Pantheon Comics #5:

"Election Day on J Street"

Digest by Aquaman and Joe Grendel

Chapter One
by Joe Grendel

Daybreak on J Street, NW, Washington, DC

If J Street were tied to mundane reality as every other place in creation were (with the
possible exception of a certain Australian by-way), this would be the morning of Nov 1.
All Saint's Day, the day after Halloween.

The night before was a long one, for all involved. But the repairs had begun and life had
gotten back to its rough approximation of "normal."

At Miracle's Modern Therapy Center, the backsliding Fanboy sat on the couch,
alternately discussing his childhood, then blubbering about all the lovely comic books
that rotten Joe
Grendel had set on fire the night before.

At Grendel's Pond Bar and Grill, the staff was putting the last touches on the refurbished
restaurant. OzBat was stocking the fish tank as Grendel and the Mighty Hank! returned
from Abdul Aziz's Pan-Dimensional Emporium across the street. They lowered the
Wurlitzer juke box into the spot where its predecessors had lived out their short happy
existences.

Further down the street, Johannes van Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet was finishing up

his signs. Not every resident of J Street was a steroid-drenched, magically empowered,
conflict-driven thug. Johannes was an explorer, ubertourist and philosopher. The events
of the night before had, along with recollections of similar events, made him think that J
Street needed some changes. A rational hand at the tiller.

"So," he said, curling his freshly waxed handlebar mustache, "I believe I should be
elected mayor of this fine street. I will bring maturity, order and economic prosperity to
the street, in accordance with the philosophy set forth in my 12-volume treatise: The
Politics of the 'Ordinary Man.'"

His visitor scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Order, eh? I can agree with that. This street has seen too many battles with dictators and
hooligans. You have my support." Shadowcat reached forward and shook Johannes v M.'s
hand. "We will make J Street safe for decent people."
 Chapter 2
by OzBat

Later, OzBat finished polishing some yard-glasses, and looked up to witness a strange
gentleman pasting a notice to the poster board outside. He bamfed out quickly, and
perused the freshly pasted sheet, bearing the title: J Street Elections: "Notice of
Registration of a Political Party - The Pan-dimensionally Peaceful-Coexistance and Anti-
Mayhem Democratic Party. Registered 1 November by Johannes van
Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet, Candidate. Our Motto: A better life for all"

Noting Shadowcat's signature at the bottom of the page, along with several other
residents, OzBat whipped out a crayon and whimsically scrawled "By Force If
Necessary!!!" to Shadowcats name. Then paused. And actually thought for a while.
Watching that brow earnestly trying to furrow under intense pressure caused several
Tibetan Monks to break their vow of silence, falling about the other side of the street.
OzBat was used to this kind of reaction, and ignored it, as he followed the thought along
for a bit. And then smiled; a broad, Impish grin in the full, time-honored Impish tradition,
with all the particularly quirkish connotations that follow.

And then bamfed out of sight.

***

Later that day, posters began appearing on billboards, light posts, store front windows.
Upon close inspection, they were for a plethora of political parties. Such as:

The Sun-Dried Green Tomato Party.

The Party for the Promotion of Extended Trading Hours. (In J Street?)

The Anti-Election Electorial Party.

The B.Y.O Party Party.

The Establishment of a No-Grazing Zone on the Median Strip on J-street Party.

And so on.

OzBat bamfed back into the bar, ready to begin his shift upon the re-opening of Grendels,
with a smug air of self-satisfaction.

"This should be fun!"

***
* The Canberra Civic Bus Interchange, dimensional portal to just about anywhere except
DC-Earth due to the Invasion wiping out Canberra, Sydney, and Melbourne, CAN be
affected by Union strikes affecting Bus Services. Believe it or not!)

Chapter 3
by Hatman

A little bit later on J street

The wind whistled past Hatman's ears, the line pulling taut in his hands as he swung
around the corner onto J street. Grinning to himself in exhiliration, he pulled another Hat-
arang out of his cape and tossed it towards a certain Pan-Dimensional Emporium; the
tiny, fedora-shaped weapon wound its way around a flagpole, wrapping it in a second
length of nylon
rope. The Capped Crusader grabbed hold of it and arced his body downwards, sighing in
contentment as he felt his cape billow behind him

Damn, but it had been a while since he'd been here.

Things had been rough at home, lately his old nemesis, Captain Bunny-Stomper, had
resurfaced and gone on a rampage through the exotic pet shops of downtown Toronto at
exactly the same time when Hat's faithful sidekick, Camera-Dude, had been facing
that troubling bout of impotency

Reassuring your sidekick's masculinity in the middle of a pitched battle with a nine-foot
tall
homicidal lunatic was not an easy thing to manage. But somehow, he'd done it.
BunnyStomper was back in the hands of the proper authorities, and those funny yelping
noises had started coming from the back of Otto's van again. So apparently everyone was
happy.

Now if only he could figure out where that giant Jell-o monster had come from last night
the one that had morphed into the form of Florence Henderson and tried to kill him with
Wesson Oil

Hatman grimaced and shook his head. No, no point worrying about that. It was probably
just one of those seasonal super-hero cross-over things that you never properly figured
out unless you bought the whole damned storyline. And he just couldn't be bothered. He
had a feeling his had only been a cameo role, anyway

Besides, now was not the time for worries. Now was the time to go where everyone knew
his name where men and women like him went to unwind and to catch up with some old
friends
Letting go of the Hat-line, Hatman executed a quick double-somersault in mid-air,
bounced off the hood of a taxi cab, and landed on the sidewalk in front of Grendel's Pond
Bar and Grill.

The Mighty Hank! looked down at the crumpled mess that lay at his feet.

"Hat?" he asked. "Is that you? You OK?"

"Ummmph!" groaned the crumpled mess. "Uh, yeah Hank, it's me." Rubbing his sore
rear-end, Hatman pulled himself to his feet. "Sorry. Wasn't expecting that taxi cab to be
there. Threw off my entrance a little."

"Verily, old friend. Methinks I did hear thy tailbone crack mightily! Thou really should
consider just walking into the bar, like everybody else."

"Yeah, right, I" Hatman broke off as he got his first good look at his friend. "What's with
the tux?"

"Ah, yes. Friend Hat has long been out of the loop," Hank said, "Or thou would knowest
that tonight be the fabu grand re-opening of yon glorious mead-hall! Grendel wanted the
bar staff to go formal. 'Tis tres chic, non?"

"Grand re-opening? Wha hoppen? Did the board of health shut Grendel down again?"

Hank shook his head.

"Nuh-uh. Worse. The place was destroyed."

Hat blinked.

"DESTROYED? What? How?"

"Um, actually, I dunno," Hank said. "I was entertaining in Hades at the time."

"'Entertaining in Huh?"

"Well, see, twas this giant Jell-o creature, right? And it kinda killed me "

"Jell-o creature? KILLED YOU? But how where " Hatman blinked again. "Oh, wait.
Lemme guess: Seasonal super-hero cross-over thingie?"

Hank tapped his nose and pointed at Hat.

"Ah," Hat said. "Figures."

"Actually, friend Hat, I was most surprised that thou didst not play a larger role. Verily,
thy name was dropped but twice throughout the entire ordeal."

"Well, I did get this cameo," Hat said defensively. "Florence Henderson with vegetable
oil, and all. And I think it was meant to be a bigger part, but no one thought to bring me
back in, and "

"Come to thinkest of it," Hank pondered, stroking his chin, "thou really hasn't been
involved in much around here, lately. By the Gods, I cannot remember the last time the
Pantheon has hadst the opportunity to form a Hatman Rescue Squad!"

"Yeah, well," Hat murmured. "I been busy thought it was time for someone else to take
center stage "

Hank looked pityingly at his friend, and laid a meaty hand on his shoulder.

"Face it, old friend: thou art out of the loop."

"Am not, am not! I'm just as hip to what's going on here as I was two months ago! Just
ask gail2 and the Reverse-Hat! They'll tell you!"

Hank looked blankly at his friend, and shook his head softly.

"No gail2?" Hat asked.

"Nope," Hank replied.

"No Reverse-Hat?"

"Nuh-uh."

Hatman swallowed hopefully.

"Is Chris Mallory still around?"

Hank closed his eyes.

Hatman sighed heavily.

"Man," he said, "am I out of the loop."

"Aye," Hank agreed. "But 'tis not too late, old friend! Verily, there doth still be time to get
you involved again!"

"Really?" Hat said, staring glumly at his reflection in the window. "How?"
"Hmmm," said The Mighty Hank!, stroking his chin. "Let's see I think we're throwing a
bachelor party for Super- oh, no, wait that was last month "

"Hey." Hat said absently, still looking at the window. "What's all this?"

"I think there's an Elseworlds night coming up. Or did that already happen? I dunno, with
all these retcons, 'tis hard to remember."

"'Anti-Mayhem Democratic Party?' 'A better life for all '"

"Hmm," Hank said thoughtfully. "Have you given any thought to a corny, self-indulgent
re-telling of your origin?"

"Johannes Von um mumblemumblemumble and and SHADOWCAT?"

"Oh, wait, I forgot. Borelli already did your origin, didn't he?"

"BOYD'S IN A POLITICAL PARTY?"

" made kind of a mess of it too, I think. I mean, a HAT crashes through the window?
C'mo IRK!" Hank broke off suddenly as Hatman grabbed him by the lapels and spun him
around.

"Have you seen this?" Hatman demanded. "Boyd's gone and joined a political party! In
an attempt to make J Street NORMAL, for Chihuahuas sake!"

Hank blinked.

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"BUT THAT'S JUST PLAIN WRONG!" Hatman shouted. "J Street can't be NORMAL!
THAT'S THE WHOLE BLEEDIN' POINT!"

"Yes, quite," Hank said. "Um, wouldst thou mind releasing me, friend Hat? Thou art
creasing the velvet "

"Damnit, Hank! You want me to get involved? Huh? Well, I'm gonna get myself
involved! I'm not gonna let that no good stinkin' killjoy ShadowCat ruin OUR J Street!
No sir!"

"Good, good. Now, really, Hat. Please, it's a rental, you know "

"And you know how I'm gonna do it, Hanky? You know how I'm gonna stop 'em?"

"Hat, I believe thou art tearing the lining "

"I'M GONNA RUN AGIN HIM! THAT'S HOW! I'M GONNA BE MAYOR OF J
STREET, INSTEAD A THIS 'JOHANNES VANDERDOODY' GUY!"

"Excellent, Hat. Dost sound like a plan. Now, if you could only relax thy grip a little "

"Yeah! Yeah! That's the ticket! I'll run fer mayor! That'll show 'em I'm involved! And and
And you can be my running mate!"

"Yes, Hat. Very good. First the right hand, and then the " Hank broke off and stared at his
friend. "What?" he asked.

"Yeah, Hank. I can see it now. You and me running for the good of all J Street. Men of the
People! Champions of the Downtrodden. Proud, card-carrying members of creme de la
creme of all political organizations " Hat frowned and consulted the other posters on
the window again."THE SUN-DRIED TOMATO PARTY!"

Chapter Four: The Sinister Return of the Chapter Headings!

by Joe Grendel

The 1600 block of J Street, Northwest.

There was a cough and the two looked up to see Abdul Aziz walking down the steps from
the Pan-Dimensional Emporium.

"Ah, my good friend Hat. It has been so long since I have seen your face. Would you like
some mint tea?"

Hank and Hat both demurred: Abdul Aziz served his mint tea Egyptian-style: scalding
hot, in juice glasses. The Mighty Hank's fingers still had blisters from the last time he'd
hung out there.

"No? Ah, well. In any case, I could not help but hear that you intend to run against
Johannes. I hope you are prepared for the expenses involved. Tell me," Abdul Aziz
casually flipped through an enormous wad of money, "What is your stand on
interdimensional trade?"

[Will Hatman sell out his beliefs, such as they are, to a special interest group? Are there
any tuxes left for rent? And how come Hatman forgot to mention being attacked by
Leatherface during our Halloween Special? Check back here next time, true believer, for
the sense-shattering answers!]

Chapter Five: Hat Gets a Political Advisor

by Jason Borelli
Before Hat could answer, a green gag was placed on him.

"HHHMMPHHH! HMMPPPHH!!"

"What happened?" asked Abdul.

"Mr. Cmelak will get to you at a later date. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Jason
Borelli. I am Hatman's campaign advisor."

"HHMMPHH?"

"Jason," asked Hank. "Why doesth thou want to manage friend Stephen's campaign?"

"Hank, buddy, someone has to explain American politics to the Hat. Besides, I'm betting
this pony will ride us to the mayor's office!"

Pause.

"You're doing this to be important, aren't you?"

"OK, Hank, you got me. But I swear, I wouldn't do anything with my ring that would
help or hinder Stephen in a massive way."

"Like gag his mouth until he's blue in the face?"

"Oh geez!"

The gag vanished. Stephen collapsed.

"Terrific. Hank, you know CPR?"

"No need. He's coming to."

"At least I didn't do another 'Hat meets Jonah' post."

"True."

Chapter Six: Unemployment

by Aquaman

1602 J Street
Grendel's Pond Bar and Grill

"Can I have a job?"

"No."

"Can I have a job?"

"No."

"Can I have a job?"

"No."

"Can I have a job?"

"NO!"

"Can I have a job?"

"NO! Lissen, Aq "

"Can I have a job?"

"Aquaman, for the last time, you can not have a job! I don't have any work for you, and
even if I did, I wouldn't hire you, because you're incomp-incomp you're stupid."

"But, Joe Y-You saved my life for a reason, didn't you?"

"I'm beginning to wonder "

"I owe you my life! What in the world can pay something like that back? Can I have a
job?"

"N-O. NO. I'm warning you, buddy."

OzBat finished cleaning the bathroom.

"Hey, Joe, ever since you saved his life, I think Aq's had a little non-sexual crush on you.
heh-heh." The imp loved to make trouble.

"Shut up, you! This is between the boss and me!" shouted Aquaman. "Joe, I need some
way to pay for college, and no one'll hire me! That postman job opened up, but they
wouldn't even consider me because of my smell. I applied for the J Street Tribune-
Democrat-Daily-Times-Herald, but they told me I was too honest for journalism (hee-
hee). Mario and Luigi, the interdimensional plumbers, didn't even hire me. They said I
showed TOO MUCH butt crack! Please, Joe, Please!"

"Aq, did you zip up your fly before you went on these job interviews?"
"Holy $#!%, NO! Why? Holy $#!%" zzzippp "You think that affected my chances?"

"In all honesty, no, I don't think it had anything to do with it."

"So, can I have a job?"

"Well NO! Now, get out of here before I call the cops!"

"All, all right," sobbed Aquaman. He well-remembered ShadowCat's ferocity.

He stumbled out into the street, noticing all the hubub the coming elections were causing.

He saw Johann Von Whatever's picture on a poster.

"What a loser. I'd never vote for him!"

Then, he read the quote underneath the picture. It read:

"If I'm elected, I'll make sure no fishboy goes without a job!"

"Wow," thought Aq, "What a promise! He's got my vote!"

Aq turned to his fountain and jumped in.

Behind him, the poster smiled.

Chapter Seven: Greasy Palms

by Hatman

Out front of the bar, Abdul Aziz fanned himself with his impressive wad of bills, and
waited patiently for Hatman to regain consciousness. The Mighty Hank! (Godling
Bouncer Amoungst Men and Political Neophyte) and Jason Borelli (Emerald Crusader
and
Campaign Manager To The Stars) bent over to help their chappeaued buddy up off the
sidewalk.

"Unnh," Hatman groaned woozily. "Wha hoppenin? Erythin' wen' black there, fer a
secon'. Well, sorta green first, but then black. Maybe I hit that cab a little harder than I
thought."

Jason reddened slightly at this, and looked away sheepishly. Hank snorted in disgust.

"Uh, so where were we?" Hat asked woozily.

"Here," Aziz said pointedly, waving the wad of cash under Hatman's nose. "I believe I
was just about to hear your stance on trans-dimensional trade."

.Hatman blinked.

"'Trans-dimensional trade?' Ummm, never really thought about it, to be honest with you."
Hatman wrinkled his nose suddenly, and grimaced at the cash being held by his chin.
"Geez, Abdul, did anyone ever tell you that your money smells like three day old
sweatsocks?"

Abdul grimaced. Great. Now Hatman knew where he kept his stash, not to mention how
often he changed his socks.

"Never thought about it, hmm? As a candidate for the people, don't you think you ought
to start thinking about it?"

"He's got a point there, Hat," Jason volunteered. "If you're going to beat Johann Von
Jingleheimerschmitz, you're going to need a pretty solid campaign platform."

"Not to mention money," Abdul added, rustling his bills meaningfully. "And lots of it."

Hat grimaced.

"Campaign Platforms? Money? But I'm a super-hero! What do I care about things like
trans-dimensional trade? I just want to make sure that jerk Shadowcat and his figurehead
puppet-boy don't get into office, and try making J Street normal!"

"Aye, friend Hat. But politics be more than just a race to beat out the other guy at least in
theory, at any rate. Thou must put much thought into what thee would achieve were thee
to be elected to office; how you are more qualified to lead these people than Johann of the
Long-Winded Surname"

"In other words," Jason said, "you have to care about things like 'Trans-dimensional
trade.'"

Hatman's face fell at this, as if it had never occurred to him.

"Oh. Gee. You mean I'm actually gonna have to start paying attention?"

"Yes," Abdul said, fanning Hatman's grimace away with his stack of green bills. "Believe
me, though, my friend; pay attention to the right issues, and I just might make it worth
your while " Aziz grinned toothily and elbowed Hat in the ribs.

"Oh, I don't know, Abdul. Maybe I'm not cut out for this. I've got the attention span of a
gnat. I've never been much good at paying attention to any"
Hat broke off suddenly as he looked down at Abdul's wad of cash, as if for the first time.

"' make it worth my while '" he repeated softly.

Abdul nodded vigorously, rustling the bills as attractively as he could manage.

"Plenty worth your while," he said, "if you catch my dri"

"HEY! WHAT KINDA FUNNY BUSINESS YOU TRYIN' TO PULL HERE, HABIB?"
Hat shouted, shoving the money away from him. "YOU TRYIN' TA BRIBE ME, OR
SOMETHIN'?"

"Adamantly, yes. For about 10 minutes now. You and your friends are apparently none
too
bright."

Hank, who had been lost in thought for quite some time now, took this opportunity to turn
to Borelli and ask: "Friend Jason, this campaign platform you mention: Do we have to
build it ourselves, or may we hire a licensed contractor?"

"AND JUST WHADDAYA THINK WE ARE, HUH? A COUPLE FAT-CAT

POLITICIANS, OUT FOR THE EASY BUCK? WITH NO ETHICS, MORALS OR
SCRUPLES? THE KINDA GUYS YOU CAN KEEP IN YOUR BACK POCKET JUST
BY GREASING OUR PALMS WITH A FEW SIMOANS?"

"Um, I think that's 'simoleans', Hat," Jason offered.

"Blatant Tick rip-off," Abdul cautioned.

"Yes," Hat agreed, "but it fit so well anyhoo I DON'T THINK SO, MR. AZIZ! YOU
CAN KEEP YOUR FILTHY MONEY!! HANK AND I ARE RUNNING AN
HONEST CAMPAIGN, HERE! AND WE'RE OUT TO SEE THAT CORRUPT
SLIMEBAGS LIKE YOU GET EXACTLY WHAT YOU DESERVE! RRRUFFF!
WRRRUFF! GRRRR!" Cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed, Hat turned to his running-mate
and campaign manager for support. "RIGHT GUYS? HUH? RIGHT?"

"Methinks I have a half-cousin in Jersey who's a carpenter," Hank said thoughtfully. "We
could always hire him."

Both Hat and Abdul blinked at him in confusion.

"Um, what Hat and Hank mean to say, Mr. Aziz," Jason said, stepping forward, "Is that
they are both keenly aware of the plight of the inter-dimensional merchant on J Street,
and pledge to do everything in their power to ease these trying economic times for you
all." Jason held out his hand, palm open. "Provided, of course, that Hat and Hank do
gather the
necessary resources to get themselves elected "

Aziz grinned slightly, glad that at least one of them was finally speaking his language.

"Of course," he said, peeling off a small collection of bills and setting it in Jason's
open hand.

"HEY!" Hatman shouted, slapping Jason's hand away from Abdul. "Whaddaya think
you're doin'?"

"OW!" Jason cried, snatching back his hand. "I wasn't gonna take it ALL!"

"You're not gonna take it NONE! Not while you're on our campaign! Hank and I won't
stoop to kissing Special Interest Group heinie! We'll raise funds the honest way! The
decent way! The way the Founding Fathers intended for campaign money to be raised!"

Jason stared at him.

"We're gonna knock over a liquor store?"

"Heck, no!" Hat smiled as he turned towards the bar. "We're gonna borrow from friends!"
Turning his back on Abdul, Hat opened the door to the bar, a huge smile plastered across
his face. "gail! Blondie! Long time no see! Hey, have I ever told you how stunning you
look in that purple scrunchie?"

Jason sighed as Hat disappeared into the bar, already regretting his decision to sign on as
Hat's campaign manager. Sure, it made him sound important, but it looked to be a rough
ride ahead.

Hank followed his friends into the bar, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder as they entered.

"Um, Jason," he said. "We really should give some thought to this Campaign Platform for
The Mighty Hank! is somewhat of a hefty godling, and 'twould be embarrassing to fall
through a shoddily constructed stage in front of a large crowd."

Abdul stared after them in disbelief, still holding his stack of bills. Why the three of them
thought they stood a chance in politics particularily in Washington when they didn't know
how to accept a decent bribe, was beyond him.

"Pardon me," came a voice from behind him suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. "But I
hear you're rather concerned about trans-dimensional trade?"

Abdul turned around. There, standing behind him, was a man with a finely waxed
handlebar mustache.
"Please," the man said, "let me hear every last one of your concerns. You might be
surprised to learn we see eye to eye on a large number of issues."

Chapter Eight: The Cash is Always Greener.

by kevrhon

Aquaman grinned from within the confines of the newsstand on the corner of J Street
nearest Grendels Bar and Grill. Seems the paper could offer him employment. And he
was grateful for the opportunity.

"Heres your copy of the J Street Tribune-Democrat-Daily-Times-Herald, Mr. Fate, sir."

"Thats Doctor Fate." kevrhon proclaimed icily. And he had a right to be a bit pompous
about it. He did actually have a doctoral degree. He hadnt earned it in the conventional
sense, he had saved a small Midwestern University from the evil machinations of Mr.
Pissy Pants last year and it had been conferred on him honorarily. But it had been earned
nonetheless, and he had the stains in one of his capes to prove it.

He turned to head for Grendels, opening his paper as he went. Below the fold, there was a
picture of a man with a neatly waxed handle-bar mustache, with a headline reading

MEET THE CANDIDATE

The cut line under the photo identified the man as Johannes van
Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet of J Street. He vaguely remembered seeing him standing
in his doorway waving his fist at the Pantheon every time they passed. He felt some
regret. But sometimes saving time, space and reality were more important than a few
broken dishes. Yet, he felt some responsibility. And the candidate was running on a
platform of bringing order to the chaos of J street. As Dr. Fate, kevrhon served the Lords
of Order. His opponent, while a comrade in arms and a sometimes friend, was the very
personification of chaos. And where had Hatman been during the last few crises anyway?
As if all of that werent enough, Shadowcat was backing Johannes. kevrhon had recently
found an ally and mentor in Shadowcat. It was all such a perfect fit.

kevrhon folded the paper neatly and tucked it under his arm. It was decided then. He
would seek out this Johannes van Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet and offer his support.
As he walked toward Grendels, he came up behind the man he sought as he extended his
hand to the shopkeeper from across the street.

"Pardon me, but I hear you're rather concerned about trans-dimensional trade?"

"Please," the man said, "let me hear every last one of your concerns. You might be
surprised to learn we see eye to eye on a large number of issues."
 Chapter Nine: Is that a wallaby?
by Joe Grendel

Outside Grendel's Pond Bar and Grill.

Johannes van Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet twirled his mustache happily. Things

were going better than he'd dare hope.

He and Shadowcat had just traveled the Northwest part of J Street, dropping flyers off at
the doorsteps of all the residences and offices. Sure, he'd gotten a chilly reception at the
House of Mystery, and no one had answered the door at kevrhon's tower, but Marital
Bliss had happily listened to his stump speech at the Miracle Therapy Center.

"You see," he waved his hands happily, as though lecturing a philosophy grad student, "I
have no objection to interdimensional trade per se, only when the procurement of such
makes the business district unsafe for merchants."

Abdul Aziz nodded happily.

"Yes, yes!"

kevrhon came up behind Johannes, clapping his hand on his shoulder.

"I'd like to offer my support in any way possible, sir."

Inside the bar, Joe Grendel could see what was going on out on the street through the
few spaces left between the posters OzBat had put up. He wasn't sure who had just
joined Johannes, but it was one person too many. This all had to stop.

"Borelli," he hissed, as he reached for a strongbox under the bar, "Get over here."

"What is it?" The Green Lantern floated over. "We're engaged in high-level, er, platform
talks." Borelli sighed. "So I guess I really do have time to talk to you."

Grendel pulled out a wad of photographs.

"I have something here that may put a serious dent in Shadowcat and Johannes' plans.
Look here."

Borelli's eyes bugged out.

"That's OzBat! How disgusting! And is that a wallaby?"

Grendel jerked the photo back angrily.

"Wrong one, sorry. I'm saving that for the next time he wants a raise. Here."

Borelli was prepared for the photo this time.

"Johannes. With a goat." He looked up at the bartender suspiciously. "Where did you
get this?"

"Hey, who do you think most of my contacts in Hell are? Campaign advisors, of course.
Why, Lee Atwater had a great barbecue just the other night." He reached for the
photograph. "If you don't want it, of course, if you're sure you can win taking the high
road "

The Scarlet Rob stalked in through the front door.

"Hey, who is that mustached guy kevrhon is getting so chummy with?"

Borelli, Hank and Hatman sputtered with frustration.

Borelli jerked the photograph away from Grendel.

"I'll hold onto this." He zipped back to the table.

Grendel locked the strongbox and put it away under the bar.

"Sure, sure. Let's just say you owe me one "

Chapter Ten: Offers

by Jason Borelli

Hatman Campaign HQ

The TV is turned on. A picture of Stephen's opponent appears.

"Johannes van Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet wants to bring order to J Street. But

he doesn't want to say what kind of order."

The scene shifts to Germany, circa 1939. Soldiers are goose-stepping. Hitler is giving
one of his speeches. Then, the scene stops. Hitler is isolated. His face morphs into that of
Johannes.

"Hatman for mayor. Why chance it? PaidforbycomitteetoelectHatman."

The TV is turned off.

"I dunno, Jason. Isn't that overkill?"

"Yeah, Steve. But there's something about this guy that screams he's gonna nail you first.
So, let's beat him to the punch."

"Dammit, Jay, we're supposed to be running on a platform of wholesomeness!"

"Well, I suppose you don't want to see this picture Grendel got me."

"What picture?"

"Take a looksee "

"MY...MY GOD! I didn't know OzBat was into wallabies!"

"Huh? Oh, wrong photo!"

"OH MAN! That's Johannes! With a goat!"

"I know. Steve, I'm as much into decency as you. But if this guy wins, I feel we will be
screwed. I could burn the photo. It would never exist. Your call, man."

Stephen thought of this.

Meanwhile, at Johanne's HQ

"So, you're telling me that you can help me win the election?"

"Yeah. Then we can take down the Pantheon one at a time."

"Well then, welcome aboard, Mr ?"

"Call me Darkhalf."

Chapter Eleven: Say Cheese

by The Mighty Hank

Johannes blinked a few times.

"Come again?"

"Ahem, call me Darkhalf," said Mr. Darkhalf.

"Wait a second are you one of those costumed types, Mr. Darkhalf?" Johannes
inquired, a dark scowl moving across his face.
Darkhalf popped his eyes open wide, opening his infinitely black trench-coat with a
flourish and placing his hands on his chest in a "Who, ME?" sort of stance.

"I, my dear Mr. Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet, am NO costumed freak," Mr. Darkhalf

said in a "Who, ME?" sort of way.

Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet eyed Darkhalf carefully.

"Have you EVER been a costumed type?" he asked suspiciously.

Darkhalf rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I was a Ray Bradbury character for one Halloween, and a Stephen King one later,
now, can we get down to business?"

"Well OK. But only if you aren't one of those costumed types. Can't stand 'em. Would
you let YOUR daughter marry one?"

With a sigh, Darkhalf put his head in his left palm and shook it gently to-and-fro.

"No, no, of course not, now, can we get down to business?"

***

"Verily, I doth not understand the need for this," The Mighty Hank said, chaffing under
his
three piece suit. Hatman adjusted his fedora, and straightened out his tie.

"Well, neither do I, but Jason says it's important," The Capped Crusader exclaimed.

Hat and Hank sat in the local Sears Photo Gallery, adjusting their ties. Hank held a tiny
pigmy- marmoset on his lap, while Hat was shaking hands with Cybernetically-Enhanced
Sausage. Behind them, a clear mountain back-drop.

"Look, fellas, we have to have some GREAT campaign photos," Jason said.

Hank made a face after the monkey bit his thumb.

"But, why doth our photos be so cheap?" he asked.

"Uhhh overspent on the Hitler ads. Now, we ready?"

"No, we're not Jason. I want to know why I'm shaking hands with a robowiener, (no
offense Mr. Wiener), and why Hank is holding a chimp!" Hat exclaimed.

Jason looked at Hat in an unusually condescending way.

"Hank is NOT holding a chimp, he's holding a pigmy marmoset!" Jason, weary from the
toil of a few hours of campaign work, rubbed his eyes wearily and shook his head.

"Look, Hat, we have to capture as much of the J street voting populace as possible. And,
believe it or not, according to our research, the 400 block of J street is primarily inhabited
by Cyberneticaly Enhanced Sausage and Pygmy Marmosets! Do you UNDERSTAND
the importance of capturing the 400 block vote?" Jason exclaimed, his neck red and
bulging with viens.

Hank whapped the monkey in the forehead as the photographer blankly began snapping
photos.

"Verily, I shall crush this chimp's skull if it doth bite me again!" The Mighty Hank
exclaimed.

"It's a PYGMY MARMOSET YOU DOLT!" Jason exclaimed, leaping at The Mighty
Hank!

Hat shook his head in disbelief. It was going to be a LONG CAMPAIGN.

Chapter Twelve: Remembrances and Regrets

by Jason Borelli

Johanne Von Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet's HQ.

"Who are you again?"

"I am Darkhalf. Or at least until I get a better name."

"Where did you come from?"

***

Sears.

"I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Doing what, Jason?"

"I'm being overbearing, Hank. I'm railing on you guys. I realize this."

"Well, I wasn't going to mention it."

"It's just, I've been through so much the past several weeks."
"Oh. What happened?"

***

"So, fat boy Borelli decides he doesn't want to be a pain in the rump to anybody ever
again. So he decides to suppress his urges."

"But he accidentally purged them, creating you?"

"Bingo, Johnny. I was Jason Borelli's dark half, the one that would hurt everybody that
hurt Jason."

***

"In the process, that thing took part of me away on a molecular level. Almost like I was
spilt in half. The only real difference being that he could use his energy without fear of
dying. I couldn't."

"So, you had to use the ring for self-preservation?"

"Yeah, Hank. But thanks to Timmy, I don't gotta worry about dying for a long time!"

***

"That jerk Timmy reintegrated us with his power. But I managed to escape. Transferred
my consciousness to Jason's ring, and become all the energy in it."

"Quite a story."

"Yeah. I'm more of a downloaded version of Jason's anger. We're two different coins
now. We're nUUUHH!!!"

"What's wrong?"

"B-attery give."

Without hesitation Johannes gave Darkhalf a car battery. The creature absorbed all the
power within until his thrist was quenched.

"Sorry. Since I'm pure energy, the longer I exist, the more juice I need. But when I got
enough, I'm sending the Pantheon straight to Hell. And that tubbo Jason? I'm saving him
for last!"

***
"Hank, ever since my bossier side was reattached, I've become headstrong again. I
don't mean to. But this is Hat we're talking about. If anyone leads us, it's gotta be him."

"OWOWOWOWOWOWOOWOWOWOWOWOOWOWOW!"

Hank and Jason turned and saw Hatman running, with a marmoset attached to him by
his buttocks.

"Maybe I should stop appealing to separate groups."

"Maybe you should."

Chapter Thirteen: Campaign Connivances

by OzBat

A small figure in another dimension labored hard at a small desk in a smaller room,
which still managed to look huge in comparison to his stature. OzBat then sighed, rested
his feet on the desk, and looked up from his latest party platform idea. The "Ban Kylie
Minogue from appearing in any reality anywhere near the native dimensions of people
currently residing in J Street" Party brought an amazing, rousing cheer from anybody
who heard it. This could be the winner and so simple a platform! No need for long hard
debates on intricate inter-governmental pan-dimensional tariff protection issues with that
mustachioed twit down the road here! Single platform candidates always polarize
election campaigns, creating a suitably satisfying amount of confusion amongst both
other party candidates and the voting populace alike.

There was just one problem. Somebody was circulating pictures, apparently showing
OzBat in some kind of awkward-to-explain-type situation, with a wallaby of all things.
The pictures were fake of course, and an obviously cheap attempt to create an easy-to-
understand controversial link to OzBat's cultural heritage. But still patently, obviously, a
lie. Why, the closest he'd ever gotten to fraternizing with fauna of any kind was when
Jeannie insisted on wearing that itsy bitsy bunny costume

but we digress.

Oz glared at the growing pile of misdirecting material he had conceived, and wondered
how he could use it to extrapolate hisself out of this mess?

He floated from his chair, and moved over to the really small window, and gazed outside.
And thought of a marvelously brilliant, devious plan....

"Its time to let this really get out of hand!"

And he bamfed away.

 ***

Several hours later, in a corner of Grendels bar, a Pygmy Monkey of proportionally high
representation on J street, and wearing a postal workers uniform (also, remarkably in
itself, a proportionally highly represented occupation on J street) presented a package to
Jason Borelli, entitled "Urgent and Confidential."

The contents; a short letter and a couple of photos.

The letter reads, in part:

"Due to covert attempts to besmirch my reputation, I am forced to take drastic measures.

Either I receive sufficient support from your party to quench any unseemly rumours
before they arise, or these will 'accidentally' find their way to the press! (refer
photographs)."

The photos:

Several 'happy-snap' polaroids of Hatman's latest side-kick, Otto, caught in a revealing

position with the back doors of his small van thrown suddenly wide open, in an unnatural
act involving several chihuahuas and a jar of Brylcream

Chapter Fourteen: Ahh, Thats Better

by The Jester

The Jester sat in Grendel's, sipping his Hawaiian Punch.

"This is more like it," he said.

"Whattaya mean?" OzBat said, turning the new jukebox on. It played a Luscious
Jackson/Beastie Boys/Beck collaboration that may not ever be.

"Me being the Jester. These tights are more comfortable than the DaDamerican outfit.
Don't like carrying handguns around, either."

"Don't you ever spend any time in your own dimension?"

"Yeah, sure. Time flow is weird from here to there, though. Usually, after a few days here
I'll return to Earth A and it's like an hour after I left."

"Oh. I see." OzBat whistled along with the song.

"Say, where is everyone?"

"Well, Hank!, Hatman, and Jason are working on the election thing."

"Election thing?"

"Yeah, Hat's trying to beat out Johann von Stricklu something in the mayoral race.
Fate is backing him, because he stands for order."

"Order?"

"Yeah. As in Anti-Pantheon order."

"Those are two things I am firmly against. Don't want to lose the patronage of the ol'
Lords of Chaos, doncha know. Well, Hat's got my backing. If it comes down to it, he's
got the backing of the entire Justice League of Ashland."

"I'm, uh, sure he'll be thrilled."

***

"Darkhalf, I'm afraid I'm going to have to refuse your patronage."

"WHAT? WHY?"

"You deceived me. You are very much the costumed type. I am no villain. I'm against all
that craziness. I just want some peace and quiet on J Street."

"But but "

"No buts. I'm sorry, but I can't condone your actions or your views. I certainly can't
accept
your assistance."

"Awwwwww!"

"Now, out with you!"

Darkhalf sulked away.

Chapter Fifteen: Jack Kirbys Fourth Estate!

by Joe Grendel

J Street.
Johannes' campaign headquarters.
Shadowcat drops a massive hand (hey, he's a shape-changer, what do you want from
me?) on Darkhalf's shoulder. Immediately thereafter he drops the interloping supervillain
in a plot-twist-proof box.

"I'll let you out in time for the next story," Shadowcat growls into the locked container.
"This is a straight political farce, without superpowered combat."

"MmMph."

"What?"

"MMMPH!"

"Oh, right, airholes. Sorry."

***

The 900 block of J Street.

The shabby, smells-like-stank-day-old-coffee newsroom of the J Street Tribune-
Democrat-Daily-Times-Herald.

The grungy, pasty-faced octobeast flailed her tentacles with frustration.

"You call this a voter guide? We've got no information about either of these idiots!"
Blanto-Dear- West, city editor of the Trib-Dem.-Daily-Times-Herald turned her one
blood-shot eye balefully on Martin J. Uppercrust III. "Listen you Yuppie weenie, I could
make the next buffoon who walks in through the door into a better reporter than you "

"Uh, I fell down an open manhole cover and ruined all my papers. Could I get 200 more,
please?" Aquaman, smelling even worse than usual, stood dripping [something yucky]
before her.

Blanto-Dear-West waved a tentacle down the hall.

"That's Circulation." She looked back at Uppercrust. "You're going to hold me to that
'next person' thing, aren't you?"

Uppercrust, a huge smile disrupting his really-I'm-cool-goatee (flaking off the eyebrow
pencil), nodded slowly.

"Urgh," she rested her head on one tentacle. "Why won't they let me smoke, drink or
shoot heroin on this job?"

Chapter Sixteen: All the Way with "Oy, Oy Vey!"

by OzBat
J Street.
Directly across the road from 1602, Grendels Pond Bar and Grill.
Abdul Aziz' Pan-dimensional Emporium.

Aquaman pauses at the door, a slightly soggy press hat on his head, and a soggier
notebook in his hand.

"This isn't working. Wonder if Blanto-Dearie-Westie can get me one of those waterproof
whiteboard thingo's divers use?"

He'd been interviewing residents on the street for their views on the upcoming elections.
After three straight hours shuffling along the pavement, he'd come to several conclusions
1) Whatever was in the sewer he fell in earlier really stank.
2) Due in part to 1), most people gave him short, succinct, single syllable answers and
slammed their doors shut in his face. Having a hook on his left hand on occasion didn't
help him move on to the next place, as he'd then have to pry himself free from the door.
3) Writing notes on a soggy notepad was incredibly tough, as the lead of the pencil was
continually shredding the paper. Even WITH a 4BB. Again, the hook created additional
problems, none of which he dwelled on for too long, as he now had an actual, paying job.
Or would have, if he could meet the deadline, and prevent Blatent-Dearest-Wipeout
losing her/his/its bet with the Yuppie from Newsprint Hell. It concerned Aq! as well that
he was unsure of his employer's gender, being King of the Seven Seas and all that. Maybe
he should have finished that Aquarium owners course in night school oh yeah, and
4) Besides the party nominees (and possibly including most of them), nobody knew why
they were having an election, who was going to run it, and when it was going to be held.

Abdul Aziz, however, had a lot of views on the subject, and was only too glad to share
them with the newsboy neophyte, in order to promote the free-dimensional-trading gospel
according to his pan-handled mustachioed comrade of the Anti-Mayhem Democratic
Party. Abdul had waxed on lyrically for about half an hour until the Smell from AQ!s
armpits finally began to overwhelm him. And Aquaman escaped to the door.

The candidate himself, along with ShadowCat, Dr Fate, Abdul, and a few other
prominent
shopkeepers on J street, were gathered in a corner of Abdul's shop and discussing tactics.
Under the shop counter, in an ornate, bejewelled bottle, Jeannie put down her issue of
Djinn Weekly and gave up trying to concentrate on her favorite article, "Alternate
hairstyle trends after 2000 years in the bottle."

And then froze, as the conversation turned to photos rumored to be circulating, featuring
incriminating evidence of several candidates and associates involving animals. OzBat's
name came up prominently, and Jeannie hoped desperately that nobody had seen her little
'fluffy bunny' teddie. And then gave a silent sigh of relief when somebody described the
difference between a Wallaby and a Drowned River Rat.
It sounded like her beloved was in trouble. They'd had their differences recently,
including being heart-torn and hurt by the little rascal not writing whilst accidentally
shunted off for 20 years into an alternate future apocalypse that would now never come to
pass. She could let that go, now.

Abdul was a trusting type, and didn't leave the lid on the bottle, and was sufficiently
interested in matters elsewhere not to notice the pink mist that drifted out of the bottle
and out the door, making a very large detour around another wafting, odorous cloud that
seemed to emanate from someone in the middle of the road who also smelled of fish.

***

Later, several posters went up, announcing that several prominent parties now had a
running mate for their headlining candidate. The fact that all of these separate parties had
the same candidate was lost on most people. The photo, of an imp and a genie celebrating
over a candle-lit dinner and champagne, bore the title; "You're In with Djinn!"

Shadowcat glanced over one of these as a small bipedal primate-ish postal worker handed
him a letter, which had an aroma gently alluding to incense and perfume caressing the
pages. Inside, the message was not so sweet.

"Your part in instigating Flame Wars and Retroactively adjusting reality has not gone
unnoticed, AND we have the photographic evidence to PROVE IT! Post defamatory
material about other candidates at your own peril "

Chapter Seventeen: All Dressed up with Somewhere to go.

by JYu

1602 J Street

Life was good, for once.

Grendel's had finally finished reconstruction. Few more weeks, people might actually
forget who it was who leveled the place to begin with.

Sure, no one had actually seen it But still, JYu doubted it would be something he'd get
over, himself, anytime soon. It's not every day that one goes around discovering he's
responsible for leveling a pan-dimensional vertex. Actually, he took it pretty well.

"I hate the world and everyone in it. Hypocrites. Can't stand 'em. They go on some
bombastic crusade against anyone who doesn't share the same ideas as them, call people
names like narrow minded and hypocritical, then go and pose a response which
essentially states that they are in complete agreement. Do they even bother to listen to
what others say? Or do they just speak for the sake of making noise? Say what you mean,
mean what you say. How hard is that?"

"Sheesh. Here, have some hormone soup." OzBat seemed unusually calm, almost
pleasant, for someone who knew that an onslaught of media-induced queries concerning
the correlation between wallabies and his own social preferences was imminent.

"Thanks, OzBat." JYu downed the entire bowl in a single gulp.

"Sure." OzBat turned around to place the now-empty bowl into the sink. "So, whaddaya
think about this election thing?"

Five minutes of silence passed.

"Yeah, sometimes I feel that way, myself. I mean, what's the point, right? Nothing's really
gonna change. It's like buying a new pair of shoes only to find that you've dragged them
through mud half the way home " OzBat faced the front of the bar again.

In the place where JYu once sat, there sat a slip of paper:

"I regret to inform you that JYu had been called away to take care of matters of a more
pressing nature. He casts an in-absentia vote for Mickey Mouse.

Regards,

Durandal"

[Where has JYu gone? Why does he bear such angst toward the world at large? Who the
hell is Durandal? Find out in the upcoming Secret Origin of JYu!]

Chapter Eighteen: A Tree Grows on J Street.

by kevrhon

kevrhon sat hunched over a desk with the latest edition of the J Street
Tribune-Democrat-Daily-Times-Herald spread out before him. Shadowcat stood behind
him peering over his shoulder.

"The polls show Johannes van Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet is behind, and looks to

lose out by a wide margin to Stephen Cmelak. Who is Stephen?"

"Hatman." Shadowcat explained patiently.

kevrhon could be dense at times. He had fought along side Hatman for years through
scores of adventures, and yet didnt recognize him in his civilian identity. He just couldnt
pierce the disguise of a hat. Hat on, hes Hatman. Bare-headed, hes a completely different
person? Oh well. Shadowcat had suffered through much due to encounters with the
Pantheon. This election was proving to be no different.

"You know what we need?" kevrhon offered. " Some old fashioned speech making. A
whistle stop tour. No, wait. No trains. Ive got it, tree stumping! Well get a tree stump for
Johannes to stand on to give him an association with the common man "

"The common man on J street is a meta-human, an inter-dimensional traveler or a super-

villain. What frame of reference do they have for tree stumps?" asked Shadowcat.

"A lot of them have created them during all out epic battles. Everytime one of them rips
up a tree and uses it as a baseball bat or gives a guy one of those Gil Kane punches that
starts from way down here, near their buttocks and sends him sailing into a forest
knocking down trees like ten-pins. Stumps everywhere. Thisll be great."

kevrhon produced a small totem of some sort, waved it in the air in a certain pattern, and
with a puff of smoke a tree stump appeared in the middle of the Anti-Mayhem
Democratic Party campaign headquarters.

"Voila." proclaimed the man who was sometimes Fate.

Suddenly, the stump started to grow. Quickly. Johannes van

Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet got caught under the collar by one of the branches, and
was lifted off his feet and into the air. He hung for a moment in the air about four feet off
the floor. Abdul looked on in horror.

"Oh. Oh my. This is very much not a good thing."

Shadowcat leapt forward and tried to grab the candidate, just a second too late. In
moments, the tree spurted again, and carrying Johannes with it, crashed through a
window reaching for the sky.

Shadowcat glared at Dr. Fate.

"We will talk about this later."

kevrhon followed Shadowcat and Abdul as they bolted out the door. There, in the middle
of J street stood a 30 foot oak tree. Hanging from one of the branches, dangling in the
breeze, was a very flustered Johannes van Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet, with a bird
perched on one side of his well waxed handlebar mustache. As fate would have it, well,
not Fate, but, you know, chance-dumb luck-had put Aquaman in the street nearby with a
camera in his hand. He fumbled to get a shot or two off, but had a heck of a time hanging
on and depressing the shutter button with his hook. He thought he got something he
might be able to sell to the paper. He might be able to make a career out of this all yet.
As Aquaman raced to Foto-mat, Shadowcat turned to kevrhon and shot him a look that
by rights should have knocked him dead. "Look at what youve done. The candidate of
order is up a tree with a bird perched on his face. And a reporter captured it all on film."

kevrhons face reddened. "Well, I just thought, that is I "

"Just get him down," sighed Shadowcat. What this campaign needed now was the worlds
greatest spin-doctor. Fast. He thought he knew just who to call.

The Self-Indulgent Chapter 19

by Aquaman

J Street
Grendel's

Joe put the finishing touches on his bar.

"Damn, the opening tonight is going to be just spiffy!" He looked around. He hoped
nobody heard him say that.

But the opening hours away WAS going to be, pardon this, SPIFFY! Joe had a few new
additions to the menu. He took out his glowy little pen thing to write on the "Specials"
board above the bar. He wrote "BAKED MARMOSETTE."

"Shoot. gail2 had such pretty handwriting when she was a waitress here. Mebbe it's time
for me to get a new one."

Then, he thought, Business is gonna boom when we host the political rally. Normally I'd
say no to this sort of thing, but it looked like a good opportunity to rake in some cash.

***

The Sun Dried Green Tomato Party Headquarters

"Dang it, Hat. Just tell me how you feel about civil rights for rock monsters!" shouted
Jason.

"I don't know! I mean, it depends on if they're good rock monsters or bad rock monsters "

"Oh, great. Yet another issue you have to leave out of your speech for tonight! (Groan)
What exactly are you going to address?"
Just then, Hank busted in with 17 tiny-sized duck-bill platypii in business suits behind, all
bellowing something.

Their leader, a big-business tycoon on J Street, came out with, "If you say 'yes' to
Proposition 3.14-PI, you're taking money away from the hard-working platypii! Say 'no'
to the 'Beak-Tax', and give marsupials a chance!"

"Verily, Howard, I know not of this proposition you speaketh of, and I am unable to say
how the party will vote. Now, be gone! Be gone, vile amalgamations! Leave us, o jokes
from the Almighty!"

And with that, TMH! slammed the door, and wept.

"Hank, buddy, I know this campaign stuff's getting to you, but there's no reason to cry!
After Borelli here gives me the drop-dead speech he wrote, we'll be too far ahead in the
polls to even try to win!"

"ME? Steve, YOU said YOU were going to write the speech!"

"Sob."

"Well, Jason, I just kinda figured you would appreciate the extra responsibility. And, say,
does that mean that you didn't write a SPEECH?!" Hatman bellowed.

"WAH!"

"No, I thought YOU wrote the speech! Don't worry, though, I'm sure we'll come up with
something! And Hank, really, stop crying, it's detracting from your Mightiness. Things'll
work out, man. Chill." Jason, ever cool, assured his buddies.

"I hath slammed the door on mine own Mightiest Pinky Finger! It hurts like a mofo, too."
the Godling-'Moung-Men explained.

"We're in deep trouble." Hat said with a look of fear on his face.

***

The office of Blotto, Editor-In-Chief and resident Octo-creature of the J Street Tribune-
Democrat-Daily-Times-Herald.

"YOU WHAT?!" The half-octopus/half-something-too-disturbing-to-get-into stabbed the

already overfilled ashtray with yet another cigarette butt.

"I took a picture of a really big tree!"

"Uh-huh. And why, praytell, did you" he snickered "do that?" smirked Uppercrust, the
resident snotty, sissy-pants, kiss-up at the paper.

"Well, I thought it may be important to get a photo of the Party for Interdimensional
Order looking foolish. Shadowcat and kevrhon flew up to try to free Johann von
Idontknowhowtocutandpaste from one of the branches." Aq jabbed.

"Oh, you got this. Tell me you got this " Blotto-Come-Lately might actually have some
praise for Aq, if he didn't screw things up!

"Well, Yeah! I mean, probably! I'm sure that there's a really good chance that I got the
picture!"

"What is it? You may as well tell me now. I should've known you couldn't handle one
little task!"

Uppercrust started to laugh. The octo-creature stared at him an icy stare that only an octo-
creature could stare. He stopped laughing.

"HEY! There's still a chance I might've got it! I'm just not positive cause I well, I sorta
had trouble with my hook."

"BWAH-HAHAHAHAAHAHHA!" Uppercrust bellowed. Aq noticed that he was in the

bosses office almost perpetually.

"Shut up! It's still being developed! That photo came out or my name isn't, uh,
Aquaman!" Then Aq realized that "Aquaman" wasn't his real name. D'OH!

Aq schlepped out of there half angry/half smelly. Well, he was ALL smelly, but he was a
little confused. He wondered who he really was

***

Howard the Duck-billed Platypus was greeted on the street by a man with a silly-looking
handlebar mustache and a guy who looked like a Judge Dredd reject. Behind them all,
hovered kevrhon, leary.

"My friend, I feel your pain. That 'Beak-Tax' will be cut down, I assure you. All I ask of
you is your vote "

Chapter Twenty: "Hooked On Politics Worked For Me!"

by Hatman

1602 J Street,
Grendel's Pond Bar and Grill,
Currently also serving as the Sun-dried Green Tomato Party Campaign Headquarters
"No, Hank," J'onn said patiently, "you may not borrow $10,000 from me."

"But friend J'onn, 'tis for a good cause!" Hank protested. "How can Hat and I vanquish
the terminally morose Shadowcat and his figurehead puppet candidate, Johannes of the
Excessively Chatty Surname, without proper financing?"

"Hank, just because I'm green doesn't mean I'm made of money," J'onn sighed. "Martian
Gurus make surprisingly little in today's economy. Besides, I have a wedding to save up
for, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah. Right." Hank groaned and slumped against the bar in dejection. "Terrific. You
were our last hope."

"Not necessarily," gail volunteered from the corner of the bar. "You could always have a
political fundraiser, or something! Or hey, maybe Joe can give you an advance on your
sala"

"Whoa, babe," Grendel snarled, shaking his head. "Let's kill that idea in its infancy! Bad
enough I'm letting them use the corner booth for their campaign headquarters! No way
I'm gonna bankroll the campaign."

"Um, listen folks," JYu said, taking a pull of his Strawberry Daiquiri (Corsair is a girlie-
drink drunk), "but I think we're all overlooking something obvious here "

Hank frowns. Interpreting this as a subtle hint, he surreptitiously looks down to check his
fly.

" that being," JYu continues, "that Hat can't become an elected official in the first place!"

J'onn cocks a massive eyebrow.

"How so?"

"Hat's not an American citizen," JYu explains. "He's a CANUCK, for cryin' out loud!
Doesn't it say in the Constitution that you have to be a CITIZEN of the country you wish
to hold office in?"

"I think so," gail agrees. "Somewhere towards the back "

"Hmmm, I think he gets off on a technicality there, Corsair," Grendel says as he polishes
a beer stein. "Seeing as how J Street really exists outside the space/time continuum I don't
think we count as really being in America "

JYu shrugs.
"OK, fine. But consider this: The Canadian Parliamentary system of Government is
radically different from the system we have here in America, or wherever the heck this
is. Does Hat know enough to be able to cope?"

"Ah, thou hast uttered mine concerns as well, friend Yoo-hoo," Hank says.

"Um, that's 'JYu', Hank."

"And 'hey you!' right back at ya, Yoo-Hoo. Anyway, I too was most concerned that Hat
might not have the surest of footing where all this politics stuff was concerned but friend
Jason has the situation well in hand "

Most of those assembled at the bar cringed reflexively at the mention of Jason's name. It
wasn't that they didn't like him. It was just that, well, things tended to go a little buggy
when he got too involved. Having him mixed up in one of Hat and Hank's harebrained
schemes could only make matters worse

"Why?" Grendel said softly. "What's Borelli doing now?"

***

" and that's how a bill becomes a law," Jason concluded. He smiled at Hat and put away
the finger puppets. "You understand it now?"

"Keen! I didn't know bills could sing! And what a catchy tune!"

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Perhaps he'd borrowed from 'Schoolhouse Rock' a
little excessively. Oh, well, so long as Hat got the gist.

"You ready to move onto issues, Mr. Candidate?"

"Hit me," Hat nodded.

Jason resisted that urge, too.

Instead, he used the power of his ring to create a deck of Political Flash Cards (patent
pending). He shuffled them, then held up the first one.

"Increased Wages For Martian Gurus," he read.

"Um for it," Hat said.

Jason nodded and pulled up the second.

"Stricter Controls On Inter-dimensional Travel For Super-Heroes."

"Uh against," said Hat.

"Very good! Next one: 'Villain-free story threads.'"

"Oh, that's an easy one! Definitely for!"

"Really?" Jason blinked and consulted his platform list. "Hmm I could've sworn oh well,
there goes that sub-plot." Sighing to himself, Jason ripped an index card in two, and
elsewhere on J Street, a villain trapped in a box replete with air holes popped out of
existence at least for the time being.

Jason shrugged and pulled up the next card.

"Oh, here we go, this is a hard one: 'Public Floggings For Anyone Who Admits To
Liking Rob Liefield."

"Ah, verily that be a no-brainer," said the Mighty Hank as he walked up to the corner
booth. "That we are definitely in favor of!" He held up a cocktail napkin on which he had
hastily scribbled something. "In fact "

"Um no," Jason said quietly. "We do not condone flogging Liefielders."

Hat and Hank stared at Jason in shocked silence.

"No?" Hank blinked.

"No?" blinked Hat.

"No," answered Jason. He consulted his clipboard. "According to my demographics,

Cybernetically Enhanced Wieners are viscerally drawn to 'Avengelline.'"

"Naturally," Hat frowned. "Who else but a weiner would be?"

Hank turned to Jason dejectedly.

"No whipping Rob?"

"Nuh-uh," Jason said. "Not if we want the big numbers."

"Oh," Hank sighed. He looked down sadly at the piece of paper he held in his hands, then
crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder.

Hat watched as it bounced neatly of MRMIRACLE's head.

"What was that?"

"Oh nothing," Just an idea for a fundraiser I had. Kind of a moot point, now "

"All right, let's take a break on the issues, for now," Jason said, trying not to feel overly
discouraged. "Let's move on to the finer points of working a crowd."

"'Working a crowd?'" Hank grimaced in confusion.

"Yeah, y'know buttering up the rubes, trying to drum up votes shaking hands, kissing
babies, that sort of thing "

"Ugh! Sucking up, you mean," Hat scowled.

"Exactly," Jason said. "An essential part of any successful campaign!"

"'Shake hands kiss babies '" Hank mumbled, as he made a note on yet another cocktail
napkin.

"Jason, I'm not sure how comfortable I am with all this," Hat said. "Lying and sucking up
to people just to get their votes. Pretending to condone something I hate, just to get their
votes. Using what could very well be a harmless photo of a man and his goat as a tool to
besmirch his good name, just to get people's votes"

"Hat, this is Washington. It's a chihuahua-eat-chihuahua world. Kill or be killed. If you

don't take the first shot at Johannes, you dang well better believe he'll take it at you!"

"Um, sorry to ruin your fun boys," J'onn said somberly as he strode towards them, "but
I'm afraid Johannes already has." He handed Hat an envelope marked 'Urgent and
Confidential.'

Hat looked at J'onn skeptically for a moment, then tore it open.

"Oh, ye gods!"

"Holy schmitt!"

"Oh, that's disgusting!"

"Hey, nice van!"

Everyone turned to look at Hank.

"What? 'Tis a VW minibus! I've always been fond of those. Particularly the psychedelic
paint job. Reminds me of the Mystery Machine."

"Yeah," Jason scowled. "'Cept Shaggy and Scooby were never quite that close."
"How do you know?" Hank asked. "It could get pretty cold in the back of that minibus,
y'know!"

Everyone pretty much begins inching away from Hank.

"Well," Hatman sighed, "I guess this means Otto got over his troubling bout with
impotence okay."

"I'll say!" gail exclaimed as she peeked over Hat's shoulder. "Um, tell me, Hat: Does he
have a brother, maybe one who's not quite so into dogs?"

"'Into dogs," Hank giggled. "That's pretty funny."

"Only to you, Hank," J'onn said.

"Pretty sick is what it is!" Jason spat. "And if Johannes has the negatives, we're screwed,
blued and tattooed! The campaign'll be over before we even start! There's only one
solution: Hat, you have to distance yourself from this clown as far and as fast as you
possibly can!"

"What? Ditch Otto? Are you mad? He's my sidekick!"

"Hey!" Hank said. "I thought I was your sidekick!"

"No, Hank. You're my running mate!"

"Same thing! Same thing!"

"Jason, if you think I'm ditching Camera-Dude just to win some crummy election "

"There is an alternative, you realize," J'onn breaks in. "All you have to do is return the
aforementioned 'Goat' photo to Johannes, and have him procure the negatives of your
friend here. Even swap. Then neither of you has any ammunition against the other."

"Except for one thing!"

The assembled Pantheon turned to look at mope, who held up the letter that had come
with the photos.

"I don't think these came from Johannes," he explained. "Take a look: Whoever wrote this
letter obviously has an Australian accent."

The Pantheon blinked at him as one.

"You can tell," mope continued. "It's all in the way he stretches out his A's."
The Pantheon continued to stare. mope trailed off, embarrassed, then slunk off to the
corner to lurk silently for awhile. It was what he did best.

"Hmm, Australian, eh?" Jason stroked his chin in deep thought. "But that doesn't make
any sense. The only one any of us with an Australian accent is "

Suddenly White Knight burst into the bar with newspaper tucked under his arm.

"Hey guys! Get a load of this!"

Knight dropped the paper on the table in front of them and turned to a huge gatefold
advert in the middle of the front section.

J'onn frowned as he read it.

"'You're in with Djinn? What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"OZBAT'S RUNNING?" Hat shouted, staring at the picture in disbelief. "AGAINST

ME?"

"Aw, and it looks like he patched things up with Jeannie again, too," gail smiled. "Isn't
that sweet?"

"But why?" asked Hat. "Why? Why would he run against me? I thought we were pals!
What have I ever done to him?"

"Hmm," J'onn said thoughtfully. "The words 'compromising photo' and 'wallaby' do come
to mind."

"BUT THAT WAS JASON'S IDEA! NOT MINE! NOT MINE!"

"Hmm, this could be bad, " Jason grimaced. "Having a beautiful, scantily clad young
woman running his campaign will help his chances quite a bit. We're gonna have to do a
lot of fancy footwork if we're gonna stay ahead of him in the polls."

"What polls?" MRMIRACLE asked. "No one even knows there's an election, yet!"

"Ah, but they will soon, Miracle my boy! And they'll know that Hat and Hank are the
guys to vote for." Jason turns to his two charges. "Boys, I think it's about time we got out
and about, to meet the people!"

"You mean," Hank consulted his napkin carefully, "'Work the crowd?'"

"Exactly," Jason nodded. "We'll do the 'man of the people' schtick! People always love
that sort of thing!"
"Hurrah," Hat said flatly.

"Oh keen!" Hank grinned, jumping up from the table and heading towards the door.
"Finally we actually get to do something! Time to kiss some hands and shake some
babies!"

"That's the spirit, Hankster!" Jason grinned as Hank jogged out of the bar. He turned to
the despondant-looking Hatman and nudged him in the ribs. "You know, you could stand
to learn a thing or two from hi"

Jason suddenly broke off as Hank's last words suddenly sank in.

"NO!" he screamed, jumping up and running headlong towards the door. "HANK!
HANK! YOU KISS THE BABIES, HANK! YOU KISS THE BABIES!"

The Pantheon watched after him for a moment in blank confusion.

A moment later the door was flung back open. Jason and Hank both rushed in and
slammed it shut behind them, rushing back towards the Pantheon with bewildered looks
on their faces.

"Um," Hank said, utterly confused, "has that huge oak tree across the street always been
there?"

Chapter Twenty-One: Oblig Guest Shot

by Jason Borelli

Grendel's
(A little while ago)

Jason had never been this happy in a long, long time. As he walked in, he saw a crowd
gathered around a TV.

"All right! Hat's new and improved campaign commercial!"

"Um, no, Jason," replied Grendel.

Jason shoved the patrons aside. And was shocked at what he saw.

"-w, I'm tellin' ya, if the public can't have Ross Perot as President, then they gonna have
him as mayor of J Street. Hell, compared to me, some of them hero types are downright
norm-"

"Oh, man"
"So," said Grendel, big smile on his kisser (the one reserved for while the GL was down).
"What will you do now, oh campaign manager of the Pantheon?"

Jason lifted his head from the bar, and he got an idea.

He flew like a bat out of hell to where Perot was stumping.

"Now, what is the deal with this Key-mac fella? Boy's too wound up with all them
chihuahuas. And I have demanded that he debate me, but he says no. It's obvious what's
goin' on. HE'S DODGING ME!"

As the crowd roared with approval, Jason floated down to where Perot was.

"Well, looky what we got here. It's that Bernelli fella. Or it is Soselli? I get all dem Eye-
Talian names mixed up."

"Nice to see you, Mr. Perot. I come on behalf of my boss, the Hatman."

"Well, what does that Canucklehead want? He's scared, right?"

"He wants to debate you."

"Really?"

The crowd applauded.

"But of course, we have three main issues we want to debate."

"Shoot."

"Don't tempt me. First is taxation of extraterrestrials."

"Well, now, that is just sad. I feel-"

"Save it for the debate, Mr. Perot. Second is trade between our dimension and the real
dimension."

"Piece a cake. What's the third one, boy?"

"It's kinda tough. Ssor torep."

"Ssor torep? Where have I heard? Oh, no."

With that, Perot began to vanish.

"YOU JERK! YOU MADE ME SAY MY NAME BACKWARDS!"

Jason smiled. "Hatman for mayor. Because he won't disappear on you."

"THIS ISN'T OVER, FAT BOY! I'LL BE BACK! I'LL BBEEEE BAAAACCCCCC-*"

Chapter Twenty-Two: Cutting to the Chase (or something)

by Jason

Mr. Miracle's office.

"So, what's the verdict, doc?" asked Jason. "Is there anything wrong with me?"

"Jason, I don't know how to say it "

"Say it anyhow."

"You have a disorder where you're sane, friendly and rational sometimes, but other times,
you're a deranged madman."

"You mean?"

"Yep. Impulse Syndrome."

"Aw, man!"

"Jason, I must recommend relaxing for awhile. Take a day or two off. I say this as both a
friend, and as your doctor."

"You're right. I'll take a day or two off."

(A day or two later.)

"Jason, explain to me why I'm doing this for you?"

"C'mon Grendel, do it for Hat."

"All right, all right."

"Hey, at least you don't have to wear a uniform."

"True. You get things settled with Hank and Hat?"

"Yep. We're a well-oiled machine now. This is the entrance."

Welcome to the
Hatman Fundraiser
 Dinner
$250 a plate dinner w/hat
$350 a plate w/o

"Beautiful, isn't it, Jason?"

"Wouldn't know. Never tried to HTML before. Copied from another story."

Pause.

"Sorry. Self-doubts. OK, Joey, lets wow 'em!

"(And hopefully, no one will write me as a putz!)"

Chapter Twenty-Three: The chihuahua and the tiger.

by Joe Grendel

1602 J Street, Northwest.

Grendel's Pond Bar and Grill.

Joe, nattily attired in his tux the only known member of the Pantheon to actually own his
own tux leaned against the wall, eyeing the crowd.

The Minutemen, lured by the dubious promise that a first-edition signed copy of "Giant
Sized X-Men" #1 would be given away as a door prize, sat around several tables pushed
together. After a surprising number of minutes of fairly decent behavior JYu was already
back from his origin story they broke down and began throwing dinner rolls at one
another once the sometime-Corsair went to the bathroom.

gail, Regina, Amazon and hellgirl, seeking to drive the socially inept members of the
Pantheon even nuttier, sat together at a table near the stage, each more fetchingly dressed
than the last. None of them actually cared to date any of the Pantheon (Gallagher wasn't
present, Amazon had noted woefully), but they enjoyed the chaos they provoked. hellgirl
particularly, drinking Cuervo Gold straight from the bottle, burst into delighted laughter
each time a young man ogled her.

A group of dubious platypii not marsupials, incidentally, they lay eggs sat toying with
their cocktail napkins, murmuring about enterprise zones and slashing the capital gains
tax. Very single-minded, platypii.

Aquaman, his smell endearing him to no one, save an especially drunken platypus,
wandered the room, desperately trying to take notes on the event. But, as has been noted
previously, balancing a notepad on a hook whilst trying to write with the other hand is a
difficult proposition at best.
OzBat was nowhere to be seen. He, like the rest of these yahoos, was caught up in this
silly
election. The Tuesday after the first Monday in November November 5th couldn't get
here fast enough, so far as Grendel was concerned. Not one, but both his employees were
taking time off during the election, a situation that would continue if either of them won.
Grendel slowly ground his teeth, the sound disconcerting a group of very minor Greek
gods sitting nearby.

Borelli wandered past, pleased that no one had decked him, yelled at him, or ordered him
around unduly, yet he remained at the center of attention. Heaven. Grendel's hand shot
out, grabbing the Green Lantern by the scruff of his neck.

"Jason," Grendel growled, eyeing the crowd, "Just out of curiosity, what kind of cut am I
getting from the fundraiser?"

Borelli opened and closed his mouth several times, his brain working feverishly to come
up with an answer that would satisfy a man who'd once, once, been pleased by something
he'd done (rebuilding the bar). After a moment, the best answer he could come up with on
such short notice popped out.

"None of it." Goggle-eyed, Borelli clapped his hands over his mouth. "Oops."

"HEY!" An agitated pink elephant wearing a straw sunbonnet stomped out of the ladies'
room. "YOU'RE OUT OF TOILET PAPER!" In her agitation, she leaned against the
Wurlitzer, crumpling it, the fourth such jukebox to meet a grisly fate since July.

Grendel's eyes burned in a way no eyes not belonging to an X-Man should burn (what's
UP with that, anyway?).

"'None of it,'" he repeated, adding a Borelliesque Staten Island twang to his comment.
"Fine."

Jason, thinking something very bad had just happened, edged away, trying to think of
what to say to Hank and Hat. Just when things had been going so well

"Fishboy!" Flushed with rage, Grendel snarled at Aquaman again. A parademon, part of
the Congregation of Darkseid, Reformed, pulled on the cub reporter's sleeve and pointed
him toward the bartender.

"Whatcha want? Hey, did I tell you, I got a job?"

"Yes." Grendel looked intently at Aquaman. "How would you like a news tip that would
blow the lid off this campaign?"

"Sure!" Aquaman perked up a moment. Then, experience kicking in, at last, he grew
suspicious. "Uh, why are you doing this for me?"
Grendel smiled the way a tiger smiles at a gazelle.

"Oh, let's just say you'll owe me a favor. Another one."

Chapter Twenty-Four: Damage Control

by Jason Borelli

"None of it."

Jason replayed the scenario in his head over and over.

"But Joe, you're getting free publicity. Your business will boom eight-fold. Did I say that?
Oh noooo. I am a whopping moron."

He snapped out of his self-flogging mood when he saw Grendel talking with Aquaman.

"Oh, good. This I need. Bad enough I have to watch out for kevhron and OzBat. Not I got
Grendel pissed at me."

Jason calmed himself.

*Jason to J'Onn. Do you read me?*

Pause.

*J'Onn here. What's up?*

*Aquaman's gonna try something tonight.*

*You sure?*

*Yeah. Follow him. Take mope with you. And J'Onn?*

*Yeah?*

*Be prepared for the worst.*

*I copy*

"Is anything wrong?"

"AHH! Oh, Gail, hi. No, nothing's wrong. Not a thing. So, how're you and the other
ladies doing?"

"Good, I guess. Nice setup you got here."

"Thanks."

Damn, Jason thought. If only I had the guts to ask Amazon out.
Maybe after the election.

"More Cuervo!"

Jason instinctively grabbed a bottle with his ring, and tossed it to hellgirl.

"Thanks!"

"No charge."

Jason knew it was time for the candidates to make their appearance. Of course, he was
going to have to tell them to watch out for Joe and AQ.

Still, Jason checked himself out in the mirror, making sure the GL cap he was wearing
didn't look too dopey, things could be worse.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Things get worse

by Hatman

In the back room of Grendel's, surrounded by a bank of glowing monitors, Hatman sat
backwards on OzBat's monitoring chair and heaved a heavy sigh. This whole 'election'
thing was not going the way he'd hoped. He stared blankly at the monitors, watching the
fundraiser unfold from 27 different angles, as he waited for Jason's cue.

"It's important that you arrive fashionably late," Jason had explained.

"But why?" Hat had asked. " It's my fundraiser. I'm practically begging these people for
money, not to mention their votes. Shouldn't I be there to greet them?"

"In time, in time," Jason nodded. "But see, first we have to build the anticipation. We've
got to get everyone in the room wondering where you are, when you're going to show up,
what you're going to say when you finally do show up." Jason had smiled as he doffed his
Green Lantern cap, (which actually didn't look all that bad with his emerald tux). "Hat,
my boy, by the time you walk into that room, I want your name to be on everybody's
lips."

"Verily, t'will be," Hank had said then. "Everyone will be saying 'Where the hell is that
doof, Hatman?"

Jason had looked at Hank disparagingly, the way a Jedi Master might look at a
particularly dense student. "Hank, trust me on this one. I know politics."
And sitting there, in the dark, surrounded by the flickering monitors, Hatman was
beginning to realize something: Jason might know politics, but he sure as heck didn't and
he was beginning to wonder if, somehow, that might be a problem.

"Stinky?"

Hat blinked, startled out of his reverie. The door was slightly ajar, and gail's beautifully
coifed head was poked into the room.

"Oh," Hat said flatly. "Hi Blondie. What's news?"

"Oh, not much. Regina and hellgirl are having a contest to see who can make the
Minutemen hemorrhage first. Amazon's waiting out front for Joe Gallagher to show up."
gail stepped into the room to look him up and down. "Wow. Nice tux. Where'd you
find one with a Superman crest on the breast pocket?"

"At Abdul's. 'Course, I had to send White Knight in to buy it for me. Abdul won't let me
in, not since he's thrown his support behind Johann Jimmyjimmycocoabop."

gail frowned.

"I thought his last name was"

Hat shrugged.

"Running joke."

"Oh. Um, do you want me to laugh?"

"No, the moment's passed. Thanks anyway, though." Hat stood up, stretched, then
straightened his tux. "So what can I do for you, gorgeous?"

"Oh, Jason asked me to come back and make sure you had your speech on you."

"His speech, you mean." Hat reached into the pocket with the 'S' shield on it, and
produced a stack of index cards. "Ten minutes worth of political claptrap and double-
speak. Basically what it boils down to is: "Hi, I'm running for mayor. Here are the things
I've heard you want to change, and this is how I think you want me to change them, but if
I'm wrong that's all right, 'cause I can change on a second's notice. Bend me, shape me,
anyway you want me. As long as you vote for me, it's al lright."

gail smiled.

"Catchy."
"Right. Jason's obviously missed his calling. You know, you could shuffle these, read
them in no particular order, and it wouldn't change the meaning of it at all?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. And there's a reason: None of it means anything."

Suddenly Stephen turned and whipped the cards at the bank of monitors. They bounced
off a digital image of Regina and hellgirl walking seductively past a table of drooling X-
fans.

"Damn it, gail, what the hell am I doing here?" Hatman shouted.

gail watched him silently for a moment, then took a step towards him and put her hand on
his shoulder.

"I don't know," she said softly. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I just wanted to be involved again!" he said, staring at the monitors. "I just wanted to be
in on things! And ShadowCat was backing this guy for mayor, and he was gonna make J
Street normal, and it was gonna screw everybody up, and "

"And you wanted to save everybody," gail smiled.

"Yeah," Hat said softly. "I just wanted to save everybody. I thought I'd beat ShadowCat
and Johann Sleepyhappysneezygrumpydopeybashfuldoc, become Mayor, and then not do
anything. Just leave everything be the way it was." He turned and smiled lightly at her.
"You beat the villain, and then everything returns to the status quo. That's the way it
always works for super heroes, isn't it?"

"But you're not a super hero, here," said gail. "You're a politician."

"Right. And so people expect me to do something. To have something to say. And now
I'm involved in special interest groups, and mud slinging campaigns, and 'working the
crowd',
and making speeches I don't believe a damned word of. All because I can't beat this guy
by outsmarting him, or having Hank pummel him for awhile until he gives up. I have to
beat him at his own game." Hat blinks and looks at the monitors again. "Except I don't
like the game, gail. I don't like myself when I'm playing it."

"That's because you're not a politician," gail grins. "You're a super hero."

Hat shrugged. "I guess."

"So? 'To thine own self be true.' Drop out of the race."
"Except I can't," Hat sighed. "Because if I do, we're back to square one. ShadowCat and
Johann get in uncontested, and J Street becomes a police-state. Hon, people are counting
on me to beat that!"

"What about OzBat? He's running too, y'know. Even if you drop out, he'll still have a
chance to stick it to ShadowCat!"

Hat shook his head. "Ozzie's only involved in this because of that whole 'wallaby thing.
He's not really running a platform, he's just trying to make life difficult for me." Hat
shrugged. "It's a plot complication, I think, but nothing more."

"Oh."

"And besides," Hat continued, "Jason's put a lot of work into this campaign. A lot more
than I have, anyway. And he's really kinda come into his own with this whole 'campaign
manager' thing. I wouldn't want to take that away from him."

Together they turned to look at the three monitors zeroed in on Jason. There he was,
smiling, shaking hands, working the crowd, assuring people that yes, Hatman and Hank
would be along any second now, yes they would have new and important things to tell
them, and yes, the wetbar was going to be open throughout the speech...

"Hmm," gail said suddenly as something occured to her. "Ugh!"

"What?"

"Um, OK, you're going to hate me for saying this. Heck, I already hate myself just for
thinking it."

"Yeah?"

"But maybe, possibly, perhaps and I really do hate to suggest this, but maybe Jason is the
one who should really be running for "

"Hey!" Hatman cut her off suddenly. "What's going on over there?"

gail looked to the set of monitors that the Capped Crusader was pointing at: bursting
through the front door of the bar, big as life on six screens, were ShadowCat and Johann
Cindybobbypeterjanmarshagreg. In full formal attire. Jason rushed over to stand in front
of them, holding up his hands in protest, but ShadowCat brushed him out of the way with
ease. Together, he and his candidate strode purposefully to the makeshift stage set up at
the back of the bar.

"Oh great!" Hatman groaned. "Party-crashers!"

"Turn the sound up!" gail said.

Hatman looked down at the control panel in front of him, and turned up the volume as
Johannes stepped up to the podium.

"Ahem, Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he began.

"HEY!" shouted a cybernetically enhanced weiner from the back of the room.

"Um, and, uh, other sentient forms of life," Johannes introduced himself. "Allow me to
introduce myself: I am Hatman's opponent, Johannes" Hackcoughphlegmmucasspittle.

gail turned to Hatman and frowned.

"Sorry," he said. "Just clearing my throat. Lotta dust bunnies back here."

" the candidate for the Pan-Dimensionally Peaceful-Coexistence And Anti-Mayhem

Democratic Party or PDPCAMDP, as we're better known."

"How interesting," came J'onn's voice from the audience. "Coincidentally, 'Pdpcamdp' is
the Martian word for 'Extremely rude little man who I saw hanging by his shorts from an
oak tree, just yesterday.'"

Up at the microphone, Johannes turned a deep shade of red.

"Loosely translated, of course," J'onn said dryly.

"Ah, yes, well, um, you may all be wondering what I am doing here. Naturally, I haven't
come to support my opponent's campaign, and I most certainly haven't come for the
food."

Down on the floor, Grendel scowled and flipped Johannes the bird.

"And while it may seem extremely discourteous to some to interrupt the fundraiser of
one's political antagonist, I assure you, ladies and gentlemen and others, that I do have a
legitimate reason."

Suddenly the door behind Hatman and gail burst open. Jason burst into the room, his cap
crooked to one side. Hank barreled in after him.

"Steve," Jason said frantically, "we've got trouble!"

"I know, we've been watching. How did those two clowns get in here, anyway? Didn't
you hire security for this thing?"

"Verily," Hank huffed. "'Tis truly disheartening! This be a mead-hall, no? Where is yon
bouncer when we needest him?"
Jason, Hat and gail all turned to look at Hank.

"Oh. Right." Hank looked at the screens and smiled an evil little smile. "Well, back in a
sec!"

"WAIT! WAIT!" Jason shouted, grabbing Hank before he could march out the door. "We
can't throw them out now! They'd accuse us of being afraid of hearing what he has to say!
We'd blow the election!"

"But Jason," Hat pointed out, "we ARE afraid of what Johann has to say!"

"YES! I KNOW! BUT THE ELECTORATE DOESN'T HAVE TO KNOW THAT!!"

Hat rolled his eyes, then turned to gail and mouthed the words 'See what I mean?'

" purpose in coming here tonight," Johann continued, up on the stage, "is to challenge Mr.
Kem, um, Mr. Sme, um, Mr. Hatman to a one-on-one political debate, on the issues
concerning the J Street Electorate, you, the people, as it were."

"HEY!"

"And, um, other sentient life-forms, of course."

"And you have to do that here?" came Regina's voice from the crowd. "You have to crash
his party to do it? That's kinda gauche, isn't it?"

Now ShadowCat stepped up to the microphone.

"Naturally we do regret having to resort to guerrilla tactics in this matter," he said sternly,
"But seeing as how Hatman has declined every invitation for a discussion in this forum "

Hatman turned slowly to fix Jason with a withering glare.

"We have?"

"Hat, you weren't ready! You hadn't taken a stance on any of the issues, yet! You didn't
even know what the issues were! Heck, Hank here was gonna hire his cousin from Jersey
to build our CAMPAIGN PLATFORM!!"

"He's still available, by the way," Hank said. "Or is it too late, now?"

ShadowCat continued.

" and since the peop um, that is, since the public have the right to a comparative study
between their candidates, we felt that forcing Hatman out into the open might be best for
all concerned."
"But what's the point?" mope asked. "Everyone here is a Hatman supporter! Who do you
hope to convince?"

ShadowCat grinned nefariously, and pointed towards the front of the bar.

"Them," he said simply.

Suddenly the front door of the bar opened again and in poured television crews and
reporters from every news show, rag sheet and major daily up and down J Street in
hundreds of dimensions.

"Oh, great," Jason groaned.

Hat blinked at the assemblage of reporters, camera-men, boom operators and news
flunkies.

"Jason," he said quietly, "why couldnt you get me media coverage like that? All I got was
a salt-water-soaked rookie with a hook!"

"Don't worry," gail said calmly. "Everyone just calm down. ShadowCat still doesn't have
a moderator. It can't be a proper political debate unless there's a Hey, where'd that guy
come from?"

Hat, Hank and Jason leaned forward to look at the monitors. Standing alongside
ShadowCat and Johann, as though he'd been there unnoticed all long, was a familiar
figure, glowing, shimmering as though he existed on a plane slightly above ours.

In the front row, Amazon squealed with delight.

"Greetings, lesser beings," said the Joe Gallagher Avatar. "I will be your moderator for
this evening."

gail and the others stared at the screen open-mouthed.

"I have been chosen for the task as an impartial third party," the JGA said, "to oversee
this trivial human event."

"And how do we know you'll be impartial?" hellgirl demanded. "You were brought here
by ShadowCat after all!"

"Seeing as how this election has absolutely no importance on a cosmic scale, " the JGA
answered, "I think it is safe to assume that I really do not care who wins, either way. I am
beyond such petty human concerns." He looks down as something catches his eye, then
smiles and waves. "Oh, hi Amazon!" he says giddily.

"Oh, ma-a-a-a-an!" Jason groaned. "Could this possibly get any worse?"
As if on cue, a cloud of smoke burst into place on the stage with a loud "BAMF!" Johann
and ShadowCat jumped back. The JGA merely glanced at it, as though he'd always
known it would be there, or perhaps he was just distracted by his bird's-eye view of
Amazon's cleavage.

There, once the smoke had dissipated, stood an interdimensional imp in a cape, cowl, and
three-piece suit. He stepped up to the microphone.

"Well, I'm here. Candidate number two, present and accounted for. What say we get this
show on the road?"

Hat and the others stared at the screen in disbelief. Truly, things had gone from bad to
worse. Much, much, much worse.

It was Hank who managed to sum up their feelings.

"Crud," he said.

A series of concerned murmurs began to run through the crowd. The news crews finished
setting up and waited patiently. Johann stepped back up to the microphone, careful to
give OzBat a wide berth.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen and others, it appears as though we're ready to begin. Just as
soon as Hatman chooses to show himself, we'll get this debate underway."

"Crud," Hank repeated. Then, as if it would help things, he said, "Crud."

gail turned to Jason.

"Well, oh great, all-knowing campaign manager: What do we do now?"

"What else?" Hat asked, straightening his tux. "We debate 'em. C'mon Hank."

"But, but, but " Jason grabbed the back of Hat's collar, pulling him back into the room.
"But we're not prepared! You've never faced Johann down one-on-one before!"

Hat shrugged.

"So? I'll make it up as I go along. I'm good at that sort of thing." He winked at gail. "After
all, I'm a super hero."

gail smiled back.

"Good luck, Stinky. You too, Hank!"

"Verily, I dost think we shall need it," Hank groaned. "Have I said 'crud' yet?"
Frantic, Jason chased Hat and Hank out the door.

"Hat! Hat! Tell me you've at least got your speech on you!"

Hat turned and looked at the collection of index cards that was scattered on the floor on
the back room.

"Don't worry, Jason," he grinned. "We'll be ju-u-u-u-u-ust fine!"

And with that, Hank and Hat turned to meet the crowd

***

Standing amongst the reporters, Aquaman felt his heart swell with pride. Oh, man! His
first political debate! His first big assignment! And thanks to Grendel, he had the very
best
question of all! All he had to do was wait until Hatman took the stage and then
BLAMMO! He'd ask the one question that would set this election on fire!

Unfortunately, so wrapped up was he in his excitement, that he didn't see mope and J'onn
inching through the crowd towards him

Chapter Twenty-Six: Proposals

(Calm Before the Storm)
by Jason

There was a five minute rest before the debate.

Cool, thought Jason.

"Gail?"

"Yeah?"

"If I ever decide to do something like this again, you have full permission to shoot me in
the head."

"OK."

Now that that was settled.

*J'onn? Relay to Ozzie*

After a quick synaptic connection.

*Well, lookie here. Is poor widdle Jason afraid of me?*

*Dry up, doof. I have an offer.*

*Not interested.*

*I have the picture of you and the wallaby. And I know you sent the one with Camera
Boy.*

*So?*

*A trade. You promise not to bring CB's stuff up, and I won't let Hat bring your
indiscretion.*

*Why would I want to do that?*

*Because if you do, I have a picture of Johannes Whatumacholic you would like.*

*Really?*

*Hey, if Hat can't win, I'd like SOMEBODY from the Pantheon to run J Street.*

*I'll consider it.*

*J'onn? Any sight of Aquaman?*

*Yeah. Mope's spotted him.*

*Good. Tell him not to act unless AQ tries something.*

*Roger. J'onn out.*

Jason made his way on stage.

"Hat, Hank, you feel OK?"

"If you wanted to bring the notes "

Jason took the notes out of his jacket pocket, and burned them with his ring.

"Does that answer your question?"

The World's Lamest Duo stared at Jason.

"I wouldn't be pulling for you if I didn't believe in you." He patted them on their
shoulders. "Good luck!"
Jason then made his way into the crowd, and sat down next to Grendel.

"Joey? You spoil this for Stephen, and I will personally make this the last night you spend
on J Street. Capisch?"

Grendel stared coldly at Jason.

Meanwhile, Amazon took the aisle seat next to Jason. She still stared at the JGA with
love in her eyes.

"So, read any good books lately?"

"SSssshhhhhh! The debate's ready to start."

Mike Buffer came out on stage.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, and all sentient life...LLLLLLLLEETT'SS GET READY TO

DDDDDDDDEEEBBBBBBAATTTTTTEEEEE!!"

The crowd roared.

"First, from Parts Unknown, Johannes man, I can't read this Chockfulofnutsean!"

Applause. Johnanes glared at the emcee.

"Second, from the Land Down Under, the hero formerly known as Bat-Mite OZZZZZZZ-
BAT!"

Applause.

"And lastly, from Canada. the Pride of the Pantheon, Steven Cmelak, also known as
HHHHAAATTTMMAAANNN!"

Applause.

"The moderator is the Joe Gallaghar Avatar!"

Mild applause.

"All right, I want a good, clean debate. Rest period every half hour. Any questions? No?
Good! Now shake hands and come out debating!"

Chapter Twenty-Seven: In the Eye of the Storm

by OzBat!
Towards the back of the crowd, seated against the bar itself, are Grendel and Jason. The
crowd is animated and hushed at the same time, as Mike Buffer wastes another 20
minutes of Prime Air Time going over brief histories of each candidate, and being sure to
keep himself on camera. The candidates themselves are silently arming themselves with
blunt instruments, the better to remove him when Joe Gallagher gives the eyebrow.

Grendel's eyes roam the room, wondering who the heck is gonna clean up this mess if
OzBat actually (shudder!) won this debacle. Jason was wondering if his ring had the
Political Flash Cards stored in memory, now that he destroyed the originals in the passion
of the moment.

Neither noticed the pink mist that flowed quietly along the floor, until it suddenly
reformed on the stool between them in the form of Miss Septembe sorry, Jeannie; OzBat's
erstwhile campaign manager and lady companion.

"I believe, Jason, you had a proposal for my amazing little love machine out there?"

Jason politely resisted the urge to gag.

"Uh, yeah, the proposal!"

He was having a hard time resisting the urge to gaze at length down that skimpily
adorned cleavage, but knew that even behind his dark green sunglasses, everybody knew
he would be looking. So, being a Green Lantern, and Lanterns being famous for their
strength of will, he looked the other direction. It didn't hurt if he put a few small
magnifying mirrors in strategic positions out of sight, though.

Jeannie snapped her fingers, bringing both Jason and Grendel back to eye height
temporarily.

"Yes, your offer. The exchange of, shall we say, undesirable press material!"

"Ah yes, the 'Wallaby' photo "

Grendel looked up sharply.

"I didn't give you the Wallaby photo!"

"SHHHHHHH!!!! Keep it down, or all bets are off!"

"Listen Djinn, I don't care about your little political maneuvering; my sources supplied
that at some considerable cost, and "

"MIS-ter Grendel! I would have thought you knew better about your 'sources!' It is, of
course, a fake. Damaging nonetheless if it got out, but, a fake!"
Jason whipped up a magnifying glass and brought out the photo.

"Y'know Joe, she's right. That looks more like Mopee the gnome in a bat costume! But
why him?"

"Easy," snapped Joe. "Every other magical imp in the DCU has made some kind of
comeback, save him. He needed some kind of publicity, even controversial publicity. Of
COURSE its not OzBat, but it would've been enough to get him to stop pestering me for
a raise if you hadn't swiped it, Jason!"

Joe Grendel grabbed Jason by the power-ringed lapels and lifted him slightly off the
chair.

"You OWE me BIG TIME!"

"I'll tell you what, Gentlemen! I'll take this," she gracefully tucked the offending wallaby
shot down, down, DOWN somewhere very nicely hidden in spite of not wearing that
much, "And you two can negotiate over this!" And she quickly placed a small package of
negatives into Grendel's hands.

"Now boys, play nice, I'm going to watch my sweetums have some fun! He's only in this
for the mayhem, of course! Its SO much fun watching that twit with the mustache go
bright red when Ozzie mentions his Kylie Minogue record collection! Ta-Taa!"

And with that, Jeannie vanished into the mists again.

Grendel held a negative up to the light.

"Hmm that looks like Toronto in the background. Its kinda hard to make out, but whats
that guy with the cameras doing to those Chihauhaus in the back of that van?"

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Aquaman pops the question.

by Joe Grendel

Jason grabbed the negatives.

"Geez!" He pulled his sunglasses off as he held the negatives up to the light. "Hatman
really can't pick his sidekicks, can he?"

Borelli was so engrossed by the negatives that he didn't hear the SNAP of Joe pulling on
a pair of rubber dish-washing gloves. Yellow gloves.

There was a burst of smoke up on the podium.

"Now, whut the hayul iz this?" The little man with the big ears looked back and forth in
disgust. "First the presidential debates, now this! Ay ask yew, whut iz the problem,
people?"

OzBat quietly thumped his forehead against the microphone stand.

"Perot. Aren't you supposed to be gone for 60 days or something? Jason made you say
your name backwards."

"Dammit, OzBat, you should know better than that: You and Ay are from the same
dimension! Naw, J Street's the exception to the rule: Ay can come back in just 24 hours.
Ay'm the chigger you cain't get rid of by jest plain scratchin'!"

Hatman looked from one imp to the other, unsure as to whether Perot's appearance helped
or hurt his cause.

Johannes had no such questions.

"This is exactly what I'm speaking about, residents of J Street! Chaos! Upheaval! Fifth-
dimensional imps, playing one-upmanship games."

He could safely say such comments, the candidates all knew, as polls clearly showed
Fifth-dimensional imps were among the most apathetic voters in creation.

***

Elsewhere, a figure sat alone in a darkened room, illuminated only by his monitor.

"Perfect. Everything's falling into place. Soon, I'll be the most powerful member of the
Pantheon "

***

Jason put the negatives down on the bar, and scanned the crowd, now failing to notice
Grendel sliding the negatives into his tuxedo pocket.

*J'onn,* Borelli beamed his thoughts through their mental link, *Where's Aquaman? I
think I see him no *

*You're not helping, Jason. Mope's vanished as well.*

Jason looked down at the bar, then up at Grendel.

"Hey, hand over those negatives."

"Not going to happen, Sparky." Grendel smiled coldly, keeping his hands below the bar.
Borelli cracked his knuckles.

"I hate to use the ring, Joe, but you're forcing my hand here "

He slumped over, unconscious. Grendel shook his stinging hand.

"Ow! Couldn't his glass jaw be a little softer?"

He reached down, pulled off the Green Lantern ring and tossed it into the fish tank, then
dragged Jason into the back room, dumping him on the beaten-up sofa.

The Avatar tapped his microphone and cleared his throat importantly.

"Shall we begin? As this debate was called on such short notice, and all the candidates
may not have prepared questions for their opponents," He glared an eager Johannes and
Shadowcat into cowed silence, "We will be taking questions from the press corps."

J'onn noted in horror a golden hook shooting up over the crowd's heads, waving back and
forth frantically.

"Ooh, ooh! Pick me! Pick me!"

The Avatar raised one eyebrow and pointed at Aquaman.

The Reporter-Who-Smells-Like-Rotten-Fish looked at the notes on his sleeve, and read

his question in one breath, so as not to lose his nerve.

"Mr. Cem .. Cme ... Hatman, isn't your credibility as a political candidate called into
question by the fact that you once carried on an affair with the supervillainess known as
gail2, who at the time was married to your evil twin, the world-conquering sorcerer
known as the Reverse-Hat?"

Silence, marred only by the sound of Grendel removing his dishwashing gloves,
confidant that he'd have both his employees back on the job Wednesday morning.

"You're absolutely right," Hatman said at last. "That's why I'm pulling out of the race "

Grendel took a sip of celebratory RC Cola.

" And throwing my support behind my campaign manager, Jason Borelli."

Grendel spit out a mouthful of celebratory RC Cola and raced into the back room with a
bottle of selzter water to wake up the new Sun Dried Tomato candidate.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Fast Forward

by mope
The Next Day.

Joe's, around lunch time.

Most of the Pantheon are there, dashed here and about throughout the crowd. It's another
busy day at Joe's except this happens to be just a few days before the big election and the
campaigns are in a turmoil.

The night before Hat (who's a Canadian anyway) gave his support to St. Borelli.

And Borelli wasn't as happy about that as you might think.

Jason: Oh my god! What am I going to do? Oh god, this is pointless, I don't know how to
politick. I should be out there bash bad guys with my big green ring and generally
making the world a safer, greener place. I can't hug babies and kiss old ladies and that
kind of stuff you need to do to win

Seated at Jason's table are Red Ricky, Joe Gallagher (not the Avatar), Scarlet Rob, and
Amazon. Hank and Hat are both still recovering from the emotional whirlwind that was
the night before.

Red Ricky: Well, if you don't want to run, you could just drop out, you know.

Jason: Yeah, but then I'd be the Red Herring, the scapegoat of the entire Pantheon 'cuz
they'd say I let everybody down by not doing what I could for the Pantheon.

A familiar voice came from nowhere and everywhere: Or you could just run and win, and
make us all proud.

Joe Gallagher: mope?

From underneath the shadow of The Scarlet Rob's beer mug, The Dark Skulker, mope
enlarged to fill the booth between Ricky and Amazon.

mope: Jason, I can help you. I didn't say anything until now because I knew Hank and
Hat's race was not going to make it. I knew all along another Pantheon ticket would have
to come along, and I don't mean OzBat.

Jason: Yeah, but what's the point? We can't win. I don't know how to politick.

mope: But I do. How do you think my pal Ray Palmer the Atom keeps getting brought
back every couple of years if not for good old fashioned campaigning by yours truly?

mope: We have four days until Tuesday to get the Pantheon organized, out on J street and
get every single vote we can, and I know how to do it. Here's what I mean. Gallagher,
what do you have planned today?
Joe Gallagher: Uh, I don't know. I do have some quarters and that Galaga over there looks
awfully tempting.

mope: Right. My friend, if you'll just give me four days of your time, you can play a
crucial part in making a real change for J Street and for the Pantheon. Right now, you
could be out spreading the word door-to-door, or putting up posters, or on the phone,
reminding voters to get to the polls Tuesday. I know there's so much that you can ALL do.

Jason: Wait a minute though, I don't even have a running mate.

Red Ricky's head turns

Scarlet Rob's head turns

Amazon's head turns

Borelli's head turns

time passes and pretty soon people at other table's start turning their heads to see what
everybody's looking at

All eyes were on mope.

Borelli: Well, mope? You talk big, are you up for it? Want to be my VP?

mope: Well, now that you mention it

Within hours "Borelli/mope 96: Heroes for your Future" signs were being plastered on
every wall, window and bus on J Street by an impressive array of high-flying and street-
savvy Pantheon members in one of the most organized efforts J Street had ever seen. And
minds were starting to change

Chapter Thirty: Citizen Jason

by Jason

"Did you know about Hatman's affair with Gail2?"

"Barbra, of course I knew. But it wasn't his fault. Hat was conditioned by the IRCube to
come to gail2. It's not his fault that she was a skank."

Grendel's
10:20 PM

The crowd gathered around the TV.

"How did you know?"

"Well, I had switched brain-patterns with Fanboy, and infiltrated the enemy fortress. I
managed to bring back Hank, but the important thing is, Steve was not in his right mind."

"Do you want to be mayor of J Street?"

Pause.

"No. I don't. Hell, I don't even know if there's supposed to be a mayor of J Street.'

The crowd looked at one another.

"He's got a point," noted one rabid marsupial.

"I run only to protect J Street from Johannes Bananananafoofannabingbangwhatever."

"Are there any closing thoughts you like to share?"

"Yeah. Once this is over, I'm going back to Staten Island Where it's safe!"

Chapter Thirty-One: A Day on the Campaign

by mope

Saturday, Nov. 2nd

J Street, Washington DC

Today is the epitome of an election-fever Saturday afternoon. Up and down the district,
Pantheoneers are out on the streets getting the words "Borelli" and "mope" on everyone's
tongues.

***

An example:

The Red Ricky walks up to the door of an average-looking residential house, just west of
Georgetown on J Street; a very respectable neighborhood. Thinking to himself, "Well,
here we go again," The Red Ricky knocks on the door. The usual pause follows, and then
there is the usual voice saying "Coming!" from deep within. The door opens.

A thin middle-aged lady, very classily dressed, opens the door. She has a very obvious
look of surprise and astonishment on her face as she takes in the spectacle of finding a
full-fledged, costumed-to-the-hilt, real-life SuperHero) on her doorstep.

"Good afternoon, can I help you?"

Red Ricky: Yes maa'm, I'm just out in the neighborhood today reminding everybody that
this coming Tuesday is election day, and I'd like to let you know about the very qualified
and respectable ticket of Jason Borelli and mope.

Nice Lady: I see what is it they're running for again?

Red Ricky: Hmm I'm not sure now that you mention it. I don't think it's mayor, not
president Just sort of "Head Honcho" I guess...

Nice Lady: Well, I do appreciate all you nice young heroes flying around here making us
all safe, but I've heard such things about this Mr. Borelli

Red Ricky: Oh, yes, well all great leaders have their critics, maam.

Nice Lady: Well, I did vote Nixon, so I guess I can vote Borelli.

Red Ricky: Maam, if you need a super-powered escort to the ballots Tuesday, just let us
know down at Joe's. Good Day.

This kind of scene is repeated up and down J Street from Georgetown to the mostly-
respected lanes near Embassy Row and then over wherever J Street ends on the East side
of town Heroes rallying the masses for the next Great Mope Hope

Chapter Thirty-Two: History

by kevrhon

The debate was over. It had been about as chaotic as anything else in this campaign.
kevrhon, Shadowcat and Johannes van Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet sat alone in party
headquarters trying to figure out a way to salvage this election. Shadowcat sat in a corner
poring over poll data, projections, and other facts, figures and speculation, while kevrhon
and Johannes sat on a couch enjoying some Nestles International Hot Cocoa. It was
Swiss Chocolate. Actually, they were all Swiss Chocolate, just in different packages with
different names. kevrhon thought this would be a good time to ask something he had been
pondering for a while.

"Johannes, how is it you came to live on J street?"

"Vell," began Johannes. When he was tired, he slipped back into a slight German accent.
"My great-great-grandfahzer came over to America around the turn of the century, to
escape the wars that he saw coming in Europe. He wanted a better future for his family.
He worked hard, and after work he studied hard in order to earn citizenship in the United
States. In his research, at the Library of Congress, he discovered some old forgotten
writings that had fallen in behind the stacks. In it, he found a page from Ben Franklins
diary, written in his own hand. It seems that several of the founding fathers had dabbled
in the occult, foremost among them Mr. Franklin himself. One night after way too many
brandies, the group decided it would be funny to correct Pierre LEnfants omission and
create a J street. They all passed out naked on the floor in the middle of Ben Franklins
parlor, and woke shivering in the breeze from the open windows. They passed it off as
drunken delirium.

"My ancestor thought that this would be a perfect place to raise a family, and, being so
secluded, it would be a perfect base of operations. You see, his son, my great-grandfather,
was the costumed mystery man, Der Schnitzel!"

Chapter Thirty-Three: Hot Dogs and Head Counts

by kevrhon

"Your great-grandfather was The Wiener?" kevrhon was very surprised. He had heard the
stories of this short lived hero of the late 20s, and thought he was just a pulp fiction
character. But now, to find out he was real, and this was his descendent. He suddenly felt
a connection to the candidate beyond his appreciation his policy.

"Yes, The Wiener, The Bratwurst, The Sausage, Capt. Frankfurter, Mr. Foot-Long. The
American press was not kind in their loose translation. His father was his mentor, and his
son, my grandfather, was his sidekick," Johannes related wearily.

"But, their careers were short-lived as I remember," kevrhon offered.

"Yes," Johannes affirmed. "There were those from the mother country that didnt like
losing even a minor hero. And my great-great grandfather was a very minor hero. The
ability to give others gas was not a very useful power."

"We have a member of the Pantheon that might disagree with you. Please, go on."

Johannes continued, "They sent The Panzer after my family. After a violent chaotic battle,
both of my ancestors were killed. My father vowed on their graves that he would never
rest until such bedlam was never again visited on his home. I want to carry on that work.
That is why it is so important to me to be elected mayor. I have nothing against your
friends, it is just the element that they attract."

Just then, Shadowcat looked up from his reading, and looked at Johannes.

"Say, just exactly how many legal, actual residents are living on J street?"

Johannes pondered for just a second, then held up a hand and began counting on his
fingers.

"Well, of course theres me, Abdul, who runs the shop across from Grendels and Grendel
himself. Three. There are three residents of J street. Everyone else is a resident of
somewhere else, just passing through from one dimension to another." Johannes blinked.
"You mean you didnt know?"

kevrhon rolled his eyes.

"You mean all of this, this election, all of this has been for the benefit of three people?"

Chapter Thirty-Four: Who watches the Electorate?

by Joe Grendel

kevrhon scratched his head.

"Wait, wait, wait! How about Miracle? I thought he and Barda lived above the Therapy
Center."

Shadowcat shook his head.

"Still registered to vote on Apokolips. Not that free elections will be occurring anytime
this millennium."

kevrhon pointed at Shadowcat.

"How about gail? The House of Mystery is located at 13th and J."

"Sometimes," Shadowcat said. "Partial manifestation residences are ineligible."

"Fanboy?"

"Clinically insane and thus ineligible."

kevrhon slapped his forehead, making his helmet ring like a bell.

"Well, what about me? The wife and I have a tower on the street "

"Did you register?"

"Uh, no." kevrhon frowned beneath his helmet. "This seems odd are you sure there's no
more registered voters?"

***

The Jester pulled up outside the Cybernetically Enhanced Weiners VFW Hall in the
Jestermobile (OK, it's a 1979 Dodge Rambler with a broken taillight) and leaned on the
horn.
"What? What?" A senior wiener stomped outside, gesturing angrily with his robot arms.

"You remember guys, I'm taking everybody to get registered to vote."

"It's too late to register."

"Hey, J Street connects to the past. We take the right turn on Archimedes Circle, and
we're back far enough in the past two months to register nice and legally. Hop in. If the
platypii and the pygmy marmosets just move over, there's plenty of room!"

Chapter Thirty-Five: Easy-bake defectors.

by MRMIRACLE

Grendel's.

"So tell me exactly how that works?" crooned Amazon.

"Can't," blurted Miracle, his customary grace gone all higgledy-piggledy,"'S

therapist/patient 'nformation. Conf'dential."

"Joe," called the lucious warrior-woman, "I think the good therapist could use another."

As the vodka martini landed in front of him Miracle licked his lips. His head was
spinning so that he was glad that there weren't any reflective surfaces. The sight of his
own retina-blistering costume would surely have made him barf.

"Now what was that about Dr. Fate and Orion?"

Taking a deep sip of the martini, Miracle slurred, "'E's as much 'Rion as he is Fate. Jus'
turn on 'is mutherfu- 'scuse me. Jus' turn on is Motherbox and you'll see. Won't give a
damn 'bout order no more."

Amazon smiled. She managed to get the glass out of his path just before Miracle's head
hit the table with a thump.

She sauntered over to the bar to return the half-consumed drink.

"Find out what you wanted?" Grendel asked, momentarily looking up from marking-up
his price list in anticipation of an election-day business boom.

"Yeah, but fourteen martinis is a big price for what he had to give. Say, do you think that
his motherbox will help him with the hangover he's going to have?"

BLAAAAAARFFFFF!
Grendel gave Amazon the glare that removed all doubts about his demonic nature.

"You are cleaning that up!"

Chapter Thirty-Six: D'oh!

by The Jester

"Oh, no."

"What is it, Shadowcat?"

"Johann, there's more voters now. A lot of them."

"What? HOW?"

"I don't know. I mussed have missed a page they're right here. Odd."

"Who is it?"

"Let's see Rice, Cubbedge, Kuyper, yadda yadda yadda, some cybernetic weiner dogs,
some platypii this is not good."

"kevrhon! Go find out what's going on! Make yourself useful!"

***

Grendel's.

The Jester, The Justice League of Ashland, and other residents of Earth A, along with
assorted cybernetically enhanced weiner dogs, oviviparians, and the odd sentient venetian
blinds were all dancing to the groovy sounds of Man Or Astroman? while MIRACLE
dozed at a nearby table.

Suddenly, kevrhon burst in.

"JESTER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Political fallout

by Joe Grendel

Joe Grendel leaned in the doorway, ignoring what was going on inside his bar.

"What are you two making there, Hank?"

The Asgaardian paused in his vigorous hammering to wipe the sweat from his brow with
the back of his hand.

"Ah, good Joseph. My cousin and I are building ballot boxes for the election. Jason said
he doesn't need us to build the campaign platform."

"Ah," Grendel nodded.

There was a tap on Grendel's shoulder. He turned, just in time to receive a right cross that
sent him sprawling.

"Ow. Hi, Hatman." Joe touched his nose, checking to see if it was bleeding. "Guess you
found out who told Aquaman about you and gail2. We even now?"

"Yeah." Hatman shook his stinging hand. "I didn't want the job anyway. But I did want to
accomplish some more things before I handed off to Jason. I was going to actually score
some points in that debate!"

"Well," Joe said, as Hatman helped him to his feet, "Why not just schedule another
debate?"

Back inside, kevrhon hauled the Jester up by his multi-colored lapels.

"WHAT? DID? YOU? DO?" He punctuated the question by shaking vigorously, making
the Jester's answer somewhat incoherent. kevrhon, realizing this, stopped man-handling
him and let the Jester repeat himself.

"Ooh we had a voter registration drive. Took everybody back in time. Could you point
me toward the men's room? I think I'm going to be sick."

"This is exactly what's wrong with you people!" kevrhon snarled. "You can't just casually
manipulate the timestream for your own ends!"

The Pantheon was pointedly not listening. Miracle, mumbling something about Red
Monster having her therapy appointment, excused himself. kevrhon looked around the
room, fuming.

"Borelli? What are you doing over there?"

Jason, his face pressed up against the fish tank glass, whimpered pitifully.

"Grendel threw my ring in there. I'm scared to go fish it out, because Hank said most of
the fish in there are carnivorous."

kevrhon smiled.
"Weeeell, I could magic it out," he drawled slowly, "If you dropped out of the race."

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Pollution control

by OzBat!

At this strategic point, somebody entered the bar. Usually, you'd expect a plot
complication of this magnitude to have major ramifications on the events unfolding
therein; but seeing as how it was only Aquaman, everybody breathed a sigh of relief. And
then remembered how bad he smelled lately, and held their collective breaths.

"Hiya guys! Whats this I hear about somebody else dropping out of the race? C'mon, you
can tell me! I'm the PRESS!"

"Grendel threw my ring in the fish tank with all the piranhas," mumbled Jason.

"Is that all? Been there, done that!" And quickly, the worlds greatest waterlogged one-
handed wonder flicked the ring out with his hook. "Ta-daaa!"

"Hey, thats great! Thanks!"

"Nahhh, its nothin'. Really nothing! The boss'll probably bury that magnificent save
somewhere amongst the page 50 classifieds "

Jason flamboyantly repositioned the ring on his finger, flashing it around under kevrhons
nose.

"That hook of yours sure comes in handy! How'd you get it anyways?"

kevrhon grinned evilly under his helmet.

"He met some of those fish's cousins some time back! And if he doesn't move it, the rest
of him will meet them pretty soon!"

AQ! took the hint. He was a reporter; trained to notice these things. Why, it'd have to be
almost subliminal before he missed a hint like that, no matter how subtle the subject
matter

"FISH-FACE! MOVE!"

"Sheeeeeeeesh! No need to shout! And doesn't it echo under there? Hey, put me down!
HEY! "

And with that, Aquaman left the bar. The mighty mystic kevrhon could then massage his
sorely ringing temples, after the shout reverberated at length inside his helmet.
"Why, oh why, do I bother?"

kevrhon straightened himself, straightened his helmet and cape, and let his eyes readjust
naturally.

And naturally focused on yet another poster on the window, pasted so as to be read from
the inside:

"Are you tired of trying to tie down any particular candidate on your pet issue? Solve that
problem now! Send $20 to the address below, and you'll receive your very own How to
register as a single-issue party in time for the elections! You will receive a small booklet
outlining how the author has established over 50 viable party platforms in the last 5 days
alone, and still managed to be a force to be reckoned with in this vicious political
climate!
Are you worried about missing vital registration deadlines? The easiest off-ramps from J
street to the past, outlined in an easy-reference full color map! Let people KNOW where
you stand! Become a candidate! People will never be confused when they see YOUR
party signature. They'll always know EXACTLY what you stand for, and your personal
integrity can never be sullied on shady political maneuvering or back-street dealing! Send
your money NOW!"

"This is an AtoZ Ozbat production"

kevrhon then proceeded to belt his helmet against the door of the bar.

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Prologue to Intrigue

by mope

Monday, November 4th, 7:30 PM

A mysterious office deep below J Street.

A bank of monitors glows in a darkened room. A floating figure hovers reflectively

before one of the terminals. The mastermind looks down for a bit and then backs up about
3 feet;
remembering it's unhealthy to stand too close to a TV screen. Few super-abilities can
protect one from those urban-legendary "gamma rays!"

Floating again at a safer distance, the mysterious mastermind commented at the screens at
his command: "Ah, it's all going so well. One more day, and then I can release my
information, and I will be the biggest player on J Street!"

A monitor in a lower corner shows a close-up of Oz-Bat.

"Hmmm yes, he's still a problem. We'll overcome him too. Hmmm good thing I thought
to make these secret cameras Mite-proof. I've learned lessons from Batman's mistakes,
that's for sure!"

Floating back to his desk on the far side, the mysterious figure picked up a fat, over-
flowing bin of manila envelopes, photographs, computer disks, packages and legal
testimonies. On the bin there was a note that said simply "Unleash November 6th!"

On most of those photos could be seen one very familiar face

"Mr. Borelli won't even know what hit him!"

Chapter Forty: The Day Before Elections

by The Jester

Hatma Borelli/mope HQ.

"OWW!"

"What hit you, Jason?"

"I don't know, mope. I just don't know "

***

Ozbat/Jeannie HQ.

"All we can do now is wait. And hope."

"Hope? For what? You don't think I care if I win, do you Jeannie? C'mon. Let's take a
break. Your dimension or mine?"

***

Johnpaulgeorgeringomickeydaveypetermike/Shadowcat HQ.

"We've done all we can, Shadowcat. Hopefully, the people will show that they want order
in this place."

"Yes. Order." kevrhon grinned creepily.

***

Elsewhere.
"Heh heh heh. This is terrific. They're completely oblivious to me! Treating me like some
plot thread that everyone forgot! Ha! Soon I will be the most powerful Pantheon member
of all! Won't that be neat? Wait. You're a rack of television monitors. Why am I talking
to you?"

Chapter Forty-One: The calm before the storm.

by Joe Grendel

Grendel's Pond.

Amazon looked up from the pool table at the flash of light coming through the front
window, diluted as it was by countless political flyers.

Putting down the pool cue (she'd been practicing by herself), she stepped outside. Her
mouth fell open.

"Who are you?"

"I suppose we've never met. I am Jonah the Monitor. And these," he waved his arm
toward the multitude behind him, "Are the Jonah Corps."

"The what?"

"Yes," he nodded understandingly. "No one talks about it much, but there are three Corps
who seek to preserve dimensional integrity, seeking to right wrongs across the multiverse.
The best known is the Joe Corps, composed of cross-dimensional analogues of Joe
Gallagher. The Jonah Corps is another."

"What are you doing here?"

"Why, monitoring the election. Each of us is taking a polling station. I wouldn't put it
beyond OzBat or mope to try something underhanded, and somehow Shadowcat's law-
and-order comments ring a little hollow. It never hurts to be careful."

Amazon nodded.

"Glad to know you're on the case."

She walked back inside. Gallagher had better call her for another date soon, she thought,
or she'd ask OzBat for Jonah's number. Those omniscient types really did it for her

Chapter Forty-Two: Venting

by Jason
Gail's House of Mystery
(Part-Time House of the Pantheon)
(I think)

The doorbell rang. Hatman went to get it in his Hat-jammies.

Jason was there.

"Hi! Ready for the big elect-UGH!"

His words were cut off by a giant green hand choking him.

"Wh are you doin'?"

"I hate you. I really hate you."

The grip released, Stephen hit the floor.

"God, you are a loser. One hint of infidelity, and you leave the race."

"But Ja-"

"AND IT WASN'T EVEN YOUR FAULT, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"

"I can ex-"

"And then you throw the campaign to me. Hank's standing next to you, Hank's the coolest
around, why the hell didn't you tab him?"

"Real-"

"I believed in you, Stephen. I really did. Now I am dead. I don't even have any plans for
when I win. Well, I'm thinking of kicking Grendel off J Street, but I think he may be
immune to my power."

"Jason, the stuff you put me through was unbearable."

"What I PUT YOU through? Not when I was writing the posts!"

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Re-enter the race."

"Jason it's one hour before the polls open."

"I know. You get back in. You and Hank. You admit you panicked, you go out and you
take no prisoners."

"Or else?"

"Or I don't want a damn thing to do with you."

And with that, Jason flew away in a blinding flash of green.

Chapter Forty-Three: Spider and flies.

by Joe Grendel

Elsewhere.

The monitors blazed with green light, as the mysterious mastermind watched Borelli
soar away.

"Yes, Jason, it is a great deal of responsibility, isn't it? Luckily, it will be my hand guiding
things on J Street, come tomorrow "

The mastermind laughed, laughed, laughed.

Chapter Forty-Four: Inside out.

by JYu

J Street.
Grendel's.

The Bar was conspicuously empty, everyone having gone off to the voting booths. The
fate of J Street now lay within the hands of its inhabitants and visitors.

Scary thought.

Even scarier was that, for once, the place was quiet enough for one to actually hear the
aforementioned thought.

For a while, at least.

Somewhere in the back of the bar, the silence was penetrated by the sound of a steel
doorknob turning and then stopping halfway.

Actually, the silence itself could be credited for allowing this to be heard. With all the
excitement about the various candidates' political campaigns, it was ridiculously easy to
overlook some small clicking sounds which had been present for quite some time.
But now

click-CHAK!

click-CHAK!

click-CHAK!

From behind the door came a voice.

"Um hello? Anyone out there? I'm kinda stuck. The door seems to have locked itself "

Silence.

click-CHAKCHAKCHAKCHAKCHAKCHAKCHAKCHAK!

"C'mon, this isn't funny."

bam

"Let me outta here. PLEASE."

BAM

"DAMN IT. I'M STUCK IN THE MEN'S ROOM AND LOSING AIR. IF NO ONE
COMES, SO HELP ME, I'M GONNA BUST THIS DOOR DOWN."

Silence.

BAM

The door fell off its hinges and landed flat on the floor in front of the doorway. JYu was
lying on top, gasping for his first breath of fresh air in lord-knows-how-long.

Minutes passed. Finally, having regained his composure, he picked himself up off the
floor.

"What on earth did Hank do in there?" JYu asked himself as he wandered out of the Bar
to the voting booths.

Chapter Forty-Five: Rock the vote

by hellgirl
hellgirl and gail were taking one of their customary jogs through Limbo Park. So far they
had taken out six muggers, nine fratboys, and a busload of Marines. (And gail hadn't even
had to adjust her scrunchie.)

"So, hellgirl, who are you voting for?" asked gail as she socked a construction worker in
the nose and hurdled a couple of park benches.

"Well," said hellgirl, "I'm very much opposed to order of any kind on J Street. But I'm not
sure who the best candidate really is Hat and Jason can't seem to decide who's running,
there are all those special interest groups that only just bothered to register, and I still
haven't figured out who on the block is secretly a marsupial. But I know I'm not voting
for any 5th dimensional imps I have the feeling they'd back out at the last minute
anyway."
As if to punctuate her statement, hellgirl planted a flying kick in a corporate lawyer's
groin.

"All good points," agreed gail, "although I do know who the Secret Marsupial is." She
paused to gouge some eyes and yank some hair. "It's been such a madhouse around here
I'm thinking we should get a bus and all take a road trip or something. Just to get away."

"I just got back in town, but I'm game," replied hellgirl, snapping someone's arm at the
elbow joint. "But first I have to puzzle through all these ballot initiatives. What we really
need is a voting guide to make sense of all these single-issue parties that are clogging
things up."

"That," said gail, "would be far too organized. Besides, aren't you signed up as the Fire
and Brimstone Party?"

"No," said hellgirl. "That's the bash Grendel and I have been planning."

"Oh, cool." gail slammed a nearby gawker into a tree. "Well, here we are at the voting
booths "

Chapter Forty-Six: Exit polls

by hellgirl

Aquaman was desperately trying to get a feel for how the voting was going. He'd
managed to keep his job thus far only because of that well-placed question at the debate,
and that had been a lucky break. Now with two percent of the vote in he was hoping to be
able to provide minute-by-minute coverage of how things were progressing, but he'd had
no luck so far. Every pygmy marmoset and platypus coming out of the polls had turned
their noses up at him. He squirmed in his chair and opened his soggy notebook again,
then closed it. Still blank. The puddle at his feet was growing and his chances of
impressing everyone with his journalistic talent were shrinking. If only that photo had
come out
"Damn this hook," he said to himself, not for the first time.

***

ELSEWHERE.

The mysterious figure peered at his monitors, frowned.

"It's all happening so fast. Too fast. All my markers had better be in place."

He fiddled with an envelope containing secrets only he had access to.

"What am I worried about? I have everything I need. There's no way they can stop me "

***

ANTI-MAYHEM DEMOCRATIC PARTY HQ.

Johannes van Mocklingstricklenausgeseichnet was pacing nervously.

"Will you cut that out?" ShadowCat was irritable. All those weiners and exotic mammals
registering at the last minute or before the last minute or after the last minute or
something. There ought to be a law. There had to be a law.

"I can't help it." Johannes twisted his mustachio. Lately it had taken on an unusually ratty
appearance. "I thought we really had things in hand. That early poll we saw gave me
nearly 70 percent of the vote, with 30 percent declining to state "

"That's because you and Abdul and Grendel were the only ones polled at the time." There
was no law. That was entirely the problem. J Streeters didn't like laws.

"I know I know I know. Damn that Jester and his Motor Voter. But still, even with the
sausage interests-"

"Stop pacing. We're going to be fine. Platypuses are an extremely conservative segment-"

"Conservative! Conservative! They can't even decide how to have babies! That's just not
natural! There's something just something sick about those freaks!"

ShadowCat sighed. He'd spent hours coaching Johannes on his needed tolerance of the
stranger elements of J Street's populace. Thankfully that smelly fish guy hadn't used the
debate to ask them about their views on oviparous mammals.

"Look, I'm sure they've forgotten that you mistakenly referred to them as marsupials "

"And don't forget the marmosets "

"Them too, I'm sure we've managed to push the blame for that onto the imp."

"Rrrg, him too. And all his brethren. He's responsible for most of this confusion."

"The confusion will help us. In times of chaos, people look to points of stability. You're
the only candidate who's stood against the turmoil." ShadowCat was amazed at his own
cool. He was far less confident than he sounded. He knew the locals. Fickle bunch.

"And where in blazes is that kevrhon guy? At a time like this?"

"I told you, last I saw him he was talking to Amazon. Something about his mother."

"Some campaign ally he's proven to be."

"Now, now, I'm sure he's making last minute appeals to the female voters out there "

"There must be something we can do. Can't we use this time travel business to our
benefit?"

ShadowCat rolled his eyes at Johannes' back. He was getting tired of explaining the
inherent ideological contradictions of this notion.

***

BACK AT THE BOOTHS

"Mr. Borogove? Mr. Borogove? Just a minute of your time?"

The platypus shook his head and hurried on. Mrs. Borogove hadn't been very talkative
either.

Aquaman was still getting nowhere. Even hellgirl and gail had refused to answer his
questions. He was on the verge of making up some statistics from scratch. Heck, they'd
never know the difference. And he was a voter, wasn't he? He'd poll himself! OK, he'd
had some trouble negotiating the process with his hook, and the ink smudged and blurred
so he couldn't read all of the lines, but still

JYu came trotting by, out of breath. Now he was a nice guy. Strange name, but who
didn't, on J Street? Maybe he would cooperate. Aquaman watched him enter the voting
booths,
guarded carefully by a member of the Jonah Corps.

All he needed was a break. A last minute scoop. Then he'd show them all.
 Chapter Forty-Seven: Sweet Poll(y)!
by White Knight

White Knight had enjoyed seeing the members of the Pantheon get involved in political
affairs. He was not registered as a J Street voter but felt that the way things were was OK.

He avoided gail and hellgirl as they pummeled two bodybuilders outside of the voting
booths and he strolled inside. He saw Aquaman! tailing JYu inside the voting booth.

I guess they vote different here than they did in Clarrd he thought. As he stepped outside
of the building, he was almost mauled by a flock of platypii waving Hatman and Jasons
face on T-shirts and caps. They kept screaming

"Rock the poll,

Hatman wins all!"
and
"Vote today,
and for Borelli, Yay!"

Some time later, a figure headed towards the bar and saw Grendel cleaning the bar.

"OzBat is still campaigning?" he asked.

Grendel nodded.

"Yes, White Knight. Otherwise hed be cleaning this mess!"

"Have you voted yet?"

"No. I cant leave the bar unattended."

"Ill watch it for you. You can go and vote." Grendel eyed the knight suspiciously. And he
accepted. "All right. But no monkey business while Im gone."

"Cross my heart," replied White Knight.

Grendel took off his Bartenders do it on the bar apron and left.

White Knight then morphed to its true shape: Ozbat!

"Well, now that Grendels gone, I can take a few cases of beer for my victory celebration
party." He laughed heartily as he bamfed with 17 cases of Budweiser and a gallon of
Grendels Rotgut.

"No one will ever suspect."

 Chapter Forty-Eight: Acceptance
by Jason

The polls had been closed for an hour. The results would be in momentarily.

And Jason Borelli, reluctant candidate, was doing some heavy thinking in mid-air.

What the hell am I doing? I want to be a good guy. So why did I lash out at Stephen? I
should've been happy that he selected me as his successor.

That's it. If I win, I'm gonna take my office and like it. Besides, even with my outbrust, I
should win. These people vote for Gates, for God's sake!

"Help! Someone, help me!"

Jason flew down. A woman was trapped in traffic, as cars tried to run over her.

Simple task. Jason picked her up.

"Olga?"

"Hello Jason Borelli."

"What was THAT about?"

"All these fat men they hear I am a gypsy and try to run me over and get cursed."

"Oy."

"Are we going to Grendel's?"

"I was a-headin' that way myself. The election's over."

As they landed, Olga turned to Jason.

"Would you like to buy a flower for a special lady?"

"Sure."

He pulled out a dollar, got a bouquet then handed it back to Olga.

"How sweet!" She pecked him on the cheek.

Well, thought Jason. Let's see who won.

 Chapter Forty-Nine: And the winner is
by Joe Grendel

The real White Knight washed his hands and stepped out of the bathroom, just in time to
see OzBat changes shapes and begin ransacking the bar.

"I think you may be celebrating prematurely."

"D'oh!" OzBat sheepishly returned the bottle of Southern Comfort to the shelf.

"Let's go outside and hear the results."

Jason Borelli landed beside them as they stepped outside. He looked, pardon the
expression, a little green.

Aquaman, who had finally just speared his notepad on his hook, held pen poised over
page.

gail, hellgirl, Amazon and Regina came out of the Ben and Jerry's, and quieted down to
listen.

Hank, Hatman and mope stood together, waiting.

redRicky and Green Arrow, much to everyone's surprise, were there as well.

kevrhon, Shadowcat and Johannes, with their wives or significant others, surrounded by a
group of hardcore conservative platypii, waited impatiently. Abdul Aziz, speaking angrily
into the mouth of his genie bottle, stood on the steps of his shop.

The doorway of Grendel's Pond Bar and Grill across the street was empty.

The Jester, JYu, the Scarlet Rob and one of the Joe Gallaghers sat on the edge of the
fountain in the middle of Archimedes Circle, also waiting.

Ross Perot bamfed in, glaring at OzBat and the other candidates, but maintained an
unusual silence.

Other interested parties arrived, included cybernetically enhanced weiners, sentient

Venetian blinds and the ever-important pygmy marmoset blok.

A group of Minutemen wandered by, on the way to Minuteman Comics, but were too
engrossed in hypothetical mutant battles to pay any mind to the election.

It was difficult to pin down the moment that Jonah 1 appeared when he beamed down, or
whatever it was he did when he left his satellite. Those watching the spot where he
arrived later couldn't remember him bamfing in, yet he seemed to appear between blinks
of an eye.

He set down a heavy wooden box, and placed his foot atop it.

"I am pleased to see you all here." He surveyed the crowd with a bit of pride. "The
residents of J Street have formed a rough democracy and their first, somewhat
impromptu, election went relatively smoothly. But enough of such trivialities."

He unfolded a piece of paper.

"There were several write-in votes. Amazon received one."

The distaff portion of the Pantheon whispered in surprise.

"As did Mickey Mouse."

"I wasn't even running! I've got a corporation to worry about!" The mouse put his nose
back into The Wall Street Journal and continued to listen with one (rather large) ear.

"Hatman received two." The Capped Crusader bit his lip, emotions clearly warring on his
face. Hank laid one Mighty hand upon his friend's shoulder.

"Ross Perot received no votes." At this, the imp turned purple with rage and with an
angry snarl, bamfed back out.

"In third place, with 166 votes, were OzBat and Jeannie the Genie." OzBat, grinned
devilishly.

"In second place, with 413 votes," Jonah looked up from the paper, clearly considering
whether to draw this out "Was Johannes."

Shadowcat barked a word not approved by the Comics Code Authority. A moment later,
the crowd surged to life with exclamations.

"The new mayor of J Street," Jonah the Monitor yelled above the din, "Is JASON
BORELLI!"

Chapter Fifty: A New Day Dawns on J Street

by Joe Grendel

J Street.
The former Pantheon headquarters, then the Sun Dried Tomato Party headquarters, and
now the defacto mayor's office.
"Four hundred and sixteen votes," Jason whispered. "For me!"

"Yes," deputy mayor mope said, finger-combing his hair with one hand, while looking
out the window at the people (?) of J Street. "A narrow victory for the forces of, well, us."
He turned back from the window. "We're going to need to consolidate our gains. Show
the electorate that they were right to get behind us, and reach out to our political
opponents."

Mayor Jason Borelli twisted his Green Lantern ring nervously.

"I'm going to need an awful lot of help."

"You'll have it," mope said, "Don't worry about that."

***

Grendel's Pond Bar and Grill.

OzBat caught the mop in mid-air. The Mighty Hank! wasn't quite so quick and caught the
wet rag with his face. He pulled it off with a grimace and looked up at Joe.

"Let me guess " the Asgaardian began.

"That's right: I never gave you two time off for your little reindeer games. Either I dock
your pay or you two have this place spotless by opening tomorrow morning."

OzBat sighed and looked at Hank.

"Democracy. Almost more trouble than it's worth, ain't it?"

***

Johannes' townhouse.

The defeated candidate sat dejectedly in a high-backed chair, letting a cigar smolder
between his fingers and swirling a snifter of brandy.

"Oh, the indignity of it all "

To his left, Abdul Aziz was busy chain-smoking his way through his second pack of
Marlboro Reds of the hour.

"My business will the super-heroes ever trade with me again? And will Jeannie ever
speak to me?"

They both looked up at Shadowcat's snort.

"Pathetic, the two of you. This sort of loser mentality is what lost us this election and has
made J Street into the sinkhole of chaos that it is. Well," he said, grasping his badge, "I've
had enough. I quit!"

He pressed the badge into kevrhon's hand.

"I choose you to be my successor as the J Street I-cop. Impose a little order on the chaos
here, for the multiverse's sake."

"But, but," kevrhon stuttered, wondering if the keys to the black Humvee were part of the
perks of the job, "But why give up?"

"Because, I don't believe the residents are serious about wanting to keep chaos from
destroying the multiverse," Shadowcat said as he morphed into his secret identity, the
not-so mild-mannered Kevin Boyd, "And because everyone writes me as a complete
boob!"

***

Jason opened the window and powered up his ring.

"I'm going on patrol and let the people meet their new mayor." He soared out and into the
sky.

mope walked over to the window and leaned against the sill, smiling.

"It all worked out perfectly. A new day is about to dawn on J Street."

The End