With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Story Only)

[Mr Zoat]

Rampage

5th November
15:47 GMT +1

"Mister Grayven?" I look up as the Danish civil servant who fielded my request to speak to the Prime Minister as soon as possible appears from a nearby office. "Mister Lykketoft will see you now."

Mother Box.

Ping.

Boom!

"Ah-?"

I stride through the boom tube into Prime Minister Lykketoft's office. "Sorry to barge in like this, Mister Prime Minister, but it's actually extremely urgent."

"Not at all, Mister Grayven." He stands and offers me his right hand, which I shake somewhat urgently. "I'd offer you a chair, but…"

I shake my head, brushing the matter off. "Not a problem, I'm used to it."

He smiles, sitting back down. "Are you here to purge the Danish political establishment? I'm sure there are one or two people we could afford to lose."

"No sir. While I can't speak for the ability of your political establishment, in terms of probity you're doing quite well. I'm here because I've recently discovered that the National Museum of Denmark has in its collection three extremely dangerous magic artefacts, and I would very much appreciate it if you could arrange for them to be moved to somewhere a little more secure." I am completely serious.

"What… Ah… What artefacts are those?"

"A group of three necklaces with red beryl pendants dated as coming from the tenth century. They don't." I am authoritative.

"Are they older?"

"Almost certainly, but that's not the problem. Earlier this year a magic portal from a parallel universe opened briefly in Philadelphia, and a single individual from the other side came through. She's been working for me since, and…" Urgh. "I'm embarrassed about it now, but it only just occurred to us to look for people or artefacts which might have come through the portal previously." This is an immediate concern.

"And that is what we have?"

"So she tells me. All I can feel myself is that they are enchanted in some way, but she spent some time reading up on powerful arcane artefacts before she came through, and they match the description of a group of gems used by a trio of kelpies one of their historical heroes fought and 'banished'."

He nods. "And what do they do?"

"When active, they cause everyone in their immediate vicinity to become both aggressive and unusually receptive to the orders of the ones holding them. The more people they affect, the strong the effect gets, until… Everyone zombifies, in the original Vodun sense of having part of their soul removed. And then giant fish demons appear, and…" I shake my head. "It would be really bad and you've got them in a glass cabinet." Your preparations are inadequate.

He nods, a little stunned. "That sounds like something we should move."

"I'm glad you agree. Now, obviously I wouldn't presume to tell you where to put them. You have facilities?"

"Well… Ah, we have a high security metahuman prison-."

"I'm going to stop you right there. Does putting soul-sucking necklaces next to career criminals sound like a sensible plan to you?"

"I… Suppose not. Would a.. bank vault work?"

"Do you have a bank vault designed to resist magic-based attack? Because any magic user worth their salt will be able to feel these things."

"Is destroying them an option?"

I shake my head. "I asked, and, ah..? Short version? Uncontrolled magic discharges are very bad." Obviously.

He nods. "Do you have a suggestion?"

"Atlantis has facilities for handling artefacts like this. The Justice League could probably find somewhere reasonably secure to keep it contained." I shrug. "Giovanni Zatara lives in a house with all sorts of protective enchantment upon it. Either could work safely."

"And you? This.. expert you have? Does she know how to contain it?"

I nod. "Yes, but according to her, containing them isn't hard. You just.. don't put them on. The challenge is keeping other people away from them. My home is -obviously- highly protected with Apokoliptian technology, Atlantean magic and a species of telepathic warrior drones. And Sunset -that's her name, Sunset Shimmer- thinks that if she can study them in more detail it will become easier for her to trace any other objects that might have come through."

"Other objects?"

"As far as Sunset remembers, the one who created the mirror habitually sent dangerous objects through. We're only just starting to study how the magics of her home parallel interact with Earthly magics… Well, I don't think we have to worry about portals from there becoming a frequent occurrence, but I'd like to be able to tell you that for certain."

5th November
10:23 GMT -6

The boom tube collapses behind me as I drop the three crystals onto Sunset's work bench. She stares at them and then at me in surprise. "They gave them to you that quickly?"

"Emergency powers are for emergencies. The Danish government has authorised us to securely store them pro tem. We don't own them, so don't destroy them."

She walks over to take a closer look. "I wonder what happened to their owners?"

"According to the curator, Prince Haraldson was reputed to have killed a great many monsters before his disappearance. There was no specific mention of any kelpies, but if I had to guess…"

She frowns as she picks one of the amulets up, and I hear a faint… Music..?

"Hm." She puts it down again. "The bound spells are definitely still active. I think I'd better put a ward around them until I'm ready to start experimenting."

"You don't feel like going on a mind controlling rampage?"

"I don't want other people's power. I want to increase my power. I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"Ahhhha…?"

"No! Really!" She holds my gaze for a moment, then looks away. "Okay, maybe I… Thought about... Bucking Celestia in the face with alicorn-level earth pony strength once or twice, but I don't want to take her power. Someone's got to raise the sun."

"You don't want to do that?" I raise my eyebrows slightly. "I.. couldn't help but notice that your insignia is also a sun."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean I automatically know how to raise it."

"Don't I.. seem to remember something about it originally being-."

"Moved by a team of unicorns." She rolls her eyes as she starts drawing designs for the containment ward on her workshop's CAD program. "I don't put a lot of faith in Hearth's Warming stories."

"I was thinking that if it used to happen and it doesn't any more, that's a massive failure in contingency planning. One sniper gets a lucky shot at Celestia and the planet no longer has a sun." Sunset looks up, frowning. "Really, they should have a team trained up and practising regularly just in case."

"Huh." Her eyes move away for a moment. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I should be glad that it's not just me Celestia's bad at sharing with."

"So what does your insignia represent?"

Circles appear on her screen. "Right now? Nothing. I'm not a pony. I don't even have a cutie mark any more."

"Sun-."

She rolls her eyes. "Learning and using magic. And I guess it's a sun because everypony knows that the greatest and most powerful magic user in the world is Celestia. So after I've become an alicorn I'm going to see if I can trade it in or something, because I don't want a memento of her on my haunches forever."

"Maybe… You should think about it as… You've got one sun per side, right? Maybe it's about finding your own sky to shine in. You know? Two suns would burn the world, but one each-."

"That's not how it works." She looks over at the necklaces, and then back to me. "But… Thanks… For trying. And for… All this."

I beam, then spread my arms wide. "Hu-?"

"No."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Retribution

14th November
08:55 GMT -3

Absolute concentration.

I know full well that the League aren't going to let me keep the Medusa Mask, but it really does make most sense for me to use it here.

Crop-spraying constructs miles across rain bacteriophage down on northern Argentina, Lantern Stewart moving them around effortlessly. I wasn't certain exactly how much better it would make his ability with constructs, but this is far larger than any I've seen him use before.

Kal-El watches in the air next to me. "I was impressed with how quickly you and Kara came up with this."

"Nam-Ek came up with this. We just thought to ask him."

"But you had to do the lab work." He glances at me. "And you said that if you wanted to help the people here enough to do that with your ring, you'd just have used your ring in the first place."

"I know I say 'want', but… It's avarice. How much I want it for me. I mean, on balance-."

"Of course. I wasn't trying to imply you wanted them to die."

"Right."

Kal-El frowns faintly. "You're kinda making this hard going."

"We didn't make it. Realistically, even if we understood exactly what Nam-Ek wanted us to do, it would have taken weeks for us to get it right."

"So who did?"

I smile, the maw of the mask moving to mirror my mouth. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Ask me again and I'll give you an honest answer."

"Where you're concerned, I don't dare not get an answer." He folds his arms across his chest. "Who did the work? Was it Cranius?"

"No. Georgia Sivana."

For a moment his face tightens, images of a cross section of her past misdeeds being played out all across South America flick through his mind.

"I checked that she just did what I asked, and she got what she considered a fair trade out of it." Ploutos was perfectly happy to take a few books on xenoeconomics in exchange for speaking to 'Georgina Silva' for a few hours. He even seemed to enjoy it, though I don't think he realised who he was talking to.

Kal-El calms down slightly, though he still doesn't look impressed. "So you know where the Sivana family are?"

"Again-."

He bows his head and closes his eyes. "For God's sake."

"And yes, I know they've got a ring binder of outstanding warrants and gaol sentences each, but I've checked and they're genuinely committed to preparing for the Sheeda Harrowing and frankly I think that's more important." I go back to focusing on Lantern Stewart.

Absolute concentration.

"I wonder if we can administer other things like this."

"No, and you're not allowed to mention the idea anywhere near journalists."

I rotate in the air until I face him, then raise my eyebrows and slowly shake my head. "So Mister Kent-?"

"Journalists other than those who already have access to the relevant mission reports. We had enough trouble convincing the governments to allow us to do this."

I'd… Say something about telling them to get stuffed and doing it anyway, but unless the League has adapted to my last batch of recommendations I don't see any point in making new ones. On the other hand… Might be worth knowing more about the pressures they're encountering from that side.

"How did they want you to handle it?"

"A standard vaccination program."

"But we don't have a vaccine. We've got a bacteriophage. You can't inoculate people with a bacteriophage."

"No, but you can give them a dose whenever they get reinfected and run a screening program to spot them early enough that it wouldn't take Accomplished Perfect Physician coming back in order to heal them."

"That would take…" Survival time of the bacteria outside of a host organism… "At least two months, possibly more if it can infect animals or if any samples were in a shaded environment, and cost in the millions of dollars at a low estimate."

"That's why I persuaded them to approve us doing this." He uncrosses his arms. "Any trouble with using the Mask?"

"No, but I have to report that it doesn't provide any direct feedback on its own effects. I mean, I get that anyway, but for anyone else…"

"If you're angling to keep hold of it, you're wasting your breath."

"I just want you to keep me in mind for any future occasions when you think it could be productively utilised. Given how useful it is to combine its abilities and mine."

He nods. "I'll be sure to keep you in mind."

"So… How are you doing?"

"Oh, I just picked up a few bruises. Nothing serious."

"I meant about another kryptonian turning-." I frown. "Actually, this whole thing with the rondor has rather drawn my attention to the fact that I don't know the actual name for kryptonian humanoids such as yourself as opposed to other life forms from Krypton."

He smiles. "Actually, it's 'human'."

"What?"

"The word in Modern Kryptonese doesn't sound like human, but in terms of its origin, it's derived from an ancient word meaning 'thinking being'. 'Human' is the closest equivalent in English."

"Okay, ring? Translation off. What does the word actually sound like?"

"Ah… Kara could.. pronounce it better than me, but it's something like 'browkh' or.. 'blowkh'."

"You're a kryptonian bloke."

"Like I said, I'm not sure what the formally correct pronunciation is-."

I just shake my head. "Never mind. Has Kara talked to you about the phantom zone inmates?"

"The ones who aren't complete monsters?" I nod. "She did. But I don't really think there's much I can do about it. I'm certainly not prepared to risk the Earth if I release the wrong one."

"Why not get Green Lantern Tomar-Re to do it? I'm sure he still feels terrible about dropping the ball on the whole Krypton situation, and it would be a trivial matter for him to find a world without a yellow sun to perform test releases. And Har-Zod should be able to provide you with information on who is scheduled for release."

He nods, a small smile creeping onto his face. "That's not a bad idea at all."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Gods and Mortals

22nd November
09:16 GMT -5

Sephtian waves his hands over the control unit for his thaumic imaging array, and some of the glowing eases off. I don't sit up -because it's actually quite hard to move when you're this far under water and aren't wearing a power ring- but I do turn my head his way.

"So? How am I?"

Sephtian blinks. "How would I know?"

I try pushing myself upright. And fail. "Professor-."

"Your spiritual structure is unique. I can.. compare it to what you had upon the few occasions when I examined you previously." His head fronds wave. "You have changed. Given the nature of your life, this is expected. But I have nothing to compare you to."

"Magic users experience soul growth as they grow in power."

"Yes, that is true. And I have tried to compare the data we have on that with the data I have collected from you. And if there is a link I cannot find it." He floats back slightly. "I.. think that you should speak to a Controller."

"Controllers don't use magic."

"Perhaps not in their recent history, but historically-."

"No, they got these… Symbiotic super bacteria that made it really easy for them to manipulate the universe around them. It happened so early in their history that they never learned to do… Magic, and skipped anything remotely approaching a normal technological development. As a result, they don't really have good data on arcane phenomena. I mean, regarding them. And no other Orange Lantern has… Had the work done that I've had done."

This isn't really what I wanted to hear, but at least he can't find any obvious points of concern.

"Can I put my rings back on?"

"Yes, yes."

I put my hands out to the side and call my rings onto my ring fingers as Sephtian gestures again and the sensor bars slide aside. As they touch my skin my environmental shield flares back into life and suddenly moving becomes a good deal easier. I float upward in the water and assume an upright posture.

"Are my scry wards still working?"

"Yes, though I believe that I could replicate the technique which Satanus used to bypass them. The theoretical aspect is simple, even with our limited knowledge of demon magic."

"Great. Am I.. safe outside of Hell, or is that a wider concern?"

"Technically? Yes." He makes a sweeping motion with both arms. "Your soul is a stable construct of earthly magics. As Satanus said, it has been stable for some time. But, when exposed to magic that is not part of the Earth's arcane networks… It appears that you can continue to absorb other forms of arcane energy as well."

"And does that damage the earthly structure?"

"I don't know. Perhaps if you went back to Hell for a few weeks and then came back, I could tell you."

"The Ace..?"

"Worked. Your spiritual makeup no longer contains anything I cannot recognise as earthly. It has changed, perhaps as a result of half of the synthesis being destroyed. But it appears healthy, if atypical."

"And the fragment which the g-oni removed?"

"Were you able to confirm that Satanus was the one who sponsored them?"

"No. He didn't boast about it to me, and now he's not talking to anyone other than his legal team."

"If I understand what you saw correctly, what they removed was a formatted packet of arcane energy. You would have experienced a brief period of relative arcane weakness… Which would matter little as you are not a magic user yourself and were not fighting a conventional magic user. And then your tattoos would repair the damage. They might have been able to use it to remotely affect you through the sympathy principle, but given your recent travail I would be surprised if it was still similar enough to your soul as it is now for that to work."

I smile. "Do you think it could be useful for everyone to get reformatted every so often?"

"It… Is a known treatment for certain forms of remote arcane attack. But… The methods we have developed so far are usually as deadly as any attack. I am aware of only two successful cases out of a little under a hundred attempts that are documented."

"So..? Don't worry about it?"

"It may be of use to someone studying the orange light, but I do not believe that it is presently a significant threat to you."

"With a grand total of two Orange Lanterns this side of Vega, I'm not going to worry about that. Anything else you think I need to check?"

"Your.. rings. You have a powerful bond to them, and a sufficiently clever sorcerer could spread their magic through you into them."

"Shouldn't any spell be shredded when I recharge them?"

"Paul, I… Am grateful for the projects that you have brought to me. To Atlantis. But please do not give me any more. I have not attempted to study the arcane mechanisms of personal lantern recharging and I do not think that it would be a profitable use of my time."

"Sorry."

"So my answer is 'maybe'. I would wager that the Ophidian involving herself directly would have that effect, but I would not so wager for a normal recharge. Though that is not a certainty. I have no specific knowledge of power rings. I merely know that some arcane artefacts can retain tracing charms when being recharged."

"Okay." I hold out my hands towards him. "Please put a tracer spell on these."

He stares for a moment, and the rings sort of… Glisten? Alright, I've suspected that this is possible for a while…

Rings, there is a foreign energy attached to you. Consume it.

Unable to precisely identify energy form. Initiate general purpose consumption?

… Yes?

"In progress."

The water around my hands turns to ice-. No, turns to frozen oxygen and hydrogen before melting and turning into a cloud of bubbles.

"Did that get it?"

"No, it did not. Perhaps-."

"Rings, try harder. Not heat, not electromagnetism, not matter. Magic. Think more like the orange light itself. Like what you do when you turn someone into an orange construct."

"Attempting."

And I-. Feel something.

Sephtian gasps as a faint orange sheen shimmers over his skin.

"Consumption complete."

"Did I get it?"

"Yes. Yes you did. And please do not ask me to ensorce your rings ever again. I think you may have found a way to save on your frequent spell eater consumption, and I assure you that the experience is no more pleasant for the caster."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Excavation

10th December
15:48 GMT

"Mister Grayven."

Lord Sheldrake stares up at me, generally affecting an air of being mildly displeased by my presence but also of being far too polite to mention it. I can't help but smile. Not sure exactly what the cause of his attitude is. I mean, yes, I toppled his country's government with very little notice, and… Despite my best efforts there has been a degree of civil unrest. Not sure what the point of protesting is when all of the offenders are already in prison, but…

"Lord Sheldrake." I extend my right hand. "Good to see you again."

He takes it, and I get exactly one shake before he releases it again. "Likewise."

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Miss Amane twirls her scythe like a majorette's baton for a mildly impressed Miss Hutchinson.

"How are things?

"It could be worse."

I nod slowly. "If there's anything I can do to help..?"

"I'm not sure we'd survive more of your help." He sighs. "The acting Home Secretary signed off on the release paperwork. We're a bit short-staffed at the moment, so I hope you don't mind us not having a formal parole hearing."

"No no, quite understandable. If anything I'm a little impressed that things have been turned around as quickly as they have."

Lord Sheldrake turns away and starts walking into the grounds of the Tower of London. "If you'd like to come with me, I'll introduce you to the Chief Warder."

Arms folded behind my back, I stroll after him. Miss Amane is talking about something to Miss Hutchinson, but cuts herself off as soon as she notices me leaving and blurs to my side. Scythe over her left shoulder, she smiles brightly up at me and has a decided spring in her step. Miss Hutchinson brings up the rear.

Crowds are… We're definitely drawing attention, but the Yeomanry are on guard and keeping them back. Ordinary Yeomen, who include guarding John Dee's magical prison as part of their duties. They're wearing rather fetching red, gold and white uniforms and are armed with mostly-ceremonial-but-still-perfectly-sharp spears. No 'ER' on the clothes, but…

Ah. Magic. Probably more of Magister Dee's work. I wonder exactly how tough it makes them?

"I take it that you've familiarised yourself with exactly why Mister Fiendstein was imprisoned here?"

"Certainly." And despite the convictions I'm personally not convinced that there was anything sexual in it. For him, at least. "But I don't think that we'll have anything to worry about."

"They were children, Mister Grayven. And you're letting him out."

"I am aware. And his family are as well. I have ensured that the agreed upon conditions will be fulfilled."

He exhales with frustration, glancing back as he does so. "I know that you're lying. I know he doesn't have any family. What are you playing at?"

I frown. "Hey. Family isn't just about blood, you know." I reach out and pat Miss Amane on the head to her obvious pleasure. "Even Mister Fiendstein has people who are concerned about him."

"Un-Men." I glance back at Beryl Hutchinson, aka Squire, 'the brains of the outfit'. "You're talking about the Un-Men."

Lord Sheldrake stops and turns around just before the entrance to the Tower itself. "Squire?"

"Synthetic organic people created by Anton Arcane. Most of them live in the States now. Grayven's known to be working with them… I hadn't put it all together, but the time Fiendstein was out of Britain corresponds to when Arcane was still in Romania." She looks up at me. "Right?"

I nod. "True. There's knowledge in his head that doesn't exist anywhere else. Shall we-?"

Lord Sheldrake still isn't moving. "Are they dangerous?"

"They do exotic medical research. Kobra stole some of their drugs back in January and people died, but that wasn't really their fault. I.. don't think that having Fiendstein is going to make them more dangerous, and they mostly keep to themselves. I'd.. say not." She gives me a hard look. "Except for the fact that Grayven was trying to avoid telling anyone."

"They don't want news of the association getting around. They appreciate that they're unsightly-" Intellectually appreciate, at least. "-but they've got a good thing going on and don't want the bad press. And that's how you can be certain that they'll keep him under control."

"And what do you get out of it?"

"Improved biotechnology. Fiendstein will most likely be perfectly happy to share with them, and they can give him enough to do that he won't… Wander off, as it were." I pointedly nod toward the door. "Shall we?"

Lord Sheldrake turns and stalks through the entrance, irritation visible in every motion. Well, what did he think I wanted the man for? I follow him inside, feeling a mild tingle as I pass through the outer wards. These were a later addition, and aren't anything like as potent as what Dee put on the cells beneath our feet. Inside, it looks like a prison reception. The interior doors are barred and locked, and the yeomanry on duty put the 'beef' in 'beefeater'.

The Chief Warder exchanges nods with Lord Sheldrake, then approaches me with a clipboard. "Mister Grayven. If you could please sign here."

I take it from him and give it a quick once-over. Looks simple enough. "Of course." Sign and date, sign and date… I pass it back, and he countersigns it and then nods to the yeoman at the desk.

She picks up a phone. "Bring him up."

Drama aside, the actual prison isn't particularly large and they knew I was coming. It shouldn't take-.

The door opens with a clank, and a yeoman leads Mr Fiendstein out into the light.

Mr Fiendstein's various 'procedures' have made him an odd-looking man, especially without the coat which he used to wear continuously. His mouth is constantly just a little open, granting his improved scent and taste receptors access to the air. It also grants anyone near him the opportunity to spot his extended incisors. Not sure why he bothered doing that. Nothing in the reports I read suggested that he ever bit anyone, though his teeth are hardened. Maybe it was a side effect?

His head is unusually round due to his additional glands and jaw-broadening modifications. For similar reasons his neck is more or less non-existent, the flesh of the lower part of his head merging seamlessly with his shoulders. The bones are still there and he actually doesn't have all that much body fat, but all of those modifications needed space. His ovoid blob of a torso similarly looks like he should be fat, while in fact it contains an advanced organic chemical plant that lets him digest almost anything and usefully utilise it. His legs are strangely thin and short, the result of his altered musculature and skeletal structure. His visible skin is a very pale grey and the texture is rough in a way which in anyone else would suggest an unpleasant skin disease.

He grins as he spots me. "Oh, Mister Grayven! What a wonderful day! To be back in the bosom of my delightful family once more!"

"Mister Fiendstein. Ready to go?"

"Am I?" He sounds completely mystified as he turns to the desk. "Am I?"

Two slightly mildewed bags are passed over the desk by a glove-wearing yeoman. "Please confirm the contents and sign here."

Mr Fiendstein picks up the bags and flicks out his tongue, lassoing the proffered pen and pulling it into his mouth while he makes his search. I watch his grin grow as the yeoman recoils slightly.

One down.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Foundation

20th December
17:56 GMT -5

It's.. not the Themysciran embassy.

I seem to remember that in… Tornado's Path? Red Tornado went to a job centre and stated that he needed a job for the purpose of survival. He's nothing like that desperate in this timeline. Doctor Morrow created a trust designed to pay out enough money for him to fund his own repairs, and with Morrow legally dead all of his remaining assets passed to his only acknowledged son.

But 'John Smith' doesn't have a good excuse for accessing those resources. His present residence is a two storey middle of terrace house a little way outside of New York City. Close enough to commute, far enough away that house prices are noticeably cheaper even in the good areas. And close enough that if necessary he can use the New York zeta tubes.

I'm a little early, and since his house is warded I can't just look inside. Apparently. It seems that I've finally managed to hit the League with the clue bat hard enough that something stuck. Might be a slight chance of the ward being detected, but an element-manipulating android is pretty easy to track with magic anyway.

I smile at a woman out walking her dog, then walk up the steps to his front door and knock twice. No immediate response. I asked if this was a good time to pay him a visit Saturday and he said yes, but as John Smith he also doesn't have a reason to have a superhero's phone number. Or the ability to answer the phone at any time. I wonder if he'd consider upgrading his-?

The door opens, and I'm still not quite used to seeing Red Tornado's more human-seeming body. In fact, I… Don't think I've seen him in it since New Year. He smiles, and I take the opportunity to scan the structure of his face. Ah, he went for a pure-tech with a pretend flesh coating rather than the synthetic flesh I made for Danni. I suppose that it's easier to maintain. He's still bald, and I'm not sure that's a good idea. Even the prematurely balding usually have some hair. I know Lex's head still produces a few thin red wisps he shaves off each day. Designing synthetic skin without follicles is easier, but it can end up being a bit of a giveaway.

"Paul. It is good to see you."

He holds out his right hand, and I clasp it with mine and shake it. Hm. Rather mundane in construction. I think it's actually slightly weaker than a human hand. Not the way I'd have gone, but it's his limb.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, John."

We unclasp, and I hold out my somewhat belated housewarming present. Red Tornado… Ah, John, I suppose I should say, runs his right index finger through the paper wrapping and pulls out the picture frame. In it are a series of artificially coloured photographs of various members of the Justice Society in their civilian clothes. Mr Grant aside none of them are particularly recognisable, and only real boxing aficionados would spot him.

"Thank you." He steps back slightly. "Would you like to come in?"

I nod, and step though the door into his hallway. He closes the door, then leads the way into his living room.

"Can I offer you something to drink?"

I sit in the middle of the smaller of his two settees. "No, I'm.. fine, thank you. Do you… Drink?"

He sits down opposite me. "I designed this body with the capacity to eat, but only to keep up appearances. I can't process it usefully."

"You know, I could… Probably set you up with the same system Danni uses."

"I appreciate the offer, but I am more interested in improving my understanding of human social mechanics than in making marginal improvements to my non-combat chassis." He focus on my face. "You do not believe that the two are mutually exclusive."

"In your position, I would have made my chassis as durable as possible and then started my social dynamics studies. You can't study if you've been shot dead by a bullet a better designed skull would have stopped."

"But then I would be more resilient than the humans around me. I do not think that adding another point of divergence would help me in gathering good data. Besides, the level of violent crime in New York is far lower than it used to be."

I shrug. "It's your skull. How are your studies coming along?"

"It is… Different. When I socialise with my friends in the Justice Society or the Justice League, there is a far higher level of interpersonal engagement than in the hundreds of less structured interactions I now experience daily. Since Father designed me to be openly robotic I lack both the social dynamics programming that my brother and sister possess and the high speed analytic processing abilities of more modern AIs. Learning this way is challenging." He blinks for the first time. "And since I am confident you were about to ask, I do not wish to correct either factor."

"And I will respect that choice, even if it sounds daft to me." I sigh quietly. "I'm sure you know why I'm here."

"Yes. Nabu. I am a little surprised that it has taken you this long to speak with me. And I am further surprised that you felt a face to face conversation was necessary."

"I prefer face to face. And… It's not… Just Nabu. I also.. want to ask about Doctor Morrow."

"He is keeping as well as can be expected. We constructed a mechanical epidermis for him to occupy so that he can interact with people. Would you like to speak to him?"

Unsettling as I find him, I'm sure that Hinon would appreciate a little more data. "Yes, thank you. The Controllers are investigating whether or not it's possible to turn Construct Lanterns back into people, and I'd like more up to date information on his condition."

He nods, then gets up and walks to the door. "Father, could you come down here, please?"

"Just a moment."

"Though while we're waiting..?"

He turns back to me. "It was my belief that the technique most likely to persuade Nabu to leave Mister Zatara safely was gradual persuasion and a worldwide reduction in threats which served to justify his actions in his own mind. Therefore, that was the approach I pursued. I was… Surprised, both by how direct you were and how successful you were. I bear you no particular malice over the event."

I nod, leaning back slightly. "A perfectly reasonable answer. I assume that's also why you voted him in?"

"Yes. Since I had no leverage and no counter magic techniques that I could utilise safely, I felt that continued engagement was the best of the available options. Having reviewed your planning for the encounter in Hyde Park, I do not believe that I have any outstanding questions regarding your methodology."

"Anything you'd like to draw my attention to?"

"Given your ability to locate magic users, I am a little surprised that you could not locate at least one who would be willing to host Nabu in the short term. That would have made your statement that you would prefer a negotiated settlement more believable. That you did not leaves me curious as to whether you actually wanted him to refuse."

"I wasn't particularly comfortable making that offer at all. Volunteer or not, I didn't like the idea of leaving someone in a black void while Nabu puppeted their body. The golem option was far superior." I shrug. "If he'd said 'yes' I'd have done it, but no. I didn't want him to."

"You are still insisting that your offer was genuine?"

"I'm an enlightened Orange Lantern. If I hadn't wanted a peaceful solution I wouldn't have offered a peaceful solution. I wouldn't have felt bad about it."

He nods, stepping back from the door as footsteps echo down the stairs. "Thank you for explaining that to me. Father, you remember Orange Lantern?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Clarion Call

24th December
06:12 GMT +1

The man tied to the chair looks up at me with a look of panic, before immediately shifting to hope.

"Oh thank God, you've got to get me out of here! I've been kidnapped!"

I take a moment to get a better look at him, frowning as I do so. He'd be about one metre sixty if he were stood upright, he's bald and he's wearing thick-rimmed glasses of a sort that haven't been in fashion for decades. He's wearing a white shirt (mildly dishevelled) and a pair of blue jeans. And… Correct for my host's physical abnormalities…

"I'm.. sorry, I realise that this seems a little heartless, but could you please tell me your name?"

"Sivana. Professor Theodore Bilford Sivana."

"I see." I hold up my right forefinger. "Would you please bear with me for just a moment? I'll be right back."

"What, are you working with him?"

I step back out of the room, closing the soundproof door behind me and turning to face the smugly smiling countenance of Dr Thaddeus Bodog Sivana.

"What do you think?"

"Doctor Sivana, why do you have your… Brother? Clone?"

"Parallel universe duplicate."

"That would have been my third guess…" I shake my head. "Why?"

He frowns slightly. "I have a little trouble with insufficiently well-defined questions. Could you possibly-?"

"Ah. I'm sorry. Why is he in there, tied to a chair?"

"I thought that tying him to a surgical table would give the wrong impression."

"Y.. es…" I.. take a moment to readjust. "I meant, in general. Why do you have that man in your complex? The fact that he is specifically tied to a chair is more or less incidental. But still pertinent in so much as he's bound."

"Yes, you see, this is exactly why." Doctor Sivana raises his right hand above his head and waves it for a moment. "I understand that my social skills are… Less than they might be."

"… Good?"

"I have a process, when my knowledge of a particular area-" He turns away from me and starts pacing. "-is under the required level. Ideally, I would consult a written work on the subject… Or a cross section of them. But-" He reaches the end of his pacing area and turns. "-I've tried that before, and I'm… Divorced. It wasn't my idea. I still love my-. My ex-wife. I think that something I'm doing is merely compounding my fundamental problem."

"That… Could well be."

"I am aware that… Cooperating with people outside of my immediate family is something I find... Trying."

"So.. you.. opened a portal to a parallel universe and abducted a version of you who trained as a social scientist?"

His face screws up in bewilderment. "No." His face brightens up. "I abducted the only version of me who isn't a supervillain!"

I blink. "The only-?" I frown. "I thought… There were reverse-morality universes..?"

"Ah, yes. That visit from your blue alter-ego." He brings his hands together in a praying gesture just in front of his chin. "It seems that there's something about me that results in me either dying or descending into villainy. Of one sort or another. Even when most of my peers would be the alter-egos of people who are heroes here. It's a puzzle that I've been meaning to examine for a while… But the matter of the sheeda is so much more urgent. I need to learn what I haven't managed to learn so far, and he's the best person for teaching me."

He nods, smiling confidently.

Hm.

"Doctor, do you remember when we started cooperating, I sent you an audiobook called 'How To Succeed In Evil'?"

He goes back to frowning. "Why would I need to read something on how to succeed in evil? I've been doing that for decades now."

"But you acknowledge that there are things about how the things which you do interact with wider society which you don't understand, yes?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Yes..?"

"That's why I sent it to you. The main character has the same problem, only he's focusing on gaining money rather than developing new technology. There's a part which relates to exactly what you've done here. The main character is employed to make someone a great deal of money, and asks if he could consult with an expert on energy distribution networks. His employer has the man kidnapped."

Dr Sivana nods. "That sounds perfectly efficacious to me."

"But he wanted a phone call. Not only was the man some distance away -meaning that kidnapping him and bringing him to the main character's location took more time than a phone call- it also increased the risk of discovery by engaging in illegal activity in public. Whereas with a phone call he could have got the information he wanted more quickly and entirely legally."

Dr Sivana blinks a couple of times. "You believe that I should have phoned him."

"I believe that offering a voluntary exchange… His help in return for technology or money, would have put him in a far more helpful frame of mind. As opposed to-" I glance back at the door and through it to the yellow outline I can see through it. "-now, when he believes that he's the prisoner of a lunatic."

"Ah." Dr Sivana frowns a little. "I.. see. You may have a point there."

"Why don't you let me try to talk him around?"

"Yes, that's.. probably for the best. We participated in a multi-Sivana team up once, and I don't think that the rest of us gave a particularly good impression."

"Multiple backstab pileup?"

"More the same backstab in a thousand different vectors. Actually, I was a little disappointed that we all came up with essentially the same thing."

"Alright. I'll be back in a few minutes."

I turn away, reopen the door and step back through. "Professor. I'm very sorry about this and of course-" I extend a construct and sever his bonds. "-I'll get you out at once."

He doesn't get up, but brings his hands together and rubs the parts of his wrists that were bound. "Thank you. So… I can just… Go?"

"You can. However-."

"Oh God."

"You've met your local alter-ego. As you can no doubt tell, he's-."

"He's crazy! Like all the others!"

"But he's trying to redirect his inherent malevolence against some very unpleasant people who are planning on destroying our entire civilisation. The reason he brought you here is because he wants your help as a life-coach. He wants to learn to… Well, essentially, to not be a supervillain.. and… You're the only one he thinks can do it. You don't have to, and if you choose to help him then you don't have to live here to do it. And he's prepared to compensate you well and… If you're wondering why he didn't start with offering that, then you're beginning to understand why he needs your help."

His mouth opens and closes a few times.

"I'm a physicist. And he wants to learn social skills from me?"

I nod. "As I said, he's pretty desperate."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Judgement Day

25th December
08:45ish? GMT

"6:3 The whole earth is full of his glory!"

I try tuning out the sycophantic chanting as I look…

Okay, I'm not looking, obviously. That would require eyes. I guess..? I had sort of assumed that ghosts perceived the world around them by having the coherent magic of their forms form loose connections with the innate magics of the world around them. I… I think I'm seeing more or less normally, but that could just be my brain interpreting-.

Well… No, it can't. I no longer have an organic brain. Which does lead to the obvious question as to how I'm thinking. I mean, yes, okay, the soul is a complex system of arcane energy. There's no inherent reason why one wouldn't be able to think… If in an appropriately supportive environment. But brain damage is still a thing. Brain damaged magicians… Ugh, I'm trying to remember if I read anything about that… Atlanteans tend to fix brain damage with biomancy so they haven't ever bothered to study the effects in detail…

Oh, great. No rings means no perfect recall. And without all of the tune-ups I made to my thinking meats, I'm back to… What? Okay, Heaven… I assume. I'm surrounded by clouds as far as the 'eye' can 'see'. I guess the Mind of God doesn't want to see me immediately.

I was hoping for something a bit more creative. Fluffy cloud Heaven? That's something a low-budget televangelist might put out. Okay, try… Turning around.

…

It all looks the same. Or did I just not turn? There's no point of reference and I.. don't appear to have a physical presence. Which is irritating because I definitely remember there being a garden in the Swamp Thing version of Heaven. Even Anton Arcane got to go there. I am seriously supposed to be-? Alright, I did kill more people… But I did it for reasons of justice and order, not for fun or to assuage personal curiosity.

No, no, I'm not going to try to justify myself to these people. Let's try to do something productive. I picture myself reaching out with both hands.

Rings.

Oh, oh, that was not… I can't.. feel…

Eh. Alright, no orange light. Wherever I am I'm clearly beyond its reach. So I can't call my rings, reach the Ophidian-.

…

I can't speak. Which doesn't really make sense. Seeing is dependent on eyes, yet I can still see. Ghosts have been recorded as speaking, I'm clearly capable of forming coherent thought…

Sound? Yes, disembodied chanting. But nothing else, not even the wind which should be blowing if there really are clouds-.

Oh shit. No one can reach me here. No post-mortem communications… Assuming that the angels stop attacking Earth now that I'm here, Jade will get access to my contingencies file. So… Even optimistically, I've got a wait of months before someone can get the parts for a white power ring together. Assuming that those can override the restrictions from whoever runs this place. Because if Satanus could work out how to mess around with a Lazarus Pit, I hope that my friends have the sense not to use one in this situation.

HELLO!

Ugh, stupid idea. They wouldn't have put me here and then forgotten about me. Maybe they're hoping that the chanting will turn my brain to-. My mind to mush? Ghosts tend to fade without a focus. But… This place is so different from Earth that I can't assume that the same conditions apply here.

What am I actually going to do? My rings are in Hell… Unless Mr Excalibris destroyed them. Which… Eh, I was sort of attached to them, but a more modern replacement would actually be superior to both of them. I'm more annoyed about losing my lantern, because that was Alan's. The armour's aoh… Shit. Unless Mr Cassidy or Mr Free are really quick on their feet, I just lost the Hellblazer, the Ace of Winchesters and the Sword of the Fallen. Quite possibly to Mr Excalibris. I mean… It doesn't… Really matter if the Host get them. Does it? The Ace back-hacks theurgy to destroy demons and they don't need that work-around. The Hellblazer… That will enable them to discover that other focuses work and how they work, but it only really disrupts theurgy and the angels are pretty much the only ones who use theurgy.

How did Mr Excalibris counter Harm?

It sounded like he was chanting from Genesis. The very first bit. Where God forms the Earth from the formless void.

Ah.

So the Great Void isn't so much inherently anti-Creation as it is pre-Creation. And Mr Excalibris can wire it into the rest. If Harm survived that, I'm sure that he'll be disappointed. But he didn't convert the whole of it, just what was immediately around him. A time thing? A power consumption thing? A power flow thing? Don't know.

And someone who isn't me is stuck carting around the Sword of the Fallen. Again, I'm not sure that the Host would benefit from it. If they want to kill a demon they've got theurgy. The only problem might come if they decide to shank other pantheons… But it doesn't add much that they can't do with theurgy. And Zauriel said that they didn't really care about that sort of thing back while he was still playing for the Silver City. The absolute worst thing there would be if someone worked out how to reconstitute the Second and Third of the Fallen. Or… Would it? In Hellblazer, it was strongly implied that they were dispatched to keep the First too occupied, but with them gone he just went back to doing what he was doing when they were still there. And it's not as if they'd be better at cooperation with just two of them than when there were three of them.

…

I hope Mr Cassidy is alright. I mean, him and everyone else, it's just that he's the one I saw go down while being a demon in close proximity to an angel. Not that I can do anything about it, but I suspect that the only reason he was in Labyrinth rather than anywhere else in Hell was to help me.

And out of nowhere I'm reminded of the scene in Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey where they're falling into Hell. They scream for a while, then realise that nothing is going to happen and stop. And then, for want of anything better to do, start again.

Am I still enlightened? My desires… Yep, still all lined up, even if I don't really have any idea how to apply them in my new state. Nice to know that how I was thinking wasn't a product purely of the orange light.

I mentally and entirely metaphorically exhale.

I'm literally stuck here until some angel or other remembers I exist and flies over here, aren't I?

Excuse me, God. It's me, P-.

Clouds… Part. Behind them, some way away, there's a… Light? And just in front of that… Ah, more Bill and Ted. A humanoid shape on the seat, the whole thing so sharply illuminated that I can't make out any details. And we have movement. Without any sense of scale I can't tell how fast I'm going or how big what I'm moving towards is, but at least it's something.

Huh. Alright, this is about to get serious and I literally don't have a brain any longer. I may not get another chance to test this. Can I say my name here? Heh, I'm actually a little nervous about it. It's been a year and a half, after all.

"Penitent soul."

The voice comes from everywhere. Though I can't tell whether that's because I have no ears and am hearing it through some sort of mystical earphones, or because it literally is coming from everywhere. I'm getting closer to the hackneyed throne and… The impression I'm getting is that the figure sitting on it is about five metres tall. Inasmuch as that means anything.

Am I thinking at the Mind of God? Can you hear me?

"You have been brought here-"

Against my will, yes. I should be in Erebos right now.

"-because your particular sins have caused great problems for Creation as a whole."

Can you hear me? I don't seem to be able to ignore you, but you're not going to get much out of this if we can't have a dialogue. And not a 'you're so clever, Socrates' dialogue. I want to know what the heck is going on. And how the heck has anything I've done been problematic for the structure of Creation?

"By removing a fruit from the Garden of Eden, you have risked unbinding the link between the Dream and Earth. And worse, between the Source and the Earth."

…

Huh.

"I will explain matters to you so that you can properly repent before being sent to judgement."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Z-E-R-O

27th December
Fucking fucking fucking…

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

A little way to my right I spot a fisherwoman as she notices me and stops collecting her crab pots in favour of staring at me. Hers isn't the only boat around, even at this hour… Whatever hour it is, but I suppose that the irregular nature of my approach warranted a second look.

Stroke. Stroke.

Lucky that my muscles run off generator power…

A moment passes as I draw nearer to the shore, and she starts as she finally realises who I am. She calls out… Something in Themysciran Greek. The Amazons and I are both so used to me understanding each them perfectly thanks to the bullshit-magic of power ring translation that it probably hasn't occurred to anyone that I have no idea what anyone not speaking English is saying without it.

I lock my oars in place for a moment, wave, then return to my work.

Stroke. Stroke.

There was a time -and it feels like a long time ago now- when I was cycling back from my job at Gardners Books, and my chain fell off in an area with poor illumination. I couldn't see what I was doing well enough to fix it so I decided to walk home, pushing the bike along with me. An hour or so later, with my goal in sight, my mother got in her car and came looking for me. She offered to give me a lift back the last 300 metres or so but I opted to keep walking instead, preferring to finish the journey-

I pull my oars back inside the boat, stand and jump out into the shallow water. Once I've found my footing I turn and drag the boat up onto Themyscira's beach.

-myself.

I take a moment to look around. The women working on the shore are mostly still at their tasks. I'm pleased to see that it takes a little more than an Act of God's-Immediate-Subordinates to shake the women of Themyscira out of their routine. Or… As a Discordian, should I be displeased? Ah, I can be happy either way. A few look around to watch me -tasks permitting- but these are mostly the old school sort, who know better than to make casual enquiries where someone who has clearly caught the attention of powers greater than himself is concerned.

Right.

Trying as best I can to moderate the chafing effect of saltwater-soaked trousers made for a Greek man with waist far wider than my own, I stride towards the gates of the city proper. I should be safe now, but while being killed by violence probably-

I cast a cautious eye towards Mount Skybreak.

-isn't a significant risk any longer, I am starving to death. I made this body with functioning lungs but with only the same digestive system as Danni has. I can eat and turn the solid material into something useful for my robotic components, but I don't currently have any way to turn it into nutrition for my few remaining organic parts.

Ah, what the heck. I don't have adrenaline any more.

I hoik up the trousers by the waistband and run. Not quite as fast as I can in full power armour, but my robotic legs make me far more agile and the reduced weight gives me faster acceleration. The posture is… Ridiculous, but a nice thing about Themyscira's traditional isolationism is that there aren't any cameras around here.

The small group of guards at the gate start to form a huddle as I approach, the sergeant stepping forwards to hail me.

"Paúe!"

"Yes, that's me!" I lean back slightly, slowing as best I can on the stone paving slabs. "Please tell me that one of you speaks English?"

She narrows her eyes, taking in my dishevelled state and clearly not having the slightest idea who I am. That's rather the drawback of costumes, I suppose. I had thought that my tattoos might do, but I suppose that I wasn't in the habit of walking about naked.

She turns her head slightly away, keeping me in full view while saying something to one of her-.

One of the other guards blinks, her eyes widening in astonishment. "Phoinos lamptḗr?"

Okay, that… Sounded like 'lantern'. I smile politely and nod, while the sergeant frowns in disbelief. The one who recognised me nods emphatically, before saying… Something. The sergeant snorts in amusement before returning her full attention to me and gesturing to me with her right hand. At least her posture is a little more relaxed now. And she says… Something I don't understand, and points to the gate. I think I caught the word 'princess'… Maybe?

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you just said. Can I-" I take a few hopeful steps closer. "-go in?"

She says… Something else, but quietly. I think that she's spotted the communication problem as well. She steps out of the way, and makes a waving motion from me to the gate. A couple of her soldiers march ahead, but as I resume my run I swiftly bypass them. They shout… Something… I'm going to get my rings to replay this whole thing once I get them back. I hear them picking up the pace behind me, but they're far too slow to overtake me.

Okay, south-eastern portion of the city… Main boulevard there. Surprised faces look around in astonishment as I dash past. But where am I heading? Amusingly, Baroness von Gunther's laboratory is the closest point of interest. But… Eugh… Probably not anything there I could use. The inner city is my best bet, but… Iola and Tekla live relatively close to here and they both speak reasonable English. Would they be..? Home..?

Probably. Those Amazons who have taken the maternal plunge are rather getting babied themselves by their extended families. It's early morning, so… Yes, I'll take the chance.

I slow slightly and turn into a courtyard, briefly taking my right hand off my waistband to wave at a woman hanging her washing out. I get a decidedly appraising look before she waves back. I'd dance my pecs for her but this isn't really the time. Right, up the steps and knock on the doo-.

I hear loud and unhappy baby noises as I awkwardly stand and wait for whoever is inside to answer. They told me that Elpida is.. usually fairly even-tempered, but I've always associated babies with outbursts of random screeching and I'm mildly pleased to be being proven right. Even if the timing is a little inconvenient. Something in Greek gets shouted, probably the equivalent of 'come in' or 'it's open', but… I don't know that for certain.

I knock again, trying to indicate with the lightness of the force I employ that whoever is inside should feel free to prioritise the child. The disgruntled gurgles continue as heavy footsteps come closer, the door being jerked away as… A frustrated and tired looking Iola opens the door in her perizoma and.. nothing else, Elpida grumbling as she finally starts nursing from her fama's left breast.

I close my eyes. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you -hello Elpida!- but I was wondering if I could borrow… Tekla for an hour? I need someone who can speak English."

"Pav-? Ah, Tekla is on duty. I thought that you were staying in the palace?"

"I was. Things… Happened, I ended up losing my equipment…"

"And your clothes."

"Yes. I got lent these by a guy called Alexios… I'll… Take them back when I… Get my own clothes back…"

She chuckles exhaustedly. "This is the life of a hero: running around in a another man's trousers."

"It's been a very trying couple of days."

I hear her move away from the door. "Come in. You can borrow one of my dresses. Or a piece of rope to tie those trousers up. And then Elpida and I can come with you. Perhaps the journey will stop her crying."

"Thank you."

"And open your eyes. I am sure that I have nothing which you have not seen before."