July 30th 1945
On the morning after the day of the Empire of Japan's surrender, Captain Angela Janowski, aka 'Liberty Belle', lay on the beach of a tiny island in the Pacific, hundreds of miles from another living soul. Her uniform lay on the sand beside her naked body as she soaked in the rays of the sun. Although she never tired physically, she was emotionally exhausted after ten months of nearly continuous combat duty, and she reveled in the tranquility of a deserted island in a world at peace, or near enough, for the first time in years.
Before flying across the ocean to this tiny spar of land, she had spent the night dancing in San Francisco, leaving dozens of exhausted soldiers, sailors and airmen in her wake. Everybody wanted to partner with Liberty Belle, but nobody could keep up with her for long. It had been a wonderful, exhilarating night; a release of joy after so much death and horror. As she danced, drank cocktails, and gently kissed (so as not to hurt them) more than one serviceman, she had let herself believe that her time as a soldier was over.
Angela knew that it was not. The tensions between the western allies and the Soviet Union had been ramping up for months, even before the surrender of Japan. Across the river Oder, in the east of conquered Germany, western troops faced the Russians on the other side in an uneasy standoff. The people of the world were tired of war, but it looked like another one was inevitable.
The Soviets were resentful of the fact that the western allies, spearheaded by Liberty Belle, had swept across western Germany and captured Berlin before Christmas 1944. Angela had helped them to capture the bridges across the Rhine in 'Operation Market Garden', she had relieved Eisenhower's supply problems by clearing the Germans out of the port of Antwerp, and she had ranged across the front like a human missile, tearing the heart out of any German resistance.
A desperate thrust by the Soviets in late November had pushed them across the last of German-occupied Poland and into a small sliver of eastern Germany, at a heavy cost in casualties, but the greatest prize had eluded them and the Western allies, emboldened by their pulchritudinous super-weapon, were in no mood to share.
Stalin was also furious that he had been denied a personal revenge against his nemesis, Adolf Hitler. Liberty Belle was known around the world as "The girl who had captured Hitler." During the pitched battle of Berlin, as Allied troops fought their way, street by street, towards the Reichstag, Angela had found and penetrated Hitler's secret bunker. The cream of the Nazi military, sworn to protect their Fuhrer, had found themselves helpless against the whirling dervish of Liberty Belle as she stormed through the underground complex, searching for the evil architect of the Nazi regime.
What few people apart from Angela knew was that she had stopped Hitler from shooting himself in the head. When she had torn open the reinforced steel door of his private office, she had found the frail, aged Hitler pointing a pistol into his open mouth. His mistress, Eva Braun, lay dead at his feet. Angela had paused for a moment before streaking towards him and pulling the gun away. She had been sorely tempted to let him pull the trigger; she had been tempted to snap his scrawny neck herself; but in the end she had decided to force him to face justice. The Allies would try him for war crimes and would almost certainly execute him, and maybe, during the course of his trial, the reality of the evil that he had unleashed upon the world would penetrate his warped brain. The twisted little man had screamed guttural insults at her while she had flown him to Allied Headquarters.
Following the end of the war in Europe, Angela had been promoted to Captain and transferred to the Pacific. The war against Japan had turned out to be a very different affair to the open battlegrounds of Europe. Where Angela had once soared across the plains of Germany, picking off heavy armor as she pleased, now she was assaulting islands that the Japanese had hollowed out with mazes of underground fortifications; fighting hand to hand in claustrophobic warrens of stone, against enemies who refused to surrender, no matter how hopeless the odds were stacked against them.
She had been first to hit the beaches at Iwo Jima and at Okinawa and at a dozen other island strongholds that she could not remember the name of. The great strategic thrusts and tactical wizardry of the European front were in short supply in the Pacific; the war here was just a meat grinder, and Liberty Belle was the Allies' sharpest blade. The famous photograph of her raising the stars and stripes over Iwo Jima, her hands stained with the blood of her enemies, had been seen around the world.
Angela had fought almost non-stop, never allowing herself to rest for fear that a moment's indolence would cost Allied lives. She had stormed beaches, she had cleared out bunkers and she had protected ships against desperate Kamikaze attacks, smashing Japanese aircraft apart by flying through them. All the time, adding more and more deaths to her personal tally. She had killed thousands upon thousands of enemy troops and she feared that her humanity had begun to buckle under the weight of all of that death. She knew that her efforts had saved the lives of countless American and Allied servicemen, but she struggled to maintain a sense of herself as a person and not just a weapon.
She was worried that her link to the rest of humanity was fading, as she began to take her incredible powers for granted. What made it even more worrying to Angela was the fact that her powers had increased since the accident at Los Alamos had created them. A year ago, she had been thrilled by the fact that she could fly at almost five times the speed of sound; a little faster than a V2 rocket. Now, she was frightened by the fact that she could fly from San Francisco to Hawaii in under ten minutes, moving at 20 times the speed of sound. It was hard to gauge, but she also felt stronger and tougher. Angela was worried about where this increase in power would lead; would she become so far removed from humanity that she lost the ability to interact with normal people at all?
Her final mission of the war had been undertaken with the other American superwoman, Lt. Patience Monaghan, a.k.a. Amber Waves. Amber Waves was a member of the Navy and had been mostly deployed in a defensive capacity. Although she could not fly as such, she could leap from the water like a flying fish, which allowed her to intercept kamikaze planes attempting to collide with American ships. When faced with a packed wave of oncoming planes, Amber Waves had learned to swim along the surface of the water at an angle, sending a powerful sheet of water into the air, knocking the incoming planes out of the sky.
This maneuver had given Angela a horrible idea on how to end the war quickly. Even with her at the forefront, the invasion of Okinawa had been a bloody affair for the Allies, with many casualties. The upcoming invasion of the home islands of Japan threatened to be even more costly in Allied lives. The only way of forcing the Japanese to surrender was to scare them with something bigger than a pair of unstoppable superwoman: a tsunami.
Angela had been hesitant to suggest the idea to her superiors, but she eventually came to see no other way of ending the slaughter. If she knew the exact location of the Japanese Emperor, or his government, then she could have kidnapped them and forced them to sign the articles of surrender, but the Japanese had considered this possibility and their leaders never stayed in the same place for long.
On July 25th, Amber Waves and Liberty Belle had rendezvoused two hundred miles west of the island of Kyushu. They hugged, held hands and began to swim back and forth under the surface of the East China Sea. As they swam, the water began to churn violently. The faster they swam, the more violent the churning became. The waves began to grow as the two young superwoman pumped more of their energy into the ocean.
The target of the tidal wave produced by the two young woman was the city of Nagasaki. A wall of water over a hundred feet high struck the city and kept going. There was more energy behind this tsunami than there would have been in a normal tidal wave and the first wave was followed by a dozen more. Before the end of the day, ten thousand people lay dead and the city of Nagasaki was virtually leveled.
Faced with the evidence of the true level of destruction that the superwomen could unleash on their homeland and threatened with a second tsunami attack on Tokyo, the Japanese had surrendered at once. Angela had breathed a sigh of relief that another demonstration of superwoman power would not be necessary.
Angela had immediately requested and been granted a month-long leave of absence. Her tireless efforts had not gone unnoticed and nobody begrudged her a few weeks of vacation. She looked forward to a month of relaxation and not having to worry about war, or the Soviet Union, or international intrigue, or anything...
August, 1945
Two weeks later, Angela sat at a wooden table in the kitchen of an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of Krakow, Poland. Across from her were four members of Polish political parties opposed to Soviet domination of Poland. She was supposed to be undercover, so she had flown in at night wearing a simple peasant outfit.
The request from the Polish government-in-exile to meet with Liberty Belle had been waiting for her when she had arrived at her parent's home in Brooklyn. It had been relayed through British intelligence and one of Angela's cousins. The British were seen as more sympathetic to the cause of Polish independence, since it was Churchill who had forced Stalin to make the promise of free elections in Poland; a promise that he was already in the process of reneging on.
The Poles had made the fourth largest contribution of manpower to the Allied war effort, after the Soviet Union, the United States and Britain, but the western Allies seemed prepared to sacrifice them in order to appease Stalin. Angela knew that it was unfair, especially when you considered how far Churchill and Truman were bending to treat the French as one of the victorious powers.
Janek Maslanka was explaining to Angela how the Soviets were pushing to dominate post-war Poland. "The provisional government is dominated by communists and they are already beginning to arrest members of the opposition on trumped up charges."
Angela held her hand up. "I understand and it makes me mad, but what do you want me to do? I'm a Captain in the United States Army. Anything I do could cause a war!"
"You could resign your commission," said Janek, "and become a Polish citizen."
Angela shook her head. "Nobody would believe that I wasn't following Truman's orders, least of all Stalin. And besides, I'm an American. Polish-American, for sure; but still an American."
Celina Slusarski, the only other woman in the room, joined the discussion. "We don't want you to attack the Russians, but if you could talk to Truman and ask him to take a tougher line with Stalin. He will listen to you. He has to!"
Angela knew that she could have used the fact that she was essential to the defense of the United States to her advantage, but she was used to following orders and uneasy with the idea of using her position to push her own agenda. It seemed reasonable enough to just talk to Truman, however.
She was still considering the matter when she noticed that something appeared to be wrong with the four Poles. Janek and Angela were both flushed and all four were coughing. Janek coughed up blood onto the table and looked at it in horror. Celina collapsed into her chair. The other two men began to vomit uncontrollably.
"What's happening?" screamed Angela, "What's wrong?"
Angela had her back to the kitchen door, which then swung open.
Angela spun around faster than the human eye could follow. A tall woman, with severely cropped black hair stood in the doorway. She wore a black bodysuit composed of a shiny, form-fitting material that Angela did not recognize. Only her head was left uncovered by the skintight material that accentuated every curve of her perfect body. Over her left breast, a sickle was emblazoned in red. Her eyes were completely black, lacking whites or irises.
"Who the hell are you?" asked Angela. The Polish politicians all lay still, their exposed skin burned red, blood oozing from every orifice. Their hair was beginning to shrivel and fall out. "What are you doing to them?"
The Russian woman posed with her hands on her hips, but said nothing. She locked her freakish eyes with Angela's and sneered.
Angela looked closer at the intimidating woman, who stood nearly a foot taller than her. Angela's eyes were more sensitive than those of a normal human, and capable of working across a wider range of frequencies.
"Oh my god," said Angela, "You're emitting more radiation than an atom bomb! You're poisoning everyone around you with radiation!"
The woman smiled. She moved her wrist as if she held an invisible sickle, cutting down the lives of the enemies of the Soviet Union. Then she pointed to herself.
"You're the sickle, I take it. However, it appears your powers have no effect on me," said Angela.
The woman in black moved her mouth as if she was laughing, but no sound came out. She held up her arm and flexed her muscles, indicating to Angela that the radiation she emitted was not her only superpower.
"You're strong?" asked Angela, rhetorically. "I bet I'm stronger."
The Russian mute dashed forward and swung at Angela. She struck the young woman in the chin and sent her flying through the back wall of the kitchen. For the first time since her accident, Angela felt pain. Sickle's powers definitely extended beyond her deadly radiation field.
Angela picked herself up. She quickly tore the peasant costume off, revealing her uniform beneath. The shorts and cropped jacket that she wore had survived the explosion that had transformed her into Liberty Belle and they were almost as indestructible as she was.
Sickle charged through the hole in the wall and swung her fists, but this time Angela was ready and she easily dodged the clumsy blow. As she sidestepped, she punched down at Sickle's back with a double-fisted blow, sending the Russian sprawling to the ground and cracking the earth beneath her. Sickle rolled to one side to avoid Angela's follow-up kick and sprang to her feet; she moved in close and viciously head-butted the young American woman. Angela stepped back, stunned.
Angela counter-attacked immediately with a roundhouse kick that sent Sickle flying. Angela was beginning to gain the measure of her enemy. The pain that Angela now felt indicated that Sickle was as strong, if not stronger, than her, but the Russian was not as fast and not as tough. It appeared that she was also not as well trained in hand-to-hand combat and not as familiar with her powers as Angela was. Sickle had obviously been rushed into service very quickly and was used to her enemies being overcome by radiation before she had to lay a hand on them.
Angela began to use her advantage in speed to gain the upper hand. She peppered Sickle with a rapid series of blows and dodged most of Sickle's counter-attacks, although enough of them penetrated Angela's defenses for her to know that she was in the fight of her life. Angela was expending more energy in this fight than she had in any other engagement during the war and her limbs were beginning to tire. She put everything she had into two final punches: a vicious uppercut snapped Sickle's head back and sent her flying up into the air; when the Russian superwoman came down, Angela landed a massive hay maker on her chest. Sickle collapsed onto the ground at Angela's feet, unmoving, and Angela breathed a sigh of relief.
The relief was short-lived, however. A slow clap came from somewhere behind Angela. She spun around and saw another beautiful Russian woman. The newcomer was floating a few feet in the air and she wore a dark green and red dress, a red hammer symbol was emblazoned over her left breast. Her hair was red and her eyes were green.
"Well done, Captain Janowski!" said the Russian. "My comrade-in-arms lasted for a far shorter time than my superiors anticipated. I told them that you would make short work of her, but they do not have as much respect for you as I do."
Angela spat on the ground in front of her. She had the unfamiliar feeling of being winded after the intense fight against Sickle. "You are 'Hammer' to her 'Sickle', I take it?" she asked, rhetorically.
"I am," said Hammer. "I am the Hammer that is going to smash you to pieces, my capitalist friend."
Angela sighed. This was turning out to be a very bad day. She launched herself towards Hammer to land the first blow, but before she could reach the young Russian, she was hit by twin beams of red light projected from the woman's eyes. Her skin burned with pain where the beams had struck her and she screamed and fell to the ground.
Hammer put her hands on her hips and laughed. "My powers go far beyond yours, weakling!" she said.
Hammer fired her eye beams at Angela again, but Angela had already rolled out of the way. Angela attacked again, but less directly; she swooped high up into the air and then down onto Hammer's head with her outstretched fists. The Russian superwoman staggered at the blow, but soon regained her composure; quicker than Angela could react, Hammer punched her in the face. The shock of the punch was incredible - Hammer was clearly far stronger than Angela was - and Angela slumped to the ground. Hammer followed up with a kick to the jaw that sent Angela sprawling over the ground.
Angela was tired and beaten down. She had used too much of her strength in the fight against Sickle and Hammer was stronger than she was. She tried to pick herself up to continue the fight, but her head was fuzzy and her limbs were weak; she tried to fly away, but she did not have the energy. Through half-closed eyes, she could see the Russian superwoman advancing on her with a sneer on her face. Hammer's eyes began to glow red, the precursor to another shot from her horrible eye beams. Angela could see no way out as she desperately tried to summon the energy to dodge the attack.
Suddenly, a streak of blue appeared out of nowhere to strike Hammer and send the Russian flying. Strong hands picked Angela up and before she realized what was happening, she was being carried through the air, away from the scene of battle.
"What? Who?" asked Angela.
Through blurry eyes, Angela saw that the person carrying her was a young, stunningly attractive blonde woman wearing a short blue skirt and a blue jacket. They soared through the air at speeds faster than any that Angela had flown before.
"Skylark, at your service!" said the young woman, in a crisp, British accent.
"The British are coming," mumbled Angela, as she allowed herself to slip into unconsciousness.
Captain Angela Janowski's meeting with President Harry Truman was bad-tempered and fractious. The entire chain of command was furious with Angela for having flown off to Poland without telling anybody. They were also terrified at how close they had come to losing their most powerful superwoman.
Angela was in no mood to be brow-beaten, however. She knew that she had screwed up and that it had only been the intervention of the British superwoman, Skylark, that had saved her; but on the other hand, she had killed Sickle and gained valuable intelligence about the abilities of Hammer.
"The Russians are clearly ahead of us if they've managed to create two superwomen already," said Truman.
Angela nodded. "I think they're cutting corners. Exposing their subjects to dangerous substances in order to recreate the conditions that gave me my powers. There are probably a hundred dead women for every one that they manage to give superpowers to. Sickle was completely unhinged and I don't think Hammer is too far behind."
Truman snorted. "Nonetheless, it appears that she was more than a match for you," he said.
"She took me by surprise. I think I can hold my own in a rematch," said Angela.
"We have to accelerate our superwoman project," said Truman. "You are to put yourself at the disposal of our scientists so that they can study you more closely. For god's sake, even the Brits are ahead of us, it appears."
Part of Angela was uncomfortable with being ordered around so casually, even if it was by her commander-in-chief. "I will help the superwoman project to the best of my abilities," she said. "On one condition."
"Excuse me?" said Truman, astounded. He was not used to being talked back to by young women.
"I want veto over any candidate being considered for the superwoman project," said Angela. "I want to be sure that any woman we give powers to is capable of wielding them wisely. I don't want us creating any Hammer or Sickles."
"That is unacceptable," said Truman. "I won't have you creating your own personal army."
"That's not what I want," said Angela. "I am essential to the defense of this country and I won't have you turning young women into weapons and I won't take the risk of you giving superpowers to somebody who is mentally unstable."
Truman considered the matter. It was outrageous that this young woman thought that she could dictate terms to one of the leaders of the free world, but these were outrageous times. It was true that he needed her, at least for the moment.
"Fifty-fifty," he said. "You will select half of the candidates for the superwoman project and I will select the other half."
"Agreed," said Angela. "What will the chain of command be for superwomen?" she asked.
"We are keeping you under the auspices of the Army, except for 'Amber Waves' who will be grandfathered into the Navy," said the President. "Once we have enough superwomen to make it worthwhile, then we will establish the 1st Superwoman Brigade."
"With all due respect," said Angela, "I think that's a mistake. The regular military don't know how to use superwomen to the best of their ability. You should establish a separate branch of the armed services."
"Not going to happen," said Truman. "The Joint Chiefs are already nervous enough about you, the idea of a Corps of Superwomen would give them heart attacks."
"Then I need to be in command of that Brigade," said Angela.
"Fine," said Truman, tiring of the conversation. Arguing with a woman who had the power to level Washington D.C. with her bare hands was taking a toll on his nerves. "Colonel Janowski, you are commanding officer of the U.S. Army 1st Superwomen Brigade. Current roster: you. Now get out of my office and get back to work."
Angela saluted, crisply. "Yes, Mr. President." She left.
The newly-promoted Colonel Angela Janowski found that she was shaking with nerves after her meeting with the President. She had definitely overstepped her bounds during the meeting, but now was not the time to be timid. A new war was brewing, one that would not be fought by soldiers, sailors and airmen, but one that would be fought by superwomen and atomic bombs. The United States and its allies needed to win this war, because the alternative was too frightening; she had looked into the eyes of the woman called 'Hammer' and she had seen bottomless ambition, cruelty and a hint of madness in them.
Angela had to find a way to balance the need for new superwomen with taking care that they did not create any power-mad monsters of their own. There were other things to worry about as well. How had the Russians found out about her meeting with the Poles? How far along were the British in their research? Everybody would be trying to create a superwoman of their own; how many would there eventually be?
She cursed the fact that she would have to shoulder the responsibilities of being 'Liberty Belle' for some time to come.