JLA Watchtower (Archive)

This holiday season, there is no phony distress call, no false alarm of an impending alien invasion. In fact, the invitations had been sent out weeks ago to as many individuals as the Watchtower's party planning committee could think of - with some help from the Justice League's computerized roster, of course. Small cards requesting RSVPs had been distributed to members of the League, the Justice Society, the Titans East and West, as well as other, smaller teams and unaffiliated heroes.

The moonbase's commissary has been transformed by Ma Hunkel and her contingent of culinary assistants - experts and neophytes alike - into a veritable assembly line producing mind-boggling quantities of food, the aroma of the feast filling the corridors of the Watchtower, drifting as far away as the teleporter room. Apart from the mouth-watering smells, tasteful holiday decorations throughout the moonbase provide an even more festive atmosphere, and although the League has always been a rather inclusive group, there is no doubting the influence of the modern American conceptualization of Christmas, as evinced by the impressively lit Christmas tree in the main assembly hall, not to mention the various poinsettias, wreathes, and garlands.

It would seem, however, that someone put the kibosh on the ill-conceived notion of piping in Christmas music, and, thus, the Watchtower does not exactly capture the feeling of a mall department store in full holiday sale swing.

There will be food and drink enough for all - all manner of entrees, sides, and a bounty of cookies and desserts, not to mention egg nog, hot toddies, and other adult holiday beverages - and good company, perhaps some gift-giving and even a kiss or two under a sprig of mistletoe.

As the heroes gather, the mood will be light and easy, but, perhaps one of the more veteran of Earth's champions will utter a few words to reflect on not only the season, but also the trials, tribulations, and successes of the last year.

Another war band, this one in New York, New York. The replicant army spreads loose throughout, as Lobo commands this rabble of part-automated maniacs. A group heads for the Empire State Building. Another goes for the Rockefeller Center.

One of the replicants, a copy of Huntress, stands on a destroyed plinth in the middle of Central Park, howling at the moon. There's no reason behind it except to cause terror. People run, and people hide, and are soon found by more and more replicants that proceed to attack and brutalise.

The honour-guard, the replicants Brainiac assigned especially to stay close to Lobo, await his command as their brethren go about tearing New York City apart.

"I don't care who put it there!" snaps Alfredo Hall, jabbing an angry finger at the tall twisted sculpture near the Shaw Lowell Memorial Fountain. "It's all wrong. It's positively banal. It's ruining this show! I want it out of here!"

The construction worker is losing his patience. "Look, mac, I don't give a rat's naked tuchus what you want. I got a work order right here--" He waves the pink copy in Hall's face. "--telling me an' my boys to put that thing up, and nobody's gonna take it down without another work order!"

"Fine! I'll do it myself!"

"You try that and I'll have the union on your--" He catches sight of the zombies moving in. "Hooooly shit. What kinda crazy show you putting on here? Didn't you know Halloween was last week?"

Alfredo Hall turns and looks. "No! Oh, god, what else could go wrong today? I swear this show is cursed!"