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

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
12:00 GMT -3

I sit on the toilet while my filaments run outwards through the house in search of the alarm controls. Can't scan properly but at least the filaments aren't being directly blocked. Hm. Don't think I've ever been in a toilet inside a private residence in South America before. I remember reading with some horror that standard Brazilian practice involves putting used paper in a bin at the side of the toilet, but fortunately Mister Schreiber's house appears to have been plumbed in European fashion. There is a bin, but it clearly doesn't contain excrement-coated paper and the toilet outflow is easily wide enough to accommodate the probable load.

Oh, for goodness sake. How bored am I?

I tap my own Bleed fracture pulse communicator. "Orange Lantern to Rocket."

"You inside?"

"Yep, no problem." I let the images from my filaments filter into my consciousness. "The place looks like a house. No sign of Nazi memorabilia. Decorations… There are a couple of paintings… I think they're landscapes of places in Germany."

"Nazi places?"

"No, not really. Pastoral scenes. I suppose… They're the sort of things a Nazi utopianist might own, but nothing really jumps out at me as saying 'Nazi'." I'm not an expert on Hitler's art, but I did take a look at a few pieces after Lex showed me his. I'm reasonably confident that Hitler didn't paint these. Schreiber might have. I don't know whether or not he shared his predecessor's difficulties.

Ah, there we go.

"I've got the alarm." I stand and open the door into the hallway, taking a magic-sensitive rune stone out of a pouch. "Would you mind checking in with the rest of our team mates?"

"You want me to tell them who we found?"

Hm. "Not.. yet. Just because he's a clone of Adolf Hitler doesn't mean that he's a bad person."

"Yeah, I got that. But we're looking for proof the Kriegers were here, right? Who else would do something like this?"

"Um. Mengele? Someone else from Thule?" I hold the stone out in front of me. Wonder if we can hook one of these up to something that looks like a PKE meter? I mean, these are fine for an actual magic user but I just feel so analogue… "Or any number of nutty super scientists who wanted to be able to say they were the ones who resurrected Hitler."

"Just when you think they couldn't get any lower."

"Lower would be killing him when they realised that they didn't exactly have the Führer on their hands. Or trying to make them relive Hitler's life." The stone is picking up the house's protective spells but there's nothing particularly intense just yet. "He's well adjusted enough to have a family and a job. Whoever did it could have done much worse."

"You think Hitler's well adjusted?"

"I think Helmut Schreiber is well adjusted. Hitler, less so."

There's a pause. "Robin, Tula and Miss Martian say they tracked down Katrina Krieger. No sign of Wolf or Albrecht."

I head towards the stairs. "Are they planning to keep watching her?"

"No, they took her down already."

I frown as I head up to the first floor. "Why? We'd have had a far better chance of learning from her if she was left out in the wild."

"She was testing some new chemical mix on homeless people."

I nod my head to the side. "Let them off, then. They alright?"

"They didn't say anything about getting injured, so probably."

"How about the oth-. Huh."

"What?"

"The floor isn't squeaking. Natural timber, varnished and uncarpeted. The colour scheme and layout just feel… Nice. And the open structure is designed to allow the air to flow around to keep the temperatures down."

"So?"

"I read that Hitler didn't go into architecture because his maths grades weren't high enough."

"You think Schreiber designed the place himself?"

"Probably."

"You think he'll know you were there?"

I look down at the floor. "I'm not leaving footprints, I'm not moving anything, no chemicals on my body can escape my environmental shield, if I go through a door I can put it back exactly how it was… Unless there's some sort of magic architect sense I don't know about I think it should be alright."

"If he got taught by Wolf…"

I push open a door. A child's bedroom. Looks like one of the older girls likes football. "While it's not impossible, the simplest sort of ward would trigger an alert as soon as I -or anyone else- crossed the threshold. Zatanna said that as far as she could tell it was all passive."

"Yeah, but she's fifteen. Krieger's a hundred and thirty."

Nothing in the master bedroom. "But he had to learn from first principles. Zatanna had access to well written textbooks from early childhood." And more since we started working on how to beat Nabu. "Anyway, if Mister Schreiber had spent enough time with him to get that good, he'd have to be pretty dim not to have picked up on Krieger's political affiliations. You can't… Self study enough in the time he's had to get as good as he'd have to be to pull off a ward that subtle."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure." A fringe benefit of trying to work out how skilled Nabu is. His showings against Klarion really have been less good than I was expecting, given how capable he's supposed to be. Can't watch him enough of the time to know whether or not he was just having off-days… "Nothing magic in here. Moving on."

"Superboy's team finished talking to the guys who attacked the Watchtower."

"Get anything new?" I'm guessing 'no'. The Russian President isn't exactly against the far right, but he is very much against Nazis. I'm a little surprised that he didn't just have them all executed, actually. Maybe I've been being unfair to the Russian justice system.

"No, but the Russian police gave them the names of a few people they're watching. They're planning on going to a rally tonight, see if anyone says anything."

It's kind of weak, but he must have some kind of contact in that part of the world. Heh, working with Russians. If only the Führer knew.

"I didn't know he spoke Russian."

"He actually speaks a lot of languages. Did they say what time exactly?"

"No. Why?"

"They're six hours ahead of us, so tonight is any time now."

"Message just said 'tonight'."

"Mm, okay. Nothing upstairs. I'm going to check his office, then plant the stones and head back."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
13:43 GMT -3

"…activist for the Social Democratic Party." Zatanna hesitates for a moment. "I wasn't sure if that was a right wing party or not. I didn't realise until we started talking how little I actually know about Brazil."

I shrug. "They're less right wing than the Republican Party. They're more right wing than Brazil's other main party, but it certainly isn't a warning sign."

She nods. "He joined them right out of college at twenty two and he's been with them since. In twenty oh three he reduced his hours so he could work on a master's degree and he finished that in twenty oh five. Apparently he's quite well known in Brazilian architecture circles."

Raquel glances back from the screen for a moment. "Did they say anything bad about him?"

"Um… He talked around a few things. I don't know if he believed me when I said that we didn't think.. Helmut had done anything." She shrugs. "The worst he said was that he wasn't all that great with people outside of work settings, but then he immediately said he got much better after getting together with Daiane."

"Any mention of anyone who might be the Kriegers?"

"No, but I had to be careful what I said. He's never met Mister Schreiber's parents… Or any family apart from his wife and their kids. And he couldn't remember him ever mentioning them."

"Did he show any signs of having been altered himself?"

She shakes her head. "Not so far as I could tell."

Huh. Okay then. He's been there for seventeen years. If he's a little further along the autistic spectrum than most people it might just not have occurred to him to talk about the rest of his family for that long. Or he might have done and the one person who works with him who Zatanna spoke to just happened not to remember it. "I don't suppose you used a spell to encourage him to answer openly and honestly, did you?"

"No." She looks uncomfortable. "Was.. I.. supposed to?"

"It might have been helpful. Something subtle and short term. Just a mystically enhanced memory jog. But if I'd wanted you to do something like that I should have been clear about it from the offset."

"He's back." The three of us look around to Raquel, who points at the screen as the car pulls in.

Zatanna and I lean in a little closer. Ring? "His wife and their children are still at the park."

Canis snorts, leaning over us. "Are we killing him or not?"

"Not." / "Not." / "We're not killing anyone."

Zatanna blinks, and looks at Raquel and I a little uncomfortably for our briefer answers.

"Why not?"

What explanation would work best for an Apokoliptian? "Canis… What would killing him get us?"

"It would let our ultimate foe know that we are in pursuit, building both his fear and anticipation." "It would give him the opportunity to prepare, creating a greater challenge."

"Unless he's not in contact any longer and doesn't care about what's happening here."

Canis nods. "That is a concern. Perhaps we could simply broadcast our acts? I could display his remains to best advantage."

Raquel blanches. "Are you outta your mind!?"

He just looks slightly puzzled.

"Canis, this isn't Apokolips. We're here to achieve a very limited objective while at the same time not creating difficulty for our superiors. Killing a Brazilian citizen without an exceptionally good reason would create such a difficulty."

He nods. "Because you cannot be sure if someone of significance favours him in ignorance of his true nature. And you do not wish to challenge your elders by assuming a right which belongs to them alone."

…

"Okay. Let's go with that." He nods. Handling him is going to be interesting. He seems willing, but then so was Power Boy and look how well that turned out. "Our mentors want the world run a certain way, and having us kill people at will works against that. The less impact we can have outside our objective, the better."

"On Apokolips, we aim for the greatest impact in victory." His right hand goes to his chin. "But in art… Clarity of communication is more important than intensity."

"You wouldn't just build a giant paint bomb and set it off over a city."

He nods. "I see. Interesting."

Zatanna scoots a little further away from him.

Raquel turns from Canis to me. "So what are we doing about Schreiber?"

I watch as he opens his front door and heads inside. "Two basic options. I think we've concluded as much as we can that he isn't knowingly working with the Kriegers. He's been in cover for too long and too well. So, we either keep watching or we talk to the man directly."

Raquel tries to zoom in on one of the windows. "Some of us have school tomorrow."

Canis nods. "This indolence bores me."

"We could.. give it a few hours..?"

"Not going to get a better time than now. Okay." Who do I take with me? I'm not really expecting to learn much… So it doesn't matter all that much. "Rocket, with me please. Zatanna, Canis, you're on lookout duty."

Raquel stands, stretching out with her hands making a bridge above her head. "Finally."

"Remember Batman's lecture: watch his hands-."

"And his eyes for unconscious tells." She gives me a mildly confrontational stare, as if I was accusing her of sleeping through the lecture. Her not having been there for Major Adams' lecture last year where a couple of our team mates nearly did.

"We'll be coming down vertically into his front garden. If he's watching he'll know we're coming, but the wall will block the view of the people outside. I'll transition us up, then you're under your own power."

"I gaht it, let's go already."

I tag her with a filament and the room's gone, replaced once more by sky and cloud. "Follow me, please."

I dial down my glow and descend, not at anything like full speed or even like terminal velocity. Just fast enough that anyone watching in my general direction might just think they were seeing things. I drop feet first in the direction of the steadily growing garden while a little way behind me Raquel orientates herself towards the ground and heads after me face forwards. I touch down perhaps ten seconds later and watch as she turns her dive into a swoop before getting her feet back under her. We give it a moment but there's no apparent reaction from the house. She looks at me, I nod, and together we walk towards the front door.

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
13:47 GMT -3

"Hitler didn't have super powers, right?"

Since I know she doesn't speak Portuguese, I extend a filament to Raquel. "Not so far as anyone has been able to deduce with any certainty."

"No mass hypnosis or anything?"

"No, just good oratorical technique and the opportunity to use it." I press the doorbell. "From what I understand, he was pretty close to having the Thule Society blacklisted in order to reinforce his conservative Christian credentials. On my homeworld he actually did."

"What was the difference here?"

"This world has magic. Krieger was able to produce observable results, he spoke the right nationalistic, racialistic language. As I understand it, Hitler was never really comfortable either with magic or with relying on one man for their defence against Allied superheroes." I hear footsteps on the far side of the door. "He was rather fond of Captain Nazi, though."

"No surprise there-."

The door opens and Helmut Schreiber blinks at us in surprise.

I smile. "Mister Schreiber. A pleasure to meet you, sir." This close, seeing his desires is easy. It seems that he forgot his camera and returned home to pick it up. None of his other desires seem particularly out of place for a man who is exactly what he seems to be.

He looks me over once more, then spares a moment to do the same to Raquel. "You are the-" Here we go, Cake Man. "-Orange Lantern, yes?"

I nod. "Yes, sir."

He immediately holds out his right hand, a beatific look appearing on his face. "Thank you." I take his hand in my right only for him to grab hold with his left as well. "From the bottom of my heart, thank you. The day on which my children disappeared was the worst in my life." Oh. "If not for young superheroes like yourself I might never have seen them again." Now I'm starting to feel bad for what I'm about to do. "I am certain that my wife would like to speak with you as well. Do you have the time to accompany me to the local park?"

"I'm.. sorry, Mister Schreiber, but I'm afraid that we need to speak with you."

"Oh." He steps back from the door. "Then, come in, please."

I bow my head slightly. "Thank you." Then I walk inside.

"And you, Miss… I recognise you, but I don't remember your name."

"Call me Rocket."

Mister Schreiber ushers her inside before leading the way into his house. "Yes, my eldest daughter has a picture of you on her wall. So many of America's superheroes are white. I was pleased to find one who is a brown girl." I cringe slightly, but I don't think Raquel does. "It is good for them to have more adventurous role models."

"Happy to help."

"Were you involved in fighting that.. devil Klarion as well?"

"No, just.. tried to help out in my home town."

"I am sure they were very grateful. The living room is through here."

I make a point of looking around the room. I was here a little over an hour ago, of course, but if he's got his progenitor's pride he'll like that I'm showing appreciation-. No, he would anyway. I need to not do that.

He gestures to the settee before taking the chair opposite himself. "So… How can I help you?"

"To start with-" I take photographs of Wolf and Albrecht Krieger out of subspace and pass them over to him. No Nazi insignia, just headshots. "-do you recognise either of these men?"

He looks them over carefully, focusing more on Wolf than his younger brother. "No… No, I don't think I do." He passes them back to me. "Should I?"

"Quite possibly not. Mister Schreiber, do you have any interest in the occult?"

"I know the Church says that… Magic is not inherently evil, but… No. I do not like it."

"May I assume that your wife feels the same way?"

He thinks for a moment, then gives his head a small shake. "I don't know. I don't think we've ever talked about it. I have never seen any sign that she is. Why are you asking about that?"

"There are a number of what look like defensive spells placed on this house and on your.. personal history. Normally, during the course of an investigation I can-" I raise my left hand slightly. "-access computer databases to access information. I can't find anything on you."

He looks a little relieved. "That doesn't mean they were disappeared by magic. I love my country, but I'll be the first to admit that our infrastructure is not as reliable as it should be."

"Mister Schreiber, I brought a magic user with me to check. There's some fairly impressive spell work around here."

He frowns, shifting in place uncomfortably. "Do you think it was the builders? Should I call for an exorcist?"

Nothing in his reactions suggests that his response is anything other than completely genuine. "I doubt that anyone who knew enough about magic to do this would be working in conventional construction. And you shouldn't need to have them removed, though if you want to there's no reason not to. Mister Schreiber, may I ask about your parents?"

I didn't see pictures of anyone parental looking with a younger Mister Schreiber when I looked around earlier. If he was placed with a Nazi approved couple…

"I grew up in an orphanage run by the Church. Beyond the fact that they were.. probably ethnic Germans I have no idea who my parents were."

"I'm sorry. I realise that this is uncomfortable, but I need to know."

"Why?" He risks a small smile. "Do I have a relation I have never met who needs a kidney?"

"No. I'm afraid it's worse than that. I have reason to believe that you are a clone, a genetic duplicate of another Human."

He gives a nervous laugh. "That seems a little far-fetched."

"It does, but…" I create a construct. "This is your genetic code. I don't have a copy of the genes of the man I believe you are a clone of, but this is the code of a man named Leo Raubal Junior and this is the code of William Stuart-Houston. Not perfect matches, but close enough to indicate a genetic relationship."

"That's.. interesting, but I am afraid that those names don't mean anything to me. Do they want to meet with me? I have long thought it would be nice for my children to meet my side of the family."

I suppose… He does have living relatives…

"Those particular people are dead, but… There's no particular reason why you couldn't meet up with their descendants." He nods, oddly cheered by the news. "Mister Schreiber, there's no easy way to say this. But I have reason to believe that you are a clone of Adolf Hitler."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
13:52 GMT -3

"I am sorry, I think I misheard you."

"I think you're a clone of Adolf Hitler. These pictures?" I hold them out again. "Albrecht Krieger, better known as Captain Nazi, and his brother Wolf. Wolf Krieger was head of the Thule Society during the Second World War. Together, they dodged the Allies and various Nazi-hunters after the war was over and narrowly escaped the Justice League at the end of last year. According to our information they relocated to Brazil after their attempt to integrate into the United States' right wing community during the sixties failed."

Mister Schreiber is frowning. "That may well be, but it doesn't mean that I am… Him."

"How old are you?"

"Well, ah-. I'm not sure." He shrugs. "Thirty nine. We celebrated my birthday last month."

"Agents working for the Brazilian interior ministry attacked his encampment in nineteen seventy two. It was a little way outside Caçador. Where was it you grew up?"

"Caçador."

"I didn't know that until you told me, but the fight with the Nazis was national news at the time. It should be easy for you to confirm it. Do you know who brought you to the orphanage? There should be a name on the paperwork?"

"No. No. I.. saw the paperwork when I turned eighteen. Sister Maria said that she thought I might have been the son of leftists the police killed. She told me not to look into it."

"Good advice."

"But how do you know that she is wrong?" He stands and starts pacing, hands and arms in constant motion. "I am not a murderer!"

"I know you're not. Mister Schreiber, you're your own man. My closest friend is a clone. I'm talking to you because Wolf Krieger got free recently and I'm worried that-"

"No."

"-he might come looking for you. I'd like to offer you and your family my protection until-"

He stops, looking away from me. "This is..."

"-he's apprehended. We're following up several leads-."

"Get out."

"Mister Schreiber?" I generate a construct image of Adolf Hitler at his age. "I realise that this is a shock, but I don't think-."

He turns, face red and eyes watering. "Get out of my house, you-" He takes in the construct as I have it mirror his body language. "-lunatic! I am not Hitler!" He takes several deep breaths and I can tell that his heart is racing. "I am not!"

"Okay." I stand. "Thank you for your time. If you see either-."

"I'm not Hitler." He jabs his right forefinger at the construct. "I'm not."

I nod as Raquel gets up to follow me. "No." I remove the construct. "We'll show ourselves out."

His eyes drop to the floor and he squeezes them shut for several seconds as I head for the door. "I am not a Nazi."

Ring, what language was he speaking?

He began with German, then switched to Portuguese.

He changed to his first language under stress? Hm. Makes sense. Not sure why he started with German.

Raquel closes the front door behind us. "That coulda gone better. What now?"

"Now, we keep watch and hope nothing else happens. If we're fortunate, one of the other teams will locate the Kriegers and call in the League without troubling Mister Schreiber any further."

She stops, taking hold of my right arm in her left hand. "What are we gonna say about him?"

"I'd suggest… A full verbal report to Batman -in private- and that we leave out the specifics of his heritage in our written report."

"And we're doing that because..?"

"The Justice League are a UN sponsored organisation. If it goes in the written report-."

"That gets passed on to the UN." She thinks for a moment. "But Schreiber hasn't done anything."

"No, but I don't see them leaving him alone. And if word ever got out…"

She seems to agree. "So what do we do now?"

I take a look around the front garden. Looks nice, inasmuch as I'm able to judge. Well looked after. "Check in with the others, then… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to check up on the Caçador site. At the very least we could get Zatanna something she could use as a magic focus." I tap my communicator. "Orange Lantern to Superboy. Any news?"

"He's here. He met up with one of the local leaders. We're following him now."

Raquel and I stare at each other, eyes widening slightly.

"Have you called in the League?"

"The League would take too long to get here and I haven't seen Captain Nazi yet. Until we're sure they're staying here I wanna keep watching."

Loath as I am to say it… "Nabu fought Wolf during the Second World War. He'd probably be willing to teleport a League force in."

"Mom said no one's seen him since yesterday."

Aah. "Okay. I've still got the binding chains I used on-." I cut off as I hear shouting in the background. "Superb-?"

"Call you back!"

The line goes dead.

"At least we know where Wolf is." I tap my communicator again. "Zatanna, Canis, get ready to move-."

"No!"

Mister Schreiber's voice! The heck-?! I'm already moving through the air towards the front door, Raquel a fraction of a second behind me! I bulldoze the door out of its frame and fly inside the house and Mister Schreiber frantically backs out of the living room.

"That the Führer would be reborn in the body-"

I stop, railgun forming and Mageslayers loading.

"-of a coward."

Spell Eater temperature critical.

Wolf Krieger steps out from the living room and taps the butt of his spear on the floor.

"Stop."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
13:56 GMT -3

My body seizes up. Feels a little different to last time.

"And I must deny you your gun."

My construct railgun evaporates. Last time he just had me point it away from him. Can I-? Ring, swap current Spell Eater.

Spell Eater replaced.

Railgun!

Spell Eater temperature critical.

No! Damn it! How much power is he using?

Raquel dives past me, aiming at Wolf Krieger's chest. His eyes widen slightly and he takes a half-step backwards, bringing the Spear of Destiny around into a guard position. "Whenever you are-" Raquel closes the distance and he swings his weapon. The blade misses and the impact of the haft is absorbed by her kinetic belt. "-ready-" She hits and he's knocked back, though nothing like as much as a normal man would have been. "-A-Albrecht!"

"I'mma kick your nasty Nazi-!"

Albrecht shoots through the air from the living room and smashes his right fist down onto the top of Raquel's head. The belt absorbs most of the impact but she still slams into the floor. Wolf grimaces slightly before grabbing Mister Schreiber and roughly shoving him towards me. "Albrecht, kill the negro bitch while I restore the Führer to life. You." He strikes the butt of his spear on the floor again. "Back."

I find myself floating back out of the front door, the clearly terrified Mister Schreiber pushed after me. Albrecht stamps on Raquel's neck as Wolf studies me. "It is strange, you know? Even this close, my arcane senses try to tell me that you are not there. How have you achieved this marvellous thing?" I say nothing. "You may speak."

"W..? Why are you here? Why are you doing this?"

Wolf scowls at Mister Schreiber. "I did not mean you, you failed abortion. Ninety four attempts at creating a genetic duplicate of the Führer and you were the only one who lived."

"Why bother? I've seen portals to hell before. You must be capable of opening one without Mister Schreiber's help."

"Schreiber?" Wolf glances at him. "Is that what you call yourself? No matter. Yes, I could open a portal to hell, but how does that benefit me? How would I find one soul amongst the untold billions contained therein? But here! Here I have a living link to the Führer. A way to bind him to the material plane."

"That doesn't explain why. This isn't nineteen thirties Germany! Adolf Hitler is the most hated man in history! I don't care how charismatic he is, there's no way he'll be able to lead anyone!"

"After seventy years in hell? I doubt that he would be capable of doing so anyway. No, for all his virtues as a leader, I doubt that his mind remains in one piece after the tortures of hell."

"That's a surprisingly rational thing for you to say. Tell you what, just for that I'll give you a five minute head start."

"Ah, if only he had listened to me and abandoned that Christian weakness. But, by bringing back the withered soul of the Führer I can expunge Schreiber's soul. And then, I can use this body as a channel for the earthly ideal of fascism. I can build up a new spirit with what is left of Adolf Hitler at the core! For who better embodies the ideal of fascism than Adolf Hitler? Yes. From these base materials I shall forge a new god for the pure Aryan race! That is why I put up with those Slavic scum. Even they can add to the fuel of my ritual, though I doubt they will benefit much from it."

"And… I'm still alive… Because?"

"You have useful knowledge, and you are of European origin. When my new god is born, perhaps he will have a use for you. Perhaps his divine majesty will convert you. Or perhaps-" He raises the Spear of Destiny slightly. "-he will order me to convert you with the Spear. Or kill you out of hand. Who can say?"

"One of my great grandparents was Rom."

"Oh." He thinks for a moment. "That is not ideal. But… Three generations? It will be for the God-Führer to decide."

"So how come I'm not Nazified already? Green Lantern and The Flash made it clear that the mind control was pretty quick back during World War Two."

"I'm not as young as I was, and I have a smaller area of control to work with. Ah, the spirit of fascism! A marvellous source of strength! You know, I actually wept when the Kaiser abdicated." He shakes his head. "Such a young fool. Now-" He clenches his left hand into a fist, causing Mister Schreiber to rise helplessly into the air. "-hold still while I burn out your miserable little soul, yes?"

"Bastard fascist!"

"Portuguese." Wolf looks like he's swallowed something sour. "Could they not have sent you to a decent German-?"

The front of the house explodes as Albrecht is sent flying through the outer wall and digs a furrow across the grass before stopping in a heap! Brick blasts in all directions and Wolf is forced to duck as chunks of breeze block rain down on him.

"This 'negro bitch' just kicked your brother's ass." Raquel floats out of the hole. "You know what happens if you keep punching someone who absorbs kinetic energy?"

"Albrecht!"

I flex my right hand. Not quite fully under my own control yet, but…

Ring, swap Spell Eater.

Spell Eater replaced.

"You won't live long enough to face the God-Führer's wrath!" Raquel convulses. "Stop breathing."

No time for a railgun. The ring on my left hand shines for a second before the destructive bolt blasts out and strikes Wolf in the chest! "Ghaagh!" Finally he collapses!

"My brother!" Albrecht lunges through the air and punchesGUHHH!

Huh…

Wha..?

No… Wholeness Rightly Assumed!

Spell Eater temperature critical.

"I am not!" I push myself up to see Mister Schreiber stamp on Wolf's right hand as he reaches out to grab the Spear of Destiny from where it fell. "A fucking!" He grabs the Spear himself. "NAZI!" He shoves the Spear downwards blade first, right into Wolf's chest.

Immediately the control effect cuts off. Raquel falls to the floor, gasping for air. I rise, forming railguns and taking aim-

"You killed my brother! I will rip you apart!"

-at Albrecht. I open fire.

"Agh!"

I have no idea whether his power is arcane, metahuman or alchemical.

"Arrraaaaagh!"

So I just hit him with everything. Regular rounds, crumblers and mageslayers. On the off-chance I even use a couple of the angel feather fragment tipped ones John designed.

Normal Justice League rules about using lethal force don't apply to people sentenced to death at Nuremberg. The Germans insisted.

"Grawgwgwgwgwgwgwg…"

His chest thoroughly ruined, I put the barrels of my railguns directly over his eyes and fire once more.

"Witch! Bastard Nazi!" Mister Schreiber pulls the Spear free and stabs Wolf again and again. As I watch, whatever spells held his aging carcass together all this time fail. He doesn't decay completely, but he does take on the appearance of someone slightly mummified, like a climber who died too far up for bacteria to live and who was then dried out by the elements. Mister Schreiber then staggers back, breathing hard, Spear held inexpertly in a two handed grip. "Try taking my soul now!"

I give what's left of Albrecht a moment to see if he's getting back up. One of the possible sources of his power we brainstormed was some sort of improved Danner Formula. Abednego was part of the American eugenics movement and it wasn't impossible that he met Wolf and Albrecht's father… No, looks like he's staying dead. I walk over to Raquel and help her up.

"You alright?" She nods, taking in the bloody scene. "Okay. You get your breath back. I'll call Batman."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
16:14 GMT -5

The elderly man in a grey tweed suit pulls back the cloth covering the bier's occupant. He doesn't flinch, but there is a slight inhalation at the sight of the level of damage done.

"…going on about how he's 'the might of zhe vaterland' and 'zhe embodiment of fascist ideology' and how members of 'zhe lesser races are not fit to lick his boot leather'…"

I glance back at Raquel as she recounts events to Wallace while surreptitiously slipping a rune stone out of my waist pouch. If that was the first time she'd seen a body she seems to be handling it pretty well. The rest of the team stands in huddles of their respective demigroups. No one came back with more than minor injuries and every group except mine has handed someone over to the police.

"…I'm thinking 'you keep stamping and not paying any attention'…"

The man checking the corpses over looks over to our hosts. "I will need to touch..?"

The group -consisting of representatives from the legal, defence and political sections of both the German and Israeli UN missions- exchange a few quiet words, then there's a nodding of heads. The man who appears to be leading the group -the German Deputy Political Director, a man named Klaus Wernholt- nods to the examiner more emphatically. "Whatever you need to do. Make completely certain."

The examiner nods back before returning his attention to the corpse and reaching out with both hands. He makes the lightest contact with his fingertips and then stills himself and closes his eyes. A moment later my stone lights up very slightly. So, maybe a minor wizard, more likely a self taught parapsychic. I suppose I should be impressed that they've got one on staff at all. Or that he's lived to this sort of age. Usually the constant spiritual contact with the world wears them down well before this point.

"…used his own energy to throw him straight through the wall, and I'm all like…"

Batman will want a word or two with us… With me later, but for now he is content with leaving us to clear up the mess we created. Never quite taking my eyes off the examination I shuffle over to where Kaldur stands. His eyes flick to me momentarily as an acknowledgement. "What sort of split do you think is fair?"

Another glance, as if he doesn't want to further disrupt the quiet. "I am not certain what you mean."

"The current bounty on Albrecht Krieger is thirty million euros, and the one on Wolf Krieger is twelve million." He blinks. "Technically, only Kon's team and mine were directly involved, but since it was a whole team activity I think it would be fairest to do an even split on Albrecht's bounty. That's one point eight seven five million euros each, or about two point seven million dollars."

"I had not realised that such a bounty existed."

"Germany put up about half. Israel and Russia paid most of the rest. The Kriegers were the last two significant Second World War era war criminals left in the wild. Between them, they killed thousands of people personally. Far more than that died due to their strategic impact." I give him a moment to process that. "Obviously the cash makes no difference to me, but that sort of thing would pay for a college degree in a good college for our American colleagues. Or a house. Or a period of long term illness."

He doesn't immediately respond. "And what of Wolf?"

"The man who… Finished him, would be due a cut as well. For simplicity's sake it might be better to just give him the whole thing." I hesitate. "I.. don't think telling anyone here who-."

"On that we are in agreement."

The elderly man folds the sheet back over Albrecht before walking over to the bier supporting the mummified remains of Wolf.

"It might be worth asking if M'gann could suppress the memory for him. Not.. erase it, just make it a bit less-."

"It is them." The elderly man carefully wipes drying blood and mucus from his hands with a wet wipe before dropping it into a biological agent bin. "I will confirm that these are indeed the mortal remains of the men known as Wolf and Albrecht Krieger." He looks over to our hosts once more. They're not quite smiling, but there's an air of relief about the gathering. "You have my recommendations for dealing with the remains?"

Mister Wernholt steps forward to shake his hand. "Yes. Thank you for your help."

"Don't make a habit of asking me to do this, Klaus. I do not want what life is left to me blighted by these pictures." The elderly man holds his gaze for a moment before pulling away and heading for the exit.

Mister Wernholt waits until he leaves the room before turning back to his colleagues. "Ladies and gentlemen?" I can hear his accent; he's speaking English. It's really odd when the ring tries to best-fit an English accent to someone speaking a foreign language when I'm used to hearing their speech accented by their own language instead. "Do we accept this testimony, combined with the visual reconstruction provided by Orange Lantern and the verbal testimony of Rocket as a true version of events?"

They nod, some with a simple inclination of the head, others with more enthusiasm.

"Good, thank you." He meets the eyes of the leader of the Israeli delegation. "I imagine that the Chancellor will contact your Prime Minister sometime tomorrow. I will see to the paperwork and the.. remains, myself."

"Thank you." The woman risks a small smile. "Knowing that these men are gone from the world is a relief to all of us."

The Israeli delegation files out, along with most of the other Germans. A couple of medical orderlies move over to start work on the bodies as Mister Wernholt heads over to speak to us.

"On behalf of the Federal Republic of Germany, on behalf of decent Human beings all across the world, I would like to thank all of you for your work today. Now, since you, ah… Many of you have secret identities, we will make a wire transfer of the reward to the Justice League, and.. they can handle it from there."

M'gann looks confused. "Reward?"

I turn my head her way. "Bounty payment. We'll talk about it later." She nods.

"Ah, hey." Raquel briefly raises her right hand and wiggles it a bit. "Captain Nazi was lying, right? He wasn't really the embodiment of fascism or anything."

"He wasn't the embodiment of fascism, but, ah…" He shakes his head. "Oh, it doesn't matter now. He was the embodiment of Germany."

We just sort of stare at him for a few moments.

"Is it that much of a surprise? In America, you have Uncle Sam? During the Second World War he fought as part of the All Star Squadron?" A few nods, including one from me. Not a character I'd really studied, though I think Alan mentioned him in passing. I think I'd find meeting him in person to be a rather trying thing. Don't think he's active at the moment, which does rather go against his established character. "He is the embodiment of the American character, as it was at the time he came into being. Similarly-."

"Wait a second." Richard holds up his right hand. "You're telling me that the embodiment of Germany is a Nazi superhero?"

"They don't age. If no one kills them they can just keep going." He glances back at the shroud-draped outline of Albrecht Krieger. "When Adolf Hitler came to power, his associates in the Thule Society told him of this. He ordered them to find the embodiment of Germany. Probably, he was hoping they would be a Prussian militarist. We don't know exactly. Instead, he found a man named 'Lucky' Hans, working in a puppet theatre in München. He embodied the German spirit as it was in the seventeenth century, poorly organised, cheerful and happy go lucky."

Richard grimaces. "I'll bet Hitler wasn't too pleased."

"I doubt it very much. So, Wolf Krieger informed his leader of this, but promised to him that it could be fixed. Poor Hans was abducted, ritually murdered and… Albrecht Krieger was the result. Hitler had his Aryan superman. Worse, for we Germans, he had a constant connection to our souls."

Raquel narrows her eyes. "You're not saying, that's the reason why the Holocaust-."

Mister Wernholt holds up his hands. "No, no. Of course not. At that time, there were more than enough people sufficiently devoted to the cause to carry out that genocide without the need for magic intervention. It is only since the end of the Second World War that we have felt the baleful effects. There is a tendency in the Human mind to retroactively justify the things you have done, even when you know that they were wrong. It is a form of ego preservation. If you perform a misdeed you can only become a better person by recognising that and resolving to behave differently in future. Now, imagine if there was someone inside your soul, constantly telling you that you were right all along. That the Nazis were powerful and cool, and not the gang of hateful murderers they actually were."

He shakes his head. "There is a reason why Auschwitz is left as it was and not turned into a memorial park. But we grew accustomed to that. We kept needing to do more! I mean, my God! We had brass plaques with the names of Holocaust victims placed across our major cities in nineteen ninety two! We had to mutilate our psyche as a nation just to keep Albrecht Krieger out of our heads!"

"And… Now you don't?"

"No. I mean, the Holocaust was a great evil, but… Speaking for myself as a man in his thirties? Someone whose parents were born in the fifties? It is a historical one. A black mark on our nation's history, but one which has no personal relevance to me. No more than most Americans feel the need to berate themselves over the Trail of Tears."

Raquel crosses her arms across her chest. "Maybe they should."

"If you look in any nation's history, there are any number of things to be ashamed of. Usually, they do not have to be confronted by them every time they turn on the History Channel." He shakes his head. "Constant shame is not a good way to live. If nothing else, because it distracts from the things you are doing wrong now." He comes to a stop, then steps away and motions to the bodies. "These will be cremated, mixed with silver and calcium oxide, exorcised and then scattered widely in secret locations. Let this finally be the end of it."

 

[Mr Zoat]

11th April
20:03 GMT -2

"What do I think?" Sephtian quivers in place. I still don't entirely understand his body language, but it doesn't look like the good kind of quivering to me. "I think that it is the most terrifying arcane object I have ever seen and I will thank you to take it a very long way away from me."

I lift the Spear of Destiny from the props he was using to keep it in the mana field reader. "I can do that. What exactly is it about it that is so terrifying?"

He actually backs away a little as I move away from the equipment. "So much of how magic works… In the wild, is about conceptual connections. It is why we Atlanteans find it far easier to manipulate water than fire and... It is why it is often necessary to have an object precious to a person in order to use curses on them from a great distance." For a moment he stills. "That is not.. quite true, but it is a lie that is not completely inaccurate."

"Okay?"

"That spear-." The shuddering starts again. "It maintains a weak connection to everyone."

I blink. "Everyone?"

He makes a small cupping gesture with his hands. "As far as we were able to identify. I could not test.. people from other planets. I think it can be shielded against, but.. the normal magic interference which prevents what our forebears described as 'scry and die'-" I don't laugh. "-being a practical technique… It does not apply. I.. must tell you. When I.. realised what it could do… I nearly attempted to destroy it."

I frown. "Hey!"

"I am sorry, but I work under a royal warrant. I have responsibilities to Atlantis, and allowing that thing to continue to exist is.. dangerous."

"Okay, so why didn't you?"

For a moment he just stares at me. "What possible technique could I use that would be safe?"

Oh, sugar. "Exactly how strong is this connection? Wolf Krieger was using it to mind control people."

"A mind control spell that triggers automatically within a particular area? Do you..?" There's a sudden squirt of water from his gill slits. "I doubt that you can understand how complex an undertaking that must have been. From the records you provided to me, it was most likely some kind of ward linked to the nations his people controlled. Such a thing could in theory be set to respond only to individuals who posed a threat above a certain level."

"It didn't just detect superheroes?"

"How would you define 'superhero'?"

"How would you define 'threat'? I mean, I know Harold Thompson was able to operate in Germany for years, but I assume that was just because he didn't have super powers."

"It would probably be possible to set a spell to detect a particular type of power, but in general terms the phrase does not have an arcane meaning. At least, not yet. Threat does."

"The spell got Green Lantern once while he wasn't wearing his ring."

"I… It is possible that I am mistaken. I have been struggling to work out how a man with no knowledge of theoretical thaumaturgy could have created such a work… Without the opportunity to examine the spell it is difficult for me to determine exactly how it functioned."

I nod. "And that wouldn't have been possible without the Spear?"

"Not without using enough power to reshape the world. As you know full well, the soul resists outward attempts to change it. But, that is also true of the unshaped magics of the world. Creating a spell requires a magic user to fortify their work against abrasion by the etheric currents all around it."

"Which is why artefacts never really caught on. They need to be refreshed so often it was easier to just cast the spell."

"Not in all cases, but often, yes."

"The mind control spell isn't inherent in the Spear though, right? I'm not risking taking control of you by holding it?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"I may well be the foremost expert on thaumaturgy on this planet, Paul. I certainly have more advanced equipment than any other mortal in position to make such a claim. And I am telling you: I do not think so."

"Oh."

"The spellwork on the Spear of Destiny is like nothing I have ever seen. I deduced its function not by analysing its inner workings but by applying tiny external pressures and observing the output. I do not know what it does in the hands of someone who is.. affected by strange energies as you are. But I can imagine."

I release the spear, letting it float in the water just in front of me. "I could use the Sword of the Fallen on it."

"It might work. Would you risk it?"

"Sugar. Um. Got a suggestion?"

"The Spear seems designed to allow a person to heavily influence the state of the world, the soul of the wielder constantly influencing everyone else in tiny, subtle ways. You could hand it to the most praiseworthy person you know and hope that their influence is a good one. Or you could hide it away and hope that it never comes to light again."

"And this is my choice?"

"I considered trying to make the choice myself. I could not. I know no one so good, and nowhere so remote. You are a good man and you know what you want. It may as well be you as anyone."

Krieger had this for decades and the world didn't convert to fascism. On the other hand, I don't have a world free of his influence to compare it to, other than mine. The population here is smaller… I know that over a large enough population a small change in opinion can have some fairly serious macro level results… Was it all his influence? Okay, anyone would be better than him, but who could I trust like that? Mister Kent would be most people's choice, but I'm well aware of the way he treated Kon. Diana..? I want to think 'yes', but there's the Nabu thing… If I handed it to Alan, would it help him stay alive? I don't know, but I do know that he hates it and wouldn't want anything to do with it. Anyone else? John Co-? No. Heh, no. I mean, I don't think he'd take it anyway, but no.

Do I keep it myself? I know orange light exposure isn't healthy for a lot of people, but I can't help but think that if people got a little more of my-.

No. That's mind control. I'm not prepared to nudge the species like that, particularly when it could go badly wrong.

"I'll try and find somewhere safe to store it, out of anyone's way. Until then it can live in Themyscira's reliquary. That's as well protected as anywhere, and it will be under constant observation."

"I understand that the League has a highly capable magic user? Would it not be worth consulting them?"

"No, because they might ask for it. Nabu is a Lord of Order, and I don't trust him not to squirt order into the rest of us 'for our own good'." Darn, that was heavy. I wasn't expecting that when I came down here. "Were you able to look into Captain Nazi himself?"

"No, but the theory is simple. Using magic to speed the formation of an embodied genius loci? Nothing about that violates the functioning of magic as I understand it. Though I have only guesswork for how I could identify such a being if I encountered one."

"Does Atlantis have one? You use more magic than anyone else."

"And that very fact would prevent one from developing here. We use so much magic that it becomes structured. For an intelligence to emerge there must be pools left to format themselves over large periods of time. Other places? Perhaps. I haven't.. studied the phenomena, but it could well be."

"Thank you." I take hold of the Spear again. "I'll get this out of your way."

"And I will begin work on a way to block it."

 

[Mr Zoat]

A Star Reborn

12th April
07:27 GMT -6

"You… Completely sure-?"

"Eh-heh eh-heh eh-heh."

Miss Shimmer stares up at me through bleary eyes as her coughing fit comes to an end while her right hand fumbles for the tissue box. Nice to see that her hand usage has improved so much.

"Yeth."

Naturally -being a magically transformed Pony- Miss Shimmer had none of the usual immunities and resistances to local diseases most people take for granted. Or at least have injected into them in early childhood. I had just been giving her a daily purification with my ring, but we talked about it and agreed that bringing her immune system up to scratch was a much better solution.

She may be regretting that now.

"Okay. Aaaah. You know where the intercom is. If you need anything, just-." She presses a button on the control pad and the television comes on.

Oh no, it's Spongebob Squarepants.

"I'll leave you to it, then." I leave her room at a quick-march and close the door behind me. Shame, really. I had been hoping to include her in Thursday's lesson… Oh well. Might still be possible, but she really has to be better for Lynne's birthday.

"I take it that the young lady is little better, Mister Grayven?"

I shake my head. "No." I frown. "Can Genomorphs get ill?"

"Yes, but Human diseases have little effect on us."

She.. visibly hesitates. That's odd. "What is it?"

"I have a request." I wave my right arm in a 'continue' gesture. "A personal one, though I imagine that the results would be of interest to all Genomorphs."

"No need to beat around the bush. What do you want?"

"I wish to know of our origins, Mister Grayven. Through Dubbilex's memories I have seen all of the records relating to the development work done to turn our G-Promethean brethren into the other Genomorph strains. What I do not know is how they were developed. Cadmus has no record of it. I thought that perhaps Mister Luthor may be more willing to divulge the pertinent information to you now that you are a member of the Light."

I nod. Interesting question, actually. They're not direct copies of any species that Father Box or Sinestro have ever heard of and creating them whole cloth should be well beyond Human biotechnology. Or… I suppose a malign hypercognitive could, but I doubt that they would stop there. "I am somewhat curious myself. I can't promise that I'll be able to find anything out, but I will certainly ask him."

She bows. "Thank you, Mister Grayven. Miss Wayland is presently attempting to teach herself remote viewing in the 'rumpus room'. Your meeting with Director Williams is scheduled to begin in two minutes at the Centre for Paranormal Studies in Metropolis."

"Thank you, Jean. Father Box, hush tube."

"Ploong."

I step through the portal in the air and into the hardened room we built into the Mountain for full contact superpower combat practice. Lynne sits with a couple of G-Gnomes and a row of blank white cards lying on the floor.

"Square." She turns over the first, revealing a diamond. "Ohh."

"Poppet, time to go. Are you ready?"

"I guess." She sweeps the cards into a pile and hands them to one of the G-Gnomes. "Is this place really going to be my school?"

"Maybe. Depends…" I extend my right hand and take hold of her right hand to help her to her feet. "If the Genomorphs can find a way to safely teach you things telepathically, I'd rather send you somewhere more normal starting in the next school year. Otherwise, this place is.. probably the best place you could go." I lay my huge left hand over her right, sandwiching it between mine. "Now, if you really hate it, I won't insist. But this isn't like the people who tried to teach you things before. This is a charitable foundation run by civilians."

"I… I know." She looks away. "I just… Okay, let's go."

I'll… Just have to hope that she warms up to the idea. "Father Box."

"Ploong."

A new portal opens, and we step through.

12th April
08:30 GMT -5

Hm. Looks a bit like a hospital reception desk, actually. I lead Lynne in the direction of the receptionist. "Good morning. Grayven and Lynne Wayland to see-."

"Hello there!" We look around to see Director Williams walking towards us, waving his left hand and smiling cheerily. He's about three feet tall and completely bald, wearing what must be a custom lab coat with a shirt, blue jumper vest and navy blue bowtie. "I'm Doctor Williams." He walks closer. "And you must be Lynne."

"Hi?"

She appears to not be quite sure what to make of him. He certainly isn't visibly threatening, which is one of the reasons I think this might actually work. I didn't warn her that he was a dwarf, or tell her that he's a telekine himself. That can be something for her to find out on her own recognisance.

"Now, there's no need to feel nervous. For a lot of our students, coming here is the first time they've met anyone who can do the sorts of things that they can. Now-" He turns away and motions for us to follow with his right arm. "-classes don't start for another half an hour, but a lot of the children here live on site. Why don't I introduce you to a few of them while your father and I have a walk around."

"Um, okay." Lynne starts after him while I bring up the rear. "Why do they live here?"

"We're the only school like this in the entire country. Our students come from all over, and a lot of the time it isn't really practical for them to go home at the end of the day. Or even at the weekends."

Head that one off… "Lynne, you can always call for a hush tube."

"Oh, uh, most of them do, though. It's actually a major limiting factor in the total number of students we have. Some only come for a few weeks each year, but for the full time students, they either have to be local or… Well, their abilities are so overt that they need our help in learning to control them."

Normal parent question next. "What sort of class sizes do you have?"

"Class sizes for our normal education program range from eight to twelve children, but when it comes to teaching the children to use their paranormal abilities we use much smaller groups. A lot of the time teaching is one to one, so the student's development can be precisely monitored. There's a lot we don't know about how these abilities work, so we put a great deal of emphasis on safety, both for the children and the staff."

Lynne nods. "Do you have..? Other telepaths?"

"Several students have different forms of extra sensory perception. If you mean 'can they speak to each other mind to mind', there are a couple of other children who can do things like that." He smiles up at her. "Would you like to meet them?"

"No." She shakes her head, stopping dead in the corridor. "No. I shouldn't go anywhere near them. If they.. touch my mind by mistake…"

"Ah, yes." He glances at me, then returns his attention to her. "Mister Grayven did.. mention the tragic incident with your parents. But don't worry, everyone here knows not to poke into other people's minds without permission."

"She does have a point, Director. I wouldn't want to needlessly endanger anyone."

"Hm. Ahhh… Ah!" He sets off again with a spring in his step and we follow. "Since not all of our students are capable of conventional telepathy, it wouldn't really be hard to put you in a class where no one else was. At least until your control is good enough that it isn't a problem any more." He knocks on a door, waits for a moment and then pushes it open.

"Hey Doc."

"Good morning, Claire. We've got a visitor. Would you mind looking after her for a little while?"

"Sure. Why not?" The Director steps back as a teenaged girl with astonishingly long and flame-orange hair comes out after him. I get a momentary frown before she turns her attention on Lynne. "Hey."

"Hello?"

"So what are you in for?"

"I'm a telepath. I can turn off people's brains." She pauses, not quite sure where to go from there. "What do you do?"

"I burn stuff." Claire holds up her right hand and it's momentarily enveloped in flame. "Wanna come meet everyone?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th April
08:46 GMT -5

"…have had children come to us in difficult circumstances before, but…" Doctor Williams shakes his head sadly. "Nothing on a level with what Lynne's been through."

I nod. I hadn't expected that they would. Huh, I hoped they wouldn't. I like to believe that what Lynne went through couldn't happen here, not without me knowing about it. That's one of the reasons I've been spending quite a bit of time mapping out the extent of SHADE 16's influence. And why one of the first things I'm going to raise with the Light is the idea of doing away with the opposition: thinking and planning type supervillains. It takes a very particular type of person to organise that much misery.

"That's why I want to ease her into a school setting gradually, rather than having her start attending immediately."

I've had to be subtle about it. Don't know for certain that we even have a Father Time. As far as I can tell, our version of the organisation grew out of the support structure for the All Star Squadron. At the end of the war all but a handful of the 'talent' left, but they were still in control of some very dangerous individuals and plenty of baseline Humans with very specialist expertise. Like the Marine Corps, despite the fact that they didn't have an obvious purpose any longer they never quite got absorbed by any of the other agencies looking to expand their remit. The laws which let them create federal agents are still on the books but they don't appear to get any federal funding. Instead, they survive by 'renting' their expertise out to other agencies, though I'm sure there are plenty of off the books revenue streams I haven't found yet.

We step through the door to his office and he walks around his desk and climbs up into his chair as I take the seat opposite. His is a plush… High chair, complete with wooden steps to allow him to get to the seat. It looks a little… Infantilising, but I can't think of a better alternative for him. Assuming that he can't autolevitate.

"That's probably for the best." He looks uncomfortable for a moment. "I'll be honest, Mister Grayven: I'm not.. completely certain we can give Lynne what she needs. The children here have a wide variety of mental abilities, but only a few are classical telepaths. Take me for example." He raises his right hand and a short stack of papers rise out of his in-tray and floats over to him. "I can lift small objects and I can apply sudden bursts of force to larger ones. And I've got-" He waves his right arm at his computer. "-scans of what's happening in my brain when I do it. But we're still a very long way from understanding the biological basis of what I can do. And what I do is relatively simple to quantify."

"And telepathy isn't."

"When we first started, I assumed that psychic phenomena would be the result of a single oddity in some people's brains. Enough people had similar sets of abilities that it seemed like a reasonable hypothesis. I have what looks like a-" He taps the back of his head with his right fore and index fingers. "-small growth attached to my cerebellum. It's stayed the same size for as long as I've been checking up on it so I know it isn't cancerous. That, and the fact it lights up whenever I use my abilities. Most of the other people here who can move things with their mind have something very similar. Then…" He fans out his hands. "Others don't. And I can't explain why."

"Have you eliminated the possibility of magic use?"

He shakes his head helplessly. "I wouldn't know where to start. For the most part I assume that they're non-psychic metahumans whose abilities have a different basis. Teaching them… We'd had success with the same methods, so it doesn't make much difference where the children are concerned."

"I could… Probably… Get my hands on a few magic users. If you.. wanted to examine it from that side."

"Ahh." He looks away, right hand briefly covering his mouth and then stroking his chin as he thinks about it. "I'm.. not certain that our trustees would… Understand…"

"Do you know the difference between a parapsychic and a telepath?"

"Of course. A telepath can connect to other peoples' minds. A parapsychic can usually do that, but they can also read… Impressions from inanimate objects."

"That's the definition. But the important difference?"

He frowns slightly. "There are several, but..? Telepaths often have altered amygdala function while parapsychics usually don't? I've never been able to come up with an adequate explanation for how it's possible to get a mental impression from a thing without a mind-."

"Parapsychics use magic."

His face relaxes and his eyes dip as he takes that on board. "You're sure?"

"I'm not a magic user myself, but the descriptions of the ability in your literature match and the handful I've been able to examine directly do. One of the problems with the way you study now is that you can't eliminate such possibilities."

"That… Would explain… But that means…" He focuses his attention on me. "When you say that you can get a magic user..?"

"An… Associate of mine is looking to form a connection to a surface world institution. Test the water, as it were."

"Someone from Atlantis?" I nod. "I…" He breathes in and out again. "That could be very helpful. I'm just a little worried about how the oversight committee will feel about it." He sighs. "Despite our results, it's sometimes a struggle to persuade them that it's worth investing in psychic phenomena. Magic research… Are you aware of just how many Americans believe that magic is inherently evil? Particularly after Klarion-." He suddenly remembers who he's talking to. "Ah."

I smile. "Doctor Williams, I am fully aware of that. And I am fully aware of the Human propensity for burying their heads in the sand. But pretending it will go away if it's ignored hard enough is stupid. It may amuse you to know this, but are you aware that your school is the most advanced centre of magic research in America?"

"Really?" He frowns. "But we.. don't study.. magic. Not intentionally, anyway."

I nod. "Yes. That's how bad things are." I pause to let that sink in. "I think my connections in the US government will allow me to talk people around to expanding your remit. Even the.. Protestant right.. are aware of just how vulnerable America is. I'm perfectly happy to act as your political cheerleader."

I still believe that Jade only got me that costume because she didn't credit the idea that I'd actually wear it.

"Oh. Thank you. But the funding we get from the federal government only comes to us indirectly. And we can't go without money for the time it would take them to pass an appropriations bill."

Which leads me nicely on to the other reason I'm here. Places like this were amongst the first absorbed by SHADE 50 when they ballooned after the fall of the Justice Lords. The work they do is too valuable to me personally and to humanity more generally to let it become some sort of.. stupid paramilitary training centre. Keeping tabs on this place helps steer the country away from that, as well as giving me something I can point to when the rest of the Light ask what I've done for humanity recently.

"I was thinking of making a donation myself, as a thank you for helping my daughter."

"I'm sure that we're grateful for anything you can contribute, but the amount-."

"Two hundred million dollars."

His eyes widen. "Oh…"

"Obviously, that would go to a trust. And there would be conditions."

"Such as..?"

"That you don't accept money from the military or other security agencies. I'm all for defence spending, but your students are children."

"Yes, well, that shouldn't be a problem." Something occurs to him. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"I'm a little surprised that a man in your position doesn't have other options when it comes to this sort of thing. I know that there are telepathic superheroes out there."

"Yes, I did consider seeing if Henry King could make time for me. Thing is, for all his skill he doesn't have an understanding of the underlying mechanics of his ability. Lynne doesn't need to learn how to be more telepathic, she needs to learn control." And to be taken slightly -but not greatly- out of her comfort zone. "And there's the same problem with recruiting a Martian; their brains handle things differently. Humans aren't anything like as plastic, they can't adapt to feedback as quickly."

"I assume that your own people don't have anything similar?"

"Most of what we do is a sort of.. innate magic. Those amongst us who learn to manipulate that in clever ways end up more like sorcerers rather than telepaths." Thank goodness. Dread to think what Apokolips would be like with living Anti-Life broadcasters. "And to be honest my people are pretty unpleasant. I'd rather not dip into that well if I can avoid it."

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th April
15:43 GMT -6

"OOOOphF!"

Guy goes flying backwards, slamming into the rocky ground below us as Jordan moves his hammer construct back into the guard position. We spend a moment watching Guy unsteadily pull himself out of the resulting crater as the people in the stands cheer.

"Heh." Jordan doesn't quite take his eyes off his fallen sparring partner, but he does glance my way. "Guess I don't need this as much as you thought."

I frown. "Sorry, he's… Usually a lot better than this." I cup my right hand against my mouth. "Guy, you alright?!" He waves me off with his right hand, before shaking his head to try and clear out the cobwebs. Or perhaps to chase away the circling birds.

"Maybe you're not as good as you think either." He smirks. "I mean, if that's the best you've ever sparred against…"

"Bet you a power ring?"

The hammer dissipates. "Hey, I'm just saying-."

"Guy." The man in question gives his head one last shake before looking up at me. "Jammer and countdown."

Jordan hasn't come remotely close to mastering short range FTL hops so there's not really much point practising with them beyond what I need to in order to emphasise that he really needs to. And I'll freely admit, my skill in purely construct combat is a little below par. I mean, if I can't do better than a flipping boxing glove, that's just embarrassing.

A glowing green set of grid lights appears in the air above us, horns honking as the first set of lights shine a dull green. Jordan and I switch our attention to totally focusing on one another. Another horn blast and the second set of lights comes on. Immediately I generate construct armour while Jordan flies backwards to maximise the distance between us. A third horn blast and I fly towards Jordan at high speed while he swings his right arm in a punching motion and generates a swarm of boxing glove constructs, grinning confidently as he sends them at me.

Flak gun constructs appear on my shoulders and bolts of orange energy meet and disintegrate each one. A simple scan shows him generating a baseball bat construct while my vision is obscured… He's actually holding it in his hands. Numpty. I send thin filaments out from me in all directions, reaching out for any green light they might encounter.

He swings just as my guns destroy the last boxing glove. To be fair to him, at least he tried to conceal what he was doing. I'm only going to have half a second to respond before I join Guy in eating desert.

Half a real second.

Time slows as the bat brushes my filament fronds and I focus on making the bat construct mine. They latch on and it begins changing colour. I increase the amount of glow that my construct armour is putting out, in the hope that doing so will prevent him from reacting for a fraction of a second longer. The flak gun on my right shoulder changes into a laser and fires a twin shot at his eyes as a further distraction even as I jink around the bat I'm already more in control of than he is.

Then I have the bat extend its bindings around his hands and start swinging him around the sky.

His environmental shield should prevent him feeling dizzy, but from personal experience I know that it's still quite a disorientating process. He keeps his head in the game and forms a knife construct to try cutting through his own usurped bat. He'll be through in a moment, so I generate a construct boxing glove of my own and spin him in my direction before dissipating the bat. He gets a half-second of staring in shock before the construct leather meets his forehead.

A stunning blow, but thanks to his environmental shield not a knockout one. Filaments latch on and begin usurping his environmental shield while yanking him hither and thither. A simple impact pulse to the usurped patch over his abdomen has him doubling over, air rushing from his lungs. Again, he doesn't exactly need to breathe, but Human instinctive responses work in a certain way. I use his distraction to generate a large and very solid snake construct directly above him and bring it down fast!

"Alert! Incoming-."

He gets just enough warning to look upwards before it slams into him snout first and conveys him into the ground at speed, sending a plume of grit and dusts upwards and earning me a cheer from the crowd.

"Aaaaaand winnerrrrr!" Guy gives me a respectful nod as he floats closer. "That wasn't.. actually the big snake though, right?"

"Of course not. Her head's narrower than that."

"Good t'know."

I remove the snake construct to allow Jordan to check himself for injuries. "You seemed.. kind of out of the game today."

"Ye-ah." Guy looks more embarrassed than anything. "Haven't been sleepin' too good lately. Head's like it's fulla cotton wool. Dunno why. I'd blame Tora-"

"Please don't."

"-but it ain't that."

"If you're actually ill…"

He shakes his head and Jordan flies towards us. "Nah, I'll just… Take some Tylerol and have an early night."

"Okay, well, I need to go and pick up Zatanna-" Guy snorts. "-so since you're not exactly fighting fit we should-."

Jordan's ring flashes, and his face takes on a vacant expression for a moment. "Sorry guys. Duty calls." He rockets upwards towards the edge of the atmosphere.

I shrug. "Okay, well, take it easy, Guy. I'll see you Saturday."

"Yeah." I can see how much he dislikes having made a poor showing against Jordan. "You too."

12th April
16:47 GMT -5

I appear in front of Shadowcrest. No need to go for low impact here, this is known superhero territory. Zatanna smiles up at me, still in her school uniform. "Ready to go?"

She nods excitedly. "Oh yeah." She takes hold of the poster tube concealing the Sapphire Staff… Not a great name, but it'll do for now.

"Do you want to try flying up there yourself or-."

"No. Maybe… When we're finished? If there's time?"

"Rightyoh. Stand by." A flicker, and New York is replaced by the Mars-Jupiter asteroid belt.

"Nepo." The cardboard outer spirals open and reveals the glowing staff within. Zatanna takes a firm grip and.. her uniform subtly alters. Nothing… Inappropriate… Quite. Though I imagine that someone would have a word if she tried wearing it at school. A moment's hesitation, then the violet aura flows over her and I remove my own tether.

Sephtian was more than happy to work on the design for a magic battery. He was even willing to devise a version which took full advantage of orichalcum's greater enchantability, though I didn't ask him to make one. No sense implicating him. No sense implicating Io either, which is why Zatanna has spent some time on Themyscira watching her work.

"Dlog dna reppoc ot muclahciro."

I watch as the metal begins to transmute and our storage vessel begins to take shape. Not exactly energy efficient, doing it like this. But it does preserve the secret, and that's the more important thing.