Cyberlad
Qia
Half Pint
Festive
mickilennial
AndyC
Sep
Roman
Rockette
Lord WraithThen...
It was a wet day.
The dress code was clearly not agreed upon, as those in attendance wore a blend of black, and colourful garments that showed as much. It wasn't often that one of their kind had passed, and there was no clear way to best represent their fallen comrade.
Somehow despite this smattering of the brightest of outfits, one stood out beyond all. The one draped in the flag, who had inspired him. It was only fitting.
Captain America and Fred Davis Jnr held tight salutes through the twenty-one gun salute they'd demanded for the man in the pine box.
The one who was refused the opportunity to leave his country to fight for it, because another man in a flag was already over there.
Jeff Mace. The Patriot who was denied the right to fight for his country in a war on foreign shores, for the good of morale he could do on the homefront.
Johnny Thunder looked particularly peculiar, his regular green suit replaced with a black one, albeit with a very familiar belt which didn't match with what he wore for this occasion.
Most of the core J.S.A had come in garb. Jay Garrick had his iconic helmet. Alan Scott in full Green Lantern regalia, as did Fate in his own. Heck, Wildcat looked ready to fight back Death and win Mace another day.
Rex was only really joined by Ted Knight in his choice to hold to traditional dress for the occasion. Black suit, tie and shoes.
The hour didn't seem appropriate for anything else.
He didn't feel it was right to draw any additional attention to himself, he'd fought alongside the man quite often. Mace and his 'Liberty Legion' sub-group of the J.S.A fought predominantly out of New York, which was one of the two cities he spent the most time in. But he wasn't amongst their number. Not really. And with the exception of 'Bucky', his closest associate, they'd all come in full dress - but it seemed different in their case. Appropriate. Close comrades standing to in support.
Whilst he generally linked the 'Liberty Legion' with the core J.S.A. proper, and his vouching and connection was a major part of their becoming a part of the larger Society. There was still unspoken space between them.
And now certainly didn't seem to be the time to approach Miss America. Not after that night where Mad-- well, its best not discuss such things in polite company.
He'd wait until they were together as a group and offer his condolences. If he was feeling particularly sheepish, maybe he'd take Jay or Terry Terrific with him... it was harder to find fault with either of them, or point fingers in front of them. People wanted to please them.
Almost as much as the one in the flag, he supposed.
Rex looked down at the box covered in the flag. The metal supports polished to such a shine. Even on this miserable day.
The big C. Cancer. Who would've thought this would be the way the next of them would fall? With their lifestyles?
Then Rex considered his own mishaps, side effects and issues with Miraclo down the years.
The war was in the mirror now, but darkness hadn't left this world.
Hell, not even all of the Nazis had. They still fought Baron Blitzkrieg less than six months ago. And even fallen adversaries had a way of finding their ways back.
Cancer seemed pretty final though didn't it?
Not like hate, evil and fascism. That seemed to find a way to hibernate, twist and re-emerge in new forms, new versions, more suited to addressing more current environs and talking points.
Reich mk.II - Now available in Diet! Ugh.
The Thin Man turned and gave him a subtle nod.
Yes, he'd definitely have to pay his respects more directly to the 'Liberty Legion' as a group after the ceremony. He was curious what the Whizzer had been doing with himself... and that's before you even get to some of the stranger members of the Legion.
He looked up and Jay Garrick was giving him a look of pity.
It dawned on Rex that to the rest of the J.S.A HE was the one who had lost someone closer.
He felt pangs of guilt as he realised he really didn't know as much about Jeff Mace as he could have. If he'd taken the time. Inspired by Captain America to play a role. Used in America's own marketing of itself and shilling war bonds. The need and crave for more - which Rex had always assumed was just the craving for adventure... for those moments... - the need to help his country.
Patriot by name, Patriot by nature. What more had there been to really know?
Until the sands of the hourglass run out, and you realise there's no more time to find out.
H O U R M A N
H O U R M A N
H O U R M A N
Now...
The sun was out, but the sentiment somber.
A contradiction which seemed fitting for the circumstances.
A funeral for a 'friend' they didn't know in the box. Going through the motions to pretend they didn't know, that they hadn't discovered that their friend was anything but who she claimed.
Barbara Whitmore's, along with Mike and Pat Dugan's tears were real.
No need to fake anything when you don't know where on earth your daughter or sister is, or what condition she's in.
New and old J.S.A were in attendance. Mostly recognisable by costume. But there were some faces who weren't known to the younger current group. A man with a goatee in a black leather jacket, a gaunt elderly man with glasses, another lean gent done well up to the nines in his black suit, complete with a cane, dark glasses and top hat - which he politely removed for the ceremony itself.
The four current members had carried the casket.
Despite being a J.S.A affair, they'd tried to keep it somewhat small. Wake at Courtney's family's house. A standard press release to avoid suspicion. The regular funeral service for the same reason, which Pat had organised, with his own familiarity to the traditions and etiquette of the lifestyle. Sandy had offered to help, having some familiarity with his time by the original Sandman's side. But Pat had decided to take it upon himself, things had been hard enough for the family.
The ceremony was uncomfortable for Rick, in its somber nature. He wondered what the thing in the box presently looked like. Not knowing their biology... would it turn to acid and melt through the bottom like something from a horror movie? Beth had assured him it wouldn't, but how much could they really glean about its physiology?
'It'. It took their friend's form and he was left with calling it an 'it'. They didn't know what the Hell it was, other than it seemed pretty clearly alien in nature. Where were they from? What were they called? What did they want, and what was their interest in the Stargirl, and by extension the Justice Society of America?
The staff was left lying upon on the casket, removed only when the box was lowered into the cold ground. A few cold words followed.
And then it was over. No fanfare. No cheap thrills. None of the joy with which Courtney had led her life.
He swore if he had a funeral it wouldn't take this form.
The small core group left to attend the wake at the Whitmore-Dugans.
There was food and drink put aside, but nobody had touched anything.
It was somehow more strange and somber an occasion because she HADN'T passed than if she actually had.
What HAD actually happened? Was she OK, or still dead, just her body left somewhere else entirely?
Unspoken uncomfortable questions that nobody wanted to address yet, but would need to be.
The cacophonous silence was broken with a knock at the front door.
