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

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
18:57 GMT -6

Hm. I walk out into one of the courtyards that form part of the palace grounds. That went… Reasonably well. I take another Deca seed out of the bowl with my right hand and put it into my mouth. Then I hesitate. I've eaten rather a lot of these. Okay, in my youth I could finish off a packet of chocolate fingers in a single sitting, but now I'm…

Mother Box, can New Gods get-?

Ah.

Yes.

Well, that killed the mood. I'll get Scott to have a look at her just as soon as I'm finished here. I put the bowl down on the low wall running around the fountain in the centre of the courtyard and take a proper look around. It's a big place, but it's mostly bare stone and I strongly doubt that property or land prices are particularly high around here. It's lit by braziers of burning wood. There should be… I don't know, mosaics or something. A fresco showing scenes from Tamaranian mythology. I'm not exactly Mister Conspicuous Consumption myself, but… Really, if your palaces aren't at least a little ostentatious, how can anyone take you seriously?

You know, I think-.

"You were talking to Father for a long time." I look up as Komand'r descends from the sky, hair billowing around her as if buoyed up by a bonfire. It still strikes me as chimeric; where her sister's hair is a uniform red-orange Komand'r has different tones, orange darkening to brown-amber towards the edge of each curl. As for the rest of her… Her hair is kept from her face by a plain steel tiara, while the rest of her clothing might generously be described as a mini-dress made of blue cloth. Something she owned from before her enforced absence? It's not really traditional Tamaranian fare. Her feet are covered by wood and hide sandals. No stiletto heel, but the back is slightly built up.

"We had a good deal to discuss. And he's.. quite pleasant company." I look her over once more as she lands, her hair falling about her shoulders as she stops exerting her abilities. "Given up on the ring already?"

She turns her nose up slightly, looking back into the palace. "I want my people to see me flying under my own power as a Tamaranian should."

I nod placidly. The wonders of Psion medical research. "May I ask if you have made a decision on whether to keep it or not?"

She jerks her head back around. "Why do you ask like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like the result of the decision is not totally in your power."

I close my eyes, shaking my head. "That is not how I -or the orange rings- work." I look to the side, sighting an open area of the plaza and then wanting a construct-chair into being. I really do get on better with an orange ring for things like that than I do with Sinestro.

Simply a matter of practice and application, Corpsman.

I sit down, taking a moment to get comfortable before looking up at Komand'r. Her arms are crossed just under her breasts, pushing them up and inwards slightly. Her weight slightly more on her right hip than her left, emphasising the lithe muscularity of her physique.

…

No, no, it's not working. Stage 2 is still some way off.

"The ring empowers you to do what you want. To be what you want. Demanding obedience from another ring user doesn't work."

"You think that I would hesitate to do whatever Tamaran needs?"

I shake my head. "Why would I want you to be weaker than you could be?"

Her face hardens, her eyes glow and her hair roils in the air around her head. "You dare call me weak?"

"I did not call you weak. Though purely as a point of information, if I thought you weak I would most certainly dare to call you weak. I asked, why would I want you to be weaker than you could be? If you served me under sufferance your constructs would be far weaker than if you worked with me because you want the same end that I do."

He hair calms slightly, though her eyes still glow lime green. "And what end is that?"

I lean back into my chair construct, relaxing fully and closing my eyes. "A resurgence of Tamaranian strength. I see a.. potential, here, that is not being productively channelled."

"What, you wish for us to become your.. warriors? As the Gordanians are for the Citadel?"

I smile. "Oh, no. I would have fallen beyond all redemption if I failed that badly."

"Speak plainly then. All Tamarus knows that you spent the day negotiating our future with my father. What did you demand as the terms for our new servitude?"

I narrowly open my eyes and hold out my right hand, palm upwards. "If you want an artisan to carve you a stone bench, do you give him a chisel and hammer..? Or… A plasma cutter, or.. whatever Tamaranian masons use? Or do you instead break his arms and legs and put out his eyes?"

"You give him tools, of course."

"Give him tools." I nod. "Princess Komand'r, at my worst, I would recognise that fact. I am the Apokoliptian God of Conquest and the Gordanians and their Citadel masters offend me most profoundly. They have had you under their guns for.. two generations now? And they have done nothing with you."

"They have done many things with me and my sister."

"That is not what I meant. I mean, with your society. They have brutalised you but they have not conquered you. They have not even tried. They have made no attempt to integrate you into their society at all. They have not even attempted to exterminate you and settle your world for themselves. All the resources you possess and they take… Paltry amounts of money? All the things you could productively do for them and all they can think to do is keep you too weak to do any of them. Pathetic, barbaric stupidity."

I shake my head. "No, they've got to go. The whole pack of disappointing failures have to go." I look her in the eyes and smile faintly. "And then your lot can have a go at it instead."

Respect to her, she takes a moment to consider what I'm saying. "With you as our ruler?"

"Though that could work -the Gordanians are effectively ruled by the Citadel Emperor and they've flourished- but… No. I'll be.. around, I have my own interests to serve… But as I said-."

"If we do not want it for ourselves, we would not be able to use your rings as well." I nod, and she frowns. "But you claim to be a God of Conquest."

"There are more ways to conquer a place… A people, than with brute force. I will be a shaping force in Tamaranian society, encouraging it to develop in ways beneficial to me. A more subtle application of my domain than perhaps you are used to."

She stares at me for a moment, then shakes her head. "Even if you could destroy every Gordanian ship in the Vega Systems, you would still have-."

"The Branx, the Psions and the Citadel Fleet itself to deal with." I lean forwards. "The Branx have the best organisation and discipline. The Psions are scientists and engineers with few peers and the Citadel has an entrenched position and excellent fortifications. All together they stand between Tamaran and greatness. So I ask you, Princess Komand'r: what do you want?"

"I want them gone. I want their worlds to burn, their people dead or dying. I wish to place my boot upon the neck of the Citadel Emperor and-" The area around her right hand crackles with glowing purple plasma as she balls her hand into a fist. "-burn off his face for what he has done to my people!"

"We can do that." I nod. "We can do that. What else?"

"Tamaran needs to be stronger." She opens her right hand, allowing the energy she'd built up to dissipate. "I will not tolerate us ever being in this situation again."

"And to do that?"

"Industry. Technolo-" A mote of orange light streaks through the air as her ring comes to a halt just in front of her. "-gy."

"I was thinking of taking some of that from the Citadel Complex's smouldering remains." I raise my eyebrows. "Interested?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
19:27 GMT -6

Recruitment stage two.

I had assumed that my Corps could limp on without a Maltusian, just staying in the Vega region and recharging directly from the Orange Central Power Battery. Guy told me that he never had any problem recharging from the Green Central Power Battery, and I've never had much of a problem with the orange light's addictive qualities. Personal lanterns would be better and we'd need them eventually, but they weren't a priority.

Having actually encountered the Orange Central Power Battery now, I'm forced to conclude that that isn't a viable option. If the blasted thing could entrance me then I'd dread to think of the effect of putting it on an inhabited planet.

…

Maybe that's a bit much. The Okaarans have had it on their planet for the entirety of their history and while I don't consider their present civilisation as something I'd want to emulate they aren't crazy avarice monsters. But I want to put it in -or at least near- a major city, and that will be rather different to Larfleeze's hole in the ground in the middle of nowhere.

So. While Koriand'r oversees the disbursement of the prisoners and Komand'r reviews Tamaran's census records, Ghia'ta and I step through a hush tube and out into a Maltusian street. Airborne vehicles fill the air above us and tall buildings form a respectful circle around the Controllers' centre of operations, and through windows or just walking around I can see individuals from -quick head count- seventeen different species. Armoured caterpillars appear to be the most numerous, but the partial database I took from Jordan marks several of the others as belonging to species whose worlds the Reach has overrun.

"You're confident that this is the right place?" Because wouldn't that be embarrassing.

Ghia'ta nods, taking in our surroundings without much concern. "Yes. The building was constructed before the peoples of Maltus separated. My aunt told me that she used to visit it frequently."

I take another look around. We don't seem to have set off any alarms… "Remind me: what sort of terms are the Zamarons and the Controllers on?"

"We have little to do with one another. I have never met a member of another Maltusian faction." She gives me a nervous smile. "I am looking forward to serving as an Ambassador between our peoples."

"Well spoken, sister."

I look up as a blue skinned man in red, orange and yellow robes descends from the sky. And why his robes aren't flapping around his face due to air resistance I don't know. I suppose that when you're as powerful as Maltusians are supposed to be little things like that are just beneath you. He lands lightly, smiling at us-. No, at Ghia'ta as he does so.

"Or should I say niece? I hadn't realised that our Zamaron sisters were breeding."

"Niece would be more accurate. I am far less powerful than my aunt or her sisters."

"Your aunt?" He tilts his head slightly to the side. "Aga'po?"

"Yes!" Ghia'ta's smile is almost painful in its earnestness. "Do you remember her?"

"I never knew her well, but I do remember her. Tell me, are you-?"

"Sorry to interrupt-" I'm not. "-but I'm here to speak to the Controllers. Are you one?"

He focuses on me, and I can feel something push against my divine resistance. "And an Apokoliptian." And he looks notably less happy about it. "Curious. Is your maleficent overlord turning his attention in our direction?"

"Don't know, don't care. Controllers?"

"You are aware that the Controllers represent only a minority of the Maltusian population? "

"Fine. Do you know anything about orange power rings?"

"Power rings were never my field of study. You should probably talk to Krona, that was always more his sort of thing."

"I'm reasonably sure that the Guardians executed Krona for trying to look at the alpha event and fucking up the universe."

"Oh." He negligently waves his left hand. "Then try Ganthet."

"Ganthet's a Guardian, I'm an Apokoliptian. If I go to Oa with an orange ring and a yellow ring they'll thank me for my time and destroy them both. And possibly me along with them. They certainly wouldn't help me."

"And Hinon can't help so it looks like you're out of luck. Oh well, never mind." He returns his attention to Ghia'ta. "Do you intend to stay long? There are some lovely parklands to the south of here where we've recreated the original-."

"Hinon who?"

"Hinon Hee Hannanan, and I doubt very much that my Controller brothers would let you see her, especially carrying a piece of the Anti-Life Equation."

"Never heard of her, and if you can get it out of me you'll have my thanks."

He shakes his head. "I'm afraid that isn't my field of study. If you would like-?"

"To talk to someone capable of being helpful?" I turn away, striding in the direction of the Controllers' building. "Yes. Have fun, Ghia'ta."

I hear her sigh. "Grayven, you are being you again."

"Yeah, well, this guy just told me he didn't know anything useful and couldn't help. I've got no reason to waste time on him." Hm. There's been some nice landscaping here. The colours of the leaves and flowers are a nice complement to the-.

The Maltusian man zips through the air to take up station just ahead of me, floating backwards to maintain the distance between us. "They won't let you in, especially if you try treating them as rudely as you are me."

"They're useful, you're not, I have a Central Power Battery."

He stops in surprise, barely managing to drift out of my way as I stride past. "You have a what?"

"The Orange Central Power Battery. It's mine, I own it, but it needs a service. Three billion years, one careless owner. I assume that you're incapable?"

"I don't know enough about the Central Power Battery, no. You would need to speak to Hinon directly."

"Excellent." I take the steps up to the front entrance two at a time. "Then I'll know who to ask for. Thank you for your help, you may be on your way."

He flits ahead again-. I'm not going to get rid of him, am I? "I can take you to her, but I doubt that she'll be able to give you what you want."

"If a leading expert can't make a power ring then I'm never coming back here because you're all totally worthless."

"She's been in a coma for… Let us say three billion years."

"What a remarkable coincidence." I reach the front door and give it a push. No, not moving. Hm. YOU WILL NOT DEFY ME!

The doors explode inwards, granting me access to what looks like a fairly generic-looking office lobby. I smile smugly to myself as I stride inside, two… Oh, that's what proper Controllers look like, looking up. They don't appear to be alarmed. Actually, they look somewhat vacant. Bah, I have the name of the one I want.

"You, purple guy on my left. I'm here to speak to Hinon Hee Hannanan. Which way?"

"Our sister is not here for your entertainment, Apokoliptian. And I-." He stops for a moment, the jewel thing on his forehead glimmering. "Or perhaps I am mistaken. Please, follow me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
19:32 GMT -6

I look at the Controller lying motionless on the bier. Pinkie, bluey and Ghia'ta have all followed me here, though I'm not really sure why. Guess it's a slow day for entertainment around here. The woman's pyjamas consist of blue leggings and a purpley-red top. Hm. She looks clean, so either they're at least giving her basic nursing care or Controllers don't excrete. I'd have said the latter, but then I became a god and I still shit. Why should they get an opt-out when I don't?

"Great, thank you. I'll get out of your hair now." I reach forward with my right hand, which suddenly encounters resistance. I give the invisible barrier a prod, then turn my head halfway back toward my escort. "Something I can do for you?"

"Our sister may deign to assist you if you restore her." It's the pink one. "But I do not intend-."

"You left her here for three billion years. I don't know what you intended but it's clearly not working."

"She was reduced to this state after forging the ring you now wear."

"One of the rings I now wear. And I'm not giving it back. If you want to keep a thing, don't throw it away." My right hand still can't move. "What?"

"What is your intent?"

"Take her to Okaara, which is where the Orange Central Power Battery is." Actually… "Though I'm surprised that you don't know that. I'm a little fuzzy on the timelines, but the Guardians were still using Manhunters when they approved Larfleeze keeping it and I seem to remember you and them going your separate ways only after the Manhunter Revolt."

"Your knowledge is incomplete."

"Thought it might have been. Still, you weren't exactly straining to help her yourselves. Now, are you going to get out of my way or do I need to become impolite, because I'm pretty sure I could break this barrier if I set my mind to it."

"You would not escape us."

"Yeah, I've seen what happens when the Controllers try picking a fight with the guy holding the Orange Central Power Battery. It didn't go your way."

In the corner of my eye I see Ghia'ta's right hand twitch toward her face before she gets it back under control and forces it to her side. "Grayven-."

"Though if you're really that worried about her -three billion years later- you're welcome to accompany me. Either of you or any of your confederates. I'll give you until I count 'four' to decide. One."

"Grayven, that is not the-"

"Two."

"-way."

"I will accompany the savage, brother." I withdraw my hand and turn to face bluey. "If only to take the Orange Central Power Battery when his reach finally exceeds his grasp."

"Fine with me." I raise my eyebrows at the pink one. "You?"

"The Controllers will tolerate this, under our brother's oversight."

"Glad to hear it." I turn back to the bier, reaching out with both hands… Nothing blocks them as I use my right hand to support her head and grab her around the middle with my left. She isn't Guardian-short, but she's shorter than most people and compared to me she's tiny. Now, how to hold her..? I put her head on my right shoulder, clamping her in place with my right forearm and leaving my left free. "Ghia'ta, you coming?"

"I think that I should."

"Rightoh." Sinestro, hush tube.

Do you intend to ask her about yellow rings, Corpsman?

No. Far easier just to ask the man we already know makes them.

Oh? I had rather gotten the impression that you were abjuring Qward.

Until I am ready. Once I have a Lantern Corps I'll be as ready as I'm going to get. I don't dismiss your advice out of hand.

Glad to hear it, Corpsman. Hush tube ready.

The tube-. Huh. It's visible here, pale violet lines wiggling around the periphery. Alright, I think that the Maltusians are ancient and learned enough that I don't feel cheated by that. Mindful of Hinon's relaxed body posture I stride through the tube and out into the chamber in which I killed Larfleeze.

"Excuse the mess. I haven't had time to clean the place up yet." Hm. I wonder if Tamaran has a central bank yet? I'm going to guess not, but-.

I stop in the air half way towards the outcrop of rock upon which the Central Power Battery rests. They don't have a central bank. I'm…

I'm going to use my university degree for something. I've actually.. studied this. I.. never thought I'd use it for anything.

My goodness me.

I got a two two and I get to actually use it on an entire planet. My sister got a first in forensics and I doubt that she'll ever murder anyone.

There's no justice.

"Grayven?" Ghia'ta is alongside me, looking at me with concern.

I shake my head. "Sorry, got distracted. Right!" I fly the rest of the way quickly, rising over the top of the rock and turning to face the pair of them. The Central Power Battery is as I left it, orange flames flickering all around it. I try to avoid looking inside the interior as I gently lay Hinon down next to it. Hm. It would be easier if the presence of the thing made her spontaneously awaken, but…

I look at the blue one. "I don't suppose you know anything about what happened to her, do you?"

"I believe that my brother might have been minded to tell you, had you been less obstinate."

Ghia'ta raises her right hand slightly. "I can go and ask him-."

"No, it's fine, I can probably work this out myself. Making rings requires orange light, so…" Show me.

By your command.

Huh. It's… Different to the souls of New Gods, but there's clearly quite a lot going on there. Or-. No, when I altered John Stewart 50 I had Father Box helping me. Now I'm just seeing what the ring can show me. Which is very little. I'm not sure if that's just because she's in a coma… No, I've used this on sleeping people before and below the surface they look more or less the same as when they're awake. Never used it on someone in a coma before, and I know that when long term coma patients wake up they tend to have various kinds of brain damage. Would that apply to a Maltusian?

Okay… So… Trickle in small amounts of orange light and hope that the bits I can't see are still there for it to connect to? Uh, no, first, Sinestro?

…

No response. I raise my right hand slightly and tap the ring. It shines weakly, then fades. Have to do, I suppose. Parallax Vision. Yellow lights appear before my eyes, showing me the structures of her fears. Weak, I'm not surprised that they've faded after three billion years, but still there.

"Ghia'ta, can you use the violet light to see love?"

"Yes."

"Would you mind taking a look at Ms Hannanan? I want to make sure that she still has emotional light within her."

She nods, her eyes glowing for a moment. She nods again, smiling. "Her loves are faded, but love still touches her."

"Good show." I slide my yellow ring off my finger and put it in one of my armour's pouches. I don't want to destroy it by accident after all. I then place my right hand on Hinon's chest and my left on the Orange Central Power Battery.

Guh. Keep it under control, Grayven.

"This is my power, this is my might!
I stand alone in darkest night!
With this ring, my foes I smite!
I conquer all with orange light!"

Orange light screams through me, showing me images of avarice and desire from a hundred billion civilisations, each crying out for me to want them need get take them! Oh, no, that's me screaming. I see the orange light pooling inside Hinon, forming shapes-.

I yank my hands back to my chest. That'll do, then.

…

I should have tried that with my personal lantern first, shouldn't I?

…

Whaw, Sinestro must be feeling really bad if he didn't pick up on that feed line.

"Eeuuagh." Hinon stirs, her eyes flickering for a moment before they open fully. Then she sees me.

Her face remains neutral as she considers me for a moment.

"Oh. Splendid."

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th August
19:37 GMT -6

"If it helps, I'm not exactly thrilled at the prospect either."

"Hmpf." She pulls herself into a sitting position, then looks around the chamber. "You've been busy."

"No, that all belonged to the last guy. The one the Guardians let keep the Orange Central Power Battery. I killed him. My name is Grayven and I'm from-."

"Apokolips. And you're wearing my ring." She frowns. "I distinctly remember throwing that into the Bleed, you know. However did you come by it?"

"I'm glad to see that you didn't lose any of your mental faculties during your three billion year nap." I hold out the middle three fingers of my right hand. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Young man, if you want something from me-."

"I just woke you up. You guttered your own link to the orange light and I restored it. From where I stand, I'd say that you owe me already."

"Were it not for the ring which you wear on your finger, I might be inclined to agree with you."

"You just told me that you threw it away. Did you misspeak? Did you in fact throw it away with the intent that it would reach me?"

"I was certain that it would reach someone. It wasn't meant to go to Apokolips."

"In that case, you are to be congratulated. It somehow ended up between Earth Prime and Earth Sixteen and may have played a role in my being returned to my home parallel."

"Prime? What do you mean by that?"

"It's a fascinating place whose structures absolutely don't support magic. Going there the first time utterly destroyed my soul and turned me into a Human."

She frowns. "That shouldn't have been possible."

"As I said: congratulations."

"Hm." She awkwardly pushes herself up, pausing for a moment as she notices the hand I'm holding out to her. She doesn't take it, rising to her feet and theatrically brushing the dirt from her trousers. "So; just what it is that you intend to demand from me while I'm enfeebled from my three billion year slumber?" She looks around again. "And where are we?"

"To answer your second question: we're in the Vega Systems. It's where the Guardians dumped the Psions when they grew tired of them."

Bluey perks up at that. "We were trying to allow them to recover their own culture."

I roll my eyes at him. "Well done. If it wasn't for their stay-at-home habits they'd be the next Dominion by now." I frown. "Ah, the Dominion might not have been a thing when you were last awake. They're a race with a ruling caste of evil scientists."

Hinon nods. "Ah, they've settled down then. I suppose that's progress. And what do you want?"

"Some sort of protective case for my Central Power Battery. It nearly entranced me and I'm a little nervous about letting anyone else anywhere near it."

"Present company excluded, presumably."

"If you couldn't take it you'd be useless to me and I assumed that Ghia'ta's use of the violet light would insulate her somewhat."

"And the hippy?"

Bluey's jaw tightens. "Excuse me, oh sister-."

"You're excused."

"I met him about half an hour ago and I don't really care what happens to him. If the worst comes to the worst I could always turn him into a construct."

"Unless he defeated you, took the Orange Light Fountain and the Entity contained therein for himself and launched an insane campaign of genocide across the universe."

I nod. "Yes, unless that happened. What's a Light Fountain?"

"What that is." She waves her right hand negligently at the Central Power Battery. "The prime connection to the orange light in the material universe. A proper Central Power Battery is the 'protective case', containing the light and making channelling it easier for lesser life forms."

"New God here."

"Yes, and that might explain why you've lasted as well as you have." She glances at the 'Light Fountain' again. "These fancy flames are a sign of leakage and waste, not that Krona had an attack of aesthetic concerns when he made it."

I suspected, but it's nice to have it confirmed. Alan's ring always did the same thing and there's no way that was in good repair. And-. "Wait, Krona? That lunatic the Guardians sentenced to incorporeality for fucking up the universe. He made it?"

"He did what?"

"Broke the universe by trying to look at the alpha event. You'd have to ask the hippy for details."

"The fact that I regard traditional Maltusian factionalism as foolish does not make me a hippy!"

"Oh, that's a shame. But not to worry, I'm sure that I can work with what he's left me."

"And go through and make sure that he hasn't left any sort of control system, because that would really get me down: him turning up and stealing all of my stuff. And some conventional rings and personal lanterns would be nice."

"How many were you thinking?"

I shrug. "I don't know. A few thousand."

She looks decidedly unimpressed. "Really. And what's in it for me?"

"A few thousand Lanterns. Plus you get to sort out a few of the Guardians' missteps in a way that you can hold over their heads forever."

"So these Lanterns will work for me, will they?"

"My Lanterns will work for me, and I may dispatch a proportion to assist my allies. You can recruit your own as well if you want. It's no skin off my nose."

"But you would keep the Central Power Battery."

"Once I destroy the Citadel there will be no significant interstellar power in this region of space. It will be far safer here than on the Reach's doorstep."

"And what does Yuga Khan think of this?"

"Grandfather's been missing in action for nearly as long as you have, and as far as I know father's never been here. And I don't care to serve either of them. Part of why I'm doing this is to gather enough power to ensure my ongoing independence."

"And that Anti-Life fragment in your soul isn't a mark of his favour?"

"He may regard it as such. I do not."

Hinon turns away from me, bending slightly to get a better look at the Light Fountain. "Keeping an entire Lantern Corps going would be quite a big job for me to do on my own."

"Since they're mostly going to be operating locally, all I absolutely need in the short term is the Central Power Battery. I have Larfleeze's ring reserve and can wait on the personal lanterns. Beyond that, the more other Controllers you convince to help, the more Lanterns they get. Failing that, it occurs to me that -properly re-educated- the Psions may have what it takes to aid you."

"A race of deranged scientists?"

I gaze levelly at her, unimpressed. "Sun-Eaters."

"Hmm. Not our finest hour. Still, if they've been a blight on the universe since we abandoned our uplift program… It might be a workable solution."

"Good. You get to work on that, I'll finish preparing the ground." I pat her on the back, and she doesn't move even slightly. Tough old biddy. "I'll check up on you when I've mustered my forces."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th August
02:17 GMT -6

"It seems that you exaggerated your need for my aid, Mister Grayven."

I hold up both of my personal lanterns, the orange one now blazing as brightly as its yellow counterpart. For so long I've had to ration my recharges to what it could support, its capacitors recharging painfully slowly at times. Eighteen hours to recover a full ring-charge and incapable of storing more than two. Now I have a direct connection to the Orange Light Fountain I'm finally free of that restriction.

"It's hardly practical for an entire Corps to recharge themselves from a single personal lantern, even if it is technically possible."

Though now I think about it… Sinestro, where is your Central Power Battery?

I have no idea, Corpsman. Logically, it would either be somewhere on Qward Fifty or my personal lantern was designed to work without one. Given that I have continued functioning here, I think that the latter is more likely.

Ah, like Kyle Rayner's.

No, Corpsman. Rayner inherited Abin Sur's lantern, which was standard issue. I'm not clear why you would think otherwise.

Whoops. Or is it? No, I can just tell him.

Different parallel universe. Jordan got possessed and destroyed the Green Central Power Battery. The last thing Ganthet did was give an independent lantern to Rayner.

Ah. Clever. No Guardian would tolerate a personal lantern they could not shut down, not unless the situation was utterly dire. But I would not be surprised to learn that they had a plan in place should such a situation arise.

"True, you would need a rota. But it would be manageable."

"Why do you think I've been so abrasive? I assure you, if you were essential I would have been a good deal more deferential. You're my first choice, but you're not absolutely necessary. If you refused, I would try hiring a New God, then a Qwardian, and failing that I would temporarily accept a reduced operating status. But I have to be prepared to issue a point blank refusal if none of those I seek to do business with would offer acceptable terms."

"And all these rings."

And wasn't that a surprise. I distantly remember something about comic-Glomulus pretending to be a power ring, but apparently turning people into power rings is something which sufficiently powerful Orange Lanterns can just do. It certainly makes my 'go it alone' model a good deal more reliable. If I could stomach the act.

Which I probably could.

Ghia'ta steps out of a hush tube to my left, looking at me expectantly. I nod, returning the yellow personal lantern to subspace and following her back through the tube. We appear in a stone corridor near an open air amphitheatre the Tamaranians abandoned after they so conclusively lost their war with the Citadel.

"Any new problems?"

"No, though I do not like how little training they have had. For an operation on such a scale-."

"We should expect fatalities. I know that. They know that. And they volunteered anyway, for a chance to free their people and strike down their enemies." I shake my head. "Orange power rings are exceedingly user-friendly. While I could teach them more sophisticated techniques, the gains we would get compared to the losses involved in leaving the Citadel active mean that it wouldn't be a proportionate exchange. I'll be sending them with drones and they'll have hush tubes, but there comes a point where you have to take events into your own hands. And Tamaran-"

Ghia'ta steps to the side as I shove open the wooden door.

"-has had enough of being controlled."

I stride through the opening, the sound from the stands cutting out almost immediately. No cheers, but I suppose for something like this that wouldn't be appropriate. I take a moment to look around, making eye contact here and there. Then I half-turn and proceed towards the centre of the amphitheatre.

On the day Komand'r was born, for no better reason than spite, the Gordanian 'occupation' force launched an orbital strike on Tamarus, destroying an entire district of the city and nearly everyone in it. The act was fairly efficacious, forever blackening the name of an innocent baby in the eyes of her fellow Tamaranians. But as should have been obvious, she was very far from the only child born that day. Even with Tamaran's population being so much smaller than Earth's, there were tens of thousands of births.

So it really wasn't that hard finding two hundred people born that day who were willing to learn how to use power rings if it meant they got a shot at the people who wrecked their world.

"People of Tamaran! I have a present for you!"

There's a flicker of orange light just to my right, and the newly completed Orange Central Power Battery appears. Along with the woman who created it. Across the seating I see orange rings flicker as they respond to its presence.

"People of Tamaran! Lanterns! Today! Is the last day! On which anyone fears the Citadel! Today! Is the last day ! On which any Tamaranian fears the Psions! Or the Branx, or the Gordanians, or anyone else! Today! Is the first day! Of Tamaran's ascendancy!"

I see their rings glowing at the strength of their desires, and the pulses coming from the Orange Central Power Battery as it responds. I rise off the ground, floating out in front of the Battery with my arms wide. No one shouts, no one even whispers as Komand'r and Koriand'r come up alongside me.

"You know your objectives. You are to strike their fleet mercilessly, killing everyone. Let the suffering of your grandparents and your parents and yourselves be repaid in full this day! Leave nothing! And when you have destroyed your target move on to the next. Do not tarry. The Citadel did not become as powerful as they are by being completely stupid."

They should have a fairly target-rich environment. The Citadel Fleet has been expanding as the Ermanian shipyards complete their next generation of ships, but they are mostly being deployed away from the Citadel in preparation for the beginning of their crusade of conquest. The ships serving as the Citadel's defence force are on high alert, which means that most of the Citadelians who would normally be on the Citadel itself are shipboard and most of the vessels of other races who would normally be stopping off at the Citadel Complex have politely but firmly been shooed away. There will be some -whom we'll be killing- as well as a slave population whom we will be endeavouring to evacuate, but we're mostly looking at a target-rich environment while armed with weapons of untold destructive capacity wielded by people driven to complete mercilessness. I did briefly toy with the idea of keeping the Citadel and using it ourselves, but it's a symbol of such malevolence that I don't think it's worth it.

And it's not as if there aren't other deserving people around here whom we can relieve of their space-based infrastructure. Two hundred and three lanterns can pull better than a fleet of tugs, especially at faster than light speeds.

"Orange Lanterns! Today we fight! Today we kill! Today we achieve victory! Now raise! Your! Rings!"

My left fist punches the air in perfect time with theirs, the princesses at my side copying the gesture.

"This is our power, this is our might!
We stand alone in darkest night!
With these rings, our foes we smite!
We conquer all with orange light!"

A colossal wave of orange power envelops the amphitheatre as two hundred and three rings report their status.

"Charge at one hundred percent capacity."

I grin.

"Jean, open the hush tubes."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th August
02:23 GMT -6

My right arm is up and pointing at Emperor Damyn as his retinue come to their feet and reach for their weapons, plasma from my forearm-mounted fusion cannon already burning through the air between us to disintegrate his entire torso.

"Goodbye."

I grin as the hush tube behind me shuts down and raise my daiklave. A Citadelian on my left raises a plasma weapon only to be shot in the head by one of my blaster drones, sending him staggering and dropping, his not quite dead body shaking and spasming as his gun clatters to the deck.
Strike them down!
And then I lunge, batting the feasting table aside with my left hand so that it slams into the Citadelian officers on my left and obscures the line of sight of the soldiers on that side of the room. A backhand swing from my daiklave cleaves through the armour of another officer, breaking though into his chest and cutting a bloody slash out of the other side. I get a momentary flash of him vomiting blood as I move on to the next target.
Destroy all rivals!
Another Citadelian, this one with slightly fancier armour. He has enough time to raise his arms into a blocking position, his armour's force field producing a weak translucent shimmer in the air between us. Then my daiklave hits it and it fractures and fades, his forearms tumbling aside as the blade slices through just above the elbows and continues on into and through his neck.
Overrun their defences!
The drones start firing again as the guards recover from their initial shock, blaster bolts punching through helmets, faces and skulls to get at the juicy brains within.
Hack them down!
The third officer has enough sense to throw himself backwards, earning a death from my fusion cannon as I turn my left arm across my body for a moment before pointing it at an officer scrambling to leave the room and firing again. His upper right arm and most of his shoulder evaporate, the force of the blast sending him staggering sideways even as the heat and radiation cook every part his armour doesn't protect.
Hold their redoubt!
I lower my blade and raise my fusion cannon, lending its support to the drones as Citadelians fall all around me. As decapitation strikes go, this isn't going to be anything like as fatal to the Citadel's war effort as it would have been a few weeks ago. Too many smart Citadelians have moved into NCO positions for them to be quite as dependent on clear orders from on high. Still-

The last Citadelian in the room falls to a high powered purple death ray shot to the heart.

-I think this will disrupt higher order coordination quite nicely. Alright. Sinestro, match these armours and cybernetics to our records. Did we get all of the admirals?

No, Corpsman. Only one of these people holds that rank. The rest are most likely the Emperor's closest lackeys.

I nod, taking a few steps in the direction of the Citadel's bridge and kicking a corpse out of the way as I go.

Any of these the new model?

No, Corpsman. At least, I cannot detect any significant difference in their physiology. After a man is dead it is so much harder to find out what he is thinking.

Fair enough.

I stride towards the control centre, drones zipping in ahead of me, light from their weapons fire causing rippling waves of purple and orange to decorate the walls. There are a few screams and roars-. I pause, frowning. No Psions. There's usually one or two around the command section to keep an eye on their leading business partner. Odd. Though… Not an immediate concern.

I stride into the command centre, smiling slightly at the Citadelians dead at their stations. Hrrr. The things I could do with their external defence systems if their fleet was a little further away. Ah well. I raise my left arm, point it at the armour protecting their computer core and fire. The howling blast of hydrogen ions bore through the shielding and metal and incinerate the delicate computer system beyond. Local defence stations can still be operated manually of course, but that will put paid to their higher organisation.

I raise my left hand to my face. "Grayven reporting. The Emperor is dead and the Citadel's bridge is scoured of life."

"Komand'r here. Their teleportation hub won't be teleporting living soldiers this day."

"Nicely done. Move on to your secondary targets."

"Phyrel here. Admiral Zartac is dead by my hand!"

Commander of the Citadel's defence force. There are a few other admirals around, but he had seniority. "Good, but remember what I said about getting pinned down."

"I have not forgotten, and I have not yet had my fill of Citadel blood. Moving to secondary target."

"Koriand'r here. I have… Found something."

I frown. "What, you don't recognise the reactor? Don't worry about it. Just stick a mine on it and retreat. The bigger the explosion, the better."

"No, I recognise the reactor, but… It appears to have only recently been installed and my ring does not recognise the technology of the device it has replaced."

"Forward your scans to Hinon and move to your secondary target. If she can make anything of them we can reconsider."

"Very well."

I want to know and images form in my mind of my Lanterns in action. Four fail to respond; they're either dead or their rings have been destroyed. Power rings provide a massive boost in destructive potential but their users are still essentially rookies. A small squad of on-the-ball Citadelian marines with heavy weapons would be able to shoot them dead through their environmental shields fairly quickly, and the Mountain can't make two hundred hush tubes simultaneously. As to the rest… Vicarious ring telemetry shows me Citadelian ships drifting in space, command crews slain and primary generators going into forced shut down as a result of orange energy pulses.

Good show.

"You. Alien."

I look around. Internal communications?

"Are you addressing me?"

"Yes. You who would attempt to spoil the moment of my greatest triumph."

I take one last look around and then stride out of the command section. I could call for a hush tube, but I'm not under attack and I'd rather leave those for Lanterns who are. "It seems to me that it's very far from that."

"The ships here are barely a quarter of our full strength. Recall orders have already gone out, and you will find the rest of my ships to be far harder targets."

"I was planning on exterminating you people anyway." I shrug. "Saves me having to go looking for them."

Ring, transmit alert.

By your command.

"And who exactly am I talking to?"

"I am a god. An exceedingly vengeful god, upon whose territory you have intruded for the last time."

Really. "I'm from Apokolips. Have you any idea how little that narrows it down?" The voice sounds… Citadelian? Maybe a bit raspy? An old Citadelian? Could be, I suppose.

"Too bad. That's all that you're getting. And when you are dead I will wear your skin as a suit."

I squint theatrically. "Are you hitting on me?"

"Yes, that is precisely what I am doing. Now hold still."

Hold st-?

I dive across the room as the floor where I was standing erupts in a blast of golden light!

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th August
02:26 GMT -6

I roll awkwardly, coming to my feet in a crouch. Sinestro, any idea what that-?

Woophf!

I'm slammed against the ceiling as the floor beneath me explodes upwards, eddies of force running over my entire body and trying to squeeze. The ceiling deforms around me for a moment before the golden light appears to get a better grip on my body, then the deformation stops while the pressure on me intensifies. This actually -agh- hurts somewhat. I've dropped my daiklave-.

In answer to your half-asked question, Corpsman, it bears a more than passing resemblance to certain forms of high level telekinetic assault. Furthermore, my analysis of the patterns of force suggests that-.

Yes, I spotted that.

A ripping force bites into the armour protecting my right calf. It doesn't get very far before diminishing -nice to know that's still working- but I'm sure it will be back. I fortify my environmental shield, the tron lines of my armour glowing bright yellow in response. The pressure is slightly reduced. Okay, how to escape. High powered constant telekinetic attacks aren't something I've spent much time studying as telekines usually use intense one-directional forces or short disintegration bursts. Ah, let's try the gravity thing those VRUs were doing to block my tubes.

If you like, Corpsman. An area about two metres around my body begins to flicker with weak yellow light. Though I am unclear as to why you think- The telekinetic effect stutters. -that would.. work.
I am a god!
I use my ring's flight aura to pull me out of the weakened blast area, landing lightly on the floor and then shutting off the gravity disruptor.

Sinestro, message to the princesses. I'm under attack by a powerful telekine and would appreciate aid. Drones, seek and destroy my attacker.

Message sent, Corpsman. I'm still waiting-.

The telekinetic beam cuts out entirely and I transition to the far side of the feasting chamber before the next one blasts up through the floor in the spot I had been standing. Looks like destroying the central computer didn't completely destroy internal monitoring. Sinestro, get on that, would you?

Narrow yellow beams lash out, boring holes in apparently random points in the walls, ceiling and floors.

Dealt with, Corpsman. Though if the individual in question has telepathic abilities to complement his telekinetic ones they should still be able to launch attacks at your approximate location.

I tap the side of my goggles, checking on the location of my drones. The two that dropped down through the first hole haven't found anything of note as yet -though I can cross a dozen or so Citadelians off the hit list- and the ones moving through the corridors are getting slowed down by soldiers heading towards me.

In answer to your question, the person firing at me clearly didn't know how to improve their attack once they caught me. This implies an amateur, with abilities which are either newly activated or newly engineered. An amateur who was clearly getting feedback but wasn't sure what to do with it.

You used the gravity effect to disrupt their feedback. That's almost clever, Corpsman.

I have my moments.

Now, what's going on outside? New ships have come in, dropping out of FTL almost on top of their compatriots. FTL sensors? No, they'd have to stop to scan. They must have been getting a transmission from Citadel Complex and it's risky even so. Still, I admire the skill that sort of manoeuvring takes. And-.

Three of the new destroyers get into formation around an older cruiser, aim their primary guns and fire-. What?

Lantern deceased.

They're firing on their-. Of course they are, they outnumber us by a factor of ten thousand at least, it makes perfect sense. But to manage a shot like that, they'd-. They're using the other ships' internal sensors to know where to shoot. Automated telemetry sharing? Perhaps, but otherwise that cruiser just gave the Lantern's location knowing that they'd be shot to bits as a result. That's still a net win for the Citadel, but… Whaw.

I raise my left hand to my face as I jog over to where my daiklave fell, bending slightly to grab the grip with my right hand.

Corps wide.

By your command.

"My Corps, the Citadel's reserves have arrived and they are willing to shoot other Citadel ships if they get you as well." There's a.. faint vibrating noise from somewhere. "Remember: you can't kill them if you die first. Use construct armour to protect yourselves. Use your ring's sensors to detect enemy ships moving into position and use short FTL hops to avoid the places they're targeting. If the ship you're on is about to be overwhelmed, use a hush tube. Grayven out."

The noise cuts out for a moment, and then comes back with a vengeance. I can see the loose parts of deck around where the telekinetic blasts came from waving aroundtransition!

I reappear in the corridor a fraction of a second later, scanning my surroundings and shooting out the internal monitor devices even as I start running. I make it to the first T-junction as a cacophonous tearing and smashing noise erupts from the feasting room. Quick scan… Yeah, totally destroyed. The telekine gripped everything and smashed it together in the centre of the room. I'm not.. sure what that would have done to me, but I doubt that it would have felt pleasant. Still, clearly the work of someone not at one with their abilities. Or perhaps they need to charge them up?

There's a flare of light a short distance in front of me and I don't even hesitate to bring my daiklave up. The first Citadelian teleporting in hasn't even fully materialised before my blade slices through his upper torso, my shoulder striking the chest of a second while my scything blade hits anoth-.

Gah!

Gravity disruptor! Cease your vexations!

The yellow corona forms once more and again the telekinetic fields weaken. Movemovemove!

Behind me the corridor crunches down in sections, the sounds of breaking and smashing reverberating through the metal in the surrounding sections. Or possibly those sections relying on this one for their own stability are being broken in turn. Air pressure's staying the same so I don't think that Citadel Complex is seriously holed… Yet. Teleporters. Komand'r wouldn't lie about something like that, and she wouldn't stop smashing or killing until she was certain. With primary teleportation down, the Citadelians should be limited to inter-base station transportation… Unless teleporting in from a ship. So the Citadel Complex isn't jamming any longer… And I can't take advantage of that because I'm not using teleporters.

Someone's being either unusually clever or unusually lucky.

"Koriand'r to Grayven."

A little way ahead of me my drones are just finishing blasting through a bulkhead into… Yes, that's the entertainment district, isn't it?

"Go ahead." Cold gun.

The Citadelian soldiers gathered on the far side of the bulkhead instinctively step back, bracing for my assault. The ones nearest me are in full power armour, protected by armour and force fields and carrying a variety of weapons. The cold gun taking the fusion cannon's position on my left arm tracks from left to right, pale blue light playing over the whole gang of them with the cooling effect turned up to the maximum. Death is instantaneous, power armour insulation not designed to cope with supercooling. The few shots that come back my way are easily absorbed by my armour.

"Hinon believes that the location I uncovered was a containment vessel for an immensely powerful telekine. A Human named Adam Blake took part in Tamaran's attack here during the last war. He was-."

"I know who Adam Blake is." I charge forward, daiklave smashing the Citadelians' front ranks into bloody ice cubes. "Do you have any idea what I've done to piss him off?"

"After so long in captivity, he may not be in his right mind."

Or he could have been reprogrammed. "Understood. Thank you." The rear ranks of Citadelians were somewhat protected from my shots, firing through their dead comrades. The shots hurt slightly, but they're pinpricks. Unless their fleet fires on the Citadel or Blake starts shooting me again, I might well be in the clear.

Then the entertainment district's lights fade as a golden explosion erupts from the centre.

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th August
02:31 GMT -6

Buildings crack, crumble and crumple as the gold light is swiftly consumed by an eye-ache inducing sphere of total blackness. Buildings near the thing are totally consumed, breaking up and being sucked into the void with violent ferocity. Naturally, I have the presence of mind to reinforce my environmental shield as local gravity goes haywire. One g down and about..?

Fifteen, Corpsman. From here at least.

Fifteen towards a telekine who apparently just discovered his ability to teleport with black fucking holes. Detritus -some of it living- flies upwards towards the deranged Captain Comet. No reason for them to wear flight packs inside the Citadel Complex, I suppose. On the other hand, a mere fifteen or so times my own body weight is nothing for my environmental shield and flight aura. In fact, thanks to the rings it isn't even giving me inner ear trouble.

Impressive lack of screaming from the Citadelians. I mean, the ones in full armour I could understand just shutting down external speakers but quite a lot are lightly armoured due to being off duty. I raise my cold gun and train it on the centre of the anomaly…

Sinestro, is it mucking about with space time in a way liable to give me a headache later?

With fifteen gravities? Hardly. A few seconds at most.

Glad to hear it. Any advice? Drones, disperse and fire the moment you have a target.

Shoot true, shoot often, Corpsman.

Ah, fuck it. I swap my cold gun for a singularity beam projector. It's not like I was trying to keep Citadel Complex in one piece anyway. Now, I'm not sure exactly how aware Blake is of his environment when he's doing that -or how much he cares- but I think it would probably be a good idea if I kept moving. There isn't really anything like 'open air' -we are inside a space station after all- but there are open areas between the building clusters. I take off and fly… Normal directions don't really work here… I fly to my right, anticlockwise with Blake as the centre of the clock face.

"Help me! Help me!"

The shouts draw my attention to a building above me, where a Rashashoonian man is desperately trying to maintain his grip on the edge of a building while Blake's singularity does its level best to pull him free. He's seen me and he's doing his best to shout in my direction without risking changing his grip. There isn't anything else for him to hold on to, and certainly nothing between him and Blake if his grip slips.



I can almost hear Mother Box pinging at me without her even needing to be here. Which I suppose was her aim.

Ugh, fine. Sinestro, let me know if Blake starts doing anything else.

As you wish, Corpsman. I turn away from Blake, flying upwards towards the hanging man. Though I would point out that an active battle zone is a poor place for inattention.

I'm not saying that you're wrong. I'm just saying that while it's better to be feared than loved-

I reach the man and grab him around his torso, including him in my environmental shield's flight aura before heading towards what looks like a more intact building.

-you have to avoid being hated. I want the people of Vega to be at least a little afraid of me, but I also want them to regard me as the person they want in charge. And occasionally that's going to mean saving a poor unfortunate-

I check the far side of the door and then hack the lock and throw it open. A handful of… I don't recognise that species, cower on their new 'floor' as I deposit the Rashashoonian man inside and then close the door and return my attention to the Blake Hole.

-like that. Would you have gotten a fraction as far as you did without a history of good conduct?

I don't think you'll have to strain yourself to be better than the Citadel, Corpsman.

No, but-.

Corpsman, something's happen-.

The blackness parts, momentarily giving me a glimpse of a figure in dull, sandy-yellow armour. Then a beam of black-.

Gaaaaghr!

Transition!

I appear downwards and right of my former position, right hand feeling gingerly for the bloody hole in the left side of my torso. Around me I see beams of purple and orange light as the drones open fire, though from where I am now I can't see… That wasn't Blake. It looked like a slightly old Citadelian. One of their veterans, perhaps? Ugh, the wound hurts but at least it wasn't radion this time. I should recover before too long.
Heal.
And I need to keep-

A black lance strikes a drone somewhere to my left.

-out of sight. Sinestro, why are the drones being ineffectual?

An image forms in my mind. Blaster bolts fly towards the Citadelian, only to be blocked by telekinetically propelled debris. They fire faster and he throws swirling scrap heaps of the stuff around to shield himself.

Alright, fair enough, but purple death rays should pass right through it.

Another image, purple rays lashing out, only to deflect away before they hit him. How..? Gravitational distortion, I can see how the background blurs out of alignment near him. Recalculate firing positions and keep moving.

Alright, time for shoot and scoot. I don't bother moving out of my cover as I aim my left forearm mounted singularity projector directly at him. If this gets blocked by something then the resulting x-ray burst should do something unpleasant to exposed flesh. Plot transition route to… Over there. Fire and move.

I reappear, tensing up as I wait to see-. My former piece of cover is vaporised, the surrounding area being melted by the released radiation. That hole… It's not a beam, it just stops where he-. Oh, that is bullshit.

"I know you're here, alien! How do you like the power of a god?!"

I like it fine, I'm just not so keen on you having it too.

Alright Sinestro, why didn't that work?

It appears that his control of local gravity effects is sufficiently precise to prevent gravity-based attacks instinctively, Corpsman. A most difficult opponent.

"Raaaagh!"

Though not one without his own limitations.

I'm about to query him out loud, but the image appears without me asking. One purple death ray gets deflected but another fires at the same point at the same time but at an extreme angle. It looks like it should miss, but the distortion causes it to bend towards the Citadelian instead. He's clearly tough, I'll give him that, but that did hurt him.

Three loud bangs and I risk peeking out to see the wreckage of the drones that made those shots. Okay, light speed shots, and I have to let the drones know what I'm doing so they can line up their shots at the same time. Manageable. Alright. I replace my singularity projector with a cold gun, because you never know when you're going to get lucky-.

Wait, a Citadelian calling himself a god? Is that the First up there? A bit academic, but… Where's he been hiding?

Never mind. I scan. He's facing away, perhaps trying to work out where the other drones are. The debris field is awkward, but if I wait for an opening…

There.

Fire.

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th August
02:34 GMT -6

And don't stick around to check.

I appear inside a torn open public house, swiftly ducking down out of sight. Various sorts of alcoholic drink have escaped from smashed glasses and pooled on the new floor. Fortunately, both patrons and slaves are entirely absent. I wait, listening for a shout of pain or any other sign that I just achieved anything. Nothing. But wouldn't it just be perfect if killing him didn't undo whatever he's done to futz about with gravity.

Sinestro?

Negative impact, Corpsman. Your shot was deflected into one of his debris barriers and it appears that the two purple death rays only managed to hit his armour.

Show me.

In my mind's eye I see the shots… Both hit his torso. Odd. I may be misjudging his size, but… I generate a construct representation of him, showing a normal Citadelian in armour like what he's wearing. Now, the beams hit here and here, and he didn't appear to react… The man must be shrivelled up like a raisin. Alter targeting protocols to incorporate new data.

Unfortunate news, Corpsman. He just used wide area effect attacks to destroy your death ray drones.

Not the blaster-equipped ones?

I think he's rather written those off as non-threats.

Okay, and with the whole station to choose from he's effectively got infinite debris for protection. How is he powering this for so long? A normal telekinetic would have had an aneurysm by now. No, no, not relevant. New plan. I generate a wide barrel coilgun construct and take a plasma converter out of subspace. Ugh. No, the effort involved in modifying it will make it far too slow. I doubt that the First Citadelian will hang around indefinitely. I dismiss the construct and take the converter in my right hand. Transition-throw-activate, then have the blaster drones fire through the resulting gap in his defences? Sounds like a pl-.

The pub is torn apart, converted for a fraction of a second into debris and then plasma before being converted to hard radiation. I'm being pressed and twisted and torn in every direction, my blood seeping through my skin as my divine physiology tries to hold me in one piece as gravity tries to tear me apart. Hold! Hold! Hold me together!

I…

I…

Bgrh. I'm lying in a pile of wreckage, my mouth burning-. Pffagh! Metal, it's molten metal. Ugh, get up!

"Still alive, alien?"

I get my right hand under me, setting off a flare of pain where the telekinetic beam cut through my chest. Not.. fully healed then. I fall, my legs scrabbling at the broken metal beneath me in an attempt to get moving. Sinestro, what did I miss?

Sinestro?

Oh fucking fuck. My yellow ring is still on my finger, but there are tiny cracks all over the surface of the signet. Today has not been my day for keeping the voices in my head in one piece.

"I'm not sure I'd call that living. Though I do find it fitting that your last moments should be spent grovelling in the dirt."

I get my right hand under me and manage to push myself up, craning my neck to try and spot the First. The lights have come up a bit and.. I.. think gravity is nearly normal again. Otherwise I would have fallen towards him when I blacked out. Okay, lasers, need lasers. Send out filaments, point at him from different… Different directions…

The weak and pale filaments form and then fade.

Oh… Come on. Give… Agh. Give me lasers!

Thick bands of orange light shoot left, right and up as orange surges through the tron lines of my armour. Which is surprisingly intact considering what just happened. I make momentary eye contact with the First as the lasers fire, the first lashing out at his face to be turned aside by his distortion field. Then the second fires, the beam bent back towards his face and-.

And being bent away by the second layer of his defence.

Fuck, not viable. trans-.

"I think not, alien." Arrrgh! I'm enveloped in a gold-white aura and yanked into the air, my arms pulled out to my sides. "I thought that I recognised constructs. Did the Guardians see my forces and decide that the old pacts no longer mattered!? Do they fear me so much that they sent you to spoil the day of my greatest triumph!?"

Transitigahh! The gold glow around my right hand just… Ah. It's flopping. Did he just.. break every bone?

"Stay with me now, alien."

I shudder, shaking my head as he comes closer. We're about forty metres apart now. Ah. Okay, if I try and use the orange ring he'll see the glow and do something to break my concentration. Or just kill me. Daiklave's gone… Somewhere. Remaining drones can't pierce his debris fields. I've still got the Sword of the Fallen, but… No way I can actually stab him with it.

Why hasn't he killed me yet?

Ring, message to everyone. Help requested.

By your command.

"I imagine that you're wondering why I haven't killed you yet.."

"'Oo wah'ed-" Ow, my mouth is not in a good state. "Can't… Wear my.. skin if you've torn it up."

"When I heard that an unknown alien had claimed the bounty on the Beast, I could not help but wonder: what sort of being could achieve such a thing? Who could kill such a legendary terror?" He comes a little closer, I'd say twenty metres at most. Throwing range, if I could move my arms and he didn't have a spatial distortion protecting him. "Do you know who I am?"

"I think… You are the First Citadelian, clone-father of all he surveys." There's something… I spit, a wad of bloody phlegm falling from my mouth. "I thought you were dead."

He smiles, then the golden light around my left ring fingergah! My finger and the ring it bore part company with my hand.

"I lived on, my body sustained by the mechanisms of Citadel Complex and my mind enhanced by its computers, linked to the implants of every Citadelian. But no longer! My youngest sons have no need for me to oversee their every thought! So I can fight myself. I've-" He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment "-so missed-."

The glow cuts out. Gravity takes us both immediately, and I just about manage to bring my arms up to shield my face before slamming into one of the more intact precinct walls. I bounce off a little, fall further and agh, and catch my left hand at an awkward angle and start tumbling down the sloping side. As I go head over heels I catch a glimpse of the First. I think he's trying to activate his armour's flight systems but there was so much debris over his head that he can't get it to fire up before getting hit again and wouldn't have anywhere to fly to if it did. Couldn't happen to a nicer dwoughah!

Some sort of.. decorative spine has arrested my progress, catching me across the stomach. Agh. I grab hold of it with both hands, ignoring the pain. I've got no idea why that happened, and I need-. There he is. The First crashes arse-first into the ground level, getting his arms up just fast enough to keep the rubble out of his face.

Ow.

I pull-. I pull harder, the glutinous metal that was sealing the Sword to my chest mostly coming free. A few deep breaths and I push myself off the spine, twisting as I slide and managing to get my feet pointing forwards as I fall over the lip of the roof. I land on my feet, stumble and fall onto my face. Up. I rise, getting a firm grip on the Sword with my left hand just as the debris pile starts to shift.

I've got a second legend to kill today.

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th August
I've rather lost track

"Yaaeyh."

There's a small rubbleslide as the First manages to get his left forearm free, his head still largely obscured by fallen material. I've got no idea how heavy that material is or how much power assistance his-.

I stumble, my right foot sliding unexpectedly back and causing me to fall to my knees. I throw my left hand forward to arrest my fall and have a moment of panic as the blade of the Sword of the Fallen comes close to nicking my right hand. I don't know exactly what that would do to me -having only used it to inflict lethal wounds- but I'm not eager to find out. If the First is only as strong and as tough as a normal Citadelian then even now I should just be able to beat him to death… But most Citadelians don't have epic level telekinesis.

Through the cracks in my armour my blood is seeping out almost constantly. On Earth, small wounds -even lots of them- would have healed by now, but there just isn't enough magic on the Citadel for the mana infuser to work with. I'm not dead so I'm clearly getting some kind of bonus for being a god, but it's far below what I'm used to. And all of the purple ray drones were destroyed. Ugh. No, it should be fine: the princesses have a couple each. I'll kill the First, find the ring and…

I don't even know how the battle outside is going.

I rock back gingerly onto my haunches, hold my ruined right hand parallel to the ground in case I fall again and get a firm grip on the Sword with my left hand. And up. Slightly.. unsteady. Think I've answered the question of whether or not gods can get concussion.

"Raaaaagh!"

I focus my eyes on the First again as the rubble pile shifts in response to his efforts to free himself. A moment later he spots me, his face screwing up as he glowers-.

Blouegh! Owowow! And down again! A red.. beam of some kind blasted out of the rubble and hit me in the chest! Feels… Another couple of deep breaths and I carefully put the Sword down on the ground and try touching near the point of impact with my right hand. Feels… Sticky. Burns, then? It doesn't hurt all that much more than it did a moment ago but I've got so much pain coming from everywhere that I'm not sure that I'd notice. Okay, elbows firmly situated..? Yes. And sit up. And wait for the dizziness to pass.

"Still alive, alien!?"

"If you.. call this.. living."

Left fist on the ground for stability, carefully minding the Sword. The First is still more or less buried, though his left arm now has a great enough range of motion to try lifting pieces of debris off his right side. Perhaps the power assistance on that side has been damaged more?

"Oh, don't worry. You won't have to wait for long."

"Maybe if you hadn't-" I draw my legs in and lean forwards, semi-falling into a crawling position. "-killed so many of your own people with that black hole thing-" Right foot down again, left foot… Wait for the dizziness and up. "-there would be people around to help you."

"Maybe if you had followers, you wouldn't be on your own. Agh!" He tries flinging a sheet of metal at me but doesn't have the strength or the range of motion. It clangs to the ground about three metres away, bounces once and then lies still.

And I'm upright and from the mess I'm leaving on the floor I really hope that was a holdout shot and not a proper onboard weapon system. The pain is receding from my extremities and I'm starting to feel… Cold. And that's not good. Alright. One foot carefully in front of the other. Keep your weight centred. Good. Good.

"Meah!" There's some sort of red pulse from the First, and the pile of rubble surrounding him expands for a moment and then falls in on itself. "RAgh!" With an almighty shove he pushes aside the material on the near side and manages a few clumsy steps into a nearby wall. His face looks whole and undamaged, though I don't think that his eyes are focusing quite right. On the other hand I'm bleeding heavily.

"If you… Surrender, I'll ensure that you get a fair trial."

"Surrender to me…" I can't tell whether he's breathing heavily or not, but his armour appears to have momentarily locked up. "And once I've finished pissing on your corpse I won't shit on it as well."

There's a jerk from him, and with a flicker of the three red lights at his waist he regains motive control and pulls away from the wall. He's breathing through his mouth, though with his armour forming a rigid frame I've got no idea if he's feeling as tired as I am or not.

"I fear that I must decline your generous offer." I raise my right arm into a guard position -I can't use the hand but the forearm armour is fine- and keep my left slightly lower. With a little luck he'll just assume that the Sword is a regular blade.

"Die!" The central red circle on his armour flickers brilliantly, then dies with a small puff of smoke. "Vapour-brained eunuch-faced Psions!"

"They gave you black hole teleportation." I take a step forwards, feeling slightly more confident-. And I wait for the world to stop spinning. "They didn't do too badly."

There's a clank from his armour, and he checks the range of motion in his arms and upper body. The lower torso appears to have locked but the rest appears to be in full working order. Okay. I lean forward slightly, because my mind is working rather better than my body at the moment and I really think that receiving a charge will be easier than making one myself. He takes a couple of breaths, his eyes fixed on mine.

Then he triggers his oh shit his flight system and flies at me!

He slams into me at speed, knocking me off my feet and slamming us both to the ground! "Raagh!" His face is centimetres from mine and I try to headbutt him but his flight system is still on and the power of it has him knocking me aside to his left and flying a couple of steps past me. I stagger back, slamming painfully into a wall and slumping against it for support. Ow. He staggers and shuts the system down, then reaches down to his right leg and lifts it around so that he faces me again. I raise my left arm as he surges forward once more, trying to cut him with the Sword. He blocks my arm and I lose my grip on the Sword, then ugh, he slams into me again, raising his left arm to try and reach for my face!

I raise my right arm, but without the ability to grip I can't do much more than shove my forearm at his face. Deprived of the ability to see me he grasps blindly, presumably trying to reach my eyes. Closer… Closer… I crane my neck forwards as far as I can and bite, crunching down on the middle finger of his three-fingered hand! I exert myself, the metal deforming and breaking between my teeth.

"Uuuuuuuuugh!"

I whip my head to the right, bone cracking as the last phalange snaps off in my mouth.

"Agh!" He pulls his right arm back for a moment, then his damaged hand comes across and grabs my-

"AAAAAGH!"

-broken hand! He grins, then pulls back his right fist-.

Overestimated how distracted I was by the pain. My left hand darts forward, striking him in the side of the head. Not my best punch, but then neither of us are in the best condition. His head recoils, and as it moves back to a central position his eyes briefly glaze. I take a moment to aim, then I punch him again, causing his head to jerk back and his grip on my right hand to weaken. I tug -aagh- it free, then reach for his head. Grabbing the top of it I pull him right, pulling him off balance and ramming him face-first into the wall besides me.

And then I lose my grip on his head.

"Uuuugh…"

His eyes roll back, and he slumps as far against the wall as his armour will allow him.

Great. I'm technically mobile, but I'm about ready to collapse myself. No communications equipment… I could try calling the ring but I've never been much good at that. I suppose there's the analogue option.

"Hello! Anyone around?!"

Bit of a risk, but if there were squads of regular Citadelians around then they would have already intervened. Hopefull-.

"Grayven!?" I look up and see the orange glowing form of Koriand'r flying through the skies of the former entertainment district.

"Down here!"

She stops in the air and orientates on my position before flying straight at me, green plasma balling around her hands. "Shall I kill that one for you?"

Should she?



"No. Make him safe, but leave him alive. And find the orange ring I was using." I weakly push myself away from the wall. "And what have you been up to?"

"I found Adam Blake. He was attached to a Psion machine. Controller Hinon was able to explain how to disconnect him."

Ooh marvellous. "Let me guess: it was designed to remote control his abilities."

"It.. may have been."

"We'll need to send Blake himself to a specialist hospital. But first: the ring."