DCU: Blacklist

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

To the attention of the readers who enjoy reading an intelligent main character like Miles will definitely like my original story, Arrival : Ruptures. Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.



Gotham

Sportsmaster was left in a mental asylum. With his consciousness locked deep in his mind, he was no different from a lobotomized individual.

He had been found drooling in the street by a kind lady who had called the emergency services. Seeing his burnt-out state, they tried to reach out to family. Upon realizing the individual was a criminal and that the family wanted nothing to do with him, his fate was set now.

Miles knew the League of Assassins would be on the lookout for Sportsmaster. The fate of an agent, whether dead or gone rogue, could not be left uninvestigated.

He had given Artemis and her mother emergency transponders. Should the League of Assassins target them, he would send reinforcements.

He was about to leave for Metropolis. A purse snatcher, however, had a different idea. He had stolen from an old lady. Amazo was just about to interfere when a fist extended from behind them.

It knocked the would-be snatcher out cold.

He chuckled at the sight of Eel O'Brian, a.k.a. Plastic Man. The hero had stretched his legs up, waving at the crowd for the photos.

He should talk to the man soon.


Metropolis

There was a theft attempt on the Clean Energy Research Center by Captain Cold. The cryo tech developed must have impressed Snart for him to come to Metropolis. His cryotic armaments might work against Flash, but Superman was a different matter.

The security was recently switched to the latest iteration of Morrow's androids. Snart was caught before he could even enter the lower levels. It was a pity that his code made him unwilling to work under someone. His talents could have been useful.

"O Captain, my captain, trying to steal from me?" he asked.

"Just call the cops and get this over with," Snart replied.

Miles wagered the villain's costume would be awfully hot if they removed all the cryotech.

"How cold."

He looked down at the petty criminal. "The law enforcement is on the way. Don't let me see you around my property again, Leonard."

The human element of the security had already called the police, and they were minutes away. If the thief had disappeared, there would be too many questions.

It had paid off to have such an advanced security system.


"I don't know where you even found Thomas Morrow, but it is a good thing that you did. A theft would have been a blow to our prestige," Mary said.

He was visiting her office to discuss official business once Captain Cold was taken away. Meanwhile, Claire and Baraka were sweeping the building for bugs.

Amazo had left to consider the meaning of life on the moon.

"It would have been," he agreed.

"Your new friend is?" she asked, looking at the short, black-haired female dressed in a suit.

"This is Helix Aegis, your new bodyguard," he introduced. The android transformed her arm into a plasma cannon and back in demonstration.

"Do you think I need one?" She could do with hired security too. An Android seemed a bit overkill.

"Captain Cold's attempt was a sign that we have become important enough to draw the eyes of less than desirable people. Better safe than sorry."

Leonard Snart was the first, but by no means would he be the last.

"True."

"Ma'am." Aegis moved to stand at the corner of the room, waiting.

"She is an extremely advanced android. Coupled with the teleporter, you have nothing to worry about." The staff most likely to be targeted had emergency transponders to be teleported out of danger.

"Nice to have such a caring boss."

Once her security detail was updated, the matter turned to the company. The profit margin was off the charts. The advanced technology and the metahuman recruitment drive cut down on labor, energy, and material costs. Even with the above-market-rate salaries, the company had profited two billion dollars in just six months since the start of operations.

An incredible feat.

When it became evident just how much profit there was in having the metahumans work for you, just about every other company on Earth started the same. However, a simple advertisement campaign made the EnviroCorps the primary choice.

We don't recruit for profit; we recruit because we are against discriminating.

It had forced everyone else to offer far more than EnviroCorps.

The meteoric rise had the company and the competitors on edge. Especially when every inquiry and inspection came clean.

Now, the next part of the company's plans could begin. A fusion reactor for cheap, clean, and virtually limitless energy. Building the reactor in the United States was not possible due to the political climate.

The myriad of lobbies would never let such a revolution happen without having their share of the pie.

Which is why the first reactor would be built in Europe. A single reactor could power the electric grid of an entire nation, though several smaller ones would be better for redundancy. The danger of a nuclear accident did not exist as well. Mary suggested Germany as the location.

Europe as a whole was big on clean energy. A fusion reactor would be irresistible for them. Germany had the industrial base and a coastline for deuterium extraction from the sea.

Work on opening the EnviroCorps Germany branch had already begun. Once the fusion reactor that would power his holdings in Metropolis was online, it would be all the proof necessary for the world.

—

Pamela had cleaned the pollution in the Crime Alley in record time. Her breed of fungi was being sold to countries suffering from the same kind of environmental issues. All the profit was hers to do as she wished.

He, too, was buying her fungi to clean all the land he had bought for cheap.

Now, she had started her work on developing resistant crops for the famine-stricken parts of Africa. He would work on stabilizing the continent. Ending all armed conflict was the beginning.

Starting with Zambezi.

It was a country that did not exist on his Earth. Yet, the conflicts remained the same. Richard Jiwe, a reverend and peace activist, had been elected as the president. His half-brother, Mustapha Maksai, had staged a coup and executed the man.

Richard's daughter, Mari Jiwe, had escaped to the United States. Under the name Mari McCabe, she was a businesswoman and model who fought crime as the heroine Vixen.

She yearned for revenge but had yet to take it.


New York City

Vixen operated at night. The Tantu Totem allowed her to tap into the morphogenetic field of Earth, otherwise known as the Red. It made tracking her difficult.

She was currently chasing a drug dealer. The teleporter had landed him, Claire, and Baraka right on the path of the man.

Claire cracked her knuckles. The criminal was looking back for Vixen. When he saw something at the edge of his vision, it was too late. Her punch had slammed him to the ground.

The orange-costumed heroine came to a stop. Her brown eyes examined the trio before her.

"Thanks for the help," Vixen said. Her stance looked relaxed at first glance. He knew better.

"I abhor the thought of meddling in a hero's pursuit, but I wanted to speak to you. Miles Beckett, at your service." He took his hat off.

"Is this about the Tantu Totem?" she asked.

He knew those that practiced mystical arts would be on the hunt for the totem. Her suspicion was natural.

"While it is an interesting artifact, no. This is about taking down your uncle, Mustapha Maksai."

Vixen's wry smile vanished at the mention of the man who had killed her father.

"Why? What did he do to you?"

Maksai did not have a reason to send assassins after her. Either this person had a beef with her uncle or something to get out of removing him.

"Me? Nothing," he admitted. A common cause would have helped in earning Vixen's trust. "I have never even seen him in person. But his acts have reached my ears. I want him gone as a step towards putting an end to all the armed conflict in the continent."

She squinted her eyes slightly at the grand and altruistic-sounding plan.

"Why don't we speak somewhere else?" This was too important to speak about in a stinking alley.


Once the drug dealer was tied up for the cops, they found an empty park to sit down and talk.

"What do you get out of stabilizing the continent?" she asked. No one would try to stabilize an entire continent without earning something in return.

It was just a matter of knowing what Miles Beckett wanted.

"Ever heard of Darkseid?" he asked.

"No. Some new villain?" If so, the individual was either an edgelord or actually dangerous.

Miles smiled and played the recording of the battle between Darkseid and the Justice League. Amazo was kind enough to give these to him.

"He is the God of Evil from the planet Apokolips. He wants the entire universe under his tyrannical boot," he explained as the video progressed.

A small "oh" was all she could utter at the sight of a monster fighting the Justice League. Not only was this Darkseid holding his own, but he was also actually pushing the League back.

Even through the recording, her instincts screamed danger.

"Do you remember the incident at Jump City?"

"How can I not?" Over a thousand people dead due to the appearance of Satan was not something one could forget.

"The creature responsible for it was a mere avatar of the real deal," he said, showing Vixen the recording of Superman striking the four-eyed demon to no avail.

Her instincts were screaming again.

Vixen's exuberance was gone. These monsters were far out of her level. Which made them extremely deadly to the ordinary people.

"Is there some sort of secret power in Africa that can defeat them?" she asked with a creased brow. Otherwise, there was no sense in this man's desire to intervene in Africa.

"In a sense. The power of a unified Earth has the greatest chance to protect humanity from these extinction-level threats."

At least, that is what he believed. Taking the Anti-Life equation to wipe out evils such as Darkseid and Trigon.

"You want to unify the planet? Good luck with that," she scoffed. The politicians and dictators like Maksai would sooner bend over for Darkseid than unify to save the Earth.

"Do you want to free Zambesia, or not?" he asked. Vixen's belief in his plans was not necessary. Only her help in taking down the dictator of Zambesia.

"Why should I trust you?"

The assistance of someone who could acquire these recordings would be great.

If she could trust him.

"Hey there," a voice came from the sky. "Hope I am not interrupting."

"Superman?!" Vixen exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch. "What are you doing here?"

The Man of Tomorrow landed next to the bench, fist bumping with Miles.

"My friend here told me that a fellow hero might need an assurance," he explained. The conversation regarding Miles' plan to save a country from a dictator had not escaped his hearing. He still wasn't sure about interfering in a country like this, but Mustapha Maksai was a murderous despot.

If he could be brought to justice, then he was all for it.

"I, well," she stumbled. "I suppose you can't ask for a better reason to trust someone."

"Thank you, Superman, I appreciate this," Miles said.

Superman beamed. "Happy to help. Now if you excuse me, I have work tomorrow."

As quickly as he had arrived, Clark left New York City.

"What did you have in mind for Mustapha?"

The plan was simple. Zambesia was a poor nation. So were its armed forces. If Maksai and his generals were to be taken into custody, he could be forced to order his men to stand down.

However, there was a small issue.

There was no digital infrastructure for Zalika to hack to know Maksai's plans. This mission required an infiltrator to pull off a feat similar to the one at the Herrera family's estate.

He just had the opportunity to see one of the best infiltrators in the world in action.


Gotham

Vixen was putting her work on hold in preparation for her trip to Zambesia. Meanwhile, he would recruit the specialist.

It was relatively simple to get O'Brian's attention. If a person in need screamed in Gotham, rarely anyone except a hero would respond.

The second Plastic Man heard a maiden in despair, he came swinging, ready to fight. All he saw in the alley were three people waiting for him.

"Plastic Man."

"Is this my first ambush by villains?" O'Brian slapped his hands to his cheeks very deliberately, mouth open in a circle. "Man, I am getting more famous than I thought."

The clown act was just that, an act.

"I would have called, but Batman keeps an eye on you."

"Not an ambush? That's disappointing." Now the hero turned his head away, pouting.

Just as fast, he was back to smiling. "So, what do you guys want? An autograph? You didn't need to draw me here for that. I am always ready for my adoring fans," he said, pulling out a marker.

"I want your help in infiltrating the residence of a dictator and arresting him," Miles said.

Plastic Man sputtered. "Come again?"

Once O'Brian understood that the situation was serious, he dropped the act. As a former crook who had turned over a new leaf, helping arrest a dictator sounded cool.

He explained the situation in Zambesia. Starting with how Maksai had executed his half-brother, the late President Richard Jiwe, in a bloody coup. Followed by how the people suffered under his rule.

If Plastic Man helped, they could free the nation without spilling any further blood.

"Gee, man, I don't know. Who are you anyway? How do you know Batman?" Plastic Man's neck extended, and he looked down at Miles.

"We are friends. I would call him, but you know how he is about people, even if they are friends, moving around in Gotham."

"Yeah, you're right," he admitted, shrinking his neck back.

"What say you we take this to the Crime Alley? I want to see how the rebuilding efforts are going," Miles said. The Crime Alley, which would need a new name soon, was close to their location.

"Interested in Gotham, eh?" he asked.

For someone who had grown poor as he had, it was great to see that some things in this city actually change.

"I should be. I am funding half of the project."

O'Brian's eyes literally burst out of their sockets before going back. He knew that would interest the superhero. Once he saw the work in person, he would not need the assurance of Batman to join him.

In truth, he could handle the whole matter of Zambesia without Plastic Man. However, he was one of his favorites.

A goofball with the versatility to be one of the most troublesome superpowered individuals on the planet.

He wanted to be friends.



In the next chapter:

Once he was back home, Miles took everyone out for dinner. The sun was slowly setting down, and they deserved a treat after Zambesia.

It was going great. The place was fancy, the food was delicious, and the waiter was unnaturally beautiful. In itself, he would only question why she was working here rather than try her hand at modeling. If he was in a particularly relaxed mood, that is.




Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

To the attention of the readers who enjoy reading an intelligent main character like Miles will definitely like my original story, Arrival : Ruptures. Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.



Gotham

"Alright, you made your point. Now, what's this about a dictator?" Plastic Man asked. He had gone through the construction sites in the Crime Alley and saw that Miles was actually doing good work.

"Mustapha Maksai staged a coup and executed his half-brother, Richard Jiwe, the elected president. We are going to arrest him, neutralize his forces, and leave him to justice. Zambesia will be freed, the first step in stabilizing Africa."

O'Brian whistled. "That sounds big. Really big."

"It is. Scared?" he asked. Plastic Man may not take a lot of things seriously, but toppling a dictatorial regime was one.

"Me?" O'Brian's head grew to ridiculous proportions. "Absolutely not. I just don't think Batman will be happy if I suddenly start helping take down foreign governments."

Batman kept an eye on Plastic Man, both because he felt responsible and because of how dangerous he was.

"If all you need is his permission, I can call him," he said, pulling out his phone to call Batman.

"As if. We just have to be quiet, that's all."

Miles put the phone back in his pocket. People rarely took pleasure in requiring another individual's permission.

"Zimbase is poor thanks to Maksai. There will be no digital records of you. We also give you a bit of a makeover, and you are just another person that has elasticity as a superpower," he said. Claire handed over a black-colored suit to O'Brian.

Plausible deniability was a wonderful notion.


New York City

"You have teleportation?! Man, that's awesome," O'Brian said. The hero did not need much in the way of preparation. Officially, he needed some alone time. With the wonders of teleportation, he would be back in Gotham in no time.

"Can I rely on your discretion on this matter?" he asked.

"Don't worry," O'Brian said, turning his lips to a zipper and pulling it shut.

He turned to the shadows. "Now, we have one more companion to take with us."

He didn't have the sharp senses necessary to detect an individual like Vixen. But his new gear bypassed that necessity.

Mari stepped out of the shadows, tilting her head at the new, and rather vibrant, addition. "Who is this?"

The figure was somewhat familiar. Perhaps she had seen him on TV but couldn't remember more.

"Plastic Man, he is a local hero from Gotham and an acquaintance of Batman."

"Your infiltration expert?"

Plastic Man smirked. His body contorted, settling into the shape of a handbag, a chair, and a door, and finally, merged with the floor itself.

"Alright. I can see how that becomes handy," she said. No one would suspect a common household object to be an infiltrator in disguise.

"Is it just the five of us?" Taking Maksai down wouldn't magically free Zambesia after all.

"We will deal with Maksai and his inner circle. I made arrangements to take down the armed forces."

A small force of androids was already on site, waiting. Zambesia's armed forces were akin to thugs with machine guns.


Zambesia

D'Mulla

"You can teleport?" she asked. It took her a couple of seconds to get her bearings once the location had changed so abruptly.

"Yes. Welcome back to Zambesia," he said, holding out a hand towards the downtrodden city.

Vixen hung her head. "It looks worse than I remember." Her memories of Zambesia were brighter. Now, everything looked gray and depressing.

"I doubt Maksai ever cared to improve anything except his own comfort."

The mention of her uncle broke Vixen out of her musings. "Where is he now?"

His head tilted at the tallest building in sight. "Hotel Continental. It used to serve high-value investors in the past. While Maksai is mobile most of the time, he enjoys the amenities enough to make regular returns."

Locating Maksai proved to be easier than initially assumed. The hotel was one of the few places in the capital with proper utilities and was heavily defended. A creature of comfort like Mustapha Maksai was bound to be there.

Satellite imagery had confirmed as much.

"My time to shine," Plastic Man said, stretching his arms and legs before twisting his torso.

"He is on the top floor now."

O'Brian flashed a giant thumbs up and left to carry out his mission.

"Can we really trust that guy? He doesn't seem to take anything seriously," Claire asked after the man was out of earshot.

"It's a mask. Just enjoy the show."

There was a reason Batman saw Plastic Man as one of the more dangerous heroes should he go full villain.


He slipped through the gaps in the barbed wire surrounding the hotel. In the dark of the night, his new, deep black-colored costume made him appear like a shadow. The soldiers guarding the perimeter did not seem interested in their jobs. He could have just strolled to the hotel, but this was actually serious.

Squeezing inside the drainpipe, he wiggled upwards to the roof. He came out with the other hand and stretched his torso down to the window. Maksai was inside, sprawled on a queen-sized bed.

Eel forced his fingers beneath the window and pushed it up. Slithering up to the bed, he flicked Maksai on the nose. The dictator twitched but did not wake up.

"Wakey, wakey," a voice sang.

"Huh, what?" Maksai muttered, waking up. He went back into the la-la-la land with a punch.

He stretched his body, wrapping around the man like a cocoon. Climbing out the way he came, Eel reached the roof again.

Extending his arms on each corner of the roof, he walked to the other hand. He slingshotted himself to where his friends were waiting.

The guards were unaware of anything.


"Make way for delivery," O'Brian's voice came from the night sky. He had stretched into a parachute, gently floating down with Maksai.

Claire raised her hands with open palms. She didn't doubt Miles, but it was hard to take this guy seriously. Until now, at least.

Vixen was bristling. The bastard that had killed her father lay defenseless in front of her. For all the hot, blinding fury coursing in her veins, she didn't know what to do.

"Ta da, one dictator delivered as promised. Sign here, please," O'Brian said, holding out his fist.

Miles was all too happy to oblige.

"What do we do with this guy?" Baraka asked. Africa was filled with dictators like him. He would love nothing more than to make Maksai live a sliver of the hell he had brought down on Zambesia.

"His generals are dispersed over the city. We make Maksai gather them in one place. The rest will fall in place," he said. If they didn't, the androids would ensure compliance.

The plans on handling dictators were getting a bit repetitive, but as long as they worked, there was no reason to change anything.

He glanced at Vixen. "Care to handle it? I wager he'd fear you more than any of us."

Vixen closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did not want to do anything rash. Opening her eyes, she nodded.

Baraka dumped a bucket of cold water on Mustapha. The unconscious man was jolted awake, searching for a pistol on his belt.

His purple silk robe did not afford any.

"You," Maksai said, his voice trembling, just like his body.

He had hunted her and the Tantu Totem for years. He had killed her father. And now, he was at her mercy.

"Yes, me," Vixen growled deeply. She looked like a tiger ready to pounce and tear her prey to ribbons.

"You are going to summon all your generals and other high-ranking staff members."

"Why would I do that?"

Vixen touched her talisman. She must have chosen a rather large animal, because when she stomped the ground next to Maksai's feet, the ground caved.

Mustapha pulled his leg away, eyes wide open.

"Otherwise I will do that to you," she warned.

Miles threw a walkie-talkie to Mustapha. The general took it with shaking hands.

"One wrong word, uncle, and you will beg for mercy." Her threat seems to have done the job.

"This is General Mustapha. Summon all my staff for an emergency meeting right now," he ordered.

The response was quick. "As you command, general."

Vixen took another deep breath. Miles knew she would have killed him if the confrontation had been violent.

"You are a despicable waste of a human. My father was a good man; he only wanted the best for Zambesia. But you were a jealous piece of crap, and look where it led you," she said, letting out the hatred in her heart. Killing him was not worth betraying who she was.

Not that he had a problem with Mari killing Maksai.

"Will you kill me?" the cowardly man asked. Miles half expected him to beg.

"No. We are going to let the people of Zambesia decide your fate. You will be lucky if they stick you in a four-by-four hole for the rest of your life."

With those words, Vixen reverse kicked Mustafa back into unconsciousness.

"Hey, are you alright?" Plastic Man asked. His jubilant tone had given way to a somber one.

"I will be, as soon as we free Zambesia."


Hotel Continental

Next Morning

"Where is the general?"

"He is late. We will have to wait."

The chatter among the staff was interrupted when the door flew off its hinges. It slammed into a colonel, rendering him unconscious.

A woman dressed in an orange suit stepped inside, cracking her knuckles. "Don't worry, guys, we'll keep you company."

Bringing weapons to a meeting with General Mustapha was forbidden. They were unarmed, but so was this attacker. A colonel raised his chair, ready to throw it. Something reached down from the ceiling and caught it.

It swung the chair back into the colonel's face.

"Geez, didn't you guys learn any table manners?" A voice mocked them from above. The ceiling melted to the ground like wax, taking the shape of a man.

Two more people entered the room, covered in armor from head to toe. The female set her hands on fire, and the male glowed like a Christmas tree.

"I remember you. You are Richard's daughter, aren't you? Back for revenge?" One of the prisoners, a general with one too many medals pinned to his chest, spoke.

"I am back to free this country from you bastards."

"We can give you a couple of minutes with them if you want," Claire offered. In her position, she definitely would have.

"No. They aren't worth it."

Miles walked in, pushing Maksai forward. "Take a seat, general."

"The armed forces are down," he said. The androids had made quick work of the grunts. Now, there was only one objective left. "I am sure the people will appreciate it if one of their own announces Maksai's fall."

Mari took the phone.

—

The androids had placed holoprojectors across the city. The people, going on with their lives, stopped when the image of a woman appeared over the buildings.

"People of Zambesia, I am Mari Jiwe, daughter of the late President Richard Jiwe."

"A decade ago, my half-uncle, Mustapha Maksai, staged a coup and executed my father."

There were murmurs. Had Richard's daughter returned to free them?

"Today, his tyranny ends," she said. Her image was gone, replaced with a room where Maksai and his lapdogs were tied up.

"Maksai and his generals are arrested. I call on the people of D'Mulla to rise and take the presidential palace. To take our freedom back."


Mari's speech had the people marching on the palace, as well as administrative and military locations. Strangely, all military personnel in the bases were found tied up. Maksai's cronies in the ministries had to run. Those that did not met the fury of the people breaking the shackles.

This event would come to be known as the One Day Revolution.

"What do we do now? " Baraka asked. He might not be from Zambesia, but damn if it didn't feel personal to him.

"I have already prepared an aid and an investment package. A former minister in exile, Adam Kambale, is already returning to swear in as the interim president," he said, bringing out the man's picture.

He was one of the first ones to receive an anonymous message revealing the downfall of Maksai. Zambesia didn't have many connections to the rest of the world, so it would take a while for word to travel.

He would be long gone by then.

"My father always spoke highly of him," Mari said. Her father did not even have a proper burial. She would first search his remains and dig a grave for him. That is, if there was anything to find.

"Do you want to return with us or would you like to stay for a while?" he asked. She was bound to have some personal issues to handle here.

"I think I'll stay, just to be sure everything works out well."

Miles pointed at an android, then at Vixen. "I'll leave an android with you. When you want to leave, give me a call," he said, handing out a brand new phone to her.

"Thanks for everything," she said, taking the phone.

"Don't mention it."

—

Gotham

"Can't believe we freed a country in less than a day," O'Brian said. He had teleported the group to an alley with no cameras.

He smiled. "How does it feel? To save an entire nation from tyranny?"

"Good, real good," he replied, looking at the setting sun.

"Here. I know you are capable, but in case you ever need help, give me a call," he said, handing another phone out. His connection with local heroes would help in the future when the League expanded its roster.

"Thanks. And again, I won't tell Batman about this little adventure."

"I don't think he will ever ask," Miles said. Bruce was already swamped with work. He wouldn't have many reasons to investigate the events in Zambesia.


Metropolis

Once he was back home, Miles took everyone out for dinner. The sun was slowly setting down, and they deserved a treat after Zambesia.

It was going great. The place was fancy, the food was delicious, and the waiter was unnaturally beautiful. In itself, he would only question why she was working here rather than try her hand at modeling. If he was in a particularly relaxed mood, that is.

What set her apart was her similarity to an individual he knew.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, taller than him, she had the eyes of every male in the room, including him. Though, it was for a different reason.

His watch scanned her discreetly, and his suspicion was confirmed. She wasn't a human.

Taking out a piece of paper, he wrote down his number along with a question for her. If she didn't read it, he would contact her in a different manner.

He had an inkling of her identity, but for now, waiting was the preferable choice.

This was bound to be interesting.




In the next chapter:


"Oh, my head," Audrey groaned as she entered her room.

A glass of cold water was held out to her. "Here, the water will clear your head up a bit."

Watching the young man who held out the water, she then turned to the one in the fedora hat, sitting on her chair. "Thank you."

She took the glass, drinking it slowly. She sat down as the headache subsided slightly.

"How can I help you?" she asked.

The man, the leader, took his hat off. "You are awfully calm for someone who found three intruders in her room."

Audrey raised her shoulders and dropped them. "You are not Northerners, and this isn't the first time someone wanted to speak in private." Though it was the first time they did it in her room.



Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

To the attention of the readers who enjoy reading an intelligent main character like Miles will definitely like my original story, Arrival : Ruptures. Comments, likes and reviews are appreciated. Here are the links for : AO3, Spacebattles, Royal Road and Webnovel.



Metropolis

Miles had given the Kryptonian female an out-of-the-way location. Should it come to blows, which was unlikely to happen, but you never knew with the Kryptonians. The park was on the outskirts of the city and small. Any confrontation would not lead to casualties before the cavalry came in.

"Mr. Fedora," she said, sitting on the other end of the bench. The white blouse did little to hide her tensed muscular frame.

He pulled his hat down slightly. "Ms. Kryptonian."

"How did you even know I am a Kryptonian?" she asked. She had kept her powers secret. No flight, no super strength, no heat ray, nothing.

He flashed her a grin. "Did anyone ever say your appearance reminded them of Supergirl, only more mature? Like an older sister."

Put the two side by side, and anyone would assume they were family.

"Maybe," she crossed her arms. "No one ever assumed I was a Kryptonian because of it."

Miles waved his watch. "A simple DNA scan was all it took."

"What now?" She was ready to snap him like a twig if he attempted to blackmail her.

"What is an unknown Kryptonian doing on Earth, working as a waitress?" His question was perfectly normal, which only set her off.

"If you think I am a problem, it would be the Justice League's, not yours."

"I am a part of the Justice League, behind the scenes, of course."

"Bullshit," she scoffed. She knew everyone in the League, at least the one on her Earth. So far, everything in this dimension had gone exactly as she knew. The man next to her wasn't a part of it.

He pulled out his phone. "Would you like me to call Superman?"

"No, forget it." She shook her head. "You want to know why I am here? It was because my dimension was destroyed, and I had nowhere else to go. I came to this Earth by accident. Metropolis was the only place I knew, so here I am, trying to make a living."

Her explanation was the same as the background of Power Girl.

"My condolences." He removed the hat. "May I ask how it happened?"

"An antimatter wave," she said.

"Was it the Anti-Monitor?" That entity was the only one to release antimatter in an attempt to destroy the multiverse.

"You know that thing?" she asked, turning to face him.

He tilted his head down. "Krona, a rogue guardian, was responsible for the creation of the multiverse." The knowledge behind the creation of the multiverse was only known to few. Now, it includes Power Girl as well.

She cursed under her breath.

"What is your relationship with Supergirl?" he asked.

"I am Kara Zor-L; the Superman on my Earth was my cousin. I am her counterpart."

"Blood related?" He truly did not know whether she was or not.

"Yes?" she asked, her tone rising in pitch towards the end.

"Supergirl isn't blood related to Superman. She is adopted as the last survivor of Argon."

"Huh," she leaned back on the bench, "differences like that were bound to exist."

"Miles Beckett," he introduced, holding his hand out.

She took it, gentle to not crush his hand like a pulp. "Kara, or Karen, whatever you prefer."

"You haven't done anything except work during the time you were here, and I am inclined to agree that you are not up to anything. Should you want to meet Superman, give me a call. I know he'd appreciate having more family," he said.

She had kept a low profile. As an individual that had just lost her second home, her reluctance to interact with counterparts of the family and friends she knew was completely understandable.

"Thanks."

When she did not get up to leave, he put his hat back on. "If you have questions, feel free to ask."

"Who are you, exactly?" She crossed her arms. "There was no Miles Beckett in my dimension who was working with the Justice League."

"I am the spy," he said for the flair. "I keep an eye on dangerous individuals and groups. When it is necessary, I share what I know with the League, and they intervene. The operation against the Intergang was a part of my efforts."

Power Girl could be trusted as a future member of the Justice League.

"What are you working on right now, Mr. Spy? If I can ask, of course," she said, adding the last part after a second.

"We recently overthrew Zambesia's dictator."

She narrowed her eyes. "The League doesn't do that." As an organization solely focused on saving civilians from villain attacks, accidents, and disasters, the Justice League was nonpolitical. They abided by the UN charter on the League, which did include a prohibition on intervening in wars between or in nations as long as metahumans or otherwise enhanced individuals weren't a part of it.

His smirk was infuriating. "They don't."

"Whatever," she gave him a blank look. "I got the day off, so I am just going to sleep in."

"One last question. When was your universe destroyed?" he asked just as she rose from the bench.

She looked back, clenching her fists. "Around a month after the Justice League here was founded."

"Thank you."

That was unexpected.


The ride home was silent as he contemplated the bombshell Karen had just dropped on his lap. He did not believe it was a coincidence even for a second.

An antimatter wave had destroyed her universe, most likely along with many more, just a month after the Justice League had come together on this Earth. The earliest trace on Powergirl dated just three days after his arrival.

Considering it was an application for a job, she had to have spent time creating an identity.

Had the antimatter wave destroyed his universe as well, somehow deposing him in this reality? Or was it a mere side effect?

Entities that could give him an answer were not worth the trouble it would cause.

"You alright, Miles?" Claire asked. It was rare for him to be so contemplative.

"Yes, just considering her situation," he said with a light tone.

Rubbing his forehead, he made a call. "Zalika, find me the phone number of the warden of Stryker's Island Penitentiary."

"I put it on your phone. Do you want me to mask the call?" she asked. He checked the phone, seeing a new name, Draper, appear on his contact list.

"Yes, thank you," he said, ending the call to make a new one.

"Hello?" the voice on the other side asked.

"Mr. Draper, there is going to be a breakout in your prison." He was not in the mood to drag this out.

There was a pause. "Who is this?"

"My name isn't important. Containing the breakout is," he said.

"I don't know who you are, but there will be no breakouts on my watch."

Of course a man like Carl Draper would have to be so prideful.

"Let me make myself clear, you two-bit Saturday cartoon comedic relief character," he said, tone devoid of any inflections. "If you don't increase security, there are going to be inquiries into you allowing experiments on the inmates. Is that understood?"

Draper was silent again. "Yes," he answered, and he could hear the man's teeth grinding together.

"Good. If I hear any unfortunate news, you will be trading rooms on that island." He finally ended the call, rubbing his head again.

Claire chuckled. "I might be the pyrokinetic, but that was a nice burn."

"I aim to please," he said with a wry smile.

Deciding caution was the prudent choice, he called the Watchtower with his League communicator.

"Manhunter, I hope you are having a good day."

"I do. What can I help you with, Miles?" J'onn asked, getting straight to the point. Miles rarely called for pleasure after all.

"I received word of a breakout in Stryker's Penitentiary. I warned Warden Draper, but I wouldn't trust him to take care of a plastic plant."

"I see. I will watch the island and alert the members should it be necessary. Thank you once again."

"You are welcome." With that call, the situation should be contained before John Dee transforms into Doctor Destiny. If not, at least the League would have a much easier time managing the breakout.

"What are we doing now?" Bringing Maksai down was a quick affair. Since her boss left the matter of the breakout to the League, he must have a different idea.

Unless they were going on another break.

He made another call. "Zalika, what do we have regarding Kaznia? Specifically, King Gustav and his daughter, Audrey."

Following the breakout in Stryker's Penitentiary, Vandal Savage's attempt to take over Kaznia was the next chapter. He could get ahead of Savage by acting first. Gustav was old and would die soon even without his intervention.

Audrey could be an ally inside the European Union.

"King Gustav is making great contributions to the new international space station," she reported over the phone. "News says it increases Kaznia's standing on the international stage, but the citizens are suffering for it. As for Audrey, her father seems to be setting up a marriage for her. It's… oh boy."

Her hesitation at the end made it certain.

"Who is it?" he asked, waiting for the name drop.

"Vandal Savage."

Miles smirked, looking out the window of the car. "Seems a trip to Kaznia is in order."


Kaznia

The following day, he left for Kaznia along with Claire and Baraka.

It was a Balkan country ruled by a monarchy. The culture was similar to its neighbors, the language diverse, but unlike the rest of the Balkans, it was rife with political and military disasters.

The Northern Kaznians, the tribes that had never fit in with the rest of the nation, and the Southern Kaznians, the widely recognized legitimate government, were at war. It wasn't all-out battles but guerrilla movements by the Northerners and organized military actions by the Southerners.

Princess Audrey was a party girl. To find her, one had to find the party. In such an unstable country, acquiring an invitation to a party was done at the behest of Benjamin Franklin's likeness.

The most attended, expensive, and loudest party was held at the capital. The elite of Kaznia were present, along with individuals who bought their way in for one reason or another.

The world-class party girl was the center of attention. However, she would eventually be tired. He just had to wait for the opportunity.

In the meantime, he enjoyed the party with his companions.


"Oh, my head," Audrey groaned as she entered her room.

A glass of cold water was held out to her. "Here, the water will clear your head up a bit."

Watching the young man who held out the water, she then turned to the one in the fedora hat, sitting on her chair. "Thank you."

She took the glass, drinking it slowly. She sat down as the headache subsided slightly.

"How can I help you?" she asked.

The man, the leader, took his hat off. "You are awfully calm for someone who found three intruders in her room."

Audrey raised her shoulders and dropped them. "You are not Northerners, and this isn't the first time someone wanted to speak in private." Though it was the first time they did it in her room.

Offering her drugged water would be pointless when she was about to fall into a drunken sleep. Neither their accents nor looks painted them as Northerners or assassins.

"So, what is it? Some business idea you want to bring to my father?" she said, looking for a painkiller in her bedstand.

"What do you know about your future husband, Vandal Savage?" the man asked, and Audrey stopped.

She wasn't expecting that.

"I can assure you, my father doesn't care whether I know my potential husband or not. But he is older than me, terrifyingly intelligent as well as charismatic," she said.

Vandal had won the court and her father over in a short amount of time. It sent chills down her spine to see how easily the man made her father eat from the palm of his hand.

"He is fifty thousand years old. It does give one more than ample time for self-improvement," Miles said, waiting for Audrey to process it in her drunk state.

She sat down again, taking the pill without any water. "Am I too drunk, or did you just say fifty thousand years?"

"Ever wondered why he looked so primitive in a sense?" he asked. One look at Vandal Savage was enough to deduce that the man was different, and not in a known sense.

"Yes?"

"Savage is a caveman who had been mutated by a meteor and acquired immortality. Pity, you would think he'd share that with his future wife," he smirked.

Audrey's eyes widened before shutting as another wave of throbbing assaulted her skull.

"Okay, that's… I'll need proof," she said, massaging her scalp.

"His history does not matter as much as his latest actions do."

He didn't have a way to prove Vandal's presence and multitude of personas throughout history.

Which is why he displayed relevant documents and recordings of Vandal's scheme for time traveling to Nazi Germany for world domination. Everything seemed like a conspiracy to Audrey until she witnessed the time machine fail and Vandal's orders to abandon the project.

"I have no words. Though, it doesn't prove he is fifty thousand years old," she pointed out.

"Does it matter at this point? You are intelligent enough to see why he wants your hand in marriage. Once your father suffers a natural-looking death, you will follow the lead. By then, Vandal would be too beloved for the citizens to care. After all, Gustav's backbreaking taxes do not endear your family to the public," he said.

Even if Vandal wasn't in the equation, the people would only stand so long against Gustav's publicity display to cozy up with the international community.

"I know," Audrey groaned. "What do you want from me? I doubt my father would believe you or even care."

Vandal had too much clout over him for that.

"Let's be honest, princess. Your father doesn't have much time left. Even if Vandal Savage doesn't kill him, he is old enough for stress to be a dangerous factor. But you are young and full of vitality and the sole heir to the throne of Kaznia. You assist me in neutralizing Vandal, and I give you all the backing you need as the queen," he said. Audrey had actually turned out to be a much more benevolent ruler than her father. She would even manage to bring Kaznia into the European Union.

Gustav, on the other hand, was on a time limit.

She let out a wry chuckle. "Being the queen never seemed so great to me."

"Positions of power rarely come with more privileges than burdens. Though, if you want, I can arrange for you to enjoy parties for the rest of your life," he offered.

"And Kaznia?" She touched her country's location on the globe. "Am I supposed to just abandon everything?"

"Viva la Democracia."

"I think I'll stick around. What did you say your name was?" she asked. If she were partnering with an individual, she at least would know his name.

"Miles Beckett," he took his hat off, "a pleasure, Your Highness."



In the next chapter:

"Quite," she chuckled. "I actually wished to meet you for this." She opened the velvet box on the table, presenting the contents to him.

"A watch?" he asked. He knew Audrey's shopping habits. She had rarely bothered to buy a gift. Not even for her father. It appeared to be an attempt to get to know her future husband.

"Yes, a gift for our approaching nuptials."

"How kind of you, princess."

"Since I am calling you Vandal, I insist you call me Audrey."

"Audrey, I am grateful, but I have nothing to give in kind." It was the perfect time to play the benevolent fiancee.

"This was a surprise after all. Won't you put it on?"




Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

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Kaznia

This time, he did not merely intend to let Vandal Savage walk away. They were not in the United States, and the League's reach did not extend to Kaznia.

The plan was simple. Princess Audrey wanted to meet her future husband-to-be. She wanted to know who she would be marrying. A very reasonable request on her part.

Vandal would be unlikely to refuse. The meeting would be a chance to win her over, as he had her father.

What he needed was a reliable way to terminate him, permanently.

Burning him to charcoal was an option, but he wanted something more certain. Such as releasing him to the heat and gravity of the sun.

No kill like overkill.

And he had the perfect delivery method in mind.


"Mr. Savage." Audrey greeted the man her father had chosen for her, closing the door behind her after checking for any prying eyes. Future husband or not, it would look terrible to invite him to her room.

He held his hand out. Once she placed hers with a smile, he landed a light kiss on her knuckles. "Please, princess, call me Vandal."

"Quite an interesting last name," she commented, gesturing for him to take a seat across from her.

"A certain ancestor with a sense of humor is responsible for it. We kept it out of tradition." He explained while moving to take the offered seat.

"Quite," she chuckled. "I actually wished to meet you for this." She opened the velvet box on the table, presenting the contents to him.

"A watch?" he asked. He knew Audrey's shopping habits. She had rarely bothered to buy a gift. Not even for her father. It appeared to be an attempt to get to know her future husband.

"Yes, a gift for our approaching nuptials."

"How kind of you, princess."

"Since I am calling you Vandal, I insist you call me Audrey."

"Audrey, I am grateful, but I have nothing to give in kind." It was the perfect time to play the benevolent fiancee.

"This was a surprise after all. Won't you put it on?"

"Very well."

Vandal wrapped the watch around his wrist. It was ostentatious for his tastes, but appearances had to be kept.

He turned his arm, examining the silver-colored gift in imitation of gratitude. When a silver wave surged from the watch, he did not have the time to react. The metal flowed across his body like a liquid, covering him up to his neck in armor.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared, trying to move to take the watch off.

Audrey rolled her shoulders, turning her attention to the doorway. "Ask him, not me. This was his plan all along."

Vandal couldn't even twitch a finger. Whoever the figures behind him were, he had just been caught defenseless.

A man, dressed in a suit with a coat and a fedora hat, entered the edge of his vision, followed by a ginger woman and a young African man.

"It appears even the wise Vandal Savage lets his guard down in front of such an innocent face."

"Or would you prefer Vandar Adg?" Miles said, testing the last name on his tongue. "How do you pronounce it anyway? Doesn't roll off the tongue so easily. Adg." He repeated the word a couple more times with different pronunciations.

"Who are you?" he asked. The armor would not give no matter what he did. He could not activate the neuroshock to shortcircuit it.

"The man who just trapped you like a rat." The man said with an infuriating smirk.

Vandal was simmering; he could see it.

"What do you want?" A thousand scenarios run through his mind. Most concerned a possible relationship between this man and the princess.

He had never seen the young man before him, ever. If there was a grievance, it was one he did not know of.

"I want to be back home, enjoying a cold glass of iced tea with bruschetta." Vandal stopped struggling, looking at his captor with a blank face.

"Then why aren't you?"

The man clapped, sitting next to Audrey, right across from him. "Because this world has megalomaniacs such as yourself. Someone has to curb you before you become a greater problem."

"I mean, time traveling to Nazi Germany for world domination? What is the point?"

Vandal's eye widened ever so slightly. Either there was a traitor among his ranks, or his base had been infiltrated. Each option was undesirable.

"Humanity…" He started, only for the man to chuckle.

"Will we be better off under your rule? Because you are so old, wise, and experienced? Because you are the natural leader of humanity?"

"Fifty thousand years," he shook his head, "and you never grasped the nature of what you seek to rule."

"Humanity is unruly. We cannot be controlled, not for long. Every empire, every nation, every belief, and every idea must die and leave its place for the new ones. A concept that an immortal like you cannot grasp."

The word "immortal" finally broke Vandal's calm visage. His eyebrows rose, wrinkling his forehead. The number of people who knew he was an immortal was low, and this young man should not be among that number.

"Tribal chiefs left their place to lords and kings. They left it to elected rulers. But you have been the same for fifty thousand years. Sure, you learned and improved yourself, but never changed for the better."

Vandal had fifty thousand years to understand the nature of humanity. That he had not was either a falling on his part or on the part of the writers who had created him.

"That is why you never succeeded in bringing humanity under your rule, ever."

"A well-prepared speech. Did you practice it before a mirror?"

"No, you are not worth the effort." Miles got up from his seat. He flicked a finger up, and so did Vandal. The shell that was encapsulating him forced the ancient caveman to walk.

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement. You appear to be a wise and well-prepared young man." The young man's words—he should really learn his name—did make him question several decisions. He had never shied from an alliance, and there could be an opportunity here.

"Perhaps if you understood how pointless your ideas of conquest are." He didn't have thirty thousand years to spare. Nor would mere words suffice to bring the enlightenment he had achieved after the death of humanity.

Vandal Savage from the future, who had assisted Superman, would make a fantastic ally. There simply was no way for him to exist that included the safety of the human race.

"What now?" he asked.

"Now, you are going to die, for the final time." Savage's brand of immortality meant he would always be resurrected. No matter the method of his execution.

Miles smiled. There were worse fates than death.

"I am an immortal; nothing has been able to kill me for fifty thousand years. What makes you think you will succeed?"

In his long, long life, he had tasted every kind of death. He had always returned.

The armor forced him to the balcony. The sun was at the top, heating the marble floor. He tilted his head back, raising a hand to block the sunlight.

"Believe me, being immortal at where you are about to go is the last thing you want."

"No, no!" Vandal screamed, having realized what the man had in mind. His screams were cut when the armor covered his head as well, silencing him.

The armor took off. The surface rippled, turning reflective. Invisible to sight and scans, its target was the sun.

Miles would be watching the entire journey. Vandal was too dangerous to be allowed to live. The League might thwart him at every turn, but it did not negate the damage he would cause.

He also had the chance to rant.

Fifty thousand years, and Vandal had accomplished nothing more than being several important historical figures.

He watched every second of the journey. The armor glowed red with friction as it left the Earth's atmosphere. Vandal's attempts to break free only slowed down due to the lack of oxygen. By the time the armor entered FTL speeds to reach the sun, Vandal was dead.

His immortality kicked in, resurrecting him, only for the man to die again. The cycle continued until the armor stopped right before the sun's gravity would be too much to handle.

It got worse, even if only for a short while.

He entered the release command on the control panel of his watch. The front of the armor retracted, no longer holding Vandal in place. The gravity pulled him forward, though he was already a roughly human-shaped charcoal within seconds.

The deeper layers of the sun were millions of degrees hot. Vandal's immortality would not be able to restructure anything before it was annihilated. He would be stuck in a limbo of unawareness without a neurological system.

It was as close to death as he would get. Only he, Claire, and Baraka knew where he had been sent to.

Unless someone like the Spectre or the Presence would interfere for some reason, nothing short of a time traveler would be able to save Vandal.

"You sure there was no other method? This seems a bit extreme." Then again, her royal duties did not include ways of killing, especially an immortal human.

"He is fifty thousand years old. Unless you want to pray for a miracle, then it wasn't," Claire said.

She rolled her shoulders. "So what now?"

"Simple. You and I just reached an agreement on an investment of," his eyes glanced upwards, "how much did you say you wanted?"

"Ten billion… for everything?"

He nodded. "Ten billion dollars. I am sure your father will be even more delighted with you than he was with Vandal."

He wasn't investing that amount for charity or because he could. Kaznia would be a part of the EU soon. Having a friend inside was a necessary component of his plans.

Not to mention the economic benefits from investing in a country that would join the eurozone as well.

"The investment resolves the immediate and long-term economic issues, while the contribution to the space station increases Kaznia's standing in the international community. And you are the one who made it happen," he shook her hand.

As he preferred his anonymity, Mary would have to reach out on behalf of EnviroCorps for the investment. His current funds, the company's profit margin, and the gold he had in stock were more than enough.

Ten billion dollars could not be invested in a day. It would take years for the total amount, and he would not have to spare time to smuggle gold out of the USA.

—

"Ten billion dollars? From that new American company? How?"

"He was at the party. I took the opportunity to show him that Kaznia was worth investing in."

Audrey was startled by her father's bellow and the ensuing bear hug. "That's my girl." She stood still, arms slowly reaching to hug back.

She looked up, trying to remember the last time her father had shown such affection. He had given her expensive gifts, allowed her to throw parties, and go on shopping sprees, yet something as simple as a hug was not in his repertoire.

"This deserves a celebration."


Her father's celebration included everything available. Expensive catering, live music, and stunt performers, just so he could announce the success of his daughter.

It was all prepared in a day.

Audrey had taken the chance to unwind from the events of the previous day. This party proved to be the greatest one she had ever attended.

Gustav had lost himself to the party, more than his daughter, for the first and last time ever. As he stood on the podium, ready with his grand speech, he faltered.

What came out of his lips wasn't words, but a hacking. He put a hand over his heart, squeezing the flesh as if it would alleviate the pain.

The crowd was drunk, both on alcohol and merriment. It took them longer than normal to realize Gustav was having a heart attack.

The adrenaline sobered her up quickly. She rushed to her father first, screaming for a doctor. The crowd panicked. Some called for an ambulance, but by the time one arrived an hour later, it was too late.

When Audrey, the new queen of Kaznia, announced the death of her father days later, the civilians rejoiced.

The architect of the heavy taxes was dead. It had drawn the people to the streets to celebrate while the international community mourned the death of a ruler who had made great contributions to science.

Audrey, as the new ruler, had a difficult challenge before her. She started by reducing the taxes and Kaznia's contribution to the space station. The ten billion dollar investment by the EnviroCorps was announced.

She pledged that it would be used to repair the crumbling infrastructure.

Behind the scenes, a quiet purge took place. She had received a list of Vandal's operatives in Kaznia. Several important figures were on it, including the former chamberlain of her father.

As proof of her respect for rule of law, the traitors would be judged by the courts.

Queen Audrey did not stop there. She initiated negotiations with the Northern tribes. Their grievances, which stemmed from cultural, economic, and religious oppression, would be addressed without delay.

Creation of a constitution to guarantee the rights of all who called Kaznia home took place. People from all parts of the country, including the Northern tribe members, were invited to take part.

The European Union had released statements on the subject.

They were pleased with the reforms taking place in Kaznia. An economic relief package was prepared. Observers were sent to the negotiations, and legal help was rendered for the constitution.


Metropolis

Miles nodded in approval to himself. Audrey had just signed a treaty with the Northern tribes. Kaznia would be united, which meant she would follow by applying to join the EU.

She had accomplished it all in two months.

He turned the TV off. He had to be up early tomorrow for work.

Laying on his bed, he felt unsettled. His operations were going excellently, the situation in Kaznia was resolved better than before, and Vandal Savage was dead.

Yet an instinctual feeling would not let him sleep.

He turned over, flipped his pillow, and even went to drink a glass of hot milk. Finally feeling weary enough, he managed to sleep way past the hour he intended to.

But the sleep was not pleasant.

Dreams of memories he would prefer to forget resurfaced. They played one after another, displaying the lows of his life. It all ended with words that resonated in his soul.

"YOU HAVE MEDDLED TOO MUCH."

When he lurched from the bed, drenched in sweat, heaving for breath, it was noon.




In the next chapter:


Baraka opened the door for him and Claire. He quickly took the driver's seat, ready to drive.

"Wait, Miles?!" a very familiar, tired voice called to him. He turned back, hand on the door handle, gazing across the street. He froze for a second, turning his head away to hide his widening eyes.

"Do you know her?" Claire asked, eyes locked on her boss.

"Not at all," he said, opening the door.



Curious about the next chapter? Please consider supporting me on Patreon.

Hello there,

If you enjoy my stories, you can read up to 15 chapters in advance per story on my Patreon page / patreon.com/Samael61.

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Metropolis

Beckett Residence

The words kept repeating in his mind.

He doubted it was his subconscious acting up over the concerns regarding the changes to the future. So far, it has been to his advantage, except for the mess with Aresia. There were countless entities that could look to punish him for the changes done to the timeline.

Which one exactly, he couldn't begin to guess.

"Miles, the car is ready."

"Then let's not make Thomas wait anymore," he said. The teleporter was available, but he wanted to clear his head during the ride. He put on his hat and activated the regulator belt Victor had invented.

It was a lifesaver in summer.

Baraka opened the door for him and Claire. He quickly took the driver's seat, ready to drive.

"Wait, Miles?!" a very familiar, tired voice called to him. He turned back, hand on the door handle, gazing across the street. He froze for a second, turning his head away to hide his widening eyes.

"Do you know her?" Claire asked, eyes locked on her boss.

"Not at all," he said, opening the door.

"Miles, wait. Miles!" The woman shouted, running for the car.

"She seems to know you."

"Baraka, drive," he ordered.

He nodded without turning around, pulling the car out of the driveway. The woman did not let up, banging on the window, but he continued to ignore her.

"Your eyes looked very similar too."

"As I said, I have no idea who either of them are." Even his smile couldn't mask the stern tone.

"Alright." If he did not want to talk about it, she knew better than to push it.

He watched the woman run after the car from the reflection and made a call. "Captain, I want you to post guards around my house. Allow no one to approach the property without my permission."

"Yes sir, immediately."


EnviroCorps Robotics Research Center

He shook the android's hand. "Thomas, I trust you have good news for me?"

The synthetic eyes brightened, pulling him along. "I have finished the design for your mobile base. With the different technological bases you have provided me, it actually came out far better than I anticipated."

Thomas brought the holographic design. The design was angular and long. Six engines were at the back, giving it a thicker appearance compared to the deck.

"Rather than rotors, I used the anti-gravity engines. It is more like a spaceship than a helicarrier, though I wouldn't take it out for a space tour."

"Excellent work, Thomas." The Thanagarian scientists were proving their worth every single day. And all it took was a little game of deception to sic Larfleeze on the Gordanians.

All in a day's work.

"A legion of ACEs will be stationed aboard. Reflective panels for stealth, both visual and radar. The loadout can be changed in hours based on what you need, whether it's rescue and aid or assault."

The images of the Adaptive Combat Exoskeletons appeared first as Thomas demonstrated the capabilities of the base. The reflective panels turned transparent next. The interior changed, adding medical supplies, a triage center, and a cargo hold to carry passengers.

Or more ACEs.

"With Ivo's tech and the new brand of construction bots, I can get it done in six months. Do you have anything in mind for the crew? Otherwise, more ACEs."

"I believe that is for the best," he said. Creating a support base for a human crew would be nigh impossible without compromising the security.

"Getting your own flying fortress, Miles?" Claire asked, walking around the hologram, examining the ship.

"Should I make you the captain?" he offered, eyes crinkling.

"If I get a hat to go with the position, sure."

—

They had stopped for lunch at a cafe, enjoying chicken wraps and frozen Turkish yogurt with fruits. He took out his ringing phone, jaw stopping mid-motion as he saw the name of the caller. Regardless, he answered, wondering what she could have wanted.

"Fedora guy, how is it going?"

"Karen? To what do I owe this surprise?" Her voice was light, so it was unlikely to be an emergency.

"I just saved a woman from getting mugged. She kept muttering about Miles and how he ignored her. When I questioned her on a hunch, she gave your exact name, Miles Beckett."

He swallowed the morsel in his mouth, taking a sip from the soda to help it down. "Ah yes, her. To be frank, I have no idea who she is or how she knows me."

Whatever entity had brought his mother to this dimension would better hope there wasn't a way to kill.

"She claims to be your mother." Claire and Baraka were already watching him when he said Karen's name. Now, they pulled the chairs forward, almost getting into his personal space.

"Considering my mother did not have auburn hair, and she has not dyed hers, then she is not my mother." The woman was her mother, exactly as he remembered her. Yet, he would never admit it or talk to her.

Ever.

"She seems very convinced you are her son."

"Perhaps in another dimension? Whatever is happening across the multiverse, there seems to be too many transdimensional travelers these days." Lies blended with the truth were the most difficult ones to see through.

"That could be. Differences in appearances certainly exist. Though, how did she recognize you so quickly?"

"My sense of fashion is rather sophisticated."

There was silence on the other end for a second.

She sighed. "Listen, if she is your mother, go talk to her. She does not seem in good condition."

He wouldn't believe any of this either, yet there was no way for her to prove otherwise.

"I have nothing to say to her or her lover," he said. His words knocked the breath out of Claire, who sucked in a piece of the food to her trachea. Her coughs broke Baraka out of stillness. He gently hit her on the back, and she managed to cough the chicken out onto a napkin.

"Her lover?" Karen exhaled sharply. "You mean that young man next to her? Oh boy."

"Yes. I would recognize that gold digger everywhere," he said. Had it been a less conspicuous setting than the broad daylight in an elite neighborhood, there might have been exchanges.

Whether of words or bullets, he could not say.

"That's tough," she replied, pausing mid-sentence.

"Since you helped them, are you looking to return to the field?" he asked, changing the subject. Even the mere mention of that woman set his chest ablaze.

"With my job as a waitress?"

"You are from a technologically superior planet. I am sure you can put that to use." He did remember bits regarding Karen owning a company. She obviously had not gone down that path yet, but there was no reason she could not.

"Maybe."


"So," Claire began, dragging the word out, "she is your mother."

"She is not my anything. I do not care what happens to her or the boytoy," he said, words final and flat.

She raised her hands to the sides. "Whatever you say. I just did not think I would see you in the same boat as me, that's all."

"Where to now?" Baraka asked.

"Just drive until I figure it out."

He leaned back on his seat, looking out of the window. Options to discover the entity responsible for this mess were wide and far. Each offered more risks than the other.

The safest option was Constantine. He had dealings with higher cosmic entities, and the risk of drawing in further divine punishment was negligible. Unless they made a mess of things.

He found Madame Xanadu's contact on his phone and pressed the button.

"Mr. Beckett, how may I be of service?"

"I need Constantine's latest number if you have it. Your assistance will be appreciated."

"No doubt. I will message you now."

"Thank you."

He ended the call, waiting for the message. Constantine constantly changed numbers to avoid being traced. Tracking burner phones would be an exercise in futility.

The cheery ringtone snapped him out of his thoughts. He quickly called the number, waiting once more.

"If this is about a curse, I'm busy. If it is about anything else, I'm very busy," Constantine's gruff voice answered.

"Not the time for games, Constantine. This is urgent."

A tongue clicked. "Then speak urgently."

"A higher entity has laid a punishment on me. I need to learn which one." Though, whether he could reverse this punishment or not was another matter.

Constantine hacked, and he had to wait for it to subside. "Bloody hell, you don't do small, do you?"

"Come find me in London. I trust a well-informed bloke like you can find the location."

"Just stay where you are for a moment," he said. Baraka took the clue, quickly finding a parking spot.


London

"Constantine," he greeted the sorcerer, who was leaning on a streetlight.

"That was fast."

"No time for chatter, I'm afraid." Constantine's curiosity would have to go unanswered in this instance.

Constantine nodded, waving them inside the safehouse. Once out of the bustling street, he closed the door after checking the area.

"What exactly is the nature of this punishment, and what makes you think it was the upstairs screwing you over?"

He explained, from hearing an infernal voice in his dream to seeing his mother, who should have been dead.

"Give me a second," John said. He held his hand out, summoning a circle that washed over Miles.

He stood still, the circle still glowing. He snapped out of it, waving his hand as if burned. "Bollocks. It is divine interference. No idea who you pissed off?"

"Potentially more than one." The Spectre, the Endless, or any other entity that might take an issue with the changes to the timeline could be coming after him.

"If I try to find the one responsible, I guarantee it will only make things worse. But," he added before Miles could speak, "I can summon the person who could give you the answer."

"Who?"

"The Phantom Stranger."

"Judas Iscariot," he said after a beat, remembering the true identity of the Eternal Wanderer.

"The very same."

"How do we do this?"

John grinned. "How is your history with church service?"


"Is he really going to summon one of the apostles that betrayed Jesus?" Claire asked, having looked up the name on the way to the church.

The sun had already set, and Constantine knew an abandoned church, the perfect place to summon the Phantom Stranger, according to him.

"Yes." Constantin said. His reasoning made sense to Miles. The Phantom Stranger was a servant of God. They could not find him, much less make enough noise in the correct direction for him to appear.

Calling him directly inside a church was one way to go at it.

"Hey Phantom, the bloke here got screwed over by the higher-ups. Think you can lend a hand?" he called out, laying a hand on the cross depicting Jesus.

Baraka's mouth opened, then closed. "Really? You just call him like that? No magic show?"

"It is unnecessary."

All four shivered collectively. The owner of the voice walked out of the shadows, appearing without any sound. He looked relatively ordinary in his suit over a white turtleneck sweater and fedora, much like the one Miles wore. Only the oversized medallion and the cape were out of place.

And the white, pupilless eyes.

"You have spoken, John Constantine, and I have heard." Each word from the Phantom Stranger sent more shivers down their spines. Miles could not mask what he felt at the moment, and even a long-term occultist like Constantine was affected.

"I'm not the issue this time, mate. It's him."

"I can see that." Judas merely turned his head to Miles, yet he felt as if the weight of it would spin the room.

Claire and Baraka were alerted, taking a more rigid stance.

"Who decided that I have meddled too much?" he asked.

"Judgment has seen your actions and acted."

Miles bit his tongue. The most likely entity who judged and punished was…

"The…"

"Do not utter the name." Judas' voice shook the room, silencing him, "lest you draw more attention."

He took a long, slow breath to still his heart. "What I did should not constitute anything to be punished by him." He was not a wicked individual, unless throwing Vandal Savage to the sun counted as wicked.

"Not him directly. The fate you consigned the immortal to have changed too many events in the future. You have presumed to override fate. This was a mere warning for your hubris," the Phantom Stranger warned.

Miles wanted to swear, to let his frustration out. He never considered that killing Vandal Savage would lead to divine punishment. He was an immortal and a being who had many appearances in the future. Imposing so many changes to the timeline might be the reason behind the Spectre's action.

"Do I get a list of what I am not permitted to do?" he asked, his tone cold at the memories of his mother.

The Phantom Stranger blinked at him but did not answer.

"I guess not," he thought.

"How do I free myself from this punishment?" The issue of his mother mattered more now.

"Either return what you have cast into the sun back or suffer the consequences." With those words, he disappeared.

The only sound inside the church was the steady breathing.

"Mate," Constantine laid a hand on his shoulder, breaking the silence. "I don't know what that was about with the immortal, and I don't want to. If you think what happened to you is bad, you won't like what happens when they actually decide to punish you."

"Thank you, John. I will send the money to your account."

"Much appreciated. It's always nice to have a well-paying customer like you."


Metropolis

He would rather suffer the existence of his mother in this reality than allow Savage to interfere in Earth any longer. As far as punishments went, this was manageable. Worst comes to worst, he would simply pay her off to leave to the other side of the world.

Or something more permanent.

The return home was silent. Claire and Baraka saw the conflicted state Miles was in and gave him time to think.

When he left the car, the men waiting inside the vehicle parked outside the porch tipped their caps. He returned the gesture, checking the area for any sight of his mother.

She was nowhere to be seen.

Raven and Zalika were watching TV inside. Even though the sun had yet to set in Metropolis, he felt tired.

"Hey, welcome back."

"Zalika, Raven. Did anyone come by today?"

Raven glanced at him with half-lidded eyes. "If you mean a woman who claimed to be your mother, yes. The guards outside sent her away, though.

"Good."

He took a quick shower and left to sleep. Tomorrow, he would explain everything to them.




In the next chapter:

"I thought your mother was dead," Claire stated. Her inquisitive gaze was only tempered by her respect for privacy.

"This one is from an alternate reality. Her looks don't exactly match my mother's, but the little rat by her side does," he said. It was a poor excuse, and he had to work overtime to modify all the images he had put into circulation.

"I don't know about you two," Raven said, turning to the siblings, "but the rest of us do have family issues. I can't bring myself to meddle."




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