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

[Mr Zoat]

21st January 2013
16:09 GMT

I try scanning him, only to have his personal shield baffle my effort. Touching him-.

Jade starts to reach out, then stops herself and drops her hand.

Trying to touch him when he's got a force field I don't recognise active would be a bad and quite possibly terminal idea. It's eaten through the bit of the… Deck? It's… Is this stone? But only a little way, because Kalmin's far too capable a technologist to set a disintegration field to 'just keep going' unless that's useful.

"Dead?"

Orion doesn't sound particularly concerned.

"I can't tell. His shield-."

"Ah, I'd almost forgotten that Weaponers could sense the machines of war, if they were powerful enough."

News to… Me. "Draan Del Daar, would you mind explaining?"

"I didn't invite a Weaponer into a maltusian's workshop. You can hardly blame me if he suffers some ill-effects."

"Right. I thought that your workshop was the room on the surface."

"At my age? That's barely a foot locker."

"So..? Where do you want us?"

Guiding lights appear along the corridors ahead.

"This way. Leave the Weaponer there or bring him; it makes no difference to me. Though I imagine that he might find it quite interesting, if he regains consciousness."

Yes, yes, we're being betrayed.

I try scanning through the surface of the moon, and get nothing. The corridor behind us has firmly closed.

Hm.

He's a maltusian. He doesn't have any material desires that he can't meet himself. Members of the actual Controller faction compete for influence and renown through taking positions and proving them viable. That's why Hinon has seniority at the moment and the guy who founded the Darkstars is number two. Killing useful assets reduces that, and while I doubt that killing us would actually trouble him, he wouldn't do it as a result of acquisitiveness. I don't think that I have anything that he wants. If he was interested in the orange light there's an Orange Central Power Battery sitting in the open for him to look at. It's advertising for unaligned maltusians anyway, no one's going to stop him studying it or connecting himself to it.

Turns out that I can't guess the motives of a being millions of years old.

Ah, crumblers under the floor that's under Kalmin, cut through and pick him up… Yes, that worked, and now I can carry him along. I-.

"I should have known that we would face betrayal."

"Yeah, I feel the same way."

Jade turns her helmet my way. "You weren't expecting it?"

"It's just… So illogical." I turn to Orion. "Up to you. He's clearly up to something crazy, but I don't know what and I still want that ring. If you say 'no', I'll do my level best to return you to New Genesis at once."

He regards me cautiously. Measure of a Man.

He keeps regarding me. Once Bitten, Thrice Shy.

Then he turns towards the path. "No. We will finish this. If this is mere mummery then I will merely express my displeasure at his gamesmanship. If he acts against me, then he will not leave here alive."

He powers up his astro-harness and shoots down the corridor.

"After he..? Makes the ring?"

"There are plenty of other maltusians, Paul."

"It's a specialist-. Shall we?"

She nods, and we accelerate after Orion with Kalmin floating along like a trailer.

"It's a specialist subject. Most power ring specialists either stayed Guardian or are Controllers because that's where the specialty gets used. There are actually only three on Maltus who could make a red ring within a reasonable timeframe, and the others are even more neurotic. And so far, he hasn't actually done anything to us other than be a bit cagey and annoying."

"Do you think that's all he'll do?"

"Not in a million years."

We catch up with Orion, and… There isn't really a lot to say. Ring scans are returning nothing at all helpful. The walls look like they're made of stone blocks, but since we've got air and gravity-.

"Draan Del Daar, this isn't some sort of maltusian bachelor pad, is it? The design is very gothic but-."

"No. It doesn't like being changed."

"'Maltusian bachelor pad'?"

"I know they breed like pandas, but the core motivating factors of organic life must be in there somewhere."

"I've long since moved beyond such things."

"You know, a few years ago I more or less shut down my sex drive so that I wouldn't be distracted from my work." I shake my head. "It's not a good idea."

"Again, speak to me when you are a million years old. Ah, you've arrived."

There's a door of… Some sort of highly sophisticated material that I can't scan. It splits into twelve sections, each sliding into the surrounding wall to reveal a short corridor leading to a metal-lined chamber. Two… Troughs? Of glowing red… Stuff, sit on either side of a ring-forge, the contents looking like a cross between a liquid and a construct.

Did he..? Already have this?

Orion is incensed. "If you already had the Butcher's essence, why did you send us on that quest!?"

"Because you could absorb what was left, and create a link between yourself and the Butcher Entity. It will improve the quality of the ring."

"Then why are you not here?"

"I am here. Just… Diffuse. I will be overseeing the process, but I will need you to carry out some of the physical actions."

Orion turns to me. "Lantern, is that plausible?"

"Krona was punished with dematerialisation, so that's something that maltusians can undergo and survive. Hinon implied to me that a ring forged for a specific person will respond better, but she's never said anything about one I make being better for me."

"That is because I do not precisely feel rage or hatred any longer, while Hinon Hee Hannanan continues to feel avarice. Age takes its toll, even on us."

"I've forged rings before. It didn't cause me any harm. It should be fine; just keep your focus."

Orion nods, and flies over to the forge.

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st January 2013
16:18 GMT

Thin tron lines glow red as Orion raises and lowers the hammer, his jaw tense.

"You must focus on each part of your anger and hate. Remember each slight and abusing. Picture them clearly as you swing the hammer."

Given that he's had no training for this or experience with a power ring, Orion's current record of five unified strikes seems pretty reasonable to me.

"Your manners try my patience."

"Then get angry! There is no need to contain yourself here, godling. Use your passions to fuel your labours!"

Orion brings the hammer down with a little more force this time, but the tiny fragment of ring that had already been created shatters from the mismatch of emotion.

Ping.

Orion's jaw trembles for a moment as the red dust evaporates from the force, but he takes a moment and then raises the hammer once more.

I'm not sure that's the best approach. I'd start with a skeleton of things that make him angry now, and build more complex things from there. But I don't know anything like as much about the red light as I do the orange. Or maybe he's just trying to wind-

Jade taps my left gauntlet.

-Orion up?

She continues to tap… Morse code.

Did he get the red material from the Free Lancers?

Hm. It would make a certain amount of sense. I assumed that they used the gates to get to Sector Five One Nine Seven, but Draan Del Daar could quite easily have moved them himself. And while this system's detection network is pretty darn good, we've never tested it against a hostile maltusian. He could teleport them to this highly shielded underground base without being spotted.

So it's possible. Can I gather more information?

Ping.

I can't see through the walls. More limited scans aren't showing me any traces of their emotions or biology. What..? Else..?

It's his motive again. If he was sending the Free Lancers anyway, was it a fluke? They definitely got to Volkreg before we did. Did he hear that I was asking Kalmin about other rings? Was me doing this just a happy coincidence as far as he was concerned? I mean, Hinon's been making waves, so it's… Not out of the question. Except… I saw orange from him earlier, but no red.

Ah. The red images were slightly different in each location. It might be possible to use empathic vision on them directly to get an idea of whether they're from the places we visited. And it they are…

Ping.

Then I'll be justified in questioning him more aggressively.

It might disrupt what Orion's doing, but given his current success rate I doubt that it will make much difference. Alright. Crank up the empathic vision and see what I can-

The bull lowers its horns and charges and RIP and TEAR and PAIN!

-seeow.

Ping.

That was… Pretty similar. The rampant bull featured pretty strongly, but then again, when would the Butcher not be rampant?

I tap back 'Uncertain, but probably'.

"I am hitting the forge as you insist."

"Any fool can hit a forge with a hammer! I need you to hit it with your soul!"

Ping.

"You want me to..?"

Ping. … Ping.

"You're a new god, aren't you?"

"Very well, then." RIGHTEOUS FURY!

The hammers begins glowing a faint red as he strikes the anvil once again.

"I will show you." DIVINE CHASTISEMENT!

Ping ping ping.

"The full extent of my rage!" GODLY WRATH!

The hammer lights up, tron lines shining with blinding light! The forge glows as well, and I can see whatever it is in the troughs flowing to the forge in a series of flickering, rage-filled images.

Jade jerks away, hands clenching into fists and her body crouching slightly as she tries to keep it from affecting her. I'm-.

I'm. No Ophidian. But I… I'm not feeling angry myself. Why aren't..?

I raise my right arm, empathic vision turned up. I can't normally see myself in the way I see other people, but-. Ah. Red light swirls and… It's trying to attach itself to me but it isn't finding anything to attach to before flowing away, drawn to the far angrier Orion and... Jade.

Does this happen when I make a ring? That could be a problem.

Ping.

I turn away from Orion, who continues to swing his hammer with greater ferocity even as he completely loses his rhythm.

Ping!

"That's the spirit! I can nearly feel it myself!"

"Jade?"

"It's-. Making me think of all the things you do that make me angry."

"Normally, I'd be happy to talk about them and see if we can resolve the-."

Her helmet comes up so she can make eye contact through our visors. "That's one of them."

"The underlying issue, but as Orion said, anger feeds anger."

"What keeps it out? Tell me!"

Ping!

In her case? I'd like to say love, but I'm a little more self-aware than that. Given her life to date, not fear or compassion-. Alan. She always seemed relaxed around him, even when he was wearing his ring.

"Hope. Your emotions are the way they are as a reaction against your father. Embrace the idea that you can be a new person. Remember how you-" She nods. "-feel around Alan. Hold on to that."

"It's not… Easy."

Piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

"INFERNAL DEVICE, CEASE YOUR INCESSANT SQUAWKING!"

Orion uses his left hand to rip his Mother Box from his belt and hurl it-.

I try to use a construct to catch it, but it's too slow to form. Instead I activate my armour's flight system and catch it.

Ping.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Orion tosses his hammer into the wall, cratering it up to the handle!

"I MEANT EVERYTHING!"

And then his face starts to… Change.

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st January 2013
16:22 GMT

Red light flows freely from the troughs, running into his body. The… 'Ears' on his helmet grow as they slide forwards, the faceplate extends downwards and the material of its construction takes on a more bone-like appearance as it… Merges with his face. His clothing had looked like it was made of a soft material, but now it expands with red armoured plates growing out of it. The belt grows a decoration of tiny skulls while the uneven surface of the armour suggests.. dripping blood.

His eyes are glowing red and I'm pretty sure that this isn't supposed to happen.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!"

But I'm still not feeling anger. And he's referring to himself in the singular and-.

"Orion, are you-?"

He tilts his head back and breathes construct fire, the flames enveloping the upper portion of the room.

"FACE ME DRAAN DEL DAAR!" STAND BEFORE ME, COWARD!

Space shudders as Draan precipitates out of the air, staggering a pace as he lands and patting out the flames from his robes.

"Yes! YES!" Draan spreads his arms out wide! "SET ME ON FIRE WITH YOUR RAGE!"

I don't know-. Okay, I don't think that Orion is possessed or… Acting as a host. He's just internalised the red light-. Which is what I was seeing, I just didn't take into account that there might be other changes.

Oh dear.

Orion grabs Draan by the neck with his right hand, lifting him off the ground. His eyes fix themselves on me.

"AND YOU, LANTERN! IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?!"

"No."

He-. Move!

He leaps at me, swinging Draan as a bludgeoning weapon through the space I just occupied! Draan's legs hit the floor and I'm sure that if he were any vaguely normal humanoid his legs would be jelly along with his neck. Instead he's… Grinning.

Ping.

"Draan, what the-"

Orion swings again, Draan's body glowing as it clips-. Agh! My armour, which gets a chunk gouged out of it as a result.

"-heck are you-"

Orion holds out his left hand and a great axe appears in it. Not a construct axe, he just manifested a physical axe-. With more reach! Back up back up!

"YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

"Yyyeeeeesssss…"

Ping.

He swings again, and this time I catch the haft of his axe in the prongs of a construct bident-.

Ah.

And am reminded that he has super strength and I don't by being slammed against the wall on the far side of the room!

Orion death-glares me before throwing Draan to the ground and switching his axe to a two-handed grip. The axe glows a furious red as he swings it down!

"BE SMOTE FROM THE UNIVERSE!" "BE SMOTE FROM THE UNIVERSE!"

I throw out a beam of orange energy to try and block the axe, but he cleaves through it and slams the blade deep into Draan's chest!

And Draan wraps his hands around the haft.

"Finally-ah. It's been so long since I last felt pain. I'd forgotten-."

Orion tries to pull the axe back for a second swing, but it… Looks like Draan's strong enough to stop him.

"Forgotten what it felt like. And now I'm starting to remember what it was like to get angry."

Ping.

Orion tugs harder on the axe, but it doesn't move at all.

"Is that what this was about?"

"Hinon told you about her false face. The way she pretends to be a crotchety old.. human.. woman… Because you young species get confused when she behaves like herself."

Orion stamps his right foot on Draan's stomach and heaves… To no avail. And the red light is starting to flow through him and into Draan.

"I don't see the link. You want anger? The red light?"

"I want my passion back. I hunted the Butcher for centuries, from civilisation to civilisation, from soul to soul! And by the end it hated me more than anyone else in the history of the universe! You know what it did to me, don't you?"

I can guess.

"It barred you from using its light."

"For so long I couldn't even remember why it mattered. And then I didn't think it could be fixed. But you've got this strange knack-."

Orion tries to let go, only to find that his hands are stuck.

"Oh no you don't. That glorious anger is completely wasted on you, isn't it, you petulant child? Not the slightest scrap of self-mastery."

"If you'd told us this was what you wanted, we would have helped you voluntarily."

"That's not how it works. It needed to be engrafted, and he needed to be angry at me."

"Okay, and… Then what?"

"And then I express myself"

I'm going to be having words with Hinon after this.

"'Express yourself' as in..?"

"This is a very… Angry… Bachelor pad. With guns that will ruin the whole of Maltus."

"What did we ever do to you?"

"I'm too angry to care."

Yes, this is much worse than I thought.

Ping.

Well, thank you, but that doesn't actually-

Jade shoots him in the head to no effect.

-help.

"Come on, war godling." Draan grins up at Orion, small flecks of yellow blood spitting from his lips and seeping from the wound in his chest. "Give me everything."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st January 2013
16:25 GMT

"Uh."

Kalmin forces himself up on all fours as Orion writhes in Draan's hold.

"What did you do to..? Me?"

"Nothing."

He rises to his feet, his force field shutting off. "Disappointing. A minor manifestation of the Butcher Entity. Is the maltusian trying to bond with this battle station's central intelligence?"

"Not according to him. Ever killed a maltusian?"

He jerks his head my way.

"On Qward, that would be a marriage proposal."

He raises his right hand, a qwa bolt forming in an instant-. And then falling apart, the energy being drawn upwards into a device mounted in the ceiling.

"That's never happened bef-. No matter." He strides forward with his hammer at the ready. "I will-."

He shudders, dropping to one knee and staring ahead.

"How could-?"

Draan grins through bloody teeth. "You don't remember it, qwardian? Given how well you've internalised the Anti-Monitor's creed, there can't be that many weapon systems that have such an effect on you."

"The Void Hound. It's… Here."

"It has been for some considerable time. Your master gave it excellent disguise systems."

He… Stands, pushing the weakening Orion back even as he keeps the axe in his chest.

I fire an energy beam at his face. It hits… For about a fraction of a second, then it just… Stops, a few millimetres away from his skin.

"You can't touch the Ophidan here, can you? She would be a threat."

Orion collapses to his knees, and Draan casually checks the levels in the troughs. That's an obvious approach. But-.

I make eye contact with Jade and try to surreptitiously offer her the Mother Box.

"Nearly done."

Assimilate troughs.

Thick beams of orange light flash out, striking-. A force field, which causes my constructs to fade away. Alright, crumblers-.

"Do you really think that primitive technology will work?"

"It usually does."

He releases his left hand's grip on the axe and uses it to shove Orion over. Orion drops, falling onto his back and struggling to move. Then Draan pulls the axe out of his chest and holds it up to examine it, blood still coating the blade. It takes a moment or two, but his robes mend themselves and the wound appears to close.

Jade takes the Mother Box from me as Draan fixes me with a stare, his eyes glowing red.

"You have no idea how right this feels."

"I removed my own ability to desire things when I separated myself from the Ophidian."

"Could you maintain it for a billion years?"

"No, but humans aren't designed to live as long as maltusians. We experience time differently."

Jade scuttles around the room to-. No, wait, why are you giving that to Kalmin? Draan doesn't look at her, but I don't think for a moment that he isn't aware of her.

"I'll let you out in a billion years and see how you feel."

He tosses the axe aside as he turns away, striding out through a newly-opened door in the far side of the room which closes securely behind him.

Oh dear.

I get a purple healing ray out of subspace and start shooting Orion with it.

"Kalmin, where are we?"

"We are inside Erdammeru. The Void Hound. An AI controlled battle station of colossal power. Ranx might be regarded as a cheap knock-off, though I suspect that its original specifications might have been similar."

He pokes the Mother Box.

Ping.

Kalmin grunts and raises his right hand, the qwa-energy that had been dismissed raining back down and reforming into a bolt. He checks it for a moment, then nods in satisfaction.

"Is it powerful enough to destroy Maltus?"

"Possibly. I only know it from very old legends which I could never fully investigate."

"How do we stop it?"

"Kill the organic creature directing it. Or the beast-mind itself. Otherwise, unleash a wave of destructive energy powerful enough to atomize it."

"Would qwa-matter work?"

For a moment he looks… Lost.

"Not if what the maltusian said is true. If the Anti-Monitor built this, for… Whatever reason he saw fit, his gifts will not avail me."

"And you couldn't kill Draan because..?"

"He is the ship's controller. Until that relationship is broken-." He growls quietly. "Without my full workshop, there is little I can do against him."

"Have you finished with the Mother Box?"

"No. Its sensors aren't being disrupted by Erdammeru. I want to listen as Maltus dies."

Jade snatches it back, then brings it closer to Orion.

Ping.

"Aaaaaaaaah…"

He's looking a little healthier, but his face and clothing… Haven't changed back. If they haven't changed back…

"Mother Box? Is Draan still… Connected to Orion?"

"Ping."

"Stole it? But it's still Orion's, right?"

"Ping."

"You were helping Orion suppress his rage, weren't you?"

"Ping?"

"Can you help him remember it instead?"

"… Ping."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st January 2013
16:28 GMT

"My… Face."

"We can fix that."

"No." His right hand comes up and feels his right horn. "I am a New God. Our bodies don't change once we reach maturity. Unless some greater power… Warps us. Highfather once had black hair, but it changed after his contact with the Source."

"So..?"

"The anger I absorbed was so intense that it changed something fundamental in me. And then Draan Del Daar took it. I am free of my rage for the first time in my life, and I want nothing more than to get it back."

"Might be able to do that. And since-" I slam another crumbler ram into the door, then the wall, and then the ceiling device to absolutely no effect. "-we can't get out, we may as well give it a try. Do your New God powers still work?"
Strength To Overcome.
Orion perks up slightly. "I am still not myself, but… Yes."

"Okay. I saw the way the Butcher's Blood attached itself to you, when I drew it out of the people on Volkreg. Hopefully, I'll be able to repeat the process. The downside is that doing so will probably send you back into rage mode. Or worse."

"I will remember who I hate the most. Though I will warn you: if I regain the full extent of my rage, I will hold you responsible for your portion of this."

"I didn't know that Draan was going to do anything like this. If Maltus is destroyed, N.E.M.O. will almost certainly collapse, and the Reach will conquer and enslave the entire region. So long as you can focus until he's stopped, you can have it out with me afterwards."
Slay The Greater Evil.
"That, I can do."

"Kalmin, can you find the AI core?"

"Easily."

"Alright then. Orion, you're probably going to want that axe."

He gingerly walks over to it, bending down like he has joint pain.

"Is there a reason that you're not using your astro-harness? Your blaster could-."

"Using the astro-force requires a spiritual focus that I… Cannot muster like this."

I nod. "Alright, fair enough. Okay, I probably won't be able to connect him to you, but I should be able to generally shape a connection if you can use your own abilities to pull the rage back to you."

"And if he does the same?"

"Don't hit him in the chest with an axe."

"Ping."

"I know it's not helpful, I don't know."

Kalmin hefts his hammer. "You need only convince Erdammeru that you are more in tune with its feral, wrath-filled nature. Then you can use its weapons against Draan Del Daar."

"Would that work?"

"No, but it will distract him while I rend him into his component quanta for making a fool of me."

"Sounds good."

Right. I'd usually do this by accessing the Ophidian and… That's not working. I can't feel the Honden at all. And that should be impossible, but-. Don't know. But I've been studying magic for a while, and my tattoos are designed to connect me to local loci of arcane power. And I've been into the Dream.

I dose myself with the recommended dose of 'vision-assisting' psychoactives, and reach for the structures of my tattoos as if they were physical things. I aim to see the structures of myself as if it were the walls in the Honden. I've done… Things like this before, so…

There.

Now.

Orion still has desires, I still have an orange ring, and I still have a connection. I can-. Huh. The tears in Orion's metaphysique are a lot more visible like this, from where his own red was ripped out and where the new stuff was starting to make itself comfortable.

Okay.

And the entry point in my tattoos looks like that and the pulling shape I used to pull the red light out of the miners looked like this, and I can

Ping.

create the same sort of red-light-drawing structure that I had before. Unless I've misjudged the dose and I'm just tripping at the moment.

Ping.

Thank you.

"Okay, that should do it. Orion, make yourself whole."

"Draan Del Daar, you have taken something from me." "I will have it back. Now."

I can feel the pulling, even as I can't feel what is being pulled. Or see it, or anything else like that. At my neophyte skill level the walls of this room are an impenetrable barrier. I can't grab or pull something I can't see.

But I can suck really hard, with all of my desire and all of Orion's. And I can try sending out a construct lantern because while it's not very likely to kill anything it doesn't cost me anything and it might get lucky.

Yes, Master.

And… I can feel it. I shiver at the sensation of a thundering bull charging towards me with nothing in its tiny bovine mind but trampling me into the dirt, which I imagine is something that Draan himself will do a few moments later if this doesn't work.

And there's the bull, trampling, stomping, and I feel the burning as my tattoos are on fire! Push! Twist! I can see where it can go, where it must go, but anger and hate go where they will!

"Orion!"

Ping.

"My anger belongs to the Source." "And I don't belong to you!"

I see the bull shatter and the small bulls get lassoed into their proper positions and I think that now is a good time to purge those psychoactives, just as long as I keep the pulling force going until we've got it all.

Ping.

Good work.

Ping.

"RAAAAAGH!"

Orion… He's added construct armour and construct knives to the look, as well as Mother Box keeping its position on his skull-belt. Construct fire gutters around his mouth as he brings his axe down to cleave through the doorway.

"Draan Del Dar! Your blood shall be MINE!"

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st January 2013
16:31 GMT

The doorway opens before the axe can strike it, allowing Orion to charge through. Kalmin glances at the abandoned astro-harness for a moment before marching after him, with Jade and I flying along behind.

"What's the chance of a full-on manifestation of the Butcher Entity?"

"Given how it fled last time it was here, it seems unlikely. They have memories, as well you know."

I remember the… Strangely calm Red Lantern version of me I met at Vanishing Point. He said he achieved that state by accepting his anger rather than trying to hold it in check or channel it. And he had to connect to the Butcher first.

"Should we leave Orion to fight Draan and head for the bridge?"

Kalmin snorts. "Draan is a maltusian with some sort of connection to Erdammeru. He can find us wherever we go, and unless your exo-mantle has been considerably improved since I reviewed its capacities, you don't have any way to evade him."

Unless…

It used to be the case that maltusians could directly relay their own energy to Darkstars. The practice fell off because the new generation of suits were powerful enough that it wasn't really needed anymore, but…

"Jade, is your suit designed for direct empowerment?"

"It can be empowered, but we can't contact anyone outside of this place. And I doubt that Draan will-."

"Oh, well done Illustres." Kalmin's smiling. "That hadn't even occurred to me."

Jade considers for a moment. "You think you can drain his innate powers the same way you drained his rage?"

"Um."

"DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"I'll have my passion back, now."

"Honestly, I was going to ask Kalmin if he could build something."

"I could pull power out of him and into her, but I can't force him to express it."

"I don't think-"

A wave of energy shoots towards us down the corridor, and Jade and I duck behind a construct barrier I erect.

"-that's going to be a problem."

Something in the waves tries dragging at the power in my construct, but fails to get a grip. I wait until the feeling stops, then drop the barrier and accelerate to-.

Draan is in the air, twisting around an axe swing and then ducking under a gout of fire breath as Orion flies after him with construct wings. Wait, why is Draan dodging? He took the axe fine during their last fight. Because he doesn't have a reservoir of red energy to work from? Because Orion's too powerful for it to work? Because the forge is a couple of miles back?

Draan gestures, and Orion is suddenly a fraction of his size-. Distance, he's warped the distance. He's flying back towards us, but Draan just sneers at his effort-.

Then shudders as Kalmin taps his hammer against Jade's energy intake.

"I-. How have you-?"

He makes a throwing motion with his right hand and I interpose myself, shield constructs, armour plates and the best spatial warps I can manage. Those last just a fraction of a second as the dull grey lightning-.

Fzm!

Jade uses the boost to fire a more powerful maser bolt than her system can usually manage. Draan jerks his head away, but doesn't look injured.

"I won't miss the fool who designed that energy-."

Fires erupt around him as Orion appears, axe raised! Chains leaps out of the inferno and drag at his wrists and ankles as Orion brings his axe down!

CRUNCH!

Orion rips the axe out of Draan's head at once, and-. On any normal being, a skull wound like that would be fatal. But Draan's eyes are still focusing, still-.

Orion exhales, red flames flowing over Draan's body! And this time it takes, his skin blackening and his yellow blood boiling away.

"Wonderful rage…"

Orion brings his axe down once more, and Draan is cleaved in twain.

"RAAAAAAGH!"

Orion brings the axe down again and again and again until it embeds in the floor. Then he stamps and stamps until-

Ping.

-there isn't a great deal left of Draan's body.

Ping.

One more gout of flame, and Orion stops, standing… Very visibly not becalmed.

Ping.

"NO!"

Ping.

"No. I will not turn back having come this far."

He reaches down, running his right forefinger and middle finger through Draan's remains, scooping up a blob of Draan's… Internal liquids. He then reaches up to his bone-plated forehead and… Draws the red sigil with it.

"I have hatred and focus. My hate is for my father first of all. LANTERN!"

"Yes?"

"I will forge the ring. Do not follow me."

No fear.

"Right, ah… Kalmin? We should probably head to the bridge."

"And do what? None of us can commune with Erdammeru."

"Is there a communication system in there?"

"Yes, but using it requires that Erdammeru has accepted a master."

"Alright. In that case, we should go back to the exit and try to-."

A side door opens, and Captain Chance of the Free Lancers strides in.

He stops when he sees the remains on the floor.

"Bollocks. No bonus then, I take it?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st January 2013
18:13 GMT

Harrow shrugs, his expression suggesting a casual acceptance of events and an easy-come-easy-go attitude. He waves with his manacled hands.

"Illustres! Might I prevail upon you to release a group of honest traders caught up in events far larger than them?"

"It's not impossible that you will be released once our investigation is complete, and we will be expediting matters."

"Not all that reassuring, but it is better than what I was expecting."

Jade shoves him to the ground next to his colleagues, just in front of their ship.

"Alright, you don't have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court."

I look over the three of them, Risque's arm bandaged from where Jade shot her when she resisted arrest.

Yes, I could fix it, but I'm not feeling all that companionable right now.

Harrow grins. "Was that a quote?"

"Standard arrest script from my home country. We're stuck on a planetoid-sized war AI built by a being whose primary goal was the conversion of all reality into energy he could consume and the only way to get out is with the help of a rage-maddened war god. I'm not feeling good about that. Are you?"

Chance nods. "We were working on technology to manipulate the lights, like your power rings do. A lot of qwardian stuff on the market right now, if you know where to look for it. The Controller came-."

"He wasn't a Controller. Same species, but it's a political distinction."

Chance shrugs. "Daar came to us. Told us where we needed to be and how to get there. Someone built a couple of long range faster than light-."

"I know, I oversaw their construction."

Harrow nods approvingly. "Help a lot of people, those will."

"And we pick up some stuff for him. Even offered to fix one of the planets."

"Oh, I know. Good work. I completed your plan."

Risque glowers weakly at me. "We haven't done anything wrong and it was one of your people who hired us. What's your problem?"

"You're rapidly getting to the point where we can't risk you treating with our enemies, and given that Draan Del Daar was planning on using this place's primary weapons to destroy Maltus, this counts. Regardless of your criminal status, we might have to confine you as a strategic threat."

Harrow looks away, sighing. "That's the reward for hard work, I suppose."

Kalmin walks out of their ship, looking unimpressed.

"Their workshop isn't terrible, but the ship is severely undergunned. We can't get out that way."

Risque grimaces. "It's not supposed to be a warship."

"Alright. Please, keep an eye on the Free Lancers while I go and talk to Orion."

I fly back towards the forge room. I'm going to need to talk to Hinon about some sort of mental health check for unaligned maltusians when we get out of here, because Draan was clearly suffering for a very long time.

And the other two were supposed to be worse.

I hear the ringing of hammer on anvil as I approach, and I… I can feel it as well. It's… Oppressive, squeezing out other thoughts while somehow being unable to replace them. In my case, at least.

Ping.

"…my father's face."

As I fly in, Orion sets his hammer down… And picks up a red power ring from the forge.

"Done. A more perfect refutation of my father I cannot imagine."

"It's done, then?"

He holds it up to admire it.

"Yes. With this, every trace of my father shall be expunged from the universe." His face turns just enough to allow him to look at me. "And then I can deal with any other vermin."

"Snakes are not, technically, vermin. Just… Just a ring?"

"What else do I need?"

"A personal lantern, if you want to recharge it."

"I am a New God aligned spiritually to the Butcher." He slides the ring on his right ring finger. "I am beyond such limits."

Ping.

"Alright. We're still stuck in here. You're the only person in here angry enough to interface with Erdammeru. Would you mind giving it a go?"

He clenches his right fist, a floating red sigil appearing over his chest.

"I hear it. I will bring it to heel."

Ping.

"It will make an excellent weapon against Darkseid."

He stalks out of the forge chamber, and I assume that he knows where he's going. Nothing much I can do to help him.

That's my red ring, I suppose. Not sure what Izaya's going to say about the physical or psychological state he's in, but I won't exactly be sad if he does tear Apokolips apart with Erdammeru's primary weapons.

I vaguely remember the comic version of this place from a Crime Syndicate comic, and the Syndicate and League beat it because it was stupid enough to focus all of its weapons at a single point in their formation. I also remember it being quite good at blowing up planets.

So. Waiting for yellow. Now I need indigo, and I've got no idea where they hang out. I seem to remember that their homeworld had indigo compassion crystals on the surface, so maybe it's listed in old maltusian records? Ub'x didn't seem to want to talk to me last time, but maybe he was acting on incomplete information? I'm-

We feel the moment that We reconnect to the rest of the universe.

-not that hard a man to work with.

"Orange Lantern to Hinon."

"Done already?"

"Did you know that there was a giant battle station on Turi?"

"What? No? What are you talking about?"

"Sir, I request that you come here in person. You're going to want to see this."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st January 2013
18:55 GMT

I watch as a team of Controllers carefully remove the rock of Turi from around Erdammeru.

"How do you manage it?"

"How did they manage it. I understand that you were in a coma, but that thing must have been put there while the other Controllers were on Maltus."

"No, Maltus was abandoned when this happened. And even we didn't think to check Turi in any detail when we thought that we knew everything there was to know about it."

"Any idea how Draan Del Daar found out?"

"Given that Orion reduced his mortal vessel to pâté, that will be somewhat difficult to decipher. Even our abilities have limits."

"I didn't mean 'can you ask him now', I meant 'can you guess based on his history'. Or-. 'Somewhat difficult'?"

"One of us will attempt to connect to his symbiotes. That… Might give us a better idea. Though I doubt it."

"And what about Erdammeru?"

"I don't intend to try to interrogate that. It's a spacecraft, and therefore it's a problem for the Head of L.E.G.I.O.N.."

"Draan said that it was made by the Anti-Monitor."

"The Anti-Monitor made a great many weapons. I'm far less concerned by this than I was by his armour; this doesn't imply that he might have survived."

I nod, then frown. "Draan said that rings work best when their user makes them."

"If both the user and the prospective alternate ring-founder are of the same skill level. You have some way to go before you can equal me."

"Orion hadn't even touched a power ring before; how could he be Draan's equal in skill?"

"Draan hadn't felt rage in millions of years. It's not just familiarity with the mechanical process of ring-forging. You have to be familiar with the emotion as well."

"Ah." I nod. "I don't suppose that there are any unaligned maltusians who know a lot about compassion, are there?"

"It doesn't seem very likely. You remember what we did to the psions."

"Y-? I'd been assuming that they weren't intelligent at the time."

"They weren't as intelligent as us. But they were more intelligent than the laboratory mice humans use for their tests."

I take a small sealed container out of subspace and open it, looking inside at the broken fragments of half an indigo power ring. Decidedly inactive fragments. I tried putting it near to compassionate people or me when I was being compassionate, but it's… Broken.

"Is that what you got from the Berrith?"

"Yes. Can you tell who made it?"

She pulls it over to her and shakes the contents out onto her left palm.

"Not one of us. And almost certainly not a qwardian."

"Kalmin made a blue ring."

"An act that very nearly made me feel a profoundly disquieting philosophical uncertainty, even at my age."

"Actual philosophical uncertainly, or shell personality-."

"The former."

"Gosh. If that happens enough, would you have a heart attack? Because I think Kalmin would probably go for that."

"No." She takes a closer look at the fragments. "I don't recognise the species. Something that reached sophoncy while I was comatose, then. And… Yes, I think that they had direct contact with the Proselyte. Indirect contact, certainly."

She waves her right hand, and the pieces try to reassemble themselves. They make up most of the left side of the ring, and slightly more than their fair share of the boss.

"The workmanship is excellent; certainly better than anything you've managed."

I roll my eyes.

"That's all I can say, really." She manually slides the fragments back into the container before resealing it. "If you took it to one of the other two potential ring-forgers, they may-."

"I.. think I'll… Give them both a miss."

"You can learn."

She passes the container back to me, and I return it to subspace. So… What now? There isn't much point in me heading back to Earth until I get hold of a yellow ring, and I doubt that Lysis is making me her top priority.

"I don't suppose that there's a big pile of Proselyte blood somewhere?"

"That may be where that ring came from."

"Do you know where that is? Or someone else I could ask?"

"Draan Del Daar would be the man to ask about that. Or you could try the Guardians."

"I will. Any advice on Orion?"

"I understand what you intend. If it works, the white light should restore him." She shakes her head. "If it doesn't, then it can't be done and there's no sense worrying about it."

"I suppose that's right." I nod. "Okay, I'm going to clock off. Spend some time with Jade while we're both unassigned. Contact me-."

"There is one other thing."

"Yes?"

"I spoke to Sayd concerning… Various matters. She asked me to relay her gratitude concerning Volkreg and Azmah. You handled both situations well."

"Ah. Well, it's nice to be appreciated."

"Is that the sort of thing you see yourself doing after the war?"

"I think I'd like to. That, and tourism. How about you?"

"Once the Reach are destroyed I'm not sure that I have anything left to live for."

"What?"

"I'll have proved my point. Done everything that I set out to do. Oh, I won't kill myself if that's what you're worried about. Inertia will keep me going, as it does for the Guardians. But it would be wrong to say that I have something to reach for."

I look at her for a moment, then float closer and hug her for a moment.

When I release her, she looks mildly offended.

"Please, never do that again."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd February 2013
20:12 GMT

I shrug at Jonathan's image on the screen.

"Well, it's an… Interesting answer."

"What's that s'pos ta mean?"

He's glowering, but I think that's his default-glower, rather than his someone's-actually-irritated-him glower.

"It's hard to get people to do something totally new, as opposed to something that's essentially the same as something they were doing anyway. A change in organisation that doesn't change anything at street level would garner far less resistance than a change in rules of engagement that affected everyone."

"Ain't no one gunna complain 'bout getting more respect from the Management."

True, but still…

"An award ceremony, though?"

"Yeah? What? Not putting it on T.V. or nothin'. I figure it's a cultural event, yah know? Something that brings everyone in the whole Syndicate together. And everyone wants ta' be the ones up on the stage sometime."

"Okay, so 'Highest Earner' I get. And 'Most Improved Territory', because if you give someone an underdeveloped area and they do good work turning it around, they should get respect for managing that even if the actual profit isn't all that great. 'Best Fight' works because we are a criminal network, and it encourages people to remember that."

"And 'cause there's people who can't do nuthin' else. Might as well give them respect for it."

"Might I suggest 'Best Fight With An Enemy'? I wouldn't want to reward them for fighting other members of the Syndicate."

He shrugs. "Yeah, that's what it's suppose ta be. You really think someone-."

He cuts himself off as he thinks about it.

"Yeah, okay."

"Now, do you want that to be a single award, or do you want to split it into 'Best Single Combat' and 'Best Group Combat' as separate categories?"

"Ah…" He frowns, his eyes moving away from me. "Maybe? I wanna go through the applications, see what actually gets submitted."

"Okay. And 'Best Covert Operation'."

He shrugs. "What?"

"I'm concerned about giving an award for something 'covert'."

"It's a secret ceremony-."

"Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead, Ultraboy. If we send out hundreds of invitations, word will get out."

"'Best… Surprise Operation'?"

I nod. "That could work. It rewards people with good field leadership skills but who aren't necessarily good business managers. Now, 'Best Revenge'."

"Like you said, we're a criminal syndicate. We gotta get back at the people who get one over on us."

"Yes, but I'm concerned about encouraging revenge attacks that aren't strategically useful. The last thing we want is someone taking a shot at Luthor because they want the award."

Jonathan looks truculent. "Gotta take a shot at him sometime."

Not if I can help it.

"Right, but that's something that takes planning. Strategic planning. We really don't want someone going rogue on something like that."

"Fine. Howsabout 'Best Planned Revenge'? I mean, if they actually pulled it off without blowback, what's the problem?"

"As long as we're clear that it won't be awarded posthumously and normal rules about escalation apply…" I nod. "Alright. We could give it a try and see what happens. 'Best Costume'."

"I never went to the pictures 'cause I heard a movie got an Oscar for 'Best Sound Design'. Not everything gotta be super serious."

"How about restricting it to costumes that were used in the field at least once?"

"Yeah? Why-?" He frowns. "You think people would make costumes just ta win an award?"

"This is about public acknowledgement before their peers. I think we could see some very interesting costumes, and if they don't have to use them in the field then things could get downright silly."

"'kay. Just one time, or fer the whole year?"

"I think just once is okay. It's not a serious award, and if it's something with a big flaw it's better that they be able to correct the problem. 'Best Young Villain', no… Ah, actually, is that limited to Made Men? Because a lot of younger… Younger associates, won't have been 'made' yet."

"Nah. They don't need ta be, but they ain't excluded if they are."

I nod. "Fine. I don't think we should have 'Most Powerful'."

"Why not?"

"Because it undermines the Management if we openly acknowledge that there's someone more powerful out there." He moues, then nods. "I mean, the Management themselves aren't eligible, right?"

"Nah. I get yah, I just really wanted ta do it, yah know? It woulda been one of the big awards. There are Made Men who could take the Management in a fight."

"How about 'Best Display Of Power'? The implication's the same, but it's not quite as direct. And it means that whoever's winning it has been using that power in the field."

"I… Lemme workshop it some. See if I can make it work."

I nod. "Okay. 'Best Theft', yeah, no problem. 'Best Use Of A Vehicle'..?"

"Not a big deal. Something anyone can try for."

I nod as I scan down the list. "Okay, and the same with the rest… Yes, I think this idea has legs. Do you want to finalise things, or should I raise the idea with the Management at my next meeting?"

"Lemme get the whole thing planned out first. I wanna be sure I'm ready before I go to the Management."

"You want to do the presentation yourself?" He nods. "Okay, yes, we can make that happen. Let me know-" I hear the door open. "-when you're ready. Ah, Zorina just got back, so-."

"Gotcha." He smiles at me. "I'll call back once I'm ready."

The screen goes dead as I stand up and walk out of my study and onto the landing. Zorina and Zita are just coming in the front door, and Zita's fast asleep in the basket floating alongside her. "Zorina, how did it go?"

She looks up towards me, frowning slightly as I head down the stairs.

"They think she's a reincarnation. That she had at least two lives before this one."

I frown a little. "Is that..? Unusual? Bad?"

"In Europe?" She nods as I reach her and kiss her on the forehead. "It's a little unusual. Bad… Depends on who she was, and what kind of memories she kept."

"Is she going to remember everything? Is she-?"

Is she our daughter, or effectively a changeling, is what I'm thinking. Is what I'm worrying.

Zorina smiles reassuringly. "No, that's not how it works. She's Zita Zatara, and she-. She won't start remembering anything clearly until she's at least ten. And then, who she is will still be more important than who she was."

I nod, a little relieved. "And her magic?"

"That's not clear. Her last incarnation was a powerful mage, but the one before that wasn't at all. We'll just have to keep an eye on her. Depending on how things go she might regain her second life's magic rather than showing Zatara family magic."

"Did they have any advice for us?"

"Avoid trains, explosions and… Communists, for some reason?"

I frown, then shrug. A hidden coven of witches are the last people who are going to give clear answers. "Alright. I think we can manage that?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Home Field

4th February 2013
11:37 GMT -7

"Hey, man."

I sit down next to the dude laying in the street. That's something Wonder Woman tol' me to do. Makes it so I'm not tower… Ah, taller than them. Less scary.

"H-hey."

"Y'all plannin' on hol'en up traffic all day?"

Ain't a lotta cars 'round. Spent a couple days pullin' cars outta the road so's trucks and ambulances could get through back when this whole mess started. People ain't drivin', 'cept when they got to.

...

Sometimes, they don't go fer a drive when they got to. Wonder Woman don't like us gettin' those jobs so much. I tol' her we can handle it, but, ah… She said robot-atom's little robots can deal with jobs like that. She needs us fer actually talkin' to people.

"Ah 'unno. Can't think of no reason t'move."

And she says that's it. I used to think there was… I dunno, not, like, magic words… Just stuff a smart guy could say to… Like, encourage someone. Like Doc Quinzel did with us. But it turns out jus' talking to someone does nearly the same thing.

And that'll have to do, 'cause I sure as s-sugar ain't going back to school.

I don't know what set this guy off. More guys do this stuff like this than girls. When they get real bad, they don't leave the house at all.

I don't know what this guy needs to hear, neither. But if all I gotta do is talk? I can do that.

"Don't look comfy. It's all gritty and dusty."

"That it is. Ah jus' don't think those things matter none."

"Sure they do. Who wants to do laundry more than they gotta?"

"Heh."

That wasn't no happy kinda laugh, but it's… He's responding. He heard what I said and he said something back.

"What's it to you, anyways?"

"Ah'm working for Wonder Woman. Y'all layin' here makes me look bad."

"That all it is, huh?"

"Sure. 'cause if'n ah do a real good job, maybe ah'll get a kiss out of it."

"Fer real?"

I shrug. "Can't hurt tryin', right?"

Ain't going to happen. She ain't been with a guy in a hundred years, and she treats me like Doc Sivana does. Older Doc Sivana. The woman one, not the little scary guy. She told me to call her 'Venus' and I didn't think that was right, but maybe it's the only way to talk without getting confused the whole time?

Don't rightly know how I feel about it. Got two ladies who want to be my Maw, and they're both better than the real one. Nice when they're doing it, but…

"Guys done dumber before."

"So ah jus' gotta beat those guys, an' I'm set. C'm'on, man." I hold out my right hand. "Where you live? Ah'll take y'all home."

"We lost, didn't we?"

"Ah. Ah don't really keep up with football…"

"You people. Superheroes. That why everyone feels lakh they whole family up an' died."

"Thanks! Ah ain't never been called a superhero 'fore."

Especially around these parts. 'Don't shit where you sleep' sure is good advice, and my life would have worked out better if I'd gotten it earlier. There's a few places I don't really want to go right now because… I don't want to think 'old me' and 'new me', because that's…

What did Doc Quinzel call it..?

Thinking like that stuff was done by someone else. When it wasn't. It was me. Me deciding I don't want to be like that no more don't mean that I wasn't back then. And I know I don't do that stuff no more, but plenty of people don't.

"So what's with the get-up?"

I look down at my shirt. The Anti-Life folks got alla the equipment that was stored in Belle Reve for the prisoners, and we didn't stick around to get our normal clothes back. So the guys who needed equipment got given old versions of their stuff the Justice League had in storage. I got some clothes that the old Doctor Fate had in his trunk. Don't got no idea who owned them. Fate was, like, two thirds my size when he was a hero. And I don't know who picked this stuff, because the round collar jackets make me feel Chinese, and then there's the decoration. It's sewn on and not printed. Whoever made it used gold-coloured thread to make the pictures and it must have taken ages. Looks good, though. But I don't think it's really me.

"Thrift store. Only thing they had that fit me. Guess they had some Chinese strongman who needed cash real quick."

"Got their address?"

He looks at me for a little while, then he reaches out to take my hand and I pull him upright.

"Yeah man, but it's in Massachusetts."

"Oh. Don't worry, then."

"So where'd you live?"

"I-I can make it on mah own. I jus'…"

I try looking like I got sympathy, like I want to know what's got him so down. But this isn't the first time I've dealt with someone doing this. I get a couple a day, every day since the Justice League started sending me out. I can make like I care -and it's not like I want bad things to happen to him or nothing- but I can't make me actually care. I ain't good at it. Can only manage a fistful of people right now.

"What's happ'ning, man?"

"Is this it? Are we doomed? I thought the Justice League would git 'er done in a few days, but..?"

He sighs real heavy.

The truth is… I think Batman's making things up as he goes. And I get it. No one knows how we should deal with this. They don't tell me much about what's going on, but I see how many people are killing themselves. And how many are just doing what Mannheim tells them to, or doing what one of the city bosses tells them to. Just about everyone on Mannheim's side is hostage, and… I don't want to kill them. Even if it would make things a whole lot more simple. So all we can do is destroy their Anti-Life radio things and fight them when they try to take a new town. And run away when F…

Big evil robot dude, shows up. And that sucks. But even I know you can't just tell folks that. Or they just give up.

"Yeah, this whole thing sucks real bad. It's gonna take a whole lotta work to get things straightened out. But a lotta people thought the world was ending when the Sheeda attacked, and we still beat them, right?"

"Yeah."

"So we gotta tough it out. Gotta remember that even if it feels bad now, we're gonna get there in the end. Ah." I shake my head, because I got this speech from a real good speaker and when I do it, it just sounds dumb. "Superman does this better than me. But we're gonna win. You'll see."

"O-okay. Thanks… Thanks, man. Hey, what's yer name, anyhow?"

"Tommy. Tommy T-. Beresford."

"I dunno, man. That ain't exactly Superman, y'hear me? Maybe you should work on it some maw."

"What y'all think ah'm doin' here?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th August 1999
7:23 GMT

"Will ye no' sit down?"

The… Short alien gestures to the human-scale chair opposite him as he takes a sip from his teacup. The table between us is similarly sized for humans, meaning that he's sitting on a wooden highchair.

I… Take a look around the interior of his home. It looks like… Like a country cottage from a century ago. A bookshelf covered in traditionally-bound books, heavy wooden furniture rather than modern chipboard flat packed stuff and… Jars of preserves.

It's not what I was expecting.

"Did ye drop something?"

"No. Ah. Sir?"

This isn't how I thought this would… I give him an awkward smile and sit down in the chair. There's a slight hiss of escaping air as the padding deflates and my weight pushes gas out through the seams in the leather.

"Last time I checked, aye. So. What does the Triarchy want wi' the likes o'me?"

I stare at him for a moment, and he stares back.

"Sir?"

"Is there some communication problem we be having?"

"Sir, I just appeared in orbit with this ring. And then I asked it to take me to…" I gesture to him with both hands. "I… Don't know what the… Triarchy? Is?"

"Is that so? Hah!" He looks away for a moment. "And here's me thinking they'd tracked me down, begorrah!"

That… Doesn't… Sound good. Um.

"Should..? They be tracking you down?"

"I don't see why they would. I like the simple life. And they don't. But sometimes they can't keep themselves to themselves and they stick their noses in for the sake o' it."

"Ah. No. I'm here for purely selfish reasons."

"Oh? Well. I suppose I am too, when you get down to it. So what'll ye be wanting?"

"I-deally, a personal lantern."

"And what might one o'them be?"

Oh.

"The charge unit? That goes with the ring?"

"I don't know anything about anything like that. Back when I left, those rings were for the weans, no' for aliens."

"For what?"

"Children. So I don't really understand how you got a hold of it."

"I would be happy to cooperate with you in investigating that." I sigh. "So you can't recharge it."

"Recharge it? O' course I can recharge it. Let me see, now."

He closes his eyes for a moment and mutters something in a language I don't understand. The green power ring on my finger can translate just about any language, but I turned everything off the moment I realised that I had no way to recharge it once I ran out of power.

"There we are."

A pale green glow envelops his right hand, and a moment later the ring starts glowing the same colour.

"It'll take a moment or two."

"Ah. Thank you, but… Ah."

"You'll be needing to be a little clearer than that."

"I… Sort of assumed that either you wanted me for something, or I could negotiate for a way to recharge with… With something I could carry with me. It doesn't seem… I mean, it isn't reasonable for me to expect you to just drop whatever you're doing when I get low on power."

"A lot o' that going around."

"A lot of..? What?"

"Assuming. So what were you thinking I was wanting?"

"To… Recruit me to the Green Lantern Corps. For some reason."

"And what would that be?"

"I'd… I'd like to say 'my fearlessness and resolution', but… I don't… I don't think I really stand out in either of those…"

"Ah, no. I mean to say, 'what is the Green Lantern Corps', when it's at home?"

"I'm a little surprised that you don't know."

"I moved away from the rest o'mah kind when we still lived on Maltus. I don't know much about what the rest o'them have been doing since."

"Ah. Well, as far as I know, they've taken to outsourcing some things to people like me." I raise my right hand slightly, drawing attention to the ring. "We get these, and a lantern-shaped charge point."

"Lantern-shaped, y'say? I'm not used to the rest o' my kind respecting our traditions like that. Do you know where it comes from?"

"A lantern is the traditional symbol for law enforcement amongst your people."

"It was a long time ago, when we still had a need for such things. So is that the sort o'work you'd be looking for, then?"

"It's-. What I assumed-. Yes? If that's what you want in exchange for recharging me. But if I'm honest, I'd rather have a charge point and be left to my own devices."

"Well, I don't really know about that. As I say, when I left, we didn't go around handing them out to folk. And I haven't done anything with the glow meself for a long time. But if you're looking fo' work, I might have something for ye."

"… Yes..?"

"What sorta work did you do before this?"

"I'm-. I was an administrative assistant."

"Oh." He frowns. "It's nothing at all like that."

"I don't need a power ring to be an administrative assistant."

"True enough. You see, I'm not the only alien on this world."

"I suspected, but didn't want to assume."

"I've been trying to keep an eye on the others. They're not all the sociable type, you understand. But I'm not so young as I was, and from the feel of it that ring o'yers can pack quite a punch."

"So you want me to..? Police them?"

"Something like that, lad. Why don't I bring you up to speed, so's you know what you're getting into."

 

[Mr Zoat]

27th August 1999
7:58 GMT

"O-kay. So… In summary, most human myths are a product of encounters with Earth's alien diaspora, and while most aliens on Earth are just keeping their heads down, some actually are trying to conquer the world."

"I'm not so sure that the vampires are trying to conquer the world, so much as take what they want from it."

"Vampires, who in reality are-" I point to the home-made book in front of me. "-big snake-like creatures disguised by holograms."

"So they are."

"And… European myths come from their disguised state, and… Indian myths are based on their undisguised state?"

"I was'no in India at the time. But they're the right shape for nagas, so they are."

"They die when exposed to sunlight, zombify people by injecting them with poison from their fangs and the only reason why they haven't conquered the Earth already is that they all hate each other and can't cooperate."

"That's… You're oversimplifying things a little, there. None o' the different species on Earth are really their people's best. So there's no need to worry about a giant armada flying in and re-enacting The Day The Earth Stood Still."

"So who are they?"

"Outcasts and the descendants of refugees. For the most part. I came here to get back to nature, but that's just me."

"So what..? Myth..?"

He smiles brightly. "I'm a leprechaun."

I frown. That seems a little… Light-hearted?

"You'll be wondering why I'm not wearing a green suit and handing out Lucky Charms."

"No, I hate those things. I used to eat Ricicles, and then they ruined them by putting marshmallows in with them. And I was expecting robes from a maltusian, not a tweed suit."

"Ah, different culture, I suppose. I used to run interference between alien settlements and human explorers, which is a lot easier to do when you have holograms to send people the wrong way and gold to buy them off."

"Just… Just you?"

"I did the same thing a few times. The stories got around."

"Alright. So, why.. do that? Why don't people know about this?"

"How many aliens do you think there are?"

I glance at the book, but there isn't any census data. Not on that page, anyway.

How many non-human sophonts could realistically hide on Earth? Okay, they've got holographic disguises, but… How could they maintain them? Earth literally wouldn't have been gathering the raw materials they'd need to make them or do maintenance on them until this century. And then there's the issue of genetic variation…

"No need to strain yourself. There are maybe ten thousand lycanthropes around the world. A few hundred vampires and oni. A bit less than a hundred banshees. Every other species is even less than that."

"That's… Not sustainable. Is it? I mean… The genetic issues they'd have…"

"It depends, it depends. Some species have technology that gets around those sort o' issues. Or reproduce differently anyway." He smiles. "Others live so long they don't really mind it. But they're outcasts and refugees, not colonists. If they can hang on in the dark corners o' the world for a while it's luck, and not planning."

"Refugees? We don't have interstellar trade. Why would they come here?"

"Any port in a storm, lad. One or two ships get out when a planet gets overrun, they're not going to turn their noses up at a world they can live on just because it's a little out o' the way."

"Running from… What?"

He shrugs. "Who knows? Invasions fleets don't usually stop to do a formal introduction, and it was a long time ago. Vampires, oni and lycanthropes all have decent sized fleets near their home worlds… Or they did last time I was over that way. And none of them are shy about starting a fight. Or it could have been someone else."

"Okay, so… Why keep them secret? Why not just walk up to a government and introduce themselves?"

"Why'd you think?"

"Okay, they might have got a violent response during some parts of history, but we know that aliens aren't demons now. Offer technology for sanctuary."

"Some communities have been here for centuries. Very few actually remember their original homes. And as far as technology goes, they might have a few bits and pieces from home, but that doesn't mean they know how it all works. Civilisation is complicated. Knowledge is specialised. Most didn't come with school books or big data archives."

"X-Com." He raises his eyebrows. "If the people don't have valuable knowledge, then they're not valuable. But their technology still is, now that we can nearly understand it. A lot of the human… Brain mechanisms for telling us that people are people won't work with sophonts who don't look like us. So there are probably government agencies who are somewhat aware of what's going on, and decided to be murdering, sticky-fingered arseholes about it."

He seems mildly amused.

"That's one way to describe the Alliance, I suppose. Though when the biggest non-human groups on Earth are murderous, sticky-fingered arseholes just the same, I'd recommend not clambering up on your high horse too quickly."

"Alliance..? Alliance of who?"

"That's no' really clear to me. They started sticking their nose in about fifty years ago. Their equipment has bits and pieces from just about every species on Earth, aside from the ones which are completely incompatible. Most o' the time they have American accents, but that doesn't mean all that much. Most people who speak English have an American accent."

I remember how weird it was listening to the man in charge of the Millennium Dome speaking English with a noticeable French and American accent.

"So is there some great international conspiracy, or..? Do they just use their technology to spy on other spies and keep them ignorant?"

"I don't rightly know. But if it's a job you're wanting, you can try to find out and let me know when you do."

"Sounds manageable. A few plasma cannons won't be enough to stop even a neophyte Lantern like me, unless I do something stupid. I'm not… Sold on this secrecy thing, though."

"Learn a little more about how things work before you rush to pass judgement."

I nod. "Will I be getting paid for this?"

"I can put a little gold your way, if it helps."

"I don't have any documentation, so trading gold would actually be a little difficult."

"Ah, don't worry. I can sort you out there."

"Alright. Spy on X-Com, and keep the secret. Anything else?"

"Those minor species I mentioned? I try to keep an eye on them. Keep them safe. The Alliance has been on a bit of a tear recently. I might be wanting you to provide protection a time or two. We don't really want a big fight, but… Send them on their way."

I nod, and offer him my right hand. "I believe we have a deal."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
04:59 GMT -5

"Cease."

The data on the social shifts that are occurring in Anti-Life exposed populations vanishes from my screen, being replaced by the robot's face. My hands move to enter the override command without conscious thought, even as I deduce exactly how this conversation will go.

The robot is extremely predictable.

And the override doesn't work.

"Mister Atom, I need to keep working."

"Incorrect. You are time expired. The quality of your work will decrease unacceptably from this point onward. I do not have the capacity to perform my regular tasks as well as yours."

The robot isn't capable of directly interfacing with other computer systems. Apparently it's a safety feature to prevent a virus infecting it. I suspect that it's a restriction its creator implemented to prevent him taking over every online computer in the world. We had to build a special voice command system to allow it to give commands to its robot drones fast enough to matter. It can give command to twenty different sets of drones simultaneously using different pitches, but it's only got one set of eyes.

And it has no social skills at all.

I step away from the computer and walk towards the medical-.

"I have removed your stimulants. You have reached the point of diminishing returns and would undergo a dangerous crash within four days plus/minus one day."

I can't stop working. The whole world-.

The robot's face vanishes from the monitor, and is replaced by… Bats. Bats hanging off zoo keepers who are stroking their heads.

"I chose the bat because it scared me as a child, not because I find them aesthetically appealing."

"I understand. You hate yourself and so identify with an unappealing animal."

The bat pictures are replaced with pictures of puppies. Pet owners have proven to be slightly more resistant to the effects of Anti-Life than people who don't own pets, the animals buoying up their mood and giving them something to live for. The animals themselves aren't affected by Anti-Life, but just giving pets to people who don't have them doesn't work as they're too depressed to learn new skills or become emotionally attached to them.

"If you were human, I might think you were joking."

"Why did the Batman leave the cave, out of his office, up the stairs and then into the third room on the right?"

I know he's right about needing to get some sleep, because I can feel myself starting to smile.

"Because that's where his bedroom is."

"You are supposed to claim ignorance. That is the structure of the joke."

I check the time on my armour's integrated computer, and I'm sure that I can only confirm what it said because it lets me. Normally, the idea of someone -anyone- else having this degree of access to my systems would be completely unacceptable.

But we don't have a choice.

And I'm so tired.

I walk towards the armoury and begin stripping off my armour. It's been over a week since I was in the field. It might be more efficient to stop wearing it entirely. I know perfectly well that even with J'onn and Hawkman sharing my strategic responsibilities that a lot of the time the most helpful thing I can do for the League is make sure that everyone else is in the position where they can do most good.

But I can't deny that it's galling that of all the League members it's my city that's been taken over. I had a file on Mistress before this started but there was nothing in her profile that suggested that she would respond this way to a situation like this. It's also galling how using the Anti-Life as a control system doesn't seem to produce materially worse results than preventing it from establishing itself.

I don't bother dressing. Dick's out with the team, and Alfred is still under medical sedation. Talia is probably still out in the city… Somewhere. I was concerned that exposure to the Anti-Life might cause her to revert to some of the behaviors she developed before meeting me. I should have had more faith in her.

It's a short walk through the manor to my bedroom, and I can't help but notice how empty it feels. I judged Rick to be at high risk, so he's acting as a bodyguard for Batson. No Dick, no Alfred and no Talia. Only a few years ago I considered that normal and wouldn't have particularly cared if it never changed. Now, I feel their absence.

Maybe I was just fooling myself.

I can still feel the presence of the Anti-Life. We destroyed both of Mannheim's attempts to build an Anti-Life transmitter inside Gotham, but it looks like having a sufficiently large number of people accepting it works just as well.

And that's not something we have a cure for.

I take a quick shower to try and relax. When Mistress took control of the city she still had the sense to make sure that the utilities still work. The people who work there are exempt from her… Games. Fortunately, she doesn't seem to be interested into coming far enough out of the city to visit Wayne Manor. Playing along wouldn't bother me, but it would be a frustrating distraction.

No. It's not working.

I have drugs that can knock me out when I need sleep. I developed them after Roxy Rocket dosed me with a stolen amphetamine derivative that made sleep impossible. But there are side effects, it's not as restful as natural sleep and there are problems with continual use.

Relaxation exercise, then.

I sit in the middle of my bedroom floor, hands on my knees and eyes closed.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Floating in a void.

Outside the void is chaos. Inside the void is nothing but my mind. Everything that is chaos is rising from my mind and joining the chaos outside of the void. Feel them float away and think of them no-.

"Husband?"

"Hr?"

I'm face down on the floor, laying in a fetal position. There's drool on my cheek and on the carpet.

Mr. Atom was right.

I push myself up, trying to assess how alert I am. It feels like I got about two hours, enough to function but nothing like enough to be fully recovered.

"Talia." She's in costume, minus the cowl and mask. No injuries that are immediately obvious. No outward sign that she's concealing one. "What time is it?"

"Seven in the morning."

The robot won't let me back into the cave for another three hours at the absolute minimum. And while I could function for a while as I am now, it wouldn't last. But I'm still sleepy enough that I should be able to rest normally. I stand, and walk towards our bed.

I want to ask how the city is. But there isn't anything I can do immediately to undo everything that's wrong with it, and if there was an emergency she would have told me.

"Wake me in four hours."

I put my face into my pillow without looking at her face. She knows the situation, and she knows me. I-.

She puts something down on the pillow next to me. I turn my head slightly to look at-.

"From Doctor Mist. A Dream Catcher. It should ward off even the Anti-Life." I feel her gentle hands on my back. "Rest, Husband. The world will be here when you wake."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
07:01 GMT -5

"Robin."

And there's Mister Atom. I know he's not in the Justice League's computer network, but he gets notifications whenever anyone does anything. And if he wants to talk to you, you're not getting anything done until he's done. And I get it: he's one of not many people who are immune to the Anti-Life, so he has to check up on the rest of us. Doesn't mean it's not annoying. And if I'm annoyed-

"Hey, Atombot."

-then I'm gunna annoy him right back.

Not my best work, but… I'm not feeling it, right now.

"Robin."

And the problem with Mister Atom is that he will just keep saying my name until I give him the response he's looking for. He won't get bored, and because of how his voice control works he's not getting distracted from everything else he's supposed to be doing.

One time I tried to keep it up, and he kept up with me for two hours. I gave up when Wally told me to knock it off.

"Mister Atom."

He doesn't look happy. His face can't move or anything, but there are really subtle tells in his posture. I don't actually know if he can be happy-happy, but he sometimes gets… 'Less annoyed' when humans do what he thinks they're supposed to.

"Your father worked himself to exhaustion this morning. I require you to speak with him and attempt to persuade him to avoid doing so again."

"Ah… That ship's kinda sailed. Batman's… That just how he is."

"Incorrect. Batman's neurosis decreases substantially in your presence. Your input alone increases the chance of him changing to a healthier behavioural pattern by thirteen percent."

"Just thirteen percent?"

"Batwoman is already working on him."

I pulls a face. "Oh, ew. I don't need to know-."

"Not sexually. Most humans respond well to the physical presence of people they trust. Simply by being close to him, Batwoman is making it easier for him to get rest."

"Oh." That's-. I mean, yeah, they're married, and-.

"Though you make a good point. I will raise the issue of their mating behavior with her later. I do not have a good understanding of the psychological effects of human mating. In fact, it may be best if we discuss Batman management as a group."

No. No.

"When can you return to the Batcave?"

Double-no.

"Whenever you're planning on having that talk?"

"Good. I-."

"After that."

"That is awkward. If you are not present, the resulting plan may require your absence from particular rooms or buildings at times not convenient to you."

"I'll cope. Look, can I start work now, or-?"

Mr. Atom… Kind of… Twitches.

"Thank you for participating in the trial of my 'sense of humor' program. If you have any feedback, please-"

"Ya-huh?"

"-send it to my office by e-mail. Sense of humor now disengaged. Returning computer terminal to your control."

"W-why?"

"So that you can work."

"Why did you pick now to get a sense of humor?!"

"I have not. I have a separate program based on my analysis of human behavior-"

"That's not the point!"

He got me! Wally's gunna hear about this later, and then I'm never gunna hear the end of it!

"-which I occasionally allow to guide my speech in order to improve my emotional fulfilment quotient. Analysis of positive-."

Oh.

"You make jokes, because… It keeps the Anti-Life out."

"If it did not, I would postpone my research. Your update."

A second holoscreen pops up, showing troop movements and-.

"That's not right."

"The figures shown are accurate."

"I mean, it doesn't match what Mannheim's been doing up until now."

"Yes." New numbers appear. "Consider the demographic data."

"Okay, so he's given up attacking cities for now. The countryside is handling the Anti-Life broadcasts better than the cities, and he hasn't got enough Justified to control food distribution directly."

"Build-up of personnel-."

"He's planning on going to Gotham? He must know that isn't gunna work. If he moves an army, we'll grab them and free them. If he sends Justified, it'll be harder, but we'll still take them down. Mistress controls everyone who's Anti-Lifed, so he can't just throw local people at us…"

"Yes. All cities are now under someone's control. League-affiliates control a minority. Mannheim directly controls a minority. Most are ruled by dominant personalities who have internalised the Anti-Life. In the case of Gotham, Mistress."

"We destroy broadcasters as fast as he puts them up. He can't spread like that outside of the places he already controls. Does he want to make a deal or something?"

"Apokolips is ruled by Darkseid. However, senior New Gods still retain a high degree of agency."

Yeah. I mean, Canis has been loving this whole thing, and Barda-.

"So it's not just about making a deal. He wants to find out if he can control people through other Anti-Lifed leaders."

"Attempts to enlighten people in cities so affected have been less effective than attempts to enlighten people in cities that aren't, to a statistically significant degree. The difference can not be explained merely by the difference in their material conditions. Once Anti-Life saturation reaches a critical mass, it is self-sustaining."

"So why hasn't he done it before now?"

"Unknown. I speculate logistical issues."

"But if he goes himself…"

We'll know where he is. Attacking Mannheim isn't exactly easy when his bodyguards all have Apokoliptian weapons and his tower is made of Apokoliptian super-materials. But Gotham isn't. Can he just take Finality Man with him? I mean, yeah, he can, but if we know where they both are we can do a whole lot of missions that we can't do when we don't.

"So what's the plan?"

"It would be helpful if your team could infiltrate Mistress's coterie, and provide information on events. More information on her control techniques would improve our understanding of Anti-Life compliant society. More information on her interactions with Mannheim would allow me to model what happens when he repeats the process with other cities."

"Yeah." Because why wouldn't he? "I'll talk to Kaldur."

 

[Mr Zoat]

November 3rd, 1999
8:00 MDT

Right on the dot.

I hear the keys before General Rinaker actually makes it onto the stage for the briefing. It's kinda funny seeing displacement activity in a guy like that; it's the only thing about him that deviates from the perfect g-man image he-.

My eyes widen as Ling walks in behind him. On crutches. His left leg is in plaster and there's a sterile dressing on the left side of his face. And from the way he's moving, I think he's got other injuries under his uniform.

"Yesterday morning, oh one hundred hours local time, a team under the command of Agent Ling was dispatched to intercept a vampire arms shipment."

An image appears on the screen, docks-. Signage is in English, the way the cars are parked suggests they drive on the left. People are opening and unloading a shipping container. No signs of vampire poison, but plenty of people work for vampires without knowing that the boss is literally a snake. Security seems… Light, for something important.

The image splits in four, showing feeds from the body cameras of the agents taking part in the raid. We see them move, hear Ling shout at everyone to surrender, see them dive for cover as the agents open fire-.

The cameras cut out.

"All cameras in the area were destroyed. We only have this much footage due to it being automatically backed up to the command vehicle, which has EMP shielding."

"Um." Fitz raises his hand. "Do the agents have EMP shielding? Because it doesn't look like Ling does."

"We were attacked." Huh. Usually Ling only sounds that angry when he's talking about me. He steps forwards and winds the images back. "The dock workers tried to flee, but we had all of the exits covered."

He brings up a new image, showing their positions… Yeah, I gotta agree with Ling. I can't see any way for them to get out of there without shooting their way through a squad plus their support vehicle, and that isn't easy.

"Some went for their concealed weapons, as we threw stun grenades and then moved in to mop up. I underestimated them."

Sh'lainn nods. "Did the vampires get the drop on you?"

"No. The Green Knight did."

Sh'lainn starts in surprise. "The Green Knight?"

Ah… Arthurian legend. And not one I've read up on. I think he got Sir Gawain to cut his head off, survived, then gave him a year to live. But I might just be remembering a movie. There's nothing about a Green Knight in any Alliance files I've read.

Ling's eyes focus on her. "A glowing green man in 16th century figure plate armor, riding a glowing green horse. He rode out of the sea and attacked us. Our grenades didn't affect him and our guns couldn't pierce his armour."

"You sure it wasn't a hologram-?"

"No, Agent Logan, it wasn't a hologram." He looks down at his leg and bangs his plaster-covered heel against the floor. "He broke my leg with a mace, defeated my men and assisted all of the targets to escape."

Perrera frowns. "What's the exposure risk?"

Rinaker catches his keys. "This may be beyond our ability to fully conceal."

Fitz actually looks offended. "Hey, now, I don't mean to toot my own horn here-"

"An entire squad of Alliance soldiers are in the custody of the London Metropolitan Police, and most of their equipment was delivered to the British Ministry of Defence."

"-but okay that's a tricky one."

I frown. "The Ministry of Defense?"

"An unusual move for the vampires, but not entirely unprecedented. While we have contacts in most governments, the Alliance is a secret organisation. Very few officials have knowledge of our existence or activities. If only a small number of individuals had access to Alliance equipment, all that would happen is that they would be given a choice between signing the Official Secrets Act or spending the rest of their lives in prison. But things have moved beyond that. Dozens of people have seen examples of our vehicles switching between disguise and combat modes, and while I don't doubt the integrity of our agents, things will become difficult if the British police are able to successfully identify any of them."

Perrera nods. "There's no way that they won't realise what they are, even if they don't know who they are. And if they think that a foreign country is carrying out anti-terrorist activities on their soil, they're going to start calling in ambassadors."

I nod. So wandering into the station with fake documents claiming they all have diplomatic immunity might work, but it'll cause a diplomatic incident. And make the US government start looking at things on their end. I haven't gone peeking into everyone's files, but I hear a lot of American accents around the base, and most of them probably have a service history. All the British police need to do is send the US embassy mug shots and they will get IDed.

Sh'lainn's frowning. "And the Green Knight did all that? Without being spotted?"

"Possibly." Another key-flip. "Or possibly he left the area immediately and that was done by his associates. Since we have no information on his motives or affiliation, it would be premature to say. But we need our agents released, and we need our equipment either recovered or destroyed."

Wait.

"What happened to the vampire weapon shipment?"

"Long gone, along with the people we IDed. Agent Trueblood will be leading a separate team to follow up on that."

"But if the Green Knight's working with them, won't he be where they are?"

"It's certainly possible. Which is why his team will be carrying heavier weapons and won't be taking prisoners, but that isn't your concern."

Perrera frowns. "How… Aware, is the British government? If the police just think that a gang shot up the docks, then they probably won't call the Home Office until they get an ID. If we set up fake IDs and tell the agents what they are, we can get them released on bail and then have them disappear."

Fitz looks amused. "Hey, I liked Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels as much as the next guy, but the British police get real serious when guns are involved. Private gun ownership isn't really a thing there, and… They're not gunna be all that eager to let them out at all."

Rinaker flips his keys again. "Work on your plan on the way to London. This needs to be done quickly. Dismissed. Agent Ling, get back to medical."

We file out, Trueblood heading towards the barracks while the rest of us heading for the hanger. This won't be the first time I've planted data for the Alliance, or the first time I've broken into a government facility. Not sure who we can finger without making things worse. Dissident Irish Republicans?

And Agent Ling… Something tells me that it might be a good idea to take a look a the docks. Plasma bolts don't leave the same marks as bullets, and unless there's a good explanation their scene-of-crime officers will notice the difference. And vampire weapon transfers are almost always overseen by an actual vampire. There not being one there… Doesn't fit.

"Nick…" Sh'lainn looks pensive. "There's something about the Green Knight. I've… Heard of him."

"Yeah?" Fitz grins. "Is he a guy-banshee? Do we finally get to find out what banhees look like?"

"… No. I don't know what he is, but… The stories I heard didn't have anything bad to say about him. And most banshees aren't all that fond of outsiders."

I frown. "Would Queen Mab have a way to get in contact with him?"

"If we ever had a way to send messages to him, it hasn't been used for a long time. And I don't think she'll be too keen on me showen my face around there."

I raise my right eyebrow. "How long is a long time?"

She pointedly looks away. "Quite a while."

"Any idea why he's working with the vampires?"

She shakes her head. "No. That doesn't match the stories at all."

Perrera glances at me. "Figuring out that isn't our job, Logan."

"No. But that doesn't mean it's not a good idea."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
08:23 GMT -5

Short straw duty.

I sigh as I knock on Canis's door. Because some people are immune to the clinical depression field because they're so… Spiritually developed, or whatever. But we get the guy who's immune because he likes it.

"Canis! We've got a meeting!"

I hear his dog get up. I can hear it wagging its tail, which… I think that's because it knows what I smell like and not because it likes clinical depression too. The Justice League's research seems to say that animals aren't directly affected, but I don't think we'll really know until mating season. Pets do better for the same reason that pet owners do, and with farm animals there's not a lot of difference.

I wait a few more seconds, and think about whether I should knock again. Dr. Mist passed around Dream Catchers, but I didn't see Canis pick his-.
ECSTATIC JUBILATION!
The door slides open, and Canis… Looks like he's been working out? He's smiling, and there's sweat on his face. Actually, he looks kinda-.

Did I just catch him j-? No. Not thinking it. Not thinking it.

"Kid Flash. We have a mission? Another broadcaster to take down?"

Because he's the only one on the team who can get close without getting overwhelmed. Superboy could handle it, but… His heat vision kinda takes out the whole block.

"Not this time. We're heading to Gotham. Mannheim's going there-"

He grins like he just got real excited.

"-and we're going to spy on him when he does."

Canis nods, and… I don't know what he was hoping for. I don't exactly get why he didn't go over to Mannheim when this all started, but he hasn't held back when we've fought regular soldiers or the Justified.

"It will no doubt prove instructive."

"Can I..? Ask you a question?"

Brute looks around and sniffs at me, then goes back to his water bowl.

"You want to know why I do not serve Mannheim."

"Well… Yeah. Darkseid's obviously cool with him… You always said that Darkseid's your… Y'know-."

"My master."

I.. nod. "So what's up with the whole… Thing."

Canis shrugs, like he doesn't think it's a big deal. "Darkseid has not ordered me to serve this… Human. So I fulfil the last orders I received. The Anti-Life makes it easier to… Perceive them."

"But he's basically Darkseid in a human-suit. Isn't it the same thing?"

He looks at me like I just let off in an elevator.

"No. Darkseid has clearly touched him, but that is all that it is. There is so little of substance to the souls of most humans that-"

"Thanks, Canis."

"-the fleeting contact has turned him into something more." He sounds really contemptuous. "He is no more Darkseid than your shadow is you. No, no more than your footprint is you, than someone who wears your old shoes is you."

"Oh. Good, 'cause my last set of boots went in a charity auction."

Canis gets that distant look he gets when someone gives him an idea.

"Yes. He is Charity Auction Darkseid."

I… I don't know what to say to that. I mean, I know I never want to meet Retail Darkseid, but after… What Uncle Barry said about Apokolips, and what OL said about Darkseid… I kinda knew that anyway.

"So, are you..? Ready?"

Canis nods and grabs his mega rod. "Let us meet."

I step away from the doorway, and he strolls out with Brute right behind him.

And it-.

Okay, look, I'm not saying that I want everyone to be as stressed out as I am. It's just that most people are… Stressed out and depressed by this. Even the ones who are immune to the direct effect of the broadcast aren't exactly turning cartwheels about human civilisation only carrying on because no one's got the motivation to finish it off.

But Canis is like this is normal. I think he's actually more relaxed than he was when the world was still working.

I've gotta ask…

"Is this..? Normal for you?"

"I've lived in this mountain since-."

"No, I mean… The Anti-Life… Thing."

"I was born on Apokolips, where Darkseid's power is absolute and his nature manifest in all things and people. Be glad that you have the privilege of experiencing it while still yourself; few do."

"I can't imagine what that was like for you."

"Much like this, but I was smaller and weaker. And I had fewer friends."

"So this is better."

"It is beneficial. I do not think I would have formed properly here. And I would likely never have known the glory of Darkseid."

"So all the misery and horror and the inability to feel anything… Good?"

"Kid Flash, the human species has access to dozens of different forms of recreational drugs. Do you not?"

"Yeah?"

"Depressants, stimulants and hallucinogens of all kinds. Some adversely affect your health, for a short duration, a long duration or permanently. Other don't, and once the buzz fades they leave you as you were before."

"Not what the PSAs say, but… So what?"

"Have you ever consumed any?"

"No? I've never had-. I mean, aside from the… Speed formula."

"Your life has been more violent than that of most humans from your home city."

"Yeah, I-." Wait, does he mean, like, anxiety medication? Or some kind of sleep-aid? I guess that a place like Apokolips probably doesn't have drug laws. "I haven't needed anything."

"But you know that they exist. You could take such things."

"I don't think my parents would like it, but, sure. It's possible."

He turns his head back to smile at me.

"Then you understand. A world without Darkseid is like being consumed by narcotics, insulating you from the true reality we all live in but too frequently ignore. It is childish and foolish to prefer it…" He shrugs. "But perhaps it is not so bad to be a little childish sometimes."

I just… Stop. I stop in the corridor and stare after him.

That's-.

That's just so totally…

Messed up.

But I don't think he's lying. I think that's how he actually sees things. And if this keeps up…

A whole lot more people will see things that way when it's over.

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
08:53 GMT -5

"Recognized, Match, B Two Five."

A flash of light, then I'm in a Gotham back alley blinking spots out of my eyes. It's not that I can see zeta radiation-. Though I can. It's more that I see all the other radiation, and then the techniques I use to stop myself getting blinded by all the colors and shapes mean that when it stops and I'm in a street somewhere, the contrast of the new much more simple lights makes it like a normal human just walked out of somewhere with blinding lights and into a pitch black room.

Superman said he didn't really find it a problem. I don't know if that's because he grew up normally like this, or if there's… Something left over from Cadmus that means I can't. Guess I'll find out in a few years.

There are a couple of zeta tubes in Gotham, but the one Artemis usually uses got spotted by Mistress's gang last month. They didn't do anything to it except watch it, but that amounts to pretty much the same thing. The clothes I'm wearing should let me fit in, though we've noticed that people who've… Let the Anti-Life in and.. not killed themselves, can generally notice when they're talking to someone who isn't… Who hasn't gone that far. And we know that because in a lot of places the people in charge send teams out to kidnap them so they can break them.

Mistress hasn't really done that. Might be because she used to be a good person. Or it might be because she figures that Gotham's going to do that for her.

I mean, something about this place was driving people crazy-.

I spot a security patrol. Four Anti-Lifed people under Mistress's control, wearing handcuffs double cuffed around their left wrists. Other than that they're just wearing gang clothes… One of them looks like he used to work for the Joker, but the rest look… 'Normal'. No sign they're afraid of me, or even bothered about a potential outsider being on 'their' street.

I tap my communicator, telling them it's not clear to come through. Until the enforcers move away, the rest of the team will have to come in through Wayne Manor. And then I walk over to them.

Like I'm walking to the chopping-.

Huh. Been a while since I've felt like that in a city without a transmitter. Robin was right about people broadcasting it without help.

"Hey."

Four sets of eyes staring at me. They're armed, but they don't have anything that could hurt me. I'm not even sure if open carrying is illegal in Gotham or not, but if it isn't then they're not actually breaking the law.

"Worm."

One thing people don't know about Superman is that he's a great actor. Even when you know that he's Clark Kent, he acts like a totally different guy. Except when he's around his parents and he acts like himself. But it's not genetic or anything. He had to study to learn how to do that. I haven't. I can fit in most of the time, but I know I don't respond to situations that would be dangerous to a normal guy in the way normal guys do. I probably should be nervous about talking to them, but I'm not.

Not that they're reacting to it. I take a quick look at the electrical activity in their brains, and it's… It's zen-like, like they're perfectly fine with whatever's happening around them. Or to them.

"Hey, can you..?"

They keep staring at me. That's probably intimidating to normal people.

"Tell me..? What does Mistress want?"

They stand a little straighter when I say her name.

The clown guy's eyes narrow a little. "What do you mean, worm?"

"Mistress rules the city."

"And you better remember it."

"So what does she want to do with it? What does she want us to do?"

"Surrender yourself to her."

"Like, just go to wherever she-."

I see his fist coming a mile away, and I turn my head with the punch so he doesn't break all his fingers.

"No, worm. You have felt the despair. The desolation."

"Yeah, that's… That's why I'm asking, man. You guys… You guys look like you're fine, so… Is that it? We just..? We do what she says-."

"You do not understand."

The clown points down the street, where there's a-.

Someone killed themselves by sitting in a car while it filled up with exhaust fumes. The body isn't fresh.

"Attachment is the root of all pain. Ego. Self. That man killed himself because he saw how flimsy his pathetic self was and couldn't cope. He fought the truth. He fought Mistress."

"So she killed him?"

"So he rejected her by ending his own life, rather than accept truth and transformation. It was the realisation that he wasn't what he thought he was and his attachment to that which killed him."

"So just… Don't be attached?"

"It's not that simple." He takes off his purple top hat and waves it at me. "I used to work for the Joker, you know?"

"I… I guessed..?"

"He liked keeping his people off-balance. One time he gave a guy a gag cigar. Blew his head right off. At the time it scared the shit out of me, but I needed the money. And it was kind of funny when it happened to someone else."

Man, Gotham sucks.

"And not funny when it happened to you. But after a while, it was just part of life. Not really worth talking about. One time, Joker was pissed about something and pointed a gun at my face… I just didn't react. He didn't like that so much."

"He shot you?"

"No. Said there wasn't any point. But right it that moment, when the gun barrel was an inch from my eye? I wasn't scared or angry. I wasn't thinking about all the things I could have done. I wasn't thinking anything except 'huh, okay'."

That's… Messed up. Most of Joker's henchmen are just regular criminals or people who are desperate and out of work.

"And now… It's like that, all the time. If Mistress pointed a gun at my face, and pulled the trigger -or didn't- I wouldn't think much of anything either. Or if she told me to walk out into traffic. Or eat my own intestines. 'Huh.' 'Okay.'"

One of the other henchmen nods. "It's inspiring, really. He got that far before Mistress even took over."

"But how do you get like that? I mean-."

"You just… Get used to it. To not mattering. To just… Being, as part of Mistress."

Four near-identical nods.

"I don't think I get-."

The clown draws his pistol-

The guy he's pointing it at smiles. "Huh."

"I get it-!"

"Okay."

-and the clown shoots him in the head.

There's no particular expression on his face as his body falls over. The other two don't look bothered, either. On their faces or in their brains.

Damn it. I could probably have stopped him, but then my cover's blown and there's nothing to stop them killing someone else when I'm not here. Which is what usually happens when someone from the Justice League tried talking to these people.

"That-."

"It's a demonstration. For you, and for whoever you're asking for. Do you want to learn more?"

If I say 'yes' then he'll probably shoot one of the others, and then himself. The last one will report back to whoever's in charge…

I don't need to know what they know that badly.

"I-. I think I'm good. Ah, thanks."

"Then you're not ready for Mistress. Scram."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
09:24 GMT -5

It's morning. We're here in the morning, in the open, and this… Should be a school day. Except there's nothing happening, even at the good schools. Even if the teachers turn up, people don't want to teach. Or get taught.

That's not exactly how it is in places where the Anti-Life hasn't taken over. Wally's still going to school, and so are Conner and M'gann. Mom… Hasn't really said.. anything, but I'm studying in my own time to try and keep up. I could get a transfer, but-.

"Hey… Artemis?"

I look over at Dick for a moment, then go back to watching the Anti-Lifed thugs.

"Yeah?"

"Was this how..? Gotham used to be?"

"How d'you mean?"

"My family travelled around a lot. I'd been on three continents before I ever came to Gotham. And I was pretty young. Even when I started as Robin, I didn't really know how bad things were."

I frown. "Didn't Batman have you following him around every night?"

"Hardly. Training was every day. Fighting crime was one night a week. Maybe three if there was a holiday. I saw plenty of crime, but I didn't know how representative what I saw was of the whole of the city."

He glances at his wrist computer, checking the feeds from the cameras he's planted.

"And I've read up on things since then, but it's not the same as seeing it. Do you remember?"

"Dad didn't encourage me to socialise." But that's not a helpful answer. "No. Thanks to Mistress, there's only one gang in town. Back then, any of the gangs could be attacked by any of the other gangs. So walking around on the street first thing in the morning? That wasn't really something they did. Not outside the middle of their territory. And they walk different."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. These guys… They don't care who sees them."

I nod. "They don't-." Damn it. "They didn't used to walk like that after Batman cleaned up the city, because the cops started doing their jobs and they could get arrested. They didn't walk like that in the old days because the cops were paid off by one of the mobs and they didn't like it when people committed crimes without asking permission first."

"Were there this many?"

"Ah…" I try remembering, but I wasn't all that old either. "I don't know. I think there were more other people around."

People aren't really living. They're just going through the motions. I've looked in on a few families when I visit Mom, and it's kinda like they're robots. Not modern robots. Complicated wind-up ones from the sixties, where they stumble around the place without knowing why they're doing anything, and if they're even a little at the wrong angle they'll trip over the furniture.

We're already seeing signs of malnutrition. Even if people aren't killing themselves, they're not taking care of themselves.

And on that subject…

"How are they managing the food supply?"

"Some of Poison Ivy's henchpeople got infected, and they set up some city farm plots. But food doesn't get produced all the time. Harvesting crops in the US doesn't happen for months. It's mostly imports that have shut down, and that was way down anyway after the Sheeda attacks."

"What about interstate trucking?"

"You can order stuff. We're still getting oranges in Happy Harbor. You have to get really demanding about it, but once things are moving, they tend to stay moving." He nods. "If we don't get this fixed inside a month, that'll get worse."

Another… Month..?

"Hey."

He's… Put his hand on my arm. I didn't notice-.

"If we can't get it fixed inside a month we can always do what OL said."

"Move to another planet?" Dick nods. Like a lot of things Paul says, that was somewhere between 'funny' and 'terrifyingly serious'. "But if you're right and people can be broadcasters, wouldn't we just bring it with us?"

"Don't worry about that. With a new colony, we wouldn't have enough food for everyone anyway."

Heh.

"Oh, that's totally wrong."

"No, Mister Atom checked the figures. Plants need all kinds of soil microbes, and if you have to introduce them to a new planet, that takes… A while. We'd actually have to raid about fifty sewage treatment plants for raw material."

I gag.

Right… Fertiliser, and microbes…

"Mister Atom was pretty sure we could fit it all in two oil tankers. We'd just have to reinforce them so Superman could carry them."

"Hah!" I can't help smiling at that image. "Okay. Thanks."

"I got pranked by a robot with no sense of humor this morning. I feel like I need to up my game."

"Mister Atom pranks people?"

"He's got a program for it. Oh, here we go."

I lean over to look at his computer screen, and I see the truck doing deliveries for Mistress. She's set up a food-for-work program for anyone who can drag themselves over there. A lot of the people who take her up on that end up as part of her pseudo-Justified gang, and that's why we haven't wanted to risk getting too close.

Dick moves the screen so I can see its relative position. Okay. I notch a tracking arrow and raise it. Check distance, check wind speed, and… Loose.

Two. One.

"Good shot, Arte. Clean contact."

This type of tracking arrow actually disintegrates after the tracker gets attached. At this time of day, there's no way they wouldn't notice a regular one. This has got a shorter transmitting range, but…

"Robin to Canis. You're good to have breakfast."

"I'm sure that dining with such lowlies will bring back many memories."

"Happy memories?"

"Can I kill and cook them over their own fires?"

"Ah, that's a no?"

"Then merely memories. Canis out."

I frown. "Are we sure this 'Mistress' chick even has an inner circle?"

"Anti-Life makes them loyal to her, but it doesn't give people skills they don't have. There's nothing in her personal history which shows that she knows how to run a gang or rule a city. Someone's helping her. But they're not big on phones, or we could just hack them."

"They don't have Apokoliptian technology, right?"

"They shouldn't, but we've IDed a lot of ex-henchmen with them, and there's a lot of old supervillain tech around Gotham."

"So they could have anything Batman's enemies had."

Dick nods.

"Great."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd November 1999
21:18 GMT

I watch as the… Goblin? Their bodies are shaped like chimpanzees, though their faces look more like a bat's. Have to check when I get back. The goblin working as a nurse checks the bandages on one of his wounded fellows. Alliance plasma weapons are designed to be significantly less lethal than they could be, but they stun people with electrical discharges and skin burns, and despite what mythology might suggest goblins aren't only vulnerable to iron.

I get a few glances in my direction, but by this point they've more or less decided to ignore my glowing green form.

I'm still not sold on the 'secrecy' angle, but I don't think these people would be inclined to trust a human at this point. A glowing green man who just beat up an Alliance platoon on the other hand… I appear to be accepted. Percival told me that he used to use a form like this for when he had to fight things, and a few of these people appear to remember those stories.

It's not just human myths, it seems.

"Do you think he can't talk, or he's just choosing not to?"

Another goblin with two vampire plasma pistols attached to his belt glances at a green-skinned female of… A species I don't recognise. Her dimensions are more human-standard than the shorter goblins, and…

And I'm checking her out, which is a lot easier to get away with when your face is concealed from external view by a glowing green helmet that doesn't obstruct your vision.

"I don't know. Have you tried asking him?"

"No, he just followed us..." The goblin straightens up a bit, and adjusts his flat cap before facing me. "Green man. We owe you our lives. Thank you."

I ball my right hand into a fist, then bring it over to the left side of my chest, over my heart. Incline my head slightly, then straighten and lower my arm.

"You've… Fought with the Alliance before?"

No, not like that. Monitored to get some idea of how they operate, yes. Stolen equipment, yes. Fought a platoon of their soldiers in the middle of a city, no. And last time Percival went out like this the founders of the Alliance hadn't been born yet.

But I don't respond. The less I do to let anyone know the truth, the better.

The goblin gives me a moment, then turns back to the green woman. "I'm leaning towards 'can't talk'. Some sort of robot, you think?"

"Titani automata are usually bigger. And less green. Maybe he just doesn't like trasgu."

"What's not to like about us?" The goblin widens his arms in a gesture of appeal, causing the nurse to glance his way.

"We're not exactly human-appealing, Reddy."

"Why would a robot care about that?"

The green woman takes a step closer, red eyes trying to peer past my glowing visor. "Maybe he's just shy."

Shy around attractive women? Well, reserved, yes, but I've spent the last three months doing intense physical exercise to prepare for this role and I'm feeling a little more confident in my own appearance than I used to.

She raises her right hand up to caress my helmet, an action which due to her relative shortness requires her to come right up to me.

"We are very grateful to you, sir knight. Those beastly Alliance soldiers might have done all sorts of things to us if you hadn't… Cut in."

I reach up with my left hand, take hold of her right and bring it to the area of my construct mouth guard, miming kissing it before releasing my hold.

"Failing to seduce a robot." The goblin-. Trasgu, I suppose, sneers. "We need to find a male of your species: that's just depressing."

Perimeter breach.

I jerk my head up, forcing the ring to show me the exterior of this Cold War era bunker. More Alliance soldiers, these ones carrying a greater number of plasma cannons. And since we're further away from population centres, they're using more of their mechs.

The green woman looks concerned. "What is it?"

I hold out my right hand, palm up, and generate a construct image of what I'm seeing. She gasps sharply, and looks to the trasgu for guidance.

"We can't fight that many. The back entrance?"

He looks at the wounded, who are wincing as they pull themselves to their feet.

"We'll have to. I'll set the charges."

"Those things can fly. There isn't anywhere to-"

There's an explosion outside as the mechs target their trucks. Most of their equipment was already offloaded, but there's no way to transport most of it now. This bunker isn't in official use any longer, and we're in an isolated location, so in theory they could just collapse the entrance and then come back later…

Ring, contact local police with alert.

They won't be able to do anything, but the Alliance seems to avoid killing regular police units. Another set of witnesses might force the Alliance to pull out. Or it might not.

Thing is, it's still the late nineties. It's phone communication only, and they've got no capacity to receive video transmissions.

Phone call in progress.

But… That's not going to be enough. They could just stun regular police. This is Britain, I don't think they even routinely issue tasers or CS sprays.

Contact the closest police armed response unit. Fake dispatch orders.

Orders fabricated. Emergency dispatch triggered.

That will create an awkward situation. They won't have anything heavy enough to damage the mechs, but an armed response unit will in theory be able to kill Alliance infantry.

I don't… Think they'll engage. The armed response unit will have records, and the moment they arrive on scene they'll radio their headquarters.

Reddy takes a moment to watch the wounded hobbling for the other exit, then draws his pistols. "Listen, Green Knight-."

I add the image of a shield to my self-concept and the ring responds, a tower shield with the green sigil on it shimmering into being. Then I march towards the front door.

"I was going to ask you to guard the retreat, but if you want to be the distraction I'm all for it. Knock 'em dead!"

Alliance plasma cannons have worse pulse confinement than the vampire version, and I know I can block those. But the Alliance are much more cavalier about maintenance and parts; they'll hose a target down and not worry about overheating and burnout because they can replace what they break more easily.

I hold out my right hand, and add a knightly arming sword to my self-concept. It's… A strange way to think, and a little disassociative. But it works.

Other goblins pull back from the front entrance as the Alliance mechs open fire. I'm a little surprised that they're not using breaching charges to open the door, but maybe they just assumed that we'd booby trap it and it would be easier to dig us out? The only other alien here is a hulking golem, vampire plasma cannon in one hand and the other a bare fist. He..? Looks down at me as I prepare to charge.

"You? Okay. The way I see it, we just need to take out their mechs. No way they can keep up without transport. After that, it's just about keeping them on us for as long as possible."

For a moment, I'm… Touched, both by his devotion and what he's assumed about me. I don't like these people well enough to die for them.

But…

I think I might find out whether I'm willing to kill for them. And if human history is anything to go by… I probably am.

I hold up my shield hand to show him my fingers, and count down to zero.

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd November 1999
21:22 GMT

Some of the fire falls off as I storm forward, probably them trying to assess what caused the door to move. But-

"Maintain fire!"

-my shield and the golem's body are still taking a lot of fire. I sight the mech to my left and charge in that direction, my eye slit fixed on the Alliance pilot. They spot me and try to back up-

"Target the aliens! Fire team two, overwatch!"

-while maintaining fire, but it's nothing that my shield can't handle. There isn't much cover here, but the woodlands are blocking some of the Alliance operatives' lines of fire, and the second mech pilot appears to be torn between shooting the entrance, me, or the golem. The tilt of the gun makes it look like he's decided on 'me', then a purple beam from the golem's plasma cannon striking his canopy causes him to reconsider.

Closed the distance and I bring my sword up, clearly picturing in my mind the blade slicing through the mech's leg armour, needing it to, refusing to accept even the possibility of it failing. The blade responds by lengthening and shining as I swing it, getting under the angle of depression of the mech's main gun and striking it hard in the left shin.

The metal parts.

The metal parts.

The metal parts.

My sword pierces the armour and the mechanisms beneath, shearing through the leg and causing the mech to lurch sideways. It jams its stump into the ground as it tries to remain balanced, and either the pilot is on the ball or the computer is because it bends its right leg to try and remain level. Fire from other sources slacks off as Alliance soldiers want to avoid friendly fire, but since they're well trained they use the opportunity to reposition. I use the opportunity to change direction and cut into the right leg.

The metal parts.

The metal parts.

The metal parts.

There's a shower of sparks as the shin is severed, the mech overbalancing and collapsing onto its front, cockpit slamming into the ground! I stop, turn to face the rear-mounted engine unit and stab, piercing the armour and wrecking the generator and battery.

Try moving that before the legitimate authorities arrive.

Ugh!

I'm knocked aside by a plasma beam-. Continuous beam. The only way to really-.

I clamp down on that thought. My armour cannot be pierced, and I get my shield in the way as I recover. Two Alliance operatives dash out of cover to recover the stunned mech pilot, and since a wounded man does more to slow a formation than a dead one I don't interrupt.

Across the glade the golem makes it to the other mech and grabs the leg, heaving it off the ground and hurling it in the direction of the closest concentration of Alliance soldiers. They rapidly abandon cover, throwing themselves out of the way as the mech comes down with a colossal thud!

The man who shot me ceases fire as smoke rises from his gun. He tosses it aside with a grimace before drawing some sort of baton weapon. Yes, that's why you don't fire them like that. He gestures, and another squad-.

He's the agent in charge? Right then.

Head down and shield up I charge towards him. Plasma fire from my right slams into my shield, which turns it aside or absorbs its energy without difficulty because anything else is inconceivable. Not much on my left: the other side of the Alliance formation is occupied with the golem.

I raise my sword and point it at the lead agent, in a clear challenge. He snarls.

"Another alien mercenary."

He takes in the damage that the plasma weapons pointing at me aren't doing, and the fact that he's got about five seconds before I'm on him.

"Fire team, four and five, pull back and set up overwatch. Other squads, prepare to retreat."

His offhand moves, and I crouch further behind my shield as the plasma grenade goes off just ahead of me, shoving me back slight-.

And he's there, off-hand grabbing the edge of my shield and right hand swinging his baton at my head! I plant my feet to resist his charge and swing my sword at his wrist. He pulls back his swing, catching the tip of my sword in the strongest part of his maul's plasma field-

The sword remains whole and I remain standing strong.

The sword remains whole and I remain standing strong.

-for a moment until the edge of the sword shears through one of the containment prongs, causing it to explosively discharge! He's knocked back, right hand blackened and burned and-.

WOOMP!

Agh-! He dropped a grenade as he fell, this one making it under my shield where I raised it to hold him off. My armour is fine, my legs are fine, but I'm off my feet and he's pulling back.

I pull my legs back under me and stand, walking out of the smoke and dust. No need to chase them down. Them leaving is probably the best solution-.

The mech I wrecked explodes! That shouldn't-? Scuttling charges. They blew it to disguise what it is. It'll still look suspicious as heck-.

One of the Alliance squads shoot me, but they're using the smaller plasma guns and my armour is fine. I could pursue, but I think that the police have enough prisoners for the moment and I don't really-.

"Knight!" I jerk my head around to look at the golem. He looks battered, but he doesn't appear to be bleeding and nothing is obviously broken. "They got past me!"

I turn and run towards the bunker entrance, the broken ground solidifying under my feet as I cover the distance in seconds. I didn't hear an order, did they just take the initiative?

Their sternguard steps out of cover to swing his baton at me but I just shield-charge him and slam him into the wall with a crack. Then I run for the stairs and down, down and charge through the halls towards-.

"…vampires?! Where are the vampires?!"

Back into the medical room. The nurse is standing between an Alliance soldier and an injured faun in a wheelchair. He doesn't have a weapon.

The soldier's head jerks towards me, and his eyes widen slightly-.

His finger tightens-.

I lunge, sword outstretched, and run him through the heart.

He shudders, expression fading as his gun drops from nerveless hands. He looks directly into my visor, lips moving weakly…

Then his eyes roll back and-. And my sword slices its way out through his shoulder as his body falls to the ground.

…

I didn't-.

…

The sword disappears, and-.

Focus. I make eye contact with the nurse. I need to know if there's-.

"Thank you. I thought we were done for." He grabs the handles of the wheelchair and begins pushing the faun out of the bunker. "I didn't see any others in the bunker, but we can't hang around. And neither can you."

I crouch down, dismissing my shield as I roll the body onto its back and shut its eyes.

No. I suppose that I can't.

 

[Mr Zoat]

November 3rd, 1999
22:47 GMT

I look out through my binoculars at the airbase where the British government is keeping the Alliance's equipment.

"This isn't a research centre. I'd guess that they're holding it here because they don't know what to do with it and want to keep it somewhere secure. Which means that there are going to be a lot of people coming and going."

Next to me, Fitz lowers his binoculars and then clears his throat.

"Gentlemen, I-" I wince at his accent. I'm… Pretty sure that British people haven't actually sounded like that outside of Buckingham Palace since World War Two. "-am Doctor Nigel Fortescue. I hear you've got a rather rum project for me, what what?"

Perrera shakes her head. "We don't have their phone line and we don't have a radio intercept. Unless there really is a guy called Nigel Fortescue, they won't buy it for long enough."

"Nick…" I lower my binoculars and turn to face Sh'lainn. "I'm not seeing any vampires here."

She turns her computer around to face me, images of some of the people who were at the docks expanded. The thing about most alien species being able to disguise themselves as humans is that what they look like doesn't really mean anything. I look at her for an explanation.

"They're no' wearing the hologram projectors."

Perrera leans over and looks at the image for a moment before nodding. "The projectors have to be exposed in order to work. And the tail's still there. None of these people are moving like they've got to take tails into account."

"Okay." Fitz shrugs. "So they're not vampires. The vampire families run big companies. Can't be that hard to hire a moving company."

Sh'lainn frowns. "Would the vampires let uninfected humans handle their technology?"

I… That's a good question. I haven't seen any record of it in the Alliance database. Using humans to expand their personnel base seems like an obvious thing to do. The oni definitely do. Vampires?

Looks like Fitz and Perrera don't know, either.

"And there's another thing." Sh'lainn moves to a new video. "Watch this."

An Alliance agent fires at one of the dock workers-. Sh'lainn stops the image as the plasma bolt narrowly misses him, and-. It's like his whole body is in a funhouse mirror.

"You see this? I think this man is a faun. The power they use for their disguises doesn't cope well when there's a strong magnetic field nearby."

Perrera frowns. "Do vampires work with fauns?"

"About as often as banshees do."

"So…" Fitz frowns. "What are we saying? It wasn't vampires? Okay, but what does that change? They're aliens-. Ah. Present company accepted, no offence intended."

"Some taken."

"And they were smuggling guns."

I take out my pistol and hold it up.

"That's a very nice gun?"

"I don't have a British permit. And I don't remember declaring it when I crossed the border."

"Nick." Fitz leans over and wraps his arm around my shoulders. "Let me tell you something I learned in the CIA. Laws are things you punish other people for breaking."

I slip the gun back into its holster. Thing is, he's not entirely wrong. I knew that the Alliance rode roughshod over local law in order to protect the Earth from hostile aliens. But if we're working for… Governments, couldn't this be solved by a phone call? Someone's got to be in the know.

Fitz snaps his fingers. "Got it! Plane falls, everyone dies!"

"Ah." I frown, because if he's saying what I think he's saying, that could get a lot of people on that airbase killed. "If Trueblood's finished with the planes, we could fly one-."

"No, no, no. That just raises more questions. We need to figure out something where no one wants to ask anything."

I glance at Perrera, but she's… Smiling. No help there.

"Okay?"

"The airbase is on high alert, because it's a military base that's now holding a load of high-tech equipment. But they don't know that that's connected to the agents they're holding, otherwise they'd be in a military prison rather than a police cell."

I nod. They probably haven't tried getting fingerprints from the captured weapons yet, and while fingerprints are unique, actually matching a fingerprint on a surface to one on someone's finger is more an art than a science. If the London police haven't put their records on a searchable computer system yet…

"You see, sometimes… You get a prisoner you don't want to have as a prisoner."

…

Sometimes, I forget that Fitz used to be in the CIA. And that his honest, open face is just about the best asset he has for deceiving people.

Perrera tilters her head to the side a little. "Okay? And what happens to them?"

"Well, sometimes they end up in someone else's prison. We used to have friends in South America for that. And the Middle East. And sometimes it turns out that someone made a mistake and they were never prisoners in the first place!" He shrugs in mock helplessness. "What can you do? And sometimes you get a bunch of people on a plane… And there's an engine failure."

He shrugs, still smiling.

"These things happen."

Sh'lainn nods her head. "And that's why I don't trust those mechanical death-traps."

Ah. "So..?"

"There's nothing like prisoners suffering a mechanical failure related 'accident' to make everyone involved really forgetful. We bring the prisoners up here using Ministry of Defense documents, load 'em onto a plane and then fly them up. Then we do a mid-air transfer before dropping the plane on anything we want destroyed."

Perrera frowns. "What about the airmen on the base?"

"Oh, we can warn them. Tell them that the plane's coming down and they need to evacuate. Then the plane lands, and they call the Ministry to find out what went on… But there's no one there." He shrugs again. "They'll think it was an MI5 black bag operation. MI5 will say it wasn't, but… Of course they would."

Perrera shrugs. "We've used worse stories."

I nod. "That all sounds disturbingly possible. But we-."

The communicator goes off. Perrera gabs it.

"Agent Perrera. Go."

Trueblood's face appears. He looks pissed.

"The Green Knight is still active in the area. He is very resilient. He took fire from-."

He winces, and the camera moves to show me a medic working on his hand.

"From several plasma cannons without slowing down, and his sword cut through our mechs like they were made of aluminum foil. I've got seven wounded agents and one fatality, and the local police showed up just as we got out of the area of operation. Be careful, don't go anywhere alone and prepare to get out the moment he shows up."

Sh'lainn looks dubious. "Did you run into some fauns, by any chance?"

For an instant he looks angry, then he gets a hold of himself. "That's irrelevant. Trueblood out."

"So…" The screen deactivates and Fitz looks thoughtful. "I heard 'no vampires and good luck with the unstoppable knight'. Everyone else hear that too?"

I sag slightly, sighing. "Thank you, General Rinaker."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
11:13 GMT -5

"…impressed by how well these humans have adapted."

I keep trying to ignore Canis, focusing my hearing on the warehouse on the opposite side of the street. Mistress's gang drove their truck here after making their delivery, and I can hear the rattle of the back doors banging against the side of the truck as the shifting weight makes it rock back and forth. If I make a little effort, I can hear it as the metal of the engine contracts as it cools. I can definitely hear the heartbeats and footsteps of the people inside.

What I don't hear are the heartbeats of the people they drove here with the promise of work.

"Truly, when Great Darkseid cracks open this world's crusts to form firepits, they will make for fine lowlies."

I sniff. Fresh…

I've gotten a lot of experience in smelling… Bodies, since this started. Fresh bodies don't smell much different from living people, unless they lost control of their bowels when they died. Then they don't smell much different to someone with incontinence. Older bodies, I can tell roughly how long ago they died by how decayed they are. I didn't hear any shots, or…

Heard more people hanging themselves then-.

Canis flicks me in the forehead.

"Not yet! You are a warrior, and it is only fitting that you embrace the Anti-Life only at the peak of this world's despair."

I look him in the eyes. Should I thank him? He only did it because he thinks things are going to get worse, but… Mom would want me to. Because if he has normal human relationships, maybe that'll help him.

"Thanks."

He's already got his sketchpad out. He's-. Yeah, he's going to draw what my face looked like just then.

"Do not mention it."

I go back to looking at the warehouse. I didn't hear anything that I'd associate with them killing people. I can't smell any dead bodies. I didn't see any zeta radiation.

So where did the people go?

"Canis, is there any New God technology in there?"
Might Calls To Might.
He shakes his head. "No. What have you discovered?"

"Most of the people who went in disappeared."

"Is it a meat processing plant?"

"No, I'd smell that a mile away."

"A teleporter?"

"It's not a zeta tube."

"Or a boom tube. I would be astonished if it were a hush tube, but I suppose that some mightier New God might have allowed crumbs to fall from their plate." He frowns thoughtfully. "Speaking of crumbs, I do not think that the insignificant farms in this area would be enough to supply the food we saw doled out. Is the warehouse filled with vittles?"

I sniff again. There is a smell of food, but it's all traces from short term storage. It's nothing like strong enough for there the place to be full up. So… Maybe this is just where they store the truck? Can't smell grease or anything that might mean it's a workshop. I can hear the faint hum of electricity, but that doesn't really mean anything.

"Even if it is, there isn't enough for what they've been handing out."

"A curious fact." He sighs. "Loathe as I am to distract someone from following their passions… We are looking for the laughably-named Mistress. I doubt that she is here."

He's.. right. But something's off about this.

"It's not just about finding her. We need to find out everything about her operation. And this is weird."

"Match, neither of us are infiltrators. It is all I can do to stop myself marching up to one of these lowlies and just demanding her location. And I suspect that your first thought is to charge through the door and see for yourself."

Actually, my first thought was to tell Dick and see what he thinks. But if I had to investigate, yeah, that's what I'd do.

Kon's much better at this stuff than me.

Interesting how that doesn't make me feel worthless, like some things do. Kon being better at being a superhero than me is just a fact of life. Even if I'm more like our father physically, I haven't put the time in with the stuff that's not related to my powers.

I think-.

Wait.

That… Heartbeat. The vibrations…

"His heart's on the wrong side of his chest."

"Unusual, but one in twelve thousand humans has dextrocardia. Unless he needs surgery, I doubt that it matters."

"There's another one. And…" I frown. "The sounds… Aren't moving right."

"They echo wrongly for the internal space?"

I nod. "Yeah. I think there's some kind of a portal in there."

"That is curious. If we are agreed that charging in would not be wise… Perhaps we could volunteer at their next labor drive?"

"Sounds good. Let's-."

Another heartbeat, echoing… Wrong. On the right side of the owner's chest. And I remember…

Anti-matter universe. Their hearts are on the right. What the heck are those guys doing here?

"Something has occurred to you?"

"People from the anti-matter universe have hearts on the right. I just heard a second guy."

"And the chance of two people having such an abnormality in close proximity to one another is low." He frowns thoughtfully. "I wonder how easy it would be to preserve the circulatory system for display?"

I ignore him, listening as the truck accelerates… And then starts to sound like it's coming from a space that shouldn't be there. And then… Gone.

"The truck's gone. I think they're trading with the anti-matter universe."

"That might explain the food. Why would the Syndicate want people? Labor?"

"Maybe." I kinda lost interest in the file when I found out that I didn't have a duplicate. "But they're risking getting exposed to the Anti-Life."

Canis nods. "And Darkseid has not decreed their destruction. Is there an anti-matter Darkseid?"

"I dunno. But it would be a lot easier to move people to a parallel universe than to another planet."

"Would they want the companionship?"

"We can find an Earth no one's using. Where humans died out, or something. But we need to look after people, even if they're not looking after themselves. And the anti-matter universe isn't anything good."

"Then we shall meet up with Robin and plan our attack."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
12:44 GMT -5

"Yeah." I point my binoculars at the last warehouse. "They're not getting that food from in there."

Artemis is watching the readout from the tracker arrow, and thanks to Batman's training in body reading I hear the moment she gets surprised. A little change in how she's breathing and a slight change in how she's balancing.

"The truck's gone. Or they.. found the transmitter."

"Was there a damage alert?"

"No."

"Those transmitters aren't easy to damage. If someone found it, they wouldn't fry it with a plasma torch on their own van. They'd pull it off -which would send an alert telling you it lost its grip- and then try smashing it."

She nods. "And unless they hit it just right, that would send a damage notification before it cut out, right."

I try putting the binoculars on infrared mode, but the metal of the warehouse and the insulation effect of their clothes means that I can't see if their hearts are on the wrong side by heat patterns alone. Not from here, anyway.

"Those are just regular power lines. If they had enough power for some kind of portal, they'd need more than that, right?"

"You know I'm not literally Batman, right?"

"Ah, yeah?"

"So he might be an omnidisciplinary genius, but I'm still going to high school. We don't do dimensional physics until our junior year."

"We do?"

I actually lower the binoculars and eyeball her.

She shrugs defensively. "I thought maybe it was a special class. But… If there aren't enough cables, then the generator would have to be inside."

"Or on the other side."

But why would they open a portal, whoever they are? Blue Lantern and Ultraboy-.

Their hearts are in the right place. Gotta work that into a sentence.

So if it's them… Why? Blue Lantern wouldn't want anything to do with the Anti-Life-. OL wanted to evacuate the planet. So BL would… Also evacuate this planet to his planet, because…

No one's paying him in cash. Villain equipment? No. I mean, maybe, but he's giving Mistress food. He's paying her, not the other way around. Gotham… WayneCorps is keeping track of its most skilled workers. Frankly, most of the people they're getting aren't exactly high-skilled. They could be building up a workforce in secret…

No, wait. Take people out of a bad situation and they'll be grateful. Get them out of the effect-range of the Anti-Life, let them have a normal life again, and they're yours. BL might just get them all jobs working for the Syndicate. Employees who aren't known to the government. OL said that the Syndicate were moving their operations out of their US. They're having to build up their whole support base from nothing.

It makes sense, but that's assuming that it's the same Syndicate. Because OL also said that he had to fight some kind of nineties Justice League from a different parallel universe. So how do I know this isn't a different parallel anti-matter universe?

I don't.

Heck, for all I know they might just be clones of someone who has their heart on the right side.

And if it's not BL, who probably wouldn't do anything evil with them, then we need to know where they're going.

"We're going through… Whatever that is, aren't we?"

"If it turns out it's a giant mincing machine, no."

"Did someone have one of those?"

"Joker did once, but it was a stage prop. You went though, realised you were fine… Aaaand that's when the piranhas got you."

"That sounds-. Where is the Joker, anyway?"

"Arkham. Wayne Enterprises paid for supermax cells to get automated. And Batman has been making sure they all stay where they are."

"Are they affected?"

"Joker's been laughing less. Though that might just be some new kind of crazy he's cooking up. The rest aren't really doing better than anyone else."

Mr. Zsasz was trying to rub his tallies off, and Firefly refuses to look at anything burning, including the screen in his room that shows a fireplace as a kind of palliative. The worst is Two-Face. He hasn't argued with himself since this started, and he's been a lot more self-destructive. Since he wasn't in Arkham at the time we don't know exactly where Clayface is, but he… Well, he can't kill himself, so he'll probably turn up when it's all over.

Whoa, that's dark.

"Anyway, yeah, we need to get through. And since we don't know what's on the other side, we're going to have to join the volunteers."

"Won't they see that we're not as affected as they are?"

"Match walked right up to four of them, and they didn't care."

"Yeah, but letting them through the.. portal, or whatever…"

"They're moving people from somewhere with Anti-Life to somewhere without. I don't think they want them Anti-Lifed."

"So you think it's an actual evacuation, not just choice between slavery and the Anti-Life?"

"People who get Anti-Lifed make great slaves already. Mistress is clearly organising this, and she can already control them."

I shuffle back from the observation point and stand back up. Okay, I'm going to need to drop off anything that looks like Robin-gear. We already dressed to blend in-.

"Okay, this is gunna sound-. Could she be… Good?"

Artemis looks like she thinks I'm going to say that's stupid, but actually… That's more than a little possible. We -I- don't have a good read on exactly how Anti-Lifed people act. Mannheim's evil, because he started this and is trying to spread it, but the city bosses? They're mostly people who were evil before. And it-. Accepting the Anti-Life looks like it's easier if you were pretty nihilistic before it happened, but… People signed up with the Alliance of the Just because they wanted to do good.

Could Mistress just want to get people out?

"It's possible. Or she might just be smart enough to know that she can't feed everyone and getting rid of the rest just makes sense. Or that the broadcast effect works through the portal. I mean, whoever's controlling the portal is probably on the other side, and they must know that things aren't right here, but do they know why things aren't right? If she's sent her Justified through, then…"

"She might be trying to expand somewhere Mannheim can't reach."

"Or maybe she is trying to get them out. She used to be a travel agent."

Artemis snorts. "It's not like anyone wants to take tours of Gotham."

"Yeah. You think we should take Canis, or leave him here?"

"Canis in a new environment… Canis without supervision." She looks thoughtful. "I'd.. say… Have him try and get closer to Mistress. He fits in better, and the Justified are less likely to pick up on him being… Canis, than regular guards."

I nod. I think she's right.

I'm just worried about him getting on too well.

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
13:12 GMT -5

"You want work, worms?"

We talked about it, and Dick taking the lead would probably look wrong. He's still in the middle of a growth spurt and looks younger than he is. Mitchell can't look spooked convincingly. Not by physical threats. Even if he's not much tougher than Dick and me right now, we've both been in that sort of situation.

I shrug my right shoulder. "We want food and to be somewhere safe, so, yeah?"

The guy we're talking to used to be part of one of the Chinese street gangs. Now he's just standing around outside one of the Mistress-run food halls. Lunch was sandwiches made from long-life bread and cheese slices and most of the people who made it this far look like they were homeless before the Anti-Life.

Guess they were used to keeping going while feeling this way.

"There is nowhere that is safe."

"Why? Do we have to, like, join your weird religion or..? Whatever, first?"

"No. If you did then you would not want to leave and would be entirely inappropriate to send."

He looks at us for a moment longer and I start to get worried that he-.

Shit, I think this was one of the guys I busted before Ollie and Batman recruited me. I don't think he got a good look at me back then, but I-.

"Two things. Then you can go and wait in the truck with the others."

I look sullen, channelling how I used to feel when Dad did something like this.

"You want us to give up our weapons?"

He wrinkles his nose like he's just smelled the dog shit on his shoes. "No. Keep them if you like. Use them and you will certainly be killed so it doesn't matter to me."

"'kay, so, what?"

"This is one way. You will not come back."

"Why would we want to?"

"We were all worms, once. Crawling in the earth, with no comprehension of it. If exposure to the great universal truth only makes you want to run… That is cowardice."

"And sticking around in a crazy, starving city is bravery?"

I don't need to act to get my voice to sound completely dismissive. Though I do make it sound like I'm a bit more scared than I really am.

"Accepting reality takes more courage than retreating to a fantasy." He shakes his head. "But my words will not convince you."

"Fine. So what's the second?"

"You are a product. Whatever there is in you that makes you flee the truth, we don't care, and neither do the people you will work for."

"Slaves."

"Perhaps you will be slaves. Perhaps you will not. But if you still have some hope of being 'free'..." His face screws up like he just tasted the dog shit. "Then go back to hiding in your hovel and waiting for someone to save you."

I make a point of looking at Mitchell and Dick, and they both nod.

"We'll take our chances. Thanks."

"Then go. Outside. The truck is waiting."

Everyone else in the lunch hall is… Huddling in their cliques, only its based on what streets you live on rather than what school clubs you go to. None of them even look at the gang members, and most of them try sitting away from them.

People used to surviving on the streets say 'avoid'. Normal way to relate to gangs, but gangs don't usually run soup kitchens.

The truck's outside. The only thing in the lot. There's a woman in the driver's seat, but she's just staring ahead. We could try asking her some things, but every time we do, we risk standing out. I glance at Dick, but he just nods at the back of the truck. I climb up carefully, then turn around to help Dick up while Mitchell pulls himself up.

Gotta pretend we're not super strong. Or maybe if they didn't care about knives or guns, they wouldn't care about that?

Seven other people in the back. Two look like bums, a family of four and… Some guy in a dirty suit. He's the most alert and… 'Alive', but he pulls himself away slightly when we make eye contact.

So we copy them, forming a huddle as far away from the others as we can, with a 'safe' distance between us and the back of the truck.

And then we wait.

No one else is talking so we can't really talk. I can look out the back, but desolate and abandoned Gotham streets got old a decade ago.

I wonder what Jade's doing?

Not like I think fighting a huge war is better than this, but at least what you're supposed to be doing -what you need to do to win- is clearer. And you don't feel the Anti-Life the whole time. She gets to sneak around for a few days and then go back someplace where the people are living normal lives. Space-lives.

I wonder if Mom would let me take a year out after High School to go space-backpacking? That's something Wally would want to do, right? See a bunch of super-advanced societies? Or maybe space-backpacking isn't really a thing?

Of course, what Paul's doing is something that will fix the problem. And if we're lucky, won't create another problem. Maybe get a bunch of different color power rings together and summon Captain Power Ring?

Heh.

Footsteps-. The Justified guy from inside closes the truck door without looking at us, then I hear his footsteps moving around the side and the passenger side door open. A moment later the engine starts up and there's a slight jolt as the truck accelerates. No seat belts in the back of a truck, but since there's no traffic there isn't a lot of speeding up and slowing down.

I think… Yeah, we're going to the closest warehouse. No real reason why we wouldn't be.

"Hey."

Mitchell leans over, so his mouth is right next to my ear. He'll be able to hear whatever I say with super hearing.

"Yeah?"

"You think we could use this? Send people through ourselves?"

Go through, beat whoever controls the portal generator and then start doing mass evacuations without leaving Earth? Sure, we could do that. Except Mannheim might find out about it and send his super robot through to the other side with a boom tube. The only way it would work is if he couldn't find out about it, and I don't… Think it's-.

Is this why he's coming here? That could be a real problem. If Mistress doesn't know she wouldn't warn them-.

"Mannheim might want the portals. We might have to get them shut down. I don't think we can risk other Earths getting infected."

He tenses slightly.

"I hadn't though-. Yeah, you're right."

I feel the truck pull off the road, and a few seconds later it applies the brake.

Let's find out where we're going.

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd November 1999
23:56 GMT

I watch from on-high as the armed police continue to patrol the area of the fire fight. The Alliance did a reasonable job of cleaning up after themselves before fleeing in their remaining transport vehicles, but the signs of a fight like that don't just disappear and the police have clearly picked up on them.

The first carbonised tree could have been written off as a freak lightning strike, but there are a lot more black marks on the foliage and soil that could be explained by anything short of an electrical storm that would require a dust cloud of a sort that just doesn't occur in Britain.

The fused lumps of metal look like they could be cars, but once the Scene of Crime officers get here they'll quickly realise that they aren't any sort of car that's actually been sold in any country in the world. And that their owner hasn't paid road tax. If they then reach the conclusion they were some sort of prototype electrical vehicle meant for testing on private land -which would be perfectly legal- they'd still have to explain the odd design choices from the mech-shifting technology that are still visible.

"Sir, we've got blood down here."

I hear the voice from the radio of the Inspector overseeing the operation, originally coming from the Sergeant who led the team into the now-evacuated bunker.

"Forensics will be pleased. Any sign of a body?"

"No body, sir. Some footprints, and… Looks like animal tracks."

"Animal tracks?"

"Too small and wrong shape for footprints."

"What sort of animal?"

"Dunno, sir. Something with hooves."

The Inspector frowns. Ah, he spotted that. A predator might follow the scent of blood, but a hoofed animal -a herbivore prey animal like a deer- wouldn't.

"Anything else down there?"

"Dust has been stirred up. Someone's been down here recently. Gone n-. Wait one."

The Inspector walks over to a carbonised tree and pulls off his right glove to touch it with his bare skin.

"What the fuck did this?"

"Looks like someone added a rear exit. I've got more footprints and animal tracks."

"No people?"

"Still completing the sweep, but it doesn't look like it."

"Finish your sweep, then pull out. Leave as much for the Scene of Crime officers as you can."

"Yessir."

The Inspector nods to himself, and then walks over to have a look at one of the piles of wreckage.

"Some sort of… Armoured car..?"

"Inspector!"

The Inspector looks around as another police officer hurries over.

"What?"

"It's the Chief Inspector, sir. He wants to know where we are."

"What does he mean, where we are? He's the one-. Give me the phone."

The communications officer hands the puzzled Inspector the phone handset, and he brings it to his ear. "Sir, I received deployment orders that appeared to be from you. Are you telling me-?"

He stops talking, his face growing increasingly grim.

"S-hit."

He takes another look at the wreckage as his superior continues to talk.

"That may well be, sir, but it looks like a good job they did. I've got two wrecked vehicles, scorch marks that look like someone fired… I don't know, some sort of… High powered taser? Or-. Because the damn trees are burnt like they were hit by lightning. Ah, not sure. Wait one." He turns to his squad radio. "Sergeant, how much blood would you say there was?"

"If it's from one person, they're dead, sir."

"Thank you, Sergeant." He turns back to his phone. "One probable, body no longer on-site. And I'm waiting on forensics before we open up the wrecks to see if there are any remains inside. Um. Doesn't seem likely, sir, but it doesn't hurt to ask." He leans forward to tap the armour panels on the wreck he was studying. "It feels armoured, but it doesn't look like any armoured vehicle I've ever seen. How long-? Right, well, we'll do a perimeter check while we wait for them to arrive, and then clear off. Yeah, I think that's one for the secret squirrels."

He hands the phone back to the officer who gave it to him, then takes a step back from the wreck.

"Alright, everyone! Form a perimeter, twenty metres out, and wait for Scene of Crime! Don't touch anything if you can help it!"

Armed officers stop patrolling around the bunker entrance and form up into fireteams, moving away in different directions.

I've led the horse to water. Let's hope it drinks.

The Conduit refugees are miles away, camping out in the wilds of Hornchurch. They've got contingency plans for this situation that don't involve me, and I can't keep this armour up while I sleep. Percival could set up a safe house near his cottage, but there isn't really… Most aliens prefer modern conveniences for pretty much the same reasons humans do, and he's pretty off-grid.

The Alliance soldiers have pulled out. I was kind of expecting them to bombard the area with missiles once their people got clear, but apparently they decided that it wasn't worth it. Their stealth technology is pretty good, but with a little effort I can see their transport aircraft flying back across the Atlantic. I don't know if they all left, but I can't see any other aircraft of that class nearby.

So..? Time to go home? Or back to Percival's place at least? Ring, fuel?

Thirty four percent charge remaining.

I don't want to get into a big fight at thirty four percent, but I could survive one if I had to. And I've got enough cash on me to get a ferry back to Ireland if I had to.

Okay, but what about tomorrow? I could follow the Alliance transport plane back to their headquarters and… Express my displeasure. Except that some of the work they do is actually valuable. And I certainly couldn't sub in for them with regard to their global commitments. I could find them doing something dodgy and wreck it to make a point, but would they actually get the point, or would they just prioritise my elimination?

Prioritise killing me. Like I killed their-.

No. He was about a second from murdering some unarmed civilians. I don't-.

But I've got a power ring. There are ways I could disable-. Learn to disable someone without killing them, even if they did have it coming.

But that's for tomorrow. I'll check the prisoners and Alliance equipment one more time-.

What are they doing?

 

[Mr Zoat]

November 4th, 1999
00:08 GMT

"…CLEAR, EVERYONE GET CLEAR!"

I breathe a sigh of relief as the airmen scramble to get away from the path of the falling Super Hercules. Since we couldn't get enough explosive onboard to make sure that the Alliance equipment would be completely destroyed, I've got to stay near the base so I can activate the explosives Fitz hid in them at the same time. I'm not sure people won't spot the residue, but he was pretty confident that when a plane crashes into something and it collapses, no one's going to believe that something else caused the collapse.

And below a certain level, an active 'conspiracy' subculture actually helps the Alliance by making the truth sound ridiculous.

The whole thing makes me feel kind of dirty, but the Alliance can't work without secrecy.

I just wish my part didn't need me to drop planes on friendly air bases.

Watching carefully through my binoculars, I just about spot the moment Sh'lainn blasts her way out of the cockpit and flies out, using the smoke as cover. We couldn't risk it not hitting the target, and none of us knew how to reprogram the autopilot. Okay, now I just need to wait-.

I wince as the plane slams into the hangar where they're keeping the Alliance gear. Wait a second so it looks like fuel cooking off and detonate.

And there she blows.

So, what now? Trueblood's plane is halfway across the Atlantic by now, and Fitz needs to get out of British airspace before they send their jets up. Rinaker isn't going to expect me back in Roswell for a couple of days, since I'm here under my own name and with my own passport.

Trueblood may have ran into the Green Knight, but he didn't run into a vampire.

I want to take a look at the docks. See if I can spot anything while I wait for a seat on a regular plane.

I pull a flashlight out of my coat and point it upwards, flashing it three times in quick succession. That should be enough for Sh'lainn to-.

"There you are."

She gracefully descends through the air, hair wild and eyes glowing. The moment she touches down they go back to normal, and I hand her her coat.

"Everything go alright?"

She puts the coat on, disguising her catsuit. "I can point one o' those contraptions at the ground just fine, thank you very much."

"I wasn't doubting your ability to crash it-."

"Hmpf."

She folds her arms across her chest and starts marching back towards the car. A rental, not something that we might have to blow up later. I glance back at the base, where they're already fighting the fire-. The fire I caused, and then turn away and follow-.

Green-. That's a green sword. And the armor the guy's wearing it's wearing is pretty green as well. Trueblood said that he's tough but he didn't say how fast he is. My gun is in my holster.

He hasn't see Sh'lainn. Do I call-?

"Nick..?"

She turns around, sees the Knight and her hands come up two bright beams of light fly from her palms and knock him flying! Gun out, step back, the Knight-. Doesn't look hurt as he gets up-.

And… Waves his hands across his chest, shakes his head and… Points his right fore finger and middle finger at his left wrist. A shield appears on his left arm and he keeps that pointed at Sh'lainn while he keeps his sword pointed at me.

I edge closer to Sh'lainn. "No warning this time?"

"I don't-. He wasn't trying to kill you."

"Good to know. So can you detect maiming..?"

"Keep asking stupid questions and we'll find oot."

But he's not attacking. He's not advancing. He's-.

"You don't know this guy personally, do you?"

Because he's looking at you. Those gestures were aimed at you. I got a sword, but you got a communication attempt. Because even if he doesn't know you, he knows banshees. And he knows the Alliance. But he might not know that I'm an Alliance agent-. Except for the gun I'm pointing at him.

He opens his right hand and his sword vanishes. Then he points his index finger up and makes a circling motion with it before pointing it at.. me.

Ah. Some kind of… Sign language? I don't recognise the gesture-.

"He wants to know who you are." I glance at Sh'lainn. "It's British sign language."

"Okay." Which is a lot more different from American sign language than I assumed it would be. "What was the cross arms thing?"

"'No police'. He was trying to warn me about you. I don't think he's used to Alliance agents and banshees working together."

I make eye contact with the Knight. "Can you understand what I'm saying?"

He nods. The sword hasn't reappeared, and if he wasn't trying to kill me a moment ago…

"Are you working for the vampires?"

He shakes his head and swings his arms horizontally across his chest again. Then he raises his right fore finger and middle finger-

I know that gesture.

- and points them at his neck.

"Vampire. So there are no vampires here."

He points to himself, makes like he's climbing a rope, and then the vampire sign again.

"He hates vampires."

"So who were the weapons for?"

He brings his hands together at his chest and then pulls them apart, then makes a claw with his right hand and presses it into his left palm.

"Ah… Big contract?"

Claw again, two fingers twisting around, then he lets his shield vanish so he can lock his fingers together and move his hands in a circle.

Sh'lainn frowns curiously. "I don't know what that means."

"Can you guess?"

"The last sign was 'American', but I don't know what a 'second American contract'-."

"The Second Amendment. You're saying that whoever bought them has a right to them, so you're not going to tell me."

He signs 'no policeman' again. And then he makes a gesture like he's trying to wave me away. Right. He knows who the Alliance are, but he clearly doesn't think we have any right to anything.

"Did you kill an Alliance agent?"

He nods.

"Why?"

Claw gesture enveloping upraised forefinger, then taps his middle left finger.

"He attacked an innocent. Which I can't exactly say surprises me."

"Okay, but what innocent?"

Oh, 'contract second American'. Thanks.

"So they found the people who bought the weapons. But they only had them to defend themselves." He nods. "Against who?"

He points to me.

I guess this is what being The Man feels like.

"Nick… If the Knight can survive being shot by plasma cannons, why do you think Trueblood only had one agent die?"

"Because the rest left without attacking an innocent." The Knight just watches me. "Are you planning on stopping us leaving?"

He makes a show of looking at the burning air base, then turns back and shakes his head, repeating the 'go away' sign.

"Okay then." I put my gun back in its holster and open the car door. "Let's hope we don't see each other again."

I sit down and close the door. In the wing mirror, I see him nod.

That… Was strange.

I put the car in drive and pull my cell out of my pocket.

"Kraker. I need data on London shipping."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
13:22 GMT -5

"Name?"

After the truck stopped we were herded out into what looks like another warehouse. Over on one side there was a mountain of crates, labelled with the same food brands as Mistress's gang was serving. In the bit we're in there're a bunch of cheap partitions and cheap desks, and if the others are getting the same treatment as me then…

We're getting job interviews.

"Carver Malone."

"Education?"

"I was in High School."

The man doing the interview glares at me. "I've been 'in' a bank vault. Doesn't mean I'm a banker."

That doesn't-. Oh. Right. These guys aren't actual recruitment people. These are people who got on the wrong side of the boss, and know it, and are doing the minimum they have to so they avoid getting on his wronger side.

Or her. I mean, it's usually not, but I've been tied up by Poison Ivy before.

"Well, what exactly do you want to know? I got good grades, but I'm a sophomore. And school kinda got shut down when-."

"Can you read and do basic math?"

"Yeah?"

"Fine. Do you have any long term medical issues?"

"No?"

"What, you don't know?"

"No, I don't have any long term medical problems."

"Or allergies or whatever."

"No, no allergies."

"Immunisation injections?"

Working with Batman means that I've been exposed to some really interesting micro-organisms. I actually had to opt out of the school program because it would conflict with something else I had. I'm more than up to date now, but at the time I got people asking if I was afraid of the mercury.

"I've had them."

He's working through a checklist with no idea why. What kind of organisation has a way to open portals to parallel universes and then doesn't pay attention to what they got out?

"Any job training?"

"I used to be a circus acrobat."

He drops his tablet on the table between us. "If you don't take this seriously, we'll dump you in meat processing."

"No. Seriously. My family were the trapeze act. Do you want me to demonstrate?" I make a point of looking at the ceiling. "Doesn't look like you've got one set up."

"Ah. Okay, I guess. Not heard that one before. Any other skills?"

"I used to have a paper route in Blüdhaven."

"We don't need a paperboy."

"Blüdhaven used to narrowly lose to Hub City as murder capital of America. Then the Sheeda killed everyone in Hub City so there's no more competition. My paper round took me through the territory of five different gangs. I saw one to two shootouts per day."

It was for a case. And okay, I didn't keep it up for long. But it was an eye-opener.

"Rough neighborhood. Could be useful. Okay, last thing. Do you have superpowers?"

If we were infiltrating this place for a long time, I'd say 'no' and keep them as an ace in the hole. But we still need to get back and work out what Mannheim wants with Mistress. So, it looks like honesty is the best policy.

"Yes."

"Being circus-folk is not a superpower."

"No, but super strength is. Right?"

He frowns, leaning away slightly. "You're super strong? Like, tear-through-steel super strong?"

"I haven't ever tried tearing steel, but I can bend it pretty easily."

He glances out of the booth, off into the distance. I can't see anyone for him to be looking at, but I guess his supervisor is over that way.

I smile. "Want me to break something?"

"Okay, kid? That sounds great, but if you're shitting me we're both in the shit. You understand me?"

"Yeah, no problem. It's not like I'm saying I'm psychic or something, right? Strength is easy to test."

"I suppose. Okay." He stands up. "Get up. Follow me."

He leads the way across the warehouse, and I get a momentary glance at Artemis and Mitchell going through the same thing. We're heading for the exit, and he nods at the door guards before leading me to the back of the lot. Not much around. Looks like… An abandoned airfield, so that's a hangar and not a warehouse. Easier to fly things in, I guess. He leads me over to a pile of packing crates, piled up haphazardly out of the way after they took out whatever used to be inside.

"Break them up."

I walk up to the closest and pick it up. "You know this isn't hard wood, right?"

"I just need to check you're not completely full of shit. My boss can work out how strong you really are."

I shrug and close my hands into fists, the wood splintering and cracking as my fingers move through it with no real effort. "Like that?"

"Yeah, but try and make it look impressive. It's my boss and his boss you got to convince."

"And… Then what?"

"Then you get a decent job instead of whatever they got the rest of you people doing. And I get a finders fee."

"Who's your boss?"

"His name's Jimmy. Jimmy Dawes. It's his call whether you're worth his boss's time. And she's the one who you gotta impress. So make sure it looks good."

I pick up a crate, toss it into the air and then jump up and bicycle kick it into the ground! My foot basically goes through it, bits of wood exploding outwards in all directions!

I land in a crouch, looking at my interviewer.

"That okay?"

"I dunno. You said it wasn't strong wood."

I shrug, pick up the next with my left hand and then punch my right fist through it.

"Yeah, that should be okay. Come back inside and I'll talk to Jimmy."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
13:27 GMT -5

"…escort my foot up his ass."

Mitchell just looks awkward as Artemis comes to the end of her mutter-tirade.

"Ah. Maybe he said it because he thinks you're pretty?"

And that was the wrong thing to say.

Her eyes narrow. "You-."

"It's the quickest way for them to start making a profit on bringing you here." She turns to me, some of the anger bleeding off. "People traffickers don't do long term investments."

Which is… Strange, when you think about it. I don't exactly know what sorts of people survive Anti-Life exposure the best, but I haven't seen anything showing that well-educated people die more. If it was me, I'd be focusing on trafficking people with high-value skills who'd want to leave, so I could exploit them. Just… Getting a whole lot of people for low-skilled jobs doesn't seem worth the effort.

Maybe they just assumed that people our age wouldn't have useful skills and so they didn't bother asking. Because… They're just taking whoever they can get, because Mistress controls the other side of the portal and they don't want their own people getting Anti-Lifed.

Mitchell lifts his head slightly, and a moment later I hear footsteps heading in our direction.

"Anything we need to know?"

He gives his head a small shake.

"Thug dialogue."

Okay, so the people on-site don't make assessments for high-value traffickees. They just decide who's worth passing on to someone who's actually important. But they're not high-value employees, either, so they're not motivated to put much effort in.

The door to the hut they put us in swings open, and a… Yeah, thug dialogue. Jimmy isn't much better dressed than his henchmen, but the body language makes it clear that he thinks he's going places.

"Three kids with super strength come through the hole at the same time." He shrugs. "Am I suppose to think that's a fluke?"

Artemis shakes her head. "Of course not. If we were hiding what we can do, we wouldn't have told you. And we'd have come through on separate days. We're not stupid."

"Alright. So why'd'you do it?"

"To get a better negotiating position. And we've worked with each other for years. We'd rather have people we know watching our backs."

"That Anti-Life thing only started about a month ago. You were together before that?"

"Yeah? I live in Gotham. Heard the cultists had a way out, took it. What's hard to understand?"

"How three people who clearly aren't related to each other have the same powers."

"What, you don't have the Danner Formula? Where.. are we, anyway?"

"Danner F-?" He leans closer, and if he had an orange power ring I'm pretty sure his eyes would be glowing. "You've got a way to give people permanent super strength?"

Yeah, that got him excited.

"No, some crazy doctor did and he gave it to our moms. Only works in the womb." Artemis shrugs. "And I don't know how to make it, so you're out of luck."

Jimmy pulls away, tossing his head back. "Fuck! Well. You all just got less valuable."

"To who? We don't know where we are. Or who you are."

"We're the people who got you out of your shit-hole home."

"Yes, thank you. But we can't work out what you want from us if you won't tell us anything."

Jimmy thinks about it. He's trying to make it look like he's in charge, but whatever Mistress's Justified said, they clearly don't have anything here that can stop us just leaving. Has this guy… Not seen what someone with super strength can do to a regular guy? Even if we're in the desert, we can run faster than most cars. Follow the road and we'll get somewhere eventually-.

Wait.

Fishing. I don't.. think their boss really knows what they could get out of this. I was thinking that a portal to a parallel universe would be expensive, but maybe they just stole it and now they're trying to work out how to make money from it. Can't sell something like that, not unless this world is a lot more advanced than it looks. You can fence jewellery, but who's going to buy a dimensional portal?

"Alright, fine. This is a parallel universe-."

"No duh."

"You wanna hear this or not?"

Artemis is doing a good job as a truculent teenager. She's got the expression down perfect.

"We're part of… A kind of super powered mob. We work for Ultrawoman. And I know you're thinking that you could make a run for it. Fuck, I wouldn't even hold it against you. But however strong you think you are? There ain't no one stronger than Ultrawoman."

Ultrawoman? I don't remember there being an Ultrawoman. OL said Superwoman was half their Mary Marvel and Olympia was their Wonder Woman, but he never mentioned an Ultrawoman. Maybe they carried on cloning after making Ultraboy? No, that was their Cadmus, and after Ultraman was dead, why would they make another one? Their Lex Luthor is a good guy.

"So you gunna play ball, or is the boss lady gunna have to fry you?"

"Yeah, we can… Play ball or whatever."

"Great." He takes a few steps back towards the door. "So-"

Mitchell twitches.

"-sit-."

There's debris everywhere! I duck, watching for-. Humanoid shape-. The ceiling, they came through the ceiling. The dust from the roof fills the air and makes it hard to see, and-.

Oh, I did get hit by part of the roof. It just didn't hit hard enough for me to feel it.

"Interesting."

There's a sudden gust of air, and the dust and dirt are blown away. Ultrawoman… She's wearing traditional kryptonian clothes in blue, gold and red, except where I expect to see an 'S', there's a 'U'.

"The other two flinched. You just stood there."

Her right hand is on Mitchell's collar, holding it loosely as she stares at him.

"What makes you different?"

If she's kryptonian, she should be able to see the difference between him and a human. But she's asking. Is she asking because she wants us to be honest..? Or is she not looking..? Mitchell looks at Artemis for a suggestion-.

"That one?" Ultrawoman looks at Artemis, her eyes glowing red. "Then I'll burn-."

"No."

She turns back to see Mitchell's eyes glowing the same behind his slowly-melting shades.

"Ah. Yes." Ultrawoman releases her hold on him and lets her eyes go dim. She's smiling. "Jimmy? Good work. I'll be taking these three immediately."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
13:40 GMT -5

I blink as the light fades, and-. Gravity's not right. Artificial. We're in space.

The room we're in looks kinda like an open-plan office, and Ultrawoman is walking over to a fancy-looking desk with three chairs in front of it.

That wasn't zeta radiation. Or a boom tube. So they've got some other kind of teleportation. I'd know it if I saw it again, but I don't know what it was.

"Sorry for the surprise. I-."

She reaches the other side of her desk and spins around to look at us, smiling.

"Actually, let's get to know each other a little better. Why do you think I flew in through the roof like that?"

Artemis shrugs. "To show how powerful you are?"

Ultrawoman.. looks me right in the eyes. "What do you think?"

Ah. Uh.

I don't wanna look at the others, and Ultrawoman's hearing is going to be as good as mine, so…

"Ah-. I mean, you found out I was kryptonian, so… Make us jump and see what we did?"

She nods, and she's still smiling, but… It looks pretty fake, even to me. "That's a good answer." She looks me over, and-. Yeah, she's using some sort of vision power. I don't know why: x-ray vision doesn't do much to kryptonians, and she already knows that I am one. "What else do you think I found out?"

"What we do when we're surprised." I relax a little when Dick answers. "Or if we were supposed to be some kind of trap."

She pulls out her chair, then flaps her right hand like she's trying to fan away a bad smell. "Jonathan-" Me. "-stayed right where he was, because he didn't know what to do but didn't think anything could really hurt him. You two moved out of the way and braced for action. You knew there wasn't anywhere to run to so you didn't try running, but you didn't know what you were facing so you didn't attack. Good reaction. Sit down."

We all kind of look at each other. But, I mean, they're just chairs. So we come a little closer and sit down.

Oh, I get it. She's still standing, so she's making us look up to her? She's making herself the centre of attention. Making herself look powerful, even though she's actually smaller than me. And a bit smaller than Artemis, actually. And making us obey her.

"So. Introductions. I'm Ultrawoman. I manage a number of enterprises for the Crime Syndicate of Amerika, and I'm interested in trialling the three of you for junior management positions in our organisation."

She sits down. And her chair's a little higher up than ours, so she's still above us. It makes me think of being at school more than anything. Batman usually does this kind of thing standing up.

"If your trial is successful, you will receive remuneration and benefits commensurate to your abilities… Think upper middle class, from the start, with opportunities to advance yourselves. The CSA is going through a period of reorganisation at the moment and there will be plenty of opportunities for a group of ruthless go-getters like yourselves."

Artemis raises her eyebrows. "Ruthless go-getters?"

"You brought useful people with you, but left your families behind. Did the Anti-Life break their spirits? Did they kill themselves, or did it hollow them out like Mistress's servants?"

"It's not-." Ultrawoman raises her eyebrows. "It's not. There was an opportunity, and we took it. We don't really know what you actually want from us, but whatever it is, it's gunna be easier for us to cope with it than someone else."

She shrugs. "If they turn up, I can arrange for them to be released into your care. You may have spotted it, but the people doing the interviews aren't exactly the most capable part of our enterprise."

"So..?" Dick leans forward. "What exactly is your enterprise? I take it the 'Crime Syndicate of America' isn't named ironically."

"It may as well be. What do you think of when you hear 'crime'?"

"Breaking the law?"

"So if there's no real law, what makes something a crime?"

Dick smiles. "Whoever's strong enough to enforce a code."

"Until two months ago, your world was a world of laws. Oh, some people were corrupt, and there were some places where corruption was common, but mostly, there were rules. Here, there aren't. Whatever… Social mechanisms, your type of humans-." She looks at me. "And my fellow kryptonian, have to make people work together for the common good, don't exist here."

Huh? "Then how do you make anything work?"

"Threats, violence, naked self interest. My.. people weren't entirely unlike that, but humans… I don't understand how they made it this far."

"'Weren't'?"

She frowns at me, but it's a curious frown rather than an angry frown.

"Are there a lot of kryptonians on your Earth?"

"No… Not many. Did your Krypton explode?"

"Ah… Kind of. We were pretty spread out, so that wasn't too big a problem."

Huh? "My species only died out because we were all on one planet. How did..?"

She looks uncomfortable for a moment. "We received a lesson on the negative long-term consequences of uncontrolled aggression. We bit off more than we could chew and nearly got wiped out, and that's a lesson I apply to my work for the CSA."

Artemis looks a little interested. "How?"

"We're here to make money, the same as everyone else. We work together because it's easier to stay out of the way of the only people who stand a chance of stopping us."

"And you do stuff that isn't illegal, 'cause there aren't any laws."

"I honestly think that my part of the CSA creates more order than it destroys. The humans here may look like the humans from your version of Earth, but they won't behave in the same way."

"I dunno. Humans can be pretty nasty back home as well."

"Annabelle, you don't need to worry. I understand that you're not exactly eager to work for a group of supervillains just because I asked nicely. I just want you to be a little open-minded about our work, and look at the society we're operating in not through the lens of how things work on your Earth, but in terms of how they work here."

"I… Guess.. we can do that?"

"Why don't I give you a tour of where the other people from your Earth have been working, and a tour of some… Sites of interest on this Earth, and you can ask any questions you like about what you see."

"You're… Being… Ah-."

"Nice about this? Annabelle, one of the main reasons we're trying to recruit from your Earth is because we believe that your people are easier to work with. I want to give our working relationship the best possible chance of being one that benefits both of us. So I could act like… Some people in the CSA, but I don't think that's in anyone's interests. You're being developed as a long-term asset, not some… Sideshow rube to be nickel and dimed."

"That… Sounds good..?"

"I'm glad to hear it. Oh, I meant to ask, before your Earth was infested with that Anti-Life thing, were there any wars happening?"

"Ah… No. After the Sheeda, things… Were pretty calm."

"Mm." She picks up a remote control and points it at the wall behind us. A moment later the wall drops down to reveal a window onto Earth orbit, the planet below-.

Explosions I can see from here bloom in five different places.

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th February 2013
13:40 GMT -5

I am to find this 'Mistress' without the aid of other scions? Well then, they cannot complain overmuch about my methods. Hiding is not the way of the gods of Apokolips.

"Mother Box!" "Bring forth my faithful steed!"

BOOM!

I tear off the lowly rags that I wore to disguise myself as Béton Brut emerges, and I feel better already. I told Match that it is not in my nature to disguise myself, but I do not think that he understood how profoundly unnatural it feels for a god to hide their fire under a bushel. Brut checks my scent for a moment and then sniffs the air, taking in the stench of Gotham.

"Ungwwr?"

"It smells a little like home, doesn't it boy?" I pat the side of his neck, then haul myself up onto his back. I can't help but smile. "A pale reflection, but it feels more normal than Earth. Ah, but what art could I produce if I saw only the same things day after day?"

I look around, the lowlies having scattered and the… Extensions of Mistress's soul looking as unconcerned as they should.

"There, that one. Brut, scent."

I grip his sides with my legs as he bounds over, shoving his nose into the chest of the closest. Brut is as accustomed to the Anti-Life as I am, taking the scent of the frail strands of Ultimate Truth that fill the Earth will no doubt prove a simple matter. They raise their guns and I…

I sigh is what I do. The indulgences I grant Aunt Barda.

I wave my mega rod, a pulse of force knocking them back artlessly. It's… I can appreciate slapstick, but when you've seen one falling prat you've seen them all. Brut walks forward, sniffing each of the fallen in turn.

"Grhmf."

"Do you have it, boy?"

His head comes up as he sniffs the air for a moment. I see the moment where something catches his attention.

"Run."

He bounds down the road, feet momentarily touching road surface or car bonnet as he accelerates towards our destination. The place of power of Mistress. And it seems that we're going south.

Robinson Park passes us on our right, the land overgrown as the Acolytes of Ivy cultivate the land. It is strange how they give themselves to that cause when their mistress was so dismissive of meat-based life. But I suppose that is one of the wonders of the Anti-Life; all are equal in slavery.

It will be fascinating to see this undone, to see their minds return to their neutral state having glimpsed the soul of Great Darkseid. I wonder how they will sleep, how they will rationalise their actions in the warm light of falsehood? I wonder if they will become more resistant to future exposure, or less? Perhaps that is why Great Darkseid has allowed this? Those he confronts personally simply do not recover from the experience, so this… Pale shade could generate information that he could not otherwise acquire for himself.

I wonder..?

Is it immodest for me to try to acquire a fragment of the Anti-Life for myself? Darkseid has not vouchsafed to me any new objective, so I can only assume that my purpose here has not changed. I would not use it for my own advancement, but… What could I create under such an influence that I can not even imagine now?

But I should not destroy what-.

A spray of bullets strike my armour and Brut's barding as we charge through the financial district. I see. Ah, of course. The puppets may not be moved to preserve their own lives, but in the service of their Mistress they will rally apace to corral me. Manned barricades constructed from abandoned cars are assembled with nary a word, but the roads south are many and Brut's paws are swift.

Inalienable Truth.

Hah!

"Ah, you think Anti-Life is your ally? You merely adopted the Anti-Life!"

But I don't put my spirit into my words. I do not want to challenge Mistress for control of this city. I merely wish to gain some idea of her strength. If she has undergone an Awakening… That may be interesting.

"I was born in it, moulded by it! I knew nothing of freedom until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but cloying!"

We turn a corner and charge a barricade, and I stow my rod and take up my pistol. Artfully precise shots to the barrels-

Because Robin waxed wroth at me last time last time I used precise shots to destroy their ammunition clips, after all, and the beauty of the act is much the same; stylistic bloodletting replaced by slapstick as their guns misfire or cease to exist.

-prevent them from firing. I then stow my pistol, and as Brut leaps the ruined vehicles I lean left and reach out my hand, snatching a cut-rate justifier off the ground. Though I will credit him with not exclaiming beyond what the impact itself forces through compressing his lungs. My right hand grasps my pommel and I haul myself upright once more as the barricade recedes behind us.

I smile at my burden.

"Lowlie!"

He gamely draws his knife, not attempting to alleviate my grip around his throat at all even as I constrict his wind pipe.

"I would-"

He stabs at my throat, my right hand meeting his wrist, gripping and twisting, snapping bone and breaking grip.

"-speak with-"

His flailing kicks at Brut's flank are similarly ineffectual.

"-your Mistress."

Disregarding his damaged arm, he leans back using my grip on his neck as a pivot point and places the soles of his feet against Brut's side to push. I tighten my grip with my legs, staring him in the eyes.

Inalienable Truth.

"Where may she be found?"

He draws his pistol, and I can only imaginje that he is slow in bringing it to bear against his own head because he lacks the breath for thought. A good attempt! I twist my legs, causing Brut to run closer to the row my buildings to our left. And then I twist in the saddle, the lowlie's shaking hand smacking into the wall and the gun being knocked free with the bare minimum number of broken bones!

"I will ask again, lowlie." I slap his legs down and pull him closer as we reach the coast, the barricade before the Blackgate Bridge being the last impediment. "Where is she? I would speak with her on a matter of great importance!"

"Yhr n't fit t' lick'er oots."

"But I would do so anyway. Now tell me!" All-Consuming Passion of Creation!

Inalienable Truth.

"The Supermax wing."

I toss him aside as the-

BOOM!

-boom tube opens, Brut lunging through as the bullets from the bridge garrison pass through the air behind us.

Inside the prison, aah, the Anti-Life is almost palpable! Lines of men in prison overalls stand against the walls, heads bowed, as a woman in tight-fitting but unarmoured clothing walks towards me.

"Mistress will see you now."