN#AND#EVIL#DR.#QUINZEL#PREPARING#HORRIBLE#DISASTER.HELP#ME.METROPOLIS#IN#DANGER"

"Please, Help! I'm Sebastian. I'm Innocent. Evil Toyman and Evil Dr. Quinzel preparing horrible disaster. Help me. Metropolis is in danger." The words translated from the wall by Flash hit Clara like hammer blows, as she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. "Flash, please go alert the FBI. I'm going immediately to the Metropolis police. I think we have very little time." She gave herself hope; they would catch them in time.

21 December 1949

Moscow

Wrapped in the dim light of his office, Colonel Melkov was restlessly engaged in a very personal ritual: he tirelessly passed his index finger over his lips, a nervous gesture ingrained in his being for more than fifty years. The past seventy-two hours had shaken his existence, perhaps only comparable to that suspended moment on the Turkish border in 1944, waiting for an agent laden with reports of the ominous German advance toward the atomic bomb and their experiments with extraterrestrial technology; or that evening in 1937 in the dark dungeons of the Lubyanka, where the shadow of death loomed uncertainly over him in an interrogation room. No less agonizing were the tense hours of the previous year, zigzagging between Stalin's orders and counter-orders to authorize Luthor to turn the cryogenized body of the Kryptonian found in the Aleutian Islands into a weapon against Superwoman. At that point, Melkov was able to influence Beria, who in turn convinced Stalin to revoke Luthor's authorization, though Luthor defiantly proceeded with the mutation of the Kryptonian, creating an abomination: Doomsday.

As so often in his life, the coin had fallen on his side. Stalin had received the coded message from Ballerina with a red label in his own chancellery. But Stalin had asked him to decode it and read it to him in his presence. When Melkov arrived, they had only translated the title of the message. Ballerina claimed to have discovered the secret identity of Superwoman. The paranoia of the Comrade General Secretary, who trusted him and considered him something of a genius, was now a great advantage. Melkov changed Ballerina's message as much as he could. It was a brief account of her encounters with a journalist from her newspaper named Clara Kent, who was undoubtedly Superwoman to Ballerina. Her extraordinary physical resemblance-apparently Superwoman only disguised herself with glasses and a bun-her closeness to Louis Lane, whom Luthor had pointed out as crucial for the superheroine, her strange biography, her presence on a hospital ship miraculously saved from a torpedo in the Pacific in 1944 without any explanation, her absences synchronized with the appearance of the superheroine... everything was circumstantial, but Melkov had a strange feeling that it was true. Superwoman, apparently an ordinary woman of peasant origin, who had been a nurse and now worked at a newspaper… Why not? For Stalin, he decoded something else. He turned Clara Kent into Linda Lee and changed a journalist from the Daily Planet into a stenographer in the district attorney's office, while omitting the mention of Louis Lane and weakening the strength of Ballerina's findings. Stalin shook his head at Melkov's vague doubts.

"Do not worry, Colonel. I also find the story dubious and convoluted. But I believe it. She is one of your best spies and, moreover, not crazy like our dear Luthor. Through Finland, she has sent us some photos. The Special Scientific Team is analyzing them. They are just photos, three or four, of that Linda Lin. We received them yesterday, with no message. Just the word 'Superwoman.' It's a woman with glasses. They have studied her height and features. It is undoubtedly Superwoman. She has found her. This is a cause for celebration. So, a stenographer in the prosecutor's office? Protected by the state apparatus and the police, what a surprise..."

Melkov sighed sadly, looking at the coded text sent by Ballerina. It was futile that he had altered the content to protect Superwoman, whom the USSR Presidium was determined to eliminate. Killing the Kryptonian was a priority above the strange mass disappearances and craters, and the mysterious radio signals detected in space that had reappeared hours before. Now, his comrades might not have the name of the superheroine's secret identity, but they did have her face. The Special Scientific Team worked completely separate from Melkov's Intelligence Center. He had to rely on Beria. Ruthless as he was, Beria, along with Khrushchev, was the only one who had dismissed Stalin's paranoid idea that the craters and mass disappearances were part of a sinister American plot, aided by Superwoman, to justify global intervention. Beria was a man of scientific curiosity and despite his cruelty, he understood human nature quite well. He considered Superwoman a strong and naive alien who could be manipulated by the American government, but not a malevolent entity. And he was convinced of the threatening presence of other extraterrestrials. He had to talk to Beria. Perhaps Melkov was putting his life in danger and putting a noose around his neck, but if Beria believed there was an alien menace, he would probably agree to delay any action against Superwoman.

Melkov remembered how Stalin's Georgian accent hummed with optimism, something rare and quite infrequent.

"Congratulations, Melkov, your girl is a miracle. Ballerina killed Petliura, Admiral Darlan, and a couple of Spanish fascist generals for us. She got us Louis Barthou's memorandum on the French negotiations in the Balkans, gave us the entire network of French agents in the Czech Republic in '46, told us all about General De Gaulle's sedition... and now she has given us the identity of the most threatening and remarkable being in the history of mankind. The Special Scientific Team has made great progress. None of Luthor's madness or risky bets. And we have the name and the face under which the alien lives. Glasses! How ridiculous! Great work, Melkov. I know you think, like Beria, that we must wait to find out what those craters are... but if we don't act soon, we'll all disappear too, disintegrated, leaving a hole. Ah, Melkov! Sometimes we must take a risk. Forget this matter for now. The rest will be taken care of by the Special Scientific Team, although I think we'll use your dear Ballerina. She's an excellent woman and we need her. You should go to your dacha for a few days."

He thought it was a death threat, but through Minister Bulganin, he found out that Stalin wanted to promote him to general despite his doubts. Stalin's words had been, "That Melkov is brilliant and loyal, but sentimental. What happened to him in '37 was because he was soft. But he's the best. His Ballerina is fantastic, but it makes no sense to bring her back. She's a cosmopolitan, a Jew too accustomed to bourgeois life and dealing with foreigners. Here, she would be counterproductive and might even become disloyal, but wherever she goes, she reaps us successes."

At least Stalin and the Special Scientific Team didn't have the real name of Superwoman, Clara Kent. Melkov wrote her initials in a piece of paper and then erase them. Clara Kent, journalist, 31 years old. A young woman of humble origins, raised on a farm. Probably arrived on Earth as a child. What if he was wrong? What if Stalin was right? He had to buy time.

21 December 1949

Metropolis

Clara Kent watched intently as Roberta organized some files the journalist had requested. Roberta had been right in her suspicions about the Toyman and Sebastian, something that Clara, like the police, might not have discovered on her own. It was Roberta who first saw the connection between the Toyman and his former employee. Would the girl ever know that she was the one who discovered the Toyman's lair? In the last 24 hours, both the police and the FBI had thoroughly searched Mr. Sebastian's residence on Sentinel Hill and issued a warrant for Dr. Quinzel's arrest. Christmas parades in major East Coast cities had been discreetly canceled, although private celebrations in stores and communities continued with few exceptions. The public was not informed of the findings at Sentinel Hill. As a precaution, the cancellation of mass events was recommended. Public attention was diverted to the alleged gas meteors that had struck a few days earlier, a theory criticized by some independent experts as absurd and possibly a government distraction.

Fed up with the authorities' concealments, Clara, acting as Superwoman, had shared information with Vicki Vale of the Gotham Tribune and John Jameson of the Metropolis Post about the finding at Sentinel Hill and the new threat the Toyman posed, including his association with Dr. Quinzel. Some police officers, equally concerned about the lack of transparency, had corroborated the information leaked by the superheroine. Soon, the public would learn that the Toyman and at least one accomplice had kidnapped a toy designer and were likely near Metropolis.

Roberta lifted her head, shaking her braids.

"Miss Kent, when are we going to see Mrs. Zelag to talk about Mr. Sebastian?"

Clara sighed and lowered her voice.

"They beat us to it, honey. Someone from the Metropolis Post told me this morning. Somehow, the police got to Mr. Sebastian's house early yesterday...and they found traces of Toyman and Dr. Quinzel. They've kept it secret. The Gotham Tribune and the Metropolis Post will leak it tomorrow. You were absolutely right, Roberta...but the police beat us to it. That happens sometimes; you can't tell anyone."

The girl blushed and then seemed to relax.

"And you didn't want to tell me, Miss Kent? Well, we were right, Sebastian and Dr. Quinzel! Do you know anything else? It's frustrating; it should have been us, Miss Kent!"

"Sometimes it's better for the police to get ahead, honey." Clara was trying to appear nonchalant as she looked through a fashion magazine.

"Or Superwoman...Well, what's known about Mr. Sebastian?"

"I'm not sure; the leak suggests that he might have been kidnapped!"

Roberta snorted and uttered a childish curse that made Clara blush.

"Great Scott! Roberta! Don't swear! I've never heard you swear before!"

"Sorry, Miss Kent... It's just that we were so close. If we had looked into it earlier, maybe we could have done something...or alerted the police sooner, what bad luck!"

"Well, the police will do their job, and Superwoman, if they need her."

"Let's hope they don't need her. Speaking of Superwoman, do you really believe those craters and the sinking of the Queen Anne were caused by gas meteors?"

"Uh...I guess so."

"I don't think so. Superwoman would have noticed if gas meteors were falling. They're hiding something from us. Something that even Superwoman couldn't foresee."

"Roberta, dear, calm down, we can't juggle everything at once or doubt everything." Clara adopted a tone of serenity that made the young girl look at her skeptically.

I need some fresh air. Maybe it was time to patrol the city, or the skies of the entire planet. Clara made up an excuse about a meeting and slipped out of the office. She was about to disappear down the service staircase when she ran into several employees of the World magazine led by Louis, smoking as always, wrapped in a heavy coat and scarf, carrying a penguin plush. With apprehension and out of habit, Clara used her X-ray vision to confirm it was indeed a stuffed toy, sighing in relief when she saw only cotton stuffing. Louis gave her a half-smile.

"How are you, Clara?"

Clara didn't know how to answer; too many things were going through her head and too many worries. Louis stepped aside a bit and gently took her hand, lowering his voice.

"Sorry to bother you... It's about the craters... Are we safe?"

"No, I don't know what they are. What the government is saying is a lie," Clara replied in a whisper.

Louis responded with a look of sadness and concern.

"I'm on it, and so are The Flash and Batman and the government... We don't want to cause panic. I don't know why I'm telling you this. Please don't say anything." Clara insisted.

"My lips are sealed." Louis was no longer looking at her but at the penguin plush with sadness.

"For Emily?" Clara asked tenderly.

"Yes, it's one of her Christmas gifts, she loves penguins. It's also my favorite animal."

"Louis...please. The Toyman... It's going public tomorrow. Roberta was right. He was hiding with Mr. Sebastian. We went to his house. They've already left. Dr. Quinzel was with them too. We believe they're going to act soon. Please, don't take Emily to any crowds or any Christmas parades. Be careful." Clara whispered gravely.

Louis took a while to respond as he thoughtfully inspected the plush.

"I'm very sorry for everything. Thank you so much, Clara, for all you do. You must be overwhelmed. Emily is with her mother. I'll call her today and tell her to be careful. Thank you, really," Clara detected a deep stupor in his tone of voice.

Without saying goodbye, Louis turned his back and stepped into the elevator, not glancing over his shoulder as the doors closed. Clara stood for a moment, watching him leave, her expression unreadable. Then, in a burst of superhuman speed, she sprinted up the narrow service stairs to the rooftop. As she climbed, she slipped out of her flannel suit and silk shirt, her red cape unfurling behind her like a banner in the wind. Up, up, and away!

December 23, 1949

Metropolis

Approximately 04.30 a.m.

Even before his retirement, Magistrate Alastair Fantino was known as "The Owl" for his habit of staying up late, a habit his wife found intolerable. If he had always gone to bed late, he did so even more now, with the deep nervousness he had felt since he knew that the Toyman had escaped. Judge Fantino had ordered the liquidation and embargo of Winslow Schott's toy companies in 1932. He had miraculously escaped the bombs of 1933 but knowing that the madman who had sworn to kill him was back on the streets caused him undeniable anguish. He spent sleepless nights sitting by the window, listening to the radio and reading. He was so engrossed in the radio program about the political tensions in Korea that he did not notice a small Superwoman doll with a small propeller the size of a hand coming toward his window. Fantino heard a light tap on the window and turned around. His heart stopped when he saw what looked like a Superwoman plush toy on the window. Instinctively, he dropped to the ground. The second between the Toyman pressing the remote button and the doll exploding saved his life but left him badly injured. The explosion also injured several of his neighbors and his wife. Barely half a minute after the blast, amid screams for help and chaos, Superwoman arrived on the scene and rushed all the injured to the hospital while police and firefighters arrived. The Toyman, now with a shaved head, square glasses and a mustache that completely distorted his appearance, took advantage of the confusion to escape, somewhat annoyed that the explosion had been less than expected.

Approximately 07.00 a.m.

Sebastian lowered his head at the screams of Dr. Quinzel, once again dressed in her Venetian red-and-black harlequin garb, with eerie white makeup on her face and red around her eyes. Beside her, Winslow Schott, the Toyman, twirled his mustache nervously. Half a dozen armed men dressed as clowns roamed the warehouse.

"There's not a single death yet! It's a failure! How is it possible that the explosion was so small?" Dr. Quinzel shouted, brandishing her mallet menacingly.

"It wasn't small, the facade is completely cracked, and there are many injured, probably some will die... It's because Sebastian didn't put enough explosive," The Toyman angrily turned to Sebastian.

"I put it in! I used the maximum! If I had used more, the doll wouldn't have flown, and it would have been useless!" Sebastian defended himself resolutely, making an immense effort because he was lying, and lying was something he was very bad at and had never done before.

Dr. Quinzel approached him and caressed his head with the mallet.

"Oh, Sebastian! If you fail today, I will not kill you with the mallet, but I will cut you into pieces, do you understand? And I will eat your heart and your eyes, I swear," despite the mocking tone, Sebastian knew she was telling the truth.

"Ev-everything's going to be all right," Sebastian said, shaking.

"Let's check the marbles to see if you're cheating."

Dr. Quinzel danced over to one of the men dressed as a clown who was preparing some boxes and threw some marbles at his feet. The marbles seemed to explode, releasing a white smoke that seemed to spark. Dr. Quinzel did a backflip to escape the smoke while the man coughed violently and collapsed unconscious. A few seconds passed and Dr. Quinzel approached him again. She hit him with the mallet; the man remained unconscious. Then she turned to Toyman and Sebastian with a malicious smile.

"Not everyone can achieve enlightenment today! I never liked this one, he was too clumsy." Turning, she began to smash the man's skull with the mallet while laughing. Sebastian closed his eyes, holding back tears while listening to the greasy sound of the mallet and the blood.

"All right, everyone to their positions. I will wait here. Ping and Pang will each carry two remote controls. They will detonate two small soldiers at Menken's Store. Then they will go to the police station with the stuffed animals and blow them up. Surely, they will take many people with them at both locations, and they themselves will attain enlightenment there," two burly men in clown masks nodded from a few feet away. Dr. Quinzel continued, "Then Bang and Bong will look for children in the city and give them our fantastic marbles and bring them here for me to prepare the sacrifice. Afterwards, they'll release beautiful nitroglycerine balloons around the park, BOOM! It will be a great surprise!" another man and woman dressed as clowns nodded in agreement. Sebastian didn't know where they were from. Dr. Quinzel turned to them, "Meanwhile, Mr. Schott and little Mr. Sebastian will go with six remote controls. They will perform magic tricks with six toys, including my favorite, the hedgehog, and then return here to help me with the sacrifice. If they are not back by five o'clock, I will do it myself. And only me would be enlightened by the supreme grace of Arwassa!"

Sebastian looked at Winslow, whose eyes sparkled with excitement at such a terrible plan. He had failed to sabotage the marbles and balloons and had prayed that Superwoman and the police would catch Bang and Bong in time. He had no luck with Ping and Pang's remote controls either, since they had tested them the night before. He had only managed to sabotage two of the six remotes that Winslow and he would use. Perhaps this would be enough to stop Winslow and alert the police and Superwoman. But how could he save the children that Dr. Quinzel wanted to kidnap? He didn't know the town. He didn't even know where the warehouse was where they had been working for several days, preparing the "sacrifice". He felt a great desire to cry and infinite fatigue. Sabotaging those remote controls was the hardest thing he had ever done.

Approximately 08.30 a.m.

Roberta Lee quickly got ready, gathering her notebook and the fountain pen given to her by Louis Lane. The last Friday before Christmas was a public holiday in Metropolis, a day when residents would awake to the alarming news of Toyman's hideout in a Miskatonic residence, now menacing the city with the aid of his former psychiatrist. This news likely meant the cancellation of all neighborhood Christmas parades and maybe a general reluctance for last-minute holiday shopping. While some newspapers might report on the attack on Judge Fantino, Roberta was yet unaware of this tragic event.

Jimmy had shared with her stories of Clara's initial forays into journalism—articles penned during her time as a wartime nurse and her early pieces in Metropolis. Clara had a knack for being at the heart of action, whether at field hospitals caring for the wounded or navigating the bustling streets of Metropolis. Her commitment to engaging with people and capturing the essence of their experiences from various perspectives was what she did best. This approach, termed "human interest journalism" by Cat Grant (who found it trivial), was admired by Perry Weiss. Such a method was rare among Daily Planet staffers, yet it captivated Roberta. Inspired, she planned to explore the city before her parents could read about the day's news, intending to converse with families and children about their views on the Toyman, Superwoman, and the mysterious gas meteors. Through these interactions, she aimed to craft a narrative to share with Clara. Roberta realized that to excel in journalism, she needed to develop her unique voice while drawing inspiration from the different styles of the best ones, and Clara was her favorite journalist.

Approximately 10:00 a.m.

Superwoman hovered at nearly three thousand feet above Metropolis, a vast city of eight million people, almost thirteen counting the metropolitan area. People from all walks of life... even an alien like her, an alien from northeast Kansas. Her red cape floated in the morning light. It was a very dreary day, cloudy and windy. The Woman of Steel closed her eyes and concentrated on the millions of voices that came to her. She would spend the entire day patrolling the city. She kept thinking about the wounded from the attack on Judge Fantino. She should have been able to stop it. Superwoman had acted quickly, getting a dozen people to the hospital in a matter of minutes, but she should have been able to prevent the explosion. The Toyman would act soon. She knew it. Last night had been a small appetizer from a sick mind.

Clara had spent the whole afternoon and the night before either flying like Superwoman or going through Louis' notes on the case, with as much attention as she was capable of. Now she had to find out where the Toyman could strike. Clara had at least two locations and four people in mind. The Belmoth Building, where the 22nd through 25th floors had housed Winslow Schott's business when he seemed to be a sane inventor and entrepreneur, and the Menken Department Store, where Schott had opened his first toy store in 1914 which closed in 1933. The threated people were two surviving members of the board of directors, a retired Metropolis Times reporter who accused Schott of tax evasion, and a psychiatrist who tried to have him declared insane before his killing spree in '33. Batman had the switchboards of every police station in the Metropolis area tapped, and he and Alfred were listening for any distress call. If they heard anything related to the Toyman, they would send the Woman of Steel a message via radio ultrasounds that only she could hear. Flash would also be patrolling the city. Clara felt more tired than ever and a little lonely, even though she was getting a lot of help, but that was not the important thing. What mattered were the millions of souls at her feet. Each of one was precious. She sighed, opened her arms, and descended into the city at full speed.

Approximately 10.30 a.m.

Bronx

Four boys were playing with marbles on an empty lot in Port Morris, in the Bronx, on the concrete foundation of a building that was never built after the crash of '29. A fifth child arrived with a large bag of red and blue marbles.

"Look what I've got! A clown just gave them to me. They're really cool. We've been trying them out. They're heavy, but they don't break, and they bounce a lot. He wanted to sell me a bag for 10 cents, but in the end, he gave it to me for free." The child shook the bag happily.

One of the children looked suspiciously at the marbles.

"Bobby, you shouldn't take things from strangers."

"Nor should you be afraid of taking chances, uh, these are great marbles, Moe. Don't be such a baby."

The child grabbed a handful of four or five marbles and threw them into the center of the group to demonstrate their quality...but instead, the marbles seemed to explode and white smoke with sparks surrounded them. The children began to cough and run away. They didn't realize that two clowns were encircling them and also throwing explosive marbles. Four children fell unconscious to the ground and were picked up by the clowns. Only one managed to run away while screaming in panic. It was Bobby. It took him several minutes to find someone and tell the story through tears. By then, the clowns were already in a van carrying away the four unconscious children.

00 a.m.

Menken Store

Clara walked through the large Menken department store, in its grand lobby with a forty-foot Christmas tree. To her dismay, it was filled with families. Her heart was pounding. There were too many children. Please God, let nothing happen. She took the elevator up to the toy section of the store, which used to be Schott's Toy Store. There were lots of children, whole families. She didn't see anything or anyone strange. Two clowns had just come down in the previous elevator, but Clara didn't see them. She entered the crowded toy store and began to inspect the toys with her x-ray vision. Clara had already checked several stores and elevators, and had sneaked into a warehouse where a security guard had rudely thrown her out... She was distracted by a mechanical teddy bear that said "Hello!" when a string was pulled. Fortunately, there was nothing dangerous inside. As she carefully inspected the teddy bear shelf, lowering her glasses, Clara noticed that a child was staring at her too intently, mouth agape.

"Hello!" Clara smiled at the child. He continued to stare at her without answering.

"Can I help you, sweetheart?" Clara insisted. The child lowered his head. "Are you okay? Where are your parents?" Clara looked around.

"You look like Superwoman." The child finally said bluntly.

Clara sighed. "Oh sweetheart, no one has ever told me that. You're so cute, I don't think I look like her." She smiled and left. Then she started to look at some shelves with mechanical soldiers. They had lead armor, which prevented her from seeing what was inside with her x-ray vision. She sighed, annoyed. She started to check them one by one, bringing them close to her ear, hoping to hear a sound. Tick-Tock. Her heart stopped. Holding the soldier for a moment, she decided to use her superhuman speed to inspect or destroy each of the toys. In the crowded toy store, her frantic activity manifested as a surprising whirlwind that tossed the toys around, scaring everyone present. A second Tick-Tock, a second soldier. Clara grabbed them and flew out of the toy store at super speed, towards the roof of the lobby, to general admiration and surprise. She broke through the glass ceiling just as the soldiers exploded. The blast didn't hurt her, but her clothes were torn to shreds and her glasses disintegrated, revealing her Superwoman suit and red cape. The force of the explosion blew out the glass dome of the Menken Department Store. Thousands of pieces of glass, large and small, fell on shoppers and employees. Superwoman, shedding the remnants of her civilian clothes at super-speed, moved people out of harm's way while also using her super-strength and heat-vision to pulverize the glass, protecting everyone around her.

People began screaming in panic and running for the exits. No one listened to Superwoman's pleas for calm. She had to use her super speed to prevent people from falling and children from being crushed. A woman with a baby carriage was pushed from the third-floor railing by the crowd. Superwoman flew in time to catch the mother and baby, holding each in one arm and returning them to the third floor. The panic caused more havoc than the explosion of the soldiers and the dome.

"EVERYONE PLEASE, YOU ARE SAFE..."

Before she could finish the sentence, the huge blaze of an explosion burst from the bathroom door, sending shards of stone, wood, glass and ceramic flying. In a split second, Superwoman spread her cape and shielded two children from the conflagration as they clung to the Woman of Steel. The children cried, "Superwoman!"

"Don't worry. It's okay, you're safe. I'm with you." Clara hugged them, kissed each one on the cheek, covered them with her cape, and carried with super-speed the kids out of the store. She went back inside and put out the fire with her cooling breath. The explosion hadn't been very big, fortunately there were hardly any injuries, all minor and no children... but the bomb had been placed in the bathrooms of the east wing on the ground floor for a specific reason. The explosion had affected part of the essential structure of the building. There were cracks everywhere. With her x-ray vision, she could see the beams struggling to keep from buckling and collapsing. God, please, no, help me! She thought to freeze the walls and cracks with her cooling breath, hoping that encasing them in ice would prevent the collapse. The concrete contracted with the cold, and chunks of the walls and ceiling fell, but the steel beams were good conductors of heat, which meant that the cold would spread quickly along the structure. The cold increased the resistance of the metals for a while. As the Woman of Tomorrow glided through all the corners at super speed, freezing them, she took out all the injured and people who had not yet left the building. Soon she saw Flash around her, taking people out as well.

"Flash! God bless you! Please get everyone out! I'm taking them to the hospital right now."

"At your command, Superwoman!"

Superwoman finished freezing the entire east wing of the large building and evacuated everyone. The freezing seemed to have slowed the collapse of the beams and the appearance of cracks. There were dozens of injuries, mostly from falls or superficial burns from the explosion. Hundreds could have died. Superwoman sighed, it wasn't enough, but it had been close to something much worse.

The firemen and police arrived and saluted Superwoman. The Maid of Might barely had time to address them; she was comforting some children whose father had been slightly injured. She was promising them he would be alright.

"The east wing of the building is collapsing. The Flash and I have evacuated everyone, there's no one left inside. We have many people with minor injuries. Please be very careful. There's no fire, but we don't know if there's another bomb. As soon as we get the injured who need the most urgent medical attention to the hospital, we will come back to help you."

Superwoman scooped up a teenage boy in a hunting cap who had a broken leg, tried to reassure him, and took off. "Easy honey, I can see it with my x-ray vision, I know it hurts but it's not serious, a few weeks in a cast and you'll be fine."

As she was descending towards the hospital an ultrasound came in from Bruce and Alfred, "Clara! Men dressed as clowns kidnapped four children in the Bronx about half an hour ago. Police are already combing the area." Clara gritted her teeth and flew at a higher speed.

11.30 a.m.

Upper West Side.

Winslow and Sebastian, both wearing sunglasses, walked discreetly through the doorway of an apartment building without attracting suspicious glances. People on Metropolis were already listening to the latest news on the radio. The attack on Judge Fantino the night before, the recent incident at Menken's department store, and the kidnapping of four children... The wave of reports about the attacks by the Toyman and his accomplices filled the inhabitants of Metropolis with unease, jeopardizing the joy of Christmas.

Winslow Schott, known as the Toyman, was already driven mad by a desire for vengeance and the relentless bombardment of esoteric delusions from Dr. Quinzel, who spoke to him of spiritual beings who relished rule-breaking, vengeance and blood. Beings that could finally alleviate his pain and suffering. Sebastian and the Toyman carried a suitcase up to the apartment Dr. Quinzel had rented through an agency. Seven apartments had been rented: each one relatively close to one of the Toyman's designated targets. Winslow had already used one the night before against Judge Fantino. In each of these apartments, they had left a toy ready to be remotely controlled, or they had already sent a package to the target. Now, Toyman and Sebastian were poised to use the remote controls, ready to fly the toys up to the designated windows or detonate the explosives as soon as the targets received their deliveries. They stepped into the apartment, and the first thing Winslow did was switch on the radio. As the announcer praised Superwoman and the Flash for preventing what could have been a catastrophe at Menken's Department Store—an attack that could have killed hundreds but left only a few dozen with minor injuries—Winslow erupted in fury. He cursed loudly, kicking the table in frustration as the broadcast played on, mocking his failed plan.

"That damn flying clown! I don't care! She'll see what's coming with the balloons of Central Park! Those balloons have her symbol and her face on them! She will be forever tied to a bunch of kids who will burst like balloons themselves! And she won't be able to avoid the sacrifice! We will be enlightened!"

Sebastian began to cry silently, turning his back on Winslow. The mere image of dead children made him tremble with pain. He had to do it. Winslow was evil. The world had hurt him, but no matter how much the world hurt you, it didn't give you the right to do evil. Sebastian was alone and had been hurt too, but he didn't want to hurt anyone. Winslow was not good. He didn't care about him. He just used him to do evil. Sebastian repeated this to himself two or three times. Then he pulled out a remote control with a notch in one corner.

"Sebastian, give me the hedgehog's remote control. The package has already arrived. Hehehe, Mr. Halloran thinks his brother sent it to him. I can see through the binoculars that it's been left on his office desk. As soon as that damned Henry Halloran comes in, he'll look like a sieve. Oh, there's his daughter and granddaughter. Damn, we should have sent them something with explosives in it. Well, if the girl or the daughter comes to the package instead of him, that's fine with me too. The remote, Sebastian."

Sebastian handed him the remote with the notch on it. Winslow almost snatched it out of his hands with a triumphant expression. Sebastian reached behind Winslow and pulled out another remote control. His effort to hold back tears caught the attention of Winslow, who turned around.

"But what are you doing with that remote, it's not your turn to use it..."

Sebastian pressed the button on his remote controller and closed his eyes. A strong electric shock came from Winslow's controller. With his eyes closed, he was not able to see how Winslow's burned hands and the melted plastic of the remote control merged into a single scorching mass, how the Toyman's new moustache stood on end amidst sparks, how part of his clothes were charred, and how his glasses flew off as the villain moaned in pain and fell down, electrocuted but still alive.

Not wanting to look at the writhing, trembling body, Sebastian ran out into the hallway shouting, "Help! Police! Police! Superwoman! I've got the Toyman!"

***

At the same time, Roberta walked through a nearly deserted Central Park with a notepad. She had managed to interview a few families, but almost everyone had gone home as soon as word spread of the kidnapping of four children by clowns and the explosion at Menken's Department Store. Almost everyone was confident that Superwoman would catch the Toyman soon, and that's why they'd come out, but the news, now spreading by word of mouth, had scared people away. Roberta saw Superwoman take to the skies several times, probably carrying wounded. She gasped as she watched her fly through the sky at super speed, leaving that red trail behind her, "Wow...It's amazing what she can do. Who could have such fantastic abilities and still use them only to help others. It's amazing."

A pair of clowns stepped out of a dark green van parked at the edge of the avenue bordering the northern side of Central Park, right beside a subway entrance. They were just two figures in costumes, each holding a cluster of six Superwoman balloons. Roberta found the scene peculiar. Balloon clowns typically carried far more balloons and inflated them on the spot. Offering just twelve balloons didn't seem like a profitable move. Besides, the balloons were unusually large, nearly three feet tall. Maybe she was being paranoid, but something didn't sit right with her, especially after hearing about the recent child kidnappings in the Bronx, allegedly carried out by clowns. The unsettling event had already made its way onto the radio, spreading through the city, even discussed by the taxi drivers Roberta overheard just minutes earlier.

Unknown to Roberta, these Superwoman balloons contained a dangerous secret: they were carefully sealed and filled with hydrogen, with a small bag of nitroglycerin inside, and equipped with a simple detonator that would be activated when the balloon string was released after prolonged use. During testing, one of Dr. Quinzel's henchmen was torn to pieces when the balloon burst, and it was discovered that the string was released after 10-15 minutes of agitation. The clowns, named Bang and Bong, were on a mission to quickly sell the balloons to any families they could find or, failing that, throw them at nearby buildings, expecting them to explode and wreak havoc within minutes.

But Roberta knew something was wrong, a reporter's intuition, a sixteen-year-old cub reporter (though Clara thought she was seventeen) who was neglecting her studies. She kept spying on them because she had nothing better to do. I'm being silly, maybe they're just poor clowns. They were selling balloons somewhere else, and with the whole Menken's Department Store bombing mess and the kidnapping of the children, they missed a day's work… Two families with children who came to the subway bought one balloon each. An older man, probably a grandfather, accompanied by four children, bought two more balloons. Roberta approached discreetly, thinking about asking the clowns how they felt about the day and the Toyman attacks.

"Hi, little girl!"

Roberta ignored one of the clowns who treated her like a child. "Hi, good morning! I work for the Daily Planet, would you like to answer a few questions about how the public views the events of the past few days?"

"Little girl, would you like a balloon?"

Roberta sighed and took the balloon. She stood up, a little cold, and pulled up the collar of her coat.

"What do you think about the Menken's Department Store bombing? Did you hear that some clowns kidnapped some kids in the Bronx?" Roberta persisted.

"Little girl, would you like another balloon?"

Roberta rolled her eyes and walked away. A mother and her child bought another balloon. Only six balloons were left for the clowns. Roberta looked at the balloon, it was Superwoman, drawn a bit unnatural and shaped rather strangely. It wasn't a very appealing balloon, but strangely enough, the face was painted very much like the real Superwoman's. Roberta suddenly felt a certain distaste for the balloon and felt very childish holding it, so she let it go. She stood and watched the balloon rise into the sky. It was almost lost in the blue when, to her surprise, she saw it explode in a ball of fire and smoke. Her heart stopped and her eyes widened like saucers. She understood immediately. She quickly glanced at the clowns who were looking up at the smoke in the sky caused by the burst of Roberta's balloon. They released their six balloons and ran away.

"RELEASE THE BALLOONS! RELEASE THE BALLOONS! BOMBS! THE BALLOONS ARE BOMBS!" Roberta ran through the park, screaming and waving her arms. She ran to the grandpa with the four kids and the two balloons. She jumped on them and made them release the two balloons, which went off into the sky. The children were crying, and the grandfather didn't understand what had just happened. Meanwhile, three of the balloons released by the clowns were stuck on the windowsills of several buildings, and the other three joined the other two released by Roberta in the heights. The girl ran frantically through the park looking for the mother and child who had also bought a balloon... Oh dear, there were two other families who had each bought a balloon and rode the subway with them. Hundreds of people could die.

Almost breathless, Roberta found the mother and child she was looking for, sitting on a bench, looking quizzically at the explosions above them, uncomprehending and without letting go of the balloon.

"LET GO OF THE BALLOON, IT'S A BOMB!" Roberta shouted. The boy was petrified and did not let go of the balloon. Roberta lunged at him, "PLEASE RELEASE IT!" the balloon slipped from his hands but caught in the branches of the tree above them. "RUN!" Roberta tearfully but determinedly pulled the mother and child who began to run. The girl was running after them when she heard, or rather felt, a warm rumble and an incredible force threw her forward. She fell hard on the grass, hurting her nose, but the heat behind her suddenly disappeared, and the roar was replaced by a strange gale of coolness.

Blood spurting from her nose, Roberta turned and watched as Superwoman, wrapped in her bright red cape, blew a cooling breath onto the burning tree, extinguishing the flames. Somehow, the Woman of Steel had prevented the explosion from spreading and reaching her, smothering the fire as well. The heroine, turning and noticing their distress, tried to offer them a comforting smile despite her obvious concern. Levitating toward them, she first approached the mother and child, still in shock, to help them to their feet. Roberta looked at her, overwhelmed and speechless. As she approached, Superwoman maintained her smile, though she couldn't hide her surprise at seeing the girl.

"But Roberta...you! What are you doing here? Are you all right?"

"Mrs. El! You remember me!"

"You saved our lives..." The boy's mother managed to articulate a few words, pointing at Roberta.

Superwoman's eyes lit up and she looked at Roberta in admiration. "Wow, you were very brave... Can you tell me what happened?"

"Bombs! Bombs disguised as ballons! Some clowns were passing them out! Please run! They had twelve balloons. Six have already exploded, I had one. I got some kids to release two more, and the last one just exploded. The clowns released the others, I don't know where they are...the others... I don't know... for God's sake, two families bought balloons and got on the subway! Hundreds could die!" Roberta ran over with the explanation. "Ah, they were Superwoman balloons, balloons with your face on them!"

Superwoman put her hand on the girl's shoulder and looked at her firmly, "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything right now. Shout loudly if you see anyone with another balloon like that."

The Maid of Might sighed and took off into the sky. Thanks to her telescopic vision, she soon spotted three more balloons on the windowsills of nearby buildings. I don't have enough time; I must get to the subway right away. Superwoman picked up the three balloons at super speed and felt them explode, but her body and cape covered the burst, creating only a rumble that shook the windows of dozens of buildings.

I must make it. I have to avoid the bombing of the subway... It could be a lot worse than the Menken Department Store!

As she muttered a prayer, Superwoman flew at super speed through the mouth of the subway. People were petrified or threw themselves to the ground in her wake. There was only one line. She had to decide quickly which way she would check first. It didn't matter. She flew down the tunnel to her left, where she heard a train was closer. In a few seconds she made it to the subway cars. She landed on the roof and began to inspect the cars one by one with her x-ray vision. The cars were full of people. Her heart was in her fist. Focus Clara, watch out, watch out! In the fifth car she could see a family of five. The one holding the Superwoman balloon was the father. Thank God, only one is missing! Superwoman cut a hole in the roof of the car with her hands, using her super-strength to rip off the metal sheets, and climbed through, descending smoothly. The people in the subway stared at her in ecstasy, horror, or with saucer eyes.

"A thousand pardons. I'm sorry to disturb you. I'll only be a moment. I beg your pardon." She tried to sound calm.

In a split second, she planted herself in front of the man.

"I need that balloon, please. A thousand pardons." She turned to the children and winked at them, though inside Superwoman was trembling and her heart was pounding. The man held the balloon out to her, almost without understanding, and Superwoman disappeared through the hole in the roof of the car in the blink of an eye. Without leaving the tunnel, she wrapped the balloon in her cape and used her heat vision to blow it up as she spun like a top at super speed. The explosion, which could have blown up a subway car or two, or even collapsed the tunnel, was contained to Superwoman's nearly indestructible red cape, which billowed out, letting the light of the explosion shine through. Then the superheroine unfurled the cape, leaving behind a cloud of black smoke. Thank God! I must find the last one!

She flew back to the cars and inspected the rest without seeing any Superwoman balloons. Clara flew on to the next station and the following one, seeing no one with the balloon she was looking for. She got to the next train and nothing either. Please, please, please. The superheroine turned around and flew in the other direction of the subway line. In less than a minute, she inspected two more trains at super speed with her x-ray vision. Stations, nothing. At the third station... YES! HALLELUJAH! A carefree little girl carried a Superwoman balloon beside her parents as they climbed the stairs to the street.

The little girl just felt a red and blue blur pass her by, as her Superwoman balloon disappeared. Coming out of her stupor as she climbed the stairs to the street, she saw a rumble in the sky and a red trail leading away.

2:00 P.M.

Metropolis Central Police Station.

Superwoman walked timidly down the corridor of the police station as some officers applauded and others removed their hats and caps in a show of respect. The Woman of Steel had prevented a massacre in Central Park, at Menken's Department Store, and on the subway. At noon, two clowns with stuffed animals filled with explosives tried to surrender at the police station, but Superwoman managed to rip the stuffed animals from them and destroy the bombs with her heat vision. The two clowns refused to testify about the whereabouts of the kidnapped children, despite threats from the police.

Most of all, the public rejoiced at the capture of the Toyman. Winslow Schott, the mass-murderer known as the Toyman, now lay agonizing in North Metropolis Presbyterian Hospital, unconscious with second- and third-degree burns, all thanks to Mr. Sebastian, his hostage. But neither Superwoman nor the cops, despite their glee, could rest easy: the perpetrators' clown masks and the kidnapping of the children indicated that Dr. Quinzel was the real mastermind behind the monstrosity, in a tribute to Gotham's late Joker, Arthur Fleck. The Toyman was merely a tool of Dr. Quinzel's. Now all that remained was to find the four children before it was too late.

Mr. Sebastian sat shivering in an interrogation room. Superwoman watched him through the wall with her x-ray vision. He was a middle-aged man, thin and short, with a certain stoop that indicated back problems or a limp. His face was boyish and ruddy, a kind and sympathetic face, like that of a child who had suddenly aged. But he trembled constantly, and his eyes were sad. I hope I can comfort you, and I hope you can help us, Superwoman said to herself.

One of the policemen, without looking at Superwoman, addressed his companions in a contemptuous tone. "Mr. Sebastian's a moron. He's really mentally retarded. He's scared to death. This fellow doesn't understand or know what's being asked of him. He just cries and asks us to help the children, but he has no ability to think or help us."

Superwoman looked at the policeman fiercely, then sadly. "This man is the one who caught the Toyman and stopped him from attacking. You should be grateful and kind to him. He is a person with many difficulties, and yet he managed to capture and escape a crazily dangerous criminal. Have a minimum of kindness. If you allow me, I will talk to him."

The policeman turned away disdainfully, and another officer invited her in. Superwoman stood in the doorway, smiling.

Mr. Sebastian's face lit up, "Superwoman!"

Clara smiled, that man inspired a strange confidence in her and radiated friendliness. She approached Mr. Sebastian and took his hand in both of hers. "Call me Kala or Mrs. El, Mr. Sebastian, as you prefer. It's a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for what you did today. You are a hero. I am very grateful to you."

"The children...I couldn't sabotage the balloons or the toys... the people, I..." The man was somewhere between confused and agitated.

"Mr. Sebastian, everything is fine. I managed to avoid the attack on the Menken's Department Store and the balloon thing in the park and the subway. And you neutralized Winslow and prevented further attacks. All that remains is to find the children. You must help me. You are the only one who can help me. I know that you're very intelligent and very observant. You left us the message in Morse code and alerted us. And you were very brave. You are the one who caught the Toyman."

Mr. Sebastian looked more relieved now. "I'm not stupid, Mrs. El... I have some problems, but..."

"Of course you're not! We all have problems. Look at me, I was a very sickly child. And then I was very afraid of my abilities, and it took me too many years to start helping people. Now I need you to help me and the four children who have been kidnapped. Once we capture Dr. Quinzel, this will all be over."

"I am not a monster Mrs. El, I helped Winslow make toys because he forced me to, I was threatened. And she is vile, Dr. Quinzel. She is evil. She thinks that demons want her to do these terrible things and that by doing them she'll cross over to another world. She's insane. She took advantage of Winslow, who was a very sick man, and Winslow took advantage of me... that I'm a weak man. I don't want to go to jail, Mrs. El."

"Mr. Sebastian, how is it possible for you to be facing jail time? Especially when you've been a victim of kidnapping, yet you managed to escape and even apprehend the culprit! Rest assured. I'll make it my priority to inform the newspapers of your heroic actions. I'll ensure that your story is known far and wide. But now we must focus on the children, I need your help."

"I don't want to know anything about journalists, please, I want to be left alone."

"We will do that. But please. You must tell me where the children are."

"I don't know... I don't know the exact place... I don't know the city. I've been there. She made me sleep on the floor and wouldn't let me out. It's a dark warehouse. Dr. Quinzel says it belongs to some friends of hers who also want "enlightenment". She's going to kill them. Right after sunset. She's going to kill them."

Superwoman squeezed his arm. "And we're going to stop her."

The Woman of Steel saw a map of Manhattan, the central island of Metropolis, on the table.

"Mr. Sebastian, you really like clocks, don't you? And mental arithmetic?"

"Yes, both."

"I'll bet you know how to calculate how long it takes to get from one place to another. With your clock."

"Yes, that's right."

"How long did it take you to get from the warehouse where you slept to the house where you captured Winslow?"

"Eighteen minutes."

"On foot or by car?"

"By car, mostly all the way. We got a ride from the clowns. Then we had to walk. 14 minutes by car and 4 minutes on foot."

"Excellent, that helps us a lot. Tell me. Did you come from the south or the north, the east or the west?"

"I don't know... I don't like the cardinal directions."

Superwoman sighed. "Easy. Don't worry. Did you cross any bridges?"

"I don't know...yes...well no... I don't know." Sebastian sank his face into his hands.

"We'll make it, Mr. Sebastian. Trust me. Try to remember. Recall."

"No, we didn't cross any bridge. Oh, maybe a small one, but very small. And the sun was in my face. I was sitting on the left, in the back of the car."

"So, you were coming down from the north side of town."

"I don't know."

"Take it easy. I've got what I need. I've got super speed and super hearing. Trust me. I'll find the kids. I've got two hours. We'll make it. You've helped me a lot. This is as important as catching the Toyman." Superwoman grabbed his arm and squeezed it affectionately. Mr. Sebastian was excited.

"I must get the children and capture Dr. Quinzel. Don't worry, you won't be here for more than a few hours, and I'll take you home myself. Do you want me to bring you anything?" Superwoman said with a hopeful and encouraging tone.

"I just want to sleep."

"I'll have a bed made up for you right away."

"Thank you, Superwoman."

"Thank you, Mr. Sebastian."

Superwoman left the interrogation room with the map. Outside, a legion of officers was waiting for her. All kinds of faces and expressions. Expectation, anger, concern, fascination....

"You must help me. Dr. Quinzel is in a warehouse in Manhattan itself, or maybe in the Bronx. About 14-18 minutes from where Mr. Sebastian was found with the Toyman. He doesn't know anything else. Please let him sleep and rest. Leave him alone."

04.00 p.m.

North Metropolis

Hours passed as nearly three hundred police cars, accompanied by the Flash and overhead by Superwoman, combed every warehouse and factory in Harlem, Highbridge, Mott Haven, and Port Morris. It was in this area that they had speculated, following Mr. Sebastian's testimony, that Dr. Quinzel and the kidnapped children might be. Despite Superwoman's pleas, the police had taken Mr. Sebastian, who was unable to recognize any location, was often confused, and became increasingly nervous and less communicative.

Superwoman flew again and again over abandoned warehouses as well as full and active ones, inspecting the buildings with her x-ray vision and then moving through them at super-speed. The sun was setting. It would set at five in the afternoon. That was when Mr. Sebastian had told her that Dr. Quinzel intended to make the sacrifice. She heard children crying with her super-hearing, but every time she went down, it was just children being punished, hurt, frustrated, or fighting with each other. She couldn't find the abductees. The kidnapping had taken place in Castle Hill, an area that was also being searched, but it was too far away for the travel time Mr. Sebastian had calculated. Her heart leapt out of her mouth. Four children. Please God, don't let this happen... I'm asking too much of you, but please don't let this happen. She saw the red blur of the Flash nearby and flew towards it. The scarlet speedster had just emerged from an empty warehouse.

"Nothing, damn it. There are thousands and thousands of buildings like this. They could be anywhere, even in the basement of a tenement building." Flash sighed heavily.

"Flash, we need Bruce and Alfred to help us as well. You need to go to Gotham. It'll only take you five or ten minutes to get there. Explain our situation to Bruce and Alfred. Maybe they'll have an idea." Flash nodded and Superwoman took to the skies again, watching anxiously as the gray clouds grew darker as the hidden sun set.

***

Annaak. Arwassa t'hulughai. Annaak. Ulum tz'armenai. Ia! Ia! N'ghftephai n'gha ahornah ah'mglw'nafh!

Dr. Quinzel danced around the bodies of Bang and Bong, the clowns whose mission in Central Park had failed. They had returned with the excuse that Superwoman had arrived too quickly, and the balloons had been slow to explode. Despite their failure, Dr. Quinzel had initially shown sympathy. Then, she stabbed them both in the back. After ensuring the clowns were dead, she tore out their hearts and burned them on a small makeshift altar, surrounded by incense and aromatic woods. The children were bound and blindfolded. Their muffled moans could be heard, though barely. They were too weak to make much sound.

Dr. Quinzel prepared for the ritual. It was her first true sacrifice. The boy she had bludgeoned to death in Arkham had been only an initiation offering, a mere baptism by fire. She had done little else since. Lavinia Whateley and Selena had explained to her that while killing was always welcomed in a world built on lies—and the Gods appreciated it—it was also an unnecessary risk. Killing was only useful when you had a sure plan to continue, or when a great sacrifice or offering was required.

Arthur was intrigued by the Gods, having never heard of them before. He marveled at the idea that one could believe in superior beings for whom chaos and pain were virtues. Though she couldn't make him fully believe in them, there was no doubt in her mind that the Joker's brilliant, chaotic actions were in perfect harmony with the Gods—especially Arwassa. Arthur Fleck, the Joker, had been enlightened without even realizing it. Dr. Quinzel began to use her mallet obscenely. She and Arthur had shared a tempestuous love story in the shadows of the mental hospital, and later, in the Death Corridor of the prison, where everyone had thought she was just a doctor. Together, they had found pleasure in physical pain. Now, all those law enforcement officers who had sent Arthur to the electric chair were in for a big surprise. And so was the Bat of Gotham. She would greet him, too.

It was a setback—the failure of that fat, repulsive Winslow. Dr. Quinzel wasn't sure if the rumors on the radio were true about Mr. Sebastian betraying his master and capturing him. Most likely, the crippled fool had made a mistake, which led to their discovery. The failures of Bang, Bong, Ping, and Pang weighed heavily on her. She had run out of grand massacres, but the abductees were ready for sacrifice. Soon to become AH'R-LIN-KÔIN—the mystical lover and killer—Dr. Quinzel pulled out the indestructible dagger. It was curved and thin, forged from black metal with greenish markings. Selena had assured her that the blade was 22,000 years old, capable of piercing any skin in the universe. It had been unearthed from an ancient tomb in Madagascar a century ago. She would use it to decapitate the children, then sing the Great Chant to Arwassa. Afterward, she would call the police. And when the cars arrived, she would press the detonator, blowing the warehouse, the children, the police, and herself into oblivion. Finally, she would be enlightened…

Dr. Quinzel smeared her face with Bang and Bong's blood and turned to the children. She had set the radio next to them to play dance music. She knew that Superwoman hunted by hearing. She pulled the blindfold from one of them and the tape from his mouth. She could see the look of horror on the boy's face as he saw her eyes, harlequin costume and hat smeared with blood. The boy cried, clenched his teeth, and, to her surprise, screamed, "Help Superwoman! Hang on, boys! We'll be rescued soon!"

Dr. Quinzel slapped him and covered his mouth and eyes again. "Stupid kid, I'm going to cut your head off."

***

With only a few minutes left before sunset, Superwoman flew at super speed with tears in her eyes, trying to focus as much as possible on the thousands of voices she was sensing thanks to her super-hearing. Like an answer to a prayer, an ultrasound beamed in from Bruce.

"Superwoman, I'm with the Flash. I think we've got a lead. I'm not sure how solid it is, but we're running out of time. Remember I told you about the recording of Zatanna Kzatara and the Orthodox priest mentioning Dr. Quinzel and Selena, right? Well, Alfred and I have been investigating Selena on our own for several weeks now. Turns out, Selena had a lawyer in Gotham—Wilbur Whateley. Does that last name ring a bell? A Whateley was accused and executed for the bludgeoning death of a child in Arkham while Dr. Quinzel was a student there. I'm not sure if there's a connection, but the Whateleys had a cookie factory at 115 Bruckner Boulevard in Mott Haven. They shut it down in 1930. Clara, that's the exact area you've been combing..."

Clara's eyes lit up. She couldn't answer Bruce. This had to be it! It had to be! It was too much of a coincidence. Was she up against a vast conspiracy of fanatics who had used the Toyman? This was her last chance. She might not get anywhere, but she had to try. She flew at full speed towards the first police car she saw.

"Please give me a map, we all need to go to 115 Bruckner Boulevard in Mott Haven!" Superwoman shouted ardently.

The cops pulled out a map and showed Superwoman the location. She took off at super speed with a roar as the police cars turned on their sirens and headed that way.

***

The sun has set. The sacrifice must begin.

Dr. Quinzel undressed herself and smeared blood all over her body. Then she removed the bandages from the children's eyes and mouths. They began to scream and cry. They called for Superwoman and the police with all their might.

"You can scream all you want, they don't know where you are, they don't have time. And I turned the music up too loud. They'll never hear you."

She untied the first boy, the one she had slapped before. The boy tried to run and kick her, he even took a bite out of her hand, so she stunned him with a blow from the mallet while the others screamed. Dr. Quinzel dragged the boy toward a five-pointed curved star that she had drawn in blood on the ground. Dr. Quinzel raised the dagger.

Suddenly, there was a clatter behind her, and before she could turn, an irresistible force pushed her into the wall. Despite the pain, she held on the dagger. Dr. Quinzel could not see the boy. She ran toward the other three, brandishing the dagger and crying the mystic language of the ancient peoples. But before she reached the children, a red and blue blur threw her to the ground with a very painful blow that made her spit out chunks of tooth… She still clung to the dagger in a mad rage. The red and blue blur surrounded the children like a tornado, and then they all disappeared. "NOOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOO!" Dr. Quinzel's howl of pain and madness could have shaken the earth.

Superwoman descended, carrying the three dazed and still bound children in front of four police cars that braked a mile from the former Whateley factory. The fourth child, the first she had rescued, sat coughing on the pavement.

"Don't worry. You're safe. It's all over now. I'm going to get that monster who's going to stay in jail forever." The boy barely responded. Superwoman gently lifted his chin with her left hand-he was almost a teenager-and kissed his cheek. The boy smiled faintly and said a shy "Thank you". The cheering officers untied the other boys and ran toward the building. Superwoman bent over the boys to make sure they were unharmed, then turned to the police.

"Don't let anyone in. I'm going to bring that evil madwoman, tied up. But first, I need to make sure there's no one else hiding, and that it's not a trap. Please wait for my signal to let you know it's safe." Superwoman disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Dr. Quinzel wept bitterly. Her sacrifice had failed. She could not attain enlightenment now. Unless she killed the Fake Flying Goddess. And unless she blew up the factory with the police inside. The Fake Flying Goddess had injured her. Her jaw was probably broken, and some ribs were fractured as well. She could barely walk. Then she heard a crash, and Superwoman descended through a hole in the ceiling amid the debris.

"You're going to jail, Dr. Quinzel. You failed. Not one person died today. Your whole plan, your whole delusion. It was for nothing."

Dr. Quinzel fell to her knees on the ground, crying. Superwoman approached her.

"You are very ill. It's possible they can cure you. Please, stand up. You've been injured, and I have no intention of causing you more pain. Handing you over to the authorities is a better option than allowing them to find you here. Now, tell me, is anyone else involved? Are there any traps set?" Superwoman said with a tone halfway between anger and pity.

Dr. Quinzel mumbled between gasps. Superwoman bowed to her. Dr. Quinzel opened her arms while crying. "Help me, there's something in my head. I can't stand it." Superwoman grabbed her arms to lift her up, and then she felt the deepest, most intense pain she had ever felt, even against Doomsday. A sharp blade sliced through her back. She felt the pain go up to her heart and it was as if her chest was flooded. Her vision blurred and she fell to the ground, vomiting blood.

"The dagger that pierces every skin in the universe." Dr. Quinzel wailed victoriously.

Kryptonite...Clara thought bitterly, not understanding where Dr. Quinzel had got it. The mad woman pulled out the dagger and plunged it deeper as Superwoman writhed in pain. Then she ran to the detonator. It was time to wait for the police and blow everything up. One Kryptonian and several cops. It was less than four children, but it was a good sacrifice. She could still reach enlightenment. She pulled out the detonator and looked at it avidly. With almost her last effort, Superwoman lifted her head and let out the strongest super-breath she could. In full form, the most powerful super-breath she was capable of would have thrown Dr. Quinzel several miles and torn her apart, but now it only lifted her a few feet and slammed her into the wall, knocking the former psychiatrist unconscious. Superwoman crawled over to the detonator and smashed it to pieces. She then grabbed Dr. Quinzel's unconscious body and flew slowly and low, leaving a trail of blood, in an attempt to reach the police.

*** 

Officers comforted the children with blankets as they waited for ambulances to arrive. The boys were shaken by what had happened, but they were unharmed. The wait to enter the factory and arrest the damned Dr. Quinzel took forever. Some of the policemen prepared their rifles. They had no idea what awaited them inside.

A dry noise startled them. A naked, bruised body, seemingly smeared with some sinister liquid, fell at their feet from a very low height.

"For God's sake, cover her up and handcuff her, she's hurt. Do not enter the factory. There are explosives. I destroyed the detonator."

Superwoman's voice sounded distant and faint, as if in pain and tears.

Superwoman? Superwoman?

No one answered.

***

The Woman of Steel didn't know if she could see anything. She didn't know how high up she was. She could not open her eyes. The pain was unbearable. Those stabs had pierced her body far more than the android's sting or any of Doomsday's blows. But she could still fly. Slowly, upward, always upward. She thought of her parents, she thought of Louis. She thought of the four children she had just saved. This had happened to her many times before. She had always recovered. She just had to get to the top, reach out into space, get the sunlight. But perhaps the wound was too deep. She had to try. Superwoman couldn't think straight. She just went up. She was floating upward. She felt very cold and knew she would lose consciousness soon. Suddenly, she felt her body float differently, she had crossed the stratosphere at last. With blurred eyes she searched for the sunlight and warmth. But she saw only a green light and felt how gentle arms embraced her... Then a sudden warmth on her back over her wounds.

December 24th, 1949

10:40 A.M.

Metropolis

The next morning, Superwoman awoke on the rooftop of the Daily Planet. She jerked awake in terror, as if waking from a nightmare. The Woman of Steel patted her back. She had some sort of painful scars, but nothing else, they seemed closed. Her Superwoman costume was torn in the back. She could move and fly normally. She was tired. What had happened last night? She remembered the pain of the stab wounds and the endless, blurry flight into space. A green light. She didn't understand anything. The Maid of Might gently levitated down the facade of the Daily Planet. The day was a little sunnier than the day before. As she landed on the sidewalk, everyone turned to her and started clapping. She walked over to a newsstand, followed by the ecstatic crowd, and looked at the headlines. "TOYMAN AND HIS ACCOMPLICE, DR. QUINZEL, CAPTURED. BLOODBATH AVOIDED BY SUPERWOMAN" or "SUPERWOMAN SAVES CHRISTMAS. END OF TOYMAN AND DR. QUINZEL. CHILDREN SAVED."

Superwoman smiled. But she had too many questions and was exhausted. She had to see Bruce and her mother. Surrounded by endless applause, the Woman of Steel soared into the firmament.

24 December 1949

03.20 p.m.

Planet Building

Roberta read the paper eagerly, "SUPERWOMAN AVOIDS BLOODY CHRISTMAS. THE TOYMAN CAPTURED BY HIS HOSTAGE," followed by the main leads "COUNTLESS LIVES AT RISK IN CENTRAL PARK AND SUBWAYS," "YOUTHS SAVED BY SUPERWOMAN FROM A DREADFUL RITUAL," "A DERANGED PSYCHIATRIST AT THE HELM OF AN OBSCURE CULT"... Her own account made its way into the narrative of the Central Park incident. She was referred to as a "promising young contributor to the Daily Planet," though her contribution was limited to a mere two hundred words. Roberta was meticulously cautious in her recounting, omitting any mention of how she unveiled the truth behind the bomb-laden balloons or how she had snatched several from unsuspecting hands. The girl aimed to avoid drawing attention, keen to not overshadow the events as she thought she had during the Klan upheaval the previous year. Her narrative painted a picture of the Central Park events as though she was merely a distant observer. Ronald Troupe helped her write it the evening before, as they listened with heavy hearts to the radio news until it was finally reported that the kidnapped children had been released by Superwoman.

It was Saturday and Christmas Eve, but Roberta had stopped by the newspaper to help Ronald Troupe, who was acting as her trade master when Clara disappeared. Miss Kent had not appeared since the day before, but it was odd, even if it was a holiday, that she hadn't stopped by. The day before, Superwoman had looked more like Clara than ever.

"Well, Roberta, you've witnessed an historic day," Ronald Troupe winked at her.

"I don't want to see any more days like this." Roberta groaned.

"In the old days, today would have been the worst cover we've had in years, with hundreds of deaths. God bless Superwoman."

In a rare display of politeness, Bob Mailer walked over to the table where Roberta and Ronald were sitting.

"I see, girl, you were in the thick of it yesterday. I guess you still have to see things as a journalist, but damn it, you were standing there and watching the whole show. We only produce daredevils on this paper. Congratulations."

Roberta blushed.

"It's bloody Chrismukkah, aren't you going home to celebrate whatever it is you're celebrating?" Mailer continued.

"Yeah, we're leaving now." Ronald confirmed.

"There shouldn't be anyone in this office tomorrow unless one of those mysterious gas comets disintegrates Washington D.C. Come on, out!" Mailer jokingly scolded them.

Roberta gathered her things and decided to go to the Planet's rooftop. Jimmy Olsen and Lucy Weiss had shown her around and told her how to gain access. The view was wonderful. She wanted to spend five minutes up there. It was cold. All the skyscrapers were lit up. Some sleet was falling. What a view. In the distance, she saw a familiar red trail moving fast. Before Roberta acknowledged it, she had it above her, and in the blink of an eye, Superwoman was floating in front of her. With a happy but tired face and a huge bag of toys on her back.

"Hello Roberta! Merry Christmas!"

Roberta overcame her nervousness, "Same to you, Mrs. El. It was wonderful what you did yesterday."

"Not at all. Without you, hundreds of people would have died. A thousand thanks to you. It's huge what you did. How do you feel? I don't think you wanted to tell anyone. At least in your newspaper you talk as if you saw it from afar… and you didn't want to testify to the police."

Roberta lowered her head, "Everybody does what they can. I was just lucky enough to be in the right place or something like that. I don't want people to think I'm looking for the spotlight or that I'm a troublemaker. Let's leave it there. I feel more comfortable that way, Mrs. El. Besides, you would have been on time anyway."

"I don't think so, honey."

There was something about the way she called her "honey" that sounded familiar again to Roberta. She sounded too much like Clara. Superwoman smiled at her and showed her the sack of toys.

"I have to help Santa a little this Christmas. I'm going to take care of the children's hospitals and orphanages, make sure they have some extra presents."

"How are the children from yesterday, the kidnapped ones?"

"They are fine. They had a hard time, but they're home now. It was a scare. Thank God they didn't see any horrible things they could have seen."

Roberta didn't answer and kept her head down shyly.

"That was great yesterday, Roberta, really thank you. You did a heroic thing. Merry Christmas."

Superwoman took off again, carrying the sack of presents. Three more were ready, but she would deliver them after dinner with her mother in Smallville. The Woman of Steel couldn't shake the memory of the green light that had blinded her before she blacked out in space, or the nearly perfect cauterized scars that barely hurt despite the severity of her wounds. Bruce had told her that she'd healed and regenerated herself with sunlight, and that in her state of exhaustion and pain, she had hallucinated someone—or something—was helping her, saving her, she who saved so many every day.

She had her doubts.

But it was Christmas. The Toyman was in the hospital and soon headed back to jail, Dr. Quinzel was locked up for life, and Mr. Sebastian was safe at home. She had flown him there herself, and he had shown her some of his creations. There were still the mysterious craters and nearly one hundred thousand missing people around the world, not to mention the alien android. That had been out of her mind for a few days, but the lingering sense of something coming was undeniable.

Whatever it was, it would be a job for Superwoman.

28 December 1949-27 January 1950

USSR

First, three reconnaissance planes reported the presence of a strange crater in the middle of the tundra, a large burned and scorched area, and something fuzzy vibrating in the center of it. The message was received with astonishment at the Air Force control center in Siberia. The planes never returned.

Neither did the squadron of twenty planes they sent out the next day. Stalin imposed a strict silence directive, prohibiting any military discussion about the mysterious disappearances and the crater, out of concern for espionage and information breaches. Despite his efforts to conceal the details from his ministers, the facts began to emerge, fueling rumors and anxiety among the Air Force personnel. This unrest eventually reached the Central Committee, causing widespread alarm. However, Khrushchev and Beria, initially considering alerting the Americans, ultimately conformed to the consensus for the sake of unanimity, and for the sake of their lives. The Central Committee contemplated using the atomic bomb on the unknown entity at the crater's heart. Additionally, there was talk of launching a ballistic missile, developed with the assistance of the Special Scientific Team and Paula von Gunther—a former Nazi and U.S. scientist now working for the Soviets under duress. The incident in Siberia sparked debates about its connection to the global series of craters and vanishings observed at the year's end. Speculation ranged from an extraterrestrial invasion forefront to American involvement, or possibly the emergence of an ancient, subterranean civilization, potentially linked to the mythical Aquaman observed in oceans worldwide, believed to be allied with figures like Superwoman, Flash, and the mysterious Batman.

The nuclear bombardment with a ballistic missile was ready. The government had been testing different types since 1947. Then they received a broadcast message. A weak frequency. It was repeated over and over. Constantly. It was picked up by the Siberian stations. It was encoded... in the most special and secret code of Soviet intelligence. Only a colonel recognized it. The message landed on Stalin's desk, translated by an NKVD detachment under Stalin's direct control, far from the eyes of Beria and Melkov's Foreign Intelligence Center. Stalin, stunned, read the message a dozen times before summoning his ministers.

***

Melkov was walking his little dog Pelet, his only friend. The park was snow-covered and the sun had already set. He was watched by his bodyguards, who in their own way were also his jailers, for they were NKVD agents working for Beria and had nothing to do with Melkov's Foreign Intelligence Center. In a way, Melkov was proud and confident that he had cultivated Beria's friendship... and of who was said to be his most direct rival, the ascendant Nikita Khrushchev. Unless Stalin wanted to get rid of them both at once, which could not be ruled out, Melkov was safe. He got discreetly into a black car that his bodyguards showed him behind some pine trees. It had dark tinted windows. To his surprise, Khrushchev and Beria were inside. He took the dog and sat down next to them while the chauffeur got out of the car.

"Nikita Sergeyevich... Laurenti Pavlovich..." Melkov greeted them, bowing to both.

"We have news..." Beria began.

"From the events in Siberia." Khrushchev apostrophized.

Melkov sighed. Something had reached the Foreign Intelligence Center, but the only thing that was allowed to leak into the highest circles of power was that a prehistoric weapon, probably extraterrestrial, had been discovered in the permafrost of Siberia. Just like the Americans did in the Aleutians last year.

"Is it Kryptonian? Another alien ship?" Melkov asked cautiously.

"We don't know. No, probably not. And it's not ancient. And it's not dead." Khrushchev said angrily. "The damn thing has contacted us. It is alive. It has only identified itself as a being. It wants to make an accord with us. It claims to be some kind of scholar. This being seems to know our language and code systems. It blames itself for the craters and the disappearances last year. It says that if we protect it for a few more months, it will leave without harming us. And that the real danger is Superwoman. So, it's a damn alien. We don't know how many there are or where they're from. We don't believe the message."

Beria held out a crumpled piece of paper with a transcript of the message Stalin had read to them.

"Here is a copy of the message."

Melkov took it tremblingly and read it. The text had a telegraphic but baroque style. His pulse was the fastest he had ever felt.

"This is crazy." Melkov reached out to reply.

"Stalin wants to wait and see what happens, and even answer the alien this communication. And what's worse. He has ordered the Special Scientific Team to accelerate the plan to develop a weapon to kill Superwoman. They claim to be far advanced," Beria explained.

"But we can't do this. We were invaded in 1946. It was a global threat. She was the one who stopped it. I don't care if she's an American lackey. So far, she has respected us. Superwoman must know full well that Luthor was our spy, and that we were working with him on various phases of the plan for that damned Doomsday," Melkov said hastily.

"We stand as the lone ministers favoring a dialogue with the U.S. government, proposing a temporary cessation of any attack towards Superwoman until this mystery is unraveled," Khrushchev responded, his tone laced with regret. "But Stalin, driven by fear, is adamant about neutralizing Superwoman first. The old man prefers not to reveal our hand until after Superwoman is dealt with. Only then does he plan to notify the USA, hoping to leverage her demise for bargaining time and possibly forging an understanding with this extraterrestrial visitor. According to him, Superwoman represents the spearhead of a looming alien invasion. This visitor, seemingly indifferent, has issued a warning against Superwoman out of courtesy, while claiming territories and conducting studies, promising to depart upon completion."

Melkov, overwhelmed, closed his eyes momentarily, murmuring, "This is utter madness."

Beria, with a heavy heart, concluded, "My dear Konstantin Nikolayevich, it seems we must protect this so-called Super-Lackey for now. And it's likely that Stalin will command you, once a technological solution is proposed, to coordinate your Foreign Intelligence Center with the Special Scientific Team to eliminate the Kryptonian. You must sabotage these efforts."