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Wonder Woman #77: Riders

<< | < | [>]

Author: Predaplant

Books: Wonder Woman

Arc: Season 3: Darkness

Set: 95

Chloe and Diana stared at a map, a map of a path that cut a swathe across the continent of North America.

“Do you truly think this is likely?” Diana asked her wife.

Chloe nodded. “It certainly seems so. They’re going to have more power, so that’s when it makes sense to strike. In any case, we have to be ready; even if they don’t attack, we can’t afford to become complacent.”

“Of course,” Diana replied. “But how can we stop an attack by an entire pantheon?”

“We need to pull together everybody we’ve got. The gods, the Justice League… we can ask the Titans… anybody who can stand up against them.”

“What do you think they’re going to do?” Diana asked. “You know this country better than I. Are there any weak points along this line?”

“Dallas, maybe?” Chloe suggested. “It’s a really long line, and they could attack at any point. We’re going to have to be careful as we move.”

Diana nodded slowly. “I’ll start drafting up plans.”

WWWWW

“Not often we know an attack’s coming before it does,” Cassie said, raising an eyebrow. She was sitting opposite Diana in the Gateway City Hall of Justice backroom, the one where she normally met with her friends for planning out their group. “Feels very un-superhero of us.”

“It’s a bit unconventional, I admit,” Diana smiled. She shifted in her chair a bit. These chairs were uncomfortable, Cassie knew that well, but she didn’t want to ask for better. They got the job done. “But hopefully it gives us an advantage.”

“Well, they’re attacking because of the eclipse and its magical energies, right?” Cassie asked.

Diana nodded.

“Then that’ll be a disadvantage for us. Maybe it won’t be as far in our direction as we’d like,” Cassie continued.

“It’s going to be difficult, I won’t deny that,” Diana said, standing up. She must have gotten tired of the chair, Cassie figured. “But we have a much lower chance of winning without all hands on deck.”

“I’ll be there,” Cassie told her. “Even if it kills me, I’ll put up the best fight I can.”

“Now, let’s hope it doesn’t kill you,” Diana replied with a small smile. “There’s still so much more to live for, after all, and I’m sure you’ll be able to see all of it.”

“But it could kill me,” Cassie said flatly.

“It could,” Diana agreed. “It’s hard to really know how dangerous it will be. It could be simple for us to deal with, or it could be the next Markovia. However, you’re tough. You’ve been through so much, and I think it is unlikely that you will meet your final end at this rest.”

Cassie took it in. She shifted in her chair a bit. “I just... I know some of my friends might want to help. And if it’s dangerous for me...”

“It’s none of their responsibility,” Diana said. “We’ve discussed this already.”

“Yeah, I know,” Cassie sighed. “And it’d be dangerous for them, and they might die, but if they want to fight we’ll have them, I know. It’s all pretty obvious stuff. I just think it’s going to be a difficult conversation to have with them.”

Diana moved over to stand next to Cassie. “I have faith in you to manage it. You’re a great leader, and I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Cassie said as she looked up at Diana. “But I just... it’d be hard to keep them out of it. And harder for them to walk into the unknown. Especially after what happened in Chicago.”

“Walking into the unknown is what we’re all about,” Diana replied. “No need to begrudge them for doing what the rest of us are doing as well.”

“Maybe they’re not meant to be us?” Cassie asked. “Where do we draw the line, I guess?”

Diana smiled widely. “You’re a wise young woman, you know that?”

Cassie grinned sheepishly.

“I think it falls on every person to make that choice,” Diana continued. “As long as they’re informed, and they are not unnecessarily foolhardy, that is. For it puts them in danger, that is true, but it would be much worse if these gods were to succeed in their plan.”

“I don’t think you’ve made it clear what their plan would be,” Cassie noted. “What are they even going to do? Just attack people?”

“We’re not entirely sure,” Diana replied. “There are a lot of approaches they could take on the date itself. This is the unfortunate part about how the eclipse amplifies their power; it could take a myriad of different forms. As we’ve seen, they have a myriad of ways to achieve their goals, and I’m not entirely sure all their goals align, either. In sum, if they do appear, we have to be incredibly wary. You’ll have to be on your guard.”

Diana reached her arm out and touched Cassie’s. Cassie looked up at Diana. “Yeah, of course.”

“Cassie… I’d like to ask you to command a team, if you would.”

Cassie tilted her head. “I… it’d be hard. If my friends come, then I could lead them. But I don’t think… I’m scared, Diana.” She gripped Diana’s hand.

Diana looked at Cassie with compassion. “I understand your fear. It’s never easy, to lead. But we need to help protect those around us. We need to be able to stand tall, to be resolute, to adapt to our opponents’ ways… and I think you can do all of that.”

“Is it alright if I sleep on it?” Cassie asked, standing up abruptly. “I think I just need some time.”

“Of course,” Diana said, and Cassie fled from the room, throwing on the light coat she had draped over her chair as she did so.

Diana watched after her as she left. Pursing her lips, she raised an ear to her communicator. “Chloe? She seemed unsure. Nervous.”

Chloe’s voice chirped back over the communicator. “There’s a lot of weight on her shoulders. Let her be a bit unsure. Knowing Cassie, she’ll come back around before the day of the eclipse.”

WWWWW

Kiran took a deep breath. “Another big fight? Okay. Okay! Yeah, I think I can do this.”

“You sure?” Cassie raised an eyebrow. It was a few days later, before a group meeting. Cassie had come to terms with the upcoming fight, at least to some degree. She’d accepted that she’d needed to recruit her friends… at least, the ones she trusted. After all, it wouldn’t really make sense for her to lead the Titans into battle. But her friends, she could manage. And Cassie had made a short list of a few who might be interested. Now was the tricky part: actually recruiting them.

“Mhm!” Kiran nodded. “I mean, you know light isn’t really useful in most fights... but you said this is during the eclipse, right? Maybe light will be what we need! It might be their weakness.”

“That’s what I was thinking, too.” Cassie confirmed. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll pull you out of there, but I think it’s definitely worth a shot. We don’t know a lot of what we’re facing, so it’s good to have whatever tools we can at our disposal.”

“Alright!” Kiran grinned at Cassie. “Let me know anything else you need from me! I’m gonna get back to work now!”

Cassie watched Kiran head off to continue preparing for the day’s meeting. Lorena approached Cassie, chuckling. “Looks like somebody’s happy.”

“More just filled with adrenaline, I think,” Cassie said with a small chuckle. “Asked her if she wanted to help out in a big fight in a couple weeks.”

“Oh…” Lorena said. “I hope you all make it out alright.”

“Me too…” Cassie murmured. From across the room she saw Tora enter. There was somebody else she wanted to ask.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Cassie told Lorena, walking across the room towards Tora. “Tora! Can we talk?”

Tora looked towards her quizzically. She had been putting a lot of effort into practicing with her powers since getting out of the hospital, and when her broken bones healed, she had put that same energy into learning to fight. Now she was easily one of the most capable fighters in the group… and Cassie knew that she had a vendetta against the Dark Gods.

“Is something the matter?” she asked Cassie.

“Not necessarily. Well, kind of,” Cassie said, gesturing Tora over to the side away from the door. Tora took a few steps towards her. “We’re thinking the Dark Gods might attack during the upcoming eclipse, and we were wondering if you might want to help us fight it?”

Tora’s face turned grim. She gave a curt nod. “I will be there.”

“Okay, great!” Cassie clapped her hands together. “I’ll be glad to have you.”

Tora gave her a soft smile and turned away, making her way further towards the group.

“The Dark Gods?”

Cassie turned to face the voice. It was Peony, a determined look on her face. Cassie’s heart sank.

“We’re not bringing you,” Cassie told her. “And that’s final. This is going to be a real battle, and I don’t want to make you a child soldier.”

Peony sighed. “I understand. I just… I want to fight back, after everything with Urzkartaga… it’s really scary. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Cassie looked Peony over. She looked so worried… Cassie sighed. “Alright. How about this? If there are fights, can you try and use your plants to clear a perimeter and keep people out of the way?”

“Alright!” Peony responded, clearly relieved.

“But!” Cassie said, raising a finger. “You gotta stay out of the action, and out of sight. If you see things going bad, you run. Alright?”

Peony nodded.

“Alright,” Cassie smiled. She turned away and walked back towards Lorena, slowly exhaling as she did so.

Cassie could trust Peony to look after herself, but it really scared her to think of putting her into the line of fire nevertheless. Hopefully Peony really would manage to stay safe throughout the fight.

“You sure you’re gonna be able to manage?” Lorena asked her.

“I think so,” Cassie sighed. “Watchtower’s going to be co-ordinating things, and we’ll have the Justice League at our back. If we could all handle Markovia, I’m sure we can handle this, it’s just going to be a lot.”

“Just… stay safe, alright? You, and all of them.”

“We will,” Cassie replied. “Anyways, we should probably focus on the meeting for now.”

“Yeah,” Lorena said. “We can talk more about this after.”

Cassie nodded. There was one more call she’d have to make after the meeting wrapped up, to a friend who might not otherwise have a team to rely on. But for now, she felt like she had who she wanted.

WWWWW

It was a bit hard to get in contact with a former Atlantean princess seeing as cell phones famously don’t work under water, but luckily, Chloe was able to give Cassie the number of somebody who might know her whereabouts.

“Hello? Who is this?” came the somewhat gruff voice of Aquaman over the line.

“Hey, this is Wonder Girl? From the Justice League?” Cassie said as she paced back and forth in her apartment. The thought occurred to her that maybe she should define a new name, step out from Diana’s shadow a bit. No time to think about that now, though.

“Yes, of course. What can I do for you?”

“Is Dolphin around? Do you know if you can put her on?” Cassie asked, pausing her pacing to sit down for a moment.

“I think she’s back down in Atlantis for a bit?” Aquaman replied.

Cassie shook her head. It was 2024; how was it still so hard to track people down?

“Hey, Mera, you know where Dolphin is?” Aquaman called out. Cassie could faintly hear a murmur of response through the phone line, before Aquaman gave her an answer. “Yeah, she’s still down there. We’re planning to have her up next weekend, though. You have a message you’d like to send her?”

“Well…” Cassie started, drumming her fingers on her knee. “You heard about the whole eclipse thing with the Dark Gods that Wonder Woman and Watchtower have been prepping for? I was wondering if she wanted to join my team for that battle.”

“Hmm…” Aquaman took a few moments to think things over. “I suppose she wouldn’t be fighting with the Justice League, and I think she might have interest, especially after everything with Namma… alright. I’ll ask her on the weekend, and let you know!”

“Thanks. Talk later!” Cassie said with a small smile. After a similar response from Aquaman, she hung up.

Immediately, she dialed another number. “Hey, Chloe? I think I’ve got my team ready. Still waiting on one, but otherwise I’m all good. What do you need from me to help make sure that we’re all good for the eclipse?”

She felt a small pit in her stomach at the thought of any of them getting hurt… but maybe that was the right amount of fear. Maybe that meant she’d lead them well.

She put her nerves behind her. She could manage this. She’d have to.

<< | < | [>]

Hellblazer

Issue 28: Surprise, it goes bad

Author: The_Vowellster

Arc: British Magician-American Vampire

Set: 94

Previously on…

The American South

Outside an unspecified airport

“Okay, you fuckin’ caught me,” Constantine lit a fresh cigarette and sat on the curb. Thanks to the walking mass of shrubbery known as Swamp Thing, all the people going to and fro are giving me a wide berth. “I’m not taking a vacation.”

“I know Constantine,” Swamp Thing rumbled. “Before I became… this,” he held out a moss-covered hand, “I was one… of the brightest… in my field.”

“You know mate, we’ve been friends for years now,” are Swampy and I friends? “and I’ve never really asked about who you were before all,” he waved his hand vaguely at Swamp Thing, “this.”

“Perhaps,” Swamp Thing let out a rustling sigh like wind in the trees, “after this… issue has been… resolved. We might… have the time.”

“Deal,” Constantine took a long drag, held it in, breathed it out. “Well, tell me more about this new Avatar of Rot then.” He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and an old woman shot him a dirty look. “So is it an old friend or someone new?” Wouldn’t be the first time a companion had been chosen to be an Avatar of some type. And Rot wasn’t necessarily evil, just seemed to attract them. Like cops and being a prick.

“Is there a better…” Swamp Thing looked around them. Constantine had exited the airport and almost immediately stopped, probably still within the twenty foot “no smoking” boundary, “place to have… this talk?”

“There a bar close by?”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

20 minutes later

A bar close by

“Alright mate,” Constantine took a sip from his beer as a bead of condensation rolled down the glass, “tell me what you know about this newest Avatar.”

“I am still… uncomfortable with how… you pay Constantine,” Swamp Thing breathed.

“The monopoly money? So their corporate overlords make a little less,” Constantine waved his hand. “It’s not like I tip with it.”

“No, you don’t… tip at all.”

“Look, we’re getting distracted,” Constantine waved the argument away. “The new Avatar. Tell me about ‘em.” The bar was dimly lit and filled with cigarette smoke, just the way he liked it. Although Swamp Thing looked less than enthused. That’s fine, let him. They’re dragging me into their problem.

“It appears to… be a vampire,” Swamp Thing shifted uncomfortably in the wooden booth.

“The two of you are worried about a vampire?”

“It seems that… this one is… a new breed,” Swamp Thing said.

“A new breed,” Constantine spun his beer glass on the coaster. “What’s that even mean?” He’d dealt with vampires before, even the King of Vampires once upon a time… They managed to be both incredibly dangerous and laughably inept. Van Helsing had said it once, ‘Their age makes them both dangerous and too cautious.’ Or some shite like that. Never was one for memorization. But the classics seemed to work pretty well on them: stake to the heart–although that seemed to take care of most things. Which made it difficult to imagine that two true blue super heroes were struggling with them, even a pack of them.

“Buddy Baker has… done research into… the vampires recently,” Swamp Thing said. “The most prolific… common vampire is… known as Carpathian.”

“Your classic Dracula type then?” Constantine took a sip of his beer and washed it down with a pull from the cigarette. Was that what the King of Vampires was? Now that had been one scary fuck. But like all vampires he couldn’t take sunlight… or demon-tainted blood. “So why haven’t you and Animal Man dragged him into the cold light of day and force fed him some garlic yet?”

“He appears… different,” Swamp Thing said. “Stronger. Buddy Baker… had not fully… investigated this new… American Vampire.”

“Vampire is a vampire chum,” Constantine said and chugged the rest of his beer. “Best be getting on with it while the sun’s still up and before he can mass too much strength.” During daylight, vampires were manageable. Like most nightmares. At night… well sometimes they even manage to scare me a little. “Where are they holed up at?”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

The Rose Gold Club

A short time later

Skinner Sweet clicked the peppermint stick between his teeth. After damn near a hundred and fifty years roaming the planet he’d learned a fair bit of patience. But the Carpathian vampires managed to challenge that. All their damn plans had to be so… perfect. Perfection had never really been his schtick. Agent of chaos. Shoot from the hip. Make it up as you go. The wording might change, but Skinner Sweet remained the same. He was never really satisfied with the status quo or someone telling him what to do.

And now, after all these years, he wasn’t anyone’s stooge. He was the one in charge. And already it was boring. Sure it had been fun to rip the arms off a few sissy vamps, but that energy quickly faded. So now he just sat while others did paperwork and told him that their plan for world domination would be prepared in the coming future. Not that he’d ever wanted World Domination either. Somehow that was an expectation that had been thrust on him. And for the moment he was rolling with it. If nothing else, it would be a nice change of pace for a while. He could cause some world wide panic this way.

There was a light tap at the door, “Mr. Sweet sir,” the timid voice of a vampire whispered. The blood of the last creature to interrupt his time still decorated the door.

“What is it,” Skinner drawled and clicked the peppermint stick.

“There’s a man here,” the vampire didn’t dare make eye contact. “He said he’s here to talk with you.”

“He said he wants to talk with Skinner Sweet,” he said. Maybe once upon a time someone might have known his name, but those people were long dead.

“No sir,” the vampire said, “he wants to talk with the Avatar of Rot.” Skinner perked up.

“Take me to him,” he’d never heard that title, but it certainly caught his interest. The vampire nodded again and led Skinner through the dark club to the entrance where a blond man in a brown overcoat stood with a cigarette in his mouth, then lit it with a flame produced from his fingertip.

“That’s quite the entrance,” Skinner said and clicked his peppermint stick on his teeth. “Although, no one seemed to give me your name.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

“John, John Constantine,” he breathed out the smoke. The little bit of flashy magic always seemed to work, added to his “mystique.” Although the mystique in this case was nothing more than some slight of hand. But it did the job and got their attention. “You seem to be the new Avatar of Rot and somehow it became my job to tell you,” Constantine raised his head then made eye contact with the vampire, putting every ounce of intensity into the stare. And maybe just a touch of magic to really hammer it home. “Back the fuck off mate.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

Skinner felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, the blood that pumped so slowly through his body chilled like ice under the British man’s stare. He even felt the rest of the vampires in the club take a step back as the menace rolled off the man in the jacket in waves. Whoever this John Constantine was, he was a threat. One that needed to be dealt with immediately. Skinner tried to leap at the man, fangs ripping out his throat as his claws disemboweled him. But his muscles were locked in place.

“Mmm, yeah,” Constantine breathed out a smoke laden breath, “you’re probably having some trouble moving ‘bout now mate. Consider this your one and only warning: back the fuck off.” Constantine turned abruptly, overcoat snapping from the sudden movement. Then Skinner felt a finger twitch. And he smiled.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

Constantine was dazed as he spit out rock and grit from the asphalt of the parking lot. Last thing he could remember, he’d been in the club, had managed to intimidate the new Avatar then blacked out. He managed to get his legs under him, shakey as they were and turned. The Avatar of Rot stood in the shadow of the entryway, eyes glinting like a wolf’s. The road rash from skidding across the ground burned as he let a small smirk touch his lips. It was still sunny out, not quite high noon, but far from sundown too. And this vampire had made the mistake of throwing him to safety. He produced a cigarette and lit it, this time with a match.

“Looks like you lack a few brain cells,” Constantine was aware that trash-talking a vampire that had thrown him thirty feet might not be in his best interest, but in broad daylight he couldn’t be any safer. “I may not know much about you, whatever your name is, but I do know all vampires are scared of the sun.” His smile dropped as the vampire extended a pale arm into the sunlight and didn’t burst into flames. Fuck.

“Name’s,” the Avatar of Rot clicked his peppermint stick in his mouth, “Skinner Sweet. I’m a little different from these fucks,” he threw a thumb back to the glowing eyes that sheltered safely in the club. Skinner Sweet bounded the railing in one movement and landed with a thud. “In fact, sometimes I even like to come out and work on my tan a little bit.” His hand transformed into long claws and his jaw unhinged, teeth growing to daggers.

Fuck. I hadn’t prepared for something like this. Even the King of Vampires hadn’t made his knees shake like this one. He’d fucked up.

“Not so talkative anymore magician,” Skinner hissed through his teeth, tongue trailing out. “Not so confident now?” A dandelion twitched in the asphalt as the stagnant air pressed uncomfortably around him.

“You caught me off balance is all,” Constantine took a deep pull off his cigarette to buy time and calm himself. It was a shite scenario, that much was certain. But he could recover from this. He’d been in worse situations than this and managed to scramble his way to victory. All he needed was to get out of this and regroup. “But I’ve got my feet under me now, and a little bit of help.” Skinner Sweet’s unhinged smile dropped for a moment then fell completely as Swamp Thing erupted from the asphalt parking lot, dandelion bouncing like a pony tail on the back of his head. Thank fuck, if it hadn’t been for him that new Avatar would have torn me to ribbons.

“Run, John Constantine,” Swamp Thing rumbled as he threw a fist at Skinner who jumped back, “I will find… you later.” Constantine nodded and took off as Swamp Thing increased his mass and Skinner tore at the vegetation in vain.

#Cyborg #58 - Atlas Awakens

<<| <| >

Author: Commander_Z

Book: Cyborg

Arc: Machine Mayhem

Set: 95

“Goooooooood afternoon mayhem enthusiasts!” The announcer's soprano voice echoed through the packed halls of the convention center.

“We’ve got quite the show for you today! 32 of the best robots from colleges all across the US are here, ready to show their metallic muscles and pummel their opponents back to the stone age!”

Spotlights flicked on, illuminating four robots evenly spaced out along the edges of the rectangular arena. It was perfectly flat and open, similar to a basketball court, with the exception of the reinforced acrylic barriers around all four sides to make sure that the audience in the stands were safe from the machines below.

Two of the robots were small and boxy, about the size of a coffee table, with their various weapons and movement systems sticking out. Another of them was disk shaped, like a top that had been sharpened to an edge. Then, there was one machine that literally stood above all others. The humanoid robot was right at the eight foot height limit, its bronze, metallic “skin” clothed with a crimson hood, gloves, trunks and boots made it seem almost as godlike as its name implied: Atlas.

“All of these teams are hungry for the chance to escape the free for all round and into the one-on-ones! But only one of these robots will be the last one standing! Only one of these teams can prove they're the best and move on! Are you ready… for MAYHEM?!?”

The crowd roared in response.

“That's what we love to hear! Let’s get it started… In three, two… one…!”

The robots fired out to life and began scanning the arena for their desired foe. They were required to operate solely on preprogrammed instructions, with their human creators forced to watch anxiously from the bleachers.

A small robot armed with a massive hammer was the first to move, swiftly driving over to the robot in the closest corner and slamming down the hammer directly on top of it. Some of its target’s armor plating seemed to crack and shake with impact, but not enough to phase it. It retaliated by turning on its flame thrower and pushing down its saw blade into the top of the machine, pinning it in place.

“A strong start from this match’s number one seed - Metropolis Technical University! Their robot focuses on doing long term damage with their fire and whittling down their opponents to finally cut through and do critical damage with their saw! Meanwhile, Cleveland State’s robot is focused on doing quick, severe damage with their hammer! Which style will end up being superior?”

On the other side of the arena, Atlas was indifferent to their struggle. The titan saw the two robots fighting and instead chose to walk over to the fourth robot, which seemed to be malfunctioning and was unable to move.

“Bad luck for the team from University of Illinois! Their spinning top type robot is devastating, but the additional complexity makes it prone to failure! Of course, that complexity is nothing compared to the walking type machine made by the team from the University of Michigan! Let’s see what it can do against a perfectly helpless target!”

Atlas stood directly above the machine, analyzing it as if it suspected it was a trap. Then, in one swift punch, its spherical hand tore into the top of the robot’s disk shaped chassis. The impact cratered in the top of the machine. Then, as swift as a lightning strike, a second and third punch rang out. The robot crumpled under the impact, like a kid tearing open the boxes for their birthday presents to get at the goodies inside.

The Titan looked over to the two robots, still locked into their duel and began to make its way over to its next victims.

“I… I don’t believe it! The sheer strength and speed on those punches! Can anyone stand up to that power?!? The only weakness it seems to have is that its size makes it have a low travel speed, but can any robot take advantage of that?”

Metropolis Tech’s robot went backwards at full speed to try and get out from Cleveland State’s hammer, and their speed proved to be enough to escape. But they were faster than the machine planned and the momentum from the rapid movement sent them reeling into one of the side walls. Cleveland State immediately accelerated over to the stunned robot and crashed directly into them while they slammed their hammer into the top of the machine. Instead of fleeing, Metropolis Tech stood their ground, sending out a stream of flames and pressing their saw blade down on their foe.

For a moment, it seemed like neither robot was damaging the other a significant amount. Then, Cleveland State lifted up their hammer for another attack and sparks flew out of the center of their chassis. Metropolis Tech's battle of attrition had hit something critical.

“It looks like Cleveland State’s battery took that hit! Their robot won’t be able to run much longer! But will they take their opponent with them? Oh, what’s this?! Atlas has finally made its way here!”

Metropolis Tech quickly lifted up their saw and created some distance between themselves and the other two machines. Atlas was happy to finish off the other robot for them. With a swift punch straight onto the cut made by Metropolis Tech, Atlas broke through the robot’s armor and messed up some of the sensitive circuitry inside.

“And another robot defeated by Michigan! Can anything stop this bot?!?”

As if answering the announcer's question, Metropolis Tech’s robot drove over to Atlas and slammed down their saw along the machine's leg, gashing open the armor. The humanoid robot tried to counter with a punch, but before it could react, Metropolis Tech’s machine was already gone, utilizing its superior speed to kite Atlas.

It went in for another round of attacks, revving up its flamethrower and saw blade as it drove over. Just as the saw impacted its previous gash, a one-two, left-right combo came in from Atlas. The punches broke through the little, boxy robot’s armor and made two fist sized holes in it. But Atlas only pulled its right arm out, leaving its left inside the chassis so Metropolis Tech couldn’t escape. One, two, three impacts directly to the processor of Metropolis Tech’s robot caused it to shut down, leaving Atlas alone standing.

“With an astounding three knockouts, the University of Michigan wins! You’ll see them again tomorrow morning with the winner of our last match tonight, so stay tuned to see who will be unlucky enough to face them!”

⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️

Later that night…

The three members of the University of Michigan’s Machine Mayhem team had just sat down for dinner after an amazing showing. They picked a local burger joint near the convention center and were briefly admiring the classic 40s style the place had while getting settled in their booth.

“What a day, guys!”

Donna was ecstatic, almost jittery with anticipation of the team’s next showing.

“Yeah, we all knew we made something special with Atlas, but I don’t think anyone knew just how dominant it would be. Every part of him just seems unbeatable.”

Keiji nodded. “What’s anyone going to be able to do to him? He’s the smartest, strongest, most durable machine by far. Sure, he’s slow but who cares. No one has a ranged attacking robot since it’s against the rules.”

“Gotta make sure we don't get overconfident Atlas might have the best “stats”, but that’s not all this is about. If they keep attacking his legs, he’ll fall over and then we lose. Or if he gets knocked off balance…”

“No need to be so concerned, Vic. I don’t think anyone has really had to think about fighting a humanoid style robot. We’ve already programmed in a counter to this too, like he did in the last match. Just celebrate what we’ve got tonight.”

Vic nodded. “I know, I know. We’ve just worked so hard on this, I’d hate to see it end here. We’ve got three matches if we keep winning tomorrow, I just want to make sure Atlas can take it.”

Keiji shook his head. “He can. We’ve put so much into him, now we just need to trust that he can take it, just like he trusts us to fix him up afterwards.”

“Just think, we know he works and we know he’s strong. Making any big changes at this point is more likely to break something than it is to improve it. What’s done is done.”

“Okay, I get it. Nothing left to do but watch at this point. It’s just, as the people who designed him, we know him inside and out. His flaws might as well be glowing, video game style weak points to us. But to everyone else, I guess it’s just like fighting a brick wall.”

Keiji and Donna were both about to respond, but their waiter arrived to take their orders, saving Vic from a bit more harassment. The moment had passed by the time they were done and so Donna thankfully hung up the topic.

“So… we’re juniors now. One more year until we’re in the real world. Any idea what you guys want to do?”

Unfortunately, not to anything lighter.

Vic was the first to respond. “I’ve thought about it a little bit. I feel like I do best when I’m in these weird situations, forced to adapt and come up with something new. I think I’d like to work at some company on the forefront of research on robotics, maybe Wayne Technologies or one of those Boston robotics companies.”

“Wow, pretty surprised you’ve got a solid answer on that already, Vic. Doesn’t seem like you,” Keiji joked.

“Hey, harsh. I can make a decision when I want to and this one’s kinda important. I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“Well, so have I. I’ve already made one game and I love the challenge it provides. I’m either going to join one of the big companies or just make my own indie games.”

Both of the guys expected Donna to follow up, but she didn’t. She sat there awkwardly, hoping that they’d just go to some other conversation or follow up their ideas. But they didn't. Neither was willing to prompt her, but she could tell they were curious and relented after a few silent moments.

“I’m not really sure where I want to go with things. I’m not like you two, some gods amongst the rest of the engineers in your fields. I’m just average, maybe a bit better than that.”

Vic shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short. Your control circuits and power distribution was nothing short of a miracle. The amount of backup systems you managed to hide all throughout the machine is incredible. I’m convinced pretty much any of the limbs could run all by themselves, even if they were completely separate from the main body.”

“Yeah, even setting the design work aside, you also managed to do design and code reviews on everything we did, fixing who knows how many errors.Without you, this thing wouldn’t have been half as good or even finished.”

“You guys… Thanks. But really, anyone could do those things…”

“No, no they couldn’t! You say you’re average, but the average engineer here can barely stay afloat with their school work. You managed to be a huge part of a massive project on top of that. No need to be so humble, be proud!” Vic said.

“Yeah, besides, I’ve had enough team projects where my teammates barely even show up. Showing up and doing your third of the work with your usual fervor makes you way above average in my book.”

Donna smiled warmly. “Thanks, really. Guess it’s just so easy to discount your own efforts when you’re surrounded by so many incredible people.”

Vic laughed. “Donna, I’m on the Justice League. You have no idea how much I feel that.”

“True enough. So I guess, if you were making me answer… I’d like to do something a bit less directly technical. I’m not sure what that really looks like, but I’ve been sorta thinking about getting into the law side of things, maybe patent law. Sounds like cool work and it lets me see all sorts of incredible things.”

“Yeah, that sounds like it’d be a really cool path to take. Wishin’ you the best at it,” Keiji said. He grabbed his cup and raised it between the three of them. “Here’s to tomorrow and whatever the future holds for us.”

Vic raised his and said, “Whatever it holds, we’ll get through it together.”

Donna raised hers and chimed in, “And no matter what happens, we’ve done something amazing. Let’s bring home the trophy!”

The sound of their drinks clinking echoed throughout the restaurant for a moment, but their laughter rang out for hours.

⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️

The next morning.

“What… the…”’

Each team was assigned about 200 square feet for their supplies and to store their robot while matches weren’t going on. The entire area was locked and guarded whenever people weren’t there, and yet Vic looked at their space in the convention center in horror.

Atlas was gone.

Donna and Keiji were standing right next to him, and they’d have never taken Atlas without him anyway.

Someone had stolen their robot.

It wasn’t completely unheard of for teams to steal spare parts or tools to try and hamper other teams, but entire robots were a scale beyond what people could even fathom. For one, they were big and heavy and incredibly conspicuous. They also had very little value to anyone other than their teams, so there was no profit to be made beyond cheating in the competition.

And yet, Atlas was gone.

“I’ll go talk to the security guards. Someone had to have seen something. You two, look for clues. Maybe there’s a strange footprint or something. Anything. We’re on last this morning, so we’ve got…” Vic pulled out his phone. “About three and a half hours until we need to be ready. Plenty of time to sort this out.”

Vic wished he was as sure as he hoped he sounded, but he left Donna and Keiji to hopefully find some answers. After a quick walk, he reached the security guard’s table. Only one guy was there, a man in his late 50s.

“Um… Hi. Was someone keeping watch last night?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Our robot is gone. None of my team members have touched it and we left right before closing last night, so no one could have taken it during normal hours. So we were hoping one of you had some idea what happened.”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “If we knew anything, don’t you think we would’ve tried to do something at the time? I can send a message to the guy who did the night shift, but he’s probably asleep for the next eight hours or so.”

“Go for it. Can’t hurt. Do you have security cameras at all?”

“The convention center probably does, but we don’t have access to those since we’re just hired for this event. I can contact them and see.”

“Great, thanks. Here’s my number, let me know if you find anything.”

Vic wrote down his phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to the guy.

“Will do, good luck.”

Vic walked away, annoyed. He hadn’t really expected anything, but he had hoped that they’d somehow have an answer.

“Any luck?”

Keiji and Donna shook their heads.

“Nothing on my end either.”

Vic paced around in silence, trying to come up with a plan.

“Okay, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go patrol the rooftops, look around and see if there’s anywhere nearby that looks like you could hide a robot in. I doubt whoever took it went far. Almost all of the schools that are competing aren’t from here, so they wouldn’t know anywhere too far to take him. You two can continue asking around here for things. There has to be something, I know it.”

“Good luck, Vic. I don’t think it's all that dangerous but… stay safe.”

“I will. Thanks, Donna.”

Vic walked away from their area while Keiji and Donna were left thinking of other angles. After a few moments, Donna spoke up.

“I’ve got an idea too, but it’d take me too long to explain. I’ll tell you later.”

“Uh, okay? I’ll hold things down here then.”

“Thanks, Keiji.”

Keiji left Donna to her methods, whatever she was doing seemed like her own thing. He wasn’t going to pry.

Instead, he swept their workspace again but still didn’t find anything. He checked his phone to see if Vic or Donna had said anything, but nothing there either. Then, he had an idea.

He booted up his laptop and after a few moments, pulled up the program for Atlas’ onboard camera. It was only supposed to be used for clips for their social media but he knew they usually forgot to turn it off, which meant it was still probably broadcasting.

Sure enough, it was.

It was dark wherever Atlas was, but the top left third of the screen was bright. He tried to focus the image in that section and realized that it was looking out through a window. The resolution was really bad this zoomed in, but Keiji was pretty sure that he recognized the building that it was looking at. It was built in a much more modern style than many of the other buildings in the area, which made it pretty memorable to Keiji.

He slammed his laptop shut and started to make his way over there. It was a couple blocks away along the route they drove to get to their hotel, so he figured he could be there in just a few minutes. He wasn’t sure of the exact address, but he sent a message to Vic and Donna saying whereabouts he was going so they could meet him.

⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️

Keiji got to the building that he thought he had seen through the camera and started taking in the area, trying to figure out which angle it had seen it from. Then, he chuckled as he realized that it was obvious: Atlas wasn’t in one of the buildings, he was in the alley in between them. Whoever had taken him had stashed him here, not too far from the convention center, just like Vic had guessed. What he had thought was the light from the window was actually just the angle of the camera only showing the bit of light that peeked through its peripheral vision as it looked at the building across from it in the alley.

Sure enough, around 10 feet from the street, was Atlas, standing right next to a couple of trash cans. But what surprised Keiji was that Atlas was powered on. The camera had its own battery that he knew was on, but Atlas’ battery only lasted 45 minutes or so. So either the robot was stolen recently, or someone had just turned him on. Both were confusing for their own reasons, but he didn’t have time to unpack that.

He went over to the back side of Atlas and reached towards the panel in the middle of his back to turn him off. But when he did, the robot’s motors started to whir and vibrate in a cacophony of sounds no motor system was intended to make.

Keiji took a step back, startled, but the noises continued.

It was as if everything that could move on the machine was vibrating itself, trying to free itself from the fasteners that held the robot together. Then, the noise started to get a little clearer, a little less random. It focused together into what Keiji swore was a word, repeated over and over.

“No.”

<<| <| >

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##The Flash #95 - Recruitment Trip

<< | < | > Coming May 1st

Author: brooky12

Book: Flash

Arc: ?

Set: 95

“Hey there, lady.”

Lisa gasped, recoiling as she looked up from her sitting position.

“Rink closed hours ago, what’re you doin’ here?”

Lisa’s eyes flashed with fear at the heavy-set man leering over her. A knapsack on the back of the man looked worn and in use, sagging with whatever potentially dangerous equipment or items he could be hiding in there. She sat on the stoop of a small ice-skating rink, the only of its kind in this part of the city.

She stammered, glancing around in shock as if she wasn’t aware of where she was. “I—I—um, well, I—I don’t know… I…”

The man looked confused, glancing around. “This just isn’t the most safe place to just end up falling asleep. Are you safe, you need a ride home or something? Again, place’s been closed for hours. Do you have shoes?” He asked that last question hesitantly, glancing at Lisa’s belongings surrounding her.

Lisa pulled her clutch closer to her, glancing down to the glittery ice skates still on her feet. “I’m—I’m fine! I just must’ve… I… Must’ve been waiting for a ride and… fell asleep…”

For the first time, something more glinted behind the man’s eyes as he watched the young woman slowly pull herself up, palm and purse pushing against the concrete of the building’s threshold, careful to not take any step in her ice skates. Lisa’s eyes stayed locked with his, watching for anything untoward.

“Ma’am, how are you going to get anywhere in skates?”

“I—I—I—I’ll be quite fine!” Lisa said, uncertainty thick in her voice as she nervously smiled, now standing up still in front of the building’s door. Even with her standing and a small slouch from him, the man had half a foot on her, standing a bit in the way of her exit.

“Are you sure? My car’s in the factory’s parking lot, didn’t want to leave when I saw you here. I don’t think you’re about to be robbed or—”

There was a word Lisa was waiting for. “You’re going to rob me,” she shouted, the uncertainty dipping into horror. She ducked down, moving before the factory worker could even comprehend what had happened, circling around him to reverse their positions in relation to the building.

Now that she was taking steps with her ice skates, the technology that her imprisoned brother had made creating skateable ice beneath her each movement, leaving a trail of ice as she moved away from him.

“What are you—”

It didn’t really matter that this was a set-up, even if there were cameras watching the area the conversation could be twisted into some argument of self-defense. It didn’t really matter that he wasn’t an actual threat and was trying to help, who would genuinely believe the words of a generic tough guy looking factory worker over a small and scared woman?

This was a perfect time to get some proper practice in. She ducked, avoiding his flailing arm as he turned around in surprise to face her. It wasn’t a swing, but what was the difference? She twisted on one heel while extending out the other, a small blade of ice shooting out in the man’s direction and slicing against his boot.

“Woah, woah—”

She pulled her leg back in, putting more distance between her and her practice assailant, bringing each foot up just enough to send ice daggers in his direction. They peppered him, bloodying his arms as he raised them to defend himself.

“Crazy—”

Never call a woman crazy, Lisa thought. How cruel! She kneeled down, pulling herself into a rapid spin. The ice around her built up, forming a small shell that quickly grew in thickness. When the man had finished flinching from the previous attack and seemed ready to run away, she slowed the spin down, pushing backwards against the ice between herself and him, sending a wall of ice pushing forward in his direction.

A shout of fear, a muffled impact, the sound of ice shattering, and the sound of an unconscious man hitting the ground. All good sounds.

Lisa could understand why Leonard ended up in prison. Just having the skates was exhilarating, and she wanted to experience more of this power. But this was just a test run without any help. She sauntered over to the factory’s parking lot, picking the car she’d steal to get back home.

It was time for a road trip.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Anthony Woodward groaned in pain, slowly moving his right arm to his mouth to drink from the small paper cup of water that the hospital had provided him. In the corner of his eye, the guard assigned to the inside of his room watched him with mild interest, as if he was curious about the pain he was going through.

He shouldn’t be here, but that was fine. He wasn’t that badly injured after trying to rob a local bank, but this was better than a reinforced prison cell for the time spent without bail before the trial. And besides, if he decided for some reason he wanted to leave, he could. What were the officer’s guns going to do? Not much.

He didn’t want to leave though, not immediately. He wasn’t intending on being escorted to prison, but a hospital in a densely populated city wasn’t exactly an easy place to escape from when you were a hunk of living metal. If he was smarter, he’d have made a backup plan, but he wasn’t, so he hadn’t. Next time.

A commotion outside of the room caught his attention. It wasn’t the first commotion he had heard, but this one seemed different. Raised voices and shouts weren’t normal for commotions, a single raised voice of a frustrated patient or family member maybe, but multiple raised voices and screaming was new.

The officer stationed in the room was curious for certain but didn’t move. Good for him, well trained officer of the law, keeping the peace and enacting the tyranny of the minority rule by oppressing those with nothing on behalf of those with everything. Good on him for keeping to his blinded tunnel vision responsibility of watching the injured man and not even taking a glance at whatever was going on outdoors.

The gunshots changed that, quickly. They were frighteningly loud compared to the prior arguments, originating right outside of the door to the room. Anthony knew there were more guards on the outside, but to hear them open fire in the middle of a hospital was still surprising.

The warden in his room drew his pistol, shooting Anthony a suspicious and angry glance before leaving the room. For a few minutes, it was quiet in his room. Not the traditional quiet with no sound, there was plenty of sound as some sort of fight occurred in the hallway, but the quiet of an unmoving space with no other people in it. Not a common occurrence between prison cells and monitored hospital rooms.

The sound of a body slamming into his door brought sudden quiet, the traditional quiet with no sound. Whatever happened outside was over, and he wondered what it was about and who won. He definitely hadn’t paid anyone in the community to break him out of the hospital.

When the door opened, the lady who entered was clearly not from the local sheriff's office. Ice skates and a superhero outfit didn’t seem like it’d be on the approved apparel list in their dress code.

“Hey there, quick question, how much Metalhead effect you have?”

Anthony frowned. What an opener this conversation was. “Spent all of it in a prison cell. None, or all.”

“Sounds like none. You and I got some good connections and work in if you remember me, Glider?”

This was an ally? “Glider? No bells rung. Are you busting me out? I was gonna leech off their painkillers for a while longer.”

Glider nodded. “Well, it’s a matter of time before the police arrive, so you can chill here longer and deal with the trial and escalated security of now someone coming in here to bust you out, or you come with me, we raid the stock room, then bust out.”

Anthony considered the options. “Let’s get going.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Hartley peeked through the small peephole of the door. A lady he didn’t recognize stood on the outside, waiting expectantly.

When he opened the door, however, the large metallic man standing in the garden was the first thing he saw, and Hartley immediately tried to close the door in response. The hand interposed in between door and doorframe prevented that, and it slowly opened the door despite Hartley’s resistance.

Bizarrely, the lady gave a thumbs-up, seemingly still cheery about the situation. What was her deal? Hartley reached up to his hearing aid, nervously shaking his head. People with perceived power over him tended to not like being told that they weren’t allowed to communicate with him.

The lady smiled at him, pointing a thumb with pinky extended at her sternum, following it with a flat hand tapping her forehead. Enough sign language to indicate “I know”, in the way that someone who had just pulled that information from an online sign language video library would sign it.

Well, it wasn’t like he was about to close the door, given that the metal man was holding it open and didn’t seem inclined to close it. They weren’t immediately trying to attack him, which was good, at least. “What,” he signed back.

The lady looked a bit uncertain at the sign and decided to move to the next stage of her script, pulling out a folded piece of paper to hand it to him. After a moment of hesitation, he took the letter, nervously opening it.

Dear Pied Piper,
I don’t know if you remember us. Girder and I are trying to learn ASL so we can reunite. We were allies in Metalhead. I’m working to put the team together based on my memories from the Metalhead Effect, and you were a part of it. You had a flute that could control rodents, and machines that could dampen sounds, does that sound familiar to you at all?
If I remember correctly, the further back stuff is fuzzier to me, you’re pretty angry with The Flash for messing up your high school and college days, right? Something about love triangles and you exploring your technical skill and getting shut down by The Flash. Again, it’s super fuzzy stuff, so if that makes any sense to you, awesome!
Dunno how much truth there is in that in here in the sequence of events that is reality, supposedly reality at least, but given that most people don’t seem too different between memories and reality, figured you’d be on board. Two’s better than one, three’s better than two, and a group’s better than three! We’ve got a few more stops to make for the group we’ve had.
We’ve been spending time learning ASL while tracking you down, but I wanted to communicate this thought properly, so I wrote it down. I hope that’s okay, I know deaf people don’t like that sometimes?
Glider

Hartley’s body language was interpretable in all languages, worry and fear. He held up a single finger, trying to indicate for the two of them to wait, and stepped away briefly to get a pen, hoping he wouldn’t return to find them inside the house. When he came back, the two of them were quietly talk-arguing among themselves. He wrote back his response on the other side of the paper, and handed it back.

Hi
You have the wrong person, I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are or what you are talking about. I don’t know anything about rodent or sound machines, or about The Flash. Please don’t hurt me, but I think you remember the wrong person.

The lady, Glider according to the signature, read it. Then she showed it to the man, presumably Girder. The two stared at each other for a few moments, then Glider turned her attention back to Hartley.

“Sorry,” she signed. Then, slowly in English for him to lip read, “We were never here, okay?”

Hartley gave a nervous thumbs up, which must’ve been the correct answer because Girder released his hold on the door and the two turned to walk away.

Hartley didn’t bother to watch them leave the property from the open door, closing it immediately. He watched them through the peephole as they left, finally releasing the held breath once their car was out of sight.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Girder closed the door of the car. “What was the deal with that?!”

Lisa’s hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to feel pain. They’d have to dump the car now that the kid had seen it and not joined them, but they needed to put some distance between him and wherever they dumped the car. “I dunno, Ant! I remember him very well, but I didn’t expect him to be totally clueless. At least with you, you’d been thrust into that world, and for me I’ve got a bone to pick with the Flash for what they’ve done to my brother.”

“So what was his deal, then? Pied Piper, right?”

“Yeah,” Lisa said, frowning. “I dunno what his deal is. Maybe his Metalhead life was just… wildly different to his real life. Obviously there’s like, a range of how different it seems like it can be, but maybe he’s just. More different than not.”

“Frustrating.”

“Yeah. And we don’t really have a lead onto Abra or George, so I guess it’s time to put effort into finding some of the others. I’d have hoped we’d have Hartley since, you know, tech and stuff, he can probably find people better? But now we gotta get into the more difficult folk without much of a lead.”

A new voice from the backseat piped up, and Lisa could see Girder twist the upper half of his body to look behind them in a moment’s notice.

“Ah, but this is perhaps where I can step in, my friends!”

“Give me one reason to not crush your skull in, now.”

Girder was blunt, but it was an accurate response. Lisa glanced in the rearview mirror, untensing slightly as the dark outfit and facial hair were incredibly familiar and yet entirely a distant memory.

“Allow Abra Kedabra, your friend, to introduce himself before you try. Not that you could succeed, Girder, for my magic defends me.”

“You’re Abra?”

“He’s Abra,” Lisa volunteered, and she could see Girder relax with her confirmation.

“You’re just gonna show up in the backseat of our car?”

“What better appearance for a magician than to suddenly appear!?”

“Where’d you even come from?”

“Ah, but my friend Girder, is that not the secret of the show?”

“I don’t like you.”

Abra laughed. Lisa relaxed as she pulled the car over to dump it and steal another. This was a good pick-me-up after Hartley blanked them.

Bird & Bow #3 - A Cheep Shot

Black Canary's Beginning

Green Arrow’s Beginning

<< | < | >

Book: Bird & Bow

Set: 95

Arc: Changed for Good

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

A month of nothing. After taking Rosa from right outside Iron Heights, they’d set the girl up in a safehouse, with full-time security and several escape routes.

It was no wonder they hadn’t heard a peep from Stanley Dover. But over the past few weeks, a new serial killer had popped up. The journalists were calling it the ‘Star City Slayer’ even though the murders spanned both Star City and Seattle.

They hadn’t heard a peep about that either.

The elevator ride to Ollie’s penthouse was tense. Silent. Another murder had occurred last night. The scene was so grotesque that even Ollie had warned her not to look. Not that she listened. It had been one of the worst things she had seen in a long time. This was no random mugging or accidental killing. It was precise, surgical with short incisions that kept the victim alive for longer while the killer did whatever they wanted.

It made her sick just thinking about it.

Dinah watched the digital display clicking upwards, clenching and unclenching her hands. They needed to do something, but Ollie was unwilling to put anyone's life at risk - a stance she appreciated but also understood was entirely pointless when people where literally *dying* because of their inaction.

A soft ding indicated that they arrived at Ollie's floor. They had started coming back here after their Wednesday night League training, and it had morphed into a routine they were both becoming comfortable with. Dinah tried not to read too much into the fact that she essentially had a second wardrobe stored in Ollie’s apartment.

Exiting from the elevator, Dinah stopped short, almost bumping into Ollie’s back as the man in front of ehr tensed even more, a thing she didn't think had been possible given the tension moments before. Peering around his back, Dinah spotted a middle-aged white man with a long, tan coat, stubble lining his cheeks and a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

She moved without thinking, lunging for the man and shoving him against the wall. A silver blade against his throat before he could utter a word. Oliver cursed, but even he was too slow as Dinah used her weight as a lever to push into the stranger.

Ollie had said his penthouse was the most secure building in all of Star City. She had watched as he meticulously added her details to every stage of his security set up. That meant whoever this guy was, he was either really bad news, or someone with impressive magic. Which probably meant he was doubly bad news.

The man's blue eyes flickered towards Ollie with what Dinah could only assume was a lack of self preservation, ash from his cigar falling onto her arm. “Well, I’m glad to see she woke up. But I’d be really glad if she wasn't holding a knife to my throat.” A thick English accent poured out of the man, as he addressed Ollie.

“Jesus, Dinah.” Ollie seemed caught between laughing and trying to remain serious. “Let him go. He’s……” Ollie left the sentence hanging, which didn't exactly fill her with confidence.

“I’m the best shot you’ve got at finding ‘The Star City Slayer and dealing with your Stanley Dover problem.” Confident, cocky asshole, but Ollie shrugged with an accepting nod.

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

John. Fucking. Constantine.

After Ollie’s small stunt last year with trying magic, he’d sworn up, down and sideways that he would never mess with the stuff again. Just so he could avoid ever having to deal with Constantine again.

But like a bad itch that never quite goes away, the prick was back, and the way the Englishman offered Dinah an easy, charming smile made Ollie want to punch something. Hard. He was thankful Canary either didn't notice or didn't care enough to return the gesture.

John puffed on his cigarette, the ash falling onto one of Ollie’s expensive rugs and making his eye twitch. Dinah claimed he was a bit of a neat freak, but he was someone who believed that everything, and everyone, had a place of belonging. Cigarette ash did not belong in his home.

Ollie flopped into his chair, closing his eyes and counting slowly to five in his mind before opening them again and trying to settle back into his Green Arrow demeanor.

“Right. Give us the information.” Dinah looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, the only surprise she showed at the change in his voice.

Constantine blinked slowly, then took a sweeping shot around the apartment. “You really are a shite host Queen. Forgave it the first time because you had shit going on, but you don't even offer a man a glass of whisky?” The way the man's blue eyes stuck to the decanter, Ollie assumed if he gave him a drop, he’d go through the whole bottle.

“Sorry, I’m out.”

John scoffed, his eyes lingering on the obviously full decanter for a moment longer before he seemed to return to business mode - or what John Constantine considered business mode at least.

“We’ve been watching Mr Dover for some time. Sly prick - ‘scuse my language” He offered to Dinah, who rolled her eyes when Constantine turned his attention back to Ollie. “But he’s been steadily working on a way to steal powers. Took to fostering kids to try and figure out when and how it happened, kept in touch with the kids as a means of having life-long data points.”

Dinah’s eyes widened just a fraction, and Ollie could tell she was putting the puzzle pieces together faster than he could. “He’s the Star City Slayer.” She breathed.

Constantine worked his jaw for a moment, but nodded. “Him and his little cult of ordinaries - no offense - “ he said this time to Ollie. “We didn’t think they’d take it this far, but even more concerning is the fact that we think they might have been successful.”

Ollie blinked. Dinah blinked. A new type of tense silence settled around the two of them, even while Constantine kept talking.

“My associates and I understand that you have Miss Rosa Dillon under surveillance. We’ve come to tell you to pull it all. Dover’s a smart man, like the rat he is, he'll only come out when the lights are out and the cats have gone to sleep.” He gestured to the two of them as he mentioned cats, and they exchanged glances.

Ollie worked his jaw, trying to stifle the panic working its way through his stomach. This is what he’d been afraid of after everything with the Flashes. It was why he’d started looking into things. He knew if the Star City Slayer existed in this version of events - well it was inevitable that Dinah would be ready and willing to put herself on the line to make sure other people stayed safe.

It was one of the things that he liked about her. That had made him fall for her in that other life.

Even now he could see her gaze hardening, as the prospect of putting someone else - an innocent in her eyes - in the firing line became an unacceptable casualty.

Constantines words rambled into an uneasy silence as the man looked between the two heroes before whistling, low and quiet. “Thought you’d have sorted this out by now.” He stood a bit straighter, stretching. He placed two cards on the coffee table before sticking his hands back into his coat pockets. “I’ll give you twenty four hours to figure your shit out. Won’t bother telling you that either way, Rosa’s surveillance stops - it’ll just be the difference between you knowing where she ends up and us staying friends or….” He shrugged, as if the consequences of what he was suggesting didnt bother him one bit.

Without another word, John Constantine left, and once again, he left Ollie having no idea what to do other than fight like hell to keep Dinah safe.

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

Dinah could see the wheels in Ollie's head turning after Constantine left. As the Green Arrow tried to separate whatever feelings he had from the pure facts they had been presented.

Ollie blew out a breath and she straightened in her chair slightly. Ready to fight if necessary.

Green eyes met her blue. Steely determination that made her stomach flutter.

“Let me make one thing abundantly clear, Miss Lance.” Arrow spoke slowly. “Though it kills me, I will never stop you from doing what you think is right.”

She stared at him uncomprehendingly for several moments. He took a step closer, his overwhelming presence kicking her heart into high gear.

“But that also does not mean that I will allow you to unnecessarily put yourself into danger when it can be prevented.” His fingers curled into a fist, taking a deep breath. “I understand you want to protect Rosa. So do I. But I want to protect you too.”

Dinah opened her mouth to protest, or to say something in response to the emotions Ollie was displaying, but the man in front of her held up a hand before continuing. “I propose a compromise. Constantine is obviously going to do whatever he wants to do, let's try and keep in the loop by introducing you as an *ordinary* friend of Rosa's. That way you can keep an eye on things, but you're also not a target.”

She pursed her lips. She didn't know Constantine, or the lengths the man would go to to get his way, so in that sense Ollie's plan made sense. But she wasn't sure if she'd be able to forgive herself if anything happened to another person because the two of them left the case in Constantine's hands.

His proposal was a good one, and she almost hated him for it. She had been so willing to throw herself into danger that she didn't even consider this as an option.

“Fine.”

She didn't think a single word could make another person smile in the way that Ollie smiled. His grin spread so wide she could see the simple on the side of his mouth. A very distracting thought.

Dinah blinked, dragging her eyes back to meet Ollie's dancing green eyes. And she knew her own smile met his.

*Shit.* She was in trouble.

##Superman #95 - Revenge

<< | < | > Coming May 1st

Author: MajorParadox

Book: Superman

Arc: Heritage

Set: 95

###Breaking In

Alex’s Office Space Building, Metropolis

Lois had noted down which floor the elevator was on before it hit the lobby, luckily they only came from the second floor. The single flight of stairs would be nothing if she wasn’t very pregnant. But she couldn’t take a chance with the elevator. If she was spotted, that was game over.

The journey upstairs was steady but lengthy. It did give Lois time to think, though. Someone was organizing Superman’s enemies, but to what end? Did any of them have any motivations beyond wanting Superman dead? Baragge, Killgrave, and Metallo fit the bill, but Riot wanted to sleep and Livewire was powerless and reforming herself.

Things change, she supposed.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Lois pulled out her phone. Still no signal. She made sure it was set to silent. It’ll be hard enough being sneaky with a baby in her stomach, but a ringing phone would be a dead giveaway that she was there.

She needed to do one more thing before she went for it. Lois opened her message app and wrote up a text to Clark, letting him know what she found. The moment she got a signal, it’d be ready to send.

Lois peeked through the glass window in the door to the second floor. The part of the hallway was clear enough for a closer look. She gently placed her hand on the knob and turned it softly, pushing it slowly so it barely made a sound. As soon as there was enough room, she poked her head out and took a quick scan from side to side to find the coast was clear.

“Come on,” Lois said under her breath as she stepped out and checked her phone again. One bar popped up, so she clicked send on her pre-filled text.

Lois let the door close as quietly as she had opened it and proceeded down the hall, ducking below the first door. She tapped open the photo app and lifted the phone high enough to see into the room from the preview.

Metallo was there on a table with lots of wires and machines plugged into him. Riot was pacing around the other side of the room and Livewire was sitting at a chair in the middle, spinning around.

Lois moved her hand to get to the capture button, but the phone slipped out a bit in her hand, and tapped the glass of the door window.

“Who’s that?” asked Riot, splitting himself into two people.

Leslie stood up and bolted for the door, pulling it open to find Lois trying to hide.

“Lois Lane?!” she yelled, her eyes moving to the reporter’s belly. ”Wow, you’re about to pop! What the goshdarn heck are you doin’ here?”

“Gosh darn heck?” asked one of the Riots poking his head into the hallway for a peek.

“I’m trying not to swear in front of the baby,” Leslie explained.

“The baby’s not even freakin’ born yet,” said Riot. “They can’t hear you.”

“Oh, they can hear us,” Leslie corrected. “So watch your mouth.”

“She’s kind of right,” said Lois.

“What do we do now?” the other Riot asked from inside the room.

Leslie looked down at Lois. “Get the rope,” she said.

Outside Fortress of Solitude, North Pole

Earlier

Clark dodged the energy pulses from the Kryptonian mech suits as he spiraled down toward them, his heat vision blaring. He managed to destroy one more of them, but two others leaped up and grabbed him by the arms, slamming him down into the snow.

“Enough,” said Clark, lifting himself enough to grip the mechs’ arms. He raised them into the air and smashed them into each other, pieces of Kryptonian metal crashing apart on impact.

The mech suits were still functioning, so Clark finished them off with more bursts of heat vision, slicing them apart. He then turned his attention to the fortress, which had fortified the entrance.

Jax-Ur had managed to escape from the Phantom Zone by hijacking Jor-El’s hologram. He was one of Krypton’s smartest scientists– and the most dangerous– earning him the privilege of being the planet’s first Phantom Zone prisoner. He said he would find a way to release the other prisoners, namely General Zod himself. Clark couldn’t let that happen.

Clark flew down to the sealed-off entrance and let a punch fly that sent shockwaves in all directions, snow flying everywhere. But he hardly made a dent. All the extra protection they added to the fortress had been working well, except it was never intended to keep himself out.

A buzz came from Clark’s phone and he took it out to find a text from Lois.

Lo Lo (Just Now) Checked out Alex’s, def the place. Looking closer until you get here

Damn

Clark looked closer at the fortress wall and then turned around to fly upward. He tapped a button on his belt. “Watchtower,” he said. “Activate Fortress Failsafe 1.”

The data sharing between the Fortress and Watchtower allowed for an additional level of security in case either became compromised. Watchtower could send a virus to the Fortress to interfere with its operations. It wouldn’t stop Jax-Ur entirely, but it would slow him down.

Clark flew off toward Metropolis.

Inside the Fortress of Solitude

Earlier

General Zod towered over the hologram of Jax-Ur.

“You kept your word and freed me,” he said. “But we still need to free the others.”

“Kal-El will make it back inside,” said Jax-Ur, displaying a video feed of Superman fighting outside. “Are you strong enough to keep him at bay until I finish?”

“I was drained of my power before being sent back (Superman #31),” Zod explained. “Prepare the regeneration matrix,” he ordered.

“On it,” said Jax. “But even that will take time. There may not be enough before–”

“Let me worry about that,” said Zod, watching the Man of Steel destroy the Kryptonian mech suits.

A fortress robot hovered over, carrying a black garment.

“Put this on,” said Jax. “It will help your body absorb the energy quicker.”

Zod lifted the suit to find his House of Zod symbol on the chest in silver. He took off the tattered clothing he was currently wearing and replaced them with the new ones.

A loud crash echoed around inside the fortress as Superman tried to break his way inside. But then he just flew off.

“Fascinating,” said Jax. “He knows what’s at stake, but he gave up.”

“He’ll be back,” said Zod, climbing into the regeneration matrix. “And I’ll be ready for him.”

The matrix closed around him and began radiating an intense glow of yellow light.

Jax returned to working on the Phantom Zone projector. It would take some time, but he’d be able to release more prisoners as long as Kal-El didn’t come back to stop him.

The lights in the Fortress flickered and Jax’s hologram glitched and became filled with static. “What is this?” he asked before the hijacked robots disabled themselves and fell back to the ground.

Another hologram appeared that looked like a man’s head on a cartoon body. He was waving a finger and repeating the phrase. “Uh uh uh. You didn’t say the magic word.”

“Magic?” asked Jax. “Kal-El may be craftier than I thought.”

###Interruption

Office Building, Metropolis

Now

Karnowsky and Killgrave entered the abandoned office with a mysterious woman in a gray hoodie and a black face mask. It was a safe bet she was in charge by the way she held herself.

The woman dropped a briefcase on the table beside Metallo and opened it up to reveal a mixture of colors glowing from inside.

“Is that-?” Killgrave asked, his face almost salivating.

“Kryptonite,” Metallo finally spoke up, his voice strained and crackling.

“I thought the stuff only came in green,” said Leslie, taking a closer look to find three shards. One green, one red, and one blue.

“Back when Lex Luthor synthesized it,” the woman explained. “Due to some anomalies in the process, a red variant was sometimes produced. It’s rumored it affected Superman psychologically instead of physically.”

“I thought LexCorp’s kryptonite production was shut down and it was all destroyed, though,” said Killgrave.

“Luthor found a new source,” Karnowsky cut in. “That nutjob Conduit. I heard that’s where he got enough to fuel that super suit he used to fight Superman.”

“Correct,” the woman agreed. “He was able to reproduce the anomaly in his extraction. But this time, another anomaly was found, which also produced the blue variant.”

“And what does it do?” asked Riot, currently back as one person.

The woman lifted it, the blue glow lighting her up. “Unclear,” she answered. “Save it for a last resort.”

“Ar-are you going to keep… talking,” Metallo said, struggling to talk. “Or… w-will one of you put some in my chest?”

Leslie looked to the others.

“Do it,” the woman said, placing the blue K back down and began to leave. “And then find a way to get Superman’s attention. It shouldn’t be too hard, just make a scene.”

“An opportunity fell into our laps,” Riot explained. “We got that nosy reported Lois Lane tied up in the other room.”

The masked woman turned back from the door. “Lois Lane,” she repeated. “She’s here?”

“What were you thinking?” Karnowsky asked, rushing to his Barrage armor.

“If she’s here…,” Killgrave added, never finishing his thought. He grabbed some devices from the table. He looked at the briefcase and swiped the blue K.

“I understand this doofus messing up,” Karnowsky added, getting a confounded look from Riot. “But you should know better, Livewire.”

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging.

The masked woman had already left.

“I don’t get it,” said Riot. “What’s the big deal?”

Karnowsky placed his blue helmet over his face and primed his arm blaster. “If Lois Lane is here, Superman won’t be far behind.”

“The Super nuisance seems to work with some people at the Daily Planet,” Killgrave explained. “Always keeps them safe.”

“Guys!” Metallo yelled.

“Give him some kryptonite,” Killgrave ordered as he and Barrage went for the windows to check the skies.

Riot picked up the red kryptonite and placed it in Metallo’s chest.

“About time,” said Metallo, lifting himself. “First things first, we better take out the reporter.” He tried to stand, but then slipped down and fell to the floor. “What the hell?” he asked.

“Oh, maybe you need green?” Riot asked, bending over to meet Metallo face-to-face.

“Livewire,” said Riot, lifting his hand. “Pass me the green one?”

But there was no response.

Riot stood up and looked around. “Livewire?” he asked. But she was gone. “Well, it was fun,” he said, before running down the hall toward the elevator. “Until next time!” he shouted as the elevator doors opened.

The Next Room Over

Leslie entered the room where Lois was being held. “We don’t have a lot of time,” she said, dropping down to untie the ropes.

Lois struggled to talk, but she had tape over her mouth.

“Oh, right,” said Leslie, ripping the tape away.

“Owwww!” yelled Lois.

“You’re supposed ta’ do it like a band-aid,” said Leslie, returning to the ropes.

Lois gritted her teeth to help with the pain. “Why are you helping me?” she asked.

“I didn’t want any of this,” Leslie explained. “So, I’ve been working undercover.”

“You tied me up,” Lois groaned, standing up from the chair.

“I couldn’t give myself away yet,” said Leslie. “Metallo–”

The door crashed open and Metallo stood there. “Two for the price of one,” he said.

“Leave her alone!” Leslie yelled, lifting the chair and swinging it toward the metal man. But Metallo lifted his arm, letting it break apart on impact. He grabbed the former disk jockey and tossed her to the wall, turning his attention back to Lois.

A spark of electricity shot across the room.

Metallo turned to where he threw Leslie to find more sparks circling all around her as her skin turned white and her hair light blue. “What the–” Metallo started.

“Shut your metal mouth!” yelled Leslie, firing off an electric bolt that knocked the cyborg back into the hallway. She turned back to face Lois. “Huh,” she said. “I guess the power was in me all–”

Metallo jumped back inside and punched Leslie, sending her reeling back. But she quickly recovered and grabbed the villain’s metal arms, letting her electricity flow.

High Above Metropolis

Clark arrived back in Metropolis in a burst of speed, quickly scanning for the location of the office building where Lois was investigating. He couldn’t even be mad. She’s a reporter. Of course, she’d investigate the lead. But they were dealing with five Superman villains teaming up. That wasn’t a safe situation.

Upon finding the location, Clark saw Livewire inside fighting Metallo with Lois rushing for cover. He flew down the building but a blast of energy shot him from one of the windows.

Barrage.

Clark recovered, but Karnowsky took several more shots, so the Man of Steel flew down toward the window, taking evasive action until he broke through the wall.

###Another Interruption

Inside

Karnowsky was struck back as he broke Clark crashed into the room, but his armor protected him from the impact. He fired off another shot, which made contact, knocking Clark to the ground. Thinking quickly, he grabbed a piece of wall debris and flicked it toward his attacker, throwing him off balance. Before Karnowsky could recover, Clark was back on his feet, crushing the arm blaster.

Clark had been keeping an eye on Lois, who had safely escaped while Livewire and Metallo were fighting in the next room. He moved toward the door but felt himself being pulled back by some invisible force. There was nobody else in the room, though.

“Intergang cloaking tech,” said Clark aloud, resisting the pull.

It must have been what they used during the S.T.A.R. Labs breakout. He was familiar with it back when the criminal organization was still operational. Not only did it keep people invisible, it cut out all sounds, so Clark couldn’t even use his superhearing to find them.

There was no response. Or, if there were, he couldn’t hear it.

The pulling force went away but then the table started rattling and flew across the room to hit Clark.

“Is that the best you can do?” asked Clark, tossing the table to the ground.

The entire room started to shake and the walls crumbled apart, letting the ceiling fall, pieces of debris bouncing off Clark’s head. The air fizzled as a small device appeared out of nowhere. The cloaking device was damaged in the attack.

Thaddeus Killgrave appeared in the doorway, his eye widened at the realization Clark could see him. As the Man of Steel approached, he pulled out the blue kryptonite and lifted it toward the hero’s face.

Clark raised an eyebrow. “Where did you get that?” he asked, snatching it from the villain’s hands. He tapped Killgrave on the forehead, but nothing happened.

“W-was that supposed to hurt?” asked Killgrave, slowly realizing what had happened.

Clark had come across blue kryptonite in a possible future once (Superman #56). Unlike the green or red variety, all it did was shut down his powers.

Killgrave smiled and lifted a device in his hand, no doubt it was responsible for his earlier attacks. Before he could activate it, though, Clark decked him across the face, knocking the escaped prisoner out cold.

He picked up the blue kryptonite and tossed it across the room before rushing into the hallway. Lois was there, standing by the stairs. He was surprised she didn’t get much further yet, but she was running for two.

“Lois!” Clark yelled. “Are you okay?”

Lois held onto her husband when he reached her. “That’s subjective,” she said. “The baby’s on her way,” she said.

Clark’s face lit up, but his smile quickly faded when Livewire was sent flying down the hall and Metallo stepped out, eyeing the Man of Steel.

“You!” he cried. “We have unfinished business.” He opened his chest to reveal the green kryptonite powering him, which Clark immediately felt starting to weaken him.

He wasn’t dealing with synthetic kryptonite. Somehow Metallo got his hands on the real stuff. Someone was pulling the strings there. None of those supervillains had the resources to get their hands on it.

“Try to get downstairs,” Clark told Lois before taking a flying leap toward the metal cyborg, crashing the two of them outside. His powers wouldn’t last long, so he had to end the fight quickly.

Fortress of Solitude

“What’s the status of the Phantom Zone projector?” asked Zod from within the regeneration matrix.

“I’m completely shut out,” Jax-Ur replied. “Whatever Kal-El did interfered with several key systems. I’m afraid only he could disable it.”

“Let me out,” Zod ordered.

“But you aren’t nearly strong enough to face him yet,” said Jax-Ur.

“Maybe not,” said Zod, breaking a hole in the matrix and tearing himself out. “But I’m strong enough to get this done quicker.”

Outside Earth’s Atmosphere

Sometime Later

“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Jax-Ur through the communication device on Zod’s breathing mask as he approached the sun.

“Yes,” Zod answered. “I’m feeling stronger already.”

Zod let the sunlight hit his body as he got closer and closer. It wasn’t too long after, that he felt himself restored.

“I’ll need to find him,” said Zod, turning back toward Earth.

“I was able to monitor some video feeds,” said Jax. “He was fighting a metal man outside a building in Metropolis.”

“Metropolis,” Zod responded. “I’m familiar.”

Office Building, Metropolis

“I do not have time for this, Corben,” said Clark as he tried to freeze the metallic man from getting any closer.

The exposure to the kryptonite was minimal so far, but it was still affecting him. It wouldn’t do too much damage if he kept Metallo as far away as possible.

The freezing didn’t help much, as the kryptonite energy compensated to melt away the ice that was building up.

Clark flew up high, firing off heat vision, but Metallo blocked it with his arm. It wasn’t intense enough to do much damage to his armor. And Corben wouldn’t stay still long enough to keep it aimed at any one location.

The cyborg leaped up, trying to catch up to Clark’s height, but the Man of Steel veered out of the way, letting him crash into the side of the building. It was a dangerous move, but Clark took the opportunity to move in close and punch Metallo in the back of the head. He lifted him, the burn of the kryptonite increasing, but tossed him away, feeling slightly better as soon as he was clear again.

Metallo landed on the ground and quickly fired off an energy blast from his chest toward Clark, hitting him before he could swerve out of the way. He was getting slower without realizing it.

Clark flew back up, to get as far out of range as he could, but Metallo jumped up, climbing the building by pushing himself from window to window. Just as he was about to reach, a lightning bolt exploded down from the roof and sent him falling back down where he crashed into the concrete below.

“Never thought I’d see the day I’d be helping you, Big Blue,” said Leslie, with a smirk.

“I could,” said Clark, flying up to her. “Your powers?”

“Yeah, they’re back alright,” said Leslie. “I guess they popped back up when I needed them the most.”

“I know you were happier without them,” said Clark. “I’m sorry.”

“We can start the pity party later,” said Leslie, pointing down. “We still got metalhead to deal with.

“I have an idea,” said Clark.

A few moments later, Leslie jumped down beside Metallo, her electric blasts lighting him up. Before he could fight back, Clark flew in from the other side with his heat vision blaring. Metallo turned around to face him, but Clark reached into his chest and yanked the kryptonite out, the crystal burning in his hand.

Clark fell to his knees as Metallo dropped to the ground and Leslie approached him, snickering.

“Heh,” she said. “It’d be so easy to take you out now.”

“Leslie,” Clark pleaded.

She grabbed the kryptonite and tossed it away. “Ah, I still hate you, but you’re growing on me,” she said.

Clark saw Lois making her way to the street and quickly ran over to support her. It felt like it took forever to be by her side again.

“Let’s get you to a hospital,” he said. “There’s a baby that’s ready to be born.”

Leslie smiled and waved as Clark lifted Lois away, flying as steady as he could. “Hey Lane,” she said. “If you need a name, Leslie is always a good one! Boy or girl!”

The SCU arrived and trained their weapons on her and Metallo, even though he wasn’t moving anymore.

“It’s okay,” said Leslie. “I’m not going to fight.”

The electricity around her fizzled away and her skin and hair turned back to normal.

“Huh, whaddya know,” she said. “I guess I can turn it on and off now.”

###Not Done Yet

Metropolis General Hospital

Soon

Superman stood by Lois’ side. “They’re calling your husband,” he said for the nurse’s benefit. “I better get going, though.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to take a look at your bruises?” the nurse asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Clark answered, heading for the window. “I’m already feeling better.”

“Those don’t open,” the nurse said.

“Oops,” said Clark, before the building shook.

Just outside a figure in black had landed in the hospital driveway, leaving a large crater in the concrete. As the smoke cleared, Clark recognized the face of another enemy he was hoping he wouldn’t see that day.

General Zod was back.

To Be Continued…

<< | < | > Coming May 1st

Wonder Woman #76: Thorns

<< | < | >

Author: Predaplant

Books: Wonder Woman

Arc: Season 3: Darkness

Set: 94

Peony stepped up to the Gateway City Hall of Justice nervously. It had been quite a few months since she had gone to one of their meetings, at which she had once been staples. Part of it was just that it felt like pity, the older superhumans giving her the time of day because she was lonely… but another part of it was that she had managed to actually form stronger friendships at school, so she didn’t need the companionship as much.

Today, though, she had a reason to show up here, as nervous as she was.

Her mother had been patient with her. She had asked her if everything was alright, if she wanted help talking to them about what had happened. Peony had said no, that she had to do this herself, and that she could do it herself.

And so, reluctantly, her mom had dropped her off at the building that was so familiar to her, and let Peony take the lead.

She pushed her way through the doors near-silently; she didn’t want anybody to notice her arrival until she let them.

She stepped carefully through the halls until, turning the corner towards the side room they had always used for their meetings, she saw Kiran there, cheerfully setting up for the day’s meeting.

Peony cautiously spoke up. “Hi.”

Kiran’s face literally lit up as she turned towards Peony. Kiran had made a lot of progress since she and Peony had first met; now, she was able to keep the darkness away from her body almost all the time. Now, she was just a beacon of light.

“Peony! It’s been a while!”

Peony smiled despite her nerves, Kiran was just that infectious. Steadying herself, she walked towards her. “Yeah. Is it alright if I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Kiran said with a smile. “I’m always here for you!”

“So...” Peony started, taking a deep breath. “My powers have gotten pretty scary, and I dunno what to do about them. Seems like everything I use them on gets thorns, and sometimes the flowers turn carnivorous... it scares me.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Kiran wrapped the other girl in a hug. “You don’t gotta worry about a thing. How about after our meeting today, you can talk to Cassie about it? She’s a Justice Leaguer, I’m sure she can figure this stuff out. Alright?”

Peony nodded. She felt a bit more confident, now.

WWWWW

“Hmm...” Cassie pondered. “And you say this started in the past few months?”

Peony nodded. Cassie always made her feel safe: she gave off such an aura of power, and she always felt so in control of things.

“Okay, here’s what I’m thinking,” Cassie said. “I think we need to go to the Cheetah.”

“Wait, like, the one Wonder Woman fights?” Kiran asked her, shocked. “Isn’t she, you know... dangerous?”

“Well...” Cassie attempted to choose her words carefully. “Ever since the whole thing that Argonaut got involved in with her, she’s been more willing to communicate with us. Wonder Woman’s gone to see her a few times, and they’ve talked a bit. And with her connection with Urzkartaga, she’d be likely to know why this is happening, and be able to talk you through it.”

Peony thought it over. Cheetah was scary, sure, but she’d have Wonder Woman there with her… or, at the very least, Wonder Girl. And her powers were more terrifying… at least, to her.

If this was what she had to do to get these answers, then so be it.

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll go see her.”

WWWWW

Peony’s mom was incredibly worried about her going to see the Cheetah... but at the end of the day, she didn’t stop her.

And so it was that, a week later, Peony found herself loaded onto Wonder Woman’s famous invisible plane, heading out to Stonegate Penitentiary.

There was still work being done on the building; clearly, Fury’s attack had done a number. But they had sectioned off an area for Wonder Woman, Wonder Girl, and for Peony, and the three were swiftly ushered deeper into the prison.

It felt cold, inside the walls. Peony assumed that was the point of a prison, but still. She felt like the building itself didn’t trust her, like the walls were going to cave in on her at any second, and as they descended deeper beneath the penitentiary, that feeling just grew and grew.

She looked to her sides, to the two women flanking her, and thought about all the perils they went through day after day. If they could handle this, so could she.

Back a little straighter, she continued onwards, until the three were ushered into a visiting area of the prison.

The man leading them there did not smile at Peony, even when she attempted to give him a nervous one.

“This lady’s a real monster. You sure you’re able to handle her?” he asked.

Peony inhaled, taking a deep breath. “I have to be.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Alright. I’ll go get her, you just wait right here.”

In just a few minutes, the Cheetah was wheeled in on the other side of a glass wall. She was heavily restrained, unable to move her arms or legs. Her eyes stared out at Peony with a predaceous curiosity.

“I’m used to Wonder Woman bugging me, with her dumb moralizing all the time, but it looks like today she’s brought me a treat. What’s your name?”

Peony suddenly remembered that this woman had slaughtered countless others for no real reason other than a vendetta, and a possession by this Urzkartaga. She gripped her chair nervously.

“Wonder Girl told me maybe you could help me.”

The Cheetah growled as she replied. “Now, now, be polite, why don’t you? Don’t ignore my questions. Tell me your name, if you want me to help you so badly.”

“Peony,” the girl murmured.

The Cheetah smirked. “Was that so hard, dear?”

Peony’s face hardened.

“Stop playing with her,” Wonder Woman spoke from the corner. “You’ve been willing to work with me; I’d appreciate it if you were willing to work with her.”

Pursing her lips, the Cheetah turned to face her. “Ah, Diana! How lovely of you to join us. I’m sorry, what goodwill has this Peony earned with me? For all I know, she’s just one of those wide-eyed children who you’ve influenced with your drivel of love and compassion, here on a field trip to get scared straight into being a good little girl.”

“How dare you say that about her?” Wonder Girl said, stepping to Peony’s side. “You have no idea who she is or what she’s doing here. Don’t make assumptions.”

“Everybody makes assumptions, my dear,” the Cheetah replied, lowering her voice. “Honestly, at this point it feels like you’re the ones who are pulling things off topic, not me.”

Wonder Girl glanced at Wonder Woman, who nodded. She stepped back, away from Peony’s chair.

“Now, can you tell me what you would like?” the Cheetah asked the girl before her.

“Something’s been going wrong,” Peony started. “I used to be able to make these flowers, but now it all comes out twisted... I feel like it’s all been ruined.”

The Cheetah smirked. “Yeah, puberty’ll do that to you. Seriously though, that is kinda messed up.”

“Thank you,” Peony said softly.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“I can see why you came to me,” the Cheetah said, breaking it. “It does sound like Urzkartaga’s doing. Obviously, I don’t have the ability to fully stop any of his plans from my cell here. Even if I was free, I’d only be one woman, and I’m basically a slave to him as it is.”

Peony’s face fell. “Is there anything I can do?”

The Cheetah sniffed. “Hmm… if you want my advice, I’d say he’s probably just toying with you. He likes that. Stay wary. He’ll look for any opportunity to pull you in, only to break you. Just like a lot of men, actually. He just wants to make you his.”

“My momma’s been telling me to stay wary as long as I can remember,” Peony replied.

“Wise woman,” the Cheetah said, her golden eyes narrowing. “But Urzkartaga doesn’t come around like a regular man, because he’s not one. Maybe one of your flowers will appear very beautiful one day, and it’ll speak and offer you the ability to change your power back. Maybe one of your thorns will prick the momma that you love so much, and he’ll offer to save her life in exchange for your submission. Or maybe he’ll just send you a letter in the post. However it happens, be sure that he has a shrewd plan to make you one of his thralls, and know that the only way for you to escape is to be shrewder still in your avoidance of his schemes.”

“You’re telling a girl to be paranoid,” Wonder Woman noted.

“And indeed I am!” the Cheetah replied. “She should be. If everybody was a little bit more paranoid on this planet, we would all be much happier. Those with power would be more afraid of misusing it, and those without it would be less likely to be exploited.”

“So that’s it?” Wonder Girl asked.

“What else do you want me to do, girl?” The Cheetah spat. “I gave my advice. She should learn to live with it… or not.”

“Thank you,” Peony said. “Are you sure you don’t have anything else to offer me, before I go?”

The Cheetah stretched her neck before looking Peony dead-on. “If you have any idea whatsoever that it might be him… do everything you can to avoid it. Whatever he offers, it isn’t worth it.”

“Alright,” Peony murmured, before standing up and turning to leave. Wonder Girl followed her out the door, leaving Wonder Woman alone with the Cheetah.

“Thank you,” Diana said. “I’m not sure if this will help her assuage her fears… but I think you’re being honest. And honesty, from you… it feels like fresh water on a hot summer day.”

“Don’t get used to it,” she growled back. “She deserves to know what she’s up against. I wouldn’t wish the fate that very likely awaits for her to anybody.”

“It’s good to know that there are things even you consider bad enough to fight against,” Diana smiled. “Maybe that means, one day, we can be allies once more.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“I won’t,” Diana replied. “But who knows?”

With that, she left the room as well, leaving the Cheetah alone.

WWWWW

“How’d it go?” Peony’s mom asked her, having just picked Peony up from the Hall of Justice after their excursion to the penitentiary.

Peony didn’t answer. She sat in the passenger seat of the car and slowly started to cry.

“Hey, Peony?” her mom asked, placing a hand on Peony’s shoulder. Peony looked up at her. “It’s going to be alright, okay? I’m here for you, and I believe in you.”

Peony looked up at her mother, tears streaming down her face. She removed her glasses and wiped the tears away. “Thanks, mom.”

Her mom sat there for a few seconds, unsatisfied with the response, before speaking again. “Hey, you can tell me things, right? I’ll do whatever you need to protect you.”

“I…” Peony started. “I don’t know if you can protect me, mom. There’s this god, and… and he wants to control me, and… even Wonder Woman can’t protect me. I don’t know what you’d do.”

Her mom processed the response. Her stomach fell; if Wonder Woman couldn’t protect her…

No. She needed to put on a strong face, to be brave for her child. She spoke again.

“I love you more than anything. If this god comes for you… I’ll get Wonder Woman to bring the whole Justice League together for you, if that’s what it takes. And you run and fight as hard as you can, and I’m sure you’ll be able to save yourself, because you’re the strongest girl that I know.”

Peony inhaled sharply. She nodded. “Uh-huh. I… I can do this.”

“Attagirl,” her mom said, starting the car. “I haven’t raised you all these years to not believe in you.”

As they drove off, Peony resolved to be brave. If not for herself, at least for her mother.

<< | < | >

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Hellblazer

Issue 27: The Call to Action

Author: The_Vowellster

Arc: British Magician-American Vampire

Set: 94

Previously

London

John Constantine's Apartment

“New Avatar of Rot huh,” John breathed in the acrid smoke, then slowly exhaled it, “thought all you Elemental Avatars were supposed to maintain some level of equilibrium or some shite like that.” No! This isn't my battle, don't get sucked in John.

“Yeah, we're supposed to,” Buddy said, looked for a spot to sit, and reconsidered it after a glare from Constantine.

“The Rot,” Swamp Thing said, his voice the tenor of roots growing through rocky soil, “has always been… greedy. Never satisfied… always desiring… more.” The Jolly Green Giant was probably John's oldest friend… If I actually can call anybody that.

“And whoever, or whatever, this new Avatar is,” Buddy said, “they're pushing harder than any previous one has. If we don't do something–”

“Bullshite,” Constantine interrupted. “Don't try that martyr fuckery with me Buddy Baker. You know who'll do something about it if we don't?! People that can fly through the fuckin’ sky because of a ring on their pinky finger. People that shoot bloody lasers from their eye balls. And what am I going to do? Pull a coin from behind their ear?” John let out a breath than took a drag from his cigarette. “Nah folks, I'm sitting this one out.”

“John,” Buddy started and held out a slip of paper with a phone number scrawled across it, but was stopped by Constantine raising a hand.

“Baker,” John's voice was flat, cold. Buddy Baker, the Animal Man, who could summon the strength of an elephant felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. “Take that thought and shove it up yer fuckin’ arse.”

Buddy blinked in the sunlight of the street. John Constantine did such a good job of selling himself as just a wannabe wizard and charlatan that it was easy to forget he was quite possibly the world's greatest magician and even some fundamental powers of the earth developed a cold sweat at the mention of his name.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

John popped a new cigarette from the pack with a small smile. Fuck I hate the showy shite but it was still fun to flex those muscles just to show that he could. And then he felt the world shift under him. Gone was his shabby apartment stained from cigarettes that weren't meant to be smoked inside and the beer stained carpet to be replaced by songbirds, freshly cut grass, and a pleasant house that wouldn't look out of place in a white suburban neighborhood. All it's missing is the white picket fence.

“So did you summon me,” John lit the cigarette, “or did the House?”

The figure on the porch stirred, “At this point Mr. Constantine, I think we're the same.” He walked to the edge of the porch so the magical sunlight lit his face, “After so long, it's hard to say where I end and the House of Mystery starts.”

“Downright philosophical,” Constantine said. At least he wasn't having this conversation with his wang out. The man on the porch might seem like any other, but you didn't earn the moniker “The First Murderer” for nothing. “So Cain, why'd you bring me here then?”

“John Constantine,” Cain said, “you've managed to avoid us for quite some time, but I believe that you owe us some stories finally.” He rested a hand on the railing and rapped his fingertips on it.

“Ah, is that the go of it then,” Constantine said and took a drag. “Fine then, I've got a story for you. Fresh off the presses. How ‘bout you come down ‘ere and we can lay in the grass and I'll regale you.” The tapping stopped and Constantine heard the wood of the railing creak as Cain gripped it in frustration. “That's right, you're the House and the House is you. So what is your range anyway? Don't think that's a conversation we've ever had.”

Cain glared at him from the porch, “The extent of my world is irrelevant. You owe me a story.”

“Always forget,” John said and puffed away on the cigarette, “the House needs a caretaker and storyteller. Fine, I'll tell you the story then. What do you know of the Elemental Avatars?”

“Their purpose is to maintain some semblance of peace,” Cain grumbled. “No single Avatar can get too aggressive because it eats into the territory of the others. Although it never seems to work that way in practice. Often, something happens. A new Avatar might be driven temporarily mad by the power and try to usurp the others. The tall green one–”

“Swamp Thing,” Constantine interrupted. It was a story from before he'd met the Jolly Green Giant. A false Avatar of the Green--Swamp Thing's first villain.

“Swamp Thing,” Cain continued, “believed that the others needed to die to ensure its own existence. The rightful Avatar set him on the correct path, that they needed to be in harmony.”

“They don't call you the Storyteller for nothin’,” Constantine smirked. “Now Rot is getting greedy.”

“Decay is a natural part of life,” Cain said.

“Rebirth too?” He avoided Cain's very pointed stare, “In the past Rot has been everything from an ex-girlfriend to… well not so nice things. But there've been times in the past where they've had to be replaced. Although the fuckers rarely seem to go gentle into that good night.”

“Thomas,” Cain said. “One of my favorites.”

“Somehow it always seem to be the death cults that stumble into power.” He shot Cain a look, “Thanks for that by the way.”

“I would apologize,” Cain said, “but it felt very right at the time. So, John Constantine, how will this story unfold? Will the “hero” accept the call to action?”

“Fuck no,” Constantine said. “It ain't my problem. I already told the Jolly Green Giant and his sidekick where to shove it. I can walk away from this without even a second thought. I'm just some third-rate magician. Ain't go much more than parlor tricks and some light hypnotism. Not bloody fireballs from my fingertips. This shite is for Fate or Z. They can deal with the world-ending fuckery.” Constantine could feel a headache coming on. Or maybe just the hangover catching up. A cigarette. A cigarette would make everything better, at least give him some time to think.

The pack was empty.

Fuck.

Cain nodded, “That is satisfactory.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

“I'll take a pack of silk-cuts,” Constantine said to the cashier at the Duty-Free register.

The man nodded, “I'll need to see your boarding pass sir.”

“No problem,” Constantine fished in his trench coat and pulled a newspaper clipping out, “here's my boarding pass.” The man smiled, retrieved the cigarettes and happily took the wad of Monopoly money Constantine gave him. Even wished me a pleasant flight.

“Z used to talk about how your magic was a lot more subtle,” a woman behind him said. The voice might belong to a woman, but those words belong to Deadman. “Always wanted to see it in action, still confused though.”

“Boston Brand,” Constantine turned and was overwhelmed by Heathrow International Airport. “Fuck off.” Several nearby travelers gave the two awkward looks but kept moving--too concerned about making it to their own flights to give it much thought.

“Woah now,” Boston threw up his hands in defense, “I'm not out to start a fight. Animal Man and Swamp Thing just asked me to check in on you.”

“Course they did,” Constantine brushed past him.

“They'll be glad to know you changed your mind,” Boston trotted after him.

“No, I didn't change shit Brand,” Constantine said. There were still a few hours before his flight even started boarding, plenty of time to get a pint or five. Get a good buzz going before I'm locked in a metal tube with crying babies and people who view deodorant as an option.

“Well you're headed to the States,” Boston said and almost had to run to keep up because of the body's shorter legs. “What else would you be doing if not helping Swamp Thing with that whole Avatar problem?”

Constantine wheeled on him, nearly towering over the possessed body, “A bloody fucking vacation Boston! I'm going to Mardi Gras. I'm taking a vacation from all this fucking shit.” He shoved a cigarette in his mouth and lit it, taking a deep breath, “Now, would you kindly, fuck off.” He let the smoke escape slowly.

“John, they need you! You're the World's Greatest Magician for-” Constantine's fingers wove through the air in a complex pattern, the woman paused mid-sentence, confused. “Excuse me, I must have thought you were someone else,” and then she scurried off in search of her gate.

Fuck. I'm getting soft. Only banished the Deadman from her body and didn't send the two of them to Timbuktu. He’d done it in the past. No remorse then. Constantine perched on a barstool and paid for a pint with more Monopoly money, the bartender plopped a coaster down followed by the beer. A single drop of condensation rolled lazily down the glass. God bless whoever decided airport bars would be open all day.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

The plane touched down and Constantine lurched awake, head dull from the alcohol on the flight. He opened the window shade and glared at the New Orleans afternoon sun. Never drinking again. The flight attendant had kept the drinks flowing for the entire first leg of the flight, all 17 hours of it. And then he'd promptly passed out on the second leg. His skull throbbed and mouth was full of cotton. disembarking was slow, even worse as the stale air made his stomach twist on itself. Water. He needed water. Or a toilet. Maybe both. An old woman lazily put her socks back on in a nearby seat and it took all of Constantine's focus to not empty his stomach in the aisle. Come on you fuck, just a few more meters to freedom. You've been through worse than this.

The fresh air hit like an icy wall and calmed his guts. Without baggage, getting out of the airport was a breeze. He'd gone through Customs on the first leg and having no need to wait at the luggage belt put him outside in a matter of minutes. He wasn't supposed to have someone waiting for him, no limo driver with a sign reading ‘John Constantine.’ But Swamp Thing stood outside of the automatic doors anyway. No sign though.

“Thanks for the welcome party,” John didn't pause and tried to rush past the Avatar of the Green but heard the lumbering steps follow, “but I'm here on vacation. Gonna go hit Mardi Gras and see if I can't pass out some beads mate.”

“Mardi Gras is… not for several… more months,” Swamp Thing said.

Constantine stopped, “Fuck.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

The music of the club still blasted around Skinner Sweet. It was one of the things he'd allowed to remain. He clicked the peppermint stick against his teeth and switched cheeks. As useless and weak as the Carpathian vampires could be, the resources they had access to would change the scale Skinner could plan and operate on. He wouldn't be limited to making one or two vampires every other decade. He could make a new generation. If they had thought the failed vampires were a sudden epidemic, then he would bring a pandemic. He would bring Death on a catastrophic scale.

#Cyborg #57 - Birth of a Titan

<<| <| >

Author: Commander_Z

Book: Cyborg

Arc: Machine Mayhem

Set: 94

About a month ago.

Somedays, Victor Stone felt like he knew approximately where things in his life were going to go, how everything would fit together like a messy, half finished jigsaw puzzle. It was hazy, but he could tell there was something there if he just kept doing what he was doing and worked hard. Other days, he felt like he might as well have wiped the puzzle off from the table and grabbed a new one. Today felt like one of those days.

His eyes glazed over as his thoughts demanded all of his brain’s power. Where could he even begin with a problem like this? Does he even begin, or does he just walk away and try and pick the puzzle pieces up from the floor but with the knowledge things could’ve been different? He took a deep breath.

“I… I don’t know. Let’s slow down for a minute. I don’t know anything about this, how can you expect me to take this on?”

The tension in the room was visible, but only to Vic. To Donna Morris and Keiji Otari, they were either unaware of what they were asking of Vic or had already steeled themselves to it and couldn’t be further phased. Vic wasn’t sure which. Their workspace was small, little more than a 20 foot by 20 foot space in a corner of the cavernous, pseudo-warehouse most of the student teams used for their engineering projects. The three of them stood around a small rectangular table with Donna’s laptop in the middle.

Keiji was the first to respond. “Vic, c’mon. You told me you were going to have an easy semester and you’re probably the only person on campus who could do this. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” Vic’s eyes grew as wide as the moon. “Look at that,” he said, gesturing to the video on Donna’s screen. “Do you have ANY idea how much work that would take? The design work, the manufacturing… I want to do something other than school, lab work and this… I’d like to have a life, y’know?”

Donna and Keiji looked at each other, confused. “Vic, we’ve known you awhile now. You don’t have a life.”

“Okay, harsh but true. But…”

“But what? You love robots; you’ve worked on them a ton with Dr. Morrow so you’ve got the skills. He’s going to be gone most of this semester on his sabbatical, so the lab won’t be busy and you’ll have way more free time. Why not take the once in a lifetime chance to do something as cool as Machine Mayhem? There’s no better robot fighting league in the world!” Donna said.

“Look, there’s clearly more going on here than you’re admitting to. Why are you just recruiting me now? You guys have been on this team for like a year and a half, right? It can’t have just been you two all along.”

Keiji nodded. “Yeah, we have some other people. But they aren’t engineers, they’re handling the finances and whatnot. The team had a lot of people graduate last year, but our lead engineer was still going to be here, then she had to take this season off for family reasons. So we’re scrambling to find anyone we can to fill her shoes. If you don’t do it… I don’t think the team will be able to compete this year. So… please?”

“Ugh… fine. I’ll do it.”

Donna and Keiji were ecstatic, all but literally jumping for joy.

Donna ran over to Vic and gave him a huge hug, which he awkwardly accepted.

“Thanks, Vic. You have no idea how much this means to me. And you won’t regret this, promise. It’ll be a blast!”

Vic smiled, but quietly scoffed. “Yeah, ask me in like a month. We’ll see if I regret it then…”

Like a month later…

Long after every other team had gone home, three people stayed in the student project team’s building. They didn’t dare glance at the corners of their screens to see what time it was; it’d only make the early morning classes they had coming up even more painful.

The three of them were sitting in a modern looking conference room that sat around 20 people, but they had conquered it completely. Scrap paper and the notebooks they came from obscured almost every flat surface in the room while the rolling whiteboards covered in doodles of schematics and snippets of code hovered around the table like a football huddle. Pizza boxes were stacked up to Vic’s waist in a corner, only matched by the large boxes of coffee they had drunk. The room looked less like a conference room and more like a bunker used by some increasingly insane last vestige of humanity that had been locked in there for months. And the three of them looked no better. Each of them hadn’t left this building since they arrived Friday afternoon and none of them had slept a minute, despite them insisting to each other that they had.

But finally, at long last, they were close. Close to finally having a completed initial design.

Vic had been working on the latest set of drawings for the arms on the robot all weekend, trying to find a way to make them physically strong and durable while still keeping their machine under the maximum weight. He tried to shift around parts, swapping materials, cutting down on noncritical features, but nothing worked. There was no trade off he could make that didn’t decimate some other part of the robot.

Then it came to him. He had been trying to keep the entire system heavily armored, but that was a mistake. Few other robots would be able to reach up to their machine’s shoulders, so it would rarely take damage anyway. He could remove some of the armor on the top third and just keep the armor where it'd better protect the machine. It was so simple but after almost 60 hours of work, his thoughts were barely coherent. But they couldn’t stop until they were done.

Vic furiously scribbled, trying to get the idea on the page before it left his mind or it was buried in doubts. But even his coffee and paranoia filled brain couldn’t find a flaw with it.

He tossed down the pen. “It’s done. Check it.”

Vic slid the drawing across the table towards no one in particular. Donna had to stand up and walk over to grab it, then started to scan over it.

“I… I think this is good. Like, really, really good. You’ve made something really special here, Vic.”

Keiji walked over to take a look and nodded. “Yeah, this is crazy stuff. With this, we’ve got a shot at being serious contenders.”

“Don’t say that yet. We’ve got the worst part to go still: actually making this thing. There’re probably like 1000 parts we’re going to have to make. And don’t even say it: I’m not doing it alone. I don’t care who we have to ask, this isn’t a job for one person.”

Keijji frowned. “Guessing it’s not one for three either?”

“No. Hope the Machine Mayhem club still has some budget since we’re going to be buying a lot of food to bribe people to work for us.”

“I’ll check. I think we should be okay… probably.”

“So you know what else we need? A name. Can’t sell people on making a big product with a name,” Keiji said.

“Pretty sure that’s not how that works,” Vic said.

“Actually, I can confirm it is. The title is like the most important thing whenever I’m starting on a project.”

“Yeah, would you work on ‘Untitled Robot Project’? No. Would you work on ‘the Creation of Machine Mike”? Of course,” Keiji taunted.

“We’re not calling the robot ‘Machine Mike’.”

“We could though.”

“We’re not. It needs a big, powerful and intimidating name to fit its body,” Donna said.

They paused for a moment, thinking of what they could name it.

“I’ve got it. His mere presence holds up our world, demanding our attention. Who better to name our robot after than Atlas?” Vic suggested.

“A little forced, but I like it,” Keiji said.

“We can advertise with a slogan like ‘Support the World - Build Atlas!’” Donna said. “Yeah, yeah. This is going to be great.”

Vic grabbed a pile of drawings and started to sort them into piles. One of them was for the rejected ideas, the ones that still had some potential, and the ones they were planning on making. Out of the last one, he grabbed a drawing of the machine’s torso and added a wrestler style belt with an ‘A’ logo for a buckle.

“Perfect. Now all we have to do is… Everything else.”

⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️

It had been a couple weeks since the three of them decided on Atlas’ name and production was proceeding slowly but steadily. There were still more parts to be manufactured than not, but one of the subsystems with the most potential for failure, the arms, had been prioritized in order to start testing. Vic was a good engineer, but no one was good enough to design something like that correctly on the first try. Today was the fourth.

The first arm did nothing, the joints were too heavy and stiff to turn with a reasonable motor. The second revealed that the stress would be distributed primarily along the weak axis of the arm, causing it to crack at the first sign of resistance. The third arm fell victim to an overcorrection: the middle bars now buckled far earlier than expected and prevented the arm from moving after they deformed even the tiniest bit. The fourth? Vic was sure he’d designed a winner.

Vic and Keiji sat behind a clear acrylic barrier, watching the arm with anticipation. It was about five feet long at full extension and had a diameter the size of a dinner plate. It was resting on two small wooden pieces at each end to keep it from rolling off the table. There was only one finished arm, but each one would be 80 pounds of metallic muscle, it just needed to withstand its own power.

The arm was wired up to Keiji’s computer who was deploying one last bit of code before they tested it. They had hoped Donna would be able to be here in case they had some problems with the electronics, but she had another part she needed to work on, so the two of them were on their own.

“And… we’re good.”

Vic held an off brand video game controller in his hands anxiously. “Hit the X button and let’s see this thing move.”

The tension in the air was almost as thick and strong as they hoped their machine would be. His heart raced as he went to press the button, not sure if he had a fifth revision in him, let alone in their material budget.

But he pressed it all the same.

The arm slowly moved, going from its outstretched position into a curl at its elbow. After 30 seconds, it reached its maximum rotation, about 30 degrees from being perfectly folded in on itself.

“Yes! One test down!”

Keiji and Vic slammed their hands together in a thunderous high five.

“Next up are rotations, right?”

“Yeah. Hit ‘Y’ when you’re ready.”

The tension returned to the two men. If the arm passed this, it’d be the most successful one yet.

Vic gently tapped the button and the arm began to rotate slowly about the first axis, then the second and then third.They’d done it.

Keiji and Vic turned to each other for a high five, but Vic pulled him in for a hug instead, which Keiji graciously accepted.

After a few moments, they broke off and Vic said, “So what’s next? Didn’t think it’d make it this far.”

“Neither did I…” Keiji flipped through the seemingly infinite number of windows and tabs on his computer until he found the list of tests. “Ah, strength testing! Nothing major, we’re just going to hook a resistance band to it and a fixed point and make sure it can still move.”

“Gotcha, let me grab one and get it set up…” Vic ran back to the conference room to grab one of his bands from home while Keiji looked on with pride.

‘It’s amazing, really. Who would’ve guessed we could’ve pulled this off? Three juniors in college. Vic’s something else; no one else could even come close to doing this. I’ve got to live up to his work. The code’s been as bug free as you could hope, but is that enough? Not for the work he’s been doing. What could take it to the next level though…’

Keiji’s thoughts started to mull away at that until Vic returned and finished setting up the test.

“Ready?”

“Yeah. Press down the right trigger for this one.”

The anxiety had left the room like a gym after the homecoming dance after the success of the last two tests and Vic excitedly pressed the button.

The arm pulled upwards against the band, easily moving the eight or so inches that Keiji programmed it to as if the band wasn’t even there.

“Okay, call me reckless, but I think the arm’s ready for some real work. It’s doing all this without even breaking a sweat, y’know?”

Keiji grinned. “What’re you thinking?”

“This time, I’m going to try holding it down. We know it’s not going to blow up or anything… probably, so let’s get it into a more realistic scenario.”

“You sure? I don’t think it’s that dangerous, especially for a superhero but… safety standards. We gotta work up to something like that. We’ve done two calibration tests and pulled against an exercise band. Not sure it’s ready for human contact.”

Vic waved him off. “It’ll be fine. Nothing it can do to me that I haven’t taken. Did I ever tell you about my fight with Fyrewyre? Or what about when I fought Psimon in… err, ignore that. Point being, I’ve dealt with worse.”

Keiji raised an eyebrow at the second one, but decided not to push. Whatever reason Vic had for not telling him about that was his own. As for the test… He felt it was a losing battle. Vic was in another one of his stubborn moods.

“Fine. Just be smart, okay? Don’t fight it too hard.There’s no shame in losing to the man who holds up the world.”

Vic laughed. “There is when you’re just talking about an arm that we built. But point taken.”

As Vic sidestepped the acrylic safety shield, Keiji pulled out his phone and typed “91” into the dial pad. It wouldn't be bad to have help just one number away in case something did happen.

“Ready?”

“One sec…”

Keiji leaned over the table and grabbed the controller.

“Okay, on three. Just remember, safety first, okay? One… Two…Three!”

The robot arm sprung to life, trying to curl its forearm inwards. Vic hooked his right arm around it, while his left braced himself on the table. Vic’s muscles flared as sweat rolled down his forehead. He was holding on, but only barely. Then the software decided it needed more power and shifted into low gear. Vic’s eyes widened as he realized that Atlas still had more to give. But so did he.

He shifted his stance, no longer bracing himself on the table and using his left hand to hold the arm back too, relying on his legs to keep him from sliding away. Once again, Vic held. The arm tried to increase power more, doing everything it could to eke out a little bit more power to complete the command. But it had nothing else to give and began to back off to prevent motor burnout. Vic felt the force start to lower and began to relax too.

Suddenly, the arm’s motors ramped back up to full power, while simultaneously rolling itself a couple degrees in either direction. The tactic worked. Vic, not expecting the burst of movement, lost his grip and the arm slammed shut in a completed curl.

Vic took a step back, surprised. “Why’d you tell it to do that?”

Keiji was already pouring through his code and didn’t look up at Vic. “I didn’t. It shouldn’t have been able to do that at all…”

“Well, maybe leave that in there. It’d be a good move during the competition if it ever got grappled.”

“I guess… Still… where’d it know to do that from?”

Vic shrugged. “You’re up to what, like a trillion lines of code at this point? No one can understand anymore.”

“It’s only a couple hundred thousand… But point taken. I’ll have to go over it again before we do more testing.”

“Sounds like a plan. I think the next component to test will be the legs, but compared to the arm, it’ll be a breeze."

Keiji nodded, eager for a simpler task. Vic pulled out his phone and read a message.

"I’ve got to go talk to Matt, they’ve got some questions on one of the drawings they're fabricating. But take some time to relax, yeah? We’ve made great progress.”

“Yeah, yeah. Say hi to them for me,” Keiji said, waiving him off.

Vic headed off deeper into the building, leaving Keiji to his devices.

Keiji continued to scroll through his code, looking for any indication of what could’ve caused what he and Vic just saw it do. But there was nothing. It shouldn’t have even been able to rotate while in that test mode, let alone do it by itself. But yet… it did.

‘Well… whatever’s causing this has to be in here somewhere and I’m guessing I’d find it eventually… But do I want to? We want this robot to be the best it can be, and this is clearly making it better. Maybe I just lean into it. Perilandria was having that same issue with things going off the rails(See Cyborg 48!), never really figured that out either… But it made it smarter, more adaptable… Why not add that logic here too?’

Keiji shrugged and copied some of the code that powered Perilandria’s NPCs over to a new file in the project. Might as well.

He was about to start integrating it into the codebase but he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw Donna standing over him.

“Hey. I wanted the team to meet to discuss the next phase of the project. Meet in the conference room in five.”

“Sounds good, see you there. Just gotta wrap up a couple things first.”

Donna nodded and went off to grab the rest of the team. Keiji quickly skimmed through the code one last time, as if he expected the reason it was acting strangely to just appear out of nowhere. When it didn’t, he opened up yet another window to leave some notes to himself as a reminder of what he was doing. Then, closing his laptop, he headed over to the conference room. Always more work to be done.

<<| <| >

Bird & Bow #2 - Quivering Caw

Black Canary's Beginning: Green Arrow’s Beginning

<< | >

Book: Bird & Bow

Set: 94

Arc: Changed for Good

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

“It's a cult.”

Chloe said the words like they were obvious, even as she huffed and puffed after their hour and a half lesson. Dinah stared at her the same way Ollie was certain he was doing, like Chloe was some weird mix between a genius and a magician.

She’d started attending his promised archery lessons a few weeks ago, and had attended every one despite saying that her duties as Watchtower might keep her away, and they had been building up to more and more complicated maneuvers. Arrow had thought it would take months, but the Chloe he remembered was not the same one that showed up to his lessons, and she had rather quickly explained that she had recently acquired Godhood - specifically that of the God of War. He was thankful she was dealing with it a lot more calmly than he would be.

Ollie had thought it would be awkward to have Chloe train with him and Dinah - Chloe was his ex after all. A thought that had kept him from joining the League in the past but…… It was actually kind of nice. Friendly, even.

Ollie had a sneaking suspicion Dinah knew all about their past though, because she watched them closely. He thought about telling her that she had nothing to worry about - the memories from The Metalhead Effect were still so strong he sometimes almost forgot that Dinah wasn't his wife. But he didnt think Dinah would like his presumptions, so he left the issue well enough alone.

He’d roped both of them into his search for what connected the people from the other timeline. He’d explained what these people had done in the set of memories he had, the murders they’d committed and the horrendous things they’d done. He knew it didn't mean these people were the same, but the feeling in his gut hadn’t gone away over the last month, and he hadn’t survived this long by ignoring that feeling so ...here they were.

“A cult?” Dinah answered for both of them. She was barely sweating, but the rise and fall of her chest told me she had pushed herself even further today than she had last week. “How do you know? What do they worship?”

Chloe shifted, as one of the most powerful hackers in the world, and also being in control of League communications, she wasn't used to being questioned often. She was just there to get people the information they wanted and to make sure crises were answered or averted as need be.

She shrugged a shoulder, tilting her tablet to show several different coloured lines - patterns of movement, he was sure, that all converged in one spot. A small rundown church in Seattle from the photos of the building Chloe had been able to pull up.

“They all attend this church every fortnight.” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “And some of these people don't seem like regular bible-bashers, and others go to other churches in the morning, so I figure it would have to be something a bit more out there to get them all together so - cult.”

Dinah matched Ollie’s look with a fierce, genuine grin. The same one he had fallen in love with in that other world. The one he could definitely fall for again in this one.

“Ready to join a cult Arrow?”

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

They were, in fact, not ready to join a cult.

The message had come in later the next day from Chloe, the final piece of the cult-like puzzle that put a hold on their investigations. All the people that attended this fortnightly church had been raised by its pastor Stanley Dover. It was, they hypothesized, a way for the pastor to reconnect with the children he had once fostered from the Star City slums and make sure that his children were continuing to follow righteous paths.

Ollie and Dinah didn't believe it for a moment.

It was too good. Too pure hearted and innocent in a world that had taught the both of them to be wary of the kindness of strangers, to look gift horses in the mouth to make sure it wasn't gunning for your head a second later.

Honestly they were both surprised sometimes to turn around and see the other at their backs, to know what it was to have someone fierce and unyielding, ready to take on the world for you. It was heavy stuff, emotions that reminded them both of the past, of the people they had been and the mistakes they had made.

Chloe hadn’t been able to offer much insight except to say that rocking up at the church expecting to be invited into the cult was likely not their best plan and would end up with the group becoming more suspicious and less likely to do anything stupid - which was fine, if they wanted to spook them into laying low, but not especially helpful if they actually wanted to catch them doing anything shady.

So here Dinah and Ollie sat, both stewing in silence and wondering what they could do to get to the bottom of everything. She typed Stanley Dovers name into her fathers database again, staring at the picture of the aging bald man as if she could get the picture to tell her all his secrets.

He was totally clean. Not even a speeding fine. Had entered the clergy later in life, after fostering twenty kids in total, most for months or even years - an impressive statistic that not many - let alone men - had claimed to. He himself had no real reason to empathize with the orphans he fostered, having been raised in what all accounts saw as a loving middle class family.

He was, in short, nothing special.

On an odd hunch, Dinah typed in one of the names from the church. Rosa Dillon. A low level bank robber who had done a couple years at Iron Heights. Dinah must have made a noise in the back of her throat because Ollie was immediately looking at her.

“Find something?”

She made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, straightening slightly. “Maybe. One of our church friends is currently doing time in Iron Heights. Got an exception to be released on a fortnightly basis to go to church.” She chewed on her bottom lip as her fingers tapped away at the secure database of the prison. “Looks like………Metahuman wing.”

Her eyes lifted to Ollies. “What if they’re all - “

“On it.” Ollie had already lifted his burner phone to his ear, his voice turning gravely and rough like it did when he became Green Arrow.

As Ollie walked from the room Dinah continued to dig into the file. Rosa had been left in the system before she could walk, and all foster parents and system administrators notes seemed to paint the young woman as shy and docile. Afraid of loud noises. Many of those who had cared for her had ended up with broken bones and muscle tears though, and the girl had seemingly become a curse which led to none except Stanley Dover to be willing to foster the young girl.

Dinah’s heart tightened at the thought. Reading through the injuries it sounded like Rosa’s metahuman abilities had affected those around her. The notes from Iron Heights were much the same - guards and inmates who interacted with her too frequently ended up with injuries. Tests had indicated that she was able to affect the balance of others, causing them to hurt themselves in everyday tasks.

She was just about to type in another name from their list of cult members when Ollie returned, ashen faced. Dinah raised an eyebrow but didn't probe.

“Of the twenty-two kids that Stanley Dover fostered in his life, three of them were metahumans.: Ollie paused, blowing a breath out and running a hand through his hair. “Of those three, Rosa Dillon is the only one alive.”

Dinah straightened, tensing. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and it wasn't anywhere good.

“Chloe found the death certificates of the other two. Sent through the pictures of the murder scenes left behind it - it's not pretty.” The fact that even Ollie looked pale had Dinah hesitating for the tablet he offered her.

She took it anyway, thumbing through the pictures carefully even if some part of her wanted to throw the damn thing against the wall. The two victims, one male and one female from the autopsy reports, had been torn to shreds. Little pieces of flesh, bone and organs strewed around the alleyway and over the carpet where each had been found.

“What - who - did this?” Her voice was quiet. Each image was worse than the last.

“They never figured it out. There was nothing at the scene pointing towards either animal or man. They shelved the cases a year or so back and no one has really thought about them since.” Dinah could hear the guilt in his voice at the fact that he had been too busy wallowing in grief and rage to pick up on these murders, and had been so deep in his own world that it slipped through his fingers.

“Where’s Rosa now?” Dinah cut through the wallowing and self pity. Refusing to let either of them fall into that particular pit.

Ollie blinked at her, features slowly returning to that icey mask of the Green Arrow. “She’s being released full time - tomorrow.”

Dinah winced. It wasn't a lot of time. Not enough time if she was being honest. But all things pointed to this woman being in trouble - likely from someone she trusted.

“Right. You organize the safe house for our new friend Rosa, and I’ll see if Chloe can arrange for Ms Dillon to be released into our custody.”

Ollie offered her a hesitant smile, nodding. Dinah could see the tension easing from him. Clear goals, clear ideas, it all helped make them feel like they weren’t drowning.

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

Iron Heights Prison was exactly what it said on the tin. A sprawling estate of concrete and iron gates with barbed wire lining the top. Dinah was only slightly surprised at how tall the walls were, and beyond those, how high the barbed wire reached.

These people obviously understood their clientele.

She leaned against the hood of the car, legs out and ankles crossed in front of her. Ollie watched the gates with unblinking ferocity. The intel from the prison was that Rosa would be released in the morning. Before she got any more of the assuredly delicious, nutritious and free prison food.

A buzzing gate had Dinah straightening. Her leather jacket pulled close against her chest and even Ollie lost the slightly bored look on his face. Rosa Dillon was a young woman, mid to late twenties. Straight blonde hair fell down to her shoulder blade, and long bangs covered her eyes. Dressed in prison orange it was hard to tell what type of shape the young woman was in. But as soon as the door buzzed and she was officially out of prison the first thing she did was fish her phone from the clear evidence bag and began searching and texting.

“Looks like she hasn't been informed of what happened to her friends.” Ollie grunted in response.

Straightening from her spot Dinah tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket before heading towards the now free Rosa.

The young woman spotted them coming but obviously hadn't learnt the most important lesson in prison: dont talk shit lest you get hit. The young womans shoulders squared off against them immediately, shoving her phone back into the plastic bag from whence it came.

“Who’re you two shitheads meant to be? Some kinda gangsta hero wannabes?” Her voice was clipped and her fists were clenched ready.

“Ms Dillon, we’re sorry to corner you on the day you get out, but we believe you’re in grave danger.”

“Danger?” Pchaw.” Rosa smacked her lips, turning her head as an old beat up Camry slowly drove up the gravel driveway.

Dinah reached out, turning the woman's eyes back to her. “Jake Fox and Russell Glosson are dead. We think you're next.”

Finally, a hint of self-preservation. Rosa’s eyes went wide, darting back to the approaching car.

“We can keep you safe. We promise.”

Dinah just hoped she could keep the promise.

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##Superman #94 - Return of Jor-El

<< | < | >

Author: MajorParadox

Book: Superman

Arc: Heritage

Set: 94

###Breakout

Stryker's Island

Previously

Leslie Willis lay in her bed when she heard a loud bang. Sirens began blaring throughout the prison.

“Now there’s somethin’ ya don’t hear every day,” she said, even though she was alone in her cell.

A guard rushed by and Willis flagged him down. “What’s goin’ on, big guy?” she asked, listening to more chaotic crashes in the distance.

The guard stopped for a second. “Breakout,” he said, starting to move again. “Stay there.”

Leslie looked at the bars and rolled her eyes. “No trouble there, chief,” she said.

The sounds of yelling and destruction were getting closer.

“I wonder who’s making that ruckus,” Leslie said to herself. “All the super people are held in S.T.A.R. Labs.”

A blast echoed down the hall as the prison guard went flying past Leslie’s bars. She poked her head out and leaned for a peek. A man in a blue metal suit was walking with a much shorter man in funny glasses.

“There she is, Barrage” the smaller one pointed toward her.

“Her?” asked Barrage, looking the woman up and down.

“Me?” Leslie also asked. “Also, that look was kinda creepy, metalhead.”

“Livewire is very powerful,” said Glasses. “She’d make a good addition to our squad.”

“If you say so, Killgrave”, said Baragge lifting his massive arm cannon.

“Killgrave,” Leslie repeated with a big smile. “That’s such a cute name for such a little guy. But I’m not Livewire anymore,” she clarified. “Supes’ zapped my powers away when he was all electric. I still hate the guy, but I’m glad he did it.”

“Well, we’re here,” said Barrage. “You want out of here or not?”

“I’m fine here,” said Leslie. “But thanks for the offer.”

Killgrave shook his head, unlocking her cell with the keys he must have picked up earlier. “We’re going to need her help in S.T.A.R. Labs for the others.”

Leslie bopped him on the head as soon as he opened the door. “No means no, creepo,” she said.

“We don’t have time for this,” said Barrage, giving Leslie a hit on her head and knocking her out.

Fortress of Solitude, North Pole

Now

Kelex watched Flight of the Navigator on a viewscreen as other robots flew past him. One of them gave him a look.

“What?” said Kelex. “I’m on a break.”

“Whoa, hah hah,” a robotic eye in the movie said. “This can’t be happening. “I think I’ve gotten some stuff out of your head that has nothing to do with navigating this ship!”

“Interesting,” said Kelex, as the other robot shrugged and continued flying, not caring enough to criticize his extra-curricular activity. “The actor voicing Max sounds like Paul Reubens,” Kelex continued. “He played Pee-wee Herman. However, the person credited is Paul Mall.”

An incoming call from the Watchtower interrupted the movie and Kelex answered it. “You’ve reached Kelex at the Fortress of Solitude,” the robot answered as The Flash appeared on the screen.

“Hey, Kelex,” said Flash. “I’m getting an alert up here about our long-range scanners.”

“Interesting,” said Kelex. “I’m not detecting any issues on our end. The Fortress would have alerted me– Just a moment.”

Kelex found the problem. Watchtower sent most of its long-range scans to the Fortress to help with data mining, which made threat assessment much quicker. However, the data mining processes were shut down.

“Yes,” Kelex continued. “It appears there was a glitch on our end. I’ll check it out and get it back up and running in no time.”

“Thanks, Kelex,” said Flash before ending the call.

“Curious,” said Kelex to himself as he checked a log of Fortress operations. It appeared Jor-El had suspended the data mining. But why would he do that? “Jor-El?” asked Kelex aloud as he continued scanning the logs. “Do you have a moment?”

The hologram of Jor-El appeared before the robot. “Yes?” he asked.

“There appears to be several processes you have shut down,” Kelex explained. “Is there a reason for that? Some of them are integral to Watchtower’s monitoring capabilities.”

“Sorry, Kelex,” said Jor-El. “I’m still getting my programming reintegrated with the Fortress, so there are bound to be some interruptions. The equipment in Phantom Zone was ancient so I need as much processing power as possible to get myself back to full efficiency.”

“Ah,” said Kelex. “I knew there was a reasonable explanation.” He switched his screen back to his movie.

“Scuzz-bucket,” said Max. “Ha-ha!”

“Hey, well, if you're so perfect,” said David. “What are you still doing here?”

“I told you, I blew a fuse,” Max answered. “When I totaled out that electrical tower. I was checking out some daisies.”

“You crashed while looking at flowers?”

“Good point, David,” said Kelex to the screen.

Daily Planet, Metropolis

“What’s on your mind, Smallville?” asked Lois from her desk, leaning her chair back with her legs lifted on another chair. She refused to start her maternity leave yet, but at least she took frequent breaks.

Clark turned to his wife. “Lex is still out there,” he said. “There have been sightings, but nothing concrete.”

“He can’t hide forever,” said Lois. “He’ll face justice eventually.”

“And then there’s the Stryker’s Island breakout,” Clark continued. “Phillip Karnowsky broke Thaddeus Killgrave and Leslie Willis out of jail. Why? What are they planning?”

“And why Willis?” Lois added, picking up her water bottle to take a large sip.

“Right,” Clark agreed. “She didn’t even have powers anymore. How does she fit in with them?”

“There’s no known connection between any of them,” said Lois. “Other than being people who hate Superman and have fought him.”

Clark sighed. “That list keeps growing, unfortunately.”

“Maybe we’re thinking about this wrong,” said Lois, adjusting herself in her seat. “What does Willis have that Killgrave doesn’t?”

“What?” asked Clark.

“I don’t know,” said Lois. “That was an actual question.”

###Plans

Somewhere Else in Metropolis

Leslie sat in an office chair, handcuffed with one arm, while the other was clicking a pen open and closed. Barrage was across from her, out of his suit– and missing an arm– and going over notes while Killgrave was tinkering with a device. She stared toward the blacked-out window.

“Metallo is held at the end of that hallway, right?” asked Barrage, pointing to a spot on a poorly drawn map.

There was no response.

“Leslie!” he yelled, finally getting her attention.

“Hmm?” she asked, turning her head.

“Metallo,” Barrage repeated. “Where’s his cell?”

“I don’t think they let him have a phone,” answered Leslie.

Barrage sighed. “Useless,” he said. “Why did you make me take her again, Killgrave?”

“She’s Livewire,” he answered and the two just stared at him. “I thought she’d be more into it,” he added.

“Anyhoo, what’s the deal?” asked Leslie. “Why are you forming this alliance?”

“Squad,” Killgrave corrected.

“Somebody wants Superman dead,” Barrage explained.

Leslie’s ears perked up.

“And that’s fine with me,” Barrage continued.

“This isn’t your operation?” asked Killgrave.

Barrage shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I’m just leading it.”

“Who is in charge, then?” asked Leslie.

“I’m not sure,” Barrage answered. “Someone with connections and enough money to fund us.”

“Maybe it’s Lex Luthor,” said Killgrave.

“He wouldn’t hire people to kill someone,” said Leslie.

“He’s literally a murderer,” said Killgrave.

“Oh, I forgot he was found guilty,” Leslie teased. “Not!”

“Whoever it is,” Barrage said, trying to shut down the disagreement. “We have a job to do. So let’s keep planning.”

Fortress of Solitude

Later

Kelex clapped his robotic hands together as the movie ended.

“See you later, Navigator!” Max yelled as the ship flew through the fireworks. The same fireworks that helped them find the house. “Ha-ha!”

Kelex turned off the movie and went back to his duties, checking on Fortress operations. “That’s odd,” he said while reviewing some new processes Jor-El had been implementing. Adjustments were being made to the code in the Phantom Zone projector.

“Jor-El? the robot asked, prompting the hologram to appear before him again. “What are you doing with the Phantom Zone projector?”

“Kal-El has been trapped in there multiple times,” Jor-El explained. “It is of utmost importance we make sure it’s easier for him to escape if it happens again.”

“Oh,” said Kelex. “That’s a good idea.”

“Yes,” Jor-El agreed, his simulated face seeming frustrated, something Kelex had never seen in him before. He must have been through a lot down there. “Was there anything else?” Jor-El asked.

“Speaking of the Phantom Zone,” said Kelex. “Have you reviewed the progress of plans to release Phantom Zone criminals who have served their time? After the trial run with Faora failed (Superman #39), Kal-El has been looking for alternatives. Perhaps you can find a solution we haven’t yet.”

“Yes,” said Jor-El. “As I told Kal when I got back here, that will be my main priority once I’m fully reintegrated.”

“Hmm,” said Kelex.

“You’re concerned about something,” Jor-El stated.

“If that’s the case,” Kelex started. “Then why are you working on the Phantom Zone projector now?”

Jor-El stared at the robot.

“Maybe I should contact Kal-El,” Kelex said, floating away.

“That’s not a good idea,” said Jor-El.

Kelex turned back. “You cut off my communication access,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“No more questions,” said Jor-El before disappearing.

Something was wrong with Jor-El. Kal-El had to be made aware.

“Kelor,” said Kelex to his fellow fortress robot. “Is your communication access still active?”

The robot stopped for a moment. “Odd,” said Kelor. “It seems to have been deactivated.”

Kelex returned to his screen. “I have an idea,” he said, bringing up a list of recent activities. He highlighted his call with Watchtower. Perhaps that connection was still active.

Watchtower

Moments Later

—

Barry Allen sat at the main terminal while looking out the window at the view of Earth below. It was always a treat when he got to spend time up there, if only for the scenery. It was a lovely break from the constant rush of responsibilities and a helpful reminder of the scale of it all.

A window popped up on the screen, indicating a call was coming in from Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. Barry pressed a button to answer it.

“Kelex,” he said. “Any updates on-?”

“Sorry, Flash,” Kelex interrupted. “This is urgent. You have to get a message to Kal-El.”

Barry leaned forward in his chair. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s Jor-El,” explained Kelex. “Something’s very wrong with him.”

S.T.A.R. Labs

Later

Clark landed on the scene and the S.C.U. let him enter. Inside, he found his way to Captain Dan Turpin who was in charge.

“What do we have here?” asked Clark.

“There was a breakout,” Dan answered. “They didn’t even know it was happening until it was too late.”

Clark looked around, trying to find clues. “Who’s free?” he asked.

“Metallo,” said Dan. “And that oddball that goes by Riot. The one that splits into multiple people.”

“Anything connecting this to the breakout in Stryker’s?” asked Clark. “The timing isn’t can’t be a coincidence.”

“You should join the Daily Planet,” Turpin joked. “You’d probably make a good reporter. Always asking the right questions. But to answer that one, nah, this was stealthy. Not a bang-em-up and grab them out, like with that Barrage fellow. Guards even seem to think there were ghosts.”

“Invisibility, perhaps?” Clark mused. “Intergang had tech like that. And Killgrave was involved with them.”

Clark’s belt started alerting him to a Justice League call. “Thanks,” he told Dan as he headed for the exit. A guard’s desk caught his eye, though. There was a pencil cup filled with black and white pens. But one blue pen was an outlier. Clark picked it up and saw it said “Alex’s Office Space.”

“Mind if I take this?” Clark asked.

“Go ahead,” said Dan. “It’s just a pen, they got plenty of ‘em.”

“Superman here,” said Clark tapping his belt as he flew off from S.T.A.R. Labs.

“Hey, it’s Flash,” Barry responded. “Listen, I think there’s a problem at your fortress you need to look into.”

###Investigating

Daily Planet

Soon

Lois pulled herself out of her chair and grabbed her jacket, wrapping it over her shoulders.

“Heading home?” asked Jimmy from his desk.

“Yeah,” she answered, picking up her purse. “I think the baby wants me to take a nap.”

As she headed for the door, her phone rang, so she took it out to answer.

“You’ve reached Lois Lane,” she answered. “Home of the hungry and tired baby-to-be.”

“Lois,” said Clark. “I have to take care of something at the Fortress, but I may have found something at S.T.A.R. Labs. Can you look up ‘Alex’s Office Space’ for me?”

“What is it?” Lois asked.

“Just a hunch,” Clark explained. “But let me know what you find.”

“I’ll get back to you,” said Lois. “Love you, Smallville.”

“Love you too.”

Lois hung up and brought up a browser. She tied in the company name and found articles of it being shut down for tax violations. Their office building was currently vacant.

“Hmm,” she said to herself, placing a hand on her stomach. “What do you think, missy? Up for a field trip instead?”

Fortress of Solitude

Clark entered the fortress and Kelex flew over quickly.

“Kal-El,” he called. “Jor-El cut off my communication so I couldn’t call you directly. He’s doing something with the Phantom Zone projector.”

Jor-El appeared next to them.

“I’m afraid our friend here is panicking for no reason,” he explained. “I’ve been cycling down several Fortress operations, including data processing and communications, as I bring my programming back up to speed.”

Clark watched Kelex tilt his visor in a gesture of doubt.

“And the Phantom Zone projector?” asked Clark.

“As I explained to Kelex,” Jor-El continued. “My programming has been in the Phantom Zone for too long. The projector will help me filter out the noise.”

“That’s not what you told me,” said Kelex, folding his arms.

“That’s enough, robot,” said Jor-El. “Report for diagnostics. I’m sorry, Kal, he must be malfunctioning.”

“Hold on, Kelex,” said Clark, folding his arms too. “Jor-El, what is going on here?”

“I told you,” Jor-El answered. “The robot is…” He stopped when he saw Clark’s face. He wasn’t buying it.

A red energy pulse shot Clark down as a Kryptonian mech suit moved toward them.

“What are you doing, Jor-El?” Kelex asked. “He’s your son!”

“No,” said the hologram, the voice changing. It became deeper and grainier. “He’s not.”

The hologram changed shape, the hair thinning out and the face appearing older.

“My name is Jax-Ur and I’m in charge now.”

Clark recognized that name. He was the first criminal that Krypton ever sentenced to the Phantom Zone.

“What did you do with Jor-El?” asked Clark as he ducked away from the mech’s advances. He fired off some heat vision, burning into the metal, but the suit jumped into the air, dropping down with a giant, metal fist that Clark caught with his hands.

“I hijacked his programming with a download of my own identity,” Jax-Ur explained. “And now I’m going to do what you promised: I’m going to release all the so-called criminals in the Phantom Zone!”

“I never promised that!” Clark yelled, pushing the fists away and following it up with a right hook into the helmet, sending the suit flying across the room. He flew up and blew off some freeze breath as it landed, freezing it to the ground. “I said I’d help those who were rehabilitated find a new life. As soon as there was a place for them.”

The mech suit broke free from the ice and approached Clark again. But he fired off more heat vision, intensifying it as he moved closer. The helmet burnt off, revealing the suit was unmanned.

“Did you think someone was in there?” asked Jax-Ur. “I haven’t freed anyone yet,” he explained. “But I won’t let you stop me from doing so.”

Several more mech suits entered the area, firing off energy pulses as they moved toward the Man of Steel. He tried to fight them off, but they were overpowering him, carrying him toward the entrance. Their fighting was pushed outside and Clark watched as the Fortress closed the entryway and covered it with Kryponian metal.

“That won’t keep me out for long,” he said, going back to fight the mech suits.

Outside Alex’s Office Space Building, Metropolis

Soon

Lois investigated the abandoned office building from the sidewalk as several people were walking by in both directions. She put a hand to the glass doors and tried to look inside, but found the lobby empty.

“Hey, people are walkin’ here!” a man yelled, trying to get by.

“Then walk,” said Lois pointing out an open spot he could get by. She took some steps backward, getting stares from other people she blocked, and noticed several windows on the third floor were blacked out. She went back to the door and pulled, almost falling over when it unexpectedly opened.

“Now why isn’t that locked,” she said to herself, stepping inside.

The elevator caught her eyes, but she exhaled sharply. “That wouldn’t be sneaky, would it? she said, moving toward the stairs instead.

Lois entered the stairwell and cringed when she saw the stairs. “We can do this,” she said, tapping her belly. “Let me know if you need a break, though.”

A noise caught her attention and she stepped behind the wall, peeking her head out.

The elevator was running.

Lois waited until the elevator reached the lobby and she watched Philip Karnowsky and Thaddeus Killgrave exit and head for the front doors.

“Bingo,” Lois said under her breath. She pulled her phone out of her purse but found there was no signal. She looked at the stairs again. “I might as well take a look around until I can get a hold of Clark.”

###Situation Worsened

Fortress of Solitude

You won’t get away with this, said Kelex, heading for a terminal. “I’ll shut down those defenses and kick you out of the fortress. This isn’t the first time we’ve been compromised. We are prepared to deal with the likes of you.”

“Is that right?” asked Jax-Ur’s hologram. “You mean this protocol here I just disabled?”

“Oh no,” Kelex said softly, his visor fading into black.

Kelex and the other robots fell to the ground.

“Now, where was I?” said Jax aloud.

A vortex opened, light flashing all over the fortress until a figure dropped out. It was a man with black hair and a beard. “You did it,” the man said. “I was doubtful you could pull it off.”

“Everyone always underestimates me,” said Jax. “But they’ll never underestimate you, General Zod.”

To Be Continued…

<< | < | >

##The Flash #94 - The Right Person In The Right Place To Be The Wrong Person In The Wrong Place

<< | < | >

Author: brooky12

Book: Flash

Arc: ?

Set: 94

Jay sat down on the small rock, a respite in the space he had become familiar with yet was still so aloof and distant. He watched Wally move subtly forward and back, subtle movements to keep him in place without violating the Speed Force’s rules. Rules that for whatever reason didn’t apply to the rocks.

He wasn’t even sure whether Wally had seen him. So focused on his work, Atlas offering to hold up the globe, that anything else tended to fade by the wayside. After all, what could you possibly focus on when you were focused on the entirety of time itself? Jay shook his head at himself, his own mental dialogue, buying into Wally’s perspective of what this was even in his own mind.

This was not Atlas offering to hold up the globe, this was Sisyphus tormented and forced to forever push the rock up the hill. At least, until the nebulous point where Hunter Zolomon was found, Wally was more or less obligated to come back to the Time Stream to filter through countless numbers of small bubbles, little events through time, for Hunter’s influence.

He was the only one who could do this. Maybe with practice and experience some of the others could, but Jay had tried earlier that day and had no luck. Something about the Time Stream eluded him, an endlessly confusing puzzle that he couldn’t make heads or tails of, let alone comb through for subtle signs of interference.

“How’s going?”

If Wally was caught off guard by Jay’s question, he didn’t show it. “Going well… Should be finished soon.”

“Finished for how long?”

“Um, not sure. Thinking I’ll probably swing by once more after dinner, then once again before bed.”

“Wally, that’s going to be eleven times today alone—”

“It doesn’t feel like enough. Do you know what the plan for the main dinner will be?”

“Wally!”

Wally didn’t respond immediately, instead inspecting the bubble he held before releasing it back upwards, it floating upwards and forwards slightly as it reconnected into the movement of the Time Stream. He ran over to a rock slowly, settling down on it and facing Jay.

“I know, I know. But given how the reaction has been, I’d rather the next effect not happen at all rather than being measured in hours or days.”

“You know they’re already keeping track? Totally bunk Metalhead Effects, for times you and I know good and well aren’t M.E., but they’re giving them press time and credence for claims that are factually incorrect.”

Wally shrugged. “I’ve had to disconnect from some of my social groups for the region of Chicago I stayed in last year. It’s not great.”

“And you think that running yourself ragged checking every bubble a dozen times a day will stop them?”

“No.”

Jay frowned, in the manner of a teacher who can’t do much more than accept the apology from their student who bombed a test. “Why don’t we cut down to say, six times a day you come here and check this? Morning, bed, you pick the other four times?”

Wally looked back at the Time Stream, unconvinced. “And if I get anxious or worried?”

Jay wished Wally wasn’t asking this question. He wasn’t a therapist, he was barely mentally above water himself after the Metalhead Effect stuff, but Wally was just a kid. “Why don’t, if you get anxious, come here, run through maybe a billion or two bubbles, some notable stuff in recent past. If you don’t see anything, don’t do a thorough run-through.”

“That sounds fine,” Wally agreed.

Wonderful. It’s not like they had spent weeks trying to convince Wally that all he needed to do was check a few billion bubbles a day for any residual changes. If this was what he was going to do a dozen times a day rather than go through the whole process, maybe they could talk him down to just that later down the line.

Or, maybe Barry could find Hunter.

Jay wasn’t sure which one he’d bet on.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A woman and her son sat in a café, a full breakfast buffet between the two of them. Across the room, distant enough that small talk couldn’t be overheard, sat two men, talking about something. Hopefully, whatever their conversation was, it was just as light as the celebration of a mother and child truly reunited without worry.

Today, there were no worries, no anxiety or sad undertones or the struggle of reality. Today was a day of celebration, cautious yet full. After dozens of doctor visits since the return from the Speed Force, it was no longer impossible to deny the impossible. Every meaningful test came back with the same end result – Bart Allen was no longer speeding through life and rapidly aging.

For nearly two years, it seemed that he had been aging at roughly a year every month, and ever since the Speed Force visit, that seemed to no longer be the case. While placing his exact age didn’t seem possible, the West-Allens decided on a nice flat twenty years old for their child. Born only two years ago but a young adult by the time the problem was solved, Bart was happy enough with the situation.

This was a long-promised celebration. Following the heartache and trauma that came from the initial realizations a few days after birth, Iris had focused on the eventual good, knowing that eventually this problem would be solved. She didn’t know how, brought into a world beyond her due to her love for her husband, but she knew between her husband and the others he surrounded himself with, they would figure out how to solve the problem.

And solve it they did. Her son was here, able to live life to its fullest for the rest of the time he had left, undeterred by accelerated aging. If any superhero had better-than-average chances of living to retirement, she theorized, it was a speedster that could never get caught off guard.

And so, they sat in a nearly empty café, enjoying their breakfast meal. Normally, the café would be closed today, but a day’s worth of wages to the staff to set up just for them for the hour or two they would be there was enough to get the restaurant to themselves. This moment was for a mother and her son. She was happy to be done mourning.

The two talked, conversation rambling from friends to plans for the future to light chatter. Bart and Iris especially liked talking about the future, envisioning plans of hiking trips and kayaking and laser tag, things that Bart never wanted to consider before his freedom from time.

Now, an entire future was ahead of him, and the two decided to focus on that rather than the missing childhood behind them. They would never be able to experience that, and that was something to discuss when it wasn’t a celebratory moment.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Two men, friends from work, sat in a café, a half-finished egg sandwich and cup of tea between the two of them. Across the room, distant enough that small talk couldn’t be overheard, sat a mother and her son, talking about something. Hopefully, whatever their conversation was, it was not as heavy as crimes so terrible that they had never even been considered to be written into a country’s criminal code.

“I’m not super sure I want to bring in governments like that, Xavier. Sure, what he’s done is terrible and cannot go unpunished, but I also don’t want this to become a public manhunt and social event. I just want to find him and find a way to stop him from doing anything like it again.”

“To be clear, Barry, he’s a war criminal.”

Barry sighed. He had these speed powers for a long time, but it had only been relatively recently that he had been thrust in such a public-facing role with them, as the so-called superhero The Flash. A red mask and outfit hid his identity as he spoke to legislators, presidents, and schoolchildren about his super speed, but the life of The Flash didn’t disappear when the mask came off. “I think that if you look through the Geneva Conventions, rewriting time isn’t a listed war crime.”

Xavier Mendez shrugged, stopping a laugh that he knew Barry would not appreciate. He was a pencil pusher in the military, a nobody until some guy in Delaware stopped a plane from crashing and then all of the sudden he was a handler for the fastest man alive. Even out of the government now, he’d followed his newfound ally to keep him grounded and focused on the important things. The speed his brain operated at was faster than any computer, yet it struggled to break out of expected boundary boxes it set for itself. “Some clever lawyers could probably make use of the civilian treatment laws to get him.”

“There isn’t even a war going on, Xavier.”

“Is there?”

Barry didn’t immediately respond, so Xavier continued. “I dunno if our definitions of war even add up anymore. We tossed out physics on the very first day, and as far as I can tell the post-modern theories all just handwave away things that you or Supes or Diana can do as built on things that we have zero way to reproducibly test.”

“War still exists, Xavier. It may not be between armies as much as it used to be, but it lives on in people who have these superpowers and use them to oppress others for their own gain, and the people who have these superpowers and want to defend the defenseless.”

“So, there is a war going on.”

“Not one described in Geneva.”

Xavier sighed. “So what are you going to do? Keep his identity a secret, keep combing the planet and Speed Force until you find where he’s ended up, perhaps never succeeding? Instead of reaching out to trusted people in the governments of the world, people you’ve long cultivated strong working relationships with, and let them know to keep an eye out for a guy who’s once already rewritten the fabric of the world?”

“You make it sound like the wrong decision.”

“Because it is, Barry! How many years did you spend building up trust with the Greek, American, South Korean, Indian, whatever governments, to not take advantage of the favors owed to just give them a small heads up, oh hey just in case this guy shows up, he’s the one who rewrote the world to his liking, if you don’t mind passing word to me.”

“Most of those favors ae used up just from me patching up relations after what happened.”

“What happened as a result of whom, Barry?”

“Hunter.”

“And you won’t even pass the word along that hey, if you see Hunter, the source of your ire, maybe let me know so I can take revenge and responsibility on your behalf.”

“I’m not inclined to, no. I spent the last month or so trying to defuse tensions and anger, I’m not about to open the Pandora’s Box by going, oh hey now you’re involved, if you see this guy, I’m blaming let me come exercise vigilante extrajudicial judgement on him.”

Xavier nodded. “Here’s the thing, Barry, I understand your point of view, I just think it’s self-defeating and actively harmful.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Lisa?”

Leonard Snart, known more as Captain Cold in the modern day of infinite media coverage and superhero fixation, sat down in the slightly off-balance plastic chair. In front of him, a small, corded telephone sat on a desk, with thick glass providing a window between him and his sister to see each other’s facial expressions.

Leonard picked up the phone, hesitantly. His sister hadn’t visited since he had been incarcerated. She was at the courthouse the day he went in for sentencing, giving him a hug and wishing him the best as he had gone in, but he hadn’t seen her since.

“What are you doing here, Lisa?”

His sister, across the glass, smiled. “How have you been?”

Leonard frowned. “I mean, you can imagine what it’s like in here, it’s not the best of places. But it’s not like I can just check out?”

“Okay, given the context, are you doing alright?”

“I’m not being waterboarded, so I’ll count that as a victory.”

That got a laugh out of Lisa, so he counted that as a victory. “It’s good to see you again. Why did you come?”

“It’s good to see you again, even if it’s painful that this glass is between us. I wish I could hold what I want to say until we weren’t being listened to, but that’s not going to be an option for a little bit. You plan to appeal for parole soon?”

“I have a meeting with the lawyer closer to the summer where we’ll discuss it. You should bring up what you want to say, no promises that the parole stuff will go anywhere.”

Lisa sighed. “The Flash… Metalhead Effect, whatever that stuff was. How much do you know about that?”

“Less than you, I only know what they show on the television. You presumably have access to more information online or whatever.”

“I remember stuff from the time they erased, Leonard.”

Leonard wasn’t sure what this was leading to. As far as he knew, the stuff that got erased was just gone and not returning, right? So if she remembered, that was fine, but it wasn’t like him being better in the gone time would help is appeal or whatever. “Okay…?”

“Did you ever own a pair of ice skates, Leonard?”

Leonard nearly dropped the phone, and a nearby guard glanced in his direction. He gave the man a shaky smile, then turned his attention back to his sister.

“Did you… did you have those? In the other time?”

Lisa smiled and nodded, which caused a knife of fear to twist in Leonard’s heart. She wasn’t supposed to ever get involved, but he always had those available just in case she ever needed it. For self-defense or for enjoyment, not for the stuff he used his gun for. But he never was able to broach the topic, because it was always the risk that she’d want to use it for the same things he used his gun for.

If she was worried about bringing that up here, and was keeping it very light-handed with the referencing…

“Leonard, where are they?”

Hellblazer

Issue #26: The Avatar of Rot

Author: The_Vowellster

Arc: British Magician-American Vampire

Set: 93

The American South

The Rose Gold Club

“All because someone got impatient!” The fat man launched a crystal glass across the room and it shattered against the wall, blood trickled slowly down in red rivulets. He fixed his jacket, straightened his tie, then rubbed at his jowls. His face had gone red from anger and the minor exertion.

“It’s not the end, Reginald,” a much skinnier man in a three-piece suit and thin, round glasses said. “The matter simply,” he paused, “expedites some of our more long-term plans.” He took a sip from his own glass, flattened his oily hair, and waved at one of the buxom wait staff that sat on the periphery of their meetings, “Do the one thing we keep you lot around for and get Reginald a new glass.” She scurried away like a cockroach. Five other men at the table looked at each other and nodded sagely at the thin man’s words.

“That is the fucking problem Armand,” Reginald nearly shouted, the fat around his face quivering. “We plan in decades, centuries!” He gripped the table hard enough to make the wood creak. “Nothing should force us to expedite our plans! Now we have been thrust into a spotlight not of our own design.” The waitress returned with a fresh glass that Reginald snatched from the tray.

“It is not catastrophic,” Armand started to justify again, “we simply, accelerate some of our plans that were time-sensitive and delay those that aren’t.”

“You fool,” Reginald’s fangs started to expose themselves, “it is not merely the timing of our goals.” He took a long drink from his glass to try and calm down. “This has put vampires on the map on an unprecedented scale. Before this, we were simply a horror story for Halloween or smut for lonely women.” Reginald took his seat, “But now, Superman has killed some of ours with lasers from his face,” he slammed the table with both fists and made the glasses jump… and some of the members in their seats. “Now,” Reginald said, “please, try to reassure me. What if they send the Superman? Or the Batman or any of their other freaks to clean up what they missed?” The rest of the vampires shared nervous glances and then their eyes settled on Armand.

Armand let out a sigh, “If you’re that nervous,” he paused to let the word settle and show its true weight, “perhaps it would be best to go underground. After a century of sleep our problems will be long dead and vampires reduced to… did you say, ‘smut for lonely women?’” He let a contented smirk drift across his face. Now was not the moment to wrest control from Reginald. But, let the obese vampire take the fall once or twice and be deathly aware that his inevitable replacement was waiting in the wings for the most opportune moment to strike.

“No,” Reginald harrumphed and shifted his bulk, “no need for that. We can’t be seen as cowards.” Armand let his smirk widen to a full smile, his lips drawn thin.

“Perfect,” Armand made a brief note, placed it in his briefcase, then stood up. “I will get everything arranged.” He finished the glass, “Farewell gentleman, until next time.” Outside of their small meeting room the music from the club was deafening. That they had been reduced to this! Hiding out with filth and garbage. Lesser vampires had become their saviors. Only briefly, soon things would return to the way they should be. The sweat and press of all these human familiars made him want to vomit. It made him sick. But having such a willing food-source so close did make it easier. It also made it difficult to focus.

A man with long hair and a wide-brimmed hat pulled low over his eyes slammed his shoulder into Armand and continued on without slowing the slightest. The nerve of some of these new vampires. Traipsing about as if they owned the-wait. There was something different about that man. His smell, the swagger. He wasn’t some garden-variety vampire. Armand would deal with that later.

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

Skinner Sweet breathed deep. The mass of bodies. The stench of sweat. The undertones of fear. It was intoxicating. He’d never been a fan of these underground clubs. They were just places for chickenshit vampires to hide out and feel powerful. It disgusted him. Especially after whatever had started that failed-abortion of a world takeover. Things would have been even worse if it had been successful. All this time he’d been careful, only turning a handful of people over the course of a century. And then whatever the fuck had happened and suddenly thousands of people were being turned in hours! There was no way a plot like that could have ended anyway other than in failure.

One of the Carpathian vampires, timid little things really, bumped into him. Sweet barely registered it but the suit-and-tie vampire reeled away like he’d been thrown. He smiled. They’d summoned him to a little meeting of theirs. Probably so they could whine and moan about the recent vampire attacks and how they couldn’t hide anymore. The slimy, little creatures disgusted him, but they had their uses. If they could see past their own “long-term plans.” They had eyes and ears everywhere, exactly what he needed. And if they didn’t, he could just kill them all and be no worse off than he already was.

Sweet pushed through the door into the small conference room, “So this is what you’ve been reduced to?” Six men, vampires, sat around the table and sipped daintily at blood in champagne glasses served by barely dressed familiars.

“Gentlemen,” the fat one at the head of the table said like he was choking back bile, “I would like to introduce you to Skinner Sweet the, uh, American Vampire.”

“American Vampire,” one of the lessers at the table scoffed, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Skinner tilted the wide-brimmed hat back and smiled to show off his fangs, “that I’m a lot more deadly than you fucks.”

“Reginald,” the lesser vampire spoke up again, “you can’t expect us to try and work with this filth,” he slammed his hands on the table and stood up.

“Sit,” Skinner snarled, “down.” The other vampire waited a moment, then slowly took his seat. “Do I need to remind you that you invited me here!” Skinner let his teeth fully extend and his hands begin to shift into claws. Any time Carpathian vampires tried to organize a meeting with him they usually went exactly like this. He would antagonize them, they would try to intimidate him, and he would… well, they’d probably get to that point soon.

“Skinner,” the fat vampire started slowly, then was interrupted.

“Mister Sweet,” Skinner said through a toothy smirk.

Reginald paused and nearly spat the words out, “Mister Sweet. Due to recent… events, several of our plans have had to be moved up on the timeline. And we need your help.”

Skinner couldn’t help barking out a laugh, “You need my help with your plans? And, what if,” he leaned back in the chair, “I say no?”

“Skinner,” Reginald started, then paused after a glare from the American Vampire, “Mr. Sweet, I would remind you, this isn’t a joking matter. It’s deadly serious!”

“Good,” Skinner chuckled, “then I decline.” He pushed away from the table and made for the door.

“I told you we couldn’t rely on this filth,” the lesser vampire said in a vain attempt to sound intimidating.

“Perhaps you were right,” Reginald said through bared fangs, “I apologize Mr. Sweet, but you aren’t leaving this room alive.”

Skinner Sweet smiled and released his hand on the door handle, “Well, you can certainly try.” The talkative, whiny one was the first to make a play, he lunged across the table at Skinner, teeth and claws bared, screaming. The scream was probably some attempt at distracting Skinner, it didn’t work. The American Vampire grabbed both of the lesser vampire’s arms and smiled as he overpowered the other one. He ripped one arm off in a shower of gore, then the other. The lesser vampire mewled at his feet, begging for mercy, meanwhile the others had all stood, their own claws and fangs at the ready.

“Skinner,” Reginald said, voice quavering, “if you stop now we can sort this all out, you can leave alive.”

“Nah,” Skinner reached down, firmly grabbed the armless vampire and ripped his head from the body. “I think I’m good to stick around for a while. The rest of you will probably wind up like him,” Skinner said as he tossed the head to the side, “But you Reggie, I think I’ll keep you around.”

⚝⚝⚝⚝⚝

London

John Constantine’s Apartment

I really need to stop drinking like that. Mouth full of cotton, pounding behind the eyes, weariness in the bones. Well, that last part the alcohol might not be responsible for. Or the pounding. He opened an eye. No light sensitivity. Maybe I’m not actually hungover. The pounding came again, not from his head though, the front door. Who the bloody fuck could that be this earl-he looked at the clock next to his bed, ten in the morning. Fuck. John grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand and lit it quickly, then took a long drag. Relief flooded through his body. And then the pounding from the door came again.

“Calm yer tits,” John grumbled through his cigarette as he started a pot of coffee brewing. There was another knock at the door before John finally opened it, Buddy Baker, the Animal Man, stood there with two coffees.

“Goddammit John,” Buddy said and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him, “most people at least put some underwear on before they answer the door.” He put one of the coffees on the table and sipped from the other.

“Either I open the door,” John popped the lid on the offered coffee and gave the other man a sideways glance, “or I put pants on. You don’t get both. This isn’t one of those fancy coffees is it?”

“No John,” Buddy said, “everybody knows you hate coffee that costs more than fifty cents, or whatever it is in Bri-ish,” he said with his worst London accent. Or maybe his best, I don’t fuckin’ know.

“Thanks for the coffee then,” John took a drink. “So what brings you to London Buddy? Here to see the sights and just decided on a whim to stop in and check on an old friend?” John grimaced from the taste of the coffee, he wouldn’t have it any other way. I suppose I could put on some clothes, it is a touch chilly in here.

“John Constantine,” the deep baritone of Swamp Thing said as he emerged from the back room, “the Green requires… your assistance.” Fuck me, guess I’m not going back there yet.

“Uh huh,” John took another drink, not the first time the Avatar of Nature had just invited himself in. I really need to redo those fucking wards. “So I suppose Buddy Baker, you come representing the Red?”

Buddy nodded, “John, we wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t important.”

John took a sip of his coffee and nodded, “Oh, I understand that. But everything seems to be important nowadays don’t it. Some world ending crisis that only we can stop?” He took another pull off his cigarette, stamped it out, and lit a new one.

“John Constantine,” Swamp Thing said, “you have been… an ally to the… Green and Red… in the past, join… us again to combat… this new threat,” Swamp Thing moved across the room, leaving green patches wherever he stepped.

“Look, that’s all well and good,” John sipped at the truly god-awful coffee, “but I’m going to have to decline mates. I’ve got some busy work around the apartment to take care of, some cleaning, shite like that. And, as you can see I’m naked. So, kindly see yourselves to the door.”

“John,” Buddy said, “we think there’s a new Avatar of Rot. Honestly, we need all the help we can get.”

“Oh, I heard you the first time,” John said, “and my answer is still no.”

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Wonder Woman #75: Furious

<< | < | [>]

Author: Predaplant

Books: Wonder Woman

Arc: Season 3: Darkness

Set: 93

Recommended Reading: New Titans #31, New Titans #34 (To Be Released!)

It wasn’t a call that Diana was expecting, that was for sure.

Donna had told her in the past of an almost golem-like figure, a clone of herself, that the Titans had fought, that had an almost unhealthy obsession with Donna.

But Chicago and Gateway City were far apart, and Diana trusted the Titans enough to deal with threats in the Midwest, especially ones like the clone that Donna described. She had told Donna that if Donna needed her backup, she would be there, but she didn’t expect for the clone to arrive in Gateway City itself. It didn’t seem like a threat that she would have to face.

On the other hand, this golem, calling herself Fury, carrying the Golden Lasso of Truth that Diana had lost months prior and attempting to break into a high-security penitentiary? That was something that would drag Diana halfway across the world, if need be.

By the time that Diana arrived at Stonegate Penitentiary, the police had arrived and cordoned off a barrier to stop any more prisoners from escaping from the hole ripped in the wall.

The police stepped aside as Diana entered. The hole entered into a cell, and Diana noted the chalk markings on the floor. Looks like Fury had killed its inhabitant, whoever they were.

Diana whispered a prayer under her breath. May they find safe passage through the Wonder.

She made her way inside. There was a hole in the ground, piercing downwards towards the basement.

Previously, Diana had worried about something like this happening. Prisons breed such malcontent... back home on Themyscira, they had a much more active rehabilitation process. She tried to reach out and connect with those that she had sent to places like this, but they often spurned her advances.

She wondered how much more likely their successful rehabilitation would be, if they had been placed in an environment that actually respected their needs.

But there was no time to waste.

She dove into the hole.

The basement was fairly deep underground, but it looked like Fury had aimed to break into one of the prison’s ventilation shafts so she’d have to force less dirt out of the way.

Diana looked upwards from where the hole turned out, impressed. It would’ve taken even her quite a while to make a hole like this.

She heard a sound, and her head snapped down the hall, to its source.

It must be Donna, and that clone of hers. Fury, Diana suddenly remembered. She had taken Donna’s old name. Diana raced down the hall to confront them.

She rounded the corner to see Donna tied up in her Golden Lasso as Fury tightened the knots. As she looked up to see Diana, Fury smiled.

“There you are. I’ve wondered about you for a while, you know. The original. The goddess... or, as I hear now, the former goddess. The radical; the one that everybody either loves or hates. Are you going to fight me, then, just because I’m broken? Just because I’m dangerous?”

“I simply need you to disengage,” Diana spoke, stepping closer. She noticed Cheetah sitting in the corner, observing them with a small smile on her face.

Always another variable.

Diana made the decision to put her full attention on Fury. If Cheetah wanted to attack, she already could have.

“We can remove ourselves from this prison. We can figure out what you need; we can help you. If you know my reputation so well, then you know that I am dedicated to that ideal. Please.” Diana continued.

“She’s not going to listen to you,” Cheetah’s voice spoke from behind Diana, crackly and uncanny. “She has far too much on the line, here. She’s gone into that primal mode that us hunters know so well: fight or flight.”

“Will you shut up!?” Fury shouted. The echo rang through the grey concrete walls of the prison. “Your words do not define me. I can speak for myself. I can fight for myself.”

Cheetah chuckled. “That’s what I said... it’s all about fighting.”

Fury strode across the room towards Cheetah, but Diana intervened, grabbing Fury’s arm. Fury attempted to strike at Diana with her other arm, but Diana blocked it.

“Let me go!” Fury yelled, her words carrying the weight of all her anger, and tried to wrench her arm free.

Diana held tight.

Fury looked Diana deep in her eyes, frustrated. Suddenly, her gaze snapped to Donna, who had somehow managed to stand, lasso still tied tight around her.

“Fury... I don’t hate you. Honestly, I’m concerned for you, more than anything. With what I heard... about who you are... I doubt you’ve ever had a true home. I doubt you’ve ever been loved. And that scares me, because it means you don’t know what you want. But please... let me help you find it. We can work together.”

Fury’s eyes darted from Donna, to the Cheetah, to Diana, and back to Donna. “Stop trying to trick me!”

“I can’t trick you,” Donna said with a soft smile on her face. “I’m within the Golden Lasso of Truth. Believe me. Accept my feelings.”

With a sob that turned into a cry of anger, Fury punched Donna in the gut.

Donna stumbled backwards, the wind knocked out of her, and Diana immediately rushed forwards, grappling Fury.

Fury started to cry as she struggled to break free. “Let me go! Please! You... you can’t do this to me!”

She took some deep shuddering breaths, slowly regaining control of herself. “I thought you were supposed to be about freedom. Liberation. Why are you holding onto me so tightly? Please, let me go.”

Diana shifted, and Fury took the opportunity to break free. She stared at Diana with a rage in her eyes, but also a pain.

“You can’t care about me. Not after everything.”

Her eyes locked back onto the Cheetah. “It was you.”

Rushing over to the corner, Fury tried to grab Cheetah by the neck, but Cheetah swiftly dodged out of the way.

“You made them pity me with your story!” Fury called out, staring daggers at Cheetah.

“You can’t catch me that easily,” Cheetah chuckled, her voice guttural. “You do know the cheetahs are the fastest animals on Earth, right?”

Fury growled in rage, attempting to grab the Cheetah again, but she deftly stepped out of the way once more.

The Cheetah shook her head. “You divine plaything... stop trying to toy with me. You don’t understand the forces you’re playing with. We’re not all as broken as you are. Grow up.”

Diana used the time to untie Donna, and, curling up her lasso, placed it at her side once more. The two women turned to face Fury, still futilely trying to lay her hands on the Cheetah.

“You’re the ones toying with me!” Fury shouted at her. “You aren’t taking me seriously. Talking down to me... acting like I don’t matter... I don’t find it funny!”

Cheetah rolled her eyes. “You’re acting like a child.”

Noticing the freed Donna, Fury realized the truth; there was nothing more for her to accomplish here. She had lost.

She rushed for the exit, but Donna was there already to intercept her, extending the Blessing of Mercury to form a staff and trip her.

Fury tumbled as she hit the ground, but Diana used the opportunity to catch up with her. Lasso in hand, she slipped a loop over Fury’s head, and rapidly tied a knot to keep her from running.

“What do you want from us?” Diana asked her.

“I want you to let me go!” Fury yelled.

“I moreso mean on a deeper level. You’ve been observing my sister for years. What do you want from her?”

“I... I need to know that I don’t have to be a monster. I need to prove that to myself.” Fury forced out despite herself. “Leave me be! Let me go! You claim to care about me, and yet this magic is hurting me.”

“Leave Donna alone, then,” Diana told her. “You do that, and we can let you go.”

“I… I can try,” Fury said.

Diana loosened the lasso around Fury, and Fury took off towards the exit.

“You’re letting her go?” Donna asked.

“She’s been through a lot just now,” Diana explained. “We need to give her time to herself, to work things out. Maybe when we meet her next, she’ll have learned and grown.”

Cheetah laughed at them. “You’re far too naive. She’s going to go right back to her masters and become their servant once again. She’s a child; she needs that security.”

“Maybe so,” Diana countered. “”But we have to give her that chance.”

WWWWW

Fury emerged onto the surface, steaming at the humiliation she had faced. And, to add insult to injury, Wonder Woman had even reclaimed her lasso?

Her eyes narrowed as she saw a couple of men standing nearby, talking to the prison officers. They were Donna’s friends, her allies within the Titans… and they hadn’t noticed her yet.

She rushed towards the one with the red hair. He turned his head and his eyes widened, but it was a moment too late to reach for his bow. He skidded as they hit the ground, Fury on top.

Fury reached for his throat, attempting to choke him. He tried to fend her off, but he was just a mortal man, albeit a strong one. He stood no chance against her.

“Get off of him!” the other one of Donna’s friends called, the one with the purple eyes, as he tackled her, knocking her off of the first.

She looked up at him and chuckled. “You think you could stand against me? I’m just as strong as your friend.”

The one who tackled her shook his head. “No. Her true strength isn’t in how she fights, it’s in how she cares for us. That’s something you could never emulate.”

He looked at her, and smiled, and as she did, she noticed her skin starting to dry out and crack, almost feeling like it was going to flake off.

No. She wouldn’t let that happen. She would not let herself look like any more of a monster, any more of an abomination… not when she was already so hideous.

Turning on her heels, she dashed off across the street into the shadows of the nearby buildings.

Arsenal looked to Tempest. “Should we go after her?”

The other man nodded, stepping forward, ready to give chase.

“No,” Donna said, her voice carrying from inside the prison.

The two men turned to look at her, emerging from the hole in the side of the prison, with her sister a few steps behind her.

“Thank you for coming, but I was never in any real danger. I came here to get information, and I got it now,” Donna continued. “As for Fury… let her go. I think that maybe Diana and I managed to teach her something. Maybe she’ll leave us alone for now.”

“Are you sure?” Garth asked her. “She seemed pretty upset at us still.”

“Yeah…” Roy said, wincing as he stood up. “Probably would’ve killed me if Tempest here wasn’t so on the ball.”

“Tempest?” Donna asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m trying it out,” Garth explained. “New name. Thought you would know what that’s like.”

Donna nodded at him with a small smile. “I hope that was just a parting blow, Roy.”

“Lot of hoping for somebody as dangerous as her,” he grumbled.

“She’s somebody who’s never been given that benefit,” Donna explained. “If nobody ever trusted you, wouldn’t you want to lash out like that, too?”

Roy thought it over for a moment. Reluctantly, he sighed. “...Yeah.”

“Can we talk about things a bit more when we get back to the Tower?” Garth asked. “I’m worried about you.”

Donna took a deep breath, before nodding. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Then let’s go,” Roy said. “Not my idea of a fun Friday night, to be standing outside a jail in the dead of winter.”

The three of them took off together, Diana lingering behind.

Diana didn’t often have an opportunity to witness Donna with her teammates on the Titans… but it was clear that they cared about her, and that was part of what fuelled Donna to continue being the creative, compassionate person that she was.

Diana could only hope that Fury could find a place where she could feel at home as well, one where she could determine what her own future looked like.

<< | < | [>]

NEXT MONTH

Cheetah deals with the aftermath of Fury's attack, and grapples with where she wants her life to go in the future!

Coming March 15!

#Cyborg #56 - Bloody or Family

<<| <| >

Author: Commander_Z

Book: Cyborg

Arc: Time Out

Set: 93

###Part 1: Forbidden Knowledge

Victor Stone woke up in a cold sweat, then fell into a daze as his mind started to catch up with him. He saw himself talking with Waller, getting dinner with Nic and Sasha Bordeaux, their investigation of the Church of Blood… the feeling as he killed David Said with his own hands…

As those memories entered his mind, he felt his dinner threaten to leave and ran for the bathroom.

After a few minutes, his body felt better, but his mind didn’t.

‘I… I can’t believe I did that. That can’t be real… Right?’

He tried to shake off the feeling; it must’ve just been a weird dream. Just a very, very realistic dream that lingered in his mind. Very normal stuff.

He went over to the kitchen to make some breakfast and saw Nic already up.

“Hey. Weird question. You have a weirdly real dream last night too? Lots of people apparently did. It’s all over the internet,” Nic said.

“Uh yeah. Kinda trying to forget it, it really messed me up.”

“Really? That’s weird, I don’t really remember anything…Wait, just got a notification saying the Flash put out a press release?(Check out the Flash #93 for that one!) Gimme a sec to pull this up…”

“I’ve got it here too…”

The two of them were quiet for a few moments as they read through the letters. They said that an unknown speedster had managed to alter reality, but the Flashes managed to fix it. But, there was a small catch. Through some unknown means, people kept various amounts of memories from the other reality in what was called the “Metalhead Effect”.

Vic was the first to speak up. “So… it was… real?”

Nic frowned. “I guess? Emphasis on the ‘was’ though.”

“I…”

Vic paused.

‘She doesn’t remember anything bad that happened in that timeline. Is it really right of me to tell her about something that didn’t happen even if she was involved in it? Maybe telling her will convince her to do it? Or maybe by not telling her she won’t be aware of the dangers before it's too late?’

“You’ve got that “Vic’s thinking” look again.”

“Sorry. Just… I know something and I’m debating whether to share it or not.”

“Guess it’s not up to me, but I’d rather know than not.”

“Yeah. I… I can’t right now.”

Nic frowned. “Why not? What’s it about?”

“It’s about what happened in that other world. It might not matter, it might not affect anything… But if it did for the worse, it’d be disastrous. So… I can’t say yet.”

“Okay, I guess, that’s your right.”

“I… okay, how about this? There’s something I want to investigate first. Tonight, let’s go do it together. If it makes sense after that, I’ll tell you. If not, just forget about it, it won’t matter anyway.”

“Ummm… sure. Where are we investigating?”

“I’ll tell you tonight. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

###Part 2: Bar Talk

Vic snuck out of the apartment about a half an hour later. He needed some time to figure out just how to rationalize what he remembered. He was glad that he was still in Detroit since there was only one person he really would feel good talking to about this. Well, two, but his therapist was appointment only. Blue Evan’s bar was much more of a walk in kind of deal, but Vic called ahead to the blind old man since it wasn’t technically open for another couple hours. Blue was always happy to talk and invited him over.

Vic opened up the side door into the back of the bar and said, “Blue? You here?”

“In the bar, Vic!” He shouted back.

Vic meandered his way through the tight kitchen into the bar itself and saw Blue behind the counter, cleaning some already basically spotless glasses. Blue’s bar was old and worn but not in a distressing way, in much more of a well lived-in home kind of way.

“So, Vic, you wanted to talk?” The old bartender said.

“Yeah. You heard about that “Metalhead effect” and all that going on from the Flashes, right? What do you think about that?”

“Not much, honestly. When you get to be my age, you sorta gotta be willing to accept your unlived lives. And that timeline just feels like another unlived life that I sort of half remember thinking about.”

“Just another dream to you. Sounds nice.”

“Guessing you feel otherwise then.”

“Not exactly. But the me in that timeline did some bad things that I can’t really process.”

Blue shrugged. “But you’d never do that, right? So where’s the problem?”

“The problem is… the problem is what I remember doing, feeling. I remember the satisfaction and almost… ecstasy I errr… ,he felt, and that scares me. What if I got put in that situation? Would I make those choices?”

“No. We’re defined by the choices we’ve made and those that were made for us. That guy might have your name and some overlapping details, but he’s not any more you than I am. Think about it like this Vic. Say, instead of it being a radically different timeline, the only point of change was that you chose to go to college in New York instead of Michigan. You’d remember the friends you made there, the internship you got at a lab there, the hobbies you got into… If I held that guy up to you, he’d be sorta similar, but still extremely different. He’d have made tons of different choices and would do things differently from you in a bunch of small ways. Now think about the “you” that you remember, the one in that crazy different timeline. Is that “you” anything like you? Probably not.”

“I guess not. But it just felt so real.”

“Then take it as a warning. That “you” made some bad choices and you get to understand and learn from them.”

Vic paused. What Blue said made sense, but it didn’t make him feel much better.

“Thanks. I think I can work with that.”

“Anytime.”

“Actually… there was one other thing. Let’s say I remembered what another person did in that timeline, but they didn’t. But it was equally bad or even worse than what I did. Should they know?”

Blue paused for a moment, hesitating. He stalled for a moment by pouring himself a glass of water, then sliding another one to Vic.

After a few moments, he said, “Well, let me ask you Vic. Would you want to know?”

“Of course.”

“Even if you knew it was something bad?”

“Sure. But what if telling me made me want to do it, or somehow led me to doing it while trying to not to.”

“Then you’d probably have done it anyway. Look Vic, sometimes you just have to do things. Something like this… people are who they are, I think, and one bit of information isn’t going to suddenly turn you into a different person.”

Vic nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. But it’s just so easy to think that it could, y'know?”

“Sure. But people don’t do that. Change is gradual. Think about yourself. Has anything anyone ever told you made you do something radically different at the moment? No, probably not.”

“Yeah. Thanks Blue. I’ll tell her then. Thanks for the talk.”

“No problem. Tell your sister, “hi” for me after you tell her, okay?”

Vic was starting to walk to the door, but turned back to Blue.

“How’d you know?”

Blue smiled. “Call it an old man’s intuition. Besides, aren’t a lot of people I could say for sure you’d care about in this time and the other one. Just felt right.”

“...Makes sense. Thanks again, Blue.”

###Part 3: Blood is Thicker than… Blood?

“Alright, Cyborg, want to tell me what we’re doing here?”

Cyborg and the Thespian crouched the roof of a short building just across the street from a large, old skyscraper. In the other timeline, it was the Church of Blood’s Detroit headquarters. Here, it looked like it had been abandoned for years. The front doors and ground level windows were boarded up and the beautiful art deco features of the outside had been chipped and faded with time.

“In the other timeline, the Church of Blood operated out of here. They helped the poor, but they also wanted to kill pretty much everyone who would get in their way to what they believed a better future was. I want to make sure that they’re not here in this timeline. I can’t search every building in the city for them, and I haven’t heard or seen anything about them being around. But I want to make sure.”

Nic frowned. “I think I’m starting to get a picture of what happened in the other time. My memories are hazy, but we were a part of it, weren’t we?”

“Yeah. Both of us were messed up in that timeline and we did some bad things. I want to make sure that doesn’t happen here, either with us or someone else.”

“So why not tell me? You know me. Whatever that version of me did, I’d never.”

“Sure, I know. I guess… I just hoped I’d keep you from knowing. It’s some pretty nasty stuff. Be thankful you don’t remember.”

“Sorta. But I need to know.”

“Look, I’ll tell you. Promise. I just want to make sure things are okay first.”

“What, you think that if you tell me what happened there I’ll just wake up and join them? Don’t be an idiot.”

“I… I know. But - ”

A loud crash came from inside the building across the street.

VIc and Nic looked at each other, concerned.

“Fine, it can wait. Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”

⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️

The Stones found their way into the building through the second story, effortlessly scaling in through one of the many broken windows. The second floor was long abandoned, stacks of dusty cubicle walls sat in a pile in one of the corners with a herd of half broken rolling chairs hovering around them like people huddling around a fire.

A thick layer of dust covered everything from the floor to the walls to air itself, making Vic cough as he walked in. There was no sign that anyone had been here in the past decade.

Vic looked around the rest of the room, trying to get his bearings.

“Two, err three things I want to see here. First, there was a hidden passage to a basement in the elevator. I’ll take a look at that. Second, there were some offices a couple floors up from here that the public facing part of the Church used. Third, whatever that noise was. Which do you want to look into?”

“I’ll grab the offices. Might be something interesting there but I feel like the noise is probably disappointing.”

Vic nodded then explained where the offices were in the other timeline before splitting off towards the elevators. The doors were closed tightly and he absent mindedly pressed the button to go down. A moment later, he realized that the place obviously doesn’t have power anymore and started to think of another way.

He tried to pry open the elevator doors and with a crack, they slid open, revealing the open elevator shaft below. From there, he saw the source of the noise immediately. The cables to the left elevator had snapped, the car landing all the way at the bottom of the shaft.

'Well, that's two answers in one. If the car fell down on the bottom without going down to the underground area, then it probably doesn't exist in this time. And if it was a door or something that didn't open up until you put in the code, I can't imagine it'd be able to take the impact from the elevator..'

Satisfied, Vic turned around and headed upstairs to look for Nic. He found her in the level that was the main offices that he and Sasha investigate. The room was wide and along edges were offices for each of the senior members of the Church, at least in his memories. Here, they all looked empty as far as he could tell from the doorway.

Nic was searching through a filing cabinet in one of the closest offices when Vic walked in. He knocked gently on the wall and said," Finding anything?"

"Nothing. If there's anyone here, Vic, they've hidden their tracks well."

Vic let out a sigh of relief. "Good. I think this place is clean.The noise was an elevator car falling to the ground level after the cable snapped. If the cult exists, they're not anywhere near as big as they were in the other time, or at least not here."

"So... you gonna tell me what happened during it now? There's no Church of Blood here, we're safe."

"Fine. But you sure you want to know this? You won't be able to unlearn it.”

“And neither can you. Might as well know together, right?”

“Okay. You’re going to want to sit down for this.”

Nic sat on the ground, leaning against one of the filing cabinets while Vic sat against the wall, until a piece of wallpaper unrolled onto his head. He scooched a couple feet to the side and began.

“So over there it’s true that we were both in the Church of Blood, but I was only there at the very end. You were its leader. I don’t know all the details, but you had killed hundreds to provide blood to your god in exchange for power. It gave you powers similar to what you have now, but also some sort of blood magic. You used them to help some people, but also killed many others. I was a secret agent for the government sent to take you down but after my partner and I fought you and won, she wanted to kill you but I couldn’t let you die. So we knocked her out, then I went back to the agency, killed everyone there and joined you to help you rule as Sister Blood and grow the cult.”

Vic took a deep breath. “And now you know.”

Nic’s eyes grew wide as her face grew into a deep frown. “I… I did that?”

“No. Not you and not me. But a you did it.”

Nic’s mind was racing and she sat in silence.

“... So why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a reason that makes sense. It just… I couldn’t. I wanted to do whatever I could to make sure that we don’t end up like that. And I thought that if the cult was here, you’d drop everything and join them. Maybe I thought that I could somehow save you from that fate….”

“And what about you? Should I be worried that you’d follow me again, killing in my name?”

“No. I could never. At least that’s what I want to think. But if it really came down to it… Can any of us really say how we’d act? Their ideas aren’t insane, this world is beyond messed up. And if the situation happened again and it was either you die or I help you… I… I don’t know what I’d do. I really, really want to believe I could never be him… But I am him.”

“No, you’re not. You are a him. God, grammar gets hard with alternate timelines. Listen, if I start killing people, I’ve clearly gone insane or something. I’d want you to take me down, whatever it takes. Yeah, the world’s messed up and yeah it needs to change, but a world built on blood will only lead to more blood. And you know that too.”

“Yeah. And if I ever went evil, I’d want you to take me down too. Crazy that that’s something that’s on the table, huh?”

They laughed.

“Not very likely though. Besides, with your track record, you could probably talk me down anyway! The other you didn’t have that going for him, he was just some government puppet,” Nic said.

“Ha. Three out of… who knows how many foes made into… not enemies isn’t a great track record.”

Nic shrugged. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. No one’s perfect. As long as they’re alive, they can always change. Keeping them from harming others or themselves until they get to that day is the job.”

Vic nodded at that, but didn’t follow up. He just sat in the old room in silence, wondering if the Cult was out there or if it was just a remnant of that timeline. He hoped that they were, but knew deep down that they wouldn’t be. He had hoped to find them here and take them out now, but without finding them here… They can only fester and grow.

But Vic shook that off. He’d take care of them once they showed their faces. He couldn’t be everywhere.

He stood up and brushed the dust off. “Ready to go?”

Nic nodded and jumped up. “Yeah. Vic, I know the odds of something like this happening again are hopefully… basically zero, but if it does… Just tell me, okay? I’d tell you.”

“Promise. Actually, I’ll do you one better. Next time I need a hand… I won’t try and do it alone. Since you’re on campus now… Might be time to do some team ups again.”

“Hah. Just try not to get in my way.”

“That’s my line. You don’t have any idea what kinda stuff I’ve gotten up to in college.”

Nic laughed. “And trust me, I never ever want to know. Some stuff is best left unsaid.”

Vic frowned then laughed along. “You know that’s not what I meant but now that you mention it. Just before finals started I met this girl at a bar and took her back to my room and…”

“Vic, if you continue telling that story, I’m turning evil and killing you now.”

He stopped telling the story but couldn’t stop laughing.

⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️ ⚙️

Later that night…

Nic Stone closed her bedroom door, her costume hidden away in a backpack. Not that Vic would ever check it, but as they walked home in civilian gear, she wondered how she’d defend herself if he did and he found it. She opened up the bag and pulled out her boots.

Before Vic had gotten up to the room with her, she had found one small bit of evidence. In the back corner, one room had a noticeable lack of dust and a printer in it. Like the rest of the building, it had no power, but between it and the wall was a single piece of paper: a pamphlet for the Church of Blood. She hid it in her boot, knowing if they had found anything here, Vic never would have told her what happened.

‘I’ll tell Vic when the time is right. Vic’s clearly not able to think objectively on this one; he’d be too worried making sure that things didn’t go the way they did in that other timeline to think or fight straight. Yeah, this is just to keep him in a good place…He doesn’t need to know yet. And if anything starts to look like a real threat… I’ll tell him. Promise.’

But some part of Nic, deep down, was just curious. What could’ve convinced her other self to want to join up, then lead them? She’d never get those answers with Vic investigating with her.

She pulled out the pamphlet and flipped it open.

“Questions? Interested in learning more? Send us an email at…”

Nic pulled out her phone and began to type.

<<| <| >

Author: FrostFireFive

<< | < | > | >>

Book: Batman

Arc: Time Out

Set: 91

KACHOOOM!

The First National Gotham Bank was in flames as man dressed in a fine tuxedo and red cloak exited the fire with several goons behind him. No one could see his face behind the featureless ruby red helmet that obscured whoever the leader of the Red Hood gang was. He looked down at his watch, three minutes to midnight, and everything was finally going right.

“I thought you said you found us a ride!” One of the Red Hood gang members said as he struggled to carry one of the larger bags filled with bearer bonds.

“Shut up man, you know the boss has a plan,” Another one of the gang said. “But seriously where’s the car?”

“Car? When did I ever say car?” The Red Hood smiled as the sounds of a helicopter could be heard above. He had managed to secure Nygma’s services for this one. For someone who loved stupid puzzles, he could provide logistics in a way the other brokers in New Gotham. Ropes quickly fell down from the copter to pull the rest of the gang up and into the sky, away from prying eyes. “Only the best for all of you.”

“Nice,” One of the goons said as they grabbed the rope. “Supprised the Bat isn’t here yet. You’d think she’d noticed we blew a hole in the freakin’ First National.”

“She’s busy playing with a distraction I hired. Turns out fighting against a supposed crypto-fascist government requires money. And Peacemaker is a bull in a china shop compared to others,” Red Hood explained. “Besides, the Bat knows not to mess with me. Not after what I did to Gordon.”

“Heard he’s still breathing through a straw. And missing a leg. Did you really have to feed him to the sharks?” Another goon said as he strapped herself in.

“He was getting too close to my identity. And our strength is our secrets. They get out and we’re all just one big…joke,” The Red Hood leader explained. “Now let's get out of here and discuss shares on the ride.”

“On it boss,” One of the goons said as the four members clicked in and began moving upwards into the helicopter. The Red Hood waited a moment as the members of his gang rose twenty feet in the air the sound of knives cutting through the air could be heard as each rope snapped from the helicopter and the sound of cracking bone could be heard as the gang fell to the ground.

As they withered in pain, the Red Hood turned and saw a familiar grey and blue figure walk towards him in the rain. The yellow symbol glowed, shining a bat onto the Red Hood. His timing was off after all as Batwoman stood before him.

“You know you didn’t need to break their legs,” The Red Hood explained as he pulled out two red pistols. “You make a dramatic enough entrance as is.”

“And let you have the manpower advantage? Not a chance,” Batwoman explained as she held small batarangs in between her knuckles. Peacemaker had already given her trouble tonight, taking Wayne Medical hostage with her in it. Luckily he had a glass jaw, but still, the Dark Knight hated distractions, not when there were more important things to take care of.

“Well, no one ever said you never thought things through,” the Red Hood mumbled as he shot at Batwoman, his semi automatic pistols sending a barrage of bullets towards New Gotham’s savior.

Quickly, Batwoman flared her cape up as the bullets bounced off of them. Wayne Medical’s recent purchase of armored fabric for hospitals in war torn countries had found another use here in the states. As the bullets dropped to the ground, the Red Hood sprinted towards her, knife in hand as he sliced through the fabric of the cape and laid a solid punch to her stomach, sending her back winded.

“Clever cape, but one that can be cut if you know the right people, and have the right blade,” The Red Hood explained. “See Batwoman, you, much like the former two legged commissioner have been in my way for far too long. So I’ve decided to clean the house before finally getting some rest on a sandy beach.”

“All this destruction, maiming, and madness…was for you to retire?” Batwoman asked. “You’re insane!”

“No, just a realist. And frankly my dear, you don’t interest me at all,” The Red Hood said as he sliced the yellow oval of Batwoman’s suit, the knife crafted from some Atlantean/Kryptonian hybrid metal provided by Lawton.

“I didn’t know it was a popularity contest,” Batwoman mumbled. She looked at the Red Hood, he was well equipped, smart, and clearly prepared for this fight. But he had never felt the pain Batwoman had all those years ago, and how Martha Wayne forged herself through long nights cleaning up Gotham, with only Al’s training to begin with. He didn’t understand just what Martha Wayne had sacrificed to get here.

Quickly she got up and took a deep breath. The knife made the Red Hood confident, as if he was invincible because he had the right tool, but every cut he made left him open. And judging by the protective headgear, odds were he was protecting a glass jaw.

He kept slicing, tearing the body armor that protected Batwoman, but she didn’t flinch, even as the blood poured down.

“Why won’t you fall! I’ve cut you to swiss cheese at this point! Do something! Do anything! Make this a chal-”

KRACK!

Batwoman swung with a right hook, shattering the Red Hood’s helmet and sending him towards the ground. His brown hair and brilliant green eyes. Batwoman picked him up and looked at him for a moment. For a man who spent so much time trying to hide his identity, Batwoman couldn’t even place his face, he was just some guy, and no longer worth the attention as the police sirens could be heard. It was time to go back home, her work was done here.

…

The Gotham cemetery was well maintained for a site on the outskirts of town. The patrons of New Gotham had made sure that their dead would be memorialized in tombs built from stone. In a city of neon and glass, this was one of the few places that clung to tradition, as if it didn’t know the Gotham it memorialized had been dead and buried for years.

Tim Drake enjoyed the graveyard shift. Compared to the rest of his peers, he loved the quiet and the history that surrounded him. He may have fallen asleep in his first GU class because of the late hours, but he felt comfortable here. His peers were worried about the internship or club meetings, but Tim found it hard to care. He got good grades, he was already ahead in his programming final project. The trouble was he didn’t have a fire or passion for anything. And it was so easy to feel alone.

His flashlight illuminated the limestone and marble graves, the names of Dagget, Copplepot, even Beaumont told the story of Gotham and how it had fell. But as Drake’s flashlight bounced around, the light reflected back towards him, blinding him for a moment. Even after six months on the job he always forgot the large obsidian grave.

Quietly he moved to it, his hands tracing over the innate carving, done by one of the last stonecutters who made Gotham their home.

“Wayne,” Tim said as he looked at the markings.

Most of the graves in the cemetery usually had dirt or dust covering them, but the Wayne’s grave was pristine. The heavy and deep cuts of stone indicated that Thomas and Bruce had made this place their home. Tim had heard about them, everyone in New Gotham had, but they were distant, martyrs more than people at this point. And maybe that was for the best, without losing the heart of the Wayne family, maybe things would have been worse.

As Tim watched over the grave he could have sworn he had heard footsteps. Quiet steps along the gravel paths. But this was New Gotham, and it was supposed to be safe.

SHINK

Tim Drake didn’t feel the blade go through the heart as he dropped to the ground. A band of ninjas dressed in purple and blue armor moved from the shadows. Two of them had shovels and began digging at the ground. One of the other ninja’s pulled the communicator from their belt and spoke clearly as the rain began to fall.

“We have the body. We will return soon.”

…

“Ow,” Martha Wayne said as she stitched her own wounds in the mirror. The penthouse suite in Wayne Tower was considered once the place to be to bump elbows with Gotham’s high society. It was a simpler time, with Thomas regalling people with tales of his work in the DA’s office. Putting away Boss Thorne and Marroni had made him a hero in so many people’s eyes. And Martha, in a resplendent gown holding a smaller gathering, explaining the importance of affordable medical supplies and treatments. Thomas protected the people, but Martha wanted to help them.

It was a promise she had kept for thirty years at this point. After the alley it was all she had at this point. With the press using her tragedy, her Bruce, to spur on an era of supposed peace. Pax Gothana it had been called. The biggest public works, crime, and social program reform occurred because of the influence Martha had wielded. She could have been Mayor, even a Senator at this point. But that was Thomas’ dream, not hers. And that was beyond the fact that someone had to protect this New Gotham from the shadows.

But Martha Wayne wasn’t getting any younger, at 63, it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the signs of her slowing down. Someone like the Red Hood couldn’t even slice the Batwoman when she was at her peak, she had taken down the Mad Monk, Hugo Strange, even The Charlatan.

“You know, trying to stitch yourself is frowned upon. Even with someone with your medical knowledge,” A voice said.

Martha turned around to see a familiar face. His hair was greyer than the last time they had met, but she recognized the smile and confidence of Al Pennyworth, her last light of yesteryear.

“Yeah, and a butler shouldn’t be wearing a teal shirt,” Martha responded.

“You’re my partner, not my boss, you made that very clear when you shuttered the manor,” Al explained as he looked over Martha’s body. The blood on her costume’s top indicated another rough night. “Take that off before you stitch your costume to your own skin.”

“That’s a bad thing?” Martha joked. “Would save me time having to duck out of meetings. And make me virtually bullet proof.”

“And have no life,” Al responded as Martha slid off the top of her suit, revealing a black sports bra and years of scars that never properly healed. Most people wondered why Martha Wayne had stopped going to most of the galas Wayne Medical had done to keep New Gotham going. But no make up could hide the cost of that peace on Martha’s body. “It wouldn’t kill you to find some help, or a partner.”

“It’s my burden Al,” Martha explained. “What kind of person would I be if I dragged someone else into this life. After Thomas…after Bruce, what kind of person would I be if I dragged someone into this life.”

“And I’m saying you’re getting too old for this Marty,” Al responded. “You’ve saved this city, what more could you possibly want?” He drew closer, peering through Martha’s brown eyes. Even now, after all these years they could pierce through Pennyworth’s soul.

“You know what I want,” Martha said as she looked away.

“I know,” Al said as he looked to the ground, he had hoped since he had been sent on this mission that Martha would have healed enough to call it off. But some wounds never truly heal. “And I came back to tell you I lost track of them in the sahara. After your confrontation with the Al Ghuls’ they’ve run to ground. And no one has heard a peep from Ra’s or his daughter.”

“Which on-” Martha began before the familiar blue light shone in the sky. The peace needed to be kept. “Al, I need to go. Do you mind providing intel from here?”

“Is the computer where it always is?” Al asked.

“It always is,” Martha said with a smile, knowing that even now, she still had something to fight for.

…

“I wanna make sure everyone clears the area,” Doctor Harleen Quinzel said as the NGCPD circled the graveyard. She was a profiler for the super criminals that had appeared since the Batwoman had put away that initial batch. It was a decent gig, one where Harleen could make sure she did a little good. But with Gordon still in the hospital, Harleen was tasked with handling the super crime of the city.

She looked at the scene wondering how New Gotham, a city of such promise, wonder, could still have people in the dirt, the falling rain couldn’t wash away what the profiler saw on such a daily basis.

“Doctor,” Batwoman said as she emerged from the shadows.

“You know ya losing your touch? I noticed you by that big angel. Why do people think ya needed a giant monument to honor them. It’s the memories that matter,” Harleen explained.

“What happened here?” Batwoman asked.

“Oh standard Gotham night,” Harleen began.

“Don’t you mean New Gotham?” Batwoman asked.

“The place never really changes, new or old, Gotham is always going to be Gotham. With weird shit like this always happening,” Harleen explained. “Poor kid got killed by ninjas. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”

“Ninjas?” Batwoman asked.

“Yeah, apparently the same kind that hunted you, what, two years ago? Their leader was Demon’s Head. You told Gordon you took care of him, didn’t ya.”

“I did,” Batwoman explained. Ra’s Al Ghul had came to Gotham to make Martha his bride, believing with her resources and sense of honor and justice. And while Martha was tempted, she had found new love, even if they didn’t want to admit it. In the fight over the Gotham Observatory, Ra’s had been killed, and his body placed in cold storage. It couldn’t have been him leading his armies anymore.

“Well ya didn’t, I got one dead kid and another’s missing body here. So tell me, what do you think?”

“Missing body?” Batwoman asked.

“Ya, those crazy jerks just dug up Bruce Wayne, can ya believe it? Kid did nothing wrong, and a bunch of losers in pajamas took his body. Ya think ol; Marty is going to take that well?”

Doctor Quinnzel turned around to see nobody behind her. Nothing but the grove of graves.

“Guess she still got it,” Quinnzel smiled as she went to coordinate the police, somewhere, justice would be found.

…

The ninjas made their way through the dessert, the sand whipping into their face as four of them carried a casket through the heat and slippery terrain. For many initiates crossing the harsh and bitter lands was a rite of passage, a way to prove to the Demon’s Head that they and they alone would protect their interests.

Hours passed, and as the dessert became cold, no man stopped. The Demon’s Head wanted this to be done quickly, so much time had passed since they had seen their beloved. When the heart is incomplete, nothing else matters. The acolytes who carried the body understood this. Their heart believed in the demon and they believed in them.

After a long time they arrived in a temple carved into the sand, the large sculptures of the demon were faded, the face cracked, and the colors long since drained of their vibrant hue when the Demon’s Head first arrived to make his oasis. As they entered, they could see their mistress.

“Were you successful?” A woman asked asked as they lowered the casket. One of the larger ninja’s bowed before the Demon’s Head. Her purple armor shined against the dull and drab sandstone.

“Yes mistress,” The ninja responded. “What will you do with the boy?”

“I will grant the detective her greatest wish,” Nysa Al Ghul. “And then take everything from her.”

NEXT: Time Out Continues As Martha Wayne Takes on Nysa Al Ghul! But Why Will This Crusade Send Ripples to the Real Timeline and Bruce Wayne?!

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##Superman #93 - Growing Family

<< | < | >

Author: MajorParadox

Book: Superman

Arc: Heritage

Set: 93

###Plans

Phantom Zone

Faora entered the chamber, drenched in sweat to find Zod still working on the exit terminal, their young son Lor beside him. Zod had been spending most of his time there since Kal-El was last in the Phantom Zone (Superman #60).

“Dru,” said Faora, “They’re back at the front entrance and almost broken through the barricade.”

Zod stood up, huffing his breath. “I’m on my way.”

Faora nodded and returned the way she came.

Zod put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Lor,” he said. “Take cover like we practiced.”

“I can help,” said Lor, his eyes never losing their determination. “Isn’t that why I’ve been training?”

“This isn’t like my upbringing on Argo,” Zod explained. “We don’t need to risk your life unnecessarily. Now do as I say.”

Lor sighed and ran away as Zod made his way to the front barricade, picking up his spear on the way. It had metal components affixed near the top. He tapped a button and the tip started sparking.

“Report,” Zod order upon reaching the others. They were lined up with their spears, ready to attack as large booms echoes the area. The barricaded entrance trembled as rocks and equipment shuffled.

“They’ll break through any moment now,” Faora stated.

Non, the largest of them grunted. While he wasn’t able to talk, everyone knew what he meant. It was time to fight.

A loud crash exploded the barricade and several phantoms flew inside as possessed Phantom Zone residents dug their way through.

“Attack!” Zod ordered as he swung his spear upward, sending sparks flying that scattered the incoming phantoms. Several other Argonians followed his lead.

Faora, Non, and the rest rushed toward the incoming attackers, quickly taking them out with blows to the head and spears to the chests.

It was going better than expected. The phantoms kept their distance and the attackers were falling quickly. Their numbers had dwindled lately, they couldn’t afford to lose any more. At first, Jor-El’s hologram had provided them with special pendants that could free them of their possessions. But those only worked so long. Being possessed by a phantom had become a death sentence.

But that wouldn’t happen this time. Zod wouldn’t allow it. They managed to plug most of the holes in their barricade with their previously possessed fallen while herding the phantoms outside. It would take a lot of work to refortify everything, but they were almost home-free. That is until a single phantom swerved around to the edges of the room.

“Stop that phantom!” Zod yelled as he saw the face of his son standing by the door with a spear twice his size in his hands.

“Lor, no!” cried Faora.

The phantom engulfed Lor and he dropped the spear.

Faora and Zod approached their son slowly.

“You won’t harm this one,” Lor said, in a deeper voice than normal.

“Let my son go now!” Zod shouted, his face trembling with every syllable.

“He is of no use to you,” Faora added.

“On the contrary,” said the phantom. “It will allow us to have a civil conversation.”

“Who are you?” asked Faora.

“And what do you want?” Zod added.

“I’m the first prisoner of this place,” the phantom explained. “My name is Jax-Ur.”

Queensland Park, Metropolis

Jon ran around the island as Lois and Clark checked out the kitchen. Their real estate agent stood by the fridge watching them.

“This is much bigger than what we have today,” said Lois.

“That’s a good thing,” said Clark, hinting toward Lois’ belly. They’d been putting it off for too long, she was already approaching the third trimester. “We’ll need the space.”

“Yeah,” said Lois. “But Queensland Park? This is the suburbs.”

“I hate that word,” said their agent, Chelsea. “This can’t even be considered a suburb, we’re only a bridge away from New Troy.”

“The commute shouldn’t be too bad,” Clark added.

“Maybe for you,” Lois mumbled.

“I’ve heard it’s a pleasant drive over the bridge,” said Chelsea.

“How pleasant can be when stuck in traffic?” asked Lois. “And what is this? Are you all ganging up on me?” She leaned down to catch Jon mid-lap. “What do you think Jon Jon?”

The boy just shrugged and went back to his circles.

“Would you like to see the bedrooms?” Chelsea asked.

Jon stopped running and stumbled a bit. “Whoa,” he said. “I’m dizzy.”

Everyone walked upstairs and something caught Jon’s eyes on the door to the bedroom on the front-right. “Wow,” he said, staring down the Superman poster, which must have been left by the previous inhabitant of that room. “Can this be my room?”

“There’s four bedrooms,” said Clark, pointing all around. “Three up here. One for us, one for Jon, and one for the baby. And we can make an office out of the downstairs one.”

“A home office would be useful,” said Lois. “We could even hybrid our time between here and the Planet.”

“Now you’re thinking!” Chelsea agreed, getting an uneasy stare from Lois.

Clark walked toward the primary bedroom and motioned Lois over. “Do you see that?” he asked, pointing toward the doors on the far wall.

“Okay, the balcony in our bedroom is nice,” she agreed. “Not quite the view of the city we had before, though.

Clark walked Lois over and opened the double wooden doors to reveal the giant backyard.

“Okay, that’s pretty great,” said Lois. “Jon will love it.”

“Krypto will love it too,” Clark added.

“The whole world is Krypto’s backyard,” Lois teased as her husband’s face tensed up. “What is it?” she asked.

“Trouble downtown,” said Clark.

“Go,” said Lois, kissing Clark on the cheek. “I’ll distract Chelsea.”

Lois went back inside, closing the door. “Clark had an important call,” she told the agent. “He may be a bit. Show me the rest of the upstairs?”

Clark scanned around, pleased by the lack of possible onlookers or cameras. It was much easier to disappear than in the heart of the city.

Downtown Metropolis

Moments Later

Clark couldn’t believe his eyes as he flew toward downtown. There was a man in a giant silver tank with a glass cover, mechanical arms, and machine guns built into the front. It was barreling down the street destroying cars and sending bystanders into a panic.

Clark fired his heat vision at one of the machine guns, but it kept on firing. What was it made out of? He flew down and bent the barrel into a circle, moving to the other side to do the same.

“Stop,” Clark ordered as the tank kept slowly creeping toward him.

“You’re no match for my machinery, Superman!” the short man with a bowl cut yelled from the behind the glass. He flipped some switches and moved some levers, bringing the mechanical arms to life.

Clark smashed his fist against the glass and it barely cracked.

“You’ll have to do better than that!” the man taunted, smacking the Man of Steel away with one of the arms. “Today, Thaddeus Killgrave will go down as the man who killed Superman!”

Killgrave rolled the tank toward the area of the street where Superman landed. He heard a noise from behind him and he turned around to find the hero tapping the glass.

“You wouldn’t be the first to try,” said Clark before punching through the glass.

Killgrave panicked and flailed the tank’s arms around, which Clark expertly avoided. He was reaching inside to grab him, but Killgrave tapped a button, and a large flash blinded Clark. The tank backed up, smacking him on the head before moving forward again and then swiveling around to be face-to-face with his adversary.

Clark moved in as the arms attacked him again, tying him up. He tried to break them apart, but they crushed him tighter.

Killgrave laughed. “I got you now, superhero!”

###Altering Course

Phantom Zone

“Jax-Ur?” Zod asked the phantom in his son’s body.

“I heard you blew up one of Krypton’s moons,” asked one of Zod’s men. “Is that true?”

“Not intentionally,” said Jax. “I was attempting to develop interstellar travel, which was forbidden. They attempted to shoot down my prototype, but all they managed to do was veer it off course. I was easy to blame me, though.”

“What do you want?” asked Zod. “I will not ask again.”

“I’ve observed your attempts to escape this… prison,” Jax explained. “I can help.”

Faora stepped next to her husband. “He is knowledgable in science,” she said. “Which is a skill lacking in our ranks.”

“Faora is right,” said Jax. “If I wasn’t known as Krypton’s Greatest Criminal, I could have been known as Krypton’s Most Accomplished Scientist.”

“Before we go any further,” said Zod. “Leave our son’s body.”

“Now,” Faora added.

Jax looked around the room, Non’s hulking stature catching his eye. Non grunted and looked at Zod, who nodded back at him.

Jax-Ur’s phantom left Lor-Zod’s body quickly floating over to Non, taking over his body instead.

Faora took Lor into her arms but the boy just stared at Non, wondering what he was going to next.

“Urgh,” Jax said, clearing Non’s throat. “No wonder this one doesn’t talk,” he continued, his voice growly and distorted. “Now, take me to the exit terminal.”

“Jax-Ur cannot be trusted,” said Jor-El’s hologram, appearing once they reached the chamber.

“Fascinating,” said Jax. “A simulation of Jor-El with artificial intelligence.”

“I’m much more than that,” said Jor-El. “I am the living embodiment of him from a short time before he died. For all intents and purposes, I am Jor-El.“

“Well, Jor-El,” said Jax. “Maybe I could use your help.”

Jor-El’s translucent eyes stared into Jax’s. “I will never help you,” he said.

Downtown Metropolis

Killgrave tightened the mechanical arms around Superman. “Once I finish the job,” he said, “I’ll be able to charge whatever I want for my tech. It’s powerful enough to kill Superman!”

“Y-you’re doing this as a sales pitch?” Clark struggled to say. “Does your work not speak for itself?”

“There’s so much you don’t know,” said Killgrave. “Who do you think modified all that Apokoliptian tech that hit the streets?”

“You worked for Intergang?” asked Clark.

“Yes, worked,” Killgrave stressed. “You took Intergang down and cut off our supply. But I finally adapted everything I learned so I could build Killgrave Tech without it!”

Clark pulled deep down and stretched out his arms, breaking the mechanical ones apart into shards of metal. “Thanks for explaining,” he said, smiling.

“Y-you were playing possum?” Killgrave asked, his eyes furious with rage. “That’s not fair!”

Clark winked before dropping down and placing his hands under the tank’s treads. He lifted upward and toppled the vehicle until it landed upside down. Killgrave fell out of his seat to the glass covering below him.

“All those smarts and no seatbelt?” asked Clark, kneeling to drag him out. He walked him over to one of the police cars that had arrived on the scene. “Don’t forget to buckle up, Theodore.”

Queensland Park, Metropolis

“I can put my bed here,” said Jon, excitingly planning the layout of his new room. “That way I can look out the window if I’m bored. Also, maybe I can get my own TV? And we can put that over ‘dere.”

“Slow down,” laughed Lois. “I take it this means you want to move here?”

“Yeah!” Jon cheered. “Also, maybe I can put my Legos over ‘dere.”

“Sounds like he’s on board,” said Chelsea.

Lois still wasn’t fully convinced. “Let me see the other bedroom up here again,” she said.

They walked down the hall and entered what would be the new baby’s room. Lois imagined the crib and baby wallpaper and couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t bother thinking where the changing table would go. Clark could imagine that when he got back if he wanted.

“This is a motivated seller,” Chelsea explained. “So we could have a quick closing and get you in here within a month.”

“Ooh,” said Jon. “My birthday party can be here!”

Clark walked into the room after flying back to the balcony. “That would be great,” he said, moving next to his wife. “What do you think, Lois? We can talk about it more in private if you want.”

Lois shook her head. “No, let’s do it,” she said, getting cheers from Jon and Chelsea.

“That’s great!” said Chelsea. “I’ll draw up the paperwork for the offer,” she added walking out of the room.

“We’re getting da’ house?” asked Jon.

“We’re getting the house,” Lois repeat and they all cheered.

###Moves

Queensland Park, Metropolis

The Next Month

Jon was running around the living room with his party guests. He had invited kids from his old and new school, so he told everyone he had twice the friends. Clark was hoping he’d never lose that optimism.

Clark was in the kitchen with some of the grownup guests. Bruce and Selina approached.

“Great house,” said Bruce, sipping a glass of wine.

“It could use a housecat, though,” Selina added.

“We’re more dog people,” said Clark, immediately realizing how it sounded, saying that to Catwoman. “Er, that is-”

“It’s okay, Kent,” said Selina, snickering. “I know what you meant.”

“Jon seems to be good at making friends,” said Bruce. “Tommy’s been having some issues there.”

“Maybe they should spend more time together outside of get-togethers like this?” asked Clark. “Tommy might pick up on Jon’s social skills if it’s more one-on-one?”

“How would Jon like a sleepover at the manor?” Selina offered. “It’ll also give you and Lois a chance for some alone time before the new baby arrives.”

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Clark said, looking into the living to find several kids taking turns feeling the baby kick his wife’s stomach. “I’ll talk to Lois about it later.”

“As long as it’s okay we have cats,” Selina winked. “And maybe a bat or two.”

Bruce nearly choked on his wine, drawing stares from the other kids’ parents. “I’m okay,” he said, raising his glass.

Clark’s phone rang. “Excuse me a moment,” he said upon seeing the caller ID. He stepped outside to the empty patio. It was too cold outside for guests to congregate there. “Kelex?” he answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Sir,” said the fortress robot. “The fortress is picking up strange energy readings. You may want to get down here as soon as possible.”

“Can you keep an eye on it?” Clark asked. “Let me know if anything serious happens.”

“Sir,” Kelex clarified. “The energy readings are consistent with Phantom Zone disotortions.”

Clark felt his heart drop. “I’ll be right there,” he said before rushing back inside.

“Is everything okay?” said Bruce. “Something we can help with?”

“It’s probably fine,” said Clark. “But I have to take care of something.” He went into the living room to let Lois he would have to leave.

“Hurry back,” said Lois. “It’s almost time for cake.”

Fortress of Solitude, North Pole

Soon

Clark dropped down to the Fortress’ entrance and moved quickly inside. “Kelex,” he said. “What’s the status?”

“It’s okay,” said Kelex. “It turns out it was good news!”

Jor-El’s hologram materalized in front of Clark. “My son,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

“Father,” Clark returned. “How did you get out of the Phantom Zone?” he asked.

“General Zod and his followers were close to escaping,” Jor-El explained. “I managed to shut down their attempt by sending my program through the exit terminal instead.”

“I’ve still been looking for a way to help them,” Clark explained. “After Faora’s attack on The Toyman (Superman #39), there hasn’t been any buy-in from the government to help rehabilitate alien beings. It was already hard enough to get support after Zod’s attacks.”

“I can assist you there, son,” said Jor-El. “Perhaps we can find a solution that works for everyone. ”He stepped around, looking at all the structures and technology he could see. “I missed this place,” he said.

Clark never knew him to be sentimental, but his father was through a lot. “You’ll have to tell me more about what happened in there sometime,” he said. “But for now, are you okay?”

“My programming is reintgrating to the fortress,” Jor-El explained. “Once that’s complete, I’ll be better than ever.”

“I’m still picking up Phantom Zone distortions,” said Kelex.

“It’s fine,” Jor-El explained. “It’s just residual energy from my escape. But I’ll keep monitoring it, just in case.”

Stryker's Island

Thaddeus Killgrave pulled himself up to the top bunk of his jail cell. His new cellmate was adamant about taking the bottom. If he could only get his hands on his tech. It was hard to assert himself without his tools.

“Comfy up there?” the roommate laughed.

Killgrave held in a retort about his cellmate’s mothers as he lay down on his uncomfortable pillow. It wouldn’t do any good to antagonize someone with whom he was locked in a room. He’d find better ways to get his revenge.

A siren began blaring and Killgrave popped up. Maybe an opportunity was presenting itself already. He slid down from his bunk and ran to the cell door, trying to get a peek at what was happening. That’s when he saw a man in a blue metallic suit and a barrel for an arm approaching.

“I know you!” Killgrave shouted. “You’re the one they call Barrage!”

“That’s me,” Barrage confirmed, lifting his arm to the cell. “You may want to step back.”

Killgrave ran back as far as he could in the cell, ducking behind the bed. His cellmate was frozen in place, shocked at what was happening.

“Fire in the hole!” Barrage shouted before firing a blast that blew the cell door apart. “Thaddeus Killgrave,” he said when the smokey debris cleared. “We’re starting up a new team,” he continued. “You interested?”

“Maybe,” Killgrave answered slyly. “One condition, though,” he added, pointing to his cellmate.

“You want me to join too?” the man asked.

“No, of course not,” Killgrave answered. “Blast him!”

Barrage smirked and fired off another blast at the prisoner. He and Killgrave walked out of the cell.

“So, tell me about this team,” Killgrave said. “Although, might I suggest calling it a “squad?” It really hits the ears better.”

<< | < | >

##The Flash #93 - Letter Not From The Editor

<< | < | >

Author: brooky12

Book: Flash

Arc: ?

Set: 93

Before I begin this letter, I want to thank The Flash Foundation for allowing me this opportunity. This letter hasn’t been read through and processed by the folks who normally handle public releases as we agreed that the best course of action would be to keep my vision of what the letter was supposed to say. So, in advance, my apology for strange wording, potential grammatical errors, and rambling thoughts.

I am The Flash, specifically the one who wears a metallic hat when in outfit. I wanted to write this letter as soon as we realized that there were questions being raised, though my initial message through the Foundation about more information on its way seems to have been misinterpreted, which is my responsibility for rushing.

This letter may be difficult to understand, and I have done what I can to explain some portions. If you cannot understand it, that is fine. If you cannot believe it, that is fine too. I only wish to explain the events that have resulted in what is being called "Metalhead Effect".

I wanted to first discuss the facts of the event that occurred over the last several months. An individual with access to super speed that was previously unknown to any Flash and the Flash Foundation, which I will further call R, found access to what appears to be an extradimensional environment accessible via super speed. In this extradimensional environment, there appears to be ways to modify some parts of the reality of the world as we know it.

Additionally, this space has some special properties for individuals with super speed, of which the details of we know much less. It appears to contain, in some manner, the moments of birth and death for every individual connected to it, for example. Our current theory is that this space is in some way the origin of our metahuman abilities, connected to each Flash intrinsically despite varied events that resulted in us having super speed.

While the Flashes maintain good working connections with most metahumans with super speed across the globe, there are a handful who have distanced themselves from us, whether by choice of action or by personal decision. While we do not condone using super speed for illegal activity and take action to keep people safe from bad actors, we recognize the desire for privacy. We do not go out in search of individuals with super speed.

R was not someone we were aware of. The Flash Foundation has a strong worldwide infrastructure for individuals who believe they have super speed wishing to reach out for mentorship and assistance, which R did not use. R found, on their own work, how to access this super speed extradimensional space, without us being aware of them or their level of access.

While the Flashes have used this extradimensional space sparingly and only in times of need, R took actions that can only be interpreted as self-serving and against the freedom of the people of the world. In this space, R determined how to rewrite certain parts of history, using the strong connection between super speed and time passage.

While the connection is not strongly understood, there are scientific principles that connect the movement of an object and its passage through time. When an object moves faster than previously assumed possible in the works of Einstein and other scientists, this time dilation further warps. While I cannot explain details I myself do not fully understand, it appears that in this extradimensional space, a particularly motivated individual with super speed is able to adjust small parts of history.

However, like a river, making one small change in a part of the stream has rippling effects and influences on other parts of time. While R only sought to make one major change and a few smaller ones, it greatly changed many other parts of the passage of time, both in logical ways and in ways that we currently do not understand. This latter part is to be somewhat expected, as a change made by R will change a number of things immediately around it, which then in turn will change other things impacted by that change, and so on.

The Flashes have not and will never attempt to adjust the events of time. R sought to change the world and people’s free will actions in order to suit their own desires. The largest change of which was to attempt to replace us as the individual associated with the name Flash, wiping the group of us out of existence or public thought in order to assume the mantle themself. While they were obviously unsuccessful at entirely removing us from existence, for those of you that may remember an interim Flash during the time we were supposedly missing, this was R.

When we discovered the existence of R and the actions they took, it became our single priority to undo the damage. To allow individuals to tamper with the sequence of time and events as they occur to better suit their preferences would be to remove free will entirely from every individual on Earth, putting the final decision about what people can and will do into the hands of a very select few.

Thankfully, the effects of tampering with time in this manner is evident in the extradimensional space that these actions can be taken on, and as such we were able to revert things back to their natural course of events prior to any tampering. There are no other indications of tampering with time having occurred, and it has become a part of the standard Flash process to check in to ensure that evidence of tampering does not appear.

There are many reports of people experiencing varying levels of recalling memories that did not occur. This was dubbed the “Metalhead Effect”, presumably in part due to my identity being attached to the first public statement. This is understandable, and a good concise name for a phenomenon that is difficult to pin down and explain in detail.

In short, these conflicting memories appear to be remnants of the influences of R on time, with people remembering different sequences of events. While there does not appear to be any easily understandable qualifiers to determine who remembers what, in many cases there are ways to determine the true sequence of events, such as purchase receipts or other physical evidence of actions taken. A good rule of thumb is that the R-influenced events are only remembered and have no trace outside of human memory.

“Metalhead Effect” is here to stay, and I want to wish my sincerest apologies for those struggling with the impacts of that. We had not anticipated this happening when fixing R’s decision to change events in time, and despite our best efforts, it does not appear that there is anything further that can be done on this topic. We will continue to look, but I don’t anticipate discovering anything new.

There appears to be a wide range of how things are remembered as a result of the “Metalhead Effect”. Some individuals appear to remember exclusively true events, and others remember exclusively the sequence of events resulting from R’s changes. Most people seem to fall in between these two extremes, remembering some combination of both.

It is my view and the view of all individuals identified as The Flash that undoing the changes to time was a necessary action to take. To allow individuals who know how the freedom to change reality by adjusting events would supplant free will by taking away the ability to choose from individuals and leaving it to what appears to be inscrutable ripple effects.

Again, I wish to apologize. It is difficult to guard against what we are unaware of, but we should’ve been more proactive in understanding the extradimensional space and what can and cannot be accomplished in it. What has happened has happened, and to contradict our own values to try and undo the decisions made by R and take away free will on our own as a result is not a step that I’m willing to consider.

I don’t have a good ending for this letter. Again, the Flash Foundation has kindly allowed me to ramble and introduce grammatical errors into their information release system, and translators have been kind to put extra effort into ensuring that authorial intent and expression is maintained as much as possible across the translation process.

What happened recently was a mistake, and the fix was not clean. While I wish we could’ve done better, it appears to not be possible to prevent access entirely to the extradimensional plane or the mechanisms in which one can impact time via speed. The Flash Foundation has resources in all of the countries it operates in to help individuals impacted by this event and the “Metalhead Effect”, and I urge those struggling to reach out and make use of these resources.

Thank you,
“Metalhead”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

To whom it may concern,

Earlier this week, The Flash Foundation released a letter discussing the terrible events of recent months. As stated in the letter, this was without any review or peer feedback, instead written by one Flash on his own. The Flash Museum has a copy of the letter on display at one of its exhibits, but wishes to directly address it as a source of information and transparency about The Flash and their actions.

This letter was written quickly in order to respond to the public letter by The Flash Foundation, as many of our supporters and patrons wished for a reply. Our apologies if it does not stand up to the standard scrutiny a release associated with The Flash Museum tends to. In our defense, neither does The Flash’s letter.

Unfortunately, it appears to be that the entire letter is useless. Rather than discuss facts and explanations about what he did, The Flash instead chose to repeat words such as “it appears” and instead placed blame and full responsibility on a mysterious figure who he refused to even name. The world has a right to know the details.

In a fairly short letter, the word “appears” appears a mind-boggling seven times, each time in the context of denying full knowledge of the circumstances. Who does know the full circumstances of what you did if not you, Flash? Even if your denial of culpability is to be taken at face value, it is incredibly worrying that the person who supposedly fixed time isn’t quite sure what happened.

It is uncontestable that the letter falls incredibly short of properly answering the countless questions that the world has for The Flash as a result of what occurred, the most crucial of which is to actually explain what happened. Enough with extradimensional spaces and “R” and comparing time to a river, billions of people have memories of doing things over the last several months that did not happen.

The Flash Museum is horrified at what has happened—or, in reality, what we can determine has happened with the lack of information available—and wishes the best to everyone negatively impacted by what has happened. However, The Flash is only further hurting people by obfuscating and hiding information, such as the identity of this supposed time changer.

We understand that some information cannot be released, such as the way to access this extradimensional space, especially if it can be so easy to change reality from it, but much is left in the dark, seemingly intentionally.

The world should expect more of The Flash, individuals we have all come to look up to an admire as a truly positive impact in the world. And yet, this letter brings that into serious question, and raises the question whether The Flash genuinely thought the letter would pull the wool over our eyes or not.

The Flash Museum cannot possibly assume the worst and that this is some sort of fabricated lie, but if this is truly The Flash’s understanding of what has happened, there are a lot of questions about the people we entrust our lives and safety to and whether they are up to the task of operating with limited transparency.

As a reminder, The Flash Museum is an unaffiliated organization focused on information and stories about The Flash, entirely unsupported by Museum’s namesake or the Flash Foundation. While this is an unenviable position and The Flash seems unwilling to build bridges of compromise, this does enable us to serve as a voice of reason in situations like this.

For two months or so, people experienced life as they normally did. Then, all of the sudden, those two months and plenty more before that changed without warning or explanation. If not for rumors trickling out from various metahuman networks and a short public statement by the Flash Foundation, people would still be struggling to process years of contradictory information and memories. For this letter to be the formal explanation and owning of a mistake, it does a very poor job at both.

The Flash Museum calls on The Flash to properly explain all details of what occurred, and to make further strides in transparency as to their actions which are all too often shrouded and opaque. We as a world deserve better, and The Flash should return to their place as a role model the world over by properly providing explanations for what occurred.

Bird & Bow #1 - Highly Sting

Black Canary's Beginning: Green Arrow’s Beginning

[<<](Welcome to the beginning) | >

Book: Bird & Bow

Set: 93

Arc: Changed for Good

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

For the first time in a long time, Oliver Queen sat at his mother's bedside.

But unlike the last time he was here, when he sat in silence, today, he spoke.

"What am I meant to do?" Ollie asked in the silent room, pacing. "I was a better man when I was with her and it burns me up inside -" He thumped on his chest with a closed fist, emotion brimming just below the surface "- because I love - loved - her so much and she doesn't even spare me a glance."

Oliver Queen turned, his eyes pleading with his mother's still form. "What am I meant to do without her? How can I go on knowing what type of man I could be if I had her by my side?"

Even now, a month after Barry Allen and the Flashes had returned the world to its 'natural' state, Ollie could still feel the absolutely soul consuming love he had for Dinah Lance. And it was tearing him apart day by day.

Sighing deeply, Ollie ran a hand through his hair, musing it. He knew what his mother would say - "if you were a better man with her, then become the man she made you."

Ollie flipped open his phone. The conversation with Dinah popping open immediately.

I want to be a part of the Justice League.

Small steps, Ollie thought, but each one paved the way back to that world, back to that future where he was with Dinah, back to the world where he could be a better man.

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

Dinah shifted on her feet, feeling Ollie shift behind her, matching and mirroring her movements almost perfectly in sync.

Eyes swept from the table in front of her, registering surprise at seeing her, and then confusion and caution as they beheld Green Arrow behind her.

She definitely should have told them he was coming.

Dinah stepped to the side, sweeping a hand out in introduction. "Green Arrow this is the Justice League, League this is Arrow."

Several slow nods from the core team had Dinah's panic lowering. Superman stood offering a quick hello, his tall, slightly bulky frame called attention back to the issue at hand.

She watched the alien for another moment, surveying the way he made eye contact with those he considered friends, a hesitant smile seemed to reach across the table to welcome both Dinah and Ollie into the fold.

"Thanks everyone for coming on such short notice. As you all might know, a lot of people have been reporting duel memories - similar to the Dome incident at a much larger scale." Superman cast a quick look at the Flash, the two conversing with their eyes the way people who have worked together for years do.

Superman went on to explain what everyone was calling ‘The Metalhead Effect.’ Where some people, like Dinah, remembered the last two months as they were supposed to happen. She remembered having dinner with her dad, catching a few low life criminals. Nothing all that interesting. Others, like Ollie, remembered the world as it had been when the Flashes went back and changed everything. Most folk remembered some combination of the two.

Ollie still hadn't told her what he remembered. But she saw the way he looked at her sometimes when he thought she wasn't paying attention. The intensity of the emotion that lay beneath his green eyes in those moments made her shiver. Made her wish she could remember.

As the big boy in blue finished his explanation, Flash stood silently. He was as skinny as a twig and looked breakable from first glance. But Dinah observed the shifting muscles underneath the tight red ensemble and knew that the man was a fighter.

Dinah tilted her head slightly, wondering just for a moment if the Flash family had been selfish doing what they did. But looking at him now, Dinah knew that whatever the reason, it was because it was the only choice the family could have made.

"Does anyone have any questions?"

Ollie stepped out from behind her, a looming shadow that made everyone turn his way.

"Two, if you don't mind." Ollie's voice had returned to its rough edge and Flash nodded, tensing. "First, is it possible to have everyone share in both memories? As in, can those who don't remember the normal months be made to remember and vice versa?"

Dinah tried not to let any emotion cross her features, but she wasn't sure how convincing she was being.

"No. I'm sorry, I really am." The Flash's eyes darted between her and Ollie. He knew then, whatever had happened in those other months, Flash knew all about it. "Memory doesn't really work that way. Even trying something like that could overload the memory and kill someone."

Martian Manhunter nodded. “It is not like these people simply forgot those two months. They do not have any memories to restore.”

She could feel Ollie's jaw working and his eyes on the back of her head for a moment.

"Second question then. Could you make people with memories of the broken timeline forget those two months?" Something in his voice squeezed her heart and made Flash avert his eyes.

"I'm sorry Arrow." Was all the other superhero had to say.

The room held its breath - or maybe it was just her - for several long moments before Ollie nodded, stepping back into the shadows by her side.

Safe to say Dinah didn't pay a lick of attention to the rest of the meeting.

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

Sweat beaded down her brow and she could feel her heart racing underneath the slightly armored leotard that covered her internal organs.

Ollie watched her every move, calculating and cataloging. They had gone three rounds in the sparring room of the Watchtower already, and a small crowd had been steadily growing until almost the whole League was watching them beat the shit out of each other.

They were perfectly evenly matched, except for the fact that she wanted it more. Had extracted a promise from him after the meeting ended - if she won, he'd tell her everything.

The first round was meant to have been a warm up, a way for them to stretch out the sore muscles. That idea had lasted the first minute before they had both found that rather serious look they got before a fight.

They had gone to time in each round since, no one had been able to call a winner between them.

The soft ding of the timer starting was the only sound that Dinah heard as she clenched her fists. Her knuckles were red and raw, and she had split her lip in round two by not avoiding one of Ollie's punches.

She had done it on purpose, to see whether or not he would pull back when he realized she wasn't dodging.

He didn't. It was clear that whatever had occurred in the past two months, he really didn't want to tell her.

It made her want to know even more.

Ollie offered her a snarky smile. His own lip was split and a bruise was beginning to form on his cheek.

Dinah lunged to the left, swinging her leg up to kick Ollie in his ribs. She watched as Ollie's body moved to block it before switching legs at the last second, his eyes widening as her foot connected with his side.

Ollie rasped and Dinah tried not to cringe. She hated having to hurt him just to get him to tell her the truth.

But Ollie knew that about her, just as he knew how her body moved and responded in a way that not even the Prey Birds had been able to do.

A moment of deep breathing is all he took before Ollie launched himself at her, his fists flying with speed that made it near impossible to block.

Dinah knew she had made a mistake concentrating on his fists when he flashed her his most charming smile, right before his foot connected with the back of her ankles, sending her towards the floor. She had enough semblance of self to wrap her own legs along the back of his toned calves. Surprise, making his eyes pop open for a moment before they both hit the floor with an oomph.

Breathing hard, Ollie searched her eyes. A surprising amount of softness and care as he surveyed her injuries.

“What happened, Arrow?” Even with the sparring, with how close they were right now, she still wouldn't use his name. She would keep his secret just as she trusted him to keep hers.

He stared at her for another moment, then shaking his head, Oliver Queen leant down and kissed her.

Searing heat and the coppery tang of blood surged through her, and there was a fierceness, a sense of release in the kiss that made her realize he had been waiting to do that for a long time.

Several moments lost in his kiss before he leaned back, a jubilant woop echoing through the space as Booster Gold fist-pumped the air.

Ollie closed his eyes as a defense against whatever he thought she might be thinking. “That. That's what happened.”

--->~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<---

Oliver Queen was certain that he was an imbecile and a fool to boot. Two days had passed since that moment in the Watchtower.

He had been added to the league chat for those on the extended team, and had put forth an offer to begin teaching archery lessons to those who might want to improve some of their lesser honed skills. He was still waiting for a response, but he had said he would go there on Wednesdays, and Wednesday it was.

He sat on the hard concrete floor, stretching out his tight calves, his mind running wild. The sparring mat was just on the other side of the room. Someone had cleaned up the blood spatters after he and Dinah went to town on one another. His lip still hadn't healed properly from the kick to the face he was certain he deserved.

Despite everything, Ollie had managed to be productive in the last few days, spending the time checking up on the cultists from his memory of the last two months. They lived, and the confirmation that just because he had killed them in one version of events didn't mean they died was an immeasurable weight off his shoulders.

They were a quiet, subdued bunch, and despite the constant surveillance, Ollie wasn’t able to tell if they were up to something or not. Some of the people he remembered were God-fearing church attending people which seemed on point with the whole ‘cultist’ thing, while others still were hardened criminals standing on street corners as bodyguards for drug dealers and the like.

Something in his bones still screamed that these people were wrong, that there was some weird shit going on beneath it all that he just couldn't quite see. He knew he would have to ask Dinah for help if things didn't become clear soon.

Shrugging his sore shoulders, Arrow stood. The material of his suit shifted as his muscles rippled until the fabric was once again taut against his skin. He surveyed the collection of bows, from compact to recurve to long, the Watchtower had a fairly reasonable assortment of weaponry.

He wondered briefly who funded the collection of these weapons, or if each piece had been a collection from some villain or another.

Ollie carefully tugged the longbow from its mount, the feel of the sanded wood felt good. It had been years since he’d handled a long bow. He could get the same type of impact from a compact hunting bow, which was his usual fare these days. He stared at the large target, the bullseye a small pinprick in the distance.

Planting his collection of arrows at his feet, Ollie quickly drew one of the white goose feather arrows. His breathing slowed as his gaze zeroed in on the target. Time slowed to milliseconds as his chest began to rise, his fingers close to brushing the underside of his mask. With an exhale that had been practiced and perfected years ago, Ollie released the arrow.

A second later, a satisfying thunk reverberated through the space, and he narrowed his eyes at the target, trying to tell if he had been dead on or if his aim was off.

Slow clapping roused him from his momentary brood and Ollie turned, his eyebrows already furrowing in annoyance before he saw who it was.

Dinah stood leaning against the wall, a small smile on her lips as she held up a recurve bow.

“I heard you were offering lessons?” She sounded so unsure, but just the sight of her standing there was enough for Ollie.

He nodded, not trusting his voice to come out as gruff as Green Arrow was supposed to be, and indicated with his head for her to come stand at the shooting line.

Ollie cleared his throat. “Let's get started.”

Doom Patrol #11- We Interrupt This Message Part Two (Time Out)

Author: u/DarkLordJurasus

Editor: u/MajorParadox

Book: Doom Patrol

Arc: Another Multiverse Story?

Set: 92

​

In a split second, everything changes.

Crash

A live explosive smashes through the window, glass shards flying into the two men shaking hands. As his skin is sliced through with glass shards, Niles puts his weight onto Brian, sending them falling into the bed behind the Presidential Candidate.

A moment later, both men wince as the air violently shakes, heat expanding, the grenade having exploded. Hot shrapnel flies through the air, barely missing the two men.

Niles stands up, taking a step backwards to let Brian join him. The former government agent is in bad shape, his body broken and battered, his head pounding. Brian stands and looks down at the bed, a giant frown covering his face. On the bed is the remains of a smushed laptop, the screen black as the hinges are totally destroyed from the weight of two men.

Brian turns to Niles who has his hands on his thighs, gasping for breath, and says, “That was my only way to control the android guards. There is now no way to reactivate them.”

Niles shakes his head, grabbing Brian’s hand, he starts pulling his former enemy towards the door. “We’ll deal with that later.” Niles gasps out, his crushed hand leaning against the door frame.

Brian goes out of the room first, his body making it through the door just as the sound of bullets striking wood enters the room.

Niles ducks down, praying that the gunman is facing forward and can’t fire at the angle needed to shoot him. Quickly he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. It won’t do much, but the few seconds the attacker will take might be the difference between life and death.

Without stopping, Niles turns his body to the way he got up to this floor, the staircase. It’s open space, hard to hide from bullets, but it’s also a much better solution than the elevator. Never get into a metal coffin when you are running for your life.

Niles sprints down the hallway, Brian quickly on his tail. “I guess this means you are taking the job Niles.” Brian says in a way that makes it clear it isn’t a question. Niles resists the urge to punch the supervillain as he replies, “Not really got a choice. He’ll probably kill me just for association.”

The two rush down the hall, Brian only stopping in front of the Fire Alarm. The presidential candidate slams down the lever, red, emergency lights flickering on as alarms blare throughout the building.

The door opens revealing a man dressed in red, white, and blue, a silver helmet adorning his head, and an eagle symbol on his chest. The man, Christopher Smith, points a pistol down the hallway, and fires a shot.

Bang

The shot hits Niles straight in the shoulder, pain blossoming out from his new bullet wound. He wants to scream out, but his body is too weak, the sound dying in his dry throat as a whimper of pain.

Christopher pulls back the barrel, this time aiming for Brian Doe. He pulls the trigger.

Bang

The shot misses as the former enemies duck into the stairwell. Christopher sighs, and starts running down the hallway, the red light reflecting off his helmet.

Niles and Brian begin to descend the stairs as quickly as they can. They are slow, too slow in Niles’ opinion. Between Niles’ collapsing body and Brian’s older body, the two of them are nothing more than slowly moving ducks.

Almost tripping on a step, Niles asks, “What’s your plan? I know you Brain. You have to have a plan.”

Brian responds, “Step one was to pull the fire alarm. Now the fire department is coming, and hopefully the police will too due to how high profile the hotel is. Step two is to get to my car in the parking lot.”

Niles turns left, his head growing dizzy as he prepares to descend down the next staircase. He tries to continue, only two more sets of stairs until the first floor, but as he looks down, the step seems to move.

Niles grabs the railing, and for a moment, fully stops. Only a second later, Brian is grabbing both his shoulder and touching his lower back. “Come on Niles.” Brian urges, “I need your help with the last step. If you don’t continue moving, neither one of us will escape this.”

Niles nods and starts moving again, his hand white knuckling the handrail.

Christopher runs into the stairwell, his pistol loaded. Looking around, he sees there is no way to aim at his target without going down the stairs. Rolling his eyes, he yells, “Brian Doe, you might as well stop running and die like a man. There’s is no fucking way I’m letting you and that Hippie, Communist, Cuck you’re with survive.”

Christopher descends down the empty stairwell faster than Niles or Brian did, although they both had the advantage of a head start. Niles and Brian get to the first floor and slam shut the fire-rated metal safety doors that were propped open.

Bang

Christopher fires another shot, the bullet making it to the doorway just in time to be stopped by cold metal.

Both Brian and Niles continue to run through the empty hotel. Seeing the front desk in the distance, Niles realizes it is empty. Empty, like the rest of the hotel. Actually, on that thought, Niles realizes, where are the androids that were chasing him earlier? There were multiple androids following him up the stairs earlier, but when they were going down them, not one to be seen.

Bang

Before Niles can comment on the strangeness of his realization, another bullet is fired, hitting Brian straight through the chest, knocking him down to the ground. Blood seeps out onto the carpet as the supervillain collapses face first onto the floor.

Niles runs over and turns Brian’s body to face up, making sure that he can breathe. Niles goes for his own gun, hoping to potentially get a lucky shot of the assailant before the killer can take out both of them, but stops. He dropped his gun when he jumped on top of Brian.

Niles shakes his head, his hands covered in blood. He rises to his feet, if he is going to go down, he’s going to go down fighting. Turning around, Niles expects Christopher to be readying up another shot, but instead….he sees nothing.

Niles is shocked, why would Christopher leave without killing him, or better yet, making sure Brian is dead. It’s illogical. It’s like he wasn’t there to kill Brian, no, just to injure him.

Niles eyes widen as police sirens blare in the distance. Turning back around, he sees Brian there, blood covering his lips, smiling, Niles’ gun in his hands. “Well Niles. Figure out the plan yet?”

Niles minds races, the pieces slowly being placed together. How could he be so ignorant, so blind, this was the Brain he was talking about, and yet he walked straight into a trap.

“No.” Niles says quietly. “No,” he says again louder, “I have all my proof on you in a car. The police will find it and everyone will know.”

Brian takes out a small remote, leading to Niles checking his pockets to make sure his suspicion is right. Checking, Niles flinches, it’s his remote to the explosive set inside the car. “I grabbed this off of you when I helped steady you on the stairs.”

Brian presses the button and both men hear an explosion in the distance. Brian laughs, “Honestly, Niles. This was easy. Way too easy.I expected more from you.”

“The assassin?” Niles asks, “I assume you paid for your own assassination attempt.”

Brian nods, “He’s called Peacemaker. He’ll do anything for peace, and with a few sugary words, I convinced him that a fake attempted assassination will go a long way.”

“And the guards?”

“Such a shame that the security guards were lazy and assumed that because all the candidates were at the convention, they could go grab food during work hours. Really, they’ll all have to be fired.”

The sirens grow louder in Niles’ ears. His time is running out, and both of them know it. He can’t run, Brian will shoot him, and there'll be no way to explain this to the cops. It will be his words against those of a Presidential Candidate’s.

Niles looks at Brian, his eyes darting around his arch-enemy’s body, trying to find any weakness to manipulate. Narrowing his eyes at the bullet wound, Niles realizes he has one more question, “You’ll die. How do you plan to get out of this alive? That bullet through you is going to make you bleed to death.”

Brian shakes his head, “As soon as you arrived, I had my androids call the police and an ambulance. I’ll lose consciousness in five minutes, be dead in seven, and luckily, as you can hear, I’ll be saved in four. The fire alarm being pulled, that was just to make things look more realistic.”

Niles tries, he really tries to think of some way out. But his mind keeps coming up blank. He stands there unsure of what to do. In a moment he’ll be arrested, and once the police have him in custody, they’ll quickly find out of his work with the Bureau. Attempted murder of a Presidential Candidate most definitely goes against the contract he signed all those years back, and even with the Bureau disbanded, he doubts the punishment he saw dolled on other agents that broke their contract was at all changed.

Quietly, almost inaudibly, Niles asks Brian, “What’s next?”

Brian smiles and holds out the gun for Niles to take. “Inside,” Brian explains, “there is one bullet left. You can kill me, but then you have to deal with the police. I think we both know the better choice to make.”

Niles takes the gun gingerly. For a moment, the thought of blowing Brian’s brain out is satisfying. How good would it feel to take down the supervillain known as The Brain by shooting him through the brain. But Niles stops himself, thinking Brian’s words over carefully. It’s ingenious. An attempted murder suicide. Niles wouldn’t be able to tell his side of the story while Brian gets away looking like a survivor, a hero. Of course, things could have gone wrong with the plan, but Brian knew Niles, and every step was taken with Niles in mind. It was smart, it was calculated, it was a plan fitting of the moniker of The Brain.

Niles pulls the hammer on the gun. Two choices, neither pretty. Die and let Brian take over America, or be arrested, and potentially worse, for killing a Presidential Candidate. He needs to make a choice…

Bang

The gun in Nile’s hands discharges.

Doom Patrol #10- We Interrupt This Message Part One (Time Out)

Author: u/DarkLordJurasus

Editor: u/MajorParadox

Book: Doom Patrol

Arc: Another Multiverse Story?

Set: 92

​

My name is Niles Caulder, and if you are reading this, then I am dead.

Niles Caulder sits in a car on the side of the road. The car is a black Subaru, stolen, with a fake license plate put on. He really wishes he didn’t need to steal a car, but it is necessary. Living in New York City, he grew reliant on public transportation, and using a train to take him across state lines would lead to more chances of things going wrong than his current plan could.

For the ninety-plus years, I have been on this planet, I have fought some of the greatest threats to national security that have ever existed.

Niles feels his hands shaking on the steering wheel. He’s far enough away from his target and the road has a lot of cars on it. Logically he knows that at worst, he’ll be accosted for idling by police, but his illogical side is controlling his brain.

I have battled with the Brotherhood of Evil, outwitted the deadly Mr. Nobody, took on General Immortus’ mutant army, and even killed Nazis from another Earth.

Fifteen minutes. He just has to stay calm for fifteen minutes. According to the files he bought, the security detail around the Embassy Suites by Hilton switches out every hour. And even then, it’s more lax due to the politicians currently being at the Democratic National Convention.

Taking a deep breath, Niles puts on the car’s radio. Immediately it turns to 1010 news:

“Today is the final day of the 2016 Democratic National Convention. While it is almost certain that Brian Doe will become the party’s candidate, going against Republican front-runner, James Mallah, we are still waiting for the official announcement.”

It is quite possible that you do not believe these threats existed, but that is merely because we at the Bureau of Oddities did such a good job covering up the truth from the public.

Niles quickly changes the channel, wanting to listen to anything that isn’t the news. He’s given so much thought these past few weeks to Brian Doe that merely his name leads to a headache. Putting on 80’s on 8, Niles closes his eyes as Vain’s Beat the Bullet comes on.

It was my job, my life, my calling, or it was until the Cold War ended and the Bureau was disbanded. Since then, I have been a history teacher at Queen’s College, living out the rest of my extended life, hoping that the country will never need me.

Niles opens the cloth bag in the passenger seat of the car. First thing out of the bag is a pair of white gloves. They have rubber pads on the fingertips to allow the user to do more while wearing them. He’ll look strange wearing them in this weather, but it’s a necessity if he’s going to get away with this.

Next out of the bag is a ski mask. Between the mask and the gloves, he hopes he’s able to avoid any obvious evidence attaching himself to the crime. He’s been methodical about this, days of planning are coming to fruition, so everything must be perfect.

That changes today.

Niles puts on the gloves. The rest of the equipment, he can’t risk his fingerprints being on them. He knows that despite all his work, the police will catch him, be it due to a rogue hair, a drop of saliva, or one of a million other details Niles didn’t think about. That doesn’t mean he has to give up though. No, if Niles is going down, he’s going to go down fighting.

In one hour from writing this, on July 28th at 3 pm, I will be breaking into the residence of Presidential Candidate Brian Doe as I believe him to secretly be the Nazi supervillain known as The Brain.

Out of the bag next is a bundle of explosives, connected to a Bluetooth remote. Wrapped around it is a note. The note is a manifesto Niles wrote explaining what he is doing and why. Hopefully, everything goes well, Niles detonates the explosive and uses the chaos to escape, but if not, this will ensure the world knows the truth.

Niles places the explosives underneath the driver seat and gently puts the remote into his pocket. It’s not sensitive. The remote has to be held down at full strength for ten whole seconds for the bomb to go off, but it is always better to be safe than sorry.

During his prime, The Brain, and his partner Monsieur Mallah ruled the Brotherhood of Evil with an iron fist. He hid his actions and true intentions from the world by working for both the Nazis and the Soviets. After the fall of the Soviet Union, he disappeared, until now.

Following the explosives are three weapons. A stun gun, a knife, and a pistol. Niles hopes that he can get through this without confrontation, but he’s trying to be realistic. It would not be fun if he had to kill innocents, but the risk of what would happen if he fails empties his consciousness of guilt.

It started with small indications. Brian’s blinking pattern lacked consistency, his body lacked precision while doing certain acts. But when watching television I saw it. A small space existed between where his hair ends and his skin begins, and there, I saw silver metal.

Putting his weapons into place, Niles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. A lot can go wrong with the plan, and yet it’s the only one he’s got. He couldn’t risk telling others his suspicions, couldn’t risk getting found out before he was ready. He’s the only one who knows the truth, the only one with the will to stop The Brain, and he’s willing to both kill and die in order to complete his mission.

If all goes well, I will release files proving that Brian Doe is The Brain. If not, make sure others know, Brian Doe is not who he claims to be.

Niles grabs the last thing remaining in his bag, a two-terabyte flash drive. It’s unlikely that The Brain brought his laptop to the DNC, meaning it along with any incriminating documents on it are in his room.

3:00

Niles sighs and opens the car’s door. Sadly he can’t turn it off, a consequence of hot wiring it instead of having keys. It will keep running until it inevitably runs out of gas, or it is blown up.

Niles inhales sharply through his nose as he watches cars drive up to the Embassy Suites. Right on schedule. Niles sprints down the street, the people around him staring. It worries Niles,. Sure he hasn’t done anything wrong, and surely these people have seen weirder, but all it takes is one person to call the cops prematurely for everything to go wrong.

Niles quickly enters a parking lot and ducks between two buildings. From his little alleyway, he can see the switch off of security in front of the building. He can hear his heart beating in his ears, and his legs feel like jelly, but his window of opportunity is leaving. He needs to get into the building before the new security is inside.

Heavy shoes slam against black concrete as Niles sprints across the ground. The slapping of rubber soles against the asphalt makes the older man cringe, fearing the sound will give him away. Ducking under another car, Niles lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Now, he just has one more obstacle before he is inside.

Still ducked under a car, Niles stares at the metal door to his right. It’s a common type of side door for hotels like this, a swipe mechanism next to it that is used to unlock the metallic monstrosity.

There is one weakness to the door that Niles plans to manipulate, the glass window. Quickly, Niles takes off his shoes with steel-reinforced toes, one of the “gifts” Niles stole when the Bureau went under. He looks around the corner of the car. The area is still clear, but any moment now cars full of secret service members and security guards will be driving past him.

Taking a deep breath, Niles stands and slams his shoe into the window. Niles struggles to hold back a grunt as his shoulder strains. A few decades ago, back when he was still getting regular dosages of the special immortality serum that the Bureau had, Niles could have done this without issue. Now though, his muscles ache and his strength is almost gone.

A second strike hits the glass, the invisible wall remaining solid.

With a third strike, the glass shatters with a loud bang.

Niles’ internal monologue becomes a long string of curses. He doesn’t even need to listen to the sound of guards talking and quick footsteps, it's obvious that the security heard. Without taking time to think, Niles jumps up and forces his arm through the now-broken window, shards of glass slicing and inserting themselves into his skin.

Niles bites his tongue, his yell of pain turning into a deep grunt. Slamming his palm against the exit device, Niles feels the door shift ever so slightly. Palm strike after palm strike hits the door until it is moved just enough that Niles slams the fingers of his other hand between the door and the doorframe.

Tears escape the old man’s eyes as his fingers are entirely crushed by the weight of the metal door. His head pounds as pain overtakes his body. He can’t stop though, he can’t give up this chance. Niles drops down and grabs the door handle.

“Freeze!”

Niles doesn’t even need to turn around to know what is behind him. Guns are being pointed at him by at least one, but most definitely more guards. Ignoring the order, Niles can’t help but hope that the bit of immortality serum left in his veins can survive a few bullets in his back.

The metal door swings open and Niles dives in, the sound of guns going off blaring through the air. On his hands and knees, Niles winces and holds his neck. His glove quickly becomes covered in blood. There goes his ability to be anonymous.

Hissing in pain, Niles rises to his feet, his stance uneven due to one shoe being on and the other being left outside. Niles thinks of taking off the other shoe for comfort but shakes his head. It’s only a matter of time before he is accosted by more guns. He needs to move.

Ignoring the burning pain in his neck, Niles begins rushing towards the nearest staircase. According to an online informant he paid a few hundred thousand dollars to, Brain’s room is 308.

Footsteps ring through the air, Niles is no longer certain if they are his or those of the security chasing him. Hunched over, only the rail and pure adrenaline keep Nile moving up the steps, his body heavy with age and pain.

Turning left to go up the next staircase, Niles hears a myriad of bullets being fired into the air, slamming into the metal steps above.

Niles almost feels like a cartoon character, his legs shifting and his body twisting to move him out of the stairwell. In front of him is room 320. Turning to his left, he sees room 322. Gasping for air, Niles turns right and makes his way down the hallway.

318

314

310

Coming across room 308, Niles puts out his hand, his already crushed and purple fingers slamming against the metal doorframe, stopping him as an echo fires out of the sound. Niles’ knees buckle from the pain and stress, but he refuses to stop, his other hand already going for his pistol. He lacks a key, so he’s going for the next best thing.

Niles fires a wild bullet into the door, the recoil knocking his uninjured hand into the air. Bringing the hand back down, he fires another shot, and then another. Finally, the wood of the door splinters, weakening enough for Niles to kick through.

Entering the pitch-black room, Niles turns on the light and sees the face of Brian Doe sitting on the bed.

Brian doesn’t look human. His skin is sickly white, his nose looking as if it was melted on instead of being there naturally. The skin is stretched, not a wrinkle on it despite the lack of hair indicating an older age. Worst of all are the eyes. The pupils are too wide, as if dilated two or three times in a row with the color being a pitch black.

Niles gasps for breath, the gun shaking as he struggles to keep it pointed at Brian. The inhuman man only smiles and says, “Hello Niles. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Brian sits patiently for Niles to regain his breath. He has no reason to rush his rival, his adversary. After all, everything is going to plan. Slowly, the heaves of breath that Niles takes slow down and the gun stops shaking so drastically.

“How?” Niles asked between labored breaths, “You were supposed to be at the–”

“At the conference?” Brian asks, cutting Niles off, “Yes, yes. It is an important day, too bad I got food poisoning last night from the shit this hotel calls room service.”

A dry, fake, robotic, laugh leaves Brian’s mouth, “Honestly, did you not think I’d find a reason to see you in person when I knew you were coming.”

Niles stares at Brian in shock, confusion enveloping his eyes. Niles was sure he had kept his plan secret, how did Brian… Niles’ eyes warp as anger fills them, “The anonymous informant.”

Brian nods, “Good, you haven’t lost your brains quite yet. I was worried you were losing your edge when you fell straight into my trap. Yes, I was the informant who told you what room I was in.”

Brian gestures to a wooden chair across from him. “The security is all my robotic drones. They won’t be interrupting this meeting. Please, sit down. We have a lot to talk about.”

Niles stares at the chair for a moment. If this was the 40’s or the 60’s, he would have rejected the seat, not wanting to give Brain, or Brian, or whatever he goes by, the satisfaction. Now, in the 2010’s, his century-old body protests the idea of pride. Reluctantly, Niles walks over to the chair and sits down, his pistol’s sight never leaving Brian.

“You see,” Brian tells Niles, “I am hoping to gain your assistance with a little problem I have.”

Niles lets out a dry laugh, his wrinkling face contorting with meanness, “What? Do you need help making plans for nuclear warfare? That brain of yours must have been struck one too many times if you think I’ll ever work for you.”

Brian licks his lips, his face unemotive in the face of Niles’ insults. “I do not need your help bringing the country to nuclear war. No, I have no interest in doing that. I simply need you to help me survive an assassination attempt. You see, some extremists from the Republican party want me gone, and I have gotten word from my dear Mallah that one has hired someone to shoot me.”

“And why would I?” Niles asks incredulously. The old man sits up in his chair and says, “If anything I may just do them a favor and shoot you myself.”

Brian shakes his head, “Would you do that to the American people who voted for me? You and I both know that if you shoot me, democracy dies. No system can work where politicians believe they can put hits out on one another.”

Niles stops for a moment. Brian is right, is it worth it to shoot him? Brian would become a martyr; insurrection and murder to win the presidency would become a regular occurrence. But is that better than what Brian has planned? What could a madman with his finger on the nuclear button do?

“So,” Niles says, “I help keep you alive. Either you or Mallah becomes president, then what?”

Brian smiles again, his skin stretching, his teeth a little too white to be natural, “Let me answer that question with another question. Is it better to be loved or feared? That is the question that many of the world’s greatest leaders have pondered, and yet there has not been a single answer. Do you know why Niles?

It is because humans are illogical. They let their emotions make their decisions, and thus, no two humans will come to the same conclusion. It is something my predecessors failed to realize. Hitler, Stalin, they knew how they were going to rule before they came to power. They knew what nerves to press to rile the public up, and that was their downfall. They never planned for when the pendulum would swing back, they never planned for how other humans outside their sphere of influence would react. The Nazis and the Japanese failed to keep their fingers on the pulse of the rest of the world, and the rest of the world tore them apart. The Soviets failed to realize their people were growing angry enough to be violent and they destroyed themselves from the inside.”

Niles sits there for a moment. Unsure of what to say. Finally, he asks, “So you’re going to turn the two sides of America against each other, is that it? Have them so busy fighting each other they fail to realize when you implement your police state?”

Brian shakes his head, an expression of humor on his face. “Get the two sides to fight each other? Niles, I don’t need to do that. They are perfectly happy doing that themselves. Did you know that Richard Nixon proposed to Congress a plan for healthcare reform and the Democrats voted it down. They were so sure that Nixon had a secret plan that they shot down everything they were hoping for. My plan is much more simple.

After this election, well Monsieur Mallah and I will go into the 2020 elections as the heads of our political parties. From there, we will simply follow what the people tell us. I will continue to preach about equality, about the importance of education and peace, and Mallah will continue to proselytize about how foreigners are coming for the jobs of Americans and that teachers are trying to indoctrinate their kids. We’ll go back and forth, sometimes in new bodies, sometimes taking lesser roles in politics, we’ll say the right words and suggest bills just for the other side to vote them down. And if in all that, we defund the schools, making the next generation dumber, or increase our military funding so we can better force our will on the rest of the world, well, no one will care. It will merely be business as usual.”

“So what’s the endgame?” Niles asks, his curiosity winning out. This wasn’t the type of plan he expected from The Brain. Sure, the Brotherhood of Evil was able to hide their influence decently well, but this is much more subtle than what the former agent is used to, “You wouldn’t put in all this work for the appearance of power.”

“At some point, Monsieur Mallah and my positions will become so extreme that most people will see the other side as the other, the one to be defeated. Be this in one year, ten years, centuries, I don’t know, but it will happen. And when it does, well, some well-placed words will convince the public that the only way forward is the total extermination of their political enemy. Once only the left or right remains, well, you give the people what they want and they won’t look behind the curtain.”

“So what? You give people free healthcare or you close our borders and you don’t think the public will care when you invade the rest of the world?”

Brian begins to chuckle, no not chuckle, laugh. The laugh is boisterous, loud, mad. It gives away Brian’s past as one of the most feared supervillains during one of the darkest times in modern history. “They already don’t care. I can kill someone on the street and the news will be finding ways to justify it by nine o’clock tonight. I make something up, I claim that the people we attack are enemies to America or they have Weapons of Mass Destruction and people will look the other way.”

Niles' eyes widen in shock. Brian is right. Sure, the plan is mad, it is filled with many chances of failure, but he isn’t wrong. The American public has accepted what politicians have told them in the past. Build the right audience, and they’ll follow you straight into the gates of hell and the death of democracy. “This, this plan. It’s evil, it’s immoral…”

Brian cuts Niles off with a cruel smile, “But it isn’t villainous. No. It’s no different from what lobbyists do, playing both sides of the system. Hell, if you shot me, you’d end up having to kill every single American politician for the same crime.”

Niles is frozen for a minute, the gun shaking in his hand. Once again, Brian is right. He’s been right all along. This isn’t a plan from a madman with delusions of grandeur, no this is a plan from someone who knows the human experience, who studied the American system for decades. While Niles was trying to move on, as he tried making a life for himself in the 20th and 21st century, The Brain was there, more patient than ever, more deadly than ever.

“Fine.” Niles says in a quiet voice, “I’ll help protect you. I’ll save your life. In return, I want a seat on your cabinet.” It’s a wild play, both Brian and Niles know it. Even if made Vice President, Niles won’t be in a position to stop Brian’s plans throughout the next four years, and maybe longer if Brian wins again in 2020. But they also both know it’s the best Niles can hope for. A sliver of control, a finger on the wheel, a hope of stopping the country from becoming the United States of Brain.

To Niles' surprise, Brian smiles, “I’m sure I can find a role for you.”

Brian stands, holding out a hand, “Let us shake on this momentous occasion. It’s not every day that a long-standing rivalry comes to an end.”

Niles follows suit and grabs Brian’s hand. That’s when the window to the room shatters, a grenade landing on the floor.

##Power Girl #12 - Always a Princess (Time Out)

<< First | < Previous | Next >

Author: Lexilogical

Book: Kara Zor-El

Arc: Power Point

Event: [Time Out]https://www.reddit.com/r/DCFU/wiki/events/#wiki_time_out)

Set: 92

Recommended Reading:

• Wonder Woman 73, Aquaman 55 - Always an Angel (Time Out_

• Superman 91 - Strange Visitors (Time Out)

°¤«O»¤°

Lara had been babysitting when the world turned upside-down. Every moment of the resulting chaos had seared itself into Kara’s memory. The heat of the flames. The rumble of the ground below her feet. She remembered the smells worst of all, the scent of sulphur leaking out of the sidewalks, of brimstone and molten rock.

That, and the sounds that Lara had made, when she realized her husband wouldn’t be joining them on the escape ship. The heartbreaking wail that wrenched from her aunt’s throat scared Kara almost as much as the sights and smells of her homeworld breaking apart. For a time, she almost forgot to be sad for her own parents, away on a trip to Kandor when the world decided to fall apart.

Almost.

—-

Atlantis was nothing like Krypton had been. The only smell that filled her nose was that of saltwater, the only sounds in her ears were the rolling currents and the singing of sirens. The sting of her lost parents lessened over time, fading from a sharp pit of despair, to a quiet numbness, and finally, to a dull ache that stuck her when she finally lay down to sleep. She hadn’t forgotten them. Couldn’t forget them. But Atlantis featured so much to distract a young mind. Like the man who had taken them in when they were planetary refugees. Tall, regal, with white locs that flowed to his waist. The King of Atlantis.

Lara hadn’t smiled since their last days on Krypton, but beside Trevis, she always seemed to have one. While Kara raced down corridors with the other children, playing Anglers and Bait, she would sometimes see them, gazing out of a window at the people below. Trevis would whisper into Lara’s ear when he thought no one was looking, and Lara would giggle like she’d just snuck Kara the last cookie on the plate. A shy, furtive giggle, like she wasn’t supposed to be smiling, but maybe, just maybe, she could be happy for a few moments.

More and more, when Kara tried to remember her parents' faces, she saw Lara’s face, standing beside King Trevis, and the look of joy on their faces when they were wed.

—

“Come on, Kal!” Kara said, tugging at the younger boy’s hand and pulling him through the palace’s corridors.

“Kara, you’re going too faaaast,” Kal complained, his short legs struggling to keep up with her longer ones.

“If you don’t hurry, Sir Sollex will catch you and you’ll have to sit through his lectures!” Kara threatened.

“But I like Sir Sollex!” Kal whined. “He teaches me fun things!”

Kara rolled her eyes at her younger cousin. Of course he thought learning the names and ranks of all the various Atlantean nobility was fun. Personally, she was much more interested in Dame Cilla’s lessons, of seahorse-riding and trident practice. But there was no time to argue with Kal, she could hear Sollex’s nasal voice just around the corner from where she was.

“Alright then,” she whispered, dropping Kal’s hand abruptly. “Don’t tell him which way I went.” Before Kal could protest, she ducked through the nearest door, into a deserted conference room.

A gentle clearing of the throat let her know that the room wasn’t as deserted as she’d hoped. She turned, and saw 12 sets of eyes, burning a hole into her 9 year old frame. All of them attached to faces she’d seen in Sollex’s lectures. Every name of which had escaped her memory. All save King Trevis’s.

“Should you not be in classes?” the King asked, piercing the awkward silence. Kara licked her lips, suddenly dry beneath her crystal blue mask.

“I was… um… I was just looking for…” She stammered, staring up at the crowd of advisors and nobles.

“Looking for a place to hide, I shouldn’t wonder,” one of them sniffed, and Kara felt herself retreat inwards a little more.

King Trevis sighed, gesturing to the girl. “Come. Sit with us,” he said, beckoning for a servant to get her a chair.

A quiet gasp went amongst the nobles. “My lord-” one started, but the king waved him off.

“She will need to learn what happens in rooms like this one day,” he said. “Better she learn it firsthand, then in some stagnant room that stinks of sardine.”

The man who’d sniffed did so again. “She will never need to learn this, my liege. She is a common refugee. She has no more need of this knowledge than a flounder needs a lower eye.”

“You are wrong,” the king said. “She is my heir.”

The whispers were louder now, and Kara squirmed in her seat beneath the eyes, which seemed to have multiplied in number and intensity.

“My lord, but what of-”

“My former wife’s son? He has been missing for 12 years past, as has she, with no sign remaining. Even should he return, even should he live, he would not have the knowledge to rule this kingdom fairly.” Trevis looked down at Kara fondly. “A king should not trust his kingdom’s future on rumours and prophecy.”

—--

Not everyone shared King Trevis’ beliefs, Kara learned. She learned a lot of things that year. She learned Prince Orm’s name, and the way her uncle looked down upon her every time she sat beside Trevis. She learned to ignore his jabs and comments every time the question of succession came up. And she re-learned an old word too.

“We’ve been over this, Prince Orm,” Kara said with a huff, trying to sound older than her twelve years. “Arthur is gone. Atlanna is gone. These rebels will not bring them back by yelling loudly in the streets. My- My father has made his decision.” She stumbled over the last words, sneaking a shy glance towards Trevis as if expecting him to be angry at her presumption. But he beamed at her proudly, eyes full of love, and Kara grinned back at him. She felt a momentary pang of grief for the father she’d once had, whose face she had all but forgotten, save for his blue eyes.

“Yes, as you’ve both said, Kara. But we still have rebellions in the street,” Orm replied, eyes slitted menacingly at the display of affection. Kara narrowed her eyes in turn, debating whether it was best to call him on the lack of respect implied by not using her proper title. The two of them had never gotten along, not since Trevis had first declared Kara his successor. His eyes always bore an unmistakeable gleam of malice and jealousy every time he looked at the young, blonde girl.

“They’re a small faction,” Kara replied. “My coronation drew several times that audience.”

“As you say, Princess,” Prince Orm replied. But his voice contained none of the respect the title deserved.

—-

“Kal!” Kara yelped, grabbing at her cousin’s hand around the dinner table. “Eat off your own plate!”

“But your cake has more sprinkles,” Kal replied, licking the thick icing off his fingers. Kara rolled her eyes as she inspected the dessert, with thick swipes cut out of the decorative swirls. With a quick gesture, she swapped her plate with Kal’s untouched cake.

“Hey!” he protested.

“What? You said mine had more sprinkles. Now you have more sprinkles.” Kara took a bite of the treat, looking innocent. “Don’t tell me this was just because stolen cake tastes better.”

“Of course not,” Kal grumbled, eating his cake grouchily. Kara laughed, looking down the table to where King Trevis was whispering to Lara, her flushed face only partly hidden by her airmask. Out amongst the other nobles, she caught flashes of other faces, ladies and lords seeking her approval and attention. She gave a discreet wave to one boy, who’d been flirting with her for months. He was cute, a little nerdy, and very sweet. The two of them were going out riding tomorrow, where she expected him to ask her to the party next week.

She was daydreaming about what she’d wear when she noticed Kal was no longer beside her.

She looked around for him, spotting him walking across the room to King Trevis. She thought nothing of it, until she watched him smoothly pull the sword out of the sheathe of a nearby guard, stepping towards the King with a blank look on his face.

Something triggered in her to start moving, racing across the room. Something triggered her to tackle Kal, just as he began to raise the blade. She moved like she was in a dream, faster than she’d ever been, yet still strangely syrupy, like the world had slowed to a crawl.

When she came back to herself, she was lying on the floor with Kal gripped in a firm headlock. The younger boy struggled below her, reaching for the fallen sword, but he didn’t speak a word, not one of his quips, none of his usual life. Around her, people were screaming, but one word seemed to pierce the crowd.

“Treason!!” Prince Orm yelled, pointing at the two Kryptonians rolling on a floor. “You all saw it, the urchin tried to kill the King!”

“No!” Kara yelled, even as Kal struggled silently. “This isn’t Kal! Something is wrong!”

“After all the King has done for you! He took you in! He treated you like his own, even declared you his heir, and this is the repayment!”

“No!” Kara yelled again, her voice muffled beneath one of Kal’s elbows. Around her, the guards kicked the sword further from their reach, drawing their blades to ring the pair.

“I warned you, Trevis,” Prince Orm said. “Those with the golden hair cannot be trusted. You named her your heir, and her cousin seeks to raise her to power prematurely!”

Kal’s struggles shoved Kara’s mask askew, and Kara swallowed a mouthful of water, choking on the salt. She couldn’t waste her breath on protests. Not that it stopped Prince Orm’s rants, loudly denouncing her and Kal to everyone in earshot. Kara caught sight of people whispering as King Trevis stepped forward, looking down at the pair with hurt and disappointment in his eyes.

“She is bad luck, as I told you,” Orm said, staying beyond the ring of soldiers and steel. “And the boy is a traitor.”

Kara stared up at Trevis. In the struggles, her hair had come loose of its braid, the blonde strands drifting up and around her face like the tendrils of a Kraken. She couldn’t look the king in the eye.

“Everyone out!” King Trevis bellowed. The crowd scattered, leaving a small complement of guards on the wrestling pair, Lara, and Orm to whisper poison in his ears. Trevis turned to his half-brother. “You too, Orm.”

Kara’s mask was corrected, a guard relieved her of the boy, who still lunged at the King whenever an opportunity presented itself. Lara stood beside him, but Kal barely spared a glance for his mother, and her pleas that he return to himself.

“Magic,” Trevis stated plainly. “Magic and an assassination attempt. This was a common tactic back in my grandfather’s day.”

“He ate a dessert meant for me,” Kara said. “Do you think...?”

“This isn’t your fault,” Trevis said. “But you may have also been a target.”

“How do we save him?” Lara asked, her voice strained. “My baby…”

The two guards holding Kal back looked at each other uncomfortably, and Trevis cleared his throat. “In the past… The only way to break the curse is to kill the caster. Or the victim.”

“What?!” Kara and Lara both shouted at the same time.

“It is treason to make an attempt on the king’s life!” one of the guards snapped.

“Well, he is clearly not in control of his own mind,” Trevis retorted. “I always did think that part was an over-reaction on my grandfather’s behalf.”

“You Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. “I believe I recognize this spell. It is unbreakable, yes, but limited. It will only activate when the child is within a certain radius of you.”

The King sighed. “Regrettable, but at least this is manageable.”

“Manageable?” Lara asked.

“Exile.” He said the word with no pleasure, but simple resignation. He said more too, as did Lara, but Kara barely heard them, a dull ringing in her ears. A guard fetched her a seat, and she sat in it bonelessly, hands combing and rebraiding her hair.

Exile. Kal could not be allowed within the walls of Atlantis ever again. Not so long as Trevis lived. Lara insisted on going with Kal, to the surface. The world up there was different, far more xenophobic towards those it deemed unnatural, and she didn’t want to see him slipping up.

“Kara, honey,” Lara said softly, crouching to meet her eye level. “You can stay here if you prefer.”

Kara felt her whole world slipping away from her for a second time. She looked from Lara, to Kal, and then to Trevis. The man whose face had replaced her own father’s. And the woman who had saved her from a dying planet.

“I’ll go to the surface with you,” she said. “But not forever. One day, I’ll come back. And I will be Queen.”

Want more? Follow up in Wonder Woman 74, Aquaman 56 - Never a God

Wonder Woman #74/Aquaman #56: Never A God

Aquaman: << | < | [>]

Wonder Woman: << | < | >

Author: Predaplant

Books: Aquaman/Wonder Woman

Event: Time Out

Set: 92

Recommended Reading: Power Girl #12

It was a day like any other day.

Diana woke up early, well before the sun on the winter morning, and got in some lasso training on the range that they had set up for her. It was a standard routine for her. Unfortunately, this meant that it was predictable, and exploitable.

She was nowhere near Arthur, and that meant they wouldn’t have to worry about her. At least, not if they worked fast.

It was a small team of three. The idea was to get in and out as quickly as possible. Arthur was a royal who had been training, which meant that they had to be cautious… but they also had a secret weapon on their side.

It was never going to be a contest. Arthur was still sprawled asleep in his bed when they snuck in. The one in the lead quickly grabbed his arms, pinning them to his sides, while the other two grabbed his head, muffling him in the process, and his legs. He fought and thrashed, hard, but he was too secure to move. They rapidly made their escape through the window and down to the shore, running past joggers on the beach as they entered the water and disappeared from sight.

Of course, that meant that they had been seen. That wasn’t really a major problem for them, though: Arthur’s disappearance would obviously be noticed, and they had disappeared into the ocean. Hard to track them much further from there.

That wasn’t going to stop Diana from trying, though. Arthur had agreed to the implanting of a subdermal Justice Society communicator and tracker so that he didn’t have to worry about a regular communicator detaching underwater, which was lucky for them because it meant they didn’t have to take on the near-impossible task of searching the entire ocean.

They had a location. As Diana climbed into the diving gear, she knew that she was going to get Arthur back, no matter what it took.

WWWWW

Arthur sat in his prison cell underwater, steaming with rage and humiliation. He was supposed to be one of the strongest and most capable heroes in the world, and yet he had been taken down here like it was nothing. It really stung.

He guessed that these were his mother’s people, the reason why he had all these powers. The ones that he had never met. It was really humbling, in a way: he had tried so hard to master them, to use them to their fullest potential, and yet they had managed to immobilize him with water so quickly and cleanly that he hadn’t been able to move, plus they had managed to hold him captive while on land.

Clearly, there was still so much to learn, so much technique that he didn’t have. Maybe if they ended up freeing him, he could learn from them.

He doubted that it would be that simple, though, considering how he had been brought here. It was very likely that they intended to either execute him or imprison him for life, and neither option would be very pleasant.

Good thing he could always call for help if he needed it. Stealing a glance at the prison guards outside his cell, he touched the point on his skin where his Justice Society communicator was implanted, attempting to make it look natural.

“You can’t hold me prisoner here forever, you know. You may have took me by surprise, and it might have seemed like you could handle me easily, but I have powerful friends. They’ll come looking for me, and they’ll bust me out of this underground cell.”

The guards didn’t respond or take heed. Arthur took his finger off of the transmitter. He just had to hope that his execution would take long enough that Diana and the others could come free him.

∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿

“You’re over the tracker,” came Chloe’s voice over Diana’s communicator.

Diana replied with one word, “Descending,” before plunging from her flight over the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, submerging deep into the waves.

It was an unnerving dive. She couldn’t see anything, so she switched on the headlamp that she had brought… and yet there was still nothing in sight.

She started to lose her sense of orientation. She had to blindly trust that the direction that she was heading in when she started was down, and that she wasn’t veering off course.

She felt the pressure push down on her, all around her, a constant weight, always increasing. Her body may have been able to handle it, at least according to the tests she had done before the mission at the Justice Society headquarters, but it was distinctly unpleasant. Yet there was still much more water to dive through: there was still no sight of any base where Arthur might be held.

She pressed on.

Finally, after an unbearable amount of time, Atlantis came into view. With all the dark water around her, it was hard to gain any sense of perspective; at first, it looked like a star, a small glint in the darkness.

As she grew closer, it started to resemble a Christmas ornament: a tiny glass ball filled with glittering lights. It continued to grow, until its scale was clear: an entire city, wrapped in a dome. Diana was amazed, but she wouldn’t let it distract her from her mission: she had to find her friend.

She approached one of the gates, the entrances to the city. She marvelled at the fact that anybody could live under such great and constant pressure as this, at the bottom of the sea. As she swam into the gate, the guard nodded at her, noting her diving suit.

“We’ve been expecting you. Please, this way.”

She was escorted into the guardhouse, where she was made to wait. Diana hated waiting when she could be doing something, could be finding Arthur and freeing him, but the city was too large: there was no hope that she would be able to come across him if she broke her way in, and there would be far too large a force against her if they tried to stop her.

Plus, they had managed to stop Arthur with only a few people, so she had to be wary of that, too.

Eventually, a woman entered the room, sitting opposite Diana. She had short blonde hair and, strangely, was wearing a small mask. The guards who had brought Diana into the room had been maskless.

“Welcome to Atlantis,” the woman told Diana. “My name is Kara, and I’m the queen.”

“What have you done with Aquaman?” Diana asked.

Kara chuckled. “Aquaman. When we heard about him, we laughed. Thought it was a silly name.”

“He can be a bit of a silly person,” Diana replied. “But he’s my friend, and ally, and I would like him back.”

“He’s become a bit of a figurehead here among some rebel groups,” Kara explained. “I’m sorry, but we need to deal with him privately.”

“How dare you take him captive? This man has done nothing against either you or Atlantis!” Diana tried to gesture with the strength of her words, but it was difficult with the diving gear and pressure.

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Kara said. “His very existence stands against me, for some believe that he’s the rightful ruler.”

“You’re going to execute him, then. To secure your claim to the throne.”

Diana couldn’t see Kara’s face behind her mask, but she could tell that the woman was smiling. “I’m sorry. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the only way I can ensure peace. Atlantis has been embroiled in enough civil war in my lifetime, and this needs to stop.”

“He’s an innocent man,” Diana said, pulling out her lasso. “He’s helped more people than you can imagine, and I’ll do anything to protect him.”

Kara laughed. “Perfect. You want to fight for his freedom? Name the place, and we’ll go.”

WWWWW

After some deliberation and consultation with Chloe, Diana chose an island in the Azores. Close enough to their location to not go too far out of their way, but crucially, on land. There was no way that Diana would be able to survive a loss of oxygen on the ocean floor, after all.

Diana surfaced on the beach and pulled off her diving gear. Nervously, she watched the other woman pull off her mask to reveal a tight smile. She wasn’t nervous about fighting on land, Diana noted. Arthur always felt more comfortable fighting in the water when they could manage it, and she was surprised that Kara hadn’t tried to take advantage of that and ambushed her underwater.

But with Kara’s mask providing her oxygen, it was clear that she might not actually be a full Atlantean… and if that was the case, Diana understood her hesitation. In any case, Diana would not complain.

She pulled out her lasso, and prepared to face Kara.

“Right, let’s begin,” Kara said, and in the blink of an eye, before Diana could react, she was slammed into the ground by an immense force, leaving a trail on the rocky shore of the beach. She was repeatedly pummelled as she struggled to catch her breath, to gain an understanding of what she was even facing.

This woman may have been the strongest foe she had ever found herself up against. Gritting her teeth, Diana weathered the maelstrom of attacks. She attempted to pull her lasso out and around the woman attacking her, but Kara noticed and backed away from Diana.

Diana caught her breath, and started to twirl her lasso in an attempt to throw it at Kara. A blow made her stumble backwards, though, as a sharp pain hit her skin on the arm twirling the lasso, burning her and causing her to lose her grip.

How was Kara doing that? No matter. Diana had seen weirder. Refocusing on Kara, Diana noticed a hint of a smile on Kara’s face, before she disappeared.

Diana quickly felt the sting of a burn on the back of her neck. Spinning around, she managed to locate Kara, floating in the air behind Diana, before she lost sight of her again.

Kara stung her once more, this time on the side of her leg. Diana grimaced. She couldn’t let Kara distract her like this. She swung her lasso in an arc around her, low at first before getting higher. Kara would have to fall into it at some point, surely, if she wanted to approach… and if she didn’t, the burns wouldn’t be enough to take Diana down.

Diana felt her arm almost wrench out of her socket. Kara had grabbed the far end of the lasso, stopping it in its tracks, and the force of her spins had rebounded back up Diana’s arm.

Kara looked at it, curious. “Really? A rope? What is that going to do against me?”

“It’s not just a rope,” Diana said. “It’s a gift from the gods. It never tears, and it can generate infinite slack when I need it to.”

“I still fail to see what you aim to do by using it against me.”

Panting, Diana smiled up at her. “Don’t you think that it’d be better for everybody if we just went back to Atlantis and you talked things through with Aquaman? If you worked on a compromise that addressed the rebels’ complaints and still kept your people safe?”

Kara shook her head. “Not better for everybody. It would be better for everybody else, but not for me. It would cause me to lose my grip on power.”

“But power serves the people, yes?” Diana asked. “Therefore, it makes sense for you to do what helps others, even at cost to yourself.”

“Yes,” Kara agreed. Realizing what she had said, she dropped the lasso as if she had touched a hot stove. “What am I saying? What have you done to me?”

“The lasso has a magical ability to make anybody caught in its snare tell the truth,” Diana said as she eyed Kara warily. Would she attack in retaliation? “You may deny it, but you know deep down that what you said is true.”

Kara slowly turned her head to look at Diana.

∿∿∿∿∿∿∿∿

Arthur turned his head to the cell door as a woman with red hair entered. She looked down at Arthur and chuckled.

“Well, you don’t seem all that lively for somebody who’s supposedly the heir to the throne.”

“Wait, what?” Arthur said, blinking. “Are you telling me I’m supposed to be, like, the king of this place?”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “So you don’t even know?”

“No!” Arthur protested. “I never knew my mother, so if it’s through her, I was never told anything.”

She laughed. “Well. That changes things, but it wasn’t completely unaccounted for. In any case, I just wanted to let you know that your partner Wonder Woman is in the midst of combat against the current Queen of Atlantis in an attempt to secure your safety.”

“I believe in her,” Arthur said without hesitation.

“You haven’t met the Queen,” she replied, shaking her head. “I suspect we’ll hear back from them within the hour. In the exceedingly likely possibility our Queen wins, your trial for supporting a rebellion will begin shortly afterwards.”

“What’s the point of trying me?” Arthur asked her. “I know nothing, and I haven’t done anything.”

“We have to see if that’s true.”

Arthur sat against the wall, thinking for a few seconds. “You know, instead of putting me to trial, if I’m the heir to the throne, wouldn’t it give you more legitimacy if I was working with your Queen instead? There’s no need to perpetuate cycles of death and pain. I may not know much about Atlantis, but I’d be happy to learn. To talk to the people, and really represent their interests in a way that satisfies them. Then you won’t have a rebellion, because we’ll be able to move past it together rather than just squashing it.”

The woman stayed silent. After a moment, she turned and left the cell, shutting it behind her.

Arthur waited patiently in the silence. He hoped that he had managed to convince her.

He hoped that Diana would win.

But now, all he could do was wait.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too long before he spied somebody else approaching the cell, somebody in a full diving suit. After a moment of confusion, Arthur realized it must be Diana.

“You won?” he called out to her.

“We drew,” came her reply.

Making her way around the diving suit was a woman wearing a diadem and a small breathing mask, clearly the queen of this place. “We decided to give you a chance to work with us. If you cross us and use your position to try and overthrow us, we won’t hesitate to crush you, though. Don’t forget you’re not in charge here.”

“I’ve never been in charge anywhere,” Arthur laughed. “I’ll do whatever I need to make sure we find the best solution possible, for everyone. That’s what the Justice Society’s all about, after all.”

And so, Kara released Arthur from his cell, and they went off together to help plan a future for the city under the sea.

Aquaman: << | < | [>]

Wonder Woman: << | < | >

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