Crisis on infinite earths pdf download

Worlds will live and worlds will die. Written and illustrated by a who's who of famous and prolific authors and artists, Crisis on Infinite Earths Companion Deluxe Vol. Annual 1 and New Teen Titans The original Teen Titans always stood in the shadows of their larger-than-life mentors — young heroes like Robin, Wonder Girl and Kid Flash saw plenty of action, but it was Batman, Wonder Woman and The Flash who ultimately called the shots. Catch up with the super adventures of Barry Allen, also known as the Flash, in the third book of this middle-grade series.

Featuring adventures not seen on TV, Barry continues his mission to protect Central City from sinister plots. The book builds upon the world of the popular TV show in a new medium by author Barry Lyga. Everything Barry Allen knows has changed in a flash. The course of history has been changed, and a new reality has replaced his own. Villains have become conquerors.

Heroes have become villains—or nothing at all. Humanity is on the brink of all-out destruction. And the Flash, powerless and friendless, has been brought to a standstill. But whether they succeed or fail, the world will never be the same!

Once, there were infinite Earths. Then there came a Crisis Worlds lived. Worlds died. But some worlds must now fight for their future-in the Convergence! The evil alien intelligence known as Brainiac has stolen 50 doomed cities from throughout time and space and sealed them behind impenetrable domes. Now, after a year, the domes will come down-and the heroes and villains of 50 dead worlds must battle to be the last one standing! Des mondes vont vivre Contient Justice League of America , , , Even the planet he had been standing on was gone.

He felt the familiar burning inside his stomach. It told him he was about to be brought to yet another world in yet another universe. And when he got there, he would be forced to watch it die, too.

He cried out, "Why me? As always. Six E ven when I tried, the speed force wouldn't let me stop running. I wanted to slow down, but instead I found myself racing even faster. Strangely, as much as I knew that should have bothered me, it didn't. I felt at ease here, eerily calm. Yes, I knew there was an urgency that demanded my attention. I was, after all, supposed to save the world.

But I felt strangely at home in this place of speed. I didn't want to leave. Instead, I wanted to find the other speedsters, whoever they were. I wondered if they shared the same problems and concerns I once had? Were they as impatient with everything as I used to be? Did the world move slowly for them, too? People took forever to think. One word conversations seemingly dragged on for months. C'mon, man, move it.

Spit it out. Say it already! For someone who had once been the slowest man on Earth, after I became the Flash I had to learn, of all things, patience. Listen to them. It's not their fault they 're slow. I could live a whole life before they finished drinking a soda.

I could be in Central City one moment and in Paris the next. I could eat a full banquet in an instant and metabolize it just as quickly. Actually, I had to constantly eat. I burned food so fast it was the only way to keep my energy levels constant. Learning to think slow, to walk instead of run, even re-learning how to breathe, seemed to take me forever. I had to decrease my heart rate. I had to learn how long it took to lift a cup off a table. How much time to take a shower? How many breaths do 28 Marv Wolfman I draw in a minute?

Do I run a mile in a blink of an eye, or do I let it take longer? I had to re-learn everything I once took for granted. Slow down my vision so people appeared to walk normally.

Slow down my hearing so instead of that annoying Doppler-induced buzz I could actually understand what they were saying. My hardest lesson? Enjoy the process, not the results. It wasn't easy. But here, wherever here was, there were others who had gone through it all before me. I wanted to speak to them. Something kept nagging at me. The outside world. The real world. There was danger there, wasn't there? Oh, right, I remember now. Something about the end of the universe.

But it was so peaceful here. I belonged here. I could die here. Then— Iris. Beautiful Iris. Waving goodbye. That sweet smile. A much too quick kiss, "See you soon," she said, although she never would. Was she still alive? Did the Earth still exist? Was the future still changeable? The speed force was drawing me into it and didn't want to let me go. This was to be my final home, but I knew I couldn't let myself rest.

Not yet. Yes, I can accept that I had already died, although, by the paradoxes of time, my death had not yet occurred.

Yes, my world was destroyed, but that hadn't yet happened, either. The future and the past were all the same here, and the longer I stayed, perhaps the happier I'd be. But then everything else would be destroyed.

Everyone I knew and cared about would be dead. Actually, it would be worse. They never would have been. I had to go home. Seven T ime wrapped itself around me like an all-embracing blanket.

I saw a young Cro-Magnon caveman try to disperse mastodons about to trample his small village. Then the mastodons disappeared. I saw Superman shouting in pain again.

What in the universe happened to him? I saw myself die again. This time I didn't bother to linger. There was Supergirl hovering beside a rooftop next to Batgirl, precariously perched on a gargoyle. They were looking over the city, talking and laughing and I found myself smiling.

They were good people and I loved talking to both of them. Kara, Supergirl's Kryptonian name, loved movies more than Iris and almost as much as me. We'd argue for hours in the JLA cafeteria, me drinking my tenth coffee— like I needed to be more wired—and she sipping from that bottle of water always stuck in her hand. What was the best Hitchcock or Spielberg film? Me: Psycho and Raiders.

Her: North by Northwest and ET. Kara came to Earth as a teenager. To her, movies were a way of catching up with a world she didn't know, and she embraced every frame she watched, good and bad. She even liked Ed Wood films. She accepted they were awful but she loved their unintentional humor.

She was so young, but Supergirl worked harder, was always optimistic and probably more dedicated to our cause than almost anyone I knew, including her cousin, Superman. Batgirl was not related to Batman, and though she shared his crimefighting techniques.

When she took off that costume and became Barbara 30 Marv Wolfman Gordon again, she also became alive and funny and somebody Iris and I loved being with as often as we could. Barbara was a librarian and researcher and Iris would call her at the weirdest hours to track down information for whatever story she was currently writing.

But I worried about her. She craved Batman's approval and, knowing him, I was certain he didn't parcel that out liberally. I saw the Justice League of America fighting those demonic shadows. A long time ago I was one of them and I wished I was with them now. Then I realized, the crisis the voices spoke about—it had come to my Earth. I saw the young Cro-Magnon again, standing by a marsh, spear in hand.

He'd been hunting for game. Three Neanderthals made their way to his side. Had the two species actually overlapped in time? I cursed myself for not remembering my prehistory. Suddenly, the Cro-Magnon looked up beyond the marsh. His eyes widened as he saw something in the mist that frightened him. Whatever it was disappeared by the time I looked up. He rubbed his eyes, dismissing the thought, then held up his spear to the others and grunted unintelligible sounds that probably meant, The village needs food.

Let's hunt. Suddenly, the marsh was gone and I was elsewhere. I saw Batgirl again, but this time she was crying. What happened? Eight I was on a spaceship of some sort. It was a satellite and I was in a small laboratory. The boy I saw before, half flesh, half anti-matter—how did I know that?

I was looking at a three year old. Had that much time passed? A woman flew into the room. She was human, blonde, very pretty and dressed in skintight blue armor. I'd seen her before. She examined the boy, not pleased with whatever she saw. Another figure entered. He was male, humanoid but not human.

Almost bald, his hair was shaped into a widow's peak of cornrow strands that lay flat across his forehead. He wore a white tunic over blue armor. He talked to the woman. They smiled, even laughed. Then the laughing stopped. The happy look in her eyes abruptly changed. I can't help myself," she said. He nodded as if there was no alternative.

You know that. He doesn't like that name. He calls me Harbinger. Please, Monitor, stop me from hurting you. Why can't you understand my name is Harbinger? Listen to me. I want you to forgive yourself. That's for you to remember Do what you have to. Her breathing became labored and her chest heaved. I know you can stop me, so why won't you? If I knew what was coming, why didn't he? I ran at them, intending to push them apart, but instead I raced through both images.

I was still in the speed force while they were in the real world. I yelled at him, "Run, you idiot. She's going to kill you. The look in his eyes seemed to say, "It's for the best. With a terrible scream she unleashed a blaze of golden fire. He looked up, whispered some words to no one I could see, and then he was dead. Lyla or Harbinger, fell to her knees and cried.

There was a flash of light, and I was back in time, but just two minutes ago. The Monitor was in the room. She entered. They talked. And she killed him again. It happened three more times, as if I was watching a constant loop of a slow-motion replay. Was this some pivotal moment I was being shown until I understood it? Who was the Monitor? Who was Lyla? Who made her kill him? I watched him die a sixth time. As he fell at my feet, I instinctively reached to help.

I was still in the speed force, watching the outside world. Was he already dead? Was this the past or the future? How do I find you? How do I save you? And then everything went black. Nine I barely heard the voices and couldn't tell where they came from.

It's not a problem. It was the killer's voice. I was still in the Monitor's ship—that was his name, wasn't it? Metal walls surrounded me; there was a floor under me. The lights here were dim and I heard the grinding noise of complaining engines below me. I was no longer in the speed force. I was on the Monitor's ship. His actual ship. But how did I get here? I remembered he died and I wanted to help. Then there was—blackness?

Just as suddenly, I was here. Did I somehow bring myself here by saying I wanted to be here? Had I controlled the speed force, making it take me where I needed to go? He was someplace near. I realized this had to be the past.

I'd seen the woman, Lyla, kill the Monitor. But I just heard him speak. He was still alive. That meant there was time to warn him about Lyla's future treachery. The ship was designed like a globe, approximately one-half mile in diameter. The interior walls were black metal, a steel alloy similar in look to our own, but slightly different: oilier, slicker, even warmer to the touch. Marv Wolfman I tapped the metal and it buckled slightly; the wall was paper thin. I tried to punch through it, but I was thrown back.

Thin but very solid, it probably weighed next to nothing. Our scientists would love to get a sample. If it was fireproof as well as unbreakable, I knew Ferris Aircraft would be making jet fighters out of this stuff as fast as they could get them off the assembly line. I ran past a dozen laboratories crowded with equipment and machines. Some looked like weapons, but the majority were so alien in design I couldn't identify them let alone use them. I had four University degrees but I felt like Homer Simpson during a meltdown.

There was one thing I did recognize: view screens were built into the walls and all of them were showing scenes from different worlds. I recognized Earth-2, Jay Garrick's Earth. The Monitor was observing not just one universe but the multiverse. Good reception, too. Cable or satellite? I looked around me. Definitely satellite.

On one screen I saw my own Earth and the sky was still blue. I'd been sent back in time to before the red skies, to before the shadow demons and the white wall of antimatter, to before my planet and my universe were destroyed.

I stared at the multiverse of worlds displayed on the view screens. Why was the Monitor watching them? I had seen Lyla kill him and I made the logical assumption she was a murderer and he was her victim. But what if I was wrong? Was he the killer and was she trying to stop him?

Good guys and bad. It was getting harder to sort out who was who. When I was a kid I played cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, good guys and bad. My friends liked playing the bad guys because they could shout as loud as they wanted and pretend to act tough. I preferred playing the good guy, even if the part at first appeared to be more boring. I was too young to realize then that assigned definitions were not always clear. Cops and robbers?

No problem. But cowboys and Indians? The movies always showed the Indians, tomahawks raised high, whoopin' and hollerin' as they attacked wagon trains and civilians. Clearly they were the bad guys. Only we knew now that wasn't necessarily the case. Crisis on Infinite Earths 35 The speed force voices inferred there was still time to save the multiverse.

If there wasn't, why did they bother saving me? If Lyla killed the Monitor, then his death should have saved my world. Evidence speaks for itself. That was the first thing I learned in the police academy. Emotion should have no role in determining guilt or innocence, good guys or bad.

There were fifteen levels on the satellite. I awoke on the ninth. Lyla and the Monitor were on the first. It took less than a second to find them. Sometimes it was good to be the fastest man, dead or alive. Ten L yla's eyes were blue, not red or black as I'd seen them before. And I saw them looking at the Monitor with respect, not hate.

The Harbinger I saw in the speed force acted as if she were anxious to kill him. This Lyla was very different. She was gentle. Her voice, softer.

But it was her eyes that separated the two of them—there was no hate anywhere in them. In fact, she looked at him as if she loved him. They didn't see me, even when I stood in front of them and waved my hands like an idiot to get their attention. That proved I was dead. But did it mean I was a ghost? Was I only able to watch the universe go to hell or could I do something about it? Sort out the evidence then figure out between the settler and the Indian, who was protecting whose home.

The question asked itself: Were there two Lylas, two Harbingers? Maybe not at first, but when you show them the evidence I go up to these super heroes and villains and say, 'Excuse me, the multiverse is coming to an end' Then I say, 'See this? Why should they? Well, maybe it was a bit more sophisticated than that, but not much. The Monitor waved his hands over a control panel. On the screen I saw a light on the fork turn itself on.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on her fingertips as if in prayer. She was nothing like the woman I'd seen in the speed force. But someone—who? For some reason I screamed again then hammered my fist against his chest. It fell through him without affect. I'd never felt so helpless. Lyla's body shimmered and suddenly there were two of her. A second later there were four, then eight, and finally sixteen seemingly perfect copies. She had the power to duplicate herself. There was more than one Lyla.

Which one was going to kill the Monitor? The Monitor studied the group. Bring me only the ones I asked for. I wanted to follow, but which one? As fast as I was I couldn't, like her, be in sixteen places at the same time. The Monitor turned in my direction. I knew he couldn't see me, but his eyes fixed on mine. Had to be a coincidence. Had to be. He started out the room then paused at the door and looked back as if indicating for me to follow.

What else did I have to do? Green Lantern—Earth—1 J on Stewart glanced at the glowing green ring on his finger and allowed himself a wide grin. It had been only six months since the Guardians turned the Power Ring over to him, after its previous owner—Hal Jordan—retired, and only three since he was asked to join the Justice League of America. He still felt giddy every time he flew above the clouds, birds soaring at his side, tilting their wings, catching the currents.

This was the life, he thought. He could fly like this forever. Unfortunately, he was usually, like today, on his way to stem one emergency or another. The ocean below him may have seemed endless, but Jon knew it would only be a matter of minutes before Australia rushed into view. So many of the so-called super heroes—he didn't think of himself as one, but he knew others did; it came with the uniform and the pledge to duty— always looked, well, angry, or, in Batman's case, cold and emotionless.

Look at all the incredible things we do. You gotta be enjoying this, man. You just gotta. He was relentlessly grim and consistently uncommunicative, even to the Justice Leaguers who should have been his friends.

If you got even a two word answer out of him—huzzah! Jon realized Batman was an irreplaceable member of their little adventurers clique, but that didn't mean he had to like the man. Wonder Woman was also an enigma. She was beyond beautiful, always warm and friendly, but Jon sensed an unbridgeable gulf between her and the rest of the League. She should be standing alongside giants, battling Crisis on Infinite Earths 39 great mythological beasts and monsters, not stopping crimes in Washington, D.

Hawkgirl was an alien from a world Jon never heard of, but he related to her better than he did Wonder Woman. Zatanna was a sorceress with unbelievable magical powers, but the two of them often went clubbing, dancing to 70s disco, emptying one cafe or another, all the while talking 'til dawn. But Wonder Woman. Jon was told she was an Amazon and that her mother once made love to the half-god Heracles.

Gods never walked the streets Jon Stewart grew up on. Jon believed of all of them, Superman understood. Superman was the first and probably the most powerful of them. He never seemed to get angry or lose his temper, but he wasn't the boring boy scout Batman accused him of being, either. Superman just believed in doing the right thing, as if the very possibility of there being any other option never crossed his mind.

He remembered the first time he met Superman was on a mission with the League. Some super-powered criminal was up to something evil, they always were.

But Superman saw a civilian in danger and took time away from battle to rescue him. The man kept thanking Superman. He pledged his life to him, probably would have given him his wife if asked, but Superman just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "I was given these special abilities.

Of course I use them to help. From anyone else that would sound preciously cloying, but not from Superman. Somehow it fit him.

Jon also noticed that Superman was also one of the few of them who never wore a mask. He never thought to hide who he was. Sydney had been decimated by tsunamis, freakish three hundred foot waves that crashed through anything that stood in their way.

Fort Denison, built to protect the city from invasion, its brick and stone crushed instantly to dust, fell into the sea first, churning up waves, swamping ferries and cargo boats that slowly chugged their way to the south shore. Like the coat hangar for which it was affectionately nicknamed, the Harbour Bridge easily buckled, its rounded spans collapsing at their hinges. The Circular Quay found itself buried under seventy feet of unseasonably icy water. The Opera House at Bennelong Point fell apart in seconds, its 40 Marv Wolfman great arches lost under the roiling foam.

A minute later, hundreds of exotic animals died as flood waters ravaged the Taronga Park Zoo. Jon concentrated. His will energized his power ring, giving its green light form and substance. The light reshaped itself into giant emerald walls which Jon rammed into the harbor bed as protective shields against the terrible waves. The ocean pummeled furiously against them, but they held firm. That would do the trick for the moment, Jon thought.

He turned to see the ocean was already crushing its way through the city. He flew over the harbor and made his way to the city center where waves were about to crush the Queen Victoria building, its hundred year old Byzantine construction hiding a very a modern mall. It was two in the afternoon, the stores crowded with shoppers taking advantage of mid-week specials, not realizing their lives were close to being snuffed out.

Jon closed his eyes, envisioning a massive curved tube like a water park slide. His power ring flashed its light, and formed a two-mile long tunnel which scooped up the waves and sent them crashing out to sea again. Jon knew his walls would protect Sydney from new waves while his network of laced tunnels would redirect most of the water already in the city back out again.

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