Standing in front of the building I thought about everything happened before. Talking with my mother, meeting Becky, and the illness. It burned me up that I couldn’t tell much more at the moment. That would require a little more on my end, but before I could act there I had to…there were two places that I needed to go to first. I took a cab several blocks away walked the rest of the way. Not something that you usually wanted to do at this time of night in Gotham, but there was little for me to worry about.
Anyone that came towards me with ill intent would feel a certain sense of foreboding the closer they got. The closer the came the more they would start to feel as if their lives were in danger, it was enough of a deterrent that it would send them in the opposite direction. It was a simple enough spell. It increased one’s sense of dread.
I didn’t want any trouble. Not right now as I stood in of building that held a special significance. It was a simple of enough building. Walking towards the entrance tipping my head to the side I looked at how it appeared. One would think it was slated to come down, but it wasn’t. It wouldn’t.
Removing a key from my pocket I stepped around to the back unlocking the door that appeared to be boarded up followed by another. Stepping inside I looked around flipping on a switch that immediately revealed the immaculate hall inside.
There was nothing particularly special about the hall, except that it looked like something out of a classic movie. Lights that hung from the ceiling one fixture after another, a floor with tile that formed a checker board pattern. The only thing that was remarkable was how clean the hall was.
Walking down the hall I slipped the key back into my pocket walking towards the elevator I was told that it was still in working order. It was well maintained, serviced as needed. The halls and everything was cleaned at least once a week.
Reaching the elevator, I removed the key from my pocket again. This was different perhaps newish. Slipping the key into the key hole I turned it watching as the doors slide open. Stepping inside I looked around and presse the button that I had been instructed to.
Pressing the button, the elevator took me in the approach direction opening open to another immaculate hall. Slipping the key into my pocket I traveled down the hall glancing around at the doors that had no name but appeared to be offices. Upon reaching the end of the hall I reached for the door knob and gave it a turn. It opened to an outer office where a secretary would sit.
None was there, but a typewriter was hidden beneath a typewriter cover. There was a steno pad, a phone and a few other office items. It appeared like someone could come right in and start typing. Running my fingers along the file cabinets then the desk I walked towards the second door. Reaching out for the door knob I gave it a turn pushing the door open. Instead of striding forward I hung back giving myself a moment. Wetting my lips, I walked inside shutting the door behind me.
When I told Becky that I had a place I wasn’t lying. I wasn’t trying to avoid going to her crypt. I had a place I could go. This wasn’t it, but it was close to it in a sense. Stepping towards the desk I looked down at the nameplate that was on the desk. Reaching for it I ran my fingers along the letters of the name upon it.
“Smythe.” The desk like the one outside was made of wood and had a type writer off to the side. There was Dictaphone nearby along with a few smaller file cabinets. There was a couch that looked like it had been slept on many a night or days. There were also two phones, one on the desk and one off to the side.
Then there was the wall. The wall that held a map of the world, and it wasn’t current. The configuration of some countries was different and there were lines upon it in certain places. Upon the adjacent wall there was a picture of the president, not Luthor, but an older one, Roosevelt.
It stood there alone overlooking everything in the office, but it was on the opposite wall that I found what I was looking for. There was a picture of Smythe with two people one was dressed in mask and a cape. The second man had a helmet on with wings.
“Hermes’ Helmet.” On the picture was a small metal label. “Smythe and the Mystery Men.”
Walking towards the desk I set my satchel down upon it and took a seat. Reaching inside I pulled from it a leather-bound book, a journal opening it to the place where I left off at. Looking at the blank pages I whispered a few words watching as the words revealed themselves to me.
My father told me that there was one just like this for my mother. However, she only read parts of it. Her father was there for her to tell her the history, about the past and about our legacy. She told me what she could, but she told me that there was more, that there would come a time where she would share more. That she would give me the book that her father wanted me to have.
She asked him to write it so I would have something of his, something that was meant for me. Something that had his voice, his essence. It’s not that she knew that would never meet at least not in this life, it was more like she wanted me to know him the way she knew him. She could tell me things, but there were things that only he could share with me.
This was one of them. She told me, but she said it was best if I heard it from him. I knew this could be a possibility, but how often was I going to be in Gotham? With everything going on I knew that I needed to take a moment and see it for myself.
There was another picture on the wall I glimpsed it, but perhaps it was best if I read what my grandfather had to say before I studied the picture.
I knew enough to know that this is where it began. “Mystery Men. Metahumans before people knew what metahumans were. Those two men were old friends, friends of my great-grandfather. They knew my father well, knew my great-grandfather even more. It was here that the Justice Society of America was born. Summoned by an agent of President Roosevelt to enter the war on America’s behalf in secret.
To help put an end to a threat before it could begin to talk hold. This was the beginning of the first age of superheroes. It began with two heroes and grew to three and moved on from there until the Justice Society was officially sanctioned. It began here in Gotham City of all places.
Looking down at the at the pages in front of me I find my place again after the map.
Never become trapped in the past, but you should know it. Learn from it. Understand what it means. That is what he said before, but before I got much further he told me that for me to understand for the words to have meaning that I needed to come here, see this place and know the story.
That I am the child of Farrah Nassour. Farrah Nassour is daughter of Kent Nelson Jr. Kent Nelson is son of Kent Nelson. Kent Nelson is the son of Sven Nelson. Together we are the House of Masir, the House of Fate.