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[indent][center][b]Justice Society of America Headquarters
[sub]Opal City, United States — New Years Eve, 1967[/sub][/b][/center]

[color=A32111]“You’re getting old, Ted.”[/color]

Ted Knight frowned as he looked at the portrait on the wall.

He was younger, well-painted. Battle-worn. It was now 1968 and the only thing he could feel was the aching in his bones. Some days he could barely hold onto the Cosmic Staff. It was getting harder to fight crime. Harder in general. The last thirty years felt like a hundred. He wasn’t sure how Wesley could keep going. He knew Diana was part-god or whatever the story was. Clark was an alien. Ted was just a man with a lot of money and a knack for building things, but he couldn’t build anything to stop father time. Nobody could.

[color=A32111]“You need to quit.”[/color]

He was fifty-six years old next week. It was becoming hard, even considering the fact that he had stayed vigilant since his very first outing as a hero. He was a public icon.

When people thought of “superhero” he was one of the go-to names. And with how the JSA had miraculously fucked up the whole ‘protecting America’ thing in the last decade he wasn’t sure he deserved the praise or the recognition. Tomorrow was the first day of [b]1968[/b] and things were only getting worse. His lobbyists in Washington weren’t being effective at putting a stop to Vietnam, Senator Kelly was stoking division with his push for metahuman accountability, and street crime had hit an all-time high. No invention or fame he had created could push back against it. It bothered him. With all the power and prestige in the world he still couldn’t fix the world. Someone new needed to run the JSA and get Washington to change their minds. His time was coming to an end.

Hopefully, there would be something to be optimistic for as he looked to pass the torch.

The crackle of fireworks over the Maryland skies made him faintly smile, though he knew there was more work to be done. The JSA annual celebration was ongoing in the main hall, he could hear the chattering. It wasn’t often all of them got in the old building all at once. Only when the Injustice Society or another group were threatening the world did they often head into the only war room and figure out a plan. Usually Mr. Terrific had something laid out. On a few occasions Diana. They were the strategists. It was nice when they were together when it wasn’t to stop a world-threatening event.

He was going to miss it.






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