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

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
06:58 GMT +2

"Good morning, Georgios."

The bare-chested man nods at me, but doesn't otherwise react. Looking at him is interesting. He's actually a little under six feet tall, but he… Feels larger. And not just because of the additional bulk his muscles lend him. And those muscles look like they're both in perfect proportion to form the masculine ideal and absolutely massive things capable of crushing bricks between them at the same time, like a picture that can either be a vase or two faces. Spiritually-enhanced martial arts: not just for the Orientals.

Georgios and his fellow Sons of Kratos did sterling work in keeping Greece functioning, though… Unlike Amon they simply weren't strong enough to fight the most powerful Justifiers. But they could fight and keep the people around them from being overwhelmed, and they used that to tour the country to stop any one place getting too bad. The Greek government is actually… It wasn't functioning, but it started up again fairly quickly.

"Any news on your teacher?"

A slight head-shake. About what I was expecting.

I haven't been able to establish perfect timelines, but Kratos, Ploutos and Hera all disappeared from their civilian lives at some point after the Anti-Life hit. Naturally, the Sons of Kratos weren't exactly helpless without their god. Their whole philosophy involves being willing to tough problems out and push on through regardless of the opposition. Still, it would be helpful if I could get in contact with an Olympian. Zeus implied that he didn't know where they'd gone, but I'd understand if he's not really inclined to answer my questions helpfully.

The Anti-Life is gone. They shouldn't still be under attack. I don't want to try taking an elf-path back because, firstly, I don't have a guide, and secondly because I don't want to wander in blind if something else is going on.

"I'll let you know if I hear anything."

That gets me another small nod, then he steps aside and lets me into the Prime Minister's office.

There's a desk next to the main window, but at the moment the most powerful people in Greek government are seated around a medium-sized table off to one side. Paperwork is mixed with the detritus of breakfast as they try and get the country into shape.

"Mister Prime Minister. Defence Minister. Finance Minister."

The Prime Minister raises his coffee cup in greeting. "Orange Lantern. On behalf of the Republic of Greece, thank you for freeing us from the Anti-Life."

"Sorry it took so long. Ah, look, you're all busy people, so I'll get on with it. The Justice League -which in this context means Superman and me- are thinking about releasing some very advanced technologies to human civilisation, and we want some places to volunteer-"

The Defence Minister blinks as he works out what I'm offering a little ahead of the other two.

"-to be our canaries."

The Finance Minister, possessing the bloodshot eyes of a man trying to fill in for a God of Finance and finding out that it's impossible, blinks in confusion.

"Canaries?"

"In Britain, miners would take small birds in cages down the mines with them as carbon monoxide detectors. If there was carbon monoxide, the canaries died before the miners and they knew to evacuate."

They all stare at me.

"Sorry, I have a fairly black sense of humour. My point is that we don't know what the economic effect of this will be, so we're asking for volunteers."

The Prime Minister takes a moment to regain his equilibrium. "What exactly are you offering?"

"Improved power generation is the obvious thing. I can give you enough bleed torsion generators to replace everything that you use now, and I can-. Well, I can't explain the physics, but I can give your physicists a full written explanation written by other people so that you can learn to build your own. I think Kal-El has some sort of improved recycling technology he wants to share, along with graphene-producing towers that pull carbon out of the air and make a super-strong building material out of it."

I shrug.

"I'm afraid that my Dolmen Gate project is on indefinite hiatus until Atlantis drops its shields, but Superman and I both have teleportation technology that doesn't use magic. We're.. probably going to want to black box those, but it will still make it much easier to transport goods around. Or if you want something that you can build without us, we've got all sorts of aircraft designs that are generations ahead of anything on Earth."

"What..?" The Defence Minister glances at his colleague for a moment. "What about magic?"

"Sorry, but with Atlantis incommunicado we don't have the spare magic capacity to use magic industrially. Even KordTech's weather control system production line has shut down, and we have no idea when it could be started up again. Is..? That a problem?"

"Nnnno." The Prime Minister shakes his head. "No. It will make things easier. Will you also be offering anything else?"

"We don't really have a plan. As I said, we've never done this before and we don't know exactly how things will work out. I've got-. There's basically nothing that we can't improve, the challenge will be actually integrating it with Greek society rather than just giving people technological hand-outs."

He nods, slightly stunned. "I will need to discuss that with the full cabinet, and with parliament."

"Of course. I appreciate that this is a big deal."

"Is anywhere else under consideration?

"Tynanda."

He looks blank.

"It's in north-west Africa. Civilisation sort of passed it by, its exports are narcotics and people and we couldn't really make the situation worse. We might talk to other places as well but this is a radical departure from how we normally work and there's a high degree of institutional inertia."

He nods cautiously.

"Ah, thank you for your time. Is there.. anything you wanted to ask me?"

"What has become of Themyscira?"

"Oh! Ah, firstly, they're all alright. The island got moved to serve as an outer defence for Olympus. I'm not really sure why it hasn't reappeared yet, but that's… That's something that I will investigate once things are a little more stable."

"I would appreciate it if you could make it a priority. There are… Creatures in the water around Themyscira which are still here. We are concerned what they will do without the Amazons to watch over them."

Ah. Yes, that's a reasonable concern. And there aren't really a lot of people who those creatures might recognise. Actually, it's basically just Donna and maybe Kon.

I nod.

"I'll get on that today. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Was there anything else?"

The Defence Minister nods. "What would happen if whoever sent this… 'Anti-Life' did it again today?"

"Ah, well, that required a whole broadcast network that doesn't exist. It would be unpleasant in a small area, but that's about it. If you mean 'are we immune now', no, I don't think so. I think that planetary defence is something that governments should look at once they… Ah… Start existing again."

The Prime Minister nods. "Thank you, Orange Lantern. That is all."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 12

21st September 2039
09:43 GMT -5

So this is what Gotham looks like now? Can't say I think much of it. As far as I'm concerned it's just a cyberpunk dystopia without any of the interesting parts. We've had teleportation for over forty years and the roads are still jammed with traffic, the growing density of the city resulting in ridiculous-. Overpasses, the Americans call them. Insane multi-layer roads on stilts.

They rebuilt Gotham after an earthquake levelled half of it and rendered the other half structurally unsound, and they built these?

I look out of the bus window at… They actually built an elevator for taking people from ground level to the upper portion of the city. It's exposed to the wind on both sides. Anything more than a breeze and it would sway-.

This place hasn't gotten any less insane in the last forty years. It's just that the insanity has gotten more spread out, infecting more people so that none of them can notice it. I pat the case on the floor between my legs and try to work out whether I'm still spry enough to open it before we hit the ground, or if I need to get someone to build a quick-deploy mechanism for ease of use. Could go either way, though I will say that I appreciate how far apart the rows of seats are. Definitely wouldn't be able to fish it out fast enough on most buses.

The driver brakes a little hard, but I suppose that's one of the perils of inner city driving. The plethora of morons around you in fast moving lumps of metal. I rise to my feet, taking my case in my left hand as I reach for the rail with my right. Still in better nick that most people my age but there's no sense in taking unnecessary risks. I walk-.

Wait, we're not at the stop. Why is-?

The driver shrinks back as a large and heavily muscled man wearing mostly faux-leather roughly shoves the door open and stomps on board. Ah, yes, I see that his similarly buff confederates are setting up barricades across the road, having gotten up here by… Don't know. They're armed with automatic rifles, and a couple of them have rocket-propelled grenade launchers.

The more things change, the more they remain the same, I suppose.

"Everybody! Hands where I can see 'em! This vehicle now belongs to the Envenomed!"

I sigh, half-turn to put my briefcase on my seat and open it. Good job Doctor Knight built things to last. I-.

Glass shatters and there's a roar of rockets behind me and I turn around as fast as I can with my fingers around the activator as-.

Duck!

As Terrence McBatman flies over my head, pushing the thug who had been holding up the bus driver in front of him, smashing him into -and through- the rear window before throwing him into the traffic jam behind us!

Terrence hovers just behind the bus on… Rocket feet? As the Envenomed thug jumps back up. He's got a few scrapes from the impact but if he's a venom user then I doubt that he can feel them.

"Leather convention was last month."

"Bat-MAAAAAN!"

The thug leaps at him, and Batman easily darts to the side before throwing-. Before hitting him with an electrified bolas which wraps itself around him before trying very hard to shock him unconscious. It doesn't quite manage it, but it does enough that he can't muster up the strength to free himself. While he's doing that Batman is launching batarangs, targetting the guns being carried by the other gang members-.

RPG launcher woman takes a look at her weapon, pulls the rocket grenade out and throws it at-.

I'm on my feet, pressing the stud for 'flight' and flying for the shattered front window of the bus. Land and oh I'm too old for this, flight off and shield up and plant my feet because it doesn't soak all of the kinetic-.

PWOOOOOOF!

Urgh, kinetic energy.

Ugh.

As the smoke clears I watch Batman rocket punch the Envenomed woman, sending her spinning across the road and over the edge. Ah, heck, flight-.

No, Batman's already on it, flying over to the edge and firing a grappling line down to catch her before she can hit anything. Other Envenomed are sporting various injuries but most of them are still more or less on their feet. But this location means that there isn't really anywhere for them to run to. Two try running down the road anyway, and get their legs bolased for their trouble. Another makes a leap over to another road a few levels down from us and is promptly the focus point of a five-car pile-up. The drivers were trying to avoid him so he mostly took glancing hits, but that looks like it earned him a few broken bones at the very least.

"Are you okay?!"

Batman is standing in front of the bus, looking up at me. I wave my free hand dismissively.

"Yes, fine. Carry on. I-."

"Ain't too clever, huh?" Someone grabs me from behind, one arm around my chest and the other-. Ah, holding a knife to my right eye. "Guess peripheral vision get real bad when you get old."

"Let him go!"

"Heh. That line ever worked, batty-boy?"

Ah, let's see. Personal shield is there, slip the gravity rod up my sleeve, and I'm good.

"Batman, just shoot him."

He jerks, clearly surprised at what I said, but returns his full attention to the thug an instant later.

"At the moment it's assault and robbery. Make it murder and I throw you over the edge to be with your friends."

"I don't think you'll do it. You're not even the real Batman."

Er… Let's see. I can see people running out of the bus. Twist my thumb…

"I'm real enough for-."

Force blast.

The man who grabbed me goes flying backwards into the driver's compartment, knife flying out of his hand as he does. Batman's on him an instant later, beating him around the head until he finally loses consciousness. Batman then shoves him to the ground and cuffs him before turning to check on me.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine. Hardly my first one of these. I wasn't in any danger."

"Ah…"

I let the gravity rod slide into my hand and hold it up. "Peter Wynne. I used to work with your predecessor."

Batman checks over the thugs he's captured, but none of them appear to be interested in offering further resistance.

"Aren't you the second richest guy in the world?"

"I doubt I'm more than seventh, honestly."

"What's a guy like you doing riding the bus?"

"Trying not to draw attention. Then Gotham happened." I look at the bus, and… Yes, that's not going anywhere. "The police are going to need a statement, aren't they?"

In the distance I hear sirens, as one of those flying police cars starts heading our way.

"On the plus side, it looks like your appointment with the Commissioner got moved up."

"That's something. I won't keep you, but I will need to talk to you and the other one some time this week. I-."

And he's gone.

I head back into the bus to stow the rod in its case before the police arrive. For a country that recognises gun ownership as a constitutional right, American police can get surprisingly shirty about me having it. Ugh, even with the meeting effectively being moved up I'm going to be delayed longer. Where's that phone…

"Message to Samuel Young. My apologies. Delayed by gang activity. You're the D.A.. Do better."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 12

21st September 2039
10:24 GMT -5

Now there's a woman I haven't seen for a while. Always thought that it was a shame things didn't work out with her and Grayson. And that she never had children. I used to say that I was disinterested in that myself, but after Barbara 'cured' herself that… Ah… That was almost the first thing we did.

And if the amount you love your children can be measured by the amount of their excrement you have to clean up… Well, I know that most of my alter-egos use their power rings for that sort of thing, but I think that doing it manually was a bonding experience.

"…a hero."

Oh, she's… Looking at me.

"Sorry, miles away. What was that?"

"You took a hit from a rocket that would have totalled the bus and everyone on it. Then you didn't break a sweat when they took you prisoner."

"It's not the first time."

"You wanna fill in the blanks for me?"

I look at her for a moment-. Ah.

"You don't recognise me, do you?" She raises her eyebrows a little. "We haven't seen each other for over forty years, so it's… I just sort of assumed that Mister Young might have mentioned that I was visiting." I hold out my right hand. "Peter Wynne."

"Oh." She takes my hand loosely for about half a second. "And you came on a bus?"

"I assumed that it was possible to drive through Gotham safe from highway pirates." She looks unimpressed. "Look, it was either drive all the way here which would take hours, fly in and rent a car or fly in and use a bus. The bus was less hassle."

"You don't think you were the target?"

"They didn't say anything about wanting me in particular. And… Most criminal gangs who actually know who I am realise that… Ah… If anything happened to me…"

"Your employees would take it personally. Your supervillain employees."

A couple of uniformed officers look around from interviewing the other bus passengers.

"Ah…" I reach up to rub my neck with my right hand, feeling the small scar. "It's not a completely reliable defence, but it does mean that some people think twice. Apparently, not venom-users."

She glances back to where the more heavily armoured police are frog-marching the Envenomed into police transport aircraft.

"We don't know it's venom. Unless there's something you wanna tell me?"

I shrug. "Venom has virtually no medical uses. My laboratories could make it, but so could most modern secondary school chemistry labs."

"Why are you in Gotham, anyway? Recruiting again?"

"Oh, ah… I'm here to talk you and Mister Young into resigning before I sue you."

"Tcha-." She blinks, her eyes widening. "Excuse me?"

"That drug you had your police force use on the splicers. Where do you think it was developed?"

She frowns. "That was-." Her frown deepens. "You made it?"

"My late wife and her team made it. What I'm curious about, if you didn't know that, is where you got it from."

She considers me for a moment. "There's no way you don't know. And there's no way I'm giving you ammunition for a completely frivolous lawsuit."

"No, this is what we can do instead of a lawsuit. So far, my legal firm is just gathering information. But if it turns out that anyone that you used it on suffers any ill-effects because you didn't share information with the company that actually knows how it works, that's off the table, and you would be responsible for whatever those consequences were."

"Like what, they turn into regular humans?"

"And it was intended to be used in a controlled medical environment, after taking a full genetic workup of the person it was being used on. The risk of negative effects if you don't take proper precautions is quite high. In our tests, brain damage was actually quite common, because the brain isn't really designed to have parts grow or shrivel up in a few seconds and it doesn't recover. Losing the body parts responsible for magnetoreception can actually cause strokes due to the electrical discharges. Rapid changes to blood chemistry-."

"Fine. Do you want your doctors to have access to the suspects?"

"The question is: do you? Because the moment that my people have access they will use that to gather evidence of your department's negligence."

"I don't want them dead."

"Good. Good. And then there's the decision that you made in using it in the first place."

"I'm not going to apologise for taking down violent criminals."

"You and Mister Young gave yourself the authority to rewrite the DNA of Gotham citizens at will. Administering drugs like that to unwilling patients requires a court order for each instance that you did not have."

"I do have the authority to do whatever is necessary to stop them when they're in the middle of committing crimes!"

"Whatever is necessary, yes. But it's an objective test. Injecting yourself with sheep DNA doesn't make you immune to standard stun rounds or gas grenades. Barbara-."

"What?"

"No, not-. Barbara Minerva. Cheetah. Was arrested by normal police three times, and that was with the equipment police had forty years ago."

"Your wife."

"So as you can understand, I know her case very well. Being as strong as an unusually strong sheep does not necessitate a full genetic rewrite, if for no other reason than accepting it gives the police the right to rewrite any genetics that they don't like."

"I can't believe-." She shakes her head and turns to leave. "You can deal with our lawyers."

"Alright. I will."

I take a breath, then let it out. That was always a long shot. But it's always sad when good people end up doing things like this. She's probably done a lot of good work, but…

What am I saying? This city is the hub of a network of Joker-themed criminal gangs. If Gotham -the place that suffered most from the Joker's attention- has that, then the person who is supposed to be policing it clearly isn't up to the job.

The police are blocking off the road, and the traffic jam is already large enough that there's no way that I'm going to get a taxi here. I could charter an aircraft, but…

But I have a small aircraft pilot's licence for a reason.

I pop open my case and fish out the gravity rod. Bit of a risk if there's a sniper watching out for me, but I doubt that's the case here. No one.. looking…

I press the 'flight' button and hold the gravity rod aloft, rising above the road and leaving the crime scene below me. I've got my meeting with Mr. Young where I'm going to cover those exact points again, and then…

Convincing Dr. Cuvier to accept my firm's legal representation.

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
08:05 GMT +3

Yes, that's definitely the place where Themyscira isn't.

The waves lap gently below me as I stare at the sea.

It's not even as if the island was ripped off the bedrock. Examining the sea floor… If not for the fact that I've been here before and I can compare the shapes that the flows of the water have dug into the sub-aquatic detritus to what used to be there. The water is flowing differently now that the islands aren't there, but I can see where things have started shifting.

And down, down in the deeper parts, I can see Scylla.

It's a little like a magic eye picture. Scylla is so big that I spent a little while trying to work out how an aquatic mountain that shape could have formed there, and that's with power ring scans. Something about her nature makes her respond in an irregular way to scans. Either that or I just can't get my head around the idea of a creature that big.

Fortunately, she's not doing much, and I don't think that poking her and saying 'are you okay?!' would help the situation. Instead, I fabricate a monitoring drone and set it loose. Any change in the position of that giant pile of supernatural meat, it'll ping-

I frown as I notice a winged shape to the west.

-me. Yes, we're not far from the harpy's home islands here, but it's not exactly a short flight and-.

And she's wallowing in the air. I transition closer and create a perch for her.

"You're a way from-"

She starts, blinks, focuses on me and… And smiles.

"Pavlos!"

That's… Rather nice.

"-home. What brings you here?"

She holds her wings open while she checks my construct, harpy flight being more about using magic to manipulate air currents than about raw muscle. Satisfied, she flaps down and locks her claws around the perch.

"I need to talk to Princess Diana."

"She's…"

Her eyes widen. "Has she died?"

"No, no, but she's pretty busy. Is there anything I can do? Ah, how is everyone?"

"Yes! Yes! I need-. My brother."

"Okay, what does he look like?"

"No, he-. The great misery. When everyone..."

"It was the same everywhere."

"It did something else to him. And now it is gone, he blames himself for what it made him do. But if it was the same everywhere then it was not his fault! You can tell him!"

Yes, I can, but depending on what the Anti-Life did to him, he might not listen.

"I can certainly try. Can you take me to him?"

"Um." She flaps her wings lethargically, and winces. "Could I rest here for a moment?"

"You're from Santorini?" She nods. "I'll take us back."

Ring, plot course.

Compliance.

"Stand by for transition. Three-."

"Transition?" She frowns. "Like a play?"

"Yes. Our surroundings will be one thing one moment, and another thing the next. You shouldn't feel anything, but if you do then tell me immediately, alright?"

She nods.

"Three, two, one."

The sea where Themyscira should be vanishes, and is replaced by the island of Santorini. From what I can see the harpies have either carried on or gone back to their usual way of life. An advantage of a simple existence is that each part isn't dependent on a hundred other things happening just so. The only change I can see from my last visit -aside from the absence of the cruise liner- is that they've built a small jetty.

I frown as I try to work out how they could have done that with foot claws and without… They wouldn't even have saw blades. I could see them making a raft and anchoring it, but those are clearly sawn planks.

"Oh! The water-path! Yes, some humans from Greece built it, so they would have somewhere to tie their boat when they visit!"

"Why were there humans here?"

"They were sent by the ruler of Greece. They want to be able to talk to us regularly to make sure there aren't any more problems."

I nod. "How often do they visit?"

"In spring and in autumn."

Huh. A bit odd they bothered building a jetty, but maybe they wanted a boat big enough to make the trip at least somewhat comfortable, rather than a small boat it was practical to drag up the beach? We're not that close to the mainland here. Good on the Greek government for being proactive. Maybe they thought that they could charge extra for taking a select few tourists here?

"That way." She gestures with her wing towards a barren hillside. "There's a cave in the cliff. He's been living there."

"Rightoh."

I fly us in that direction, waving at a small flock who are out fishing for breakfast. Taking a look… Hm. I can see the residue of the Life Entity's touch, but more than that, the Anti-Life doesn't appear to have penetrated all that deeply into their psyches. And now I'm remembering my college psychology textbook, the part about under and over social regulation. The harpies know that the rest of the world exists, but they don't really interact with it. So the only culture they have is their own. The only lifestyle they know is their own.

Reject humanity. Return to birdie.

Scan-. Yeah. He's in there, lurking in the back. It's not a very deep cave, and if I'm reading his physiology right he's got absolutely no intention of attacking anyone.

"I assume that you've tried talking to him."

"Yes! And so has our younger brother and our parents."

"Alright." I lower the construct she's standing on onto one of the rocks outside. "I think I should talk to him on my own, so if you could just wait out here?"

She nods and hops off, claws clacking against the rocks as she grips them.

"What's his name?"

"His name is Dorian."

"Thank you." I land and walk over to the cave entrance. "Dorian? It's Orange Lantern. I was here with Diana a couple of years ago?"

My rings shows me him ruffling his wings slightly, but there's no other response.

"I'm coming in."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
08:09 GMT +3

Dorian's feathers look pretty dirty as he mantles himself and tries to press himself backwards into the wall.

"Dorian?"

"Leave me."

"I'm afraid that I won't be doing that. Your sister only gave me a vague idea of what happened."

"Daphne should not waste her time. What I did was unforgivable."

"Since she appears to have forgiven you, I'd say that you're factually wrong-."

"She hasn't forgiven me, she just lies to herself about what happened."

"Alright, ah…" I nod. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

"Everyone else on the island rejected the evil voice. I was the only one who listened. The only one who it… It made sense to."

"That might be the case around here, but on the mainland a lot of people went with it."

Though it raises the question of what's different about him.

"But I am not from the mainland. I am from here." He's spiralling. "None of my people-."

"So what's different about you? What is it that you do that the others don't?"

He shuffles awkwardly. "I look-. I was interested in the human ships."

"Okay?"

"Even before… Before you visited, I used to fly over to look at them when they were sailing nearby. I was probably the reason why they kept coming."

"Did you actually land on any of the ships?"

"I-. It-. No. I flew over them, or landed on a rock and watched them. It wasn't-. I was the first of us to land on the ship we stole. And after that I flew over to any ship that was in the area. I liked talking to the people-. Even if I couldn't understand them."

"Ah."

"Was that it, then? Was I wrong to do that?"

"No, but-. The Anti-Life has larger effects on people who aren't… Moored. Most harpies don't know other ways of life. But you saw a lot more."

He looks directly at me for the first time.

"So it was my fault."

"No, you just-. You were unlucky. Different people think in different ways, and you had the bad luck to encounter something that your way of thinking made you more vulnerable to. What did it tell you?"

His wings relax slightly. "The.. evil voice?"

"Yes."

"It didn't-. Tell me, it-."

"I understand. I heard it too. It's more like it's your own thoughts coming back at you. Things you don't like thinking about-."

"But you know that it's true. Yes, it was-. I… I said…"

He starts shrinking back in on himself.

"Please. Tell me."

"My own voice told me that I wanted to learn about humans because I recognised that we had done nothing for three thousand years. We live on the same island as our ancestors, we do the same things, tell the same stories, and nothing changes and nothing will until one day the humans will destroy us and it will probably be by accident. We rely on the fish, and they nearly drove them off without realising that we rely on them. There was no malice, but the big boat they use to sail around for fun did that. And-. And once they were no more able to make things than we are, but now they make things that we cannot imagine. That we physically cannot make."

His wings are fully drooping, his muscles relaxed.

"They will always become more than they are, and we… We may as well not exist."

"Mm. Yeah. Honestly, I'd go crazy living on an island this this."

"What?"

"What did you expect me to say? Just put it out of your head and stop thinking about it? It's not that simple. We both know that. What has been learned cannot be unlearned. The white light might have gotten the evil voice out of your head but you still know what you know."

"So, what? I just stay in this cave until I die?"

"What were you planning on doing?"

"I don't know! I don't.. know. It's like there's something missing in me, and I can't-. I don't know."

"Okay. So if you've got no real idea, any idea's better than what you're doing now. Right?"

"I-I don't know." … "Yes."

"We found the man who did it." His eyes widen. "He was a bandit chief trying to get weapons that would let him steal better. He made a pact with a god, and that god's magic gradually took him over."

"What happened to him?"

"The white light freed him too. So we put him to work as a wagoner."

"But he-. He did-."

"He didn't mean to, and the god's magic overwhelmed him. We could punish him, but he genuinely hates what he did and wants to make up for it. So we put him to work."

"Oh."

"If you did anything while you were under the influence? Whatever it was, it can't have been as much as him."

"No, I-. I stole-. I tried to steal a boat. The humans on it were-. They didn't seem to know what they were doing. I learned enough New Greek to give them some orders and they… Often, they obeyed. That was something else the voice said was normal."

"The strong give orders, the weak obey them."

"We don't obey our elders because they are stronger than us, we obey them because they know more, they have more experience. Because they care for our community-. I was so sure I was right. A-and I want to say I wasn't, but…"

"I have a suggestion. Come with me. I'll put you to work fixing things, and you can see some of the drawbacks of human civilisation. Once you know a bit more, you can have a think about whether you think your people need to change the way they live or not."

"That would be too arrogant of me."

"Have any of the elders ever been to mainland Greece?"

"I…" He frowns thoughtfully. "Think that Iolus did once."

"For long enough to learn how their society worked?"

"No."

"Then you'll know something that they don't, even if all you do is tell them about it. So how about it?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
08:20 GMT +3

"Dorian!"

The female harpy-. I should have asked her-

"H-hello Maia."

-what her name was. She flap-hops over to hug him, nose wrinkling only briefly at the smell.

"If you like, I can fix your feathers."

He makes eye contact with me over his sister's shoulders. "Yes. Please."

Okay, scan his sister so that I know what feathers look like when they're in good condition, then remove whatever dust, skin cells, sweat and other detritus has accumulated on his body, remembering that feathers need oil. Okay, that-.

Maia pulls away slightly as the orange wave finishes its work, sniffing curiously. Dorian frowns and sniffs his right wing. They make eye contact, and Maia laughs.

"It's better!"

Dorian ruffles his feathers and then steps past her. "I will-. Please tell our parents that I am leaving the island for a while."

"But-."

"I will be coming back once my head is clear. But I.. need to leave for now."

She nods.

"Don't worry, he's in good hands." I turn to Dorian as I rise into the air. "Shall we?"

He flaps his wings, rapidly gaining height as he rises off the cliff.

"Where are you going?"

"The Themysciran embassy in New York is still there, and the staff both speak Ancient Greek and know how to introduce people from the Greek mythos to modernity. But first we're going to spend a few hours doing a search of the area. The Greek government is concerned that without Themyscira around some other peoples might start getting rowdy."

"You should check on the sirens. I do not know if they are actually doing anything, but they had very bad habits in the past."

I nod. Despite some depictions showing them mermaids -and the notably weird one in Ducktails where they're giant angler fish lures, the sirens are actually demi-god harpies. A bit larger, a bit stronger, much longer lived and possessing a knack for manipulating the air to create entrancing sound. Diana wasn't entirely sure if the hypnotic element was inherently magical or if the hypnosis was just the result of exposing the human brain to that noise. Ancient Greeks didn't really distinguish between magic and feats of extreme skill.

I wonder what they'd think of Werner Vertigo's device? Wouldn't hurt to show them a copy.

"Are they still living on the same island?" Maia nods. "Then that's our first stop. Thank you."

I transition upwards, pulling level with Dorian.

"You sister wants us to look in on the sirens. Are you alright with doing that, or would you rather wait while I handle it?"

"I will come. They are less likely to be violent if I am with you."

"Rightoh. You may experience a moment of disorientation as we appear near their island."

He nods, continuing to flap. I attach a filament and-.

And we're there. What was once a series of small rocks sticking out of the ocean but is now a siren-made island of wood taken from wrecked ships. The sea is fairly shallow, strong currents easily able to smash a ship into the barely-submerged rocks.

Huh. So maybe the harpies could have built that jetty. It wouldn't have been easy, but the main issue would be getting the metal ore to make the saws-.

They're mind control specialists. They could just have gotten the surviving crew to build things before they ate them.

Not a lot of metal. Their action in grabbing a British ship during World War Two was what led to their first confrontation with Diana, and after that… No fibreglass either, so I suppose that they're behaving themselves. Scans show nothing, because they've had plenty of time to ward this place.

"Hello!"

"WHAT?!"

That.. was interesting. The air around me trembled, but there wasn't any entrancing property. And the air between me and the island didn't vibrate, so she wasn't just shouting.

"I said, 'hello'!"

The door of a structure that looks like a cabin that was ripped wholesale from the deck of a eighteenth century warship opens, and a somewhat dishevelled siren stalks out.

Though when I say dishevelled… That's a t-shirt. A printed t-shirt, long enough to serve as a nightie. Harpies don't bother with clothing. Their island is too small for raising wool animals or planting cotton, and their feathers cover… Well, the essentials.

"And I said 'what'?" She rubs her eyes with her wings. "I'm still on American time. What do you want?"

"To.. check that you were in good physical and psychological health."

She blinks up at me. "Yeah?"

"And your sisters?"

"Probably? They're all-. Wait." She appears to become more alert. "Do you think we all live here?"

"I hadn't researched the topic in detail, I just… assumed so."

"We don't-. Get down here." Dorian flies down at once, and I follow a moment later. Is that… Mascara? And lipstick? "We don't live here. After our fight with Diana, it didn't take us long to realise that the world had gotten a lot more interesting. So we talked about it, and then we went on a journey."

"Just… Wandering around, seeing the sights?"

"We paid our way by singing. Not hypnotic singing, just the regular kind. And it was a lot better than living on a pile of rotting wood."

"So… Why are you here?"

Her talons clench, gouging a furrow in the wood.

"That Anti-Life stuff-. They tried to make us sing it. It-." She ruffles her feathers. "I wanted to sleep somewhere familiar." She looks around. "But it turns out a mouldy pile of wood is a mouldy pile of wood. Next time I'm going to the Hilton."

"And please understand that I'm only asking this at the request of the Greek government-."

"We're not entrancing anyone-. Not ships, anyway. Not to wreck them. Once the music industry starts up again, we'll be back to work. But if you're looking for someone who isn't doing so great, I saw some statues of people on the mainland that-" She points. "-way."

"Greece does have a lot of stat-."

"As in petrified people. I think one of the gorgons is on the run again."

I nod. "Thank you for that information. Is there anything you need?"

"How fast are the banks going to be working again?"

"We're not prioritising it, so maybe a few months if you're talking about anything beyond local banking? Though if you and your sisters are interested in a commission, I could probably sort something out."

"I'll talk to them about it. You're with the Justice League, right?" I nod. "And who's the mute?"

"I'm Dorian."

"And why is the mute?"

"He got hit hard by the Anti-Life, and wants to see society outside of the islands."

"I can do that. My sisters and I can teach you modern human languages, show you around. How about it?"

Dorian looks at me for confirmation, and I just shrug. His choice. They've probably got cultural knowledge and time that I don't, but if he's reluctant then I'll do it.

He thinks for a moment, then nods. "Thank you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
08:28 GMT +3

Unusually new statues are easy to detect once I know what I'm looking for, and for the second time in my professional career I disconnect my own eyes. Diana has fought Medusa before, and the petrification gaze definitely isn't a Laundry Files-style transmutation effect, or a metaphor for an instinctive response to extreme ugliness. It's a magic effect, and she needed direct eye contact to petrify her targets.

And… Their clothes, apparently. That's a Justifier, and his helmet and armour are fully turned to stone along with his flesh. There's a small house built of stone and mortar up ahead, and I smile as I consider how much easier having a power ring makes something like this. Perseus did this with a blindfold and a shiny shield, and he was up against all three of them.

"Hello!"

"Just a moment!"

There's a strange sort of echo to the shout, but I assume that it's because the shout is travelling through an irregular space or something. I frown at the petrified goat leaning against the wall. Scan for-. Ah. A small scale farm, isolated location… Ah… Scan for-. Yes, several places that have been used to site an outhouse.

And then she steps out of the house. Unlike with the siren, there's nothing here disrupting my scans, but it still takes me a moment to get my head around what I'm seeing. She's wearing a mask, one with no eye holes and a gorgon decoration on the front.

"Who is it?"

"Orange Lantern, one of Princess Diana's students."

She pulls back slightly. "They attacked me!"

"Yes, I suspect that you're telling the truth. That's a Justifier, someone whose sense of self was destroyed by the Anti-Life to turn them into an obedient thug. Ah, I already deactivated my own eyes, so if you want to you can take the mask off."

"Deactivated-? No, I'll leave it on. I can't afford to keep petrifying my own goats. What do you mean, 'deactivated'?"

"I got into a fight with a man called Johnny Sorrow a while ago. He has an ability quite a lot like yours, but by severing my own optic nerve I was able to bypass it entirely."

"You blinded yourself?!"

"I can undo it. I just didn't want to take the risk of making accidental eye contact."

I hear a quiet hissing, as if from a dozen different mouths.

"Alright, Orange Lantern. What do you want?"

"Are you alright?"

"What?"

"The Greek government is in crisis, and the Amazons are absent. They're concerned that certain powerful individuals might take advantage-."

"No no no.. no. My sister-. I've made something of a life for myself here. How could I rule a country where everyone who makes eye contact with me turns to stone?"

Hm. I had considered this earlier, but with Medusa in Tartarus and no idea where the other two were, I never put it into practice.

"Does your power come from your eyes, or does that just trigger the connection? Or if you don't know-."

"No, it comes from our eyes. Circe checked for Medusa, many years ago. Why?"

"I could just replace your eyes as I've replaced mine several times. Either with cloned eyes, or with mechanical ones."

"Cybernetics?"

"Ah, I'm sorry. I wasn't sure whether you'd know the term or not."

"Hephaestus-. Hephaestaean sends me letters. Sent me letters. I don't get a lot of visitors."

"You do live out of the way, here."

I land in front of her, holding my hands out to the side palms upwards and fabricate both a cybernetic and an organic eye. Cloning tissue from innately magical individuals is a risky business, as what you get either isn't magical -and hence inclined to not work- or is magical -and so does the exact same thing as the original- but I think I know what I'm doing. If it's part of the spell Athena used, the swapping out the original eyes should be enough. In theory, it might even trigger her to turn back into a human, but magical inertia would usually prevent that.

"I can install either, but-."

"Come inside so that I can take a look without turning something to stone."

"Lead the way."

She walks back into her house, reaching up to pull off her mask the moment she's through the door. I follow her, letting the ring fill in for my eyes. Simple, well-construct furniture, the result of having unlimited time and… Well, hands.

"Huh."

She turns around to face me, laying the mask on a table as she does so.

"I thought you and the others were supposed to be ugly."

"Oh gods, tell me you're not some sort of snake-cultist. What were they called…? Cobra?"

"Kobra."

"That's what I-. With a 'K'?" I nod. "That doesn't even make sense. They're Hindu. Their original holy texts were written in Kannada."

"I thought they were from India?"

"No, 'Kannada' with a 'K', the Indian language."

"Ah, right. Well, their prophesied saviour was an American."

"And suddenly it makes sense."

"I'm not a member, though I admit to being familiar with the appearances of other species. Your face is still symmetrical, your scale-pattern is regular and-. Okay, the snakes are a bit disturbing, but I'm sure they could grow on a person."

"Yes. They did." She takes a step closer and picks up the cybernetic eye. "And this… Works?"

"Assuming that your body is mostly normal flesh, yes, they will work. I'd offer to implant one in myself as a demonstration, but that would risk turning me to stone. Oh! Ah, semi-related issue, I can also fully upgrade your house if you want. I imagine that you find getting work done a little difficult."

"New eyes and a new house. You're kind of leaning into the snake-fetishist thing…"

"I like fixing problems. And I'm affianced, so that's not an issue. Though… I do know a few people who might be, if you want me to put you in contact? You're basically human on the inside, and this sort of isolation isn't psychologically healthy."

"I'm… Not sure. I've had my eyes for a long time."

"Heh. To quote the author Sir Terrance Pratchett, 'my bum has been a bum for a very long time, but I don't have to listen to anything it says'."

"Hah! Uh. I don't think that one of Diana's students would lie to me, I just-."

I close my eyes and reconnect my optic nerve. Then I step close enough that her snake hairs could bite and deactivate my environmental shield.

"I'll replace them one at a time, and you can bite me if it doesn't work. I'd swear an oath to Gaea again, but the grove went with the island."

"Uh." Oh, I-. Probably violated her personal space there. "Uh. Okay, then. I've never liked my right eye anyway."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
08:44 GMT +3

I wave my rune stone around another part of Mount Olympus that should register as thaumically active. No reaction, not even something indicating a residue of an old spell. Whatever happened was surprisingly thorough.

Euryale blinks excessively hard as she looks around the mountainside.

"Managing alright over there?"

"Some-. I'm seeing things that I haven't seen before."

"Do you remember what your vision was like when you were a human?"

Whatever Athena did to transform her it wasn't bound to her eyes, though we proved that the petrification effect was by testing it on a sparrow.

"I thought that I did. Is this how humans see things?"

"The cybernetic eyes can see a far wider range of colours than human eyes, but by default it just has a slight expansion on the normal visual range so that your brain can cope."

"Do they need to be cleaned or maintained?"

"They're designed to be cleaned in the same way as organic eyes. Just blink every so often-. Not like that; I mean naturally. As for repairs, I'd normally say 'no', but given how long gorgons appear to live…"

Ring, appointment calendar.

Compliance.

"You should be able to contact me by the Themysciran embassy at any time, but I'll make a note to seek you out in fifty years and make sure that they're still working properly."

"Thank you."

Her eyes-. She's sort of trying to look at me with three thousand plus years of instinct telling her not to make eye contact with the helpful human. But since we tested this I just fly directly in front of her and stare into her eyes. Her eyes momentarily widen in shock, then she realises what happened and smiles, bowing her head slightly.

"Can I offer eyes like these to my sisters?"

"To Stheno, certainly. To Medusa… I'm not sure whether she has a material body or not, but I don't think that Lord Hades is going to be moderating her punishment anytime soon. Whatever offence the gods gave her, she took it out on a lot of people."

"Offering it to Stheno would be difficult as well; she was on Themyscira."

"Um. Did they know that she was there?"

"Princess Diana did; I don't know who else she told. She wanted to live somewhere with people who wouldn't forget to avoid her gaze."

"Bit of a shame that there isn't a simple reversal for it, really. It would be easy enough for me to track down the parts of old and broken statues."

"I-. No, it doesn't work. Even if you turned them back into flesh they would still be dead. Circe tried that once."

"She undid your petrification spell?"

"No, she created a spell that did the same thing and then reversed that."

"I'm… Assuming this was some time ago…"

"Oh, yes. This was back when Circe had only recently become immortal. She wouldn't have visited us without being sure that she could avoid petrification herself."

"Okay. Did you have any other ideas about getting into Olympus?"

"I never studied magic in any detail. I can tell you where most of the old paths are-. Or, were. But that's it. It's not like any of the gods like me."

Yeah, that's… Fair. Huh. I wonder-.

"ERIS HAS A FAT ARSE!"

Euryale shrinks back. "What?"

"She's nominally my patron. I haven't actually spoken to her directly for a little while so-."

Splat!

…

I wipe the custard pie off my face.

"I know that's a classic, but this isn't really the time-."

There's writing on the foil case. I-.

The pie is construct-proof.

That would be interesting to study if not for the fact that the construct-proofing means that I can't put it into subspace. Instead, I shake the remains of the pie out and read it.

"'To: Pavlos. If you're reading this, then you've become too predictable. This is automatic. Try harder. Eris.'"

Okay, and true, but that doesn't actually help me-.

The pie case isn't construct-proof, so I can put it into subspace and get a wizard to try using it to track her. That's very nearly progress.

"What?"

"Eris and I have an irregular relationship. She-."

"She p-p-hah-hah-hah-haha!"

"It's a classic for a reason-. I've still got some on my face, haven't I?" Fabricate a damp flannel and a mirror, wipe… "Right, ah… This has been fun, but the world's in a pretty sorry state at the moment and I need to get back to work. Are you aware of any other Greek mythos persons of interest who might need 'managing' after being exposed to the Anti-Life?"

"How many people do you think I meet in a year?"

"Yes, that's a reasonable point. Anything else I can build for you?"

"No, I'm fine with just the oven. I wouldn't know what to do with modern appliances."

I nod. "Transition in two, one." And we're back at her house.

"Thought… Ah." She looks awkward.

"Do you want me to show your picture to men who might be interested in snake women? I could just give you a computer so you can set up a dating profile."

"Those things are a terrible way to meet people. I'm not saying-. If there was someone you could refer personally?"

"No one springs to mind immediately, but I'll ask around. Good day."

I transition upwards, to the edge of the atmosphere. I'm glad I could help her, I really am, but the rest of the world-. And I haven't found anyone who might be causing magic-based trouble in Greece. Ah. Maybe they didn't have a specific individual in mind, and it was just an in-case thing?

Ring, scan the country, and if you don't find anything then I'll just give them an emergency beacon-.

Missus Hall? What's sheshit!

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
08:49 GMT +3

Hippolyta Hall, also known as Fury due to the fact that the Erinyes granted her the same superstrength, speed and toughness as her mother at the same cost: when she gets properly angry one of them takes over her body. There was a very good reason why she was so adamant about her retirement and didn't want to visit Thanagar. Her self-control used to be pretty good, but then she spent a month exposed to the Anti-Life.

"…couldn't help it!"

The young man thrusts out his hands, electricity leaping out of them and missing Fury as she blurs sideways.

"You can explain yourself to Hades."

My ring tracks her lunging faster than my eyes can keep up with, and my construct barricade is there blocking her path. She slams into it, cracking construct cement and bending construct girders, standing still for a moment before looking up at me.

"Keep out-."

"Of this, Lantern?" I roll my eyes as she bares her teeth. "Which of the Erinyes am I talking to?"

"I am Tisiphone, and I deal out righteous punishment to murderers."

I look at the young man, who appears torn between fleeing and keeping still to avoid drawing attention to himself.

"Him?"

"I-I wanted to be a hero."

"Many heroes were murderers." Her eyes narrow at me. "This one, for example."

"Fortunately, my murders weren't committed on Earth and so are outside of your jurisdiction."

"If I did not have a better target I would come for you anyway."

"Your host will reassert herself eventually. You don't have time to come after someone who can avoid you by flying away." I turn to the lightning-wielder. "You were a Justifier?" He nods. "Come on Tisiphone, you can't punish someone for what the person controlling them made their body do."

"His mind was still his own. A drunkard can still be punished for killing while drunk."

"Oh, that's not the same."

"The Anti-Life added nothing to their thoughts. It granted no one control of their minds."

"Then how do you explain the fact that they all started acting completely differently?"

"They changed their minds after being shown the Anti-Life."

"Right, so-."

"It counts."

Which is probably all of the consideration I'm getting.

"So your plan is to kill everyone affected by the Anti-Life?"

"I would like to. But I am willing to limit myself to their leader."

"Mannheim?"

"Alpha Centurion Marcus Aelius."

Marcus… Is on the missing persons list. The very long missing persons list, that also has Vincent Edge and my clone on it among many others. He was effectively 'leader' of the Justifiers, hunting down anyone Mannheim took exception to but who wasn't powerful enough to warrant sending Finality Man after or hunting down himself. He killed a lot of people, and I'm not sure if we actually found him it wouldn't be as a corpse with his own sword through his chest.

But as far as I'm concerned, it's not like being drunk. It's far more than that. It's an arcane power messing with your thoughts, and it's well within the bounds of what should pass blame onto the ultimate source and not dump it on their proxy.

"So what are you doing here?"

"This wretch worked with him. He has information for me."

"I don't know-."

"And I shall shrive his body until he produces it."

"I don't know where he is! When-when we were Justifiers, we didn't-. It all just-. It just flowed-. We knew what we were supposed to do, where we were supposed to be… When it-. When it stopped, I was-. I was so horrified that I didn't pay any attention to what was happening. He could be anywhere! He has a spaceship!"

Ring, contact the Pax Romana.

Compliance.

…

Anything?

Communication protocols for instant communication in use. No acknowledgement received.

"Tisiphone, I disagree with your assessment of the Anti-Life. I would like arbitration."

"By who?"

"Lady Themis."

Missus Hall's face curdles even further. Yes, Themis and Tisiphone don't have the best relationship, what with the former's insistence on due process and fairness and the latter's psychotic rage. But hers is the penultimate word on divine justice in the Olympian pantheon and the ultimate word is Hephaestaean, who would be likely to accept my counsel. The question is, how much does Tisiphone actually care?

Why is she smiling?

"I will give you three days to get her decision. If she does not countermand me, I will kill every 'Justifier' on the Earth. Do we have an accord?"

"No, that's asinine. You know perfectly well that the Olympians have become disconnected from Earth. I'm not going to agree to something that would bind me from acting against you when you go psycho. Or something that would help you keep control of that body because 'I will kill' requires you to be around."

"Then I will simply kill them anyway."

"Have you killed any already?"

"Yes."

I smile. That's that little mystery cleared up, then.

"You killed them?"

"Yes."

"And Lyta Hall didn't."

"No."

"But all she has to do is not be angry and you can't control her. Drunk murderers are still murderers."

"You might have a point. But with the gods absent there is no one who can order me to stop. So I don't care."

I form a construct railgun and load mage slayers. "The stupid way it is, then."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
08:53 GMT +3

When fighting certain types of magical opponent, it's important not to do things that make them stronger. For example, when fighting a being who embodies retribution, don't strike the first blow unless you've got really good lawful authority.

"By the authority vested in me-"

My girder-constructs shatter as she tears them apart.

"-by the government of the Hellenic Republic-"

I drop a swarm of x-ionised knives between her and her target just as the rock she threw at my face shatters on my construct armour because I'm not a moron.

"-I am placing you under arrest."

And obviously you have to state it clearly in a way that the person you're talking to can't pretend they didn't know about, because the point isn't to make you stronger but to make them weaker.

Tisiphone jumps the knives, putting her in line with my railgun in a position where she can't dodge.

Fire. At low power because I'm trying to knock Tisiphone out of Mrs. Hall, not kill her.

And there's a knife in front of my eyes! She-. She grabbed a x-ionised knife and threw it-.

Construct lost.

One at me and another through the mage slayer and into the construct hard enough to wreck it. X-ionised weapons don't work especially well as throwing weapons but if she takes it upon herself to use them in melee then that might be a problem.

So I lift the lightning-thrower off the ground and out of 'super jumping' range before she can throw all of them at me, and stick construct armour around him as well. Now, this will be easiest if I can just break her out of whatever rage let Tisiphone take control in the first place, but since I don't know what that is… Quick check on the 'persons of interest' list…

"Missus Hall, Hector and Daniel are doing as well as can be expected. I'm sure they'll be-"

And there are the rest of the knives, biting into the armour but failing to penetrate. And…

And she's gone.

Ring, where is she?

Not found.

Darn it. I turn to my rescuee. "If you know anything-?"

"I don't know where he went! I am… Ugh. I'm not cut out to be a superhero. I would have-. Would have sold him out if she-."

I nod. "Is she focusing on particular people?"

"She said something-. She's working through.. everyone who actually worked with Alpha Centurion. But-but most of us barely met him!"

"It's-."

"She knew him better than we did!"

That makes an unfortunate amount of sense. I don't know what the Anti-Life would have said to Mrs. Hall to make her fall under its sway-. Or…

"Do you know where your former comrades are?"

"Some of them. There was only one Alliance base in Greece, but I worked with a lot of people from other places and…" He twitches. "When we were Justified… Personal stuff didn't matter."

So she almost certainly doesn't know either, unless-.

"Was she teaching classes?"

"I don't know. She was.. there, though. I remember because I thought it was strange that an American superhero spoke Greek."

Which means that Mrs. Hall probably does have a list. Does Tisiphone get everything in her head? Don't know.

Ah. It's a long shot, but, ring? Access Alliance records.

Partial records recovered.

Did she teach any classes?

Hippolyta Hall taught 'Introduction to Super Strength'. Recorded attendees list available. Warning, list is incomplete.

Compare list to post-Anti-Life confirmed deaths?

Updating.

There aren't that many people with superstrength in the world. And jokes aside most of them don't accidentally rip their surroundings apart, except when under stress. But if you want to be a superhero then you have to avoid accidentally ripping suspects apart while under stress. Or if your small child develops superstrength like Cassandra, whenever they're over-excited. So it was a great class for her to teach, as she'd had superstrength for most of her life as well as plenty of experience of living around superheroes.

"What can you do?"

Okay, she's fast but she's not Flash-fast. Next closest person I know that she met-

"I can throw lightning. I can-. Sort of fly, but I'm not very good at it yet. She knocked me out of the air and I couldn't get up again."

-is in Thessaloniki.

"What are you calling yourself?"

"Son of Zeus?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you?"

"No. Not literally."

"Alright Zeusson, I don't know where Fury went, so we're about to check a lot of places really quickly. If you think of anything relevant, pipe up."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Avoid dying. Two, one."

A house-. The street is completely intact. One woman inside matching the description. Not under attack, not under stress.

"Hey, that's-"

Next location. And start monitoring news sites and street journalism sites. If she's wrecking places then there should be signs.

"-Titaness."

Another street in another part of Greece. No Mrs. Hall. Another. Another. And that's it as far as Greeks who are still alive go. Access police reports. Compare autopsies to the results of Tisiphone's prior rampages.

Matches available.

Compare to Alliance classes. Did Marcus pick his co-workers from anywhere in particular?

Matches available.

Great, basically pure luck. Nothing from media sources. Try anyway. Transition. Nothing. Transition, nothing. Transition, nothing. Tran-.

I slam face first into the ground!

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
08:56 GMT +3

Armour! And phone-!

Someone yanks on my arm and throws me-. Uh, throws me into a wall. Solid stone. My kinetic barrier flares on impact, and then… Shuts down? Causing me to drop to the floor.

Phone Daniel Hall.

Compliance.

Arms into a defensive pose prepare cold gun-.

"Lantern?"

Take in my environment and lower my arms. "Centurion?"

Marcus's armour had… Visibly been upgraded with Apokoliptian technology, and there's a young man with a lighter version behind him sharing nervous looks with Son of Zeus.

"Yes." He looks around the room. "Automator, you must reset your traps as quickly-"

The young man nods and darts over to.. some sort of sparking device built into the wall.

"-as possible."

"You were trying to trap Fury."

"To trap and calm her, yes. I was too slow to save-."

"I've read the reports. Why are you still wearing Apokoliptian armour?"

"I've been… Busy. Was Fury following you?"

"No, she got away from me and I was trying-."

"Trying to-" He nods. "-get ahead of her."

"Y-yeah?"

"Excuse me. Daniel? Orange Lantern here."

"What is it?"

"We've found your mother. Unfortun-"

"Where?"

"-ately, she's being controlled by Tisiphone. Greece."

"You need me to try and talk her down? It's not always that easy."

"I'd appreciate it if you could try anyway. Please stay on the line."

"Sure, yeah."

"Centurion, do you know what set her off?"

"Yes. She was useful. To me. When I was leading the Justifiers. Strength, endurance, speed… And the magic of one of the Eumenides. One of the few acts of true initiative I was permitted was to try to infect Tisiphone herself with the Anti-Life."

"Were you successful?"

"I was never certain, but I made her suffer greatly."

He pauses for a moment.

"She has killed other Justifiers, hasn't she?"

"Apparently her idea of what constitutes a murderer doesn't make allowances for mind control. They're valid targets."

"I do not believe that."

"Learning her motive might help get her out of Fury. What do you think?"

"I hardly think that Fury murdered anyone before the Anti-Life took her. Do you know what happens when a person blessed by the Furies offends against them?"

"No."

"This."

Marcus flies across the room, smashing into Automator and whatever he was building! Son of Zeus steps back so that his back is against the solid stone wall and generates a plasma field around himself. Good. I throw out construct cables and electrify them, because power armour is insulated while Fury is-

"Eh."

-wearing her usual minimalistic costume.

Construct lost.

Though it's not enough to take her down, given how tough she is.

"Lyta, Daniel for you!"

"Mom? Are you there?"

Construct lost. / Construct lost. / Construct lost.

My construct armour fractures and the armour beneath deforms from the force of her strike! As my ring speeds up my thoughts I can sort of make out the blur that is Mrs. Hall's face, and send out cables-.

Construct lost.

She's moving position, not staying still to hit me because she knows that speedsters can be caught in area attacks like that. Marcus is picking himself up-.

He's down again, his helmet cratered by a kick.

"Mom, lots of people did-. Did stuff when the Anti-Life got into their heads. Going crazy isn't gunna help. And you know Tisiphone just likes killing people."

She hits me and the outer armour around my left arm fractures, held together by the flexible inner layer. Another strike is angled at my neck but is partly deflected by the fact that my armour has a dome rather than a helmet.

I try-. Agh! Right, shielded, goddess of vengeance. What else? Can't use gas because Son of Zeus isn't wearing a gas mask and Mrs. Hall would need lots of gas to put her down.

Perhaps trying to calm Mrs. Hall down is the wrong approach?

"Tisiphone, you shouldn't hold yourself responsible for what the Anti-Life made-"

Alert! Construct Lanterns-

Orange hands grab me and shove me to the ground, the Construct Lanterns faces contorted into expressions of murderous wrath! I didn't even kill those-.

"-you do!"

Tisiphone slows, picking up-. Picking up the demonically enhanced Nabu helmet and walking towards me.

"They should."

"You saw Darkseid's wrath as being righteous, didn't you? That's what it did to you, how it got to you."

"Go on, put me on him. We can make everyone suffer as they deserve!"

Tisiphone shoves her left hand through the base of my dome helmet and rips it off!

"We've all felt it. We all know what it's like. I've seen other gods be taken by it as well. There's always a stronger power out there somewhere, and you ran into one that likes to use other people as tools. Likes to make them go against their most cherished ideals."

Her face twitches, but she stops moving.

"Marcus was in the same place as you. The others as well, for the most part. Do you really see Marcus-?"

A lightning bolt hits her in the side of the head, and she collapses to the ground.

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th March 2013
09:00 GMT +3

"Was..? That right?"

"No it wasn't ri-!"

I pull my rogue Construct Lanterns back into my rings as I push myself up, armour flickering with orange light as it knits back together. Oh, so apparently they believed that they were murdered. It looks like the magical definition of 'murder' is a lot more subjective than I thought it was.

"Mom?! Orange Lantern, what happened?"

I use constructs to pick up Mrs. Hall's recumbent form and check-. Good, good, heart still beating and still breathing on her own. Hard to get good readings on brain activity with someone as tough as her but from what I can detect she's still functioning.

"She's alive. Took a lightning bolt to the head. I'll check that Tisiphone's gone and then take her to a hospital."

"Thank God. I'll tell Dad. Call me back with the name of the hospital?"

"Of course." I hear the click as he rings off. "Did your lessons cover aftermaths?"

"Huh?"

I bind Fury's arms and legs with kinetic neutralisation manacles. "What you're supposed to do when the fighting is over."

"Hand everything over to the police?"

I raise my right arm and point at Automator. "Check your friend isn't dead."

"Shi-."

He darts over and helps the other youth up. Since Automator's armour doesn't have any sort of anti-magic system, I can see perfectly well that he's still alive. He'll have some nasty bruises and his armour's going to need some work, but that's about it. Marcus on the other hand… Well, he's unconscious, so the shattered jaw isn't hurting him, but that's not the only injury he's carrying.

Add an extra layer of super strength bindings to Mrs. Hall. Now, strength feat-wise she's never demonstrated anything on the level of Superman -who I know for a fact can bust out of this restraint system in thirty three seconds flat, because he let me test it on him- so it should be enough even if Tisiphone comes back… But that's barring exotic effects, and she's a minor goddess so barring them from consideration would be stupid. On the other hand, I'm not going to try removing the super toughness of someone who just got lightninged in the head. She might be fine with it, or it might kill her.

"Alpha Centurion?"

Automator's helmet is off-. He's a teenager, a young teenager. I'd say something about that, but it would be a bit hypocritical. I send my own armour to subspace and march across to Marcus, politely pushing Automator aside as I send filaments into Marcus's armour. Releases are there, there and there. Send filaments inside to… Hold the parts of his face together, not technically necessary as I can just replace them but it will probably stop the other two being sick, and remove the helmet.

"Oh God. Is he dead?"

"No. Help me remove his armour, both of you."

Again, not necessary, but if they're going to make a career out of this they should get into good habits.

"Right!"

Hold his jaw in shape and then take a purple healing ray out of subspace and shoot him with it.

"Is that a healing ray?"

"Yes. You're familiar with the technology?"

Automator nods as he removes Marcus's pauldrons. "I've read up on everything you and Mister Kord have released. Ah, should his mouth be bleeding like that?"

"Bleeding from anywhere's not really ideal. See where his cuirass caved in here?"

"Ooh. Hey, Micha-." There's a quiet 'clank' as Michasomething slaps him across the cuirass before Automator can say his whole name. "Son of Zeus?"

I remove the cuirass and start-. There are a lot more scars than last time I scanned him, and it doesn't look like much care was taken in the chirurgery. I briefly consider leaving them in place, but since everyone I've made that offer to has turned it down and he's unconscious anyway I just patch him up with my ring. Arms and legs get the same treatment a moment later. The purple healing ray has mostly dealt with the concussion, so that's not so much of an issue…

"Hm."

"What happens now?"

"Automator, how good are you at power armour?"

"Oh, this isn't the best I can make. I've just got a small workshop. But I.. don't know alien technology. I can't fix his armour."

"Fair enough."

I try transmuting the Apokoliptian technology components, but they're… Resisting, still. So I settle for cutting through the virmiru components around them and just dumping them. I'll stick them on the research pile when I get back to the Watchtower. Fortunately, virmiru technology is considerably less arcane, and between the ring's database and previous scans I can restore his armour to its old functionality.

"Are you lads going to be alright if I send you home?"

Son of Zeus shakes his head. "We should stay until we see what she wakes up as. She killed people, and it's not-. She got freed from the Anti-Life at the same time as the rest of us. Tisiphone should be punished."

"True. Unfortunately, she's not actually in Fury's body, she's just connected to it."

"So where's her real body?"

"Don't know. Olympus, probably. And that's been cut off from the Earth." I shrug. "There's no real way to hold her to account now, and there might not ever be one. I'll ask if it comes up, but…"

He frowns. "That-. That's not right."

"I suggest focusing on what you can fix."

"Oh no." I turn around as Mrs. Hall blinks at the world. "She-she-."

"Yes, I'm afraid that she did. Are you yourself?"

She nods as much as her harness allows her to, and I begin the process of unlocking it.

"H-how's Alpha Centurion?"

"He's physically fine. He should wake up within the next hour."

"And the-. The others? She killed them, didn't she?"

"She did. She took the fact that they used the Anti-Life on her personally, even after it was removed."

"God, God I should have got rid of her years ago, I just-. I had it under control until… Until this."

"Well… Not much to be done, now. Why don't I take everyone home?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 12

21st September 2039
14:54 GMT -5

"Uh-h-h-huh."

Silly old fool.

I wince as I try clearing my throat, despite knowing perfectly well that there's no obstruction. This is what happens when you overdo it. You know it does, it does every time, but rather than bring a bodyguard you just have to do it yourself.

And once again, I…

"Mister Wynne?" The lawyer -Steven Carmichaels- looks at me solicitously. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"No, no, it's…" I shake my head, looking over to the police officers guarding the ward where Dr. Cuvier is recovering from his overdose. "An interesting story, actually."

"Oh?" He smiles like the perfect corporate relations lawyer that he is. He isn't forty and yet he's the junior partner who gets sent out when I get 'creative'. One of the senior partners will handle the case, but the initial fieldwork doesn't warrant them turning up in person. On the other hand, I'm a significant enough part of the firm's income to get someone who's in the ascendancy. "Do tell."

"You're probably too young to remember thalidomide. It was-."

"Oh, no, Mister Wynne. I wrote a paper on it in college. From the point of view of class action law."

"Oh, very good. Did you go into the human trials they did before it was cleared for commercial use?"

"Not in detail, no. I know they would have had to do some-."

"They did, they did." I nod. "But because the testing was done on volunteers, it was skewed towards the sort of people who would volunteer for medical trials. Which resulted in the test batch being entirely comprised of male medical students. For a drug they wanted to use to fight morning sickness in pregnant women."

"Je-sus."

"Didn't test it on a single pregnant woman. Hm." I look aside as the images of some of the drug's first and second wave victims pass through my mind. "Sample bias. You draw conclusions from… Your tests, and it turns out that there's another set that behaves differently in the same situation."

I reach up with my right hand to feel my scar again. Yes, still there.

"When I got into the business of working with recovering supervillains, I made a point of reading up on psychological literature relating to… Extreme personalities. So that I could recognise warning signs, people who… Could learn to fit in, but couldn't properly be rehabilitated. Unfortunately, the sample of the general population which the literature covered had some fairly large holes. Psychopaths who come to the attention of the police are overwhelmingly male, so the literature tends to cover their behaviours. And as anyone who's studied autism can tell you, disorders can manifest very differently in men and women."

I sigh.

"I didn't recognise the warning signs, so I got a knife in my throat. Bloody thing actually went through one side and out the others. Sheer luck that it didn't hit anything vital, but the scar tissue still causes a few issues."

"You've… Certainly had an interesting life. What..? Happened to-? Her?"

"Ms. Smith was arrested, sent to a secure hospital… Someone broke her out eventually, and she turned up dead a few weeks after that. Not due to one of my employees, in case you were wondering."

"Mister Wynne, I'm a lawyer. As far as I'm concerned, even if it was one of your employees, it wasn't one of your employees."

"You'll go far with that-" A police sergeant steps out of the ward and gestures for us to enter. "-attitude."

We rise from our seats and walk inside. Dr. Cuvier is laying in bed, his face… Since they 'cured' him, he doesn't look quite like his publicity pictures. His face is a little rounder, his skin a little darker and his eyes actually look normal.

He must hate it.

"Mister Wynne." He pulls on his right arm, handcuffs rattling where they're clamped around the bed rail. "I wasn't expecting… I didn't think you were interested in splicing."

Mr. Carmichaels raises a hand. "One moment, doctor." He turns around and sticks his head out of the door. "Since I am now meeting with my client, this conversation is covered by attorney-client confidentiality. I understand that you need to stay on guard duty, but nothing you hear can be used in evidence."

He pulls his head back in and firmly closes the door. I put my case down on a side table and open it, pulling out a sonic barrier. Set it up.. and on… There, that should do it.

Dr. Cuvier frowns faintly as I sit down next to him. "I'm a little surprised that you're interested in supporting me. You've had access to splicing technology for decades, yet you never used it."

"Barbara would have hated it if I had. She found her own transformation quite traumatic, the blend of instincts, the dysphoria… And I'm not sure how well my body would cope with a radical physical transformation at my age."

Dr. Cuvier nods. "While we're on the subject, I always wondered why you never employed Doctor Emile Dorian-."

I snort. "Why I didn't offer the cat-splicing obsessive a job? That was because of the hundreds of disturbingly creepy letters he sent Barbara, before and after she and I were married."

"Oh."

"I mean, I thought that she looked good as Cheetah too, but I knew when to back off. But… But the reason why I'm-. We're here."

"Yes."

"I was pleased to see that your company developed a splicing technique that was properly patentable. Barbara only tolerated researching strictly medical applications, but-."

"But the whole point is to transcend human limits! I feel so-. Slow like this. Do you think they'll let me splice myself back to… Me, before the trial?"

"No." I shake my head. "Even if you could -and after what happened you need to be seen by specialists before you even think of splicing again- the optics would be terrible."

He looks away, then nods. "Fine. For now."

"So, broadly, this is how we're going to approach this. Splicing using your technique is safe. A small number of people carried out crimes after being spliced, but they represent a small minority of the total number of people who used the technology, and since they were overwhelmingly from demographic groups disproportionately inclined to commit crimes relative to the general population it's hardly surprising that the crime rate was similarly elevated."

He nods cautiously. There's actually a little more to it than that. The sort of people who actually want to alter their bodies like that are… Well, usually people unhappy in their own skins. People alienated from their own lives, and projecting that onto their own bodies. And those are just the sort of people to get completely fixated on their 'true' bodies. Really, Dr. Cuvier's biological screening process was good but he did very little psychological screening at all, and that would have become a problem eventually whatever else happened. Just look at the D&D satanic panic for an example of what can happen when a mentally ill person gets hold of a perfectly harmless product and people decide to blame the set-dressing.

"The attack on the District Attorney was an impulsive act carried out by some of your supporters after they found out that he would be illegally and immorally forcing them to revert. He unlawfully ordered attacks on them first. When you injected Batman you used the first weapon that came to hand on someone who broke into your office, and anything that happened as a result was his fault. You went into hiding because the District Attorney was clearly acting unlawfully against you and you feared for your safety, and your final rampage happened after Batman forcibly injected you contrary to good practice when using splicing serums."

He nods slowly. "Do you think that will work?"

Mr. Carmichaels shakes his head. "No. Not in Gotham. We're going to have to take this to a higher level to get the individual autonomy issues settled. The State Supreme Court, or perhaps the Federal Supreme Court. Realistically, we should be able to get you released on bail inside a week or two, but a final verdict could take up to five years. Depending on whether or not the Supreme Court agrees to hear the issues involved."

"Are you handling the cases of my employees as well?"

I nod, and he relaxes slightly.

"Then I will have to be patient."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th March 2013
03:15 GMT -5

Dr. Balewa crouches down, holding his hands out towards the Lazarus Pit like a man warming his hands on a fire.

"There are not many of these places in the world."

I nod. "And?"

"Your surmise was correct. The site is rejuvenated and can be used again. But I am not convinced thet this is the best use for it."

"We can resurrect maybe… Thirty people? How would you make that choice?"

"I would not. I am not God."

I nod. "Zauriel?"

"I am reminded of the Book of Job. Though the absence of those we love may be painful, the Lord of Hosts does not promise that the universe of His creation will be free from strife. These are tests for mortals to endure in life, with the certainty that it is in His most holy realm that a full accounting will be made."

"But you can't see any reason why this would cause any sort of demonic problem?"

"That is not the sole metric by which you should evaluate your actions, but no. That will not happen here. Those who died were heroic Christians, and their souls are moving towards unification with the Most High."

"And no one is going to throw a wobbler about this?"

Zauriel shakes his head. "No. A delay of a few decades is not offensive to the divine order. But even by your standards, I am not sure that their lives are more worth saving than others who have died. If it were my choice, I would give the damned a second chance, having seen the consequences of their decisions."

"I am afraid thet is not possible." Dr. Balewa pulls his hands in and stands up. "The bodies of all of those who died while they were exposed to the Anti-Life, their bodies were not purified. Restoring them to life would not be safe."

"That is unfortunate."

"You're sure that the Kings won't have a problem with it?"

"Unlike you, we accept the nature of the universe. That includes things that may temporarily remove things from the Lord's loving embrace. But have you reflected upon your own motives?"

"I don't need to. I'm doing it because I don't want Missus Hall to feel guilty."

"And not the minor divine Tisiphone?"

"Gosh, no. She could do with feeling more guilt. Might make her hesitate more before killing people for what they were because someone mind controlled them."

Zauriel nods slowly. "Yes. Guilt can be a powerful tool for moral education."

I turn towards Dr. Balewa. "Doctor, this hit me in the face earlier." I take the pie dish out of subspace and offer it to him. "Can you use it to track where Olympus is, and where Themyscira is?"

He moves it around in his hands, studying it carefully.

"No. The sudden removal of the Anti-Life and its replacement with the White Light has caused an upheaval in the thaumosphere. The old paths between realms are no longer stable or secure. Once things are calmer, then I can use it to track the gods of the Hellenes."

"Okay, thank you, keep it with you until then. I'll go and-. Go and get permission from the next of kin to attempt the resurrections."

6th March 2013
17:34 GMT +5

The young woman flails at me as I use a construct to pull her newly-reanimated body out of the pit. Empathic vision shows… Her mind is intact but confused, which is perfectly in-line with expectations. There isn't much point in trying to get through to her while the initial shock wears off a little, and… There isn't much that she could do to me. 'Naiad' has a small water-manipulation ability, most likely as a result of non-human heritage, but she's only ever been able to move relatively small volumes at not particularly high pressure. Honestly, she could do more working as a leak inspector for the Greek water authority, but if she wants to be a superhero then I suppose that I would be a bit of a hypocrite to tell her not to.

Perhaps this experience might make her reconsider.

I deposit her on the solid ground at the side of the now-exhausted pit and use my rings to remove as much of the residue as possible before recreating her costume around her. It's a bit basic -a wet suit with a logo sprayed on- but with a little luck the point of familiarity will encourage her to realise where she-.

I wince slightly as she pulls at the liquid inside my eyes as she stumbles to her feet. I can keep it in place using my rings but there's a slight delay and it feels really weird. Blinding suspects by making their eyes explode is discouraged in Justice League rules of engagement, but is not technically forbidden. I just don't do it to other people because I have better options, but for a water-manipulator it's distracting and makes it hard to see.

A flash-bang would still be better.

"Naiad? Are you there?"

She's staring at me, not quite seeing but not looking particularly happy with the situation.

"Naiad?"

"Gwuh..?" The water in my eyes stops moving and her eyes become a little more focused. Good. "Wha..?"

"You were rather badly injured, and-."

"Fury! She wanted to know where Alpha Centurion is! She's going to kill him!"

"Thank you for the warning. You'll be pleased to know that the evil spirit that was controlling Fury has been removed and everyone is safe. You're the last to recover."

She stares for a moment, then reaches up to feel her neck.

"We fixed that. You should be fine, but if you feel any remaining injuries, let me know."

Zauriel was right. All of the resurrections went off without issue. Which I suppose means that I can assume that we can use these on non-damned monotheistic people.

Naiad looks around. "Where are we?"

"The Russian Federation." I transmute the material of the pit into soil. "Don't worry, I can take you home in a few moments. Your parents are expecting you."

"Okay. But… What happens now? I mean-. You know, right?"

"To Greece, or the world in general?"

"Superheroes. People who joined the Alliance because we-. We wanted to help."

"There's nothing stopping you from doing that on your own initiative. Fury… Isn't going to be available as a trainer for a while, but if you're interested I can have a word with Alpha Centurion. But I suggest that for now you just get on with normal life."

I send another message to the Pax Romana, to go with those of everyone else I've resurrected. These people got Anti-Lifed, died and when they got back up they still wanted to get back to it. Just looking for a little guidance.

"I'll take you back now."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th March 2013
22:21 GMT

I pull open the door to-

"Are you looking for a book?"

-a reading room off the library of Queen Triskele's domain.

Hm.

The man in front of me has pale skin and black hair, slightly receding. He's wearing a well-tailored black suit, jacket open and showing a white silk shirt beneath. He's holding…

Ah.

"Yes. That one."

"It's a good read." He closes it and looks at the front cover. The other books on the bookcase next to him don't look disturbed. He knew what he was looking for in advance. "'The Expunged Memories of Children?' That's not something that most demons would trouble themselves with."

"Oh, how clever you are. Clearly it has some particular value to me." He raises his eyebrows very slightly. "I'm not in the mood for messing about. What do you want in exchange?"

"Direct." He looks mildly upset, and walks away from the bookshelf where their mother hid their memories and sits behind a desk decorated with the spine of a snake, bones wrapped around the edge of the upper surface. He lays the book under his right hand, fingers drumming on the leather. His left rests on what looks like a human skull. "I was hoping for something a little more thought-provoking."

"I've been here for five days. Nothing about Hell recommends it to me and I really just want to get this over with."

"It's not really supposed to recommend itself to you. If it does then we're doing something wrong."

I nod. "True. So?"

He tightens his grip on the skull, tilting it and then tapping the jaw against the table three times. "What do you know about demon society?"

"It's a brutal bastardocracy with as much order as the people with the most power choose to impose. There appear to be certain built-in limitations on the locals -the no lying on contractual issues thing is mildly surprising- but that's a matter of the structure of the demons' own magic rather than a sign of actual morals."

"But what's it all for, do you think?"

"Hell? Demons? Let's see…" I frown. "As the New God of Conquest, I'd say that the realm is monstrously inefficient at achieving any purpose. As such, what it's for cannot be any particular end. As an educational example of how not to do things, it fails because few people can actually see what goes on and are instead forced to rely on rumours and ancient texts of dubious authenticity. I am aware that demons are alleged to like the setup and find beauty in it, so I suppose it could be an installation art piece where the audience are the participants. And of course the dull option of a place of punishment for the souls that have done something to offend the Source. Or perhaps it doesn't really have one and the people confined to it are just doing whatever."

Something about that provokes a smile.

"Inefficient?"

"Souls don't last, torn apart for parts or just falling apart when overstressed. Demons are inevitably short-sighted people more dependent on mortal stupidity than really being capable of corrupting someone who wasn't heading that way anyway, and they both love and hate the place by turns. If it was up to me I'd just tear the whole place down."

"It's been tried. Hell was reopened by popular demand."

"Turfing everyone out isn't tearing it down, it's inflicting it on other people. No, no, if you've decided that the point is to tempt the souls you don't want in Heaven into disqualifying themselves, don't keep them around to slowly break them into parts. Just get rid of them."

"Render them down straight away?"

"What are you making machines for? Making artefacts for? Home improvements? In Hell? Please. Frankly, it looks like Hell is over-staffed to me. There aren't so many summoners that you really need more than… What, a few thousand Succubae? And they're the popular sort of demons. Half that many financial specialists, and then a mere handful of other classes, focusing on the most powerful and flexible. Everything else can just be expunged from the universe at essentially no loss."

"I see you've got plenty of ideas."

"Oh, and communications. If you want to let anyone who feels like getting damned get damned then you need to get the word out. As it is, most of the people who would take a deal can't make direct contact."

"The sort of people who would make a deal would be coming here anyway."

"Right, but they might wise up as time goes on. Better to get things on paper. And speaking of paper, have you finished with that book?"

"This?" He picks it up one-handed. "How would you like to make a deal?"

"I would like to make a trade, but I suspect that you're talking about something more complex."

"Humans can be impressive innovators. I've never had a New God down here. Are you as creative as they are?"

"Within my domain, no. I'm not creative, I just do it right. Outside of my domain, it varies. Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Have you heard of 'outsourcing'?"

"In theory, it means a company contracting specialists to deal with a subject outside of their core competency. The idea is that a company that has focused on something can do a better job than someone for whom it's only a part of their job."

"You disagree?"

"It's a question of motivation. If they make a mess of things and your company collapses, they can shrug, walk away and say 'got your money'. Someone who works for your company directly can't. Or, at least, can't as easily."

He nods. "Are you a gambling man?"

"No."

"Alright." He lays the book down and pushes it slightly towards me. "A deal, then. I will give you this right now. You can even use it on your children if you want. No payment up front."

"That sounds pretty darn dodgy."

"In return, you become Hell's efficiency consultant."

"No."

"You should hear me out."

"I have a job and a life and my nature won't let me deliberately half-arse it. You're trying to give me a job that is probably literally impossible."

"But you'd take it for a time."

Hm. Would I?

"I'd want to see a written contract, with deliverables and end point clearly stated. But yes, I think I would. If the Source had an actual problem with this place existing, then it wouldn't exist."

He smiles, and offers me his right hand. "Then we have a deal."

"Written. Contract. Oh, First of the Fallen."

"Glad to see that you're on the ball." He pulls his hand back but leaves the book in place. "I think you'll fit in fine."

 

[Mr Zoat]

8th March 2013
11:23 GMT -5

I hear a thump as Dr. Roquette falls out of bed. Her apartment had somewhat fallen into disrepair during the period between the Anti-Life being expunged and now, so I've given it a quick power ring clean. Her laundry is stacked just outside her bedroom door and her… 'Short term companions' have been escorted out so she could sleep it off alone.

She's not the only one-.

No.

She's far from the only one to be coping poorly with her memories of what she did while under the influence of the Anti-Life. It's a minor mercy that Mannseid didn't need all that many specific individuals supporting him to maintain his control. Certainly the Justifiers numbers in the tens of thousands and he got control of the military and political establishments in most countries easily enough, but all of the individuals were replaceable.

We even persuaded Henry Knight to stay on as President, but it's pretty clear that he's… Not coping. Frankly, resisting the Anti-Life requires a solid moral foundation that a deeper look at him made it clear to me that he doesn't have. Jonathan Horne was actually doing better, psychologically speaking, but I don't think that he has the skills to do the job under circumstances like these.

Then again, that didn't stop him getting elected the first time. The late vice president shot himself and we could get Knight to give Horne the job before resigning. That's just… Even I think that would be contrary to the democratically expressed will of the American people in a way that's even more coup-adjacent than just temporarily giving Adams the job. As things stand, our best bet is to just bear with Knight looking like a Chuckles-addict while in public.

There's a bang, then Doctor Roquette works out how her door works and throws it open, glass of what she thinks is vodka in hand. She tosses it back, then carries on walking out into her kitchenette for several steps before the fact that she just drank a glass of water filters into her conscious mind.

"Hair of the dog isn't actually a good idea, Doctor."

"You didn't complain last-." She stops talking as she actually looks at me. "Orange… Lantern."

Then she takes in the improved state of her apartment.

"Ah. Thanks. Where.. did..?"

"Back to their homes."

She raises her right hand to her face and wipes her eyes.

"Shit."

I slide a larger glass of water and a couple of aspirin tablets across the counter towards her.

"I've got a job for you."

She looks away, shoulders slumped.

"Do you want an entirely platonic hug? I will warn you now, I don't have the best people skills, so while I'd like to comfort-" She picks up the glass and the tablets, puts the tablets into her mouth and starts drinking the water. "-you, I'm not really sure how to handle this situation."

She keeps drinking. It's a pint glass, so this might take a few seconds.

At last, she finishes it. She takes a deep breath, then puts the glass down on the work surface.

"You could fix my headache with your ring, couldn't you?"

I nod. "While she was a student, my former boss used to end a night of heavy drinking by hooking herself up to a saline drip. No hangovers, apparently."

"Too big a risk of pulling it out during the night. God." She looks towards her bathroom.

"I cleaned it. Go right ahead."

"What's the job?"

"Earth's economy has reached a level of collapse where we've sort of given up on working within established economic systems. Is your fabricator ready for the big time?"

She looks around-.

"I already transmuted it all into water. I think you've had enough."

"Right. And-. Yes. The nanoclouds can transmute anything into anything. You still need to program complex designs and they die if you breathe on them hard, but there's no practical reason why it-." She winces, staggering to a chair and sitting down while supporting herself by holding onto the counter with both hands. "Why it couldn't be used commercially."

"Are you suffering from any underlying-?"

"But you know it works, because I'm the one who made all of Mannheim's equipment! Nowhere else on Earth could manage to make his.. weird alien technology! It was.. me."

"And Leonard. And me. And… Darkseid, while we're at it."

"Dark… Side?" That seems to ring a bell. "I think he… He talked to Darkside, or… Thought he was Darkside? Sometimes. When it was… I wasn't really listening to what he was saying unless he had orders for me."

"We're still not totally sure what happened there. It looks like Darkseid inserted part of his soul into a crime boss named Bruno Mannheim, which gradually turned him into a sort of mini-Darkseid."

"That was a mini!"

"Yes. And we're pretty sure that he'll do more in future. So we need to get things up and running-."

"I mean, at least you dealt with-. That, didn't you?"

"I hope you can understand that we're reluctant to test that, but our current assumption is 'no'."

"He could be coming here now?"

"In theory, yes. In practice, if his plan was to come to Earth personally after Mannheim fell, he'd already be here. It's a big universe and it's unlikely that he'll prioritise us. But he will turn his attention back to us eventually."

"And real Darkside is worse."

"Yes. So-."

"I blew my fabricator rig with dynamite."

"It would have been difficult to move it anyway."

"Okay. Am I building the new one at KordTech?"

"No, we're… Setting up in Greece. Superman's chipping in some kryptonian technology and I'll be donating power sources."

"Greece."

"You dynamited your laboratory, and… I think a change of scenery might do you some good."

"O-." She sags a little further. "Can I at least have an energy drink?"

"Once you get out of the shower." I waggle my right hand in the direction of her bathroom. "Go on. I'll make you breakfast."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 12

23rd September 2039
19:27 GMT -5

Terrence looks at me curiously. "Do you wanna explain to me why two of the richest guys in Gotham are meeting at a low-rent diner?"

"The food." / "Privacy."

I pull a sonic scrambler out of my coat, prompting Mr. Wayne to roll his eyes and tap his cane against the floor. The sound around us quietens and distorts as his scrambler activates. I shrug and return mine to my coat.

"The food? Seriously?"

"Restaurants are a case of diminishing returns. A meal that costs two hundred-. No, wait, inflation. A meal that costs two thousand dollars isn't a hundred times better than one that costs twenty."

Terrence blinks, most likely at the idea of a two thousand dollar meal. "How much better is it?"

I flick my eyebrows up for a moment. "Somewhere between point eight and three, in my experience. Mister Wayne?"

He glowers at me. Honestly, I'm not sure that he doesn't just glower at everyone and everything these days. "Why are you defending Cuvier?"

"Because I agree with most of what he's said and done, and I don't want him getting railroaded. The case against him is actually very weak. Frankly, it looks to me like the only reason it could have worked was because the District Attorney had his assets frozen to prevent him hiring a lawyer."

Terrence looks like he wants to say something, while Mister Wayne is continuing to stare at me.

"Mister McGinnis? Something you want to ask?"

"Point eight? So it's worse?"

"And just like that, I find out that everything I'd been told about the American education system is wrong. Yes, Mister McGinnis. It turns out that preening prima donna chefs can achieve levels of mediocrity with things that are weird and expensive but don't actually taste nice that a place like this-"

I look up and smile at the server as he hands us menus.

"Thank you. -wouldn't bother trying."

"They have paper menus? Guess you two aren't the oldest things here."

"No, this is deliberately retro. They switched to… Ordering on smart phone back in…" Ah… "Twenty-twenty-seven? Gosh, only twelve years ago. But it turned out that they got more customers with the added social interaction so went back to physical menus." I open my menu. "I certainly prefer it."

Mr. Wayne grunts, laying his menu on the table and opening it. I think the arthritis is getting to his hands. Just a little, but it's one of the things I've been looking for in myself. And the eternal question of whether it's worth trying something… No. When it becomes worth trying something radical.

"So were you ever a superhero?"

"I wore a costume for about five minutes. I've used the odd piece of exotic technology-. You saw that rod I used?" He nods. "But I never had the drive to get really into it."

"I heard you were on the Justice League. What was that like?"

Mr. Wayne glowers harder.

"At the time, the Justice League let just about anyone join up." I try making eye contact with Mr. Wayne, but he makes a point of studying the menu. "They've gone back to the small-team version now, haven't they?"

"Cheeseburger. Coffee."

"Regular burger, regular fries, large banana milkshake."

Terrence blinks. "Wait, are we actually eating? I thought both of you were gunna glare at each other for a couple of minutes and then storm off."

I shake my head. "We're both too old for that sort of thing."

"Speak for yourself."

"Combo-meal for me, I guess. Did you mean they let you in 'cause they let anyone in?"

"No, they let me in as a consultant because a parallel universe version of me beat up six of the founding seven in a fight and they thought I might have useful strategic input."

Mr. Wayne's back to glowering at me. "How did you find out about that? You shouldn't have had access to those files."

"You should have been nicer to Michael." He grimaces. "Oh, don't look like that. It took some work, but I made him a far more effective hero than he was before."

"I should track him down just so I can discipline him for violating security."

Terrence blinks. "Michael..?"

Smiles politely. "Booster Gold."

Terrence smiles back, looking genuinely pleased. "Oh yeah. I had a tonne of his merch when I was a kid." Mister Wayne hunches his shoulders in distaste. "So which one couldn't he beat?"

"Hm."

Terrence's eyes widen while a very small amount of smugness enters Mr. Wayne's expression.

"Seriously?"

"Oh, don't be too impressed. He realised that the mission profile was stupid and didn't take part. Which is actually relevant to what's happening with this case. Given all the other crimes happening in Gotham, why did you prioritise people volunteering for cosmetic genetic modifications?"

"When he turned me into a man-bat it didn't sure feel cosmetic."

"You were an intruder, not a patient. Ah. Hm. Actually, you should pay a visit to my clinic. We've got specialists in the process who can make sure that the 'cure' worked properly, if you have any concerns."

Mr. Wayne's eyes narrow. "I already cleared him."

"Did you test a semen sample?"

Terrence looks concerned. "Ah, what?"

"Barbara and I waited to have children because splicing can modify the genetics of your gametes. Splicing and splicing reversal is supposed to be undertaken in a medical facility where they can check that everything is working properly. You don't look like a bat, but… Ten years from now, if your newborn baby comes out with claws and wings-."

Terrence jerks his head towards Mr. Wayne. "I think maybe I should get checked out."

"It's not a complicated test. I'll give you a cup when we get back to the cave."

"How's a cup gunna test-?" Mr. Wayne glowers at him. "Oh. I shoulda stayed a bat."

"But getting back to the main question?" Terrence gives me his attention, though I note that he squirms a little in his seat. "You were concerned about illegality in the clinic and so you broke in to steal data. You broke the law."

"Because-."

"There was no smoking gun. If he'd had test subjects chained up in the basement or something then you would be in the right. He didn't. He was doing something that had been perfectly legal before District Attorney Young decided on the basis of what our initial discovery requests seem to show was pure personal prejudice and nothing that could be called good statistical evidence that it should be illegal. And that isn't his job and he broke the law with how he had his wife carry out his decision. If you're going to be a superhero you need to consider what government officials tell you with a degree more scepticism, because they aren't above breaking the law either, and they can hurt a lot of people when they do."

"Gordon wouldn't break the law."

I shake my head. "That's for the jury to decide."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th March 2013
12:36 GMT -5

"Hey, man!"

Thomas smiles in relief as he spots me, ill-fitting suit adding to how out of place he looks. It's hard for men as muscular as him to look good in suits, and… It certainly doesn't happen with off-the-peg.

"Good afternoon, Thomas."

I offer him my hand, and he uses that to grab me and pull me into an embrace.

"Man, how long they want me to stay here? Ah feel like a catfish prayin' to get thrown back."

"Give it another hour to be safe." I hear a slight intake of breath. "Yes, I can stay that long."

"Thanks, man." He pulls back, looking decidedly relieved. "'tween the monkey suit and alla the… Ah…" His eyes alight on the rictus grin of President Knight, who is thankfully talking to other people. "Folks… This ain't mah scene."

"You survived the Anti-Life, you can survive a party. Especially as you fought it off the whole time."

"Ain't lahk ah did much figh'n. Tuppy did more."

"And you persuaded a lot of people to keep going. Places that saw you looking after them had much lower suicide rates, and the people who you helped were perfectly happy to talk about it."

"Weren't a thang, man."

"No, Thomas, it most certainly was a thing. You're a free man, and you earned it."

"Yeah. And ah ain't got no clue what to do with it. Guess no one wants ships broken up raht naw."

"Ah… It's not that there are fewer ships to break and more… Supply chains. Once the ships are broken up they need people to buy the metal and other people to man the smelters and… Other people to buy the metal ingots once they're done. Things are… Chaotic."

He nods. "Yeah, tell me abawt it. Boss Atom got me an' Tuppy doin' road clearance in cities."

"How are you finding it?"

"Seen more countries this month than ah new existed. Folk… Most folks 're pretty friendly."

"That's one of the benefits of helping people. And we're not exactly going to run out of things for you to do anytime soon."

He frowns thoughtfully. "Hey, ah bin wonderin'?"

"Yes?"

"Is Boss Atom joinin' the Justice League? Ah'm callin him 'boss' 'cause a'how he's givin' orders, but one time Captain Marvel tole me he weren't."

"Ah… Honestly, I don't know. He's a little hard to predict. And he still wants to conquer the planet."

"I guess…" His frown deepens. "Ain't lakh Knight's really runnin' things now."

"Government isn't as essential to human existence as government likes to think it is. There are countries in Europe who've gone without a government for over a year without any real problems."

"Yeah, but… Did Atom win? Ah mean… Everyone's basically doin' whut the League says anyway…"

"Um…"

Did..? He..?

I never really thought that an AI would be happy just sitting on a throne and lording it over people. Obviously he'd want to actually be controlling things. And… A lot of places are coordinating their crisis restoration through the Justice League. Even China, which surprised me. Guess that thing with the nuclear reactor made them appreciate that they're going to need us, for a while at least. Mister Atom isn't in sole control… Technically it's a Justice League thing and he's supposed to run everything by Batman or Mr. J'onzz, but… Is that happening?

"I.. don't.. think so… But I'll check just in case."

"Looked lahk he was doin' okay. Ah'd vote fer him. If'n ah could vote."

I frown. "Where are you registered as living?"

"Why?"

"I realise that you've been convicted of a felony, but from what I gather America takes armed robbery as less serious than ballot fraud where federal elections are concerned. And since you've had your whole sentence commuted you probably can vote."

"Oh. Ah. Louisiana, ah think? But…"

"That's because that's where Belle Reve is. And if you're moving from place to place it doesn't make sense to register you anywhere. Well, let me know when you do settle down somewhere and I'll help you with the application." I look around, frowning. "Where is Tuppence, anyway?"

Thomas chuckles. "Hell, man. She split the second they gave her the certificate. Oh, hey."

I half-turn, following his gaze as Abra walks over, wine glass floating along besides him.

"Abra. How does it feel to be a free man?"

"The transition was less traumatic this time. I doubt that my life will change a great deal in the immediate future."

I wince. "Yes. Ah. With Atlantis still out of contact-."

"I understand."

"I can get you a pupillage with one of the Atlanteans working for N.E.M.O., but they might not be able to offer you something in your preferred specialty. Most of them are working with Mister Zatara on making contact with their home country-"

"I understand."

"-and you'd probably rather study there anyway." I generate a data stick. "This has got all of my records-. Everything I can legally give you, and it should let you get a head start. I'm deeply sorry for not being able to follow through on my end of our deal properly right away."

"I understand." He takes the data stick and vanishes it. "I could do with a holiday. Perhaps visit some old friends…"

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. "Please don't visit old friends."

"No, not like that. I thought that I could persuade some of the Rogues that they could make more money legally. At least, for now."

"If you're sure. With Leonard out, they've lost a very rational voice. I don't want you dying either."

Thomas smiles. "Hey, I can take a day awf too. Why don't ah come along? Jus' bein' safe."

Abra nods. "Thank you, Tommy. That would be appreciated."

I smile. Not everyone got their sentences commuted to nothing, but everyone I've been working with is now free. Even if they're going to keep working for the League for the moment. And even with all the damage still to undo… I'm feeling optimistic.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Hellish Content

Day 1
12th March 2013
07:00 GMT

The small green mucus-covered demon in front of me cringes as I give… It? Him? My full attention.

"Thank you for coming in today, Blarg. I've just got a few questions for you, and then you can get back to whatever you usually do, alright?" Take Subordinate's Measure

I raise my eyebrows and smile pleasantly. Blarg cringes a little more. Not a lot, then.

"Blarg, at this stage in the proceedings, I'm not making any conclusions. I'm certainly not carrying out any decisions, which even if I had made them I would have to run by the First anyway. I'm simply gathering information. But if you don't give me the information I'm asking for quite politely, then I am going to use your battered remains as a lesson to the next demon I speak to that I do actually expect answers."

I paid for lawyers and magicians. The contract was drafted and redrafted, the First arguing very little. The only real point of contention was that I wanted to only take possession of the book once my side was completed where he -for whatever reason- wanted me to take it from the start. Some sort of obligation ritual component, I suppose. And… I signed, and my nature… Set An Example.

He only gets a month, and no trickery can be used to make that month longer than the least of all the places it could be a month in. I'm obliged to do my best, but… I'm a long-term planner. Ultimately, if I create the best plan and it isn't a plan that can be implemented within a month, that's his problem. Like a sales consultant who recommends a new sales technique, if the salespeople won't use it, that's their managers' problem.

And the First doesn't bother keeping precise records I could just ring-scan or use divine power to intuit.

"YyyesLord."

"So. What do you do? In your own words."

"I'm a Slime Demon, Lord."

"Y-. Yes, that's what you are. I'm asking what you do."

"Slime, Lord. I do.. slime."

"I wasn't aware that slime had any particular spiritual presence."

"It adds ambience, Lord. And things stick to it."

"Corporeal things, or..?"

"Thoughts. Feelings. Little fragments of self left behind."

"And you subsist on that?"

It… 'Shrugs'. "It's a living, Lord."

This is… Literally, a bottom-feeder. Excellent! Or-. Ugh.

I went into this agreement intending to fulfil it while at the same time helping Hell as little as possible. But… Now that I'm here, the same sort of thing that drove me to order the digging of a network of canals across the continent of Africa in order to make the place more navigable means that I'm… Really interested. In the ecosystem, in the people, in the magic systems, everything. And while my contract means that I can't use further resources other than myself and my personal equipment, I saw the way Sunset was looking at it. The Alicorn of Magic is interested, too.

"What proportion of your time would you say you spent on Earth? Or-." I fan out my hands, shaking my head. "Or anywhere else in the mortal universe."

"Um." Five eyes blink at me uncertainly. "I have been on Earth…"

I nod encouragingly. "Good."

"As a proportion, it's not very much. It was more in the beginning, but after Crulk had his.. fall from grace I've… Most senior demons have their own pools of spies to draw on, and they don't like bringing in less reliable outside help."

"So you're a spy?"

"I have spied. It's more of a default thing than… Something I'm good at. I'm not really good at… Much. But I don't need much spiritual power to keep going, to stay on Earth, and… Who really notices slime?"

"So… Crulk was your former employer, and he would arrange for you to be sent to Earth and put into positions he wanted observed. You would absorb ambient power to feed and report anything significant you observed."

"That's the size of it, Lord. And tried not to get set on fire."

"Did that happen a great deal?"

"Slime isn't all that mobile, Lord. If a fire happened there wasn't much I could do about it. And it's a pretty good purgative. If someone couldn't do spells to purify a place, a little fire would do the job. And modern cleaning agents can be nasty."

"Personal experience, or..?"

"Sort of, Lord, sort of. Leave a little bit of me in Hell, so if my body gets destroyed I can recover. Eventually. With what my slime absorbs."

"Hm." I nod approvingly. "So you do little with even less. Efficient. I approve."

"You… Do?"

"Frankly, yes. Take.. Nergal, for example. A powerful lord… Undone by a mortal wizard a fraction as powerful as he was. You on the other hand have a tiny fraction of his power, and yet you fulfil a useful role as an observer. Tell me, do mortals ever summon demons like you?"

"Hardly ever, and then it's mostly by accident."

"By accident? So they don't bind you?"

"Bind me against doing what, Lord? I'm a Slime Demon. Even if I got down their throats, they could just cough me up. And that would be really hard."

"Do Slime Demons go through with a lot of summonings?"

"I don't know. But there are usually a couple of others who go through when I do, so I'd guess so."

A plan occurs. Have standardised no-obligation summoning rituals. Whatever the terms are, sneak a few Slime Demons through. Yes or no, the main demon does its things or comes home and the Slime Demons hang around.

Though that's inefficient. It would be better to have secretaries listen to requests and match summoner with an appropriate demon. No sense in getting someone important involved if the summoner isn't going to be able to make a big enough…

Sacrifice.

Ah.

Okay. It's true, but… I mean, if they were going to sacrifice something anyway, all I'm really doing is preventing them from making more trouble.

"Thank you, Blarg, you're being quite helpful. One final question. What do you want out of existence?"

"Existence, Lord."

"Yes, what do you want out of it?"

"Existence, Lord. To continue to exist. There are a lot of Slime Demons and we're all very easy to destroy if something powerful turns its attention our way. I don't want to be destroyed."

"A reasonable desire, but have you ever considered..? Anything more..?"

"A dark hole no one else can go in would be nice."

Which ties back into the 'existence' thing. Yes, demons like this aren't going to really threaten the material world. I might be able to build something with them.

"Thank you, Blarg. That will be all. Please send in the next interviewee on your way out."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Day 3
14th March 2013
11:12 GMT

Someone thinks highly of themselves.

Apparently, this is Purgatory. The realm where souls who committed no significant sins but didn't have faith in any gods and failed to make other arrangements for their soul come. A privilege for the dominant afterlife services provider: becoming the default option.

To be honest, it doesn't look so bad.

I mean, that's part of the basic idea. If the afterlife is what you make of it, people bad enough to go to Hell aren't going to be the sort of people you'd want to hang around with. Here on the other hand you might well be surrounded by morally righteous secular humanists. That has more options. People could build things without slave-drivers forcing them to.

And what they've built appears to be… Heaven. Of the Greco-Roman architecture with added fluffy clouds variety. Peasants work the fields with primitive tools while… Cyborg? Angels? Stand guard. I don't recognise the guns they carry, but they look a bit more sophisticated than the simple slug-throwers that the more technically inclined demons in other parts of Hell carry.

Speaking of which… I'm not… Seeing any demons. I mean, okay, Purgatory. In the uncharitable reading of the nature of Heaven, the punishment for people here is just being excluded from the light of God, which implies that the Source is so arrogant that it can't imagine a punishment worse than being away from its company. To my mind that says more about the writer of that little gem than the Source, but if this place runs on those rules... Demons would have almost no role here. Certainly, the people here wouldn't be due any extra punishment. And they'd only mill around in mists as Dante appeared to think they would if they wanted… To.

Though that would explain the cloud aesthetic. Just bundle the mists up into specific places to clear room for a pre-industrial idyll.

Five mecha-angels approach me, two hanging back with guns ready to be put at the ready. The leader appears to be an Asian woman, though her eyes appear to have been replaced with arcane cybernetics.

"Hello, stranger. Have you just arrived?"

"No, I've been here a few days, now."

She nods. "We don't get a lot of aliens around here. Where are you from?"

"Apokolips. But I.. don't want to give you the wrong idea. I'm alive."

She nods in the patient manner of a woman who has had to break the bad news to people who've said that to her before.

"No, seriously." I pull out the scroll containing the First's Writ of Passage. "The First has commissioned me to study his domains, and I wanted to meet the ruler of.. this place first." She looks nervously at the scroll, some sort of spell effect emanating from her artificial eyes. "Seems to be doing a pretty good job, as a God of the Dead. Not sure it's what the First had in mind, but it's nice to see someone making something of the place."

She blinks as the spell ends. "I've confirmed.. your authority. Lord Satanus will see you immediately."

"Good show." The squad shifts orientation as they move from border guards to escort detail. I fall in behind the squad leader. "So how long have you been here?"

"I'm not exactly sure. We don't have days here, but I think it's been about eighty years. I was born in eighteen eighty three, if that's any help."

"The current year is twenty thirteen, so happy one hundred and thirtieth birthday."

"My birthday is in April."

"Belated one hundred and twenty ninth, then. Whereabouts are you from?"

"America. San Francisco."

"Not my kind of place, but it's still in one piece. Mostly. Anyone you want me to take a message to when I go back?"

"No. I doubt that my children are still alive and I never knew my grandchildren."

"Ah. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Not everyone lives a long and happy life. I have to say that my afterlife has been more fulfilling."

"How did you end up here, anyway?"

"I'm from a Chinese-American family. Too cut off from the land of my parents to believe in their gods, not American enough to go to church."

"I.. understand what you mean, but there's no actual requirement to be American to be Christian. There are plenty of Christians who are ethnically Chinese, though the ones in China tend to keep quiet about it if they've got any sense."

"I never even visited China."

No, I suppose… Travel would have been a bit expensive while she was alive. Not impossible, but not something she would have been able to do for a quick visit.

"So what's with the cybernetics?"

She raises her right hand-. Ah, yes, I see that she probably wouldn't be able to fit a normal human limb inside that. "This? This is to give us the strength to fight demons."

"Is that something you need to do a lot?"

"I've had to do it a few times. It's not a constant battle, but everyone is on watch for the next time they find a way in here. Demons are a lot stronger than the souls of humans."

"I don't know about that. I spent a few hours talking to Slime Demons this week and they die if you hit them with a lit match. It's probably just that coming here takes more strength, so you only get raided by the stronger ones."

"I suppose. We can go into Hell from here, but as far as we know there's no way back. Not a lot of people are interested."

"If you're interested, I could probably work-. Mother Box?"

"Ping."

"Okay, not quite yet, but Mother Box is very good at making portals and as long as I'm doing it to better understand the functioning of Hell the First's Writ lets me do a lot that's normally politically unwise."

"So I could choose to go somewhere terrible and full of suffering and monsters?"

"Ah. Well, that doesn't-. Yes?"

"Thank you, but no."

One of Sir Terrence Pratchett's earliest works was an essay where he advised the devil that while no one actually wanted to go to Hell permanently, it was possible that people would choose to visit for a little while for much the same reason that they choose to go on roller coasters without actually wanting to be in a train crash. But… This…

Yeah, this wouldn't be a bad place to spend eternity. Or however long they get.

"What do you know about Satanus?"

"Nothing that he doesn't choose to share, which is little to nothing."

"Has he mentioned his father or sister at all?"

"I didn't know demons had those."

"He's a little unusual. Honestly, this setup he has here clashes with everything I've heard about him. I guess he's intelligent enough to embrace the dual moral standard."

"What does that mean?"

"That he treats his own people well, but is ruthless and cruel to other peoples."

"I haven't seen how he treats other people. He sometimes leaves to visit other places, but he doesn't take anyone with him and he doesn't talk about it. I think he finds being here relaxing."

"That makes…" The clouds part and I get a good look at his palace. It's the flipping Parthenon at the front with statues of the master of the place dressed like a hoplite instead of those of the Olympians. "Sense. Please, take me to him."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Day 3
14th March 2013
11:20 GMT

The reality of the man matches the statues, though as I'm led towards the surprisingly simple seat where Colin 'Satanus' Thornton sits I can't help but think there's something a little off about them. And wasn't that a surprise, learning that a Lord of Hell has an amazing double life as a media mogul. Lex had been keeping an eye on him for some time and while he deduced that he was a magic user he apparently found out that he was literally a demon by chance when someone spilled some salt on the ground and he couldn't cross the spill. Satanus has artistically bulging but not binding muscles, polished black metal and leather apparel with gold-. No, orichalcum decoration, and…

No. Compared to the statues-.

He's made himself larger. He enlarged the seat too, but not the dais. I can see the marks on the floor where it usually sits. Did he do that so that I don't loom over him quite so much? I suppose that an emissary being sent who looks more powerful than your current overlord is a strategy that the First could use to undermine him, but unlike most people down here he's certain to know who I am. How I work. So he grew himself for the benefit of his people?

"Lord Satanus, I present Grayven, God of Conquest and emissary of the First of the Fallen."

"Be welcome, Grayven. Would you care for refreshment?"

"Thank you, Lord Satanus. It would be the civil thing to do. Alas, I am bound for a month and since I do not need to eat, civility is barred to me. I do appreciate the offer, however."

"Bound? You are no demon."

"No, but my word is my bond regardless. The First has tasked me with discovering ways to improve his realm and its people."

Satanus leans forwards slightly, the glowing ovals of his eyes widening.

"Yes, that was my first thought, too. And I imagine that my second was much the same as yours."

"That it's obviously a scheme."

I shrug. "Everything always is. But he has something I need, and I'm pretty sure that my soul goes to the Source when I die whatever I do, so I can stand using my talents for him for a little while."

He nods, relaxing back into his seat. "And what is my part in this?"

"I'd like to hear -in your own words- how you run things here and why. I will then most likely have a few questions, perhaps a few observations…" I shrug. "I can't offhand think of a way to say this isn't supposed to be a threat without making the assurance sound like a threat, but my pact with the First doesn't include fighting for him either personally or with my wider resource base."

"You're here as a conquest consultant."

"More or less."

"I'm surprised that the First's pride allowed it. That it allowed the suggestion that anyone else could have useful input."

"I'm half expecting him to read through my report and then tear it up in front of me." I shrug. "But whatever. I'll have fulfilled my part of our bargain."

"Would you like to tour my realm?"

"Depending on what I learn… Perhaps later. Since you clearly take pride in what you've achieved here, I'm happy to take your word for it."

"My study, then." I nod, and he rises to his feet. "Sergeant Wu, thank you, you and your detail are dismissed."

Wu bows and then she and her fellow soldiers about-face and march out of the audience chamber. Satanus then rises from his seat and steps down from the dais.

"This way."

The doors open at our approach as he leads me through his palace. It's well-lit, though I can't see where the light is actually coming from. The same was true outside: light filtering down from above but without an observable source. Of course this is a less physical place than the material world, but I suppose that it might be significant. But this palace…

"Do you like it?"

Devil May Cry! That's what this place reminds me of! You go through various parts of Hell -or whatever that game called it- and then your final fight with Mundus starts in a Greek temple against a three-eyes Greek statue.

"Is this real stone?"

"That would depend on what you mean by 'real'. It's not quarried from Earth and then brought here."

"I suppose that would be a bit expensive. Was it quarried locally?"

"In a manner of speaking. Purgatory was more or less formless; you're familiar with Dante's description?" I nod. "It wasn't too hard to impose form on it, taking examples from the Earth and altering the nature of this place to reflect them. I take it that you recognised the Parthenon?"

"And I thought you were simply being vainglorious."

He smirks. "Well… I could have picked something more modest, but it set the tone I was going for."

"And you made the fields in the same way."

"It was a considerable investment, but one which has paid off nicely. Purgatory's undefined neutral state means that it takes such impressions well, and the population appreciates having actual work to do."

"Sergeant Wu was a relatively recent addition to the population. I take it that you have older residents?"

"Unlike in the other circles of Hell, there was nothing here for them to interact with. As such, they stayed remarkably preserved. There's still a limit: I haven't met any soul here older than five thousand years old."

"Where does the power from their breakdown go?"

"The mists. It happens slowly, so there's no build-up in specific places."

I raise my eyebrows. "And none to you?"

"A little." He glances my way and smiles, nodding. "Most of the power I gain is from having this realm as an anchor. Ah, here we are."

He leads me inside a… Hm. A planning room. Maps of fields and mines are pinned to the walls, while reference books on farming and mining sit on a bookshelf next to books containing records of his holdings' yields.

It nice to see someone taking this seriously-.

The door closes and Satanus speaks a word that echoes oddly in my ears. A shimmering, burning rune appears on the inside of the door, sealing it shut.

Satanus shimmers, the demon lord being rapidly replaced by… A short man in a grey business suit.

"Not a surprise, then." I tilt my head to the side. "Luthor isn't as subtle as he thinks he is. I was prepared to ignore it because it makes his eventual descent here more enjoyable."

"It makes no difference to me what form you take. I haven't been retained to assess your fashion sense."

"You were serious about that then? I assumed that this was part of some scheme to kill the First, if not everyone."

"It might come to that. But that sounds like an awful lot of work, even if I was entirely successful, which is far from guaranteed. And it would just cause chaos, and the First has recovered from such injuries before."

"You're a little harder to hurt than a human magician."

"Don't underestimate Mister Constantine. But I fear we're getting off-topic. What's going on with the cybernetics?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Day 5
16th March 2013
07:31 GMT

Neron sneers at me as his giant henchmen carry me into his presence, one holding my right arm and the other holding my left.

And then I fall towards the floor as the pair of them double over in pain. Activating my aero-discs I stabilise before I actually land, and reorientate myself so that I'm feet-downwards.

"I didn't say carry him by his arms! I said rip his arms off and then drag him before me!"

Neron stomps towards his fallen flunkies as green-black runes burn from their foreheads, hearts and… Well, there's a faint glow from their loincloths that I'm trying to ignore.

"Off! OFF! How hard is it for you stupid creatures to understand!"

I raise an interrogative finger. "Lord Neron-."

His head jerks around so that he can better glower at me. "Oh, I'll get to you."

I shrug. "It's the First's time you're wasting."

"ARMS!" He leans forwards slightly and then kicks upwards with his right leg, the demon's left shoulder exploding as he smashes its arm from its torso. "THESE THINGS!"

I knew this would happen when I started with the best, but I'm not even halfway down the list yet.

"ARMS!"

Soon enough, the spasming giants are denuded of both arms while Neron-

"Well!?"

-is still glaring at them. They can't actually respond due to him not having turned off the torture spell he's got running on them, and they're both bleeding freely from their wounds… I'm pretty sure that sort of damage would kill a human.

"Neron, they can't respond while you've-"

"I don't need your help in disciplining my slaves!"

"-got that spell running. They literally can't respond."

"I'm not shouting at them for their benefit! I'm shouting at them for the benefit of everyone in range of my voice!"

If he has nothing else to recommend him -and I'm beginning to suspect that he doesn't- Neron has a powerful set of lungs.

I smile. "This does actually remind me of the way the First acted out after being told how to kill his 'brothers'. Just wrecked his whole palace. But please, carry on. I'd like to see how strong the resemblance is."

He gurns, and I fairly obviously fail to keep my amusement from showing. That act of profound disrespect results in him getting himself under control and making a slashing motion with his right arm. The runes flare and then die, and-

"Uuuuuuuuunrrrrr…"

-they regain control of their bodies, though they might be in too much pain to really do anything with that ability. Neron strides back towards me, waving negligently at his groaning guards.

"Drag them out. And staple their arms back on."

Flunky demons who had been lurking around the corners of his throne room scurry/scuttle/slime to obey, though they're all much smaller than the objects of their attention and it looks like they're a bit confused about how they're supposed to actually carry out the order.

But Neron has already shifted his attention back to me.

"I want your arms."

"Good for you. 'May all your dreams come true but one', as the Ventrians say. And to be clear, while I am not authorised to kill any of Hell's inhabitants at will I can kill in self-defence."

"Kill me?" His demeanour changes at once. He appears to find the idea genuinely amusing. "Ha! Me… Kill-."

He thrusts his arm out to the right, and-. Green fire is everywhere! The wall explodes, and the wave of fire erupts out across his castle ground. It eats through the walls and converts them into shrapnel, through demons and converts them into carbonised skeletons or simply ash, and then out through the curtain wall into the Province of Gull.

It burns through streets, houses and markets, arcane shields flickering and failing around some of the better properties but failing moments later. It burns and spreads until a wedge of destruction has been wrought upon the unsuspecting metropolis.

"Me."

He keeps looking at me, still smiling.

Yes, killing a great swath of people far weaker than you to show off to someone who isn't interested in competing with you. What am I supposed to take away from that, exactly? That you're childish and insecure? That you have no interest in promoting your province's strength? In building at all?

"I see. Then there isn't much else to say. I suspect that I've learned… Everything useful that I can here." I land, and walk towards the coagulating stone at the edge of the blast zone. "Thank you for your time, my lord."

"Yes, go, you wretched waste of my time."

I look around for a moment and then jump, landing on a parapet that was just out of the arc of the fire.

It appears that my earlier idea about focusing work on the more powerful demons was misguided to say the least. I failed to take their arrogance into account. Top end demons aren't going to be interested in service jobs because there isn't anything that can 'pay' them a meaningful amount. Satanus's human heritage lets him bypass the normal limits on demons getting to Earth and staying there, but for the others…

They don't have the same needs that mortals do, even if their drives are fairly similar. I think it was in… Hellblazer, where the First remarked that angels and demons have just enough free will to occasionally wonder what the point of that sort of existence is. With nothing to work towards, they become childish and self-destructive.

But weaker demons… They need to cooperate. They need to overcome their instincts and cooperate because they can't get through the day without each other.

I glance upwards as I hear the work crew manage to slide one of the giants a short distance across the stone floor.

I activate my aero-discs again as the still-burning fire eats one of the supports beneath the parapet I'm standing on and causes it to crumble into rubble.

The First must know what sort of being Neron is, surely? So why leave him in position? I'll have to speak to some of the other-.

"Begging your pardon, milord."

A demon dressed like a butler stands a little way along the parapet. From the slight disordering of his clothes I'd guess that he was in the line of fire but was able to throw himself out of the way before it would have hit him.

"It's not my place to pardon anyone here, but you have my attention."

"My mistress suspected that you might find Neron's presence tiresome, and bid me offer you the hospitality of her house."

"I doubt that was particularly hard to guess. Who is your mistress?"

"The Lady Rosacarnis, milord."

"Hospitality, I don't need. Information and intelligence I would appreciate. I am after all here to perform a task."

"As your say, milord. I am sure her ladyship knows best."

"Then lead on. Goodness knows I'm not going to learn anything else of value here."

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th March 2013
09:37 GMT +2

Filippos Sachinidis, the current Greek Finance Minister, stares at the machine that so much of Greece's economy will be based on.

"And you say this can make anything?"

"In theory, yes. In practice, it's only really good at making simple things. Pure ingots of metal, perfectly regular wooden beams, regular stones or bricks, things like that. You can put anything in, but it's more efficient if what you put in is mostly contains what you want to take out." I shrug. "Put an old mostly steel tractor in and you'll get out steel ingots faster than if you put in random waste."

"But we… Can put in random waste?"

"Yes, certainly. As I said, it won't be as efficient, and it would be better if you could compact it down first, but it would work perfectly well."

"And it is safe? I have heard horror stories about nanotechnology."

"Science fiction nonsense, for the most part. A little over two years ago the League of Shadows used a nanotech weapon that was about ninety five percent airborne coolant, and they still lost most of their cloud in a two minute attack. If they'd been trying to kill people then using the nanobots to transmute explosives would have been more efficient. These nanobots are designed to be more vulnerable to changes in temperature, so that they need the fabricator's cold field to remain functional. If they leave that area-. You see the yellow line?"

I point inside the fabricator, and he nods cautiously.

"Then they melt the moment they try to do any work, get exposed to sunlight-." I point upwards. "You see the ultraviolet lights up there?"

He peers upwards, then nods.

"Those will destroy them. Or if they get exposed to electricity or radio waves or the human body."

"The.. human body can destroy them? Surely they are too small for the immune system to attack."

"Oh, far too small. But human bodies are hot and filled with reactive chemicals. Without something cooling them, they can't cope."

"Can the cooling system from this machine be removed?"

"Yes, but not easily. It's built into the whole thing to keep the field strength even and prevent people detaching it and weaponising it. Leonard really doesn't like people doing that."

"Leonard Snart."

I raise my right forefinger. "Doctor Leonard Snart."

"Who is the American supervillain 'Captain Cold'."

"He was. Between what we're paying him and the respect he got for fixing the icecaps… And the reports of the prison's counsellor, we're confident that he's happier doing legitimate work than he would be robbing places."

A decision that's aided by the collapse of quite a few currencies. Mildly pleased to be ahead of the curve there. I mean, they were based on faith anyway and governments were constantly inflating their supply with their overworked printing presses… But faith is gone after the second global crisis in two years. Barter has become even more widespread, particularly given that Mannheim focused on America which made it through the Sheeda Incursion mostly intact.

"But the Justice League's funding comes from the United Nations. Doesn't it?"

"Ah… No. I mean, it did, but we spotted pretty quickly that with the… Collapse, that wasn't going to work."

It's interesting. In the American context, the ability of Congress to control military funding is supposed to restrain the President's ability to make war. It adds a new dimension to something like Command and Conquer when you realise that the Global Defence Initiative has the ability to be completely financially self-sufficient through tiberium refining. A military that isn't funded by taxes but by expanding into new territory, that is technically incentivised to let the tiberium infestation of Earth get worse, would have been profoundly disturbing to the Founding Fathers.

He looks at me in an interrogative manner.

"The Justice League is… Issuing its own precious metal-based currency."

"Can the Justice League do that?"

"Legally or practically?"

"Practically."

"We have several members and associates capable of casual space travel. There's basically no competition for space mining, and… I already had a big pile of gold I was using for my own expenses." Plus the stuff I took off Larfleeze. It was still a big pile after I returned everything I could identify as coming from a specific place and giving all of the pieces of technology which Dox wanted to him. "Honestly, choosing a design and a weight was more difficult. I wanted a full metal coin, but Mister Atom pointed out that was excessive, and that with so many currencies in freefall any precious metal would be a stabilising influence…"

"And legally? Does the treaty between the Justice League and the United Nations allow the League to issue currency?"

"The subject wasn't really covered. Technically, the League can get income from other sources of appropriate moral probity, and while 'commemorative tokens' it issues aren't legal tender anywhere we've got to the point where the dollar isn't accepted in most of the United States."

I mean, it is, but only at Weimar Republic inflation levels, and you better have actual coins or notes. Coins actually trade slightly better than paper money. There was a period in British history where the old pure copper 1p and 2p coins were worth more as metal than their face value, but the metal value of modern coins is nearly nothing. But without anyone leaning on them, people seem to value them more highly than paper.

It's like they've overcome one level of nonsense only to get tripped up by another layer of nonsense that's an exact copy of it.

"Is that a good idea?"

"Having a stable currency? Yes, it's an excellent idea. I've checked the records of millions of civilisations and Mister Atom ran a lot of simulations." And used more than the egg cup full of common sense that most economists in government seem to share between them. "Apropos of nothing, if Demetrios Prokopios could be found and returned to-."

"Do you know where he is?"

He's staring at me with an expression of pure desperation.

"Um. Only approximately. I'm trying to track him down, but stabilising the world is more urgent. So… If he came back, you'd-."

"I was always clear that I was taking this job as a caretaker. Is he a demigod? Is that how he did it?"

"I'm afraid that I'm not inclined to betray confidences in that way."

"We're losing physical currency, did you know that? People know that the Justice League are working on something here and the drachma is suddenly in demand in other countries. That is not something that Greece has had to worry about since the City State period. I don't know how to handle it. We need him."

"Then… I will make that my highest priority." I look over to where a forklift truck has carried in a pallet of scrap metal. Excellent, they're ready for the demonstration. "Do you want to see it in action?"

"Yes. Yes please."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd September 2010
19:17 GMT -5

She didn't turn up. I held up my end of the agreement, and then-!

Warning! Deviation from baseline thought processes detected!

Ah. Yes. Narcissism. The belief that the universe revolves around you. Artemis is a woman-

Girl.

-with her own responsibilities.

I don't think you should lose sight of that age difference.

Her not being where she agreed to be isn't a deliberate insult. It's far more likely that she lost track of time hunting down Gotham hoodlums, or… I don't know. Popular culture tells me that women-

Girls.

-take a long time to get ready, clothes and makeup and whatnot. Not something I know anything about, and Mia didn't want to talk about it for some reason.

Okay, sport? I think that maybe you should me let me handle this.

What? Why? I realised what the problem was, and even if I hadn't I wouldn't have done anything about my thoughts because that would be counterproductive.

No. Not that. The Evil Formula.

I stop in mid-air.

What makes you think I'd agree to that now?

You reconstructed the formula for Vitamin X from Dennis Wilson's body. That means that you don't need it any more.

That wasn't the point. The point is that I'm not the person I was before I got-. Wait.

I scan the area around Artemis, making sure-. Ah.

Carry this on later.

Sigh.

I transition forwards, construct shield easily blocking the high calibre rounds from the two marksmen. They freeze for a moment upon seeing me, and open fire on full automatic at my face and chest. Two orange ribbons remove their guns from their hands, and two pithing needles remove their capacity for movement.

What worthless people.

That-.

No, I'm not killing them.

And I'm glad to hear it.

Because I know that Artemis heard those shots, and because I want to remain within my established moral bounds-

Good.

-without undoing the Formula.

Less good, but okay, I'll take it.

I pick up the paralysed shooters and fly down to where Artemis is pulling some rough-looking types out of a boathouse. She looks up warily at me for a moment.

"Ah. Hey."

"Good evening." I scan the-. "Gosh, that's a lot of guns. And some pretty nasty chemicals."

"Yeah, so I kinda had to drop everything…"

Now what I think you should say-.

"No, no, I quite understand." I land just in front of her, dropping the marksmen on her pile with a pained 'uuh'. "And you clearly did something good here, but I'm not-. If you'd phoned me-"

"What, you're pissed 'cause I didn't tell you I'd be-"

"-I could have watched your back."

"-late..?"

She looks at me for a moment, then looks away. "Oh. Yeah. I guess that-. Ah… Yeah."

"Or -if you really find me that distasteful- you could phone someone else. I want you to not die more than I want to date you."

"Okay!" She gestures upwards with her right hand, left still holding her bow. "Okay. I'll… Get some backup next time."

"Thank you." I look at her pile of goons, then stick a soundproof bubble around them. "So do you want me to fly them back to Star City..?"

She looks decidedly shifty. "A-actually… I.. was working out of Gotham."

"Gosh that sounded convincing."

That earns me a glare. Which gradually morphs into a look of genuine concern, which she then shifts back into neutral.

"What? We all got zeta tube access. I can work wherever."

I look around… What I think used to be some sort of lifeboat station..? Or a fishing boat launch site? It's a good distance outside of Gotham, and they probably used it because it's a little harder to smuggle things in through the Gotham harbour than it used to be.

"No Green Arrow?"

"Just because he's my uncle doesn't mean we do everything together. Green Lantern doesn't follow you around everywhere."

I smirk. "Ah, yeah. I should probably warn you now. When Green Arrow said that, everyone else thought he meant 'illegitimate daughter'."

She frowns. "What-? No, no-. Green Arrow doesn't even have any kids."

"No, he… Does. His name's Connor Hawke, and he lives-."

"What?" She blinks. "How do you even know that?"

I shrug. "I know everything about everyone."

Her eyes widen. Ah. Maybe I shouldn't have said that?

You think, sport?

"You've been spying on me?"

"No, of course not. I've been spying on everyone. Singling you out would be creepy."

"I can't BELIEVE-." She closes her mouth, looking horrified. "Oh no. Ohhhh no. You know..?" I smile and gives my head a small shake. "You know about my Dad?"

"Can you narrow it down? I know he's a nasty piece of work-."

"He's a SUPERVILLAIN!"

I shrug. "So's Kaldur's father."

She blinks. "What?"

"Yeah, Black Manta. And his step-father -the man who actually raised him- used to work for Black Manta as a pirate. Mia got her powers from a world-conquering alien AI with a seven digit body count who tried to destroy Earth twice, the only other Orange Lantern in the universe has killed thousands of people just to steal their stuff, Superman's grandfather led the isolationist movement that was why almost his whole species died when Krypton exploded and Batman's father once broke into a pharmacy to steal drugs. Your parents' criminal history doesn't say anything about you."

"Um." That appears to be giving her some trouble. "Oh. Ah… Pharmacy? So he-."

"He was a medical doctor, he needed medicine to save a patient and it was closed due to it being the middle of the night. He left a note and payment next to the till. Batman's father was actually a really great guy."

"Okay. Clearly, I… I've been letting this mess me up for no reason at all." She takes a steadying breath. "Guess we… Missed your reservation, huh?"

"Reservation?" I frown. "No, I cook. I-."

No. Don't complain about how much it put you out. Especially as it didn't actually cause a problem. Be magnanimous.

"Oh. Ah, damn, I-. Sorry."

"No, no, I plated it up and stuck it in subspace. No time has passed, so it's all fine. Actually…" I look around. Now that the fighting's over I can hear the lapping waves, quite sounds of the wildlife coming out from hiding… "This isn't actually a bad venue. I could hook up some lights, drop off the gang members, we could do it here." She doesn't look keen. "The site of your victory?"

"Look, I'm… Kinda beat? Can we-? Put it off..?"

I did everything right, and-. And-. And I just gave her an emotional shock, and she's been in a fight. She didn't say no, and she's probably just not in the mood.

It's fine.

"Sure. When's good for you?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Day 5
16th March 2013
07:56 GMT

I look out of the carriage window, down from the thin and narrow road heading towards Lady Rosacarnis's manor house. It's like one of those cartoon cliff side paths that crumble underneath Wile Ethelbert Coyote just after Road Runner dashes across, but it stretches out far further, has even less support and from the look of the surface has been in use for far longer.

And down below, what looks like a pit of burning spectres, desperately and fruitlessly reaching for relief or escape.

"Druoth, what's the point of that?"

Druoth doesn't look around from the coachman's seat. "The point of what, m'lord?"

"This road, the pit, the journey… Just about anything I've seen since leaving Neron's penis-substitute of a fortress."

"I couldn't comment on Neron's manhood, m'lord, but as you observed his temper is somewhat uneven."

"Seemed pretty even to me."

"As you say, m'lord."

"Not in a good way, I just didn't see anything to convince me that there was anything there beyond ego. And.. power. But what about the rest?"

"The location suited my former master, m'lord. It grants access to the city without quite being inside the city. Away from the riffraff, you understand."

Hm.

"No. No, honestly, I'd have thought that being closer to the city would be almost pure benefit. Neron's clearly not intellectually capable of doing anything complicated, and this way anyone who visits your mistress is completely obvious. All Neron would have to do is place one of his least brain damaged minions in an observation position and he'd see all the comings and goings and there's a rear entrance that he hasn't spotted."

"I cannot give away any confidences of my mistress's house."

"Can he hit it from here?"

"The topology of the infernal realms is no simple matter, and Neron is capable of more complex spell-casting than his… Demonstration, might have suggested."

"So, yes. Alright, but…" Ah. "Oh… Really? You don't site it in the city so that he doesn't see it tank one of his tantrums and then try focusing on it?"

"I couldn't say, m'lord."

Okay, that's stupid, but it makes sense. "What about the road?"

"What of it, m'lord?"

'Why does it look so thin?', is what I want to ask. But… Dream Of Infrastructure.

'It looks thin because Hell is stupid' isn't an answer I'm happy with, but the road clearly is solid. So… Something to do with the lake? Power source? I sit back in the carriage, which looks like a standard aristocrat's coach but actually has the internal dimensions to contain a man of my size. I'll ask the lady of the manor.

And here we are. Demonic gothic castle with.. an actual… Eighteenth century manor sticking out of it? Suggests a degree of civility at least. Rosacarnis herself isn't waiting for me. I suppose I just don't rank..? Or perhaps she wants me to see her hard at work to give the best first impression.

Druoth pulls open the door, and I step outside.

"How does it work in Hell? Does the house employ many servants, or is it just you?"

He leads the way towards the heavy wooden doors which guard the front entrance, and they open at his approach.

"Many demons work in the background. Few are allowed to present themselves before the mistress."

Decoration is… Medieval with a demonic twist. Friezes of demons decapitating angels and laughing at burning sinners. Images of saints where each shows some hidden vice. Paintings of hunting scenes where the prey are intelligent creatures, or where the huntsman falls to temptation and is slain, damned and his soul is taken by the demon who distracted him.

And there are some natty banners with interesting runic designs. And-.

I stop, looking down at my feet and the… Muscle tissue?

I snort, shaking my head as I start walking again. A demonic red carpet. Touching.

Druoth reaches a large and impressive-looking double door and then turns, bowing.

"The lady is within."

"Thank you."

He pulls open one side of the door and steps aside, gesturing to the opening with his free hand. I walk-.

"Am I supposed to tip you?"

"That won't be necessary, m'lord."

Right, well, I offered. Arms folded behind my back, I stride through… Huh. Not actually that big.

Rosacarnis herself is a relatively plain woman, black hair, Caucasian skin… Doesn't look like she's been getting much sun. Human-looking in general, without any of the bestial traits or exaggeration I'm used to seeing in demons. She's sitting in a plush chair, a glass of something that's probably magic-enriched wine on a nearby side table. The other chairs around the table are noticeably less nice, but still good quality. Seats for subordinate allies, then. And she's waiting for me to say something.

I bow a slight degree. "Lady Rosacarnis, I am Grayven, here at the behest of the First. Your butler intimated that you wanted to speak to me?"

"You are here to test our efficiency? Our effectiveness?"

"Yes."

"At what, precisely?"

"Whatever is it that you do."

"I was trying to take revenge against the wizard who killed my father."

"Okay, one, you hated your father. Two, I'm pretty sure that you killed him after he came back here."

There's a very slight twitch. Surprised I knew about that? You did order him tortured to death in front of quite a few lackeys.

"And three, your personal fixations are your own problem. How are you at damning mortal souls?"

She waves her right hand dismissively. "I don't answer general summonings myself. I have people for that."

"Ah! Good, good. I'll want to go over your training scheme, pricing, that sort of thing. Neron had an episode before I could get that far with him."

"You do realise that this is a scheme of some sort, don't you?"

"Yeah, and I don't care-." Hm. "Though while we're on the subject, you've got a load of information about Neron's doings, right?" She shrugs. "Share it all, and I'll kill your uncle for you."

"My uncle is immortal."

I smirk. "No such thing. Your uncle is merely very tough, as you yourself demonstrated. Come on. I'm giving you security in exchange for information on your enemy. What's the problem, here?"

She considers me for a moment, then nods. "Very well. I will show you to his resting place myself. I believe that I will find this educational."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Day 5
16th March 2013
08:03 GMT

Oh.

I mean, I know he's invulnerable, but…

I'm looking at a demon who is halfway between a chaos warrior in full armour, a yautja and a velociraptor-. The proper reptile version, not the crap feathered version. And even though I know that him being submerged in a bath of high-quality demonic poison would diminish Stercorax somewhat, the lack of animation and the proof of his defeat…

But he's smaller than me.

"The brother of my father. Stercorax. Do you know how I defeated-?"

"Tricked him into eating poisoned prisoners, then dumped him here. Pretty clever, given how young you were." I glance at her, working through the timelines. "Still are, actually."

I take my daiklave out of subspace and-.

"That won't be sufficient."

I nod. "You're probably right. I guess it's a man-thing, you know? 'He can't be more invulnerable than I am powerful'." I smile with mock-sheepishness, and shrug. "Serious attempt comes next. Oh, could you please formally authorise me to kill him? As.. head of the house and whatnot."

She raises her right hand, making the horns. "For your attempt to overthrow me the very moment you heard of my father's death, I condemn you to death."

"Thank you." I step up to the poison bath, take the daiklave in a two-handed grip with the tip touching the middle of his chest.

Deep breath. Enact the Magistrate's Sentence.

And shove down! Kill!

And duck as the tip of the daiklave snaps and flies across the room.

I hold up the rest of the blade for a moment, and sigh. I mean, at least I know that I'm stronger than the materials I used to make this. And I-.

Huh.

"Hey, look! I actually made a tiny groove."

Rosacarnis frowns and comes closer for a better look. Then she leans in so she can actually see it.

"Oh."

"How does his invulnerability work, anyway? Usually the word gets used to describe people who are merely very tough, but this looks a bit more conceptual."

"I never found out."

"Did you consider hiring someone to investigate? Or however that works here."

"No. That would allow others to discover that he was still alive. It would risk him escaping when they studied him. And if they discovered it, what would stop them using that secret against me?"

"Binding magic? Whatever you've got going on that keeps Druoth in line?"

"Druoth is loyal to my family."

I frown as I amble across the room to where the tip of my sword flew, picking it up when I arrive. "Why?"

I turn around to see her smiling. "A god is asking a demon why they're loyal?"

"Your father bothered raising you, and had some sort of working relationship with his brother. You have an actual house here. But you tortured your father to physical destruction-"

"I-."

"-when he regrew after the angels burned most of him to ash. Perhaps in revenge for him making you torture and murder your nursemaid, perhaps because you like being in charge. I haven't got a complete handle on how demon aristocracy works yet. I could see various demons clustering around you for protection, offering their service in exchange… Or maybe there's some sort of instinct in play. But a negotiated position is very different from actual loyalty."

She's looking at me with a mixture of concern and respect. Good, yes, I do know about you. And now to cement that idea.

I repair my daiklave and stow it as I amble back towards the recumbent form of Stercorax, keeping my eyes on her as she tries to work out how to respond. And then without moving my head I draw the Sword of the Fallen and shove the points directly into Stercorax's forehead.

It cuts through easily, and I slice it out through the left side of his head before flicking the brain and blood residue off it and returning it to its scabbard.

And now there's fear.

"There, dead. Perhaps you can find some other use for the body, though I suspect that the cut will remain even if it gets occupied by someone else."

"How did you do that?"

"Preparation. I like being able to kill anything. It's a remarkably calming way to exist. I don't have to worry about certain classes of potential enemy." I clap my hands together, and she flinches. Just a little. But I notice, and she knows I noticed. "So, back to work! How do you see your role in Gull?"

"I facilitate certain trades, and my guarantees keep the parties involved from doing anything unwise."

"And your father did the same?"

"Yes. Amongst other things."

"And his spat with Constantine?"

"The First likes to bestow certain tasks on us. He likes to remind us who is in charge. Despite my youth I was called upon to play a small role in removing Remiel and Duma from Pandemonia."

"Ah yes, whatever happened to them?"

She reaches into her dress and pulls out… A very small knife.. ring. Designed to scratch and poison, if I'm any judge. She carefully holds it out to me. I take it and give it a scan-.

Unable to comply. / Ping

Oh? Now that is interesting. I hold it up to take a closer look. Black, matte… Presumably at least somewhat hard if she had it made into a knife.

"What is it made of?"

"Kaahuite. It… Accretes, in the lower levels of Masak Mavdil. It can be used to negate certain angelic powers. Collecting it is a highly regarded profession of the demons who brave the depths."

"Fascinating. And this substance allowed you to nullify their abilities?"

"Not at first. Shield against them, wound them, yes. But angels are not generally known for their cunning."

"You tempted them into going to a place where they'd be surrounded by it. What lure did you use?"

"Masak Mavdil is where we keep captured angels. Naturally, they were concerned for the rehabilitation of their fallen brethren."

"P-heh. Walked into it. Was Neron involved in that in any way?"

"He struck the final blows after they were weakened. He is a temperamental fool, but he has power."

I nod. True enough.

"Alright then. As a stake-holder, how and why would you change Hell?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Day 12
20th March 2013
16:44 GMT

The nightmarish amalgamation of fleshes and spirits before me tries to smile, but it looks like the… Nerves? Animation spells? Of its flesh-mask aren't quite connected up right. Or perhaps it's deliberate. In either case, the face doesn't move correctly for the expression.

"I admit that I'm surprised. So few people take any interest in the workings of the Odium."

In general shape it has definite stiltman vibes, two elbows and two knees allowing disproportionally long limbs to extend towards handholds in different parts of the room, hands and prehensile feet occasionally reaching out to twiddle with the controls on one machine or another.

"I can hardly perform the task which the First has set before me if I ignore Hell's industrial base. I understand that most of your components are alive?"

"I've found that distributing my intelligence reduces response times and allows severed parts to act independently."

"Ah, no. I mean the components you use in your work, not your personal components."

"Oh, it's been some time since I had to explains things to a rank outsider!" The demon before me sounds rather happy about having the opportunity. "In essence, Hell is a more arcane realm than Earth, but still has a strong element of physicality. Outside of Masak Mavdil, we are actually a somewhat material plane."

"Oh?"

"Oh, yes. If we were purely arcane, things would be very different. You should visit the Dream if you want to see what that is like. And while Masak Mavdil follows different rules, it also serves as our anchor point, tethering us and allowing us to accrete a concrete nature."

"And… Why has no one mentioned this to me before now?"

"We're demons."

I make an amused hiss. "Fair point."

"But it's so hard to make progress when people don't share information."

"Oh, I agree. But to return to the topic of raw materials?"

"As I said, we're a realm of both physicality and magic. As such, our materials must be composed of both."

"Do you have trouble sourcing what you need?"

"No, nooo. It's a fun day out for all the apprentices!"

"And what does it involve?"

"They get to take the rending engines for a test drive."

"Where?"

"Anywhere! We need things that are magical and physical, and the best source of things like that is anywhere those things are already one!"

"The souls of the damned."

"No! Those are purely arcane. They can be used, certainly, but they need to be broken down and bound to tangible materials first."

"Then..?"

"Demons! The slow and the unlucky. Our rendering engines chase them down and split their tissues up! Demon essence and demon flesh, just what we need!"

S-? Seriously?

"I don't imagine that makes you particularly popular."

The demon shrugs with two shoulders and a hip, bending in ways that make my own joints ache.

"We're demons. And we make useful things!"

So… Random murder… Or mutilation, if they retain any sort of consciousness in their new form. I should ask.

"Do the resulting artefacts remain aware?"

"That depends on what exactly is used. The spiritual power of a demon is essentially malleable. Consciousness is an emergent phenomenon. If I took your brain and cut it in half, and attached the half to the half-brain of someone else, would it be you? Would it be them? Would it be a new and fascinating person?"

"Probably that last one."

"But you're a god. You function as a being of spirit even more than we demons do. And your spirit is as much in your arm as your brain."

"That sounds like a fascinating area of study. But can you make… Mundane things as well?"

The demon's limbs still. "Like what?"

"To pick an example at random… A car."

"A car."

"Yes. They're a-."

A.. part of the demon's body which I had taken as being a hump… Opens up, revealing a series of inhuman brains linked together with.. organic tubes. One elongated arm reaches around and twists the assemblage, and-. Oh, I see. It can only read from one brain module at a time.

"Human machine for travelling. I could build one, but the wheel is not an organic shape." The demon flicks its hump closed. "It would be easier to build a novel beast. That's the sort of order I get most frequently."

"Is most of your work in the form of bespoke commissions?"

"As opposed to what?"

There was a definite edge to that 'what'. So this is a master craftsman who finds the idea of mass production insulting and degrading.

"'You' in the sense of the renderers as a whole. The sort of repetitive task you assign as a training exercise to apprentices while you personally focus on things requiring a greater level of skill."

"Ahhh…" The humps pops open again and is twisted two places around. "Medical and augmentative work forms the bulk of what we do. We use parts of demons to add to demons with currency to trade. Next comes the weaving of human spiritual energy with mundane matter; very time consuming and usually produces sub-par results. Then we're on to equipment."

"Do you produce cybernetics?"

"Not in the technical sense, though we do make mechanical golem limbs."

"Can human souls use your services?"

"I don't see how they could before becoming demons themselves. Living humans have been known to make contact, but the requirements are different."

"Do you trade for raw materials with them?"

"It depends on the difficulty of the job, but yes, it has been known."

"Okay. Would you mind showing me your ledgers?"

"That can be arranged."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Day 15
23rd March 2013
07:13 GMT

Alright, halfway point. The first time I've visited the office in Praetori which the First assigned to me. The demons here aren't exactly physically imposing, but they all look like they've modified themselves… Or been modified, to be better at searching through paperwork, carrying ledgers or writing with their own fingers using built-in reserves of your choice of ink or blood. None of them are a physical threat and the impression my god-senses are giving is that they're either devoted to their jobs or can't remember not to not be.

So what have I learned?

Demons have ork-levels of empathy. Neron's tantrums and the renderers' drive-by harvesting missions are… They're treated like course-hazards, not as decisions made by individuals who could be overcome by numbers and slain. Technically, law enforcement in Hell is headed jointly by Agony and Ecstasy, but the only thing they appear to have an interest in is the rule about them owning you if you lose to the same enemy three times in a row. They very obviously don't care about actual order, or the laws that would normally be established to maintain it.

Their staff are similar. They do occasionally receive direct instructions from their bosses, but for the most part are effectively left to enforce various pacts to the best of their ability/as far as their strength allows/when they can be bothered. Agony and Ecstasy do occasionally enforce discipline, but it's fairly haphazard and…

Again, it's a course hazard. Except the ones who actually derive satisfaction from being tormented by their bosses.

And then there's Satanus. The Chief Renderer made it pretty clear that he was lying to me about his raw materials. Combined with the comment that really old souls are unusual in Purgatory it seems likely that he's got a soul smelter set up somewhere. Probably on Earth. My best guess is that he focuses on the older ones because they're most likely to know nothing about modernity, and to have learned to accept the empty mists that the realm had before he took over. They can't help him as much and wouldn't want to anyway. Which means that the bricks, the soil… The souls of the mildly damned are mixed up in all of it.

Lovely.

Neron is creating improved warriors. He does actually treat his best soldiers with a degree of consideration. Based on Rosacarnis's reports, it looks like he was probably more annoyed that the new strength-focused giants couldn't casually rip me apart rather than their failure as individuals. The shining light I saw may well have been him attempting to tune up the spells, or him giving up and removing them. I might be able to get some of them to talk about it by claiming to have permission to talk to them and speaking with approval of the modification scheme, but it's the first sign I've seen that Neron is doing something useful with his position.

So, I suppose one of my first recommendations would be for the First to review all modifications and identify the most useful. Some sort of reward for whoever came up with it, and maybe a subsidy for demons considering getting it. But… Neron seems to prize destructive ability above everything else, and that's only really good for fighting other demons. Which probably isn't something that the First would want to encourage.

On a related note, I've also learned that the First has a marionette harem. Which… Isn't something that I particularly wanted to know, but it does suggest that he is perfectly happy to eliminate free will amongst the demonic population, at least at strategically useful points.

I think… Huh. Demons-. New demons come from three places. Firstly, existing demons use a part of their own innate energies to create them. This can look like normal sexual reproduction, or take the form of a parasitic implant inserted into the weaker party, or… One of a hundred different things. Secondly, a human soul can ascend to demonhood by absorbing Hell's magic until all of the virtuous traits have been boiled away. Most souls fall apart well before that happens, but even Nergal was a mortal man once upon a time. Thirdly, a naturally occurring locus of Hell's magics can give rise to a new demon. That's where Slime Demons come from, in their case not taking much power to come into being. Others… Well, it's not entirely clear that the abominations who exist within Masak Mavdil are demons, but that's how they arise and they're a good deal more…

Powerful.

Huh.

The thought occurs that while the Second and Third of the Fallen were demons, the First… He's more like an angel. Meaning that there's a good chance that he's vulnerable to kaahuite. Must remember to tell Constantine about that.

"Think of the devil..."

I look up as… That's not.. John-. Ah. No. It is, his other half.

"Do you prefer 'The Demon', 'John', or will 'Constantine' do?"

He drags a chair over from one of the other desks and takes up station across from me.

"Please, be seated."

"Got a fag?"

"You can't get one of the most popular narcotics in the world in Hell? I hadn't realised that the place had a 'no smoking' policy."

"They always put weird shit in it."

I shrug. I can imagine. I hold out my right hand-.

"Shouldn't you be more careful, asking people for things in Hell?"

"You're not a demon."

Silk cuts it is, then.

I pass the packet over, and he raises it to his nose and sniffs it. Then he smiles the smile of a forty-a-day man forced to go cold turkey before sliding a thumb nail through the plastic wrapping and popping open the packet.

"But you are a gent. You know who I am?"

"Roughly. A golem made using parts of John Constantine's memories and character, supposed to take his place in a ritual sacrifice."

"Did take his bleeding place in a ritual sacrifice. Saved the soul of every child in Hell an' still ended up down here."

"There's no justice."

"Gets better. Originally, I had a damned soul bound to me who was supposed to absorb all of the suffering, so I could just wander around. Wouldn't have been so bad, except some bastard up on Earth summoned it a few years later."

His eyes shimmer with dull red light as he pulls out a cigarette.

"So I went from looking just like him to this."

"You still look…" Alright, his jaw line's a little stronger, his hair's sticking out a bit and then there's the eye thing, but otherwise… "Pretty much like him."

"A demon, is what I mean."

"On the plus side, you can't get lung cancer again."

"Yeah, you better bloody believe he let me keep that memory."

"And since you managed to become a demon, just being here doesn't make you suffer any more, so why are you talking to me?"

"You've got a problem. You need to fix this place up a little, but making Hell work better is going to be worse for Earth, and everyone's running their own little games and generally taking the piss."

"So I should let you run your own little game and generally take the piss."

"Alright: do you think you're more cunning than John Constantine?"

"No."

"So why not tell me what you've put together so far and then we can put our heads together?"

"Because you're John Constantine with added demon. Neither thing exactly recommends you, and the two together don't cancel each other out."

"No?"

"I think I'll give myself a chance at solving it first."

"Alright." The end of his cigarette catches fire and he waves it, the smoke tracing out a runic shape. "Give me a bell when you admit defeat."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th September 2010
12:12 GMT -5

"So, ah…" Artemis looks around my laboratory. "This… Is where you hang out.. when you're not… Whatever."

Scan the rat and add it to the chart. Now that I know what I'm looking for, I can see the inrodentia behaviour that I included in the bubble of 'increasingly dominant' behaviours when it really wasn't. Continuing to attack a rat that has surrendered and tried to flee, for example. Chimps will do that, but I don't have a licence for chimp experiments.

"One of the places."

And?

And no one wants a chimp supervillain.

True, but not the point. What would you be testing for?

To see how their behaviour changes.

Artemis stares into one of the rat warrens, watching the little monsters run hither and thither for a few moments before turning around to look at me. "So what exactly are you..? Experimenting on them for?"

"There are dozens of ways to augment people, but most of them are hard to replicate. They require rare materials, only work on certain people, the person who invented it died without leaving any records…" I circle my right hand. "It's… Frustrating."

I step back and draw my pistol.

"Can be a bit fun, though." I raise it and point it at Streaky the Cat. "Watch."

Her eyes wide. "Don't-!"

BANG!

Streaky collapses, half its head blown off by the bullet. I start the clock.

"What did you do that for?!"

"Wait for it."

"Wait for what you psycho?!"

Streaky's remains twitch, and I start watching it even more closely.

"This usually takes about thirty seconds."

"Oh God. What-?"

The brain, bone and flesh regrow, then the hair all over its body sticks straight out as if it had a huge static charge. It awkwardly clambers to its feet, but a misjudged pull causes it to float upwards into the air. Streaky itself doesn't seem unduly bothered by that and lets it legs just droop as it looks down on us.

"What happened?"

"I got a blood sample from a man called Mitchell Shelley. He's got a form of nanobots in his blood that resurrect him whenever he dies. And every time he dies, he gets a new superpower."

"What… Part of that means you need to shoot a cat in the head?"

"Contrary to popular belief, lethal injection is actually a pretty painful way to die, whereas a bullet to the brain is almost instant."

It reaches the ceiling, and tries to scrabble around so that it can get its claws into the ceiling panels. Turning over works perfectly well, but its attempt at grabbing on with claws just pushes it off the ceiling and back towards the floor.

"But why a cat?"

"Mia said something about feeling lonely, so using nanotech to increase her cat's survivability and longevity just seemed natural."

"You shot Mia's cat?"

"I made Mia's cat immortal." Ah… Shouldn't over-sell it. "Probably. I probably made her cat immortal."

"P-probably? You mean you-. You weren't.. sure..?"

"Oh, no, just that I knew it would get better from being shot. I don't know that it's immortal. The thing about immortality is that it's easy to prove things aren't immortal. Proving things are immortal is harder."

"Okay, this is-. Does this..? Okay. Does Mia know what you're doing with her cat?"

"Ah… Probably? I mean, she's got super hearing, so she almost certainly hears the shots."

"Did you-? You didn't tell her."

"I told her I gave her cat super powers. She seemed pretty happy about it."

"Can you make anything immortal?"

I sigh. "No. After I took the initial sample and used it, the nanobots adapted to the technique I used to flash their memory. Everything that hadn't already adapted to the rats and the cat just shut down, and the same things happens to fresh samples."

I shake my head. That was… So disappointing. The superpowers are more or less irrelevant since they're almost always worse than a power ring. Flawless regeneration, even from fatal injuries, with a guarantee of no memory loss, slipped through my grasp and I don't even understand why. I'd have taken that over the Evil Formula any day.

Yeah. That was a big loss all around.

Well, what did you expect me to do? Just dose myself and hope for the best?

No, that would have been a bad idea. I'm just lamenting what could have been.

"Can it fix other stuff?"

"Yes, but it's slower than dying and resurrecting. I'm not sure why." Honestly, I'm mostly hoping that the resurrection effect turns out to be something I can load into the ring.

Me too. I'd be delighted to fix everything wrong with you.

Hah. "Shelley told me that he shoots himself if he stubs his toe, because it's easier than waiting for the pain to die down."

"Okay, but-. What about other injuries?"

I turn away from the aerocat and look at her. "Are you thinking of getting augmented? I've got a few which don't have-"

She shakes her head. "No, no."

"-side-. Effects?" I pull my right hand back from my Vitamin X bottle. "Okay, what-?"

"Like if someone had a severed spine or something."

Ah… "No, nothing here would fix-. Reliably fix that."

"Oh."

"That could be fixed with a biodegradable lattice and a stem cell solution, and that's a mundane treatment. Already proven to work on rats. You'd need to find a university that was ready for human trials, but because of how stem cells work it's basically guaranteed to work properly. I watched a program which showed researchers using that technique to grow a human heart, it's fascinating stuff."

"Right." She nods. "I was just hoping there was some way to just… Click your fingers and make it go away. Y'know? I get there's actually a lot of work in-."

"I could just fix it using the power ring. That would be easier." I shrug. "Take a few seconds, no side effects as far as I can tell. Why, do you have a spinal injury?"

She looks at me as if she's trying to spot a trick. I'm not sure-.

"My Mom? Ring any bells?"

"Oh. Yes. Ah. Hm."

"So, can you-? Can you fix her?"

"Will I.. get a second date out of it?"

Her face hardens. "Are you seriously holding my Mom's spine to ransom?"

"I have an orange power ring. It's literally powered by selfishness."

"I guess that explains why you're so powerful."

I consider frowning, but-. No. "Yes. I want to date you. If doing a thing gets me a date, I can do it. If I tried healing your mother out of pure altruism, it wouldn't work. I wouldn't be able to do it. I mean, I'm sure your mother is as.. fine a woman as an ex-supervillain can be, but I don't have any investment in her."

Her face relaxes a little. "So.. you couldn't do it, if-. Okay. And I just-. A date."

I nod. "Yes."

"And.. you're not-." She shakes her head. "Okay. A date. Somewhere public this time."

I nod. "Can do. Shall we go and see her now?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

20th October 2017
16:21 GMT

It's still a little surprising, just how normal supervillains can be. Even when they're dressed up, if you know how to approach them, you can start a conversation about American football or baseball or the weather and get a pretty normal answer back. I suspect it's something to do with how secure they feel in their position, and the position of the organisation in general. But outside of that…

Skud smiles as her son George haphazardly shares his blocks with his half-sister Atalanta, the lights from her cortical implant visibly shimmering under her skin. I'm not sure if parental responsibility is what caused their parents to cut down their intake of intoxicants or their ardent desire not to forget to use protection ever again, but it's made them all more effective operatives so I'm not going to complain.

And it's not just my former wards who've taken advantage of the relative security of the Syndicate's oligarchic rule of most of Africa to… If not settle down, to at least pair off and have children. Supervillainesses… Less so than the menfolk, as it's much easier for them to find someone they're willing to have bear their children than it is for a villainess to find someone she wants to sire her children and then take a year out to actually gestate and wean them. I've been taking notes that I'm going to use to write a sociology essay on the subject, though it will probably have to be published decades from now. The extra children added to our population, most of whom have superpowers, mean that I actually got to build the first ever supervillain nursery school, complete with robotic security staff able to intervene if their powers flare up during tantrums.

My own eldest daughter is… Trying to interest Pavor Scott in letter blocks, but it doesn't seem to be holding his attention. She actually sighs as he toddles off to grab a soft ball to throw around. She's approached just about every other child in our social circle, but… The children her age don't have the attention span, and the older children aren't interested in someone that much younger than them.

As she's aged, it's… Become increasingly obvious that she's retained at least some of her past life memories. I'm not sure if she has any specifics, but she's so much more mature than her peers that it's obviously causing difficulties in her socialisation.

"Hey." Zorina comes up behind me and leans into my left side, our son Zane sleeping against her chest. "Is she still having problems?"

"Mm." I nod. "I don't think we can put if off any more. If we don't know what she remembers, we can't help her."

She considers that for a moment, then nods in response. "You're right. Should I call Dad to take the others while we-"

"No, no."

"-talk it over with her?"

"No, I don't want to put her under even more pressure if all she's got is a few schematic patterns. I'll offer to play draughts with her, and just try bringing it up gradually. If she starts getting worried, I'll back off and let her know that she can talk to either of us whenever she wants."

"It's funny how she's so obedient. I'd have thought that the one who remembered being in command of her life would be more trouble than…"

I nod, tilting my head to the left so that my cheek presses against the top of her head. Oh, all of our children have given us sleepless nights, but Zita's younger sister Zoë has a habit of screaming at every little thing that she's showing no sign of growing out of. Zita on the other hand acts more like a miniature adult half the time and the only thing that distresses her are her own lapses into childishness.

Even a mature mind can't completely rise above the requirements of the body.

I turn my head and kiss Zorina's brow before walking-. Stopping as a small swarm of children race across the floor on painted wooden foot-driven lorries. Zita briefly watches them… It doesn't look like she want to join them exactly, and she swiftly turns away and goes back to-. She got a newspaper from somewhere, and she's reading it.

Yes, I've put this off for entirely too long. I walk across the floor, skirting the detritus that has spread out from the toy chests, and approach her. She comes to her feet when she spots me, paper poorly hidden behind her legs as she comes to parade rest.

"Father."

"Zita." I crouch down in front of her, smiling warmly. "What have I told you about calling me 'father'?"

Her eyes move away for a moment, and I see Pavor glance over with a bemused frown on his chubby face. "You told me to only use it if you had done something foolish."

I raise my eyebrows as she goes back to looking at my face.

"Dad."

"You see? That wasn't so hard." I keep smiling. "Are you busy?"

She glances down at the edge of her paper, then tries kicking it further backwards.

"No."

"How about a game of draughts with your Dad?"

For a moment she doesn't move, then she jerks her head towards the closest group of children. They pay her absolutely no attention.

"I-. Yes. Alright."

"Would you rather play something else?"

"No, ch-. Draughts is fine."

I look around-. Then I pick her up with both hands and head over to the nearest free table. I put her down feet first onto the bare metal chair on one side and sit on the opposite side myself, leaving our faces close to level with one another. Then I take a board out of subspace and lay it out before us.

"You shouldn't waste power like that. It's dangerous."

"I think it's more dangerous not to use it." I'm more than a little embarrassed about how long it took me to realise that her linguistic skills were far more advanced than anyone else her age. It wasn't until I compared her development to Zoë's that I started kicking myself. Actual five year olds don't sound like that. "Using it demonstrates that I could use it for other things. If people don't see me using it then they might do something stupid like decide that I don't have it any more."

She reaches across the table, picking up a black piece and a white piece. She tries to shuffle them behind her back, but it looks like she's having a little trouble holding them. And when she puts them out in front of her, her hands aren't quite big enough to cover them.

"You choose." She returns the black piece to its place in her front rank, and holds the white piece out to me. "Thank you."

I put my piece back in its place, and consider the best way to start.

"Zita, I've been meaning to ask for a little while. Now, this isn't anything to worry about, but-" She looks up at me with a sceptical expression on her face. "-do you ever..? Do you ever dream of places you don't remember visiting?"

"I think that most people dream of places they couldn't have visited." She slides a piece forwards. "I don't think my dreams are different to the dreams of other people."

"Alright, not a dream." I move one of my edge-most pieces towards the side. "Remembering something that you don't remember seeing."

She stops moving, hands floating above the board while her eyes are pointed at the pieces. "What do you mean, F-? Dad?"

"When you were very young, your mum took you to see some of her relatives, and they seemed to think that you might be able to… Remember certain things. Sometimes… People are born with someone else's memories already in their heads. Usually, they only have a few memories, and they don't really think much about them unless they see something in those memories in real life. But, sometimes, they remember more."

She hasn't moved.

"Now, I'm sure that you've noticed that you're a lot more mature than a lot of children your age-."

Is she..? Shaking?

I stand, reaching across the table and picking her up under her arms before holding her against my chest.

"Zita, you've done nothing wrong, you aren't in trouble."

"S-. Stupid child-body, can't control its emotions-."

Ah.

"That answers my next question. You remember a good deal, don't you?"

I feel her nod as the damp from her tears seeps through my t-shirt.

"Your mother and I are just worried that we're raising you wrong, given how developed you are. This isn't a situation that comes up in parenting classes. Are you alright to talk about it?"

"I don't like losing control, especially in front of people. Can we please go somewhere private?"

"Of course we can." I turn around, make eye contact with Zorina and nod towards the door to the meeting rooms. She nods. "Then you can tell me all about it."