With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
10:44 GMT -7

"I… See it in your mind."

I don't really like other people rifling through my mind, but I trust Mr. J'onzz's professionalism. And he does have more formal training than M'gann.

**[Father Bruno is a.. big bloke-.]**

Mr. J'onzz winces. "I…" **See…**

**[Father Bruno is a.. big-.]**

**[Father Bruno is a-.]**

**[Father Bruno-.]**

"**Agh.**" Mr. J'onzz's breaks contact, wincing, his flesh shifting shape as he switches back to his default form. M'gann's eyes widen in surprise.

"Uncle J'onn? Are you okay?"

"Yes. I…" He changes back to his human-seeming form, shaking his head. "I have not encountered anything quite like that before. No memory of his precise appearance exists in your mind, but there is no sign that it was removed after you saw him."

M'gann considers that for a moment. "Was he disrupting Paul's short term memory while they were talking so the memory couldn't form?"

Mr. J'onzz thinks for a moment.

"It may be possible, but I could feel nothing to indicate that anyone had touched Paul's mind at all."

"Should.. I have a go?"

"Be my guest."

Mr. J'onzz steps aside to allow M'gann physical access. She flashes me a small and reassuring smile before raising her hands to her temples. Her eyes glow, and-

**[I'd make a rude comment about them being far better adjusted-.]**

M'gann's eyes stop glowing for a moment, and she raises her eyebrows at me.

"I didn't make the comment."

"Hm." Her eyes glow once more. **It still wasn't nice.**

**But it was accurate.**

She ignores that, prodding the memory.

**[Father Bruno-.]**

She breathes in sharply, but soldiers on.

**[Father…]**

I twitch. Rather than try playing through the memory, M'gann is focusing on it, and it's… Obvious like this that the memory is incomplete. The human brain normally smoothes over irregularities, and that's a facility that telepaths take ruthless advantage of. Virtually no one walks around with a missing spot in their visual field that should be there. But right now, she's… She's making me stare at something that isn't there.

**[Father…]**

Eh. Not like I can't just get a new brain if something goes wrong with this one.

**[Father…]** **[Father…]**

M'gann's eyes dim as she shakes her head. "I can't feel anything either. What could it be?"

"My guess would be some sort of mind-effect magic. My rune stone didn't heat up, but…" I smile. "Maybe it did and I just don't remember it."

"Or they prevented you from noticing. Uncle J'onn?"

"You are sure that there is nothing wrong with their teleportation system?"

I nod. "Yes, the machinery itself is fine, and its performance is within the bounds I'd expect based on other examples of similar technology. I…" I shrug. "The place is warded so I couldn't check everything as easily as normal, but that's not a cause for concern in itself. That just shows that they're taking their security seriously."

"Then there should not be an immediate threat. I will speak with Doctor Mist, and we will seek out 'Father Bruno' to discover what he truly is. Have you noticed any lingering ill-effects?"

"No. Should I transfer my consciousness to a new body just in case?"

M'gann frowns. "Doesn't that mean that you have to die?"

"Only for a few seconds. I've got a ritual space set up to ensure that I get my full memories back almost immediately."

Mr. J'onzz shakes his head. "No. Doctor Mist may want to examine you as you are."

I nod. Dying would probably distort most of the magic traces on my body-.

"I have no idea where 'Father Bruno' is now, but I've got the exact location where this happened." Hm. "Everyone on the Justice League got an invitation, didn't they?"

"Yes, but it was decided that sending Blue Lantern as a representative would be sufficient. Several League members -including myself- have given lectures at their training seminars. None have reported meeting this 'Father Bruno', or reporting any sensations similar to what you experienced."

"Hmm. I assume you-. You'd both recognise it if you saw that sort of memory editing again?" They both nod. I take three eye drives out of subspace, putting one on myself and offering the other two to M'gann and Mr. J'onzz. "These are memory backup devices. I realise that it might offend your sense of professionalism as telepaths, but I designed them to bypass certain types of memory alteration."

Mr. J'onzz takes one in his hands and contemplates it.

"Were you wearing one during your encounter with Father Bruno?"

"Not that I remember. I've integrated the technology into my combat armour, but I… I haven't made a habit of wearing one when I'm just walking around in normal clothes."

Feels weird to be wearing glasses again, but rather that than a malfunctioning brain.

M'gann puts hers on her face. "They can't shapeshift, can they?"

"Sorry. It should be perfectly possible to create a martian version, but I never spent the time on it."

Mr. J'onzz nods. "It will suffice. I will ask Vincent Edge for a tour of the Washington facility myself and examine his mind for any irregularities. You should speak with Doctor Mist as soon as possible."

"And what about me?"

"You planned to meet your school friends this afternoon. This is not yet an emergency, merely cause for concern."

"You can come with me if you really want, but it'll probably just involve you sitting there while Doctor Balewa stares at me, then coming home again."

"Okay, but let me know if anything goes wrong. It's been a while since I felt a mental ability I couldn't understand."

"I'll write up a full report when I know what happened. Thank you both for your help."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st Sigmarzeit 2512
Late Morning

There's a.. slightly strange-sounding knock on my study door. Honestly, getting any sort of knock on my door is a oddity. I try to keep regular office hours but I've got a lot of balls in the air at the moment, and a Bretonnian peasant's natural reaction to their lord is avoid them as much as possible. The only reason they've taken advantage of the option so far is for me to judge people found to have committed criminal offences; so far a few instances of common assault and one of petty theft.

"Come!"

There's a thud, and Vanda shoves the door open, one hand occupied by a more faunishly proportioned beastwoman and the other by…

"Guarin." A seventeen year old local youth who spends most of his time working the family farm. Thanks to the improvements I've made in the diet of the locals he's already taller than his father, and in as much as I was aware of him it was as a dutiful labourer. "And I don't know your name, miss."

The beastwoman shrinks back, turning her head aside to bear her neck. Vanda looks down, sees her doing in and then makes a sort of frustrated growl-grunt noise. Then she roughly shakes her charge.

"Speak!"

"Aud, Manlord."

"They don't appear to have been fighting." Scan. "Ah." I roll up the report on the progress of the road building program I was reading and set it aside. Really, it was only a matter of time until something like this happened. "Vanda, is Aud a new addition to your herd?"

"Newer than a season."

"And this will be her first?"

Vanda gives Aud a small shake, and Aud nods.

"Why don't you take her to the library, and go through one of the simple books with her, while I have a word with Guarin?"

Guarin gets shoved towards my desk, while the slightly-panicked Aud gets half-dragged back through the door. It's not really… Okay, it is as violent as it looks, but by beastman standards Vanda is a complete soft touch and Aud's not scared so much as unsettled.

Guarin on the other hand is scared, because I made a very clear pronouncement when the beastwomen started living here and he knows full well that he ignored it. Probably on several occasions.

"Guarin, I have good news. You won the coin-toss."

"Lord?"

"When thrown in the air and allowed to fall, a coin will show either one side or the other. In your case, you won, because the child you sired on Aud is a girl. When she grows, she will be just as good-natured and humble as her mother. The other side of the coin would be you siring a beastman. Do you remember what I said I would make anyone who sired a beastman do?"

"Yes, Lord. We'd-. You'd make us kill them."

"And do you remember why?"

"Because they're monsters."

I can heard the unspoken question. "Do you want to know how I know?"

"Lord, it-. You said you were stealing them, Lord."

"From the Gods of Chaos, yes."

"So… I mean… The boys…"

"Guarin, I am trying to learn how to do a great many things. The reason why I have not already taken the beastman species from the Gods of Chaos is that I don't know how to. The beastwomen who live here are still their creatures, they're just not particularly physically dangerous. I am learning to remove the taint of Chaos from them but at the moment any beastman they bear will be just as murderous as its kin elsewhere."

"Yes, Lord. But-but my daughter? She-? She will be well?"

"She'll be a beastwoman. At the moment Aud isn't far enough into her pregnancy for me to say for certain what she'll look like. She had horn stubs, but I can't tell how long they'll be. Aud's far enough along that the chance of miscarriage is relatively low."

He nods.

I take a chair out of subspace and deposit it next to him, then move my own closer to it before sitting down.

He doesn't move.

"Sit down."

He hesitates for a moment, then cautiously navigates to the chair and gingerly sits down.

I take two goblets out of subspace along with a wine bottle, pouring a small amount into each before returning the wine into storage. Taking a goblet in each hand, I offer him the one in my left.

"L-lord?"

"Take it. You're going to be a father."

"Thank you, Lord."

He takes the goblet as I reach out for the folder containing his educational records. He takes a cautious sip as I look through it. It isn't really practical to put everyone through what I consider to be 'normal' schooling, but no one objects to spending a winter's day in a room heated at someone else's expense. According to this, he can read passably well and do basic maths, though apparently he doesn't have the hunger for learning that some of the younger children have acquired.

I take a sip.

"How did you meet?"

"Ah, Lord?"

"You and Aud. Since we have no idea who her parents are, Vanda and I will have to stand in for them at the wedding, and I think I should know-" His eyes widen a little. "-a little more about things."

He nods slowly. "We… We met in the woods, Lord. I was cutting wood for fencing, and she was…" He blushes. "Getting firewood."

"'Getting firewood'. Is that what young people call it?"

"W-? No, Lord, no. It… She said she has… Most of the year, a ewe won't look twice at a ram, and then spring comes around and they find one and brace themselves. She was… Bracing… Herself."

Ah. That's going to be a problem. Beastwomen can reproduce with both humans and any suitable-sized mammal. I'll need to have people keep an eye on the farm pens so that they don't get any ideas.

"And… I…"

"Showed a remarkable lapse in judgement, which is going to be its own punishment."

"She was begging, Lord!" He cringes at his own outburst. "Ah, sorry Lord."

"And later?"

"Lord?"

"Beastwomen are fairly fertile, but I'm well aware that once a person's done something once then they're a lot more inclined to do it again. Did you do her again, Guarin?"

"… Yes… Lord. She's… So.. nice. Gentle-."

I raise my right hand to stop him.

"Guarin, let me be clear. Beastwomen are designed by the Gods of Chaos to be the broodmares for their foot soldiers. Aud knew perfectly well that she wasn't supposed to have sex with anyone who could get her pregnant. And you knew that you weren't supposed to have sex with the beastwomen."

He nods. "I did, Lord. It-. She was just-. Overwhelming. Ah. Is there some-? I don't mind just having daughters, but-. But I don't…"

"Don't want to have to kill your sons?" I nod. "Yes, that's the whole reason I banned it in the first place. But since I have a pair of volunteers, I'll try talking to the Amber College again and see if we can't work out a way to avoid that problem."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
18:03 GMT

This is the most 'on display' I've felt since Lanterns Natu and Nax physically took me apart. Since there wasn't any particular spell residue on me -and between my spell eater and tattoos that was about what I expected- he's having to go deep. As in, lift the maintenance hatch off my soul and manually test the components.

Not the most fun experience I've ever had.

On the other hand, it is interesting to get a similar view of Dr. Balewa. I'm not getting any real detail of course: he's a god tier wizard and I'm a giant snake's parasite. But I can see the general flow of the energies he's-.

"Thet is a little distracting."

"Sorry."

Like this, I can see the sort of merge point where I shade into the Ophidian. Larger than a normal patron connection, but nothing like as large as I was worried it might be. Dr. Balewa has a similar one to the Life Entity, though in his case it's… Like a placenta: two separate systems exchanging vitality, rather than two brains smushed together haphazardly.

"Ah."

"Ah?"

"I hef found an abnormality, but it is very slight. I do not know if it is what has caused your memory difficulty, but..."

A pearl of white light appears in front of him, some sort of faint… Smoke? Contained within.

"What is it?"

"I do not know. It is a strange thing. It is like… Not a thing in itself, but the shadow of a thing. Perhaps even less than that. If I had to guess, I would say that it is simply marking a place, perhaps to guide an external force later."

"Mister Edge made it clear that they were using magic as part of their tracking and communications system. Is it part of that?"

"I would guess thet it is not. I am familiar with the simple geomantic systems they are using, and this is quite different. It is not a residue left by exposure to a distortion in the world's magics. It is something… External. It is not something that the practitioners which the Alliance of the Just can call upon would use."

"Are you sure? There are some very incautious magicians around the place."

"Incautious in their communications and treaties with demons. This is not demon magic. I do not know-."

The smoke wafts, as if blown from the centre of the spell bubble and pushed against the side. There's a slight shimmer, and when it calms the smoke is gone.

"Odd."

"Did you mean to do that?"

"I did not do thet. The energy received no external instruction. It appeared to be a natural reaction to the power of life."

"Do I have any more in me?"

"Not thet I could find, but it did not respond in a normal way to my efforts to detect it. I had to manually examine everything about you in order to see even thet much."

"Doesn't respond..? So I can't just go FEED ME and get rid of it?"

"I do not know for certain, but I would guess that any such energy that could survive connected to your conjoined soul would not be affected by your efforts to speed up the process."

"But would it be dangerous?"

"I cannot say for certain, but if you take into your gut something that you cannot digest…"

"Right. Great. Think I should get Hinon to take a look as well?"

"If the sample had survived and we had something to show her, then I would say 'yes'. As it is, what would you say?"

"Not sure. Have you finished poking me?"

"I have."

And… Re… Com…

Pile.

Ugh.

I let the orange light flow through my body, not really 'fixing' anything per se, but definitely making me feel better. That's my sort of glowing light, not whatever that weird shadow stuff was.

And 'weird shadow stuff that doesn't interact with other energy' doesn't ring any bells. Stuff has to interact with other stuff. That's how magic and conventional matter work. Even kaahuite interacts with other forms of matter and energy, and that's literally outside of Creation. So the idea that it doesn't, particularly after it was unmade by Dr. Balewa's magic, sounds like nonsense.

Dr. Balewa's magic.

"Doctor?"

Dr. Balewa opens his still glowing eyes on the other side of the ritual space.

"Yes?"

"I know it looked like the shadow destroyed itself, but if whatever it was is as good at parasitism as you're saying, are we sure that it's not just in you now?"

His eyes return to normal.

"Thet is disturbingly possible. But if it is attracted to my magic, then I should be able to draw it out of myself by deliberately weakening myself in the presence of a stronger source of power."

"I don't think we're working to a deadline, here. It's best that we learn everything we can before trying to confront whoever Father Bruno really is."

"What makes you certain?"

"People who sign up with the Alliance of the Just are generally well intentioned, but most of them are part timers. The teleporters aren't going to see major usage until the end of the New Year holidays. Probably the weekend after. If they're important in some way, that's when whatever's happening will happen. And if they're not, and Father Bruno's just… I don't know, manoeuvring for position, then we don't even have to worry about that deadline. He'll just be gradually moving towards whatever his victory condition is."

"Thet makes logical sense, but why would he speak with you at all?"

"Two possible places I came into contact with whatever that was: the teleporter and Bruno himself. Alan came into contact with both as well. But a lot of other people in the Alliance would have used the teleport… Er. Um."

"Yes?"

"Did..? You check those… Alliance members who died for whatever that was?"

"I did not."

"It just.. occurred to me that.. if they were exposed in some way…"

"I do not know if anything would remain after all this time, but you are right. It would be wise to check."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
13:34 GMT -5

"…for New Year."

Mazikeen schools the visible half of her expression as she studies me in a way that I've long become accustomed to. I call it the 'is this fool actually serious' glare, and it never works on me because I always am.

"You're going to keep doing this until I say 'yes', aren't you?"

"I assume that you'll die eventually, and at that point I'll stop. The universe does have a finite lifespan."

"Of all the.. pacts-. This is the deal you wish to make. I appear in New York, partake in a meal with you, remain as the year changes and then I am free to depart."

"There will be other people there. And you don't need to treat it like some great task you're being bound to perform. I want to get to know you."

"And you want nothing else."

"Ah…"

She actually smiles.

"It's not conditional. I do genuinely want to get to know you as my larger half's daughter. However, I recently encountered a strange magical influence that… You know I've got a pretty good set of contacts, yes?"

"Do you want me to unpick a curse for you, 'father'?"

"No, I could handle a curse myself. Even the clever ones. I was just wondering if, given your long and varied experience, you might recognise whatever this is. I don't even need you to do anything about it, just tell us if you recognise it and give us a hint if you do."

"And what do you offer in exchange?"

"I'll take you to Maltus and introduce you to my better half. And explain to her what you are and how that relationship usually works. I don't know how she'll react to that, but it occurred to me that you might be interested."

"No power ring?"

"I realise that as a Lilim you're more anchored in the physical than a lot of Heaven South's residents, but would you..? Really want one? I mean, heck, I don't mind. Dox always wants more magicians for the Corps. I just assumed that ruling a circle of Hell was something you'd.. want to keep doing. I mean, with… Xalitan back in the Reach Periphery I do have an opening for a partner. It could be a good way for us to get to know each-."

"Never mind. Yes, I will attend your festivity and yes, I will examine this new magic for you. Lucifer showed me many things that never made it into Creation and I wouldn't be surprised if one of them escaped their prison."

I smile. "Great!"

I reach forward with my right foot and use the sole of my boot to erase a segment of the magic circle.

"Come on through."

She looks down at the scuffed chalk mark, which completely breaks the confinement spell.

"How are you still alive?"

"I've died twice!"

"Do you understand how insulting it is to imply that I am so weak that you don't need any sort of binding spell to restrict my actions on Earth?"

For a moment I consider making it a joke. 'Is it more or less than walking into the circle and sticking a dummy in your mouth' or something similar. But that would only serve to alienate her further.

"I don't think that you're weak. But I'm not some random magician. I have a reasonable track record against high end arcane life forms, and we're on good terms anyway."

She makes a quiet growling noise and then stalks out of the chalk diagram. "If anyone asks, you offered me a dozen virgins."

I raise my eyebrows as I see her relatively simple dress shift shape into something artful in gold and black, her small half-mask growing into something fit for a masquerade.

"What species?"

She ignores me.

"Because depending on what counts, all fish-."

"Where are we?"

"You remember that business with the demon-possessed handguns?" She nods. "The human who was carrying them, Ms. Jill Carlyle, had a provision in her will that she wanted to donate her body to science. And that ended up being thaumatic science, because we still don't really know what the heck was going on with her."

"After two months?"

"Sadly, frustrating as it is for everyone involved, sometimes there just isn't any evidence. We can legally request access for any sort of arcane study-"

She half-turns her head to look at me-.

"-and when I say 'we', I mean Justice League members and allies, not the Noble Emissaries of the Loyal Opposition."

I erase the chalk diagram behind us as we walk into the examination room where Dr. Balewa is getting ready. Ms. Carlyle's body is as… Intact as the bullets left it. The morticians tidied it up as much as they could, but when someone shoots themselves in the head from point blank range, there's… Only so much you can do. Jars containing other biological materials -blood, brain and bone fragments- are also stored here, but we're going to be trying this with the main body first. The rest of the brain was also removed, because with the giant hole in the skull it would just have… Plopped out, otherwise.

Dr. Balewa looks at her. "Thank you for coming, Mazikeen."

"I think that ignoring my father's request would be more trouble than going along with it."

I nod. "Probably. Um. Do you want me to stick her skull back together? It's not that hard to work out what it should look like, based on the recovered fragments and her DNA."

"No. Not for now."

He extends his hands towards her corpse, faint white mist drifting from them to her chest.

"I doubt that you'll feel anything but the most powerful influences after two months."

"I used spells to isolate her from external influences. She is much as she was. Please, examine her yourself."

Mazikeen walks closer, placing the long nails of her right hand in the middle of Ms. Carlyle's forehead. Then she curls her fingers, nails cutting a shallow furrow in the skin. Magically preserved blood oozes slowly from the wound, and Mazikeen scoops a small amount up and then brings her fingers up to her eyes for a closer examination.

"'The darkness came'. I see what the demons in her guns meant."

Dr. Balewa nods. "A grievous spiritual injury. But it is hardly unique."

I reknit the corpse's skin and return the residual blood to the body.

"Okay, but-."

BOOM!

A boom tube opens in the far corner of the room, and my armour appears around me!

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
13:38 GMT -5

Armourconstructarmourrailgun-.

Scott Free stumbles through, clutching his head!
Freedom is a Hamster Wheel.
"Mister Free?"
Round and Round with No Escape.
His costume is slightly battered, though he doesn't appear to be seriously injured. His Mother Box is on his utility belt, and.. looks fine? Reaching out with-
You Don't Look and You Don't See.
Oh. Yeah, he's clearly not human.

-my eldritch senses, I see… Something, trying to attach itself to his metaphysique? It doesn't look like the mist that Dr. Balewa found in me, but there's clearly… Something wrong with him.

Dr. Balewa gestures, and white mist rises from Mr. Free's skin. He collapses to the floor, curling into a foetal position and wrapping his arms around his chest like he's trying to clasp his hands behind his back.

The stuff attacking him is flowing with the strands that make up his metaphysique, aping them, acting like it's a part of the structure. More than that, it looks like the energy that Dr. Balewa just tried to use to cleanse him is… Trying to more fully merge it-.

"Stopdoingthatstopdoingthat!"

He clenches his hands into fists, ending his spell. "I do not-. Mazikeen, do you know this?"

"Which part?"

Okay, okay, the engraftment points. It fits naturally, but I should be able to… Introduce something unnatural.

Given that he grew up on Apokolips, I shouldn't be surprised that he doesn't really want to be a god. But what if he did?

What if I just… Add a little…
One Foot in Front of Anoth-.
Desire.

Orange light sparks across his metaphysique, drawing on what's already there and shifting it. I mean, if I was picked by the Source to be the New God of Freedom, I like to think that I'd have done a little more with the office than he has. And… Yes, as I change things the whatever-it-is starts losing its grip, floating free and being drawn to the white orb that Dr. Balewa has set up.

"And now? Do you recognise it now?"

Okay, but what happens if I turn the areas I've changed back into what they were before-. The mist just… Reappears, already connecting to the parts I just cleared.

"Where did that come from?"

"From heem."

Oh. Oh dear.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Okay, so the New God of Freedom is apparently spontaneously creating something fundamentally contrary to the concept to freedom. I alter him once more, mist flowing off and into Dr. Balewa's orb.

"Mazikeen, you don't have to-"

And this time I don't hesitate or undo my own work. No, I twist and warp, reconnecting certain impulses so that he'll think of his aggressive and godly actions in more positive terms. I tie in a desire to be a god and rebuild his desire to be a normal man into a desire to be able to be a normal man. Nothing contrary to his nature, but it's all helping get rid of the miasma.

"-contribute, but you'll be getting coal for all the Christmases we missed if you don't."

Okay, that's… Most of it. He no longer has any desire to not be the freest god that he can be, pushing barriers and helping others do the same. I've radically altered his character, and he's… He's looking a little better. He's awkwardly rising to all fours, and-
Freedom Is Absolute
-my changes are gone and he's glaring at me from the floor.

"What did you just do?"

"Got rid of whatever the heck that was."

I glance at Dr. Balewa's binding spell.

"You were producing that. And a little while ago I had that inside me too. What is it?"

"It's Anti-Life."

"Oh. Shit." I frown. "But I'm… I've encountered the Anti-Life before. It's never done anything to me. I just.. hear it talking nonsense, and that's it."

Mr. Free pulls himself upright, clearly wrung out.

"And you thought that was it?"

"Yeah? I've put a lot of effort into fortifying myself against that sort of thing, and it looks like it was paying off."

"That's not it. That's-. That's not it at all." He reaches up, pulling his mask off his face. "That's just a simplest way of using it. With someone who understands it properly, they can reach into you and they… They don't need to overpower you. They can work off what's already there, the weaknesses that already exist in your… Soul."

He stares me in the eyes.

"What did you see?"

"Something about… Freedom not really being a thing if you just kept doing the same thing and ignored everything else?"

"There's more to it than that. It's the idea that… Freedom doesn't matter if you don't use it. You can be free and still… Plodding along in the way you would be if you were a prisoner. Because the prison isn't just in the material world, it's in your mind and soul. Because the prison… Someone imposes on you is much weaker than the one you make for yourself."

"I didn't feel anything."

"Where did you get exposed?"

"Probably the Alliance's teleportation system. But I checked it thoroughly-."

"Did you check for New God technology?"

"No, I… Can't actually do that."

"I did. I don't know where they got it from-. Barda didn't get away."

"Where?"

"Some place in Hub City. I thought I felt another New God around the place. They… I guess they got the drop on us."

"Do you know anyone who could do this? Other than-."

"Darkseid."

"He's on Earth?"

"I doubt it, but maybe? I can't think of anyone else. I need to get back-."

"We need to muster the League. If Darkseid is here, or if someone has corrupted the Alliance, it will take our full strength. I will speak to Betman now."

"And I need to talk to Alan."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
13:55 GMT -5

"You're saying that I've got something like that inside me?"

Alan looks concerned, though not actually worried, as he watches the glowing ball of magic surrounding the mist taken from Mr. Free.

"Not as much as that, but probably."

"And that'll do… What?"

Mr. Free looks up from where he's been using his multi-cube to repair his costume. This room wasn't really intended for the number of specialists we've brought into it, but we need to go somewhere and if those of us who've touched the stuff can be tracked in some way… It's best that we not look like we've moved.

"It connects you to the Anti-Life. People who've been using the Anti-Life on Earth have been using single concepts. It twists the minds of anyone near it to agree with it, but it can be resisted." Alan nods. "That's not what this does. This is-. It's more like the broadcasters on Apokolips. You hear every part, and if there's something that chimes for you, that's what you get. Orange Lantern, Blue Lantern, Doctor Mist, you're all vulnerable. I…"

He looks at Zauriel.

"I don't know about you."

Zauriel smiles. "My mind is not so small that I cannot doubt. There are avenues of attack which the Anti-Life could use."

"If they exist, it'll use them."

Batman nods. "How do we block it?"

"The Alliance of the Just have it tied to their teleportation system. Stepping foot inside their new buildings will result in it being inflicted upon you. And you will also be teleported ehway. I had thought that blocking the teleportation acquisition system would be simple, but if what Scott Free says is true, they may have access to New God technology. Thet…" He shakes his head. "I cannot be certain."

"Is the Anti-Life effect immediate?"

Mr. Free shrugs. "I don't know. It was for me, but I got a dose right from the source. Orange Lantern had it for hours and didn't realise anything was wrong."

Batman's eyes move in my direction.

"I compared my behavioural baselines before and after. No change."

A small nod, and his eyes move back to Mr. Free.

"Can everyone affected be exposed to the Anti-Life at once?"

"I don't know. On Apokolips, yes, but they've got a whole lot more equipment. And the Alliance's teleportation centers aren't broadcasters; those are very recognizable."

"Are you certain that Darkseid is on Earth?"

"No. I just-. That's what he can do. And I can't imagine him sharing that ability with someone else. They'd be a threat to him, his control. On the other hand… Yeah, there isn't much that's stopping him just turning up on Earth one day. He doesn't usually do things like that because it's not a good use of his time, and… We should be seeing a whole lot more than we're seeing now if he was actually here."

"And Canis wouldn't be able to shut up about it."

Batman nods again.

"Whether it's Darkseid or not, we still have to prevent the spread of the Anti-Life. Zauriel, can you destroy the mist?"

Zauriel opens his mouth and the background sounds of the room vanish for a moment. Then both Dr. Balewa's spell and the mist are both gone.

Zauriel nods. "As I thought."

"How did you manage thet?"

"I reset that portion of reality to the 'default'. Since the mist-like substance had no soul of its own it could not resist. It is… Not something which I can teach you. And I do not think that my song would work as a defence in any other circumstance."

Batman looks at Dr. Balewa. "It's gone completely?"

"So far as I can determine, thet is so. But since I do not know the mechanism by which it spreads, I cannot say thet it was not recalled by its creator."

Mr. Zatara, who had been listening quietly next to Angelica, steps forward.

"I should check whether my particular abilities work against it."

Alan nods. "Apparently, I'm infected too. Take your best shot."

"Tsim fo eht Efil-Itna, traped!"

Alan frowns, then shudders as the mist rises through his skin for a moment before being sucked back inside him!

"Are you al-?"

"Traped! Traped dna od ton nruter!"

This time the mist only rises grudgingly, floating on the surface of his skin rather than leaving him. Mr. Zatara keeps up his effort for several seconds as the strain makes him grimace and sweat, before sagging and lowering his hands.

The mist immediately re-enters Alan's body.

"I am.. sorry, Alan. I cannot do it."

Alan nods, staring at his own body for a moment. Yeah, Giovanni Zatara's ability makes him a remarkably capable and flexible magician despite his minimal formal training, but his peak power output isn't all that great. Not compared to his colleagues Dr. Balewa and Angelica. He might be able to improve that, but when exactly is he likely to be able to find time to do that sort of self-study?

Dr. Balewa conjures a new white orb while Batman turns to me.

"Can you destroy the teleporters without collateral damage?"

"I don't want to say entirely without, but it should be simple enough. The sites have a standard design, and I don't need to physically enter the building to shoot at it." I shrug. "Just trigger the fire alarm first. Might be a problem with Alliance members afterward, particularly if they're Anti-Lifed. I could call Alpha Centurion first?"

He considers it. "Doctor Mist. Could you use their system to remove it from people more efficiently?"

"Perhaps? I…" He frowns. "No. I do not believe so. The magic aspect of the teleportation system is in the guidance rather than the transmission. It would be no easier for me to use it than it would be to use any other structure."

"In that case we can have Flash or one of the Lanterns bring the victims to you." He focuses on me. "Preventing Father Bruno infecting anyone else takes top priority. We can smooth things over with the Alliance afterwards."

"Understood. Just tell me when and where you want me."

"Mister Miracle, is the core of the system in Washington or in Hub City?"

"The teleportation network doesn't need a core. But New God technology needs a New God to be… 'Plugged into'.. it. And an Anti-Life control system wouldn't exactly be small. If Orange Lantern didn't see something he didn't recognize in Washington then it's probably not there."

"Doctor Mist, Zauriel, Orange Lantern. Go to Hub City with Mister Miracle and try to locate the control system. Orange Lantern, be prepared to need to attack other locations at any time. I'll brief the rest of the League."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:06 GMT -5

"This is the last place I remember seeing her."

Scott Free brings his aero-discs to a stop above a disused industrial site. A confluence of intent between the 'Burn Hub City' campaigners and the Sheeda resulted in what little life there was in the city being strangled during their occupation. Perhaps worse, the destruction of a harvest ship not too far from here has resulted in the region being partially Sheeda-formed. The closest example of Sheeda-life is a colony of maggots living in a storm drain about thirty metres from our position, but there are bigger and badder things around.

Which is why the region… Can't really call it a city. It doesn't offer enough high-order services anymore. It's having a small amount of revitalisation. Mostly because the larger criminal groups have moved away, and partially because both the government and private collectors will pay a lot for Sheeda technology, including biotechnology. And at the same time, the few people who still choose to live here need protection from the monsters squatting in the ruins.

"What exactly happened?"

"I wish I knew. Though it might be better that I don't."

Zauriel lands and crouches to lay his right palm on the ground.

"An… Absence."

"Is it an absence you can track?"

"I fear not, though I would recognise it if I came upon it again."

Mr. Scott waves around his multi-cube. "No boom tube. I'd have thought that I'd have heard it, but it shouldn't be that easy to creep up on either me or Barda."

"Is Darkseid slow on his feet?"

"I don't think so. He's monstrously strong. But I've never seen him run."

"You said that New God technology needs a New God running it. Do you think that's why he took Barda?"

"No. Darkseid has plenty of New Gods he could command to take control of it. I think he took her because she used to be his and he thinks it's wrong that things can ever stop being his."

"How much does he weigh?"

"I have no idea. Footprints." He nods. "He can't fly by himself, and though he's got a flight system built into his armour he usually walks."

"Slowly and purposefully." I nod. "He doesn't want to seem to be reacting to his opponents. He needs to be seen to be in complete command at all times."

"I can't think of a time when he wasn't. Sometimes I thought that he stayed on Apokolips because he couldn't be so in command anywhere else. And then I got hit by the Anti-Life and it was like I'd never left the X-Pit, so I guess that was nonsense."

Zauriel lays his right hand on Mr. Free's left shoulder.

"In God, whose word we praise, in God we trust; we will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to us?"

"Zauriel, I'm no more mortal than you are. And he's even less." Walk From Was.

"Zauriel, was the Sword of the Fallen actually destroyed, or did the Kings just say they destroyed it while they actually kept hold of it?"

"If they spoke an untruth, they would not have been so foolish as to inform me when I would be in proximity to you."

That's a fine point.

"Could you please notify them that if they made use of a 'social untruth', I'd really appreciate it if they could coincidentally find a sword just like it. The paint could be wet and I wouldn't complain."

"I will relay your message. Doctor Mist, have you been able to locate our target?"

"There are places where the world is… Tilted. They may be signs of the Sheeda, but it is also possible that they are locations where there is New God technology."

He raises his right hand, and an illusory map of the region appears with a handful of areas highlighted. Mr. Free looks it over, and then points.

"We already tried there and there. Maybe we set something off, but we didn't see anything."

"Zauriel?"

"The energies of this place are already so discordant that I can hear nothing more amiss."

We reach out, flicking our tongue to taste the air. Anti… Life. Yes, we taste it, the miserable negatory black that would snuff out our light. But where is it-.

"We're going about this wrong. Doctor Mist, could you enshroud this whole city?"

"A reasonable idea, were not the Sheeda creatures magic-eaters. Detecting a distortion would mean little."

Vexing. Then where are the cut threads? Where did people stop living for themselves and start living for another? When did they lose self-derived motivation and begin to just go through the motions out of habit?

Strangely, it's not… Obvious. There are disruptions that we can taste and they share enough of a flavour that we judge that they share a cause. But if they are Anti-Lifed… It is nothing like the people we have seen who have been Anti-Lifed before. Not yet active? Or perhaps it is because it is bound to their personality rather than overriding and crushing it. We open our mortal eyes and look at the map. And we point.

"We do not know if it is what we are looking for, but there is something that should not be here. This… Place… Tastes foul."

Mr. Free nods. "The Anti-Life will do that. Did you taste Barda at all?"

We… I shake my head.

"Sorry. Normally, I'd be able to tell, but with this… Novel Anti-Life use, I'm not sure about anything. Um." I look over his equipment harness. "Do you want a..? Gun or something? I've still got some New God equipment from Kahndaq?"

"No, I'm going to be trying to free people from the Anti-Life. Having to use a normal weapon would be a distraction."

"Alright."

Zauriel, Mr. Free and I take to the air, while Dr. Balewa just vanishes. It's a relatively short flight to the former apartment building he and I highlighted, though I take the time to bombard the maggot colony with white phosphorus along the way. Their agonised screeching is satisfying to hear, and hopefully will encourage other Sheeda-life to bury itself a little deeper.

"Mister Miracle." Zauriel sort of frowns with his eyes. "You are correct in your assertion that your divine empowerment will make freeing any of Darkseid's victims far easier. However, I have noticed that you appear reluctant to use your abilities."

"I wouldn't be much of a God of Freedom if I told people how to live."

"It is more than that. You are an aspect of the Source made manifest. You cannot be what you are afraid of becoming."

"Yeah, I'm with Zauriel. I could see how uncomfortable the idea makes you. Quite aside from anything else, it's an avenue of attack for the Anti-Life."

"Don't worry about that. The Anti-Life always finds a way. That's why it's so terrifying."

Zauriel shakes his head as we come into land.

"The only omnipotent power is the Most High. Everything else is merely deception, and you should reject it as you have rejected Darkseid."

"I'll take it under advisement. How are we getting in?"

I make a crumbler battering ram construct.

"Like this."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:11 GMT -5

The dully incurious front desk attendant blinks at us as we walk or fly through where the front wall used to be.

"Yeah?"

I look closer. Now that I know what I'm looking for, I can see where the Anti-Life has engrafted upon his soul. It's not a great deal: he's a Hub City native and at this point I'm mildly impressed that he's functioning at all. But it's there.

"Doctor, one for you."

"And… Someone's probably gunna yell at you about that door."

Mr. Free looks at him as Dr. Balewa marches closer. "He feels like a Lowly."

The man manages an awkward smile. "You work a reception desk too?"

Dr. Balewa raises his right hand, the man's eyes rolling back in his head as he goes limp in his chair. The familiar mist rises from his body for a few moments, then Dr. Balewa offers it to Zauriel who sings it into nothingness.

"I needed to strengthen his spirit so that the separation did not kill him. We should be aware of thet for all future victims."

Mr. Free nods as I study the ceiling above us. "Does that mean he's been like that for a long time?"

"Thet would be my guess."

"Look on the bright side."

Orange streamers shoot upwards, punching through plaster, wood and steel. Where they encounter flesh they wrap around and bind the owner. Can't scan a thing here but the upper part of the building at least doesn't have any actual construct disruptors.

"This means that when we finally kill Darkseid, we can fix the Lowlies."

"That-. Yeah, that is actually kind of uplifting. I can't see it happening-."

"Sure you can. New Gods live indefinitely, right?"

"Unless something kills us."

I tear a hole in the ceiling and begin conveying the people I've grabbed down. They're dressed as office workers, but I've only found eight, and that's far less than the number a building this size would normally house.

"In a circle, if you please."

I deposit them around him, mist already rising from them as he starts his spell. None of them are really resisting, only pulling back slightly when the tendrils first touched them.

"Then it's inevitable that you'll see it, because he's the next target after the Reach."

"You… Shouldn't say things like that out loud. And not because of any sort of narrative rules; I'm pretty sure Darkseid can actually hear it."

"I'm sure he's heard it before."

A quick anti-note from -heh- Zauriel, and I stack the newly liberated office peons behind the reception desk.

"That doesn't mean he won't send someone after you."

I send ribbons of orange light down, through concrete and-.

And they fizzle out.

"I don't wear glowing orange clothes because I'm hiding, Mister Miracle. There's a construct disrupting effect below us."

Dr. Balewa gestures upwards and a circle of floor crumbles into chunks which float upwards and form a ball in the air. Floor tiles, concrete, wires and ceiling tiles fly out of the hole until the spell ends with our path cleared.

"You should probably let me do that. You need to conserve power to purge people. I can keep going until we actually hit the construct disruptors."

"I am extending my power through the building. This does not drain me; it makes my power more readily available."

"Ah, alright then. Thank you."

I drift towards the hole, but Zauriel holds up his right hand to stop me.

"If your constructs are unreliable, then I am the most resilient among us. I should take the lead."

He draws his sword, which burns with golden fire.

"As you will. I'll go second."

He does a semi-flap, drifting over the floor and descending down through the hole.

"None are here."

I fly down after him. Emergency lights only, most of the illumination coming from Zauriel himself. Lockers line the walls, and ring scans show them as mostly empty. I open each of them just in case, but the scan was accurate.

Mr. Free comes down next, wincing slightly.

"New God technology. This whole area's connected up to something."

"Can you turn it off?"

"Ping."

"No. Not from here. We'll need to find the core, and whoever's controlling it now."

"Bottom level?"

"Or close by."

"Then allow me."

The flooring vomits itself up and we go down again. A relatively normal looking workshop, somewhat disused, a layer of dust covering the machine tools. And again, into a laundry, washing machines and dryers partially dismantled. The next level-.

My constructs shimmer and fail as I see a chirurgical suit. My armour registers the presence of cleaning chemicals in the air, and without a ring scan I can't easily identify biological residue. So at least they cleaned up after whatever horrifying experiments they performed were complete.

Zauriel bows his head for a moment.

"Mister Miracle?"

He closes his eyes for a moment. Where There Is Need.

"I think… This way."

He floats towards the door to the west, Mother Box pinging as it unlocks the security door. He pushes through, hands at the ready-.

Ah. This part of the building is very clearly New God technology. Strange colours, arcs and tron lines replace the more human textures of the rest of the building. Mr. Free flies faster, down a corridor and through another security door. All Are Free Or None Are.

And there's the central hub. Strange technology, at least two-. No, three, people visibly wired into it. That's Victor Sage, naked and with pieces of Apokoliptian technology piercing his flesh in a dozen places. A young woman I immediately recognise as Anita Fite. Her body appears to be intact, and is covered in a chirurgical gown. Her head has not been so fortunate, and several cables appear to be plugged directly into her skull. Her mouth is moving weakly and her eyes stare at nothing. The third 'person' appears to be the upper part of Black Orchid's body.

Mr. Free looks the horrifying assemblage over, then shakes his head.

"I'll get to work." Freedom Is The Right Of All Sentient Beings.

"No. You won't."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:15 GMT -5

Now that feeling I know; that's Anti-Life. I don't know what nonsense it's about to try to convince us of but I'm pretty sure that we're all immune. And my rings may not be able to generate constructs down here but their AI can still monitor my behavioural baselines and trigger my armour's computer to fly an emergency escape.

Objective check. I can destroy this machine by slapping it with crumbler gauntlets. That will probably kill Mr. Sage, Miss Fite and Orchid, and deny us information we could get by studying it. But it would slow down whoever-this-is's attempt to Anti-Life the planet. A couple of weeks ago I might well have just done it, but now I'm hesitating.

Getting them out in a rush is impractical. The plugs in Miss Fite's brain would probably kill her or at the very least cause hard-to-treat brain injuries if not removed with the utmost care. Mr. Sage and Orchid look like I could rip them out, keep them alive with a purple ray and go for distance and then repair them with my rings once we're clear. The problem is that if Mr. Sage isn't already free then there's probably something magical going on that I can't see and that could create problems that I can't fix.

So neither destroying or evacuating are appropriate. Let's hear the villain speech.

"You're not Darkseid." Mr. Free taps his Mother Box, which twinkles silently. Presumably trying to access whatever device whoever said that is using to communicate with us. "I'll never forget his voice. Is that a Metropolis accent?"

Metropolis, named Bruno, criminal, associates with Apokolips. One name, but… This doesn't match anything in his records. Letting a mortal near the Anti-Life suggests that they're actually backing him, rather than just using him as a patsy and stringing him along.

"Bruno Mannheim. I'd say 'delusions of grandeur' but if you've managed all this then you're clearly not deluded."

I think that Mr. Free is frowning under the mask. "Mannheim? A two-bit Intergang thug."

BOOM!

A boom tube opens just in front of the core of the machine, and a-. Agh, ghuh… Someone, someone large and powerful, walks through with their hands behind their back. Ah, camera, don't observe directly, monitor the space in the surrounding area, track when lines of sight to background objects is disrupted-.

"I hardly need that-"

And now I can see him.

"-now."

The face is more or less correct. His hair's a little neater and his moustache is a little shorter and thicker, but it's nothing a salon couldn't do. But the rest… He's gained about seventy centimetres in height, going from one meter sixty to two metres thirty. Most basketball players are now shorter than him, and unlike them he's gotten broader as well. He was always well-muscled, but now he's gone past bodybuilder and into metahuman territory. His altered proportions appear to be preventing him from being muscle-bound and I doubt that he's limited by merely human body tissue.

'Ugly' Mannheim also never wore a suit that good.

Mr. Free's eyes narrow.

"What..? Happened to you?"

Mr. Mannheim doesn't smile. His poise suggests confidence, yes, but his expression is completely sombre. Almost… All supervillains I've encountered would be smiling in a situation like this. Mr. Mannheim certainly used to have a livelier disposition than this.

"You remember the Justice League's attack on Apokolips?"

"Yeah?" Free Your Tongue.

"Darkseid gifted Intergang with certain pieces of equipment. Trifles, really, but that was the point. We exceeded Darkseid's expectations by defeating Infinity Man and handing the children over to him. And he rewarded me."

"You feel like… You're a New God? Is that.. possible?"

Mr. Mannheim glowers, a faint red light burning deep within his eyes. "Yes."

"No."

No is… I have anti-omega effect techniques, but they're rather dependant on me having access to my rings when I confront him. Accessing my armour's subspace arsenal and throwing stuff to block his shots isn't a great solution, but the alternative is flying through the ceiling to create debris and that… Depends on how fast they move and how much they reinforced the roof here.

"Darkseid touched me, and now everything seems so clear. So obvious."

"For those of us who aren't New Gods?"

"Darkseid broke off part of his soul and stuck it inside Mannheim. Anti-Life, Omega Force, Tyranny itself. He's connected to it all."

"And all the better for it."

"You gave Vincent Edge his change of heart. That's why he was so scared. He saw… Darkseid, and thought he was speaking to an angry God."

Of all the reasons to reform…

"He did see an angry god. The one true and absolute power in the universe showed him his own failure."

"Criminality?"

"Living in a way other than in compliance with the will of Darkseid. He has reformed acceptably. I will tolerate his continued existence, though I will crush his hopes and dreams as I crush the hopes and dreams of all who live on this world."

"I'm sorry, I'm not clear how much I'm talking to Darkseid and how much I'm talking to Bruno Mannheim right now. Are your dreams getting crushed too?"

"My dreams are Darkseid's dreams. His vision is my vision. His thoughts are my thoughts. Whatever feeble dreams I had before he transformed me are but a tiny speck in my memory."

"What is your intent here?"

"Earth is a world rich in magic. Everything is tied to everything else by the magical bonds of millennia. I was curious to see how easily those bonds could be turned to the Anti-Life. How easily it could slip from the collective unconscious of this world into the souls of every living thing."

"And then?"

"And then the fragment of Darkseid that is me shall study the broken shell of humanity for any knowledge that can be derived from their fall before I open Fire Pits and truly turn this world into the mirror of Apokolips. All for the glory that is Darkseid." Quail.

It's too early. It's too early and we're not prepared.

Dr. Balewa nods.

"A street shaman and a creature of the Green. But why the girl?"

"Through some black art she contains within her a fragment of the Anti-Life equation. This will enable me to learn of its nature even as it spreads to this world."

Zauriel hardens his face and raises his sword. "Why do you delay, then?"

"Delay? I began the moment you entered the room. Now, die." "Die for Darkseid."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:14 GMT -5

Karon tightens her hold around my shoulders as she feels me twitch, and I lean my head against her shoulder. I know what she's doing: trying to reassure me without making it obvious what she's doing. It'll take, like, a moment, but there's this thing where she kinda realizes what she's doing and she's not sure if she needs to-.

This time I snort. Which makes her turn her head towards me and get a face full of hair.

Okay, a chin full of hair. I need to try wearing heels or something.

"Holly?"

"Just thinking."

"'kay. Thinking what?"

"It's New Years Eve. In Gotham. And we're walking down a street in The Bowery like it's no big."

"We're both carrying."

"Yeah-yeah, but that's just 'cause… I mean, duh. But you really think we're gunna have to use 'em?"

"No. No, I don't."

"And it's New Year, and I don't think some crazy Arkham-escapee's gonna try anything. How 'bout you?"

"Huh."

"Yeah. 'Huh'. We're-. We're actually doing good. You, and me, and-. And the city. And I don't think it's just 'cause Batman busted some guy. I think it's… Like… Fixed."

"And lemme guess, you've got three days 'til retirement."

Huh?

"No? I've got, like, fifty years-. Oh. No. I mean, I'm prob'bly gonna live 'til retirement, but… It's nice. Like the future's taken care of and we can just live."

Karon stops, and I stop with her. I look up, and she's sort of looking around in a way that I wouldn't have dared to do a couple years ago 'cause it makes you look like you don't know where you are and stand out and stuff and that's just asking to get mugged. I mean, this street's not all that… Huh. Guess I never really looked at it eith-.

It's tall and dark and I can feel the streets pressing in around me and why did I think coming out was a good idea? A girl-.

There's a pressure on my hand and for a moment I think they've got me but I look up and I see it's Karon and I can see the same look in her eyes and we need to get out of here!

I grab her back and we run, we run back towards the bridge and I can hear screams around us but with the rows of buildings I can't see what or who's screaming and there's a guy-.

We skid to a halt and in his face I see alla the guys who used to fuck me and then I see his face and it's just some guy but that just means he hasn't tried me yet and he could, he could.

He's going to.

And I just stand there because that's what I do and Karon's got her gun out and-

BANG! BANG!

-she shoots him but there's a world full of guys like him all around us-.
And That's Just How It Is.
"C'm on."

She keeps her gun in her hand and grabs me with the other, grabs my upper arm and not my hand and pulling me because I belong to her for whatever she wants because she shot him and she'll shoot them and that's fine.
And That's Just How It Is.
It's better to be a toy than a dishcloth.

31st December 2012
14:19 GMT -5

Zauriel lunges, burning sword raised and air vibrating with his voice.

"No."

Mannheim steps forward and catches him around the throat too quickly for me to see. He yanks Zauriel towards him and I see his lips move for a moment before he drop Zauriel to the floor.

"N-o-o."

Zauriel collapses onto his back, sword abandoned, body convulsing and what looks like silver… Blood? Leaking from his eyes.

"Ignorant angel. You will learn. All is one in Darkseid, now and forever."

I could try looking into Zauriel, try to work out what the Anti-Life's doing to him and maybe fix it. But that opens a point of vulnerability. Mundane attacks, let Dr. Balewa and Mr. Free handle the exotic aspect.

"Activate gauntlets and lunge."

"Miss." Unimpeachable Authority.

He sidesteps as I swing my right palm, arms back behind his back, expression calm. Come on, I've always been sceptical about this. He's a large target. No matter how agile he is, there's only so much space for him to move to. And my kinetic system lets me move in all directions without worrying about momentum.

"Armour, message-"

I reverse direction and he steps back, and I immediately extend the kinetic barrier behind him, causing-.

He just steps through it.

"-team: any time."

Accelerate towards him, then.

He backs up but I'm faster, my arms swinging inwards to clap him-.

He catches my wrists just below the crumbler zone. Which means that his head is in exactly the right place for the purple ray. Not sure if having an evil god in your soul is healable-

I trigger the ray and shoot him in the face.

-but I'll give it a try.

He doesn't even notice. "All you build will come to naught."

"Maybe, but not to-"

I charge upwards, his hands still clasped around my wrists. The ceiling explodes, a broken-down dryer going flying across the room.

"-day."

His eyes glow a very faint red and I fly up through the building, the plaster board used for the weak interior divides bursting all over the place as he keeps holding on and not even bothering to try and attack me. I try and manoeuvre so that a lump of it at least blocks his face off, but it's not happening. Then I guess it's another-

Boof!

-floor-!

And-. And he's gone?

Ring active. Alert! Major mental alternations detected.

What? Considering, I feel f-.

Worldwide.

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:14 GMT -5

"Ah..?"

I try to sound patient, but honestly.

"Look, kid, if you wanna have a secret identity, you have to take into account that anyone trying to work out who you are is going to have facial recognition software."

"I'm-. Wearing a mask."

He's wearing a domino 'I couldn't be bothered to get an actual mask' mask, and it does nothing to disguise his skin, his jaw line, his hair or his irises. I could probably take a picture of him with my phone's camera and have his Social Security number inside a minute, if it wasn't for the fact that the only reason I'm hassling him is because I just spotted Shelly Gaynor in what is clearly bondage gear and a whip and I'm trying to work out whether I should pretend I haven't recognised her or not.

"It barely covers your nose."

This guy, though, he's just wearing skin tight spandex and a domino mask. Color co-ordination's okay, his logo looks like a sound wave, and that's probably his name. Fourteen years ago I did Superman's first interview and that.. felt like a big deal. Not a lot of superheroes in Metropolis in '98, and he'd just caught a plane. Now I'm at a party with a bunch of guys in costume and I don't have the slightest idea if any of them can do anything, much less if they have already done anything worth calling them 'heroes' over.

"Superman doesn't wear a mask."

Which was a refuge in audacity. After he told me, I said that if the reporting didn't work out he could have a career as an actor. After he told me, and after I calmed down, I said that if reporting didn't work out he could have a career as an actor. I actually watched him go from 'Clark' mode to 'Superman' mode right in front of me and I could barely believe it. But I obviously couldn't tell this guy that, or someone clever enough to get around Clark's acting ability but not clever enough to know when to shut up might start work it out and start blabbing.

"If someone found out Superman's secret identity -if he even has one- then what exactly are they going to do about it? He doesn't get less indestructible when he's off the clock."

"They-. Okay, but they could go after his family?"

"Superboy and the Supergirls are as tough as he is, and someone throws me off a building about once a month. I've gotten used to it. Whereas if someone found out his secret identity they could, what, pick a fight with the rest of his family of superstrong aliens?"

…

"So you think I should get a bigger mask?"

"And something tougher than spandex to wear. Unless you're bullet-proof. Are you bullet-proof?"

"Ah…"

"Have you ever been shot?"

He's slightly slumped, like the overgrown child I suspect that he is. "No."

My own bullet wounds healed up a long time ago, and I'm not showing this guy the scars. Because he's an ignorant fool in a room full of ignorant fools and most of them are going to die doing something-.

G-uh! Telepathic attack! No one obvious around, because I'm in a room full of people in costumes, and about half of them look like they're about to start crawling the walls. Mass attack. Not many telepaths who can do that-.

"Ms. Lane."

Shelly isn't crawling the walls. She had been acting a little awkward, going out in public dressed like a professional mistress, but now she actually looks like a professional mistress. She's confident and commanding in a way that I'm not right now, and I don't know if she has actual superpowers or if that 'turning her body into a living weapon' thing was just for the blurb. Jimmy's got his watch for calling Clark but he's hiding under the table right now. I could call him, but I'm not more important than everyone else who's being affected.

And I should try and get the story because observing more important people is all that I can do…

That… Wasn't one of my thoughts. I'm not self-conscious about the fact that Clark's stronger than me. I used to be self-conscious about the fact that he competed with me for stories, and…

And I just thought that him doing that and having superpowers too invalidates me, and I don't believe that.

"You will come with me."

"I'm seeing someone."

And if he lied to me about being human of all things, he's obviously lying about other things too. He-.

He's the worst liar I know. He gets awkward when he sees me put recycling in the general waste because he doesn't like it but doesn't like calling me out.

He lies to the entire world every day.

Who's doing this! When-!

The lash at Shelly's waist becomes a noose around my neck.

"You will come with me. Now."

31st December 2012
14:20 GMT -5

What?

Alert! Major mental alternations detected. Worldwide effect.

The people who were lying on the floor are still there, staring up at me.

"You cannot escape the master." / "You cannot escape the master." / "You cannot escape the master." / "You cannot escape the master." / "You cannot escape the master." / "You cannot escape the master."

I mentally grit my teeth and look inside them, seeing-. It's creeping back. It's not fully integrated, but-.

They're not part of a group mind. They've been told something repeatedly and now that they're feeling the same way they're parroting it. Like members of a Christian church praying the same way when under stress.

Contact the League or go back down?

"Orange Lantern to Batman, situation FUBAR. Busy."

I take a moment to augment my armour with hardpoint-mounted railguns loaded with a mixture of rounds… Won't be able to reload, but if you need more than a hundred rounds then two hundred probably won't be enough either. Done?

Task complete.

And I drop, the floors shooting past and my kinetic barrier flaring as I hit the floor, guns searching for-.

"He is not here." Dr. Balewa looks haggard, drained of vitality. Mr. Free is-. Appears alright, pressing his Mother Box into the machine. Zauriel on the other hand is on his knees, hands clasped in prayer. "I do not know if he ever was. Are you infected?"

"I don't think so."

"Ping."

My environmental shield flickers back into life, and I head over to Mr. Sage's body.

"Can we get them out?"

"No." Mr. Free shakes his head. "Their souls are in the machine. There's no way to get them out while Mannheim's still alive. How does it-?"

"According to my ring, it's affecting the whole world. If there's nothing we can do here, then we need to link up with the League."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:14 GMT -5

"Teleporters, huh?"

Yeah. Teleporters. Honestly, it feels like overkill. Between Batman, Gordon and Orange Lantern, crime in Gotham is as low as it's ever been. But it's not just them, it's… People. People not being prepared to take that shit any more. People being prepared to step up, to take a risk to do the right thing. I think that even if Batman disappeared tomorrow, things wouldn't ever get that bad again.

'course, the crazies would have a field day, but lots of cities had crazy theme criminals without turning into Gotham.

"Yeah. Teleporters."

Might be… Nice, though. I thought becoming Orpheus would… Put me in a hell of a lot of danger, but that I'd be fighting the good fight. And ever since I joined the Alliance, I've mostly just been training other people. I mean, that's not nothing. People should know how to handle themselves. But I thought there'd be more actual fighting against criminals, not just contact sparring with my students.

Onyx looks away from the teleporter and towards me, like she can hear what I'm thinking.

Fine.

Or getting my ass whooped by Onyx.

But teleporters. Now we can do what the guys in the Congregation can do, except we won't drop them right into combat and can actually organize things.

"We didn't have teleporters in the League of Shadows."

"Did you have wizards?"

"There were a few wizards, but none of them could teleport people. We just used planes or ships to travel long distances."

"The League had its own ships?"

"Some of the League's front companies did. Otherwise we just stowed away, or replaced the crew."

And I can guess what she means by 'replaced'. No, I shouldn't assume. They might just have drugged them or something. Onyx… She's fine talking about the League in general terms, but she doesn't like talking about her record. I wasn't all that keen on her being here when I found out, but after I talked it over with Father Bruno I realised that she left before the mass arrests. She walked away knowing they'd probably kill her for it, because she couldn't stand living that life any more.

"You want to head over there now, or-?"

No. Not yet.

We look at each other and nod. We both feel his intent, and we live to fulfil it.

Or die to fulfil it.

Moving as one, our steps in synchronicity, we walk into the storage cupboard and pull out the crates marked 'helmets'. At the time I couldn't work out why Vincent sent them to us.

Now I no longer need to doubt.

Still worth checking that the people packing them did it right so we both flip open the lids. I'm too simple minded to understand the principles, but they all look like I instinctively know that they should. Onyx and I close the boxes and walk back into the training room.

Most people here aren't metahumans, and don't have any other kind of power. But a lot of them ran with gangs, though from the way they're cowering and weeping to themselves right now you'd never know it. Guess it was just a front.

Or maybe they're just not far enough along to just be honest with themselves about their place in the universe.

Soon fix that. And it's not that they'll be happy, but that they'll understand that their happiness doesn't matter.

"Listen up! Get over here and put these on! They'll help!"

Some walk, some crawl. Some clearly aren't seeing the world around them like it is, their minds snapped by the revelation.

"…pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death…"

And some picked the losing side. That mostly doesn't matter. Everyone will come to understand, before the end. But right now we have a part to play in his plan and this fool needs to get with the program.

"Hey. You gonna put this on?"

Onyx holds one out to the Lowlie, but he just shakes his head, fingers whitening as he grasps his crucifix tighter. It won't help in the long run, but he's clearly not on-side right now.

I walk over, grab it with one hand and throw it away.

"What-? What d'ya do that for, m-?"

"You will be free of the burden of free will soon."

I punch him in the nose, breaking it and knocking him to the floor. Then I kick him hard in the head. Probably not enough to kill him, even with my boots, but he's not going to get up in a hurry.

"Necessary?"

Onyx isn't accusing me of being wasteful. It's my decision. She just needs to hear it.

"We're justified." I look over to the rest of my squad, who with the help of their helmets are adjusting better to reality. "Beat him to death, then join us in Washington."

"Anti-Life justifies our actions."

They step up, and I feel a moment of prideful satisfaction. Perhaps I shouldn't, but I think that the Master will tolerate it so long as it's pride in obedience to Him.

Onyx and I fall back in step as they get back to work. The teleporter will pick us up when they're ready for us, and then we'll show the world that Mannheim Is.

31st December 2012
14:22 GMT -5

"Don't use the zeta tubes or the boom tube."

I nod as Dr. Balewa wrestles with whatever's inside the building's staff. It… It doesn't look like he's winning.

"I can fly us up to the Watchtower, or anywhere on Earth. Mister Miracle says that we need to find Mannheim to shut it down."

"We haven't found him yet, and most of the League is being affected too."

Most-? "Sir? Are you-?"

"Yes. I'm working through it."

Which is… Possible, Amon demonstrated that. But it won't stop him feeling like shit while he does it.

"Sir, if you're not at your best then I can bring Doctor Mist to you. He may be able to help."

"No. I don't m-. It's more important to get front line fighters back in action."

"Sir."

"Take your group to Kahndaq and make sure that Teth Adom is capable of fighting. Let me know when you're done. Batman out."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
22:14 GMT +3

When I started trying to learn magic, a lot of the stuff I read looked like a load of bollocks to me. Which is how I ended up making my father shrivel up like a raisin without meaning to, which taught me the valuable lesson that just because something looks like bollocks that doesn't mean that it is bollocks. And that following instructions without knowing what's going on is a bloody stupid thing to do.

And a while later, I learned that while a lot of stuff that gets written about magic is bollocks from people who knew something was happening but didn't understand it, some of it isn't.

And a while later than that, I learned that the whole thing is a mess and pretty much anything has the meaning you think it has. The meaning you give it.

Which is why I've been picking up handfuls of sand and dropping them all day.

Amynta and the other girls have been staring at me like they think I've gone off the deep end. The way Paul says it, they're treating me like I've been touched by the gods. Like I've been given wisdom and madness and they shouldn't expect me to make sense to people who haven't. Fact is, as long as my seals on my own powers keep working I'm not much different from how I was before that mess on Roanoke.

Much different.

Because there's something wrong with this sand.

Which probably means there's nothing wrong with the sand, and what I'm actually picking up is something else via a kind of magical self-hypnosis, part of my cosmic awareness trickling past my seals and banging on my brain until I let it in. Or something so bad that it's actually bad down to the level of sand on a beach off the coast of Themyscira.

Which would be pretty bad.

So what I need to think about is whether I let it happen and assume that someone else has got it, or dust off the Helmet and deal with it myself.

Surprised I lasted this long, to be honest.

I stand up, which makes the guards actually start paying attention again. But more in a 'stare at the freak' way than in a 'get ready for a fight' way. Can't really hold that against them. I doubt they're really keen on having a man around and there's only so many jokes I can make about opening jars.

I take a deep breath, and release the first stage of the seal.

And breathe in, and breathe out.

Immediately I feel jittery. There's a weight on the world that wasn't there before Hyde Park. Don't know how long it's been there but neither of the magics running through me like it. Chaos doesn't like it because it's stifling. Order… Order doesn't like it because it's overriding existing systems.

Breathe in.

Systems. Order doesn't usually react to systems changing. Why is it-?

I toss the gold-glowing sand, grains flying out and blowing in conjured wind to do a circuit of the island. Not enough time to do all of Themyscira but it'll at least-.

Shit.

It's like a… Film. Oily, spread just between the physical and the magic running throughout the world. My counter is rushed and sloppy, drawing on what I learned from Themyscira's wards and what Rama Khan used on Jarhanpur.

Severing a part of the world with magic. Amazing how he just won't see that's why it grabbed a replacement as soon as it could.

Mine's not quite that brutal. More of a translation network. As the sand drifts to the ground on the far side of the island I've set up a bubble of normal, with the relationships and structures both set and moving in relation to each other according to how they were before. And it's connected to the magics of the rest of the world but only on terms of what was before. It's bad: nothing truly new can be added on one side and diffuse across to the other, and I feel the world resist the unnatural set-up.

The world will have to deal with it.

Sand grains land.

Spell comes alive.

Oil hits but can't cross.

Breathe out.

The new oily-order from the far sides revolts and complains, alternately begging and demanding that the old order complies. But the border is chaos and is unmoved, delighting in the disquiet.

That should hold. Until whoever did that gets a few wizards over here to kick holes in it.

Fuck.

I need to talk to the guv'nor.

31st December 2012
21:22 GMT +2

I'm flying with Dr. Balewa and Zauriel in tow, because we can't risk anything exotic. Mr. Free is flying with us under his own power.

America is in chaos. And that's the good parts.

Around Alliance of the Just centres there is a great deal of organisation. People who joined up early appear to be directing things, while the rest are wearing some sort of New God tech helmet which is probably helping keep them… Going. Functioning.

Atlantis has deployed heavy duty magic shields on all of the cities I could even detect. Not sure if that's going to help, but best of luck to them. As a result I can't really tell how they're doing. They didn't have any Alliance of the Just outposts, but… But this isn't just about that.

Not a lot going on in northwest Africa. As far as I can tell they're being affected, but… The psychological affront to the ego is the difference between expectation and reality. If your expectations are low enough you can take almost anything. People appear to be… Staggering through life.

"I can't…"

"Zauriel?"

He's kneeling in the same position he had when I first put him on my construct platform for support.

"I cannot hear the Kingdom of Heaven. I cannot hear the great celestial chorus that is the manifestation of the Most High's eternal presence."

"And I know that you're used to being able to feel that, but over ninety nine percent of humans who've ever lived haven't been able to hear that either. It isn't gone; you're just suffering from the effects of Anti-Life exposure."

"Anti-Life should not have such power!"

I blink in surprise at his vehemence.

"We're a clever lot, us mortals. And it clearly does. Alternately, it's powerful enough to entirely subvert the Source, which I do not believe. Why is your faith so weak that you believe that?"

"My faith-. It-."

Mr. Free nods. "Anti-Life. It makes a lot of things you wouldn't believe when you were in a normal frame of mind seem a whole lot more believable." "But we'll free ourselves from it."

Zauriel looks at him like he's grasping a lifeline.

"You are still..?"

"Yes. So it's just another lie, and we'll work through it in time."

Zauriel nods slowly. "Thank you. I will… I will adapt."

"Good, because from the looks of things, Kahndaq needs our help again."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
21:23 GMT +2

Kahndaq's border is not as well defined as it used to be.

The Sheeda were here for resources, not to fight duels against our greatest warriors unless there was a strategic psychological advantage in doing so. With Adom, Adrianna and Amon all perfectly capable of detecting them regardless of their stealth abilities, they prioritised softer targets. Their neighbours. Refugees fled for safety, the neighbouring nations collapsed, and while some have achieved a degree of self-governance it's pretty clear that they're taking their leads from Adom.

Point is, between the security he brings and the regreening that Adrianna brings, everyone around here likes him.

Except the giant mutant insectoids currently fighting the Kahndaqi army. They're about fifty metres tall each, and tough enough that small arms are doing nothing to their exoskeletons.

"I feel the Power of Atum. He is shielding them with his spirit."

"Okay." I generate railgun constructs and open fire, green chitin exploding wherever my shots hit home. I get a brief cheer from the soldiers I just relieved before they jog off to the next crisis point. "Can-?"

"Insectoids. Highfather told me about them. Apokolips once used them to invade New Genesis."

I target the legs of one about to level an apartment block, blood erupting from the new holes in its left knee a moment later. It collapses sideways into the street with an ear-piercing screech, and I take a moment to shoot out its other leg as well.

"Get down there, see if you can interrupt their control. I'd rather they have free will than be slaves of the Anti-Life."

"They're creatures of Anti-Life. It's an intrinsic part of their existence."

"Then they die, but at least they die free."

Not a statement I'd believe if I was less secure in my own post-mortem arrangements, but it sounds uplifting. And it should-.

"I know you don't believe that." "But I do."

"Alright, but-."

And he's gone, flying towards the giant who is weakly trying to pull itself down the street towards the people firing anti-tank rockets at its head.

"Zauriel, can you fly under your own power?"

He spreads his wings, weakly flapping to rise off my construct. "I will suffice. I will put these benighted beasts out of their misery."

He swoops off, heading north towards Cairo at speed, echoes of his song reaching us a few moments later.

"Good. Doctor-?"

He radiates gold-white for a moment, then a wave of similarly-coloured energy shooting across the landscape.

"Doctor?"

"There. That will fortify Teth Adom's efforts. I am-." He stumbles, and I have to use constructs to prop him up. "I am afraid thet… My power is being disrupted by this… Mannheim's work."

"Is the white light-?"

"No. If he were thet strong-."

I nod. "We wouldn't be talking. But I don't understand why I'm not being affected."

"Your soul is unnatural and made for the most part of a universal force. I think thet Mannheim is using the Earth's magic to spread the Anti-Life. To effect you, he would hev to spread it in person."

I nod, taking a few more shots with my railguns. "Good to know."

"Thet is what I think based on what I know now. I could be wrong."

"I'll bear that in mind."

I fly us upwards, railguns continuing to fire until every insectoid in Beni Suef has fallen to the ground. I can see squads armed with rockets providing cover for demolition teams, who run closer in order to plant shaped charges on the weak points of their carapaces in order to finish them off.

"Orange Lantern to Teth Adom." No, no, I doubt that he's got a phone on him or the time to answer one if he did. "Orange Lantern to Falil."

Who might well not have time to answer, and who might well be dead at this point, but is probably-.

"Orange Lantern? What-? What is going on? We-?"

"Apokolips is using a proxy to attack Earth. Everyone's getting low-level Anti-Life infection. Don't know where the insects are coming from."

I get a clear look at Shiruta, where tanks and attack planes are firing on the assaulting insects. Retarget railguns and fire.

"Where's Adom?"

"In his temple. It is-. It is taking all that he has-"

A highly localised lightning storm forms around an insectoid that had penetrated far into the city, the air and water inside briefly turning to plasma. It dissipates a moment later, the insectoid's head and upper shoulders having been entirely vaporised.

Nice to see that Adrianna's getting on so well with the Amulet of Isis. Didn't know it could do plasma.

"-to shield the rest of us. I was-. We were all affected when it first-. First happened. I don't know how Osiris survived-."

A monster insect emerges from the ocean and receives a craniotomy for its efforts as jets scream by.

"Can he keep it up?"

"He… Said that he could. He has not faltered since, and does not appear to have weakened."

"And Osiris?"

"His power comes from.. Adom. He-."

"Understood."

So Adrianna is pulling solo duty here. Explains why the attack is still going on. No disrespect intended, but she's nothing like as aggressive as her husband and brother and her powers don't increase her strength or resilience all that much. And she'll have to stay to keep the country safe. So what can I-?

"Can Adom speak, or does he need to focus completely?"

"He can speak. His is monitoring our armed forces at the moment. Do you need to speak with him?"

"I need to see if he can tutor Captain Marvel to do what he's doing. I think that the person doing this is in America. If we can free the rest of the country-."

"I will put you through at once."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
21:28 GMT +2

Amon smiles when he sees me. He's made a point of getting in shape even outside his empowered form, though he's not quite as impressive like this. "Hello, Orange Lantern. What is the plan?"

"We haven't got that far, yet. The first wave of insects is being managed, but we've got no real idea how to stop the Anti-Life."

He frowns, but even without the Courage of Montu he doesn't seem particularly bothered. "That is what is driving everyone mad?"

"I get the impression that it's triggering what's there already. Magnifying the worst of them. Not like with you where they just tried to overpower you."

Dr. Balewa half walks and half staggers over to the shrine where Adom is… Praying? That, or meditating. I'm a little surprised that he's not more involved in the defence, but I suppose that I should take it as a good sign that he's got enough competent people under him that he doesn't need to.

"Batman is working on a plan?"

"I really hope so."

"You don't have one yourself?"

"I have two that are relevant. One would take about four minutes and involves evacuating everyone I care about from the planet and letting the rest go hang. The other would take months."

He looks a little disconcerted. "Four minutes? That is… That is not a great many people."

I shrug. "It's the important ones. Adom?"

"I care about all of the people of Kahndaq. But abandoning the world to its fate is something that my pride could never accept."

"Well, yes, that's why I haven't just done it yet. So, you think you can teach Captain Marvel by phone, or do you need him to come here?"

"He would merely be acting as a vector for Lord Zeus's power-" I wince. "-so there is little that he needs to learn. Why did you make that expression?"

"I organised a revolution that got Zeus overthrown. I think that Captain Marvel currently uses Susano's lightning, but I… Didn't follow up."

"Susano. Who is 'Susano'?"

"Shinto god of various things, including lightning."

I can hear Adom not sigh.

"Obviously, if I'd have known this was going to happen I wouldn't have done it yet, but Zeus had needed to go for a while."

"Is he powerful?"

"Um."

"It is not a question of power. It is a question of whether or not he is willing to risk himself. Zeus is proud. He would not tolerate his people falling under the control of another." He glances pointedly at me. "When he had a choice. The Shinto pantheon think strategically. It may be thet they decide thet we will win, and so not concern themselves."

"Or that we're going to lose, so they'd rather try barricading themselves in Shinto Heaven. But we don't really lose anything by asking."

"I should at least be able to discover whether or not it is possible by speaking with him over the phone."

"Orange Lantern to Batman."

There's a delay, during which I'm decidedly concerned that-.

"Go."

"Adom's using the Power of Atum to keep the Anti-Life out of Kahndaq. They were under attack by giant Apokoliptian insectoids but we've dealt with that for now. Adom's depowered while he's doing it-" Aside from the Danner formula, but that's hardly likely to make a difference in this situation. "-but he might be able to teach Captain Marvel. Is there a Lantern with him?"

"Thirty seconds."

The connection drops, presumably so that he can work out who's closest. I mean, just about every form of mundane and exotic communication has to be completely open to the enemy at this point.

"Teth Adom. How long can you maintain this?"

"Until I die, or Lord Montu does." He considers something for a moment. "Orange Lantern. Do they have that power? Would the Anti-Life twist the minds of the gods?"

"Ah, the Anti-Life is supposed to be universal, but I can't see how they could test it on gods as easily as on mortals. I'd guess that at the very least they'd have a harder time, and that Lord Montu has long since dealt with his own psychological weaknesses. If infecting Lord Montu was easy, you wouldn't be able to shield people with his power. Um, and when you say 'until I die'..?"

"I expect to live another forty or fifty years if I cannot use my powers again. Or though since I have Professor Danner's potion, perhaps it would be three times that."

My ring blinks.

"Answer."

Alan's face appears for a moment, nods, then is replaced by Captain Marvel's face.

"Hey."

He sounds about as low as I've ever heard him. I switch my ring's perspective so that it shows Adom instead of me.

"Captain Marvel. It should be possible for you to aid your countrymen in throwing off the Anti-Life as I am my people." Marvel nods, completely focused. "Get to somewhere safe, and then follow my instructions."

31st December 2012
14:28 GMT -5

Civilization is falling to some madman and we're in Washington DC for an impromptu Nuremberg rally. The League are a no-show. This is it. The end-.

I clutch my head, abandoning any effort to pretend that I'm fine to Shelley, while she carries on as if she didn't feel anything. I've been attacked telepathically before but this is something else. What sort of sick bastard-.

"Shelley, what the hell are we doing here?"

"You are here to bear witness to a statement of power."

"The guys in Stormtrooper helmets?"

And boy are there a lot of them. It's gotta be mind control. More and more people are falling in line without any organization. No one's telling them to do it, they're just getting in line.

Waiting for someone. Or something.

"No." She yanks on the noose, and though I could totally throw her off I decide to go along with it. "Watch."

She tugs my head in the direction of-

BOOM!

-the Lincoln Memorial, which means that I get a front row seat to seeing it demolished by the giant grey and red robot which strides through the portal.

"Classy. What is it?"

"That is Finality Man, and it is here to kill the Justice League."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:34 GMT -5

I set William down on the Belle Reve helipad and put my right hand on his left shoulder to support him as he slumps.

"Are you managing?"

"Ah… Managing? I think so." He tries smiling, but it doesn't look right, and he picks up on my reaction. "It really… Doesn't feel good, though. Are you sure you don't need me to do anything?"

"You're a child who can block the Anti-Life. No one here is going to care about anything else."

He nods. Must be frustrating to be treated as an adult as Captain Marvel and then be routinely dismissed as William Batson. Even though Captain Marvel is a good deal more intelligent than when he's in William mode.

"Orange Lantern to Warden Waller." I march in the direction of the entry point. "Ring, put that on repeat until she answers."

"Compliance."

William cautiously follows me towards the fortified gateway that would lead into the prison. Usually, this would be constantly manned night and day, but under the circumstances I shouldn't be too surprised that it's not. I am mildly impressed that the guards managed to retreat inside. If that's what happened: the wards are blocking my empathic vision. They might have fled, or-.

"Lantern. What the hell is going on?"

"Anti-Life broadcast. We can't stop it yet. I'm here to perform an evacuation."

"You can't stop it? Then how am I thinking straight?"

"Metahuman, but he can only block it over a small area. As soon as he leaves-."

"I get the picture." I hear the clacking of keys in the background. "Security's fucked. I can't open the door, just override the emergency response."

"I can break in. But I have orders for you."

"From who?"

"The President."

"Horne or Knight?"

"Adams."

"Who?"

"There's a giant super-robot in Washington and the entire population is forming neat lines under the orders of their mind control helmets." I smash the door apart with a crumbler ram, and the alarm sounds only once. "Including the former President and the President Elect. Proven unnatural mental influence automatically removes someone from the line of succession."

"Shit. Who's Adams? How far down-?"

"The highest ranking air force officer we could find who wasn't completely non-functional." Thank goodness he was on the Watchtower when this happened. Apparently it's too high up to be affected easily by the corruption of the thaumosphere. "Can you get the guards together? I'm heading towards the prisoners now."

So many wonderfully effective security systems battered aside. I wince a little as each one crumbles.

"I can do that. We're in lock down, so they're in their cells. Or should be. What's your plan?"

"Task Force X has been approved."

"You said-."

"We're it, Warden. Most superheroes in America who weren't part of the League joined the Alliance of the Just. That's where it started. As far as we can tell, every single one is now working for Apokolips."

"Ah, hell."

"So your plan is back in action. They fight and they get a pardon. They don't, they can stay here and take their chances."

"And if they try anything?"

"We don't have the resources to waste. If they fuck around and survive, they get to be our test subject. I don't know if removing someone's soul makes them immune to the Anti-Life, but it would be interesting to find out. Kadabra's class in session?"

"It was. I'll get the staff organised."

"Orange Lantern out."

"Ah, hey."

I stop, turning to see William kneeling next to a collapsed guard. William shakes his shoulders, and the guard looks up at him with a thousand yard stare.

"What?"

"I know it's awful, what it does to your head. But right now the world needs you to get on your feet. Can you do that?"

"I..?" He shakes his head as if in a daze. "It's… It's all…"

"We're leaving in twenty minutes whether you're on your feet or not. Do you want to go back to feeling like that?"

"Nono ohGod."

He scrabbles against the wall to pull himself upright, clearly not right in the head but at least in motion. William flashes me a disappointed look before taking the guard's right hand.

"This way, mister."

"Ri-right."

A little way down the corridor… And the door is missing.

Sonic projector.

"Kadabra, it's Orange Lantern. We're here to get you out."

There's a brief delay, then the door appears and Thomas very cautiously sticks his head out. I've never actually seen him look scared before, but he's doing it now. He's half-cringed and tense as a cable. After seeing that it's really me he relaxes a little.

"Hey, man."

"Thomas."

I walk up to him, push the door the rest of the way open, and hug him. It's a sign of how off-kilter he is that he actually hugs back. For about two seconds. I let go the instant I spot him getting uncomfortable, and he steps back into the room.

Kadabra's class is a little larger than it used to be. Or as I should say, the educational program. These days, he's not actually the only teacher. The privileges that come with actually teaching the other inmates useful skills are good enough that several inmates with useful skills have volunteered, and if they're not a total psycho Waller generally lets them.

"Kadabra."

He's sitting on his desk, looking a little more together than the other students. Looking, because I can see that it's due to his implants.

"That was Anti-Life, wasn't it?"

"It still is. We're not out of the woods. The world is infected and we can't turn it off. Who wants out?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:41 GMT -5

"What're you going to do to him?"

I raise my left eyebrow as I destroy the entrance to the arcane containment section of the prison and step aside as the bleary-eyed duty magicians stumble out.

"Enslave him permanently, mind, body and soul." I put my right hand on the shoulder of the closest magician. "Which way to Colin Thornton's cell?"

31st December 2012
14:47 GMT -5

"Gentlemen."

I float through the middle of the men's cell block, a grey blur in my visual field where Mr. Crock is standing. My ring will also turn his voice into that of a commercially available voice generation program. The prisoners I've come to know through my visits are lined up behind me, their costumes on and their equipment in-hand.

"What you were feeling until a few minutes ago is something called 'Anti-Life'. A man named Bruno Mannheim -head of Intergang- has used it to mind control the majority of the population of Earth. And by 'majority', I mean about ninety nine point nine percent. He has to all intent and purposes conquered the Earth. His aim, so far as we can tell, is make everyone feel so completely miserable all of the time that they voluntarily renounce free will and celebrate as he uses and eventually disposes of them."

"If you want to know what that would be like, remember how you felt half an hour ago, forever."

A few winces, but most remain outwardly impassive. Some are new faces, but most of them… Aren't ever going to be anything but supervillains. This is the other side of the in-prison social divide.

"Or at least until you jump off a building with joy in your heart that you will no longer inconvenience your master. So I'm here to offer you a choice, and a temporary escape. Sign up with Task Force X today, and walk out of prison a penal legionnaire! The Justice League's secure accommodation is guaranteed as Anti-Life proof as anywhere on Earth, food's reasonable, and you'll be pardoned at the end of the campaign."

That actually gets a twitch from Mr. Crock.

"Yes, you can imagine exactly how happy I am about making that offer, and what it suggests for our odds. Still, the offer's genuine, and gives you a slightly better chance of survival than staying here. The ladies and gentlemen behind me have already accepted. Do you have any questions, bearing in mind that we've got about fifteen minutes until the Justifier force from Baton Rouge gets here and turns this into an actual fight."

"What the hell happened to the military?"

That… Was from a vaguely ogre-looking fellow who… Isn't in my database.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've been introduced."

"You put me in here. Eiling, Wade. General."

How did he end up-? Okay, there's a certain irony to him being used in experimental testing, but don't they have military prisons or-.

Task Force X was still ongoing, and they were going to use him.

I don't know why I'm surprised.

"The Anti-Life effect is worldwide. The military isn't more immune than anyone else. They're either crippled or Justified. That's stage two of exposure, where the afflicted voluntarily kowtow to Mannheim. We can't protect mass troop deployments from the Anti-Life and in any case anyone not protected works for the enemy. Trying to fight this as an actual war will kill more people than the Sheeda did. Compared to weaponry we already possess, military assets aren't worth the risk in trying to acquire."

The grey blur representing Mr. Crock has come as close to me as he can with the bars in the way.

"Why us?"

"We can't afford to grind this out. This fight will end with targetted strikes against Anti-Life broadcasters and against Mannheim himself once we've located him. Aside from a few elite military units, you collectively fit the requirements far better, and… Almost all of them were Justified before we could get to them."

"And what happens if we tell you to fuck yourself?"

That was… Alexander Trent. Bloodsport 2. The Nazi one, not the delusional one.

"I leave you here, in your cells. The power suppression system is still active, and the Justifiers are on the way. The staff will be pulling out with me, so there's a small chance that you could get out before they arrive, but the Anti-Life protection system leaves with me. And if the Justifiers ignore you and go somewhere else, you'll be stuck in your cells with no food or water or toilet facilities."

I smile beatifically.

"But the choice is yours."

Joar Mahkent's face is impassive.

"And what makes you think you can trust us? We ain't like those bootlickers behind you."

"I'm glad that you asked. The original plan for Task Force X was to give the participants explosive collars or implants. I regard that as inefficient."

I release Construct-Lantern Colin Thornton, and a few of the less hardened inmates recoil.

"You may recognise Colin Thornton, aka Lord Satanus. He keeps access to his demonic magic in this form, and I had him write up a contract."

It's not a long contract, covering the cogent points of the deal on offer. I float a copy each over to Mr. Mahkent and Mr. Crock.

"You have but to sign it and I will release your cage. As you've no doubt realised it's a magically-enforced demonic contract. The penalty for breaching the terms is your soul immediately being forfeit. It's an unpleasant way to die, and then you're in Hell. The terms-"

They're both looking through it, and their neighbours are leaning in to try and read it.

"-are enforced by the magic in the contract, so it won't matter how, say, Batman or Superman feel about it."

"This your idea?"

"Yes, Mister Crock. It is."

"Thought you were going to kill me if you ever saw me again."

"All I'm seeing is a grey blur. Please signal your agreement to the terms with a drop of your blood."

"I'm not signing a demon contract I haven't read."

"Alright, but I'm going to start ferrying guards to safety now, and I'm taking the Anti-Life jammer with me. So feel free to-."

"I'll sign!" I look around as Mr. Flinders waves an oversized hand. "You're letting the women's side out too, yeah?"

"Certainly." I float a contract over to him as he bites his right forefinger with his right lower canine. "Time permitting."

He presses his bleeding finger against the paper, which glows for a moment and then puffs out of existence in a cloud of sulphur. I then crumble the bars of his cell, along with his suppression collar.

I take a moment to make eye contact with the waverers, and float contracts over to all of them. There's reluctance and attempts to see what everyone else is doing, but after a few seconds they start signing.

"Thank you all. Oh, and so you know? You're pardoned whether you live or die. So congratulations. Today is the first day of the rest of your life."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Jet Fighter

25th October 1998
21:12 GMT -7

"Ohshitshitohshit!" The terrified man laying on the pavement grabs my shoulders as I crouch next to him. "You gotta call me an ambulance, man!"

I smile, grabbing the side of his coat with my right hand and pulling it up to reveal the hole.

"You're fine." I wiggle my right forefinger through the double hole. "See? They missed. Amateur gunfighters often do."

"Whu-?" He frowns in confusion, staring at me and then at his own coat.

I unhook my finger and then pat him across the torso before holding up my hand. "No blood. Are you in any major pain?"

"N-? No?" He frowns harder, shaking his head as if he can't quite believe what's happened. "I-. I was?"

"It might have skimmed you, I suppose. Bullets are quite hot when they come out of the barrel, and if it skimmed you then you might have felt a burn. Do you want a hand up?"

"Ah..?"

I move my right hand under his left armpit and then stand, pulling him half-willingly up with me. He takes a moment and then pulls away, patting himself down as if to… No, to actually reassure himself that he's not injured. After a moment of finding nothing he calms down a little.

"Ah. Thanks."

I smile a little more broadly. "Your attacker was so shocked that I just had to shout at them and they ran off. Not a big deal. Ah. Are you going to be alright getting home, or do you want me to call you a taxi?"

"Did you-? Did you get a good look at them?"

I shake my head. "Sorry. Between the bad lighting and the adrenaline, not really. I mean, if you want to report it to the police I don't mind-."

"Nah. No, I'll-." He manages to relax a little. "I'll go talk to 'em tomorrow. Right now, I just wanna go home and hug my kids. And… Change their curfew to Five PM."

He laughs awkwardly and I nod. "Sounds wise. You have a good evening."

He nods, turning to walk away. He gets about half way to the sounds and lights of the next street, then stops and turns his head back towards me. I wave, and he awkwardly nods and keeps walking.

Good job his brain wasn't quite dead when I got to him.

My right hand moves to the faintly glowing orange ring on my left ring finger. Yes, I could easily have captured the idiot youth who nearly killed him, but after something like this I think tracking them down and having a stern word with them… Helping them sort their life out, will really do more good in the long run. It was supposed to be a threat and they were genuinely horrified-.

I frown as I catch sight of a blond… Slightly ratty-looking man at the end of the road, where whoever that was I just intercepted from his premature meeting with his maker went. He ducks back when he notices that I've seen him. Not sure what that's about.

Now, where's the first-time gunfighter gone? I'm sure this would be easier on a world with an established superhero tradition, but… Needs must where the Devil drives. This city's enough of a mess that even a neophyte like me can find people to help, and… Not like there's much point starting again on this world's version of Britain.

Okay, start walking, ratty man apparently having disappeared. Compare my target's location with a local map… A bar. I haven't been here long enough to know whether it's a criminal underworld type bar or if he just wants to steady his nerves. I walk at a pace, hands in pockets and making good time. He was running, but he's not thinking straight. I could just appear next to him, but I don't really want to blow my own cover. Or prompt him to panic into a relapse. Let him calm down, then have a word.

Never really been a fan of bars. Music, too many people in close proximity, dancing and alcohol. Still, I can usually get a laugh out of the bar tender.

I sit down, and manage to catch his eye.

"Yeah?"

"Orange juice, please."

He stares at me for a moment. "You know this is a bar, right buddy?"

"Ah, I apologise. Orange juice, I'm a great tipper."

"Hahaokay." He ambles over to the bar's fridge. "You want ice?"

"In October? No, thank you."

He takes the cap off the bottle and pours it into a glass before putting it down in front of me. I pass him a twenty dollar bill before picking it up and taking a sip. Well… I… Shouldn't have expected freshly squeezed. The barman-.

"Hey."

I turn to my left, and it appears that ratty-man has followed me here. He's looking at me… Rather intensely-.

"Hello?"

"So, ah. How do you wanna do this?"

Ah. I've never really been sure how to handle this sort of situation. I knew… Los Angeles was basically America's Brighton, but it still…

Just have to learn to deal with it, I suppose.

"Ah. Look, I'm sure you're a splendid chap, but you're not really my type, and even if you were, congress in public toilets is extremely unhygien-"

"Ah, no, no-."

"ic-. Oh. Sorry, I-. Just assumed-." He looks as awkward as I feel. "I'd.. buy you a drink by way of apology, but I'm worried that would be giving mixed messages."

"No. Jesus. Look, I-. Saw what you did for that guy."

Ah.

"Are you a police officer?"

"I… Was."

I blink in bafflement. "What the heck did you do to get fired from the Los Angeles Police Department?"

"No, I was.. in the NYPD."

Okay… Nineties computers, but I'll manage-.

His right hand's gone under his coat, because… He just saw my eyes flash.

"That won't be necessary, Detective Stone-."

Who is listed as dead. Huh.

"Again, not wanting to give mixed messages, but you're looking surprisingly good for a man your age, who's been dead for fifteen years. Um. Are you under cover?"

His face hardens slightly. "How about we take this outside?"

"Um. Okay?"

I down my orange juice and then set the glass back down on the bar. Barman… It's a busy evening, and I think $20 for a small low quality orange juice covers the 'generous tip' part. I step back from the bar as Detective Stone gestures for me to go first.

The man I'm looking for is downing shots at the other end of the bar. He's not going anywhere. I nudge my way past the flow of people entering the bar and head out with a shrug. Other than myself, Detective Stone is the first sign I've seen that anything supernatural exists on the Earth, and I'm definitely curious what that-.

"Time to give the Devil his due."

"Um." I turn to face him as he raises his gun. "What?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

25th October 1998
21:17 GMT -7

BANG!

I jerk my head to the side as he shoots straight at my right eye, my environmental shield flaring!

"What are-"

BANG!

His next shot hits my left eye, making me blink in confusion at the impact. Okay, okay, my environmental shield should be able to cope with anything a handgun can throw out, but he's undead. For all I know he's going to whip out a wight blade and I'm not exactly flush with ring power.

"-you-"

BANG!

But okay, okay, the shots aren't getting through and handguns don't have that many shots.

"-doing?!"

I turn to look at him just as his fist comes around-. Knocking me back, ow! That actually hurt! But not as bad as a wight blade, so there's that. Reinforce environmental shield and get my arms up to block which stops his second punch, ow.

And counter!

Huh, I actually hit h-.

OWFuck!

And now we're wrestling and he's definitely stronger than he should be, but at least I'm not getting shot and I can certainly match him there!

GH!

Can't really do much about the fact that he knows what he's doing and I don't!

"Why are you doing this?!"

"'cause it's my job to send you back!"

He tries to trip me, but judo wasn't designed to deal with the supernatural and I anchor myself before head butting him on the nose! Follow up right.. hook? To the same place and he's forced back.

"To Britain? I don't need a visa-."

He shakes his head, and raises his right hand to wipe away blood that isn't actually there.

"To Hell."

Oh. Right. It's really more of a surprise that I haven't run into some sort of crazy American religious zealot before now. He sees something supernatural, and it must of course come from Hell. No idea what he thinks of himself, but wasn't there an X-Files episode about Christian zombies?

"I've never been to Hell, you lunatic!"

And we've drawn a crowd. No one's got cameras, but there are plenty of witnesses and it looks like Detective Stone just noticed that too.

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'? Do you just attack people for fun?"

"You're glowing orange."

I hold up my left hand, glowing ring on display.

"I have a magic ring." I exhale sharply. Okay, calm. Calm. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk about this like a civilised person?"

And there's the police siren. Detective Stone looks decidedly nervous, his gun vanishing into his coat.

"Yeah. Let's do that."

"Good show." I hold out my right hand. "Take my hand."

He takes it like he's planning on shaking it, and we vanish, transitioning onto a nearby roof.

I step back as he gets his bearings.

"So. What's it like, being a wight?"

"A-. A what?"

"Sentient undead?"

"I… Think of myself as being on parole, really. And you're telling me you're not?"

I blink. "Hell's real?"

"Yeah. Hell's real. And you're gunna need to better than 'magic ring' if you want me to buy into this whole thing."

"How… Would you tell?"

"When I shoot escapees in the eyes, they get this… Blue mist coming out."

"When you shoot them, or… Anything else?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not going to let you shoot me in the eye, because I'm using my brain. But if it helps you, I can let you stab me in one eye. That would be enough, wouldn't it?"

"Ah, I guess." He looks around. "How'd we get up here?"

"Magic-" / "Magic ring, right." / "-ring."

He doesn't look convinced. "There were necromancers in the Bible who could call souls back from Heaven. Samuel's last chat with King Saul?"

"You shouldn't-." He hesitates. "Okay. You got a knife?"

I do have a knife, because the thug from earlier dropped it in favour of his gun. I take it out of my pocket and offer it to Detective Stone. Then… I crouch down slightly to give him a clear shot.

"To the best of your knowledge, does thisahfuck!"

Reknit reknit reknit. Ah! There's the other part of my visual field!

"Happy?!"

"You're.. not an escapee."

"Thank you!"

"I don't know what you are, but you're not what I'm here for, so..."

He turns to leave.

"Ah, excuse me, I think I deserve a little more explanation after being shot repeatedly."

He stops, hesitates a moment and then half-turns back.

"A hundred and thirteen damned souls escaped Hell. I got let out to send 'em back."

"You were-?" Ah. "Your service record was excellent."

"You don't get time off for good deeds. Not from Hell. If you sin, you go down."

"That.. sounds like a positively monstrous system."

He makes a sardonic smile. "I ain't arguing, pal. I had fifteen years of-."

He stops himself, sighing.

"Look, you're not who I'm here for, and you saved that guy who got shot. How about we leave it at that."

Not as if I can't find him again the moment I want to.

"You can't tell me something like that and expect that to be all. I know good and I know evil and I know the difference between them."

He shrugs. "Then… I dunno what to tell you, pal. Do good, and don't do evil."

I smile again. "Excellent advice. But good for whom?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
14:52 GMT -5

Alan looks concerned.

"Are you sure it's safe to bring them here?"

I look down as the Justified tear apart Belle Reve's front gate with some sort of magnetism control ability before driving in. They're not trying to rush through the outer defence cordon, and if the defences were manned they would be slaughtered. Even the automated defences would probably be able to kill them.

Waller gives me a sidelong glance. "I could always turn them back on."

I shake my head. "They're almost certainly victims, too. I'll shoot through a hostage if I have to, but in this situation there's really no need."

I turn and look over to where Mr. Mahkent is sitting on a construct bench in a flying construct prison bus and watching the movements below very carefully. Unlike his old colleague Mr. Crock, he never moved beyond city-level supervillainy, but he made it work for him profitably for a prolonged period of time. He's not a fool by any means, and while he's bound against certain types of hostility he is allowed to question the people giving him orders. A politely phrased 'how do we even know these people are coming for us' is well below the level the contract penalises and also undermines me in the event that I couldn't produce.

"Satisfied?"

He grunts quietly as the Justified leave their vehicles, obviously unusual helmets on their heads.

"Then if everyone's prepared, we will now sojourn to a place of relative safety. Orange Lantern to Mister Miracle, we're about ready."

Of course, I can fly us to Salem, but the area where the Tower intersects with normal space is standing room only at the moment and we're trying to avoid-.

I consider the majority of my passengers.

And I'm trying to avoid collateral damage. Mother Box is perfectly capable of bypassing the dimensional differences between normal Earth and the Tower of Fate's exterior, though Dr. Balewa will be checking everyone thoroughly before anyone gets inside.

I wish John was here. I know Diana's going to want to check on Themyscira as soon as possible, but-.

BOOM!

I'm flying myself and my passengers forward even as the aperture appears, construct bus convoy passing through without any difficulty. And then we're in a void where the only matter appears to be the tower roof. In a legacy of Fake John's time here it isn't using the 'stony tower' skin, but looks more like the top of a science fiction tower block. Or possibly the launch bay of a military space station.

The boom tube opening shuts behind us as we come in to land. Acting President Nathaniel Adams is in full service dress uniform to emphasise his position, with a small military detail one of the other retrieval missions recovered. Dr. Balewa and Angelica are on hand to check everyone over for residual influence and Batman is here to debrief me.

I need to find out where everyone else is.

I open the bus doors, and my guests begin making their way off my constructs. The guards and William move fairly quickly, Waller in particular marching off to speak to Mr. Adams. My redemption-in-progress prisoners leave the bus and then hesitate, watching their environment carefully. The enpacted on the other hand hesitate, not out of fear but in the same way a predator would in an open space. They want to see what's going on before they commit to moving.

So I dismiss the constructs.

Most land just fine. Several glare my way but I'm mildly pleased to see that no one… Invokes their penalty clause.

"Wizards, please report to Doctor Mist. Everyone else, please form lines and we'll get you situated just as soon as we've checked you over for residual Anti-Life infection." I generate constructs marking lanes. "Staff here,-" I make momentary eye contact with Dr. Quinzel and give her a reassuring smile. "-prisoners who were part of the accelerated release group here, remaining male inmates here and remaining female inmates here."

The last two groups aren't exactly in a hurry to obey, but they gradually move in the direction indicated. But first-.

"In the mean time, Mister and Miss Flinders, might I borrow you for a moment?"

He landed a little more heavily than she did, and consequently looks a little more put out with me. She just looks… Not completely blank, but blanker. Jade can fake facial expressions far better, but I suppose they didn't have exactly the same roles.

Mister Flinders trudges over, with his sister a little behind him. It's an instinctual thing, with him far better able to absorb damage than her it makes sense for him to take the lead and attract attention.

"Let's talk about Kobra." Fortunately, Mr. Burr elected to remain behind, not even deigning to turn away from his back wall when I went to speak with him. "Actually, do I need to get Mister Weiss over here-?"

"No." / "No."

"Very well. As I understand Kobra theology, shouldn't you be cheering right now?"

Miss Flinders gives me a thoughtful look. "Burr was declared a false messiah."

"True, but Lady Eve is still keeping the faith. It doesn't get much more Kali Yuga than this."

"I hope the contract doesn't only work if you believe in it."

And there's Mr. Crock. Alright, he stuck to the back of the male line and isn't that far away, and it's not as if there's anything else to draw attention.

"No, it still works, and Hinduism is perfectly accepting of the idea of hostile demons. But the Kobra variant is accelerationist-." Mr. and Miss Flinders look blank. "You were trying to bring civilisation down faster than would otherwise have been the case in order to minimise the time spent in the Age of Vice and hasten the return of the Age of Righteousness."

Miss Flinders nods cautiously.

"Thus, any evil act is justified because you're not embracing vice for yourself, but rather trying to make civilisation as evil as possible until it collapses. I'm still not completely clear where Jeffrey Burr comes in."

"He was supposed to make it happen, and rule over the new age."

"How? He's as much of a creature of the Age of Vice as the rest of us."

"He… We know he's not now, but he's the one we thought the prophecies were talking about."

"How would you recognise when it's happened?"

Mr. Flinders frowns. "When what's happened?"

"When the Age of Vice has reached maximum decay? Because I can't.. really imagine how life on Earth could get worse than 'Anti-Life is everywhere'. I mean, you felt that, right?"

Miss Flinders nods slowly, her eyes avoiding my face. "So, what? You think this is the Age of Righteousness?"

"No, but can you imagine living in the same way with what you've seen of yourself?" I give them a moment, but neither of them respond. "I think this is the last moment of the Age of Vice, and what comes after we win is the Age of Righteousness. I don't know exactly how we're going to get there either, but I think.. that's what happens. So I totally respect it if you want to die to bring about the next age, but I think there'll be a place for you in it if that's what you want."

Ah, yes. They had a normal cult indoctrination. They know the words, but the theology is a bit beyond them. This is why Scientologists don't tell people about Xenu at the start.

"Just think about it, alright?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
15:24 GMT -5

Former General Eiling looks down at Acting President Adams as the wizards finish their final checks.

"How the Hell did we end up with you in charge?"

Adams' expression is stern, verging contemptuous. I haven't seen him in officer mode before. Even with him being retroactively cleared of wrongdoing, his duties don't actually come with any… Ah, airmen under him in his chain of command. But now he's theoretically in charge of everyone.

"Do we know each other, convict?"

"You want name, rank and serial n-?"

"Eiling." Though, credit to Adams, his face barely twitches. "How the Hell are you still alive?"

"Same way you are. I volunteered for important government work."

"What government work?"

"Something called the Danner Formula. Gives people super strength, but only works in fetuses. They wanted to find a way to make it work on adults." He flexes his arms and chest. "Amazing what a few stem cell injections can do."

Hm. Yes, using foetal stem cells and then injecting them… Could work, if you killed the host's immune system first and they engrafted properly. It would be more likely to give the test subject super-cancer, but I suppose that explains the mutations. Not something I'd want to experiment with…

"So you got a stay of execution."

"So I get to keep working for my country."

"Your country? You were murdering US servicemen and selling weapons to the Viet Cong in the Vietnam War for personal profit, then you tried getting all your co-conspirators killed so you could get away free."

"Personal profit? Heh." Eiling looks down contemptuously. "If it was personal profit I'd have quit the army right after Vietnam and bought a place in Aruba. I wouldn't have bothered sticking around."

"What was it, then?"

"Since you're the 'President' I guess you're clear to know. CIA knew that the Vietnam War was a lost cause. Not enough public support and not enough balls in the White House to fully commit to winning. So they figured, why not sell the Communists weapons, then use that money to fund winnable fights in South America? Have the Communists pay to kill other Communists?" He snorts. "Don't know how successful it was, but that was what I was trying to do."

"And the people you murdered?"

"Shame. But that was the only way to make it happen."

"That's inhuman."

"Oh yeah? You were a pilot. Remind me, how many Cambodian villages did you drop Willy Pete on? You wanna call me a monster because I took orders from a CIA station chief instead of Henry Kissinger?" He leans a little closer. "Grow up, Mister President."

"Get out of my sight."

Eiling.. salutes, and while I'm sure that he means it sarcastically it's as near to textbook as his current physiology allows. Then he steps away and marches towards the cargo lift we're using to take the men to their quarters.

Not sure whether he was lying or not. Kissinger's plan was to lie on official documents by rerouting pilots while they were in the air, and leaving the official target as one in Vietnam. While at this point everyone who knows anything about the era knows that it happened, matching any one pilot to any one bombing run would probably be impossible. Adams wouldn't have known exactly where they were sending him… But again, the fact that the US was moving people to villages they build in 'safe' zones and then bombing anything in the areas they'd cleared, civilian or military, isn't exactly a secret either. I've never bothered to find out exactly what Adams spent the war doing, but if Eiling's telling the truth then he's not wrong about the morality of the situation.

I walk past with a nod, taking my place at the front of the lift.

"Thank you for your cooperation so far. We will now be taking you to your home for the foreseeable future. You will be freely able to leave your own rooms, but the majority of the Tower will be inaccessible unless you're accompanied by an authorised member of staff."

The lift begins to descend.

"While we're not actually going to stop you harming yourselves or others, that will activate your penalty clause outside of a refereed spar or official training session. Doctor Quinzel will still be around to discuss any personal issues you may be having. If you have any strategic or organisational questions, please address them to me or to any member of the Justice League."

"Yeah." Mr. Bailey nods from near the back. Which means that he's low on the prison totem pole. "When's chow time?"

"The Tower produces food by magic, so… Whenever you're hungry, basically. Unless you try eating a whole elephant then it's not really much of a drain on resources."

"Anything?"

"We don't have a circus, so you'll have to make do with really good bread."

"Oh, that's good." Mr. Nygma seems amused by my witticism. "But I'm puzzled as to why it is that you said that you can't see Sportsmaster. I don't think he kept any of his weapons."

Mr. Bailey might be relatively low status, but it's clear from the reactions of the others that Mr. Nygma is an Omega-level outcast. I'd sympathise if he had a slightly lower body count.

"I once told him that if I saw him again I'd kill him. I didn't take this situation into account." I shrug. "I like to think that I'm a man of my word, and I don't mind the extra effort."

"What did he do to make you say that?"

"Oh, I'm his nemesis."

That actually gets a response, as Mr. Crock… Well, the Crock-shaped blur, appears to cross his arms. "Like Hell you are."

"No, no, seriously. Classically, a nemesis is a countervailing force that comes into being in response to the actions of the primary actor. Your harshness and criminality have alienated everyone in your life, while my heroism is why I'm dating your eldest daughter, and have a better relationship than you with your younger daughter, ex-wife, mother, father, brother, nephews and ex-mother-in-law." I smile insolently. "It's a matter of contrast; by existing I repudiate your entire personal philosophy."

Mr. Nygma smiles, either not noticing or not caring about how Mr. Crock's hands clench into fists.

"Imagine that."

"My nemesis on the other hand is some Reach functionary I don't even know the name of who owes me for his current promotion. He already managed to kill me once."

Mr. Crock's face doesn't move much, but there's a little something in his eye.

"That so?"

"Qwa-matter is nasty stuff."

"So to be someone's nemesis, just fighting them isn't enough. You have to create a role for them."

"Going by the classical definition, yes."

"So the Riddler isn't Batman's nemesis, because he didn't have anything to do with getting him started."

"Now wait just a-."

"No, that's the Joker. It was Batman's fight with him when he went out as Red Hood that resulted in him getting a bath in putrefied Smilex. Batman tries to bring stability to Gotham, the Joker attacks stability just because he can."

"So who is Riddler's nemesis?"

"I'm honestly not sure that he has one."

"Hear that, Eddy?" The lift reaches our stop and Mr. Crock strides off into the prisoner residential area. "Aren't you lucky."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
15:37 GMT -5

"Burr?"

I shake my head as Batman's eyes remain fixed on… Looks a little like the globe hologram in X-Com. I'm assuming that one of the wizards set it up in our new command centre.

"Didn't even respond to me."

"And?"

"And he's a lunatic with little to offer us. If you just want canaries I'm sure I can find some who aren't theologically obliged to help Mannheim."

"Thornton?"

"Being helpful. Gaining his knowledge of history and demon magic was an interesting experience, but I don't think I'll be giving him the Fatty treatment."

His eyes dart towards me for a moment, then some sort of update to the globe comes in and he returns his full attention to it.

"You stole his identity."

"Indeed. What news?"

"We've had no contact with Atlantis or Themyscira. Still nothing from Green Arrow, Black Canary or Plastic Man. The entire team made it to the mountain, which seems to be holding the Anti-Life off."

"Any independents?"

"None."

I nod sombrely. "Unsurprising. Where do you want me?"

"Have you been able to contact the Controllers?"

"I.. haven't tried. Do you want me to?"

"Lantern Stewart can't contact the Guardians. I'm concerned that they'll order him to leave."

"No, they won't. They might abandon him here, but Corps regulations won't allow them to order him to abandon his homeworld."

"Are you certain?"

"No, not… Certain. Anti-Life is a bit different to conventional threats, as is Darkseid getting active." Hm. "I suppose the only thing they can really give us is knowledge of other Anti-Life based attacks in their… Records. Which Guy might have anyway. Where is Guy?"

"Norway. They don't have any Alliance presence. He wants to see if he can keep the country functioning."

"Even if he can, it wouldn't be safe for me to try doing the same thing."

"We're well past the point of being safe."

"In that case, do you want to know-?"

"Demonic contract. Can you do any other demon magic?"

"I don't think so. And on the list of things that could actually make this situation worse, one of the few entries is 'more demons'."

"Attempt to contact the Controllers. If you can't, leave Earth until you can. We need anything they can offer."

"Will do."

I leave the operations room, because he's got a war to plan and doesn't need my chatter distracting him. There's a… Sort of vertical garden thing with a tree that glows blue/white rising up through several levels of banistered-off walkway. Vines covered in decorative leaves and flowers are draped over its branches, though I can't see anything growing from the tree itself.

"Orange Lantern to Controller Hinon."

Nothing.

"Ring, are we getting through?"

"Unable to confirm."

"Alright." I walk towards the closest lift and step inside. "Front door, please."

The Tower's intelligence shimmers into being as the lift doors close. It's kept Kent Nelson's appearance, which I honestly appreciate.

"There's still quite a crowd out there."

"I don't have a boom tube generator. Do any of the crowd look like they're capable of fighting me?"

"It's hard to say. This tower would react to magic if they used any, and I can't see any costumes. But not everybody wears those."

"I'm not trying to go through the Dreamstorm again."

The lift dings and the door opens out onto the lobby, which now resembles a castle gatehouse, with bare stone and murder holes. The front door is steel-reinforced oak, though I'm sure that's just a skin for the magic construct that actually guards the entrance. I generate a construct ram that matches its dimensions and get ready to shove.

"Open."

The door swings outward, giving me an immediate view of the sea of people outside. It's not a solid mass; they're spaced out in.. even, curved lines.

And they're all staring at me.

I walk out through the doorway as it opens to ninety degrees, far enough forward that I can shield it as it closes. And they're still staring.

"Can I help you?"

"No." / "No." / "No." / "No." / "No." / "No." / "No."

Dozens of voices, not quite synchronised. Not the whole crowd, though, so it's probably not a hive mind effect. Or a sign of them all being simultaneously controlled by Mannheim. So… Why..?

Because it's their honest answer. They're just people, probably locals, who've been hit by the Anti-Life. They don't believe that I can help them, but they don't know where else… No, they don't have the motivation to go anywhere else.

Puts a rather different spin on things.

"I shall endeavour to prove you wrong. Good day."

I fly upward, until the town of Salem is a blot on the landscape.

"Orange Lantern to Controller Hinon."

Nothing.

Up further, then. Up until I can clearly see the horizon curve.

"Orange Lantern to Controller Hinon."

Nothing.

Up into space, so that the Earth looks peaceful… Would look peaceful, if not for the grey haze my empathic vision shows over the whole of the place.

"Orange Lantern to Controller Hinon."

"What have you done now?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
15:42 GMT -5

"Nice to hear from you, Controller Hinon."

"What. Did. You. Do?

"Summoning the Ophidian into myself caused a group of New Gods to go directly to their secondary objective instead of visiting Mount Justice. This… Indirectly contributed to them being captured and imprisoned on Apokolips. That led to the human who masterminded the Earth-end of the fight being turned into some sort of avatar of Darkseid, and he's just Anti-Lifed the entire planet Earth."

"… Ah."

"Given what's buried in the Earth, that's obviously really bad. The problem is that while I'm familiar with normal Anti-Life broadcasters, there doesn't appear to be any equivalent thing in use at the moment. My current theory is that Mannheim -that's the avatar's original name- has done something clever to use the thaumosphere itself as the broadcast medium."

"What is the current state of your species?"

"It doesn't.. look like the death toll is too high, at the moment. I'd say… There are…" Atlantis has a total population of about twenty million, plus Kahndaq's eighty million... If we assume that their shielding is completely successful… "Let's say a hundred million definitely free, an unknown number at least in the thousands fully Justified and everyone else suffering from something like clinical depression."

"Fleet elements?"

I look around.

"Nothing yet. Since I'm still active I could attack fleet elements myself. I can't do that on the ground due to a lack of targets and the fact that the 'enemy army' are effectively hostages."

"Other New Gods?"

"If you mean 'Apokoliptians', I haven't seen any Elite so far. There's a giant god-robot in Washington but that's about it as far as direct support. Aside from some giant insectoids we've already killed."

I send her an image of my scans of the thing. She nods.

"A last hurrah for the insectoids, and a field test for the robot."

"I don't think it's worth calling in any Lanterns, but-."

"Good, because we can't. Dox has actually been trying to get hold of you."

"Oh? Ah, why?"

"Oh, a combination of factors. Most importantly, the Reach appear to have authorised the deployment of one of their inner circle fleets. Possibly more."

I frown. "We weren't expecting them to do that for.. months. Deploying one of their inner circle fleets when their core isn't threatened is contrary to their Writ. They're religious about following their Writ."

"It appears that your Reach-shadow has decided that it made them too predictable. We don't have a copy of their Writ that we could trust to be completely accurate. It may well be that there are exceptions that we don't know about."

"Can we.. cope with it?"

"Dox's estimates say 'yes', but we will take considerable damage doing so, and it will undermine the confidence of our affiliates. If they deploy a second fleet, we won't. Maltus will survive, but that will be all."

"Their inner circle fleets aren't unlimited. There are reasons why they don't deploy those."

"Yes, it appears that for some reason they don't think that Apokolips will take advantage of their distraction to remove them as competition. And of course other galactic powers are content to let us take our swing at them without offering aid."

"And we can't take a strike force past their lines while their rear is less defended?"

"That's part of why Dox is so eager to get you back. Or, he's ordering you back, I should say."

Darn. Objectively, that's the right choice. Five billion or so on Earth versus hundreds of billions who've thrown their lot in with the organisation I created explicitly to fight this war.

But…

"Am I needed right away?"

"That depends on what you consider to be the limits of 'needed'."

"Are the Reach about to capture any inhabited world?"

"Not… Immediately. I would say that you have approximately two Earth days until that world where you saved the young of their entire species is returned to Reach control."

"So realistically I've got about a day."

"Every moment you delay is a moment where our allies die unnecessarily, but if 'people I actually know getting hurt' is your definition of 'needed', then yes."

"I need all data we have on the Anti-Life. All the records. Everything on Darkseid, including anything we've 'acquired' from the Guardians and Green Lanterns. Because actually, due to… A certain thing being stored here, it actually might be worse if Earth falls than if Maltus falls."

She considers, but she knows that I'm right.

"Are they actually looking for it?"

"Not as far as I've seen. And we've got a man with a direct-ish line to it and he hasn't noticed anything."

"Then the simplest solution would be to move it."

"Are Maltusians immune to the Anti-Life Equation?"

She hesitates before responding.

"Not… Entirely."

"Given how powerful your species are, and how you're ageless, I don't think that exposing any of you is a good idea."

"You will have our data. And I will hold my nose and reach out to our cousins. Will your people survive?"

"If we can work out what we're supposed to be hitting, sure. This might well cause the final collapse of our current social order and I might still end up evacuating the planet, if only temporarily. But I believe that we'll win in the end."

"One day, Illustres. Do what you can for the humans."

"One more thing. Do we know where any of the other Central Power Batteries or Light Fountains are?"

"I'm not aware of any besides Orange and Green even existing. Unless the Zamarons have finally found something to act as the core of their Violet Central Power Battery. I will check in with them as well. What are you planning?"

"Using the White Light to purge the Earth's thaumosphere."

She thinks for a moment.

"We were never able to firmly determine the White Light's limits. It was too alien to our mindset, even in those days. And we had no contemporary contact with the Anti-Life Equation at all. I will not veto your attempt, but I strongly suggest that you be mindful of your more immediate problems."

I nod.

"Then I will expect you tomorrow. Relaying data now."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
16:13 GMT -5

"Riddle me this."

Mr. Nygma doesn't turn around from his monitors.

"When is a contract not a contract?"

"I don't know the answer you want, but I can think of several logically consistent answers. For example, 'when it's upside down', because 'it's' can mean either 'it has the property of' or 'it is only'. Alternately, I could treat the first 'contract' as a document and the second as a legally binding agreement, in which case 'when no one signs it' would be an answer."

In the reflection on the screen I can see him sneer. "You're so basic. This is why I fight Batman."

"Because Batman would work out what answer you want, then use that to beat you. I freely accept that I'm not as intelligent as Batman or as you. On the other hand, I can achieve a similar level of success by brute forcing the actual solution. I read a book a few years ago called Un Lun Dun, where the heroine wasn't the prophesised saviour but decided to have a crack at saving the day after the heroine got taken out. Initially, she tried to follow the prophecy, but after one of her friends was killed she stopped, worked out what bits of it she actually needed to complete her objective and did those instead. Batman would try to understand your thought processes, I'd just say 'ring, scan'."

"I was in your class."

"You taught classes because it massaged your ego. The rest of them were there to learn things and maybe reform. Which is why your signature is on a contract and theirs aren't. And yes, it works whether you sign your own name or not, Theophilus Carter."

"Batman would have worked out that I was going to do that."

"While I just monitored everyone with my rings. I've already admitted that you're more intelligent than me. You really don't need to convince me."

"Oh, I know that I'm more intelligent than you. But the honest truth is, I think Captain Cold is as well."

"Possibly. I've never invented a device capable of reducing a target to zero degrees kelvin."

"Oh, that's clever. But it's not that."

"Okay, what is it? Is it-?"

"He reinvented the wheel, Orange Lantern. He knew next to nothing about physics notation so he invented his own. Have you ever tried doing base nine maths?"

"I once very briefly tried doing base thirteen maths."

"Base thirteen-. Hitchhiker's Guide, where Douglas Adams didn't write a joke in base thirteen. How much do you think doing everything in base ten limits our thinking?"

"Not at all. I have data on thousands of cultures who do maths in various ways, and there's no real correlation between base and development speed."

"I didn't ask 'does it limit people'. I asked how it 'limits our thinking'."

"I don't know." … "You taught yourself to do base eight maths, didn't you?"

"Please. I can think in any base."

"Including tw-"

"Two and a half, yes."

"-o and-. Probability, or did you know I was going to say that?"

"It's a riddle."

"I can see your face in the reflection, you can probably see mine. Between the shape of my mouth and the starting sound, guessing 'two' isn't hard. Half is quicker to say than 'quarter'. Though I should warn you that a lecturer once asked what came next in the sequence 'one, two, four, eight', and I said 'seventy seven'."

"Were you right?"

"I wasn't wrong. The pattern was 'each new number is bigger than the one before'. It was supposed to teach us that most people assume things and won't try and falsify their assumptions. Most people guess 'sixteen' and then stop."

"But not you."

"But not me. I think I was the only one in the entire lecture theatre who actually did the required reading, which explained the whole thing."

"I suppose that knowing when to mindlessly obey is a skill in itself."

"Mister Nygma, could you please explain something to me?"

"Probably."

"You've read your own psychological profile, both the Arkham one and the Belle Reve one."

"Quinzel has a second class mind at best."

"I doubt that she's got your IQ, but she does want to help you get better. And as far as I can tell, you don't."

I start to pace a little, and I can see the reflection of his eyes following me.

"Your father's dead. Everyone who knows you acknowledges that you're a very intelligent man. Crock isn't up here, looking at this. And neither are Leonard or Tuttle, and you know how much I respect their work. Batman wouldn't have put you here if he thought that he could work it out without you, so… Riddle me this: why is the Riddler?"

"That's even easier than your lecture hall answer. My 'neuroatypicality' isn't that I like riddles. If you want that, you should go and talk to Cluemaster. It's my compulsion to tell the truth when I misbehave. It's why I'm talking to you now rather than just ignoring you; I can't… Not. The reason that I got sent to Belle Reve and not Arkham is that I'm not legally 'insane'. I know perfectly well what good and evil are, otherwise I wouldn't be compelled to leave confessional riddles around when I do evil."

"But you… Do it for validation, right? I was sort of hoping that I could provide you with intellectually challenging problems for the rest of your life and you'd abandon the whole 'Riddler' thing."

"Not until I beat the Batman."

"Would..? Working out how to fix this mess count?"

"I don't know yet. Probably not. He wants me to do this."

"You're using him as a stand-in for your father?"

"Yes, I realised that years ago. And I don't like it because I hate the idea that an ignoramus like him had such a major effect on my life."

"You know… Doctor Quinzel does.. actually want to help. And you just said that you want to change. I don't have to be as intelligent as you to see an opportunity here."

"Then you should have thought of that before you embarrassed me in front of my peers. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
16:26 GMT -5

Dr. Quinzel doesn't look up when I sit down next to her. She's staring out of the library window into the Dreamstorm, which is swirling every bit as hard as it was when my party and I went through it.

"Doctor Quinzel. How are you doing?"

"Y'c'n call me Harleen, yah know."

"I like 'Quinzel'. It's a combination of syllables where the softness of 'Quin' compliments the hardness of 'zel', no one part outstaying its welcome. I can't think of another word quite like it. Whereas 'Harleen' has those two long vowel sounds, like... 'Balloon', or something. Of the two, I think 'Quinzel' is definitely better."

She makes a very small smile, glancing my way for a moment before resuming her vigil.

"I ain't nevah thwort of it like that befowah."

"Of course not. You hear it a lot. As far as you're concerned it's a perfectly normal name."

"How 'bowt you?"

"It's three syllables and has a similar mouth-feel to 'Halloween'. Only the double 'E' is an 'I'."

"I mean… Awla this."

"I wasn't ready. But for some reason the Anti-Life isn't affecting me. For me this is a.. setback, but I have every confidence that we'll pull through in the end."

"Y'gawt anyone not inside'a here?"

"Jade's on the other side of the galaxy, so she's fine. A.. part from the huge Reach war fleet heading her way. But her mother and a few friends of mine are out there. You?"

"Niece an' nephew. Little kids. A few friends from college I get togevah with a few times a year." She swings her legs under her seat. "Guess y'can't rilly pick 'em up before ev'ryone else."

"It's a novel situation. We don't know what we need to prioritise, or even… Whether it might be better to evacuate the planet."

She turns her head to look at me with a sniff, her eyes wide and slightly watering.

"Can th' League do that?"

"Lanterns can move a lot of people quickly. We'd need somewhere to go, but Tamaran's coming along nicely and they've got plenty of space. Heck, given how low their population is, a few million temporary guest workers would probably be quite useful. It would… Certainly be easier to do that than attacking things we don't know about in places we can't locate, though that's where we are so far when it comes to actually resolving this conflict."

"What's happ'nin' right now?"

"Right now Batman and the League's other experts are trying to put together a plan of attack. Which… Isn't really something I can help with, hence why I'm here. I-." My ring blinks. "Yes?"

Alan's face. "Paul, we need you to head over to Norway. Looks like that robot they had in Washington isn't happy staying put. We need to know if it's possible to keep countries working by getting rid of Alliance infrastructure."

"Rightoh. I'll send you a message once I get there."

"Good luck. We all need it."

I close my left fist, ending the call, then rise to my feet.

"Excuse me."

"Yeyeh." She gets up, wiping her eyes. "I should get back ta werk, too."

"Doctor Quinzel, you got Anti-Lifed, the same as everyone else." I put my right hand on her left shoulder. "If you want to talk, just come and find me, alright?"

She nods awkwardly, mental defences going back up. Unlike Selinda, Dr. Quinzel actually is good at feigning a positive attitude.

"I'll see you when I get back." I walk towards the balcony, pushing open the bay windows so that I'm on the exterior of the Tower. "Orange Lantern to Mister Miracle. Tube to the North Sea, please."

BOOM!

I fly through, noting-

31st December 2012
22:29 GMT +1

-that there aren't a lot of planes in the air. Modern planes are mostly flown by machine, a process that was accelerated after Klarion's mass child murder because everyone remembers the recordings of the plane crashes and terrifying death plummets after the merger. In theory, once the alert goes out, every plane should head for the nearest landing field and land. But the simple artificial intelligence system can't do everything the air traffic controllers do. It can put the planes on the runway, but it hasn't tested all that well with large numbers of planes because it can't taxi them out of the way in most places.

"Orange Lantern to Lantern Gardner."

Norway looks like… Norway, with a very faint green glow in the air. I haven't really had any cause to come-. Here. Since last time I spoke to Jon Haraldson. No idea if the Einherjar are affected by the Anti-Life.

"'sup?"

"Alan says you need a hand. You've got me, for up to twenty three hours."

"What happens then?"

"I get recalled to Maltus to deal with a major Reach offensive."

"'kay. That robot can open boom toobs. It's droppin' off squads a' Justifiers wherever it goes. Just hangs around long enough ta' wreck any actual soldiers or police."

"The Justifiers?"

"Dunno what they've lookin' fer. They've stuck helmets on a few people, but they don't got enough fer everyone."

"I assume that the robot's powerful?"

"Tough, strong, firepower an' it can boom tube you whenever it feels like it. On yer six."

I look around as the green glow approaches me from behind.

"I don' wanna risk gettin' their air force involved, so we're gunna hav' ta fight it smarter."

"Haraldson?"

"Haven't seen 'im."

"Lead on, then. I'm sure at least some of my ammunition types will work."

He nods, then accelerates over the coast, heading inland, and I follow an instant later.

"Ice?"

"Trapping Justified guys. Her family 're battening down the hatches, so-. There."

It's standing in the sea off the coast of Bergen, Justifiers marching out of a boom tube into the streets.

"I'll get in his face, you cover me."

"Not a problem." I switch to the power armour I made that actually has weapons on it. "Just say when."

Guy generates a construct around him that resembles a 19th century train-

"When."

-and charges forward!

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
22:30 GMT +1

"Choo choo, muthaf-"

The robot turns its head towards Guy and raises its right hand, a-

BOOM!

-boom tube appearing directly in front of him.

"Graviton deflator. And message Alan."

"Compliance."

And then immediately collapsing as the gravitational anomaly which allows space to be torn asunder in that way collapses. There'll be a small amount of alpha and x-ray radiation released, but not enough to harm anyone who isn't right next to it and Guy's protected by his construct.

Dox will be pleased that his work on the subject came in handy.

"-aka!"

Guy's construct slams into the robot, smashing its right arm into its chest and sending it staggering back a step. But just one step, and Guy's full force constructs are no joke. Inside the train Guy drifts towards the rear while continuing to pour on the power, but it's not working. The robot's recovered-

I send filaments under the road surface and replace the road surface with a frictionless construct.

-but fails to adjust to the sudden change. It slips backwards, falling-. Falling from ninety to eighty degrees before 'catching' itself on the air and righting itself. Red beams flash from its eyes and slice through Guy's construct, reducing it to green mist. Guy's already out, dropping down to swing a hammer construct at its crotch.

The robot blurs back out of hammer range, causing Guy to miss.

Railgun. Target the eyes.

Compliance.

The robot raises its left hand, red energy coalescing in its palm for a moment before arcing at Guy. Guy generates a shield construct, which the red… Plasma? Lightning? Eats through rapidly. But Guy's fine with that, shoving his shield forward and creating more shield at the back.

Come-

The robot's eyes glow red.

-onfire.

The crumbler round screeches through the air at a far higher speed than I usually use. I'm not trying to keep the evil god-robot intact, after all. The red glow in its eyes brightens a little as Guy's ablative shield starts to get ablated faster than he can restore it, then the crumbler round hits. There's a sort of… Pulse of red, radiating out for a moment from the point of impact. Then the glow dims, the beam from its hand cuts out and its head turns in my direction.

Looks like I mildly abraded its paintwork. I can still see the faint default glow of its-

BOOM!

-eyesdodge!

The swirling grey portal appears above me, next to where I was a fraction of a second ago. Even as I pull away I can feel a strange pull that I haven't felt from other boom tubes. But I suppose that those were travel tubes, rather than any kind of weapon.

I trigger the graviton deflator again and the tube aperture collapses.

CLANK!

While the robot was focusing on me, Guy dropped his shield construct in favour of his hammer and swung, hitting the robot on the side of its right knee. There's a slight shimmer, and I note with a small smile that he added a crumbler effect to it. The robot doesn't appear to be impaired, but in a situation like this we're pretty much reduced to hammering at it until something gives.

Looks like crumblers don't do a whole lot. Dox might have tried getting hold of radion weapons to fight Grayven, but none of them have made their way to me. Next on the list…

Bullets plink off my environmental shield as a group of Justifiers jog into position in a nearby street. They're basically incapable of harming-

"Anti-Life justifies their actions." Inalienable Truth.

-meagh!

Fly! Fly!

Those bullets just punched through my construct armour, environmental shield, kinetic barrier and actual armour! I'm-.

Ow.

The bullets… In my body, looks like they're normal. I pull them out of my body and knit my flesh back together.

"…okay?!"

"Yeah! Fine! Bullets-"

The squad of Justifiers fire another volley, so I try blocking with a girder I put in subspace for blocking the omega beams. That… Appears to work. Don't know why.

"-go through everything!"

"Anti-Life justifies their actions." Inalienable Truth.

Another volley, and this one punches through the girder, but none of it hits me. No reason to suppose that the Justifiers were trained soldiers before their brains were annexed.

"I got the robot, deal with-!"

The robot swings its left fist, smashing through his construct shield and sending him flying into a building!

Okay, Justifier helmets cover the mouth and nose. I don't know for certain that they have their own air supply, so I'll drop knock-out gas on them on the off-chance. They can't fly so they can't punch me up here, so if I grab their guns with construct hands-.

Oh. That worked. Quick scan… No, it's N.A.T.O. standard, no special modifications here.

Bang!

What?

Bang! Bang! Bang! B-!

I grab the pistol out of the last surviving Justifier's hand before he can shoot himself in the head like his squad mates did. He charges after it, frantically grabbing at it!

"To fail Mannheim is to lose all worth! I cannot bear his eyes upon me! I long for-!"

Construct straight jacket, construct manacles, x-ionised blades to cut at the-.

They fail to breach the helmet's armour. Okay, crumbler? No, no, not going through and I'm worried that they'd kill the Justifier if I increased the power. Ugh, have to risk-. Cover the x-ionised blade in an environmental shield and drain and cut.

Okay, that's working, go faster. Cut around the faceplate, can't feel any straps, and pull! And it's off. Don't recognise the man, but that's hardly a surprise. He doesn't seem to be snapping out of it, but he's still being exposed to the background Anti-Life.

"Anti-Life justifies their actions." Inalienable Truth.

I'm viffing the moment I hear the voice, bullets peppering the position I was occupying as squads of Justifiers run towards us from all directions. I can-.

"AGH!"

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
22:31 GMT +1

Guy's hit. Doesn't look critical, but he can't regenerate in the way that I can. One hand on his abdomen, he flies around a building to get out of the Justifiers' line of sight while I throw out a volley of weighted chain constructs. Each one strikes a Justifier hard in the chest, and I hear bones snapping as they're thrown backwards. Because they can harm us but not survive us hitting them, because Mannseid doesn't value their lives outside of their immediate utility. Disarm them and they kill themselves. Cripple them outright and they'll probably do the same. Injure them-.

The Justifiers now dealing with a chest full of broken ribs shakily get back to their feet. Because they're not reacting to pain. They're still injured and they can't just ignore the physical impairment. They're struggling to breathe and that will reduce their athleticism, but ribs aren't essential in the short term.

BOOM!

I counter with a graviton deflator without really thinking about it, my railgun shooting the robot in the eyes a moment later as it tries to use the omega beams again.

Okay, its mouth isn't moving but I'm pretty sure that it's the source of the voice that keeps-.

Bullets plink off my armour, but these ones aren't augmented and pose no threat. Weighted chain constructs fly out again this time targetting right arms. More snaps, but this time they lose the ability to hold their guns properly. But they can still hold them, so…

Yes, they're shooting but their accuracy is abysmal. Some draw their handguns and shoot those with their left hand, but the lower rate of fire and lower accuracy mean that I'm not too concerned.

"Guy?!"

The robot drifts down a nearby street in pursuit of Guy. Let's try… Positron beam to the back of the head. Construct ready, firing. Impact… A flare of light, but none of it from the robot's armour. Some sort of force field. I'm not detecting one, but it could well be magic.

"You dead?!"

"Show you who's-"

A fat beam of green light slams into the robot's chest, prompting it to bring its arms up to its chest to shield itself.

"-dead!"

Guy rises above the surrounding buildings, ring glowing brilliantly as he continues to blast the robot. I'm not seeing any damage-.

If my draining abilities weakened the Justifiers' helmets, I could give it a go against this thing? Can't hurt more than failing to kill it.

I take a purple healing ray out of subspace and shoot Guy with it as he keeps pushing the robot back. Okay, x-ionised knives at the ready, fly at the left leg-

"Anti-Life justifies their actions." Inalienable Truth.

-and weave around the shots by tracking possible trajectories and evading them as the crippled Justifiers try to draw a bead on me. One handed pistol shots aren't that accurate anyway. Robot looks like it's focusing on Guy, trying to get its right arm up to take a shot but can't in the face of the waves of green energy. Close enough and stab and drain-.

It's irrelevant. The thoughts and designs of the one who exists as the totality of the universe binds and enthrals me, with my knowledge or without it. To raise a hand against his creation is to-.

I'm flying backwards through the air, green bonds wrapped around my-.

"Okay okay! I'm good-."

Guy glances down at me as I stabilise myself in the air.

"The hell was that abowt?!"

"I tried draining it."

The robot is facing us, but it's on the ground. It tries taking a step closer but its left leg doesn't respond and I can see the cuts I made before being overcome.

"It worked on the helmets, but that thing's channelling… Or.. broadcasting, Anti-Life. I got it right in the brain."

"And you're just okay now?"

"Um. I think so. Ring?"

"Thought processes align to behavioural baselines."

"So stabbing it's a no-go?"

"Stabbing has certain risks, but if it's the-."

"Die for Mannheim." Life Is Fuel.

The robot's wound glows unearthly red as the Justifiers fall to the ground, convulsing-

"Huh?"

-and shrivelling up and sinking in on themselves. A moment later all that's left is clothing, their helmet and... Dust.

How is-? No, the one I dehelmeted is fine… Not drained, anyway. But-.

"Move!"

I fly an evasive pattern as the robot raises both hands, the damage undone and its flight systems restored, red light-.

"No you fucking-"

Railgun, target the hand with… mage slayer, but…

I pour orange light into the thaumovoric systems of the mage slayer round, needing it to consume what it touches. Then as the robot fires its right hand at me-

"-don't!"

-as Guy slams some sort of… Box construct over its right. I jerk sideways as Guy actually manages to contain the blast this time, the shot aimed at me scything through the houses behind me even as my railgun fires at its face. It hits home a fraction of a second later, and-. And it worked! The robot's left eye blinks off and on and the beam from its left hand goes out. Alright, I've got more of those, I can-

BOOM!

Can't see where it is. Not around us, at least.

Mage slayer, charge it. Let's see if I can hit something more vital this-

"Die for Mannheim." Life Is Fuel.

-time. Okay, I can't see any more Justifiers-. The boom tube, it brought them in out of line of sight. Darn it.

Red veins spread around its head, then its eye lights up as I rise above the rooftops and-. There! Graviton deflator! X-ionised knives and slice! I don't know if I can save their lives but I should be able-.

I watch them collapse into dust piles.

I can't save their lives.

Okay. Stay higher. They can't bring in heavy anti-air, and they'll need a head shot to kill me while the robot's defence-bypass power is active. That's manageable.

I fly upwards and towards the robot, which now has black veins running through the red-

The eyes light up and I fire a crumbler round at each one, Guy looking visibly relieved as lights flicker and dull.

-glowing parts. Not sure what that's ab-.

BANG!

Aeroplanes roar past as missiles explode all around me!

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
22:32 GMT +1

"They have planes! Ring?"

The ring shows me an image of the cockpit in my mind's eye. Helmet. Plane's an F-35 Lightning with marking for the Royal Norwegian Air Force. Bit strange there's-

BANG! BANG!

-just.. one. Alright, what do I do about them? If I remember correctly, Norway is dithering about the direction of their defence procurement so these planes shouldn't have anything super advanced. Neither air-to-air missiles or cannons are going to do much to me, and since the area below has been evacuated shrapnel and falling bullets aren't a concern. I just need to down the planes before the robot gets free and uses its bypass power.

BOOM!

Graviton deflator.

"No shit! Y'got em?"

"In progress."

Downing a plane when you have a power ring is very easy. Downing a plane when you have a power ring and want whoever's in the plane to survive is fairly straight forward. Downing a plane when you have a power ring and want whoever's in the plane to survive without the wreckage setting the city on fire when the pilot will try to ram you in preference to ejecting is a little trickier.

Firstly, I fly out towards the sea. It will take me a little longer to support Guy, but-

BOOM!

Graviton deflator.

-I can still deal with the core parts of the job.

First plane banking to make its second run. Force beam projector off to the side. Slice through the neck of the plane, just behind the cockpit. Kinetic absorption field for the cockpit, trajectory of the body of the plane heading out to sea… Tumbling, but it's still not going to hit anything. Ignore. X-ionised knives slice into the cockpit, pilot reaching for-. Flare gun? Disarm, slice and drain. Helmet off, dump cockpit in the ocean, drop pilot on a bench by the-

"Anti-Life justifies their actions." Inalienable Truth.

-shore. Great, laser point defence constructs-.

Missiles fly towards me to be met by laser beams, punching through their flimsy outer casing and prematurely detonating their explosive-

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!

-load and I yank myself around as most of the cannon rounds miss, agh, and I've been meaning to redo that hip anyway. Check line of fire on the second, reposition-

"One plane down, two left. You still there?"

"You used crumblers on the eyes, right?"

"Yes."

Plane starts turning move. Decapitate, kinetic absorption field-. Body of plane heading for-. The shoreline, and there are still people in that area. Ring, phone them and tell them to move. Construct cockpit to stabilise flight path, send it into the sea. Cut through the pilot's helmet, toss the cockpit and land the pilot. Last plane is-.

"Guy, evade!"

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!

This one just gets an energy pulse because I need it to stop shooting more than I need anything else. The main body to the plane shatters, fuel tanks spraying and fuel igniting a moment later! Trigger the ejection system, kinetic-

BOOM!

-absorption field-

Graviton deflator.

-to catch most of the wreckage which hasn't exploded yet because the fuel isn't being contained but is burning nicely. Thrown it into the sea, catch the-

"Guy? Third plane down."

-seat, cut and drain through the helmet, drop off the pilot. No further planes here-

"Okaygreat."

-yet and I'm fully healed.

"Status?"

"Gone to ground, bleedin' like a pig."

I turn and fly back towards the… They've moved, tracking… There. Purple-

"Anti-Life justifies my actions." Inalienable Truth.

-healing-.

Red lightning scythes through the city as Guy frantically evades, boring a hole in the ground to duck under it and then weaving around as the red seems to.. drip down. I fire a volley of crumblers at the robot but some sort of… Barrier? Appears in the air and detonates them prematurely. Not a barrier, then. Just ionising the air would probably work, not to mention whatever New God technology that thing has.

Okay, clever dick. Crumbler shell.

In Harry Turtledove's WorldWar series, a German artillery detachment was able to bombard a Race landing zone and destroy several of their landing ships. The landing zone had point defences, but they were lasers designed to destroy incoming missiles and did absolutely nothing to heavy metal artillery shells other than mildly discolour the casing.

Most of my crumbler rounds aren't well armoured, because it's usually superfluous. That doesn't mean that I can't make armoured rounds.

Bit of tungsten, easy to crumble but capable of protecting the mechanism, aim and fire!

The round streaks through the air, and-. Gets about a metre further through the shielded area before being triggered.

Okay, cold gun. Absolute zero. Aim at the neck and fire.

Ice precipitates out of the air as the beam hits home, ice coating the area around-. Darn it, it's blocking this as well.

Fine. Construct battering ram go!

The construct shoots through the air, pushes past the robot's defences with no more than mild abrasions to show for it and then hits the robot directly in the neck hard. It staggers, some sort of energy I don't immediately recognise flickering and flaring around the impact site as its red energy lash cuts out and Guy gets a moment's respite.

Actually-.

I release Colin Thornton from my ring and attach filaments from the crumbler ram to him.

"Drain."

Lights on the robot flicker once more but this time there's no platoon of Justifiers for it to kill to heal itself. This time-.

"Cease." Final Stage of Existence.

This time my ring turns off and Colin fades away as the robot flies up to confront me.

 

[Mr Zoat]

31st December 2012
22:34 GMT +1

Yesterday, that would have been a sound move. But right now Guy's down to that stupid Halla pistol and a personal force field while I've actually got some reasonable fire power. No way to stop a boom tube, but if it-

The robot raises its hands, red glow slowly coalescing in its palms.

-actually attacks-.

"Plot flight path, engage."

My armour accelerates, crumbler gauntlets going live as I fly arms-first into its right palm! It-. Ah! That's what happened! It loses containment immediately, the effect feeding back into wherever it's getting this energy from. My armour gets… Ah, not used to reading these alerts, a little abraded, which suggest that the red stuff needs to be fully 'shaped' in order to have the maximum effect.

And now I'm past the robot, its now limp hand knocked aside and noticeably not building up the red stuff. The robot turns slowly around to face me, shielding its still-glowing right hand with the mass of its body as it does so. Unfortunately for it, I still had the design for the smart missile system I designed for Artemis a few years ago in my database and stuck a slightly repurposed version on this armour when I gave it firepower. And since whatever shield it had a minute ago doesn't seem to be working now…

"Fire volley one."

The ejection system vomits twelve missiles directly upwards in rapid succession, sending them arcing up over the robot. At the apex of their curve the cases pop open, submunitions deploying, simple guidance systems networking with my armour's computers and aiming themselves down before activating their boosters. The robot raises its right hand just a little too slowly, the blast of red energy hitting the oncoming swarm only after they spread out from their initial cluster. The rest strike home, destabilising the red energy around the right hand-

There's a small burst of energy as something inside it overloads and the hand goes slack.

-and hitting the face on the off chance that it was planning on using omega beams. No, looks like it wasn't, but the face is more than a little abraded.

My armour's scanners show no Justifiers in the area, and if something's happened to its boom tube system then it can't call more-

Space around its chest twists, the robot appearing to bend into a spiral for a moment before vanishing.

-in.

My rings light back up-.

"Find Guy."

I get a response and fly, coming to a halt just above him as he awkwardly plays a purple healing ray over his wounds, an empty vial of healing potion on the ground next to him.

"Robot retreated. Need a hand?"

"Nah, I'm-. Nearly good."

"Healing ray's not great on complex internal injuries." I deploy a healing tube flask of my own and offer it to him. "Here."

"Thanks."

He takes it with his left hand, screws the cap and downs it.

"You got all the bullet fragments out, right? Because-."

He nods his head towards a small pile of brass next to him.

"How long 'till it comes back?"

"Don't know. Given the way it was healing, it could be back in seconds if it can find some Justifiers to drain to death."

He makes an expression of distaste. "Yeah. Spotted that. Y'got any idea how?"

"It's higher up the hierarchy than they are. Their lives are lived to serve it. We're basically surrounded by a high-end spell right now, so there's a worldwide conductive medium."

He stands, poking his former wounds with his right hand to make sure they're gone.

"We can use that, right?"

"Bloody hope so. What was that you did to its hand?"

"Old technique. Supposed to stop th' universe changin' if you've got the will for it. Think I nearly did." He thinks for a moment. "You sure we can't use th' embodiments?"

"'Sure'? No. 'Willing to risk it'..?"

"Yeah, I getcha." He generates a phone construct and holds it to his right ear. "Hey babe. Yeah, it's gone. Ah…Think so. I'll check, but-."

He makes eye contact with me.

"You got those pilots, right?"

"Lined up on a bench on the shore."

"Right. You get that? No, just one. They shot themselves when they were disabled. Yeah, we'll-. 'kay. I love you. No no, that ain't-. I jus' wanna say it, y'know? 'cause I do. Okay. Bye."

"Are you affected by the Anti-Life broadcast?"

He nods. "Yeah. Kinda? I mean, I hear it, an' it makes me think abowd stuff I don't wanna, but it ain't stoppin' me. You?"

"I heard the robot, but apart from that?" I shake my head. "If it wasn't for everyone else reacting I wouldn't even know it was happening. I thought it was the enlightenment, but if you're still affected that can't be it."

"Yeah. Weird." He brings his right hand up to his chest, laying his left hand over it. "This is gunna feel a little weird."

"What else is new?"

He glows for a moment, not particularly bright but certainly intense. Then a wave of green shoots out in all directions and I feel confident, certain, ready to take on a legion of those robots and smash them to pieces.

"Yeah." His eyes are glowing green. "I ain't no Ion, but I'll do fer now." He rises into the air. "I need ta hit th' airbase. You okay tawkin' with th' prisoners?"

Tracking… The Justifier I freed is now on his feet and sort of wandering around. The pilots on the bench are staying where they were with their heads in their hands. "Can do."

He takes off at speed, heading inland. Right, now to-.

"L-lantern! Lantern!"

I fly over to the liberated Justifier as he waves-.

"Mister Wasem?"

Recruiter for the Gotham branch of the Congregation. I've spoken to him a couple of times…

"Oh God, Oh God. I…" His right hand clasps the side of his face. "What happened to me?"

"Anti-Life. The Alliance was a cover for an alien take-over. Talk to me. What happened? Tell me everything."

 

[Mr Zoat]

30th October 1998
17:57 GMT -7

I shake my head. "I don't agree with that at all."

The young woman opposite me glares. "But it is the original sin. How can you know of it and yet not believe that it is a sin?"

"Alright." I lean back slightly. "Was Adam and Eve's nudity in the Garden of Eden sinful?"

"No, because they had no concept of shame or lust."

"Did they have a concept of property?"

She thinks for a moment. "No."

"Vice in general?"

"No, that came when they ate the apple."

"So when they ate the apple, as they put the apple in their mouths, they had no concept of theft, deceit or guilt. They had no concept that the serpent could have anything other than honest intentions. They were, in effect, children. Mentally speaking. It wasn't until after they ate the apple that they gained that capacity: to lie, to feel lust or shame or anything else. Before they were innocent, afterwards they weren't. But if you're innocent, you can't sin. It would be like a… A parrot, flying through a nuclear silo and pecking the launch button. It's got no idea what could happen as a result, it just thinks 'shiny, peck'. Would you assign moral blame to the parrot?"

"Adam and Eve were not birds. They were people."

"They were pre-apple people. Mental children with no concept of… Anything they weren't built with. It's not until after they ate the apple that they became capable of moral understanding, became… Adults, in anything other than the biological sense. The apple gave them knowledge of good and evil. How can they have done evil before they gained the capacity to understand good or evil?"

She blinks, though she doesn't immediately refuse my supposition.

"That said, I regard eating the apple as the correct thing to do. Who wants to remain a child forever?"

"A child. And they are not wrong to want to be children."

"Children are children rather than gnomes because they go on to become adults, with all that that entails. Adults, we children of the apple, have a more full understanding of the world-. And that's something else. If God created all animals, that included the serpent. If God is all-knowing, then God knew what would happen, and if God is all-powerful, then God could have prevented it. God chose not to, and despite the fact that he was dealing with simpletons acted like the blame lay with them."

That… Appears to meet with favour. For some reason.

"Of course, that doesn't negate human agency, we simply have to recognise that we're acting with finite knowledge and sometimes the consequences of our actions aren't quite what we intended."

"I suppose that you have a point. Then what justifies sending someone to Hell, if God sets up everyone to fail?"

"Nothing." She blinks. "There is no reason to send anyone to Hell ever. Eternal punishment is pure sadism. And if some depictions of God are accurate, pure narcissism."

"There are people who deserve it."

"No. There are people who deserve a great deal of punishment, but if death isn't the end and the soul is eternal… What's the benefit to it? Once they're dead, they can't harm anyone else, so there's no argument for protecting anyone else. After a hundred years of suffering…" I shake my head. "Anyone's going to agree to anything. They're not going to learn anything from that. Heck, they probably wouldn't even know why they're in Hell. And even if they learn why they're there and reform, they can't get out."

"Reform?"

"Sure, because this whole thing is premised on there being an all-knowing God. That rather than being limited to trying to know one another's mind by observing behaviour like humans do, there's a being who can just know. It-."

Across the student bar, I see Detective Stone walk in. He looks agitated.

"And on an unrelated note, did you know that Hell is far less radioactive than Earth?"

Gwendolyn DuBare, my drinking companion, frowns. "What?"

"Less radioactive. So someone who escaped from there would have less radiological material in them than someone who grew up in this-" I feel the wave of heat pass over me as the air around her hands shimmers. "-nuclear age. Now, I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help. He, on-"

I stand, interposing myself between her and Stone as he strides in our direction.

"-the other hand, isn't here to help."

Stone recognises me, his expression… Stony. He's not drawing his gun, so it looks like he'd learned from our last encounter.

"Step aside and let me do my job."

"Detective, I know good and evil and the difference between them. I will not voluntarily send anyone to eternal punishment, as that would be an evil deed. Her or you."

I still don't know why the Detective went to Hell. I mean, I could guess any number of things that the NYPD wouldn't put in their databases, but none of that really chimes with his excellent record.

Gwendolyn's on her feet, and she's moving to get a clear shot-.

I raise my right hand to motion her to get back. "Please, let me handle this."

"He's here to send me back?"

"If I don't, they'll just send someone else."

He's right. The sort of person who would create Hell isn't going to care about its residents. One or another, no one wants to be there and I doubt it takes long for every single one to get to the point where they'll agree to anything to get out. And I can only protect one person, and I picked up dozens of others in the Los Angeles area alone.

"And someone's checking up on you?" He nods. "Detective, you're a descendant of people who ate the apple of Eden. You are a moral agent in your own right, not just a.. weapon for whatever demon sent you here."

"They're not exactly sending me after good people."

"Every one of those bastard rapists deserved it!"

It only lasts a moment, but Stone cringes as she says 'rapist'. Okay, he's emoting, but what can I-?

"Ah. I have it. Detective, during your career with the New York Police Department, did you ever have a case where FBI agents started arguing with you over who had jurisdiction?"

He cautiously nods.

"But outside of immediate concerns, sorting that sort of thing out wasn't your job, right? That's for your Captain or the Police Commissioner or the Mayor. Right?"

Another nod.

"There's been an escape, Detective Stone. And the reason why you're here on a release scheme on your own rather than something else is that the demon who sent you wants to keep things quiet. They fucked up, didn't they?"

Another nod. "Probably."

"But knowing that doesn't help if you can't notify someone in internal affairs. Because despite their misdeeds, you can't get any leverage."

I reach into my pocket and take out today's apple. I was planning on giving it to Gwendolyn, but magic aside psilocybin mushrooms work nearly as well.

"Good. And evil. And the difference between them. Take it and offer it to the demon when they turn up to complain. And if they're still annoyed, give them my number, and I'll put them through to my sponsor."