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

[Mr Zoat]

2nd September
09:06 GMT -5

Mister Swift manages -with some effort- to push himself into a sitting position, all the while grinning like a loon. He's recovered his glasses and they dangle loosely from his left hand while he wipes his eyes with his right.

"Oh, my word. Hahaha-. No, no, mustn't start again."

He makes a sort of choking-gulping noise, ducking his head slightly to avoid seeing anything that might set him off.

Circe gives me a puzzled look. "Was that supposed to happen?"

No. "I was about to ask you that."

She gives her head a small shake. "I was quite careful to merely extract the dwarf. I felt nothing which suggested-."

"There some kinda problem here?"

A dishevelled man dressed and coiffed like a detective from a seventies television-. Sinestro, who is-?

Detective Sergeant Matthew O'Dare, Corpsman.

"Matthew! Matthew!" Mister Swift scrambles to his feet and with an unsteady gait walks towards the man. "Wonderful news!"

"Oh yeah?" Detective O'Dare takes a moment to size me up, his eyes moving briefly over Circe and Mister Culp before returning to Mister Swift. "What's that then?"

"I don't know!" Mister Swift lays both his hands on Detective O'Dare's shoulders. "But it's really good!"

"O-kay. Dickie, if you were anyone else I'd ask if you'd been drinkin'."

"No! No. No no. Quite… Quite the opposite. It's like a veil has been lifted from my temperament and I can finally see the world for the wonder it is!" Mister Swift steps back, arms falling loosely to his sides as he stares upwards at the skyscrapers around us.

Aah. That might-.

Detective O'Dare glares at me. "Did you do somethin' to him? And who's the midget?"

I half-turn to where Mister Culp is sprinting across the park, then grab him with a construct glove and pull him back. "This is Simon Culp. He was possessing Mister Swift, and may have been influencing his actions for some time."

"And you know that how?"

"I'm a god. When someone's motives aren't their own-" I take my goggles out of subspace and tap them with my left hand. "-they don't look the same."

"But of course." Circe nods to herself with a minor huff of irritation. "It's obvious. So many mortal supervillains waste excessive amounts of time in revenging themselves on their foes. The way they were interfaced would only allow him to take control some of the time, but if he were prepared to reduce that then he would be able to exert constant influence."

Mister Swift's cane shoots after him on a wave of shadow sludge as he strides towards Pyle Avenue. He spins as he catches it, his greatcoat morphing into a tailcoat as he does so. "I love to laugh! Loud and long and cleeeeeeear!"

I watch him go. "So rather than use Mister Swift's godlike power for something productive, Mister Culp focused on making him feel miserable instead. Which he is now not feeling, perhaps for the first time since the Second World War."

"And I'd've gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for you and your stupid bitch-whore girlfriend!"

Violet lights dance around Circe's right hand as she turns to where Mister Culp hangs in the air from my construct. "What a curious idea. I've never made a Slug-man before."

I gently push her hand down. "Why.. don't.. we just hand this grubby little miscreant over to the lawful authorities." I raise my eyebrows at Detective O'Dare. "I'm reasonably confident that possession is illegal in Maryland?"

"Not specifically, but controlling someone by the use of super powers is." He takes a pair of handcuffs off his belt and approaches Mister Culp, who-. My goodness, who curses him in no uncertain terms. "Mister Culp, you're under arrest. Grayven, I don't know exactly what's going on here, but I don't think Dickie should be wandering around on his own."

I lean to the side and watch Mister Swift as he prances up to a flower stand and grabs a bucket of roses. "No problem. We'll keep an eye on him."

"Be sure you do. Dickie's got a lot of friends 'round these parts." I drop Mister Culp at his feet and the Detective gives the man his full attention. "Mister Culp. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Do you understand?"

"…monkey-sodomising pederast!" Mister Culp focuses his ire on the Detective. "And you!"

"Do you understand!"

"I will shove my hand into your throat and pull out your still beating heart!"

"I'm gunna take that as a 'yes'. Second part: anything you do say may…"

Circe and I proceed in the direction of Pyle Avenue ourselves. "Where is he going?"

"Not sure." I watch him step into an alley and disappear into the shadows. Ring?

Subject 'Richard Swift' has appeared in 'Opal Gem', a jewellery shop in Fattata Plaza.

Okay, I'm going to say 'hush tube' this time, because this is getting str-.

Subject 'Richard Swift' has appeared in the Central Precinct of the Opal City Police Department.

Huh. I wonder why-? And Circe's gone. Talking to your power ring in your head is not a free action. Ring-.

I'm trying not to feel ignored, Corpsman.

Oh. Sorry. Hush tube to where he is.

Certainly, Corpsman.

The tube opens in front of me and I pass through at an amble.

"…darling, the light of my life!"

Mister Swift is kneeling at the front of a briefing room full of police officers, the bewildered officer giving the day's assignments warding off a shadow hand which keeps trying to thrust the flowers he purchased into her chest. I think she's blushing slightly.

"I would like it very much if you would agree to marry me."

He opens the ring box and looks up at her longingly.

"Richard, are you drunk?"

There's a collective groan from the watching police officers.

"Never more sober or sane. At least not for the past seventy years. I am in fact completely serious."

She goldfishes for a moment, then looks at the smiling police officers, then at me and… Circe disguised herself as an officer.

"Right, EVERYONE OUT!"

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd September
09:18 GMT -5

"…thought you were doing bursting into the briefing room like that!?"

Mister Swift glances mournfully at his ring case. "I thought I was fairly clear. I love-."

"Stop!" Captain O'Dare holds up her hands, palms facing her over-amorous paramour. "Just… Stop. I'm-. We didn't-." She pulls herself together a little. "This wasn't supposed to-."

I step out of the hush tube next to her. "Sorry to-"

"Jesus!"

"-barge in." I'm not. "Mister Swift?" He tears his eyes away from Captain O'Dare and I hand him a slip of paper. "If you're interested. I'll see myself out."

"Ah. Thank you."

A glare from the Captain. "Yes. Get out."

I raise my right hand to an invisible hat brim, then step backwards through the hush tube and to a room adjacent to the briefing room which contains a remarkable number of police officers who are completely occupied with their work. The one with 'Circe' on her name tag stands up and walks over to me. "That was interesting. Where to next?"

"Fawcett City Prison. The supermax unit." Sinestro.

Interesting choice, Corpsman. Hush tube available.

We link arms again as we walk through the hole in the air, appearing in the newly rebuilt part of the prison.

2nd September
08:19 GMT -6

They had to do a good deal of work on the place after Ishmael Gregor attacked it to kill his literal predecessor. Our next candidate was transferred here because they could contain him using the same systems as were put in place for the late Mister Karnes. In the event that he ever becomes compos mentis again they can try him for his crimes against the city and its residents. In the mean time he can't hurt anyone if he thrashes about.

I lead Circe in the direction of his cell. She's smiling about.. something.

"I trust that our sojourn to Opal City was acceptably interesting to you?"

"Oh yes." She nods. "It's been a while since I've seen a man on that end of that conversation."

Yes, because we're all deceitful libidinists. "He managed better than I did. My former girlfriend tried to stab me when I proposed to her."

"Really?"

I shrug. "It was a normal knife, so it wouldn't have hurt me physically."

"What did you do to deserve that?"

"I forgot to remind her that I always planned to betray our allies shortly before I did it. She'd convinced herself that I'd changed my mind." Actually… I should probably talk to her again. Just to be clear… Where we stand.

"Was she fond of them?"

"Maybe some. Only one of the inner circle. But an awful lot of people got killed, so it's rather hard for me to be sure if there was one death or other she was particularly perturbed by." Though quantity has a quality all of its own… "I think it was more me kicking out the foundations of her world that offended her. Ah! Here we are."

I bring us to a halt outside a heavy titanium vault door. Through my Apokoliptian goggles I can clearly see the threads of Shazam's magic bound into the thing, though the really powerful stuff is focused on making sure that the outer pieces are never needed. If the occupant wakes up and starts hammering on this then it would only be a matter of time before he broke out. And the only thing that could prevent him escaping would be if the Marvels were alerted.

Circe pulls her hand free as she reaches forward to touch the door. "Who-? No, I recognise this. Order magic. Nabu?"

"Shazam."

"Hm." She steps back. "Do you want to forcibly release whoever is inside? It seems somewhat contrary to your stated aims."

"No." I take my identification paperwork out of subspace as the prison's governor approaches us down the corridor, along with a small entourage of riot-equipped prisoner guards. "I'm going to ask nicely."

Glad to know that the DMA stuff I sat through yesterday was worth something. I was also quite impressed with how quickly this was set up. A quick reminder of exactly who it was that brought him down in the first place was all it took to arrange a meeting through entirely legitimate channels.

The governor nods at me, but frowns at Circe. "DMA didn't say anything about two operatives coming in here."

"My colleague is a civilian consultant. Given that the wizard Shazam is also technically a civilian consultant, I thought that there was an… Acceptance that skilful magic users were entirely too rare to fuss too much about their paperwork. In.. any case, I am empowered to bring along anyone I consider-."

"Fine, whatever. What exactly are you planning to do with this bastard? He hasn't said a thing since they shoved him in there."

"My understanding is that he has so far been ruled unfit to stand trial."

"A technicality."

"Actually, it isn't. I'm no soft touch, but I draw the line well before executing one man for another's crimes merely because they look similar."

This appears to baffle him. "What? He's a look-alike?"

"No." I point to the door. "Might we continue this inside? I'd like my companion to begin work as soon as possible."

"No. Look, I… I respect you, I like what you've done for this country. But my sister, her husband and their three kids got killed by that bastard. So either you explain the whole thing to me or you can shove that Federal warrant up your ass." He folds his arms across his chest.

"Okay. I can respect that. Briefly, then. A very long time ago the wizard Shazam empowered a mortal to act as his champion. Prince Teth Adam of Kahndaq. They had a falling out and Shazam killed him, then bound his soul to his corpse so that he couldn't visit his gods in the afterlife and appeal the decision. About five years ago, a man named Theodore Adam visited his tomb, ritually murdered two archaeologists and bound Teth Adam's soul to a scarab pendant in order to hijack the power the wizard bestowed upon his former champion. He then rampaged on and off for the intervening period until finally being brought down in Louisiana by yours truly, something I achieved by destroying the pendant and so allowing Teth Adam to sabotage Theodore Adam's efforts."

"So you know how to remove.. this.. Theodore Adam's power?"

"Yes, in theory. However… In this case my preference here is to allow my colleague to ascertain the possibility of 'suppressing' him."

"'Suppressing'? What'd'you mean?"

"Locking him inside his own body and allowing the hero whose powers he stole to use his body instead."

"Is that legal?"

"Executing two people who share a body isn't. Leaving him as he is results in a constant risk of the wrong soul winning and killing more people. Imprisoning a serial killer in his own body is unusual, but doesn't result in much of a change from his current status of indefinite detention. Enabling a secondary personality to use the body during that time…" I shrug. "I don't believe that there's any relevant law on the subject. As someone directly affected, how would you feel about it?"

He looks away from me as he considers the matter. "I don't think I'd believe it. I know.. weird stuff like that can happen, but… I saw the bodies."

I nod. "Makes sense. How about if you observed what we're going to do directly?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd September
09:45 GMT -5

First time I've seen Mister Adam since the fight in Louisiana. They've clearly made some effort to keep him clean; the mud that coated him as we crashed through the swamp at speed isn't there any longer and he hasn't become covered in dust or anything. His cuts and bruises have healed, but they would have done by now even at normal rates so that doesn't indicate anything about how active his powers are. The mundane chains binding him are thick titanium and the enchanted ones appear to be… Copper? Hm, but I think I can guess which set would survive longer if he actually decided to try to leave.

"Mrugnhrhrruuh."

The guards tense for a moment, each taking a half-step back towards the doorway. That took a bit of getting used to as well; he isn't exactly comatose. He doesn't have one mind that isn't working quite right, he has two separate minds which are competing for control of his body. So far, prison records show that no momentary advantage one or other has been able to wrestle has resulted in more than two semi-coherent words. And no one here speaks Ancient Kahndaqi. The downside is that it's clear that one side could win and that if they did the prison would have no warning until he ripped his chains off.

"I'm ready." Circe lowers herself into a cross-legged seating position… About a metre off the ground behind Mister Adam's head. "Grayven, you should sit near to his feet."

I nod, walking around from his side to the indicated position. "Any special reason?"

"Because if he wakes up hostile then he will attack you first."

"Heh." She's not wrong, and I probably am best positioned to tank his attacks… And she'd probably need a few moments to access combat-useful spells. "Fair enough." I take a chair out of subspace and plonk myself down.

"And you're sure this won't mess around with Shazam's spells..? What did you say your name was again?"

Circe huffs, closing her eyes for a moment presumably to avoid the governor seeing her roll them. "These are spells of containment designed to keep a very well defined entity in one place. They would react to another champion whom Shazam had empowered, but unless you've denied me some fairly pertinent information that does not include you. As long as we do not attempt to release him while inside, we should not be in any danger."

"Yeah, but-."

"There is no better explanation I can give a man with your total ignorance of the arcane. Either accept my expertise or go running to Captain Marvel."

He looks at me. "I wouldn't have brought her if I didn't have every confidence in her abilities."

He takes a deep breath. "Alright. Where do you want me?"

"It doesn't matter. Your soul is so weak that it's impossible that you'd make any difference to the spell."

"Excuse m-?"

Circe's eyes glow a faint grey and hands made of stone lance upwards from the floor, grabbing the governor's arms and legs and firmly planting him on the ground. "There." She smiles at me. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Your nature as a New God makes it.. difficult for me to draw you in. You will need to unfocus yourself a little as I cast. And you will probably be able to break out as an act of will."

I nod, taking a deep breath and stilling my mind. Heed Your Loyal Servants.

Circe raises her hands, purple gas flowing and billowing across the room and obscuring our surroundings. "Hear me O Phantasos, and guide us to the realm where these two do battle."

Hah, yes. No entreaty, no offerings and not even a 'please'. That's how you deal with jumped up Elementals. Just as she described, I feel a slight tug as a new battleground opens up.. somewhere nearby. I reach out with my spirit to grasp-.

The floor, walls and ceiling are grey metal, coloured red by the dull light issuing forth from a thousand towers. Most of the wall in front of me is taken up by a window, while behind me I know there stands a doorway. Circe stands behind me, her body radiant and ethereal. My own… It is as if my armour had replaced every part of my flesh, grey skin vanished before black metal. I actually look a little like Gonzo's true form, but… More.

"Where are we?"

The governor on the other hand is almost entirely immaterial. I can just about make out his face, but the rest of him is visible only as a vague shimmer in the air.

"An interpretation of what the two minds here are experiencing." She floats forward towards the window. "What do you see?"

"Apokolips." I take a look at the towers visible through the window, but I can't precisely place them. I take a few steps forwards and look down at-. "The Furies' training arena. I see two.. men, one in a kilt and the other in loose trousers. They're fighting barehanded, with more than Human speed and strength."

One is clearly Theodore Adam, and the other… Looks Arabic. Teth Adam, presumably. I watch as he turns aside a kick from Theodore and then grabs for his ankle. Theodore uses that as an opportunity to twist in the air in a way which normal physics would make impossible, his leg flashing past Teth's guard and striking him hard enough on the forehead to send him flying backwards, dust billowing outwards as his body skids across the ground.

"The same, but the arena's Roman. How about you?"

Circe floats a little closer to me. "Well, there they are. What do you intend to do?"

"Where does the
bouncing ball land? Hit
with your snout!"

My daiklave appears in my right hand as I launch myself at the window, passing through it with no difficulty and hurtling through the air towards the combatants. I extend my left hand and the ground leaps up to meet me, cushioning my landing as I drop into the centre of the arena.

Theodore watches me with fury in his gaze, while Teth Adam considers me more dispassionately. "What manner of creature are you?"

"I'm the one who destroyed the scarab. Want a hand?"

"I would be grateful."

"Rrragh!"

Theodore crosses the ground between us in three bounding leaps, right fist blatantly telegraphing his punch. I crouch slightly, pushing off with my right leg and timing my strike so that my left fist smashes into the side of his outstretched arm!

"nYaaagH!" Strike Down the Unworthy!

I hear his arm snap as his body slams into me, knocking me aside as he tumbles to the ground. He rolls with it but Teth Adam is already there, stamping on his break-

"A-ahg!"

-and dropping to hammer him in the head with his right fist! Teth Adam goes for a second blow, but Theodore somehow manages to muster enough strength to grab his wrist with his unbroken arm.

Which is when I run my sword through his chest to the hilt.

"Bwlwhgw!"

He convulses, then tries weakly to rise. He's not actually bleeding…

I turn back to the box. "Circe!"

The air between the box and Theodore's fallen form is briefly illuminated by her glowing body before she lands next to him. "A simple matter to bind him. Perhaps…"

She clenches her fists, then raises them high. In response the ground of the arena flows over Theodore, solidifying and hardening… In the shape of a sarcophagus decorated with a scarab. Hah!

Teth Adam regards it for a moment, then turns his attention to us. "My thanks, to both of you. What.. happens now?"

"Now?" I smile and lay my right hand on his left shoulder. "Now you wake up."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd September
08:31 GMT -5

Miss Parish and I watch through the gymnasium window as Cranius puts his squad of US army volunteers through their paces. Only three of the initial batch of twenty have had their oolitic kidneys implanted, and at a glance I can't see much difference between their performance and that of their colleagues. But then I suppose that's the point.

"Had any problems?"

"One of them tried stroking Tigira's tail." She smiles cruelly. "Once."

I can imagine. "Honestly. You don't just grab a woman's tail. That's at least a second date thing."

She arches her right eyebrow. "I remember someone stroking my wings on our first date."

I raise my right forefinger in a finger-wagging gesture. "That was in the spirit of honest anatomical enquiry."

"In the future, you might want to be careful whose anatomies you're 'honestly enquiring' into. Your girlfriend might get jealous." I'm not sure exactly what it is about my expression which clues her in, but she stops smiling and frowns. "Is something wrong?"

"We're.. separated. An unfortunate miscommunication which rather… Grew out of proportion. Is Cranius going to be available today?"

"I, ah… Not for a meeting. He's been doing everything he can to make sure this project goes smoothly, and that means overseeing every aspect of the implantation personally. But.. I can.. probably help you? Or Janus Senior, or… Crassus?"

I look sceptical. "Really? Crassus?"

"He's…" She visibly strains trying to come up with something positive to say. "Getting better with people. It's like he knows how a conversation is supposed to go but can't quite work out how to get there. But as a bioengineer his skills and instincts are at least as good as Cranius's."

I chuckle quietly. "It comes to something when Cranius has better people skills than someone."

"Oh, he… Grows on you. What was it you wanted to talk to him about?"

"I'm… Having a bit of a get together. A few… Like minded individuals discussing ways to… Coordinate their efforts in the cause of improving Human civilisation. Cranius's name was one of the first that came to mind."

Down below, I watch him jump off Otto's shoulders and take a position on parallel bars while… He's laughing, apparently sharing a joke with a soldier who is laughing right back. Is he bantering? And that isn't one of the augmented soldiers. Remarkable.

"I'm sure he'd be honoured, but…" She looks down at the volunteers below. "I'm not sure that now is the best time. How… Much time would it take up?"

I shrug. "I'm happy to tube him in and out. I doubt that the initial meeting will take more than an hour or two. After that, how much he decides to involve himself is entirely up to him. I scheduled the meeting for the ninth, and I… Heh. I booked a conference room in the Hotel de Bilderberg in Oosterbeek."

Her eyes narrow slightly as she recognises the name. "Isn't that-?"

"Yeah." I grin. "Bit childish of me, but I wanted somewhere neutral and… Once it occurred to me I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"And.. how many people will be attending?"

"Myself, six others, and one more by video link. We might expand later, depending on how things go." I shrug. "Or everyone might hate everyone else and this will be the only such meeting. But I'm hopeful that won't happen."

"And… Do they.. know… About..?" She circles her right hand-. Or, her hand, I suppose, indicating Aberrance as a whole.

"Most of them have seen stranger things."

Miss Parish blinks. "Really?"

"Oh, you're welcome to come along and meet everyone yourself. I imagine that Cranius will have you doing most of the liaising anyway, so you may as well introduce yourself."

She nods. "Do we get to see the guest list in advance?"

"Mmm. I'd rather leave everyone equally disadvantaged. Be a bit of an ice breaker, getting everyone to talk about their aims and abilities. Listen, there… Were a couple of other things I wanted to talk to you about." She looks attentive. "Have you had any luck tracking down the Un-woman Magna Mater?"

"I don't think I've heard of her."

"She's fairly distinctive. Two tentacles for legs. Six extremely large breasts. An overwhelming pheromonal aura."

Miss Parish laugh/coughs a little uncomfortably. "We don't have anyone like that, but I'm sure you could find someone in the red light district who could dress up-."

"She's also Janus Junior's mother." Miss Parish blinks in shock, a look of slowly dawning horror moving across her face as she considers the idea. "Or father, depending on which way you look at it. It was during the period in which Arcane was trying to create a better body for himself, though… Exactly what he was trying to achieve…"

"I'll…" Miss Parish gets her face under control. "I'll.. get in contact with our investigators. See if they've… Heard of anything matching that description."

I nod. "Thank you." Then I turn so that I'm looking through the window. Not at the people below, but at the far wall. "The other matter… I spent some time investigating a… An old murder, yesterday."

"Anyone I know?"

"I don't think so. The victim's name was Mitchell Byrne."

I feel the sudden shot of fear run through her, but I pointedly avoid looking at her.

"I… Flashed my snazzy 'DMA Federal Agent' badge around and spoke to the detective who headed the investigation. I was expecting to have to lambaste the man, but, actually? He'd run a competent investigation. They had a pretty good idea who the perpetrator was and… Thanks to the 'victim' not cleaning the carpet or her clothes well enough to fool modern forensic tests, they had a pretty good idea why. The file is -technically- still open, but he mostly wanted to speak to the perpetrator in order to close it. He told me that he had no intention of pressing charges."

I can feel it through the ring as her heart rate drops from 'racing panic attack' to merely 'elevated'.

"He tried to.. sound me out. Find out if I knew where she was. He sounded sympathetic. I'm… Not sure that I do know. Have you..? Heard anything about the case?"

"I… Ah… I think I remember the 'wanted' posters. They sure looked like they intended to press charges."

"Yes, I asked about those. They were produced in the gap between them working out the killer's identity and them establishing the motive. He was quite apologetic." It takes an effort not to look around. "He realised exactly what having something like that hanging over a person could do to their mental state, particularly if they felt that they couldn't ever come into contact with officialdom again. But… I suppose after this much time… If Mina Byrne wanted to formally clear her name… She'd have to want to come forward. And if she didn't… Then she'd probably made a new life for herself, and with any luck she doesn't think too much about the old one." I wait a moment. "I loathe the idea that I can't fix any problem I encounter, but if I sought her out I wouldn't want to upend her life. Do you have any..? Thoughts on the subject..?"

"I, um. Not-. Not right now."

I nod, and give her a moment to regain her composure before turning back to her with a friendly smile. "I suppose that may be for the best." I smile pleasantly. "I was wondering..? Do you have time to show me around your research laboratories? I think it might help my presentation if I have a slightly better idea of what your current projects are."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd September
17:22 GMT

I take a moment to look around Dox's new office. Not a lot of effort gone into decoration as yet, though I do rather like the view out of the windows. "I'm a little surprised that you moved up here."

Dox doesn't look around from his monitors. "We're no more exposed here than on the surface."

I walk towards the closest window and look out towards Maltus. "Still. You're in a building entirely controlled by another intelligence, rather than one whose construction you controlled."

"You rather took the decision out of my hands when you recruited Lantern Ranx. His core programming requires the presence of a commanding officer in order to be satisfied. Our officer corps consists of precisely two individuals. Do you intend to remain here?"

"I'd… Rather not. But a senior Darkstar-."

"I ran the schematic calculations myself. The Darkstars are reconnaissance. Ranx was a battle station. His loyalty is reasonably secured with a Lantern, but is better secured using a fleet officer. His multiprocessing abilities are sufficiently good that I find him to be an adequate source of labour. This is… Acceptable."

I nod, watching as an engineering detail begin attaching the first parts of what will eventually be Ranx's first shipyard. "Alright. What next?"

"Next, I want you to look over the second level of potential Orange Lantern recruits." I turn back towards him, frowning slightly. "Now that the first class have been taught your self-focusing techniques, they can instruct others in turn. Your time is more profitably spent testing exactly what degree of psychological divergence from our baselines can use rings satisfactorily."

"Without going on an insane rampage."

"Without going on an insane rampage against anyone other than the Reach." He tears his eyes away from his monitors for a split second. "We are building a military force."

"Insane Orange Lanterns will be powerful but stupid. The Reach will beat them."

"I'm not planning to defeat them through a series of duels."

I don't see him press a button, but a copy of the Darkstar's map of the Reach interior appears in the middle of the room. Thousands of dots for inhabited worlds in the nebulous 'periphery zone'. I could look up which ones are only just coming into Reach 'influence' and which are actually being settled, but it isn't all that important. Thousands more dots lie outside that zone, marked in accordance with our expectations of how the Reach are prioritising them. Small silver star shapes for Reach Periphery Fleets maintained in the periphery zone and larger silver stars for the Reserve Fleets lurking back in what is firmly Reach territory. We've got a pretty good idea of their locations and composition, as well as their maximum speed and range. The Darkstars may not have the force necessary to stop the tide, but they are good at what they do.

"A group of vengeful Orange Lanterns powerful enough to disintegrate a periphery fleet would be an extremely useful strategic tool. They could be recovered by a more stable comrade after the action is concluded. Planets on the periphery are far more able to support our ongoing campaign than worlds further in, and worlds still outside the Reach sphere of influence will be more likely to support us once they observe our ability to hurt the Reach significantly. Time is an issue."

"If the Reach didn't recover them and take their rings in the meantime."

"Do you have an alternate idea?"

"We have a phrase on my homeworld. 'With blackjack and hookers'."

"I'm… Not sure..?"

"It means, 'I'm going to do what you do, but better'. Without all the mistakes you made. We're not the Green Lantern Corps -we're not going to lose to the Reach- but ultimately I want their structure. The respect they get. And I want future generations of Orange Lanterns to look back at their forebears with pride, not thinking 'those guys were really fucked up'. And I want our allies to be able to do the same thing."

Dox give me something approaching his full attention. "You still haven't given me an actual proposal."

"We don't need people with lots of desire. We need people with… Stable.. desire-structures."

"Which only you can see."

"Which at the moment only I can see. But if I'm getting higher quality recruits, why would that matter? I go to them, offer them training and a ring."

"Using this… Apparently universe-wide teleportation ability you recently developed."

Hinon was pretty clear that taking other people with me wasn't a good idea, but getting to them? That would work. "To reach them, yes. I wouldn't know who I was going to, just how stable their avarice network was."

"You are welcome to try. I am interested in learning to better model your exotic abilities."

"Sensors online, Commander!"

Dox nods. I stare at him. He notices, the skin around his eyes tightening slightly as he tries to work out why. I flick my eyes up. There's a confused moment where he pays no attention to his monitors at all.

Then he gets it. "Thank you, Lantern Ranx."

I smile as I float into the air and raise my hands out to the sides, palms upwards.

And the universe fades out. Dox is there, and the other people working on Ranx… And of course the neatly contained and nearly totally satisfied desires of Ranx himself… I pull back further and further.

And I listen. I listen for… Harmonies. Great symphonies played out in orange light. Patterns within patterns, perfectly balanced and-.

There!

I move-

"…doing to him!"

A cave, a forest, a.. desire set that I've felt before. Soldiers in blue and white armour, humanoid, an officer in familiar-looking robes… A near-humanoid with a slightly pointed oval head. The boy has black sclera, an unusual trait, but one which-

"Another one! Shoot him!"

"No!"

-is relatively common amongst Daxamites! Orange armour shimmers into being around me and construct filaments lash out at the soldiers. I thought I recognised the style. This is Daxam! And if they're using-

My filament burns through the robe and is turned aside by the crystalline armour underneath.

-relic weapons then someone has really made them angry.

The boy I heard grabs the other alien's hand and pulls him away as the soldiers turn towards me.

That shouldn't be completely modern armour; the Daxamites went their own way long before Krypton died. And I don't think that they're-.

There's a yellow flare from the officer's hand as he activates a white solar flare.

And now they are.

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd September
17:26 GMT

Okay, Daxamite soldiers getting what is probably-

I yank myself backwards as three sets of heat vision flash through the place I was standing. They had to stop and stare, and there was an appreciable build up. Ring, watch for that.

Compliance.

-their first taste of full Kryptonian might. They're probably not going to be better fighters than Kon was-

One flies through the air at me, firing his gun with his left hand while his right hand balls into a fist. The plasma bolts are soaked by my construct armour without doing too much damage, while I sidestep the punch and press both of my hands against the side of his forearm, turning his forward lunge into a groundward plummet. I fly back as the rock beneath us pulverises and explodes.

-when we first started training, and that small amount of solar radiation won't be enough to fully empower them. I can't remember whether or not comic Daxamites were vulnerable to kryptonite, and I can't entirely credit how vulnerable to lead they were in the one comic I saw them in. I know that Daxam Sixteenians are literally just slightly altered Kryptonians…

Try it. Ring, green kryptonite radiation burst.

Compliance.

Green light explodes outwards from me, prompting the soldiers and their commander to brace… Nothing appears to happen to them. The soldiers, okay, they might have kept their armour in sufficiently good repair to keep the radiation shields working, but the commander isn't wearing full protective gear. Daxamites don't like using their advanced technology, so while he could be wearing a concealed force field he probably isn't.

Another round of shots blast from their guns, prompting me to backpedal and erect a construct shield. They're getting used to moving through the air under their own power, trying to spread out and apply their training to a new situation. Their heads are covered, so I doubt that a light or scent based attack would work. That leaves-

A flying kick towards the back of my head prompts me to drop to lay just above the ground, the soldier who made it flailing in the air as they try to get the hang of the physics of the situation. I generate a construct claw and grab them around the torso before slamming them into their dazed comrade pulling himself out of his punch-inflicted hole.

-sonics, since the officer was clearly communicating by speaking out loud.

Sonic screamer.

Compliance.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

The Daxamites wince, several dropping their guns to stick their hands over their ears in an attempt to keep the horrific sound out. More modern Kryptonian armour would include sound baffles. Heck, these might if the officer had bothered putting on his own suit. But the lack of combat experience means that the soldiers might not know about it and the lack of command experience means that the officer doesn't know what to do about it.

The youth… Grabbed the alien and did the sort of flying leap which Kon used to do to travel longer distances. On the edge of my sonic attack he stumbles his landing, and the alien supports both of them as they continue moving away.

A flash of wide beam heat vision flashes over my construct armour, destroying my amplifier constructs. Okay, the objective here isn't to beat these soldiers in a fight, but Daxam has pretty good interdiction systems. Heck, that's how it's remained isolated this long. It's nothing that I can't bypass given a few hours, but I can't just grab my targets and leave in a flash.

The officer grabs a pair of earphones from underneath his robes and I shoot them with an energy pulse, disintegrating them. He looks enraged at my action, which only confirms my belief that he doesn't have a great deal of experience.

Hang on. Daxamites are weakened by their own red dwarf. Lead probably… Interferes with their own internal radiation… Whatever, they've never let anyone study them in any detail. Would red light weaken them back to-

Two soldiers lunge in concert, constantly moving as they jab at my armour with their fists. My construct armour starts cracking at once. There's the demi-Kryptonian strength that I haven't missed at all. I take six x-ionised knives out of subspace and slash out. The soldier in front of me backs off at once, while the one behind takes the opportunity to punch me in the back of the head-. Ow! The construct armour fails and my environmental shield merely managed to turn a lethal attack into a painful one. On the positive side, the knives slid neatly through his armour and into his right arm, right leg and chest and from the way he's bleeding I don't think he's going to try attacking me again. I reconstruct my construct armour and take out my kinetic shield.

-normal levels? Or do I just keep going with the knives?

No. I'm a gosh darn superhero.

Ring, 1000 nanometre wavelength burst.

Compliance.

And -okay, the youth is out of line of sight- power armour.

Compliance.

My armour's display shows me the infrared burst cover my attackers, one incoming heat vision attack suddenly flickering and failing. Ah excellent!

"You'll never win, alien!" The officer stares at me, left hand touching the blood leaking from his left ear. "Our ancestors provided us with more terrible weapons than you can possibly dream of!"

Ring, translate this into Kryptonese.

Compliance.

"I greet you on behalf of the House of El."

He jerks in surprise. "What?"

"The House of El." I extend filaments to the bleeding soldier just behind me and start sealing the holes I just made. And add a glowing orange 'S' to my chest plate. "I was hoping to establish contact-."

"We have no desire to communicate with the worst of our old world's monsters!"

"Whatever they did, they're dead now. Krypton is destroyed, and a mere handful of survivors-."

He smiles cruelly. "Praise Rao for their destruction. If they dare come here then we will finish them off."

"My lord was newly born when it happened. There is no way he could have played any part-."

Alert. Spatial anomaly detected.

What sort of anomaly?

If this ring could characterise it, then it would not be an 'anomaly'.

Fair point. And I've learned that the Daxamites won't exactly be overjoyed to meet Kal-El. Time to leave.

The air bends around me as I fly after the youth and his comrade. I come to a stop just behind them, about three hundred metres from my previous position. The alien crouches, fists ready. The youth's eyes are glowing.

I hold up my hands. "Peace! Please!" I send my power armour back to subspace, and reduce the strength of the construct armour covering my face. This appears to calm him down a-.

"I can understand you! You have a translator!"

The alien looks overjoyed at the notion.

"Yes, and I can evacuate you from this planet if you like. But I'm mostly here for-."

"What did you do to my father?"

"That was your-? Ah… Made him… Really angry? And partially deaf. He's not seriously hurt. Um, what's your name?"

"Sodam Yat."

Ah. Well, I hope Atrocitus wasn't too attached to that prophecy. But…

"How old are you?"

"Old enough to try to stop my father murdering my friend. What do you want?"

I smile. "Funny you should ask… "

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th September
07:02 GMT -6

Lynne prods listlessly at her porridge while Miss Shimmer fiddles with her mobile phone. I'd say something, but she is an adult. The.. lad and one of his younger brothers are at the table as well. The younger boy is called Stephan, and he keeps staring at everything in a way which I'm really going to have to teach him not to. All of the boys are reacting well to the anti-monster treatment, while the girls… The younger ones have taken to their version just fine. Bethany and Mary -the ones who have hit puberty- are… Being problematic. At this rate I'm going to have to authorise the use of some sort of libido binding, and I'd much rather avoid that if at all possible. Those sorts of spell can have all kinds of adverse psychological effects, and you'd have to be some sort of idiot to rely on them in the long term.

I beam at my daughter. "Looking forward to starting school tomorrow?"

She scoops up a chunk of well-congealed porridge and puts it into her mouth. I'd.. complain about her avoiding talking to me by starting to eat something she showed no desire to eat a moment ago, but I know full well that I did the exact same thing at her age and… Frankly, some normal child-behaviour from her is something to encourage!

The… The lad -I've got to find out if he's got a middle name or something- on the other hand nods enthusiastically. "Yes, Mister Grayven. Um. Mister Grayven?"

"Yes?"

"Um… Why are we going to school?"

"In order to learn things."

"Um. Yes. But…"

"The G-Gnomes already covered the school curriculum as well as a variety of things you ordinarily wouldn't be taught until college?" Didn't have much choice, really. Up until the US military handed Lynne over to SHADE they at least made some effort at schooling. The Succupires on the other hand never had any. The older ones were able to teach the younger ones to read using food packets left behind by the germ warfare people, but beyond that? Almost nothing. The G-Gnomes had to spend weeks just building up the fundamentals so they could learn the rest. "Is that what you're wondering?"

"Yeah. That's… Were there things they didn't teach us?"

I nod. "Almost certainly. G-Gnomes can't teach you things which they don't know themselves. And one of the things they very definitely don't know is how to be Human."

"Well..? I'm not Human."

"How to pretend to be Human, then. I mean… Which lifestyle do you prefer?"

"Oh! Human!" His eyes flick to Stephan for a moment. "Definitely."

Yes, he'd have been eating you in a year or two, wouldn't he? "I should probably say that there's nothing wrong with being who you are… But in your case, there clearly was. The point of sending you to school is to teach you how to be able to act like a normal Human. You're learning social skills which the G-Gnomes can't teach you, not knowledge they can implant. And, eventually, your personal curriculum will include learning how to use your particular supernatural abilities."

Gloria was not happy to see me. But as I said to her: tough. Don't kill small animals and eat them raw if you're afraid of getting found out. Mrs Briggs was a bit more positive, if 'disturbed and horrified' can be parsed as a positive feeling. She was at least willing to share what little her coven taught her before being slaughtered. Should I feel worse about assuming that I'm going to be training a generation of child soldiers? But… A weapon you don't know how to use is a weapon that belongs to your enemy. If I get them to the point where they can live normal lives, I would of course help them do so.

But I can't deny that a group of super charismatic shapeshifting magic users would be very useful.

Miss Shimmer gets up without either saying anything or making eye contact with anyone, and heads towards the door.

"Oh, Miss Shimmer!?"

She stops. "Hm?"

"We might have a magic user staying with us for a little while. Would you mind showing her your work?"

She looks up. "Ah, sure. I'm not doing anything super-critical right now." She blinks, then frowns slightly. "Wait, this isn't some kind of friendship thing, is it? 'cause I think Zatanna was kind of a fluke."

"No, she's a potential ally of mine and I want to convince her that we know what we're doing as far as magic is concerned. Her practical knowledge is excellent but her theory may be a little behind yours. And… She's quite a bit older than you."

"Oh." She shrugs. "Sure. Just give me a day's warning or whatever."

"Will do, if reasonably-" I've lost her to the phone again. "-practical." She starts walking away. "Have fun!"

"I'll be working."

"Doesn't mean that you can't have fun doing it!" She's almost out of the door. "I generally do!" When I'm not being shot, nuked or Anti-Lifed.

"Daddy?" My attention immediately focuses on Lynne. "I'm… I'm… Worried."

I smile benevolently down at her. "Of course you are. It's a big change of pace. I myself was quite nervous before I started Secondary School, and that was knowing that there would be people I knew in my classes. But you'll adjust, just as you adjusted to being taught at the Center for Paranormal Studies."

"And people..? Won't think I'm weird?"

I nod reassuringly. "Of course they'll think you're weird-."

She sags, but in a good-humoured sort of way. "Daaaad."

"I imagine that people will find a trainee superhero fascinating. You… Might want to avoid talking about some parts-."

"I figured that out for myself."

"But… You might find that a little light touch telepathic probing will help guide you through some of the initial confusion. Just so long as you don't let it become a crutch." Lynne nods, then gets up to carry her bowl to the dishwasher. I honestly think I've done all that I can to prepare her. Except her wardrobe, which I left up to Miss Amane because… Look at me. "You know, you and the boys could try going to the park today? Make a start on that socialisation thing?"

"Yeah. Maybe. What are you doing today, Dad?"

I gently push my chair back and rise to my feet. "More networking. With Adam-. Adom awake and himself they need someone around who can translate for him and explain the modern legal process. I'm mostly just sitting in a room while other people talk to each other. Not very interesting, I'm afraid."

She nods, then she leads the way out of the room with the lad and Stephen following close behind.

I wait until the door shuts.

"Mother Box. Boom tube to Fawcett City."

Ping. Ping.

It's got to be done.

Ping.

The portal opens, and closes again the moment I step through. I don't even bother looking around; the cheery disposition of this place will just make what follows worse.

"Mother Box. Boom tube to the Tower of Rage."

Ping.

I give myself a quick once-over as the portal opens. Armour, weapons, tough looking… I should be able to get past the Lowlies without too much difficulty.

But it isn't the Lowlies that you're worried about, is it Corpsman?

No. But if I can't even bring myself to stand in his presence…

Then he's already won. Quite right.

I take a deep breath, harden my expression and then stride forwards.

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th September
07:07 GMT -6
Self=Null

I look around as the boom tube closes behind me. The brief image I saw when aiding Teth Adom doesn't do it justice. The flicker as the fug that makes up Apokolips' breathable atmosphere causes the lights of a distant industrial complex to twist and dance. The disturbingly grey-brown sky made of industrial effluence and reflected light from the fire pits. Apokolips doesn't actually have a sun. If that… Vertigo comic about suns being sophonts was correct, I suppose… They've just got better taste.
Self=Null

Either that or Father killed it.
Self=Null

The ring is filtering out most of the stench, for which I am quite grateful. In most cities there's a graduation of squalor; the slums on the outskirts, then tenements, middle class housing before you reach the splendour of the central business district. On Apokolips, Father had the Tower of Rage built in the middle of the Armagetto so that he could be just a little closer to the misery.
Self=Null

I angle my head down slightly as I float down the main boulevard towards the Tower of Rage. It's… Reasonably well maintained, the workers not daring do anything less than everything they can when within line of sight of Darkseid. As I glance from side to side I catch a glimpse of a few of them; haggard and half-starved wretches who freeze or flee the moment they see me. I try to avoid giving any indication that I've seen them; not because an Apokoliptian Elite necessarily would behave like that, but because I don't want them doing anything-.
Self=Null

"I die for Darkseid."
Self=Null

Anything like that. I keep my face carefully blank as the man lands chest first on the stone slab in front of me, the fall smashing everything. Death must have been near-instantaneous, though given where we are I doubt that physical death marks the end of his suffering.
Self=Null

I hate this place so much. Revulsion From Contradiction.

Steady, Corpsman.

Why? Sinestro, why? If he decides to make a fight of this I've got next to no chance with you anyway. And staying myself, retaining my own emotions in a place like this is a far better defence than a slight buff to my environmental shield.

There is always a way to win, Corpsman. Even against a foe such as Darkseid.

Apokolips is one of the few worlds to have flat out beat a Green Lantern Corps invasion. Father keeps one of your predecessors around so that he can perfect his Green-Lantern-breaking technique. There are treasure rooms full of defunct personal lanterns and power rings. I like to think that I'm pretty dangerous but I'm not a Lantern Corps. Oh, why do I even bother? There's no way that the Guardians left that little snippet in the Book of Oa. It's full of rules and inspirational tales, not arse kickings.

You are correct on that score, Corpsman. But as First Lantern, I was privy to a great deal that is kept from the rest of the Corps. I know about Raker Qarrigat. The last time I cried was when I watched the recordings of a generation of my Corps being slaughtered on the killing fields of Apokolips. I know the evils of this place.

Sinestro…

I look up as a flight of three aero-troopers spot me and begin their attack run.

As you are now, can you still hate?

I do not believe so, Corpsman. But perhaps I will tolerate you hating for me.

"Trespasser!" The lead aero-trooper comes to a halt in the air a little way above me while his wingmen hang back. Ah, Apokoliptian NCOs; he's claimed the right to first blood. If he thinks that I'm someone he can kill, he'll do it merely to increase his personal kill count. "Halt and make yourself known!"

I hate this place so very much…



I stop and smile pleasantly up at him. "I am Grayven, son of Darkseid." The signs of his fear are obvious. The slight widening of his eyes. The movement of his mouth as he suddenly finds it entirely bereft of saliva. "I am here to visit my father. Would you be so good as to-?"

"Blasphemer!"

Oh. Not scared of me. Scared to be near to someone claiming kinship with Darkseid. Scared to consider Darkseid's retribution against an obviously false claimant and anyone near him.

But still. Fear.

Darkseid-shaped construct armour forms around me, easily absorbing their volley of blaster bolts. I let my eyes glow for a moment, then send twin beams lancing through the air in the towards the squad leader. He attempts to evade for a few seconds until it becomes clear that they're following him regardless, then he… Just stops, turns, and lets them hit him with a smile on his face.

I can't even begin…

The others drop their guns, drop out of the sky, barely manage to prevent themselves falling off their flight discs in their hurry to fall on their faces before me. They grovel… Something. Between their armour and the stone slabs they're mashing their faces into their words are a little indistinct.

I stop looking at them and return my gaze to the Tower of Rage in the distance. Is it..? No. It's like the thing with the Mona Lisa's eyes. I don't believe for a moment that the representations of Father's face are actually watching me. Or smiling. Though I suppose that for a New God as strong as Father it's perfectly possible…

"Get up. You are not Lowlies; you are soldiers of Apokolips." "Feel pride in your strength!"

They raise themselves very slightly from the ground. The aero-troopers are elite soldiers, not beasts like the Parademons or techno-organic perversions like the Suicide Jockeys. Technically they're New Gods as well. Just far weaker ones than me. And not likely to grow stronger in a place where I can feel the Anti-Life in the very air.

"My lord." / "My lord."

"Oh, stop." I walk past them and then come to a halt. "Arm yourselves."

I don't look, but I do hear them picking up their blasters and remounting their aero discs.

"I have no need for an escort, but it would be convenient for me to not have to bother with anyone who was not a member of the Elite. Clear my path, that I may complete my journey and greet my father."

"At once, my lord!"

And they're gone, which is probably for the best. I don't want them to… I don't know, ritually disembowel themselves or something. You know, you'd think that living in a place like this they'd just do what Humans do and grow accustomed to pointless killing. I'm afraid of Darkseid because I value my life, my relationships, my sense of self. But if pain's normal and Darkseid is wonderful… Why were they so afraid?

There is a Human expression, Corpsman. Even a Worm an inch long has half an inch of spirit in it. Perhaps what they truly fear is that one day they will stop fearing. That one day they will truly understand the mind of the one who rules them, and that on that day they will be the ones stepping off the roof.

Don't bother, Sinestro. I know that fear is your thing, but I don't think that I want to understand this.

I used fear as a tool with which to create order. This… Is a very long way from my vision.

I smile humourlessly.

Oh, but you haven't seen the best bits yet.

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th September
07:51 GMT -6

I hesitate as I step out of the shaft and onto the level of the Tower of Rage containing Father's throne room. Assuming that he hasn't moved since Father Box was last informed of the layout his actual chambers are elsewhere, but every so often he does actually hold court in the way Queen Hegra did. The difference being that she did it because she actually needed the support of her Elite retainers. Darkseid most assuredly does not. At a time like this I can't help but think of Lonnie Machin's confrontation with Darkseid, and that stupid Blasphemy demon, oh so subtly claiming the authority of God for itself and so undermining the very concept of God. Honestly, the whole thing was so obvious that it was somewhat puerile-.

I force myself to take another step, then another. See, not so hard. My 'escort' did their job. I certainly wasn't troubled on the way here and I-.

"…defy Prince Grayven's orders!"

I look around at the sound. Oh, who are they shouting at now? That is in the direction of Darkseid's chambers, but it isn't really on my way. Have they decided that my request also covers cleaning staff who happen to be in the same general area?

"The Master has ordered me to-."

"Silence. wretch!"

I hear a dull thump. So far, so Apokoliptian. I doubt that Father would be impressed to learn that I stuck my neck out for one of them-



-but then this whole exercise is about testing his boundaries, isn't it? I turn aside from my path and head in the direction of the sounds. Darkseid's actual quarters aren't all that large. They're the same ones that he had as Crown Prince Drax's younger and less favoured brother. I'm not completely sure why he didn't change. Perhaps stubbornness. More likely because he doesn't care any longer about trivial things like that.

Heh. I know where Darkseid shits.

"I-I was told to-."

"You dare to-."

"Alright, that's enough."

I step around the corner. A New God -a weak one by the feel of it- is laying on the floor, not daring to rise. Her skin is alabaster white and her hair raven black. She's wearing a purple and gold fifties swimsuit sort of garment, accessorised with purple and gold gloves which go up to the middle of her upper arm and similarly coloured thigh boots. A black and red… Cap? Headdress? Decorated with a golden skull has been knocked from her head and lays beside her on the floor. There's a purple choker around her neck with a red stone over her windpipe. Her eyes don't leave the floor and rich rivers of fear flow from her, but none of it is directed at her attackers.

No prizes for guessing who it is for.

The two aero-troopers back off, bowing to me as I approach the fallen woman. Mother Box, who is she? Her face looks familiar, but I can't quite place it.

Ping.

Oh. Wait, how many does he have?

Ping.

Oh sssshazbot.

Darkseid has absolutely no need for political marriage. The last woman anyone can remember him being intimate with was Tigra, and he hated her so much that when Justeen killed her he gave her a promotion. And yet, Grayven exists and gets recognised as being Darkseid's son. There are only so many places he could have come from.

I reach out to her with my right hand. "Mother."

I ignore the cringing and cowering of the aero-troopers to study her face as she turns her face upwards towards me. I can see what DeSaad was going for, and the facial structure is more or less there. But the ears are wrong, and-. She was Human?

"Grayven?"

I nearly say 'No, I'm Orion in disguise', but I think better of it. "Indeed. It's.. been a while. But it is good to see you again." I pointedly look at my hand and then back to her. "Will you take my hand?"

"Thank-thank you, my lord." She reaches up with her right hand-

Ping.

-which is the one that can cause sleep, and grasps my palm. Gently as I can, I help her upright. Now, what to do about the other two?



I don't look at them. "You buffoons have exceeded my orders and assaulted Father's bedmate while she was executing his. If you are dead before my meeting with him concludes I will not consider it necessary to inform him of that fact. Now, begone."

They bego and I take a purple healing ray projector from my armour and point it at Mortalla. "Hold still."

She holds completely still as I play the beam over her wounds. They don't heal as quickly as they would for a Human… Given that she's weak for a New God I imagine that's more to do with the presiding atmosphere of Apokolips instead of her innate resistance, but I don't know enough to be sure. Hm. I take my personal mana infuser off and offer it to her.

"Please, accept this as a gift. I'm sure that I've missed a few Mother's Days. It should make it a little harder for Father's thugs to-."

"You-." She gingerly touches her lip where it was bleeding as I lower the ray. "G-Grayven, you should not call him that. He does not like it when-."

"When Kalibak does it, yes. If I'd sired Kalibak, I doubt that I'd like being reminded of the fact either. I'm sure that if he had a problem with me doing so, he would have mentioned it during our last meeting."

"V-very well." She gingerly takes the mana infuser and holds it to her chest with both hands.

"It's… It's designed to be worn around your.. arm."

"Darkseid commissioned this for me." She crouches, picking up her headdress with her left hand and restoring it to its place upon her head. "I dare not modify it, save by his leave."

"Alright then. I'll ask him about it. Um. Are you alright.. here?"

"I-." Her eyes go to the floor again. "I am where he has bade me be."

Okay, well… It's not like I ever thought that I was the only one whose soul he'd crushed. Even if DeSaad did most of the legwork with this one. I go to turn away-



-and then turn back, bend down slightly and envelop her in my arms.

"It is good to see you again, Mother." "Consider yourself under my protection."

I think she might be trying to hug back, but she's under six foot tall and normally proportioned while I'm huge. Then I step back, smiling as friendly a smile as I can manage. Her smile is slight and hesitant, as if the muscles in her face were new to her. But it's there.

I turn away and head in the direction of Father's throne room.

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th September
07:56 GMT -6

My, what big doors you have.

I stand outside the doors to Father's throne room and look at them for a moment. No ushers or heralds here, apparently. Should I knock, or-?

I raise my hands and stride forward, pushing the doors open as I proceed inside.
Self=Darkseid
Father notes my arrival with apparent disinterest from his seat on the dais at the far end of the room. The seat itself is a simple 'U', unostentatious in order to direct the eye towards its owner.
Self=Darkseid
Which at this point is quite unnecessary.
Self=Darkseid
I walk towards Father's dais, arms folded behind my back. A quick look around the room reveals a standard crowd scene of the Apokoliptian Elite lining my path to the throne. This is the first time most of them have seen 'Grayven' in a very long time, and I want the resemblance between myself and Father to stick in their minds. From the slight tinge of fear I can feel in the room, I think I might be successful.
Self=Darkseid
DeSaad's lurking at Father's right hand, looking… Crap as ever, but he doesn't appear to have suffered any long term effects from my last meeting with him.
Self=Darkseid
Kalibak is closest to me, his smouldering glare giving me a pretty good idea how he feels about the situation, the nails of his left hand visibly drawing blood from his left palm and his right clenched tight around the grip of his beta club. This iteration of Kalibak has little in common with his moronic Apokolips 12 alter ego; while not one of the universe's deepest thinkers he's a good tactician in addition to being strong and remarkably fast and agile. He's the second biggest immediate threat to me in this room.
Self=Darkseid
I stop in front of him, meeting him face to face. "Kalibak. Brother." I extend my right hand. "It's been a while. How are you?" "I greet you as my equal."
Self=Darkseid
Kalibak merely bares his teeth. "Father's protection is the one thing that stops me grinding you to paste."
Self=Darkseid
I nod sadly, then lower my hand. "Dear brother, please know that I bear you no ill will. If you should find yourself in the vicinity of my home, I would consider a visit from you to be an honour."
Self=Darkseid
I turn away and continue down the line. Three of Doctor Bedlam's animates stand to my right. Two are dressed like Lowlies while the lead member of the trio is dressed in the manner of the escapologist Baron Bedlam from the Seven Soldiers series. Steppenwolf-. Great Uncle Steppenwolf and Virman Vundabar stand on the opposite side, apparently having only just broken off their conversation in order to look at me.
Self=Darkseid
"Great Uncle. Commander." "It humbles me that great warriors such as yourselves have made time to greet me at my homecoming. Thank you."
Self=Darkseid
Steppenwolf gives me a smile and a nod, while Virman looks less impressed. Though given the set of his face, I can well believe that's the only expression of which he's physically capable.
Self=Darkseid
The others… No Kanto, Amazing Grace is dead, Devilance… Don't know what happened to him after I sent him back, though if I'm officially in Father's good books I doubt that it was terminal. No Glorious Godfrey… Need to keep an eye out for that one. Justeen's standing close to DeSaad, though whether to protect him or backstab him I can't be sure.
Self=Darkseid
Granny Goodness stands a little further forward on Father's left, smiling affectionately down at me. She… Actually looks like a slightly buffer version of my late grandmother on Earth Prime. Maybe with slightly bigger hair. And far more abusive, obviously, and a New God.
Self=Darkseid
So not much like gran at all, really. It's the grey perm that put me in mind of her.
Self=Darkseid
Bernadeth, Stompa and Knockout stand just behind her, the only representatives of Father's 'bodyguard' present, and… Huh. No other soldiers. Not that any of the people here couldn't outfight, say… Ten aero-troopers each without too much difficulty. Just strikes me as a little odd.
Self=Darkseid
"Grayven." Granny Goodness steps towards me just as I reach her, her arms open in a way that implies a desire to embrace me. "Granny has missed you. And I hear that you have a little one of your own now? You've grown up so quickly." "You will allow Granny to educate her and turn her into a proper Apokoliptian, won't you."
Self=Darkseid
"Granny. You appear to be keeping well." "She's already been broken by the Anti-Life directly. Breaking her further serves no useful purpose to me."
Self=Darkseid
She manages to mostly keep the disgruntlement from her face. Hm. She didn't get Kalibak, she didn't get Orion… She got Scott and failed completely. Her Orphanage does have relatively conventional education facilities as well as random torture. I wonder where other Apokoliptians go to learn things?
Self=Darkseid
"Though -if you will forgive the impertinence- I do have a favour to beg of you? Lynne starts school tomorrow, and I need to arrange a bodyguard for her. Someone skilled, determined and reliable. And preferably not known to any local groups. Naturally, your Furies were the first people I thought of. If you and-" My eyes move to the figure at the top of the dais. "-Father could possibly spare one?" "I find the prospect of adding such warriors to my retinue delightful."
Self=Darkseid
Granny smiles. "Dear boy, has one caught your eye?"
Self=Darkseid
"Where such fine warriors are concerned, I find myself spoilt for choice. But Barda-" Her face twitches. "-did have a few choice things to say about Knockout in particular. I find the words of one's enemies to be an excellent guide in such matters."
Self=Darkseid
Granny Goodness recovers, clapping her hands together. "Then no one else will do for our glorious sovereign's granddaughter."
Self=Darkseid
I nod respectfully. "Thank you."
Self=Darkseid
Next…
Self=Darkseid
Then I reach the foot of the dais and I kneel, head bowed. "Darkseid." "My liege."
Self=Darkseid
"Please, my son. Rise. No such formality is necessary between us."
Self=Darkseid
"Thank you, Father." I rise, looking him in the eyes for just a moment before aligning my eyes to a point just below his own. "And thank you for granting me this audience at such short notice."
Self=Darkseid
"Think nothing of it." He leans forwards slightly in his chair. "I see that you have already adapted to the Anti-Life fragment which I bestowed upon you. It may interest you to know that I gained comprehension of the particular fragment which I gifted to you through DeSaad's work. After your encounter with him, it seemed to be the most appropriate."
Self=Darkseid
Oh. That makes sense. There's a slight shifting in the crowd. I'm not sure if it's due to Darkseid willingly giving part of the Anti-Life equation away or that I still appear to be functional despite him having done so.
Self=Darkseid
"Tell me, how do you feel?"
Self=Darkseid
"To be frank, Father, I feel a biting bitterness in the deepest part of my soul. A constant reminder of the lowest point in my life, and I fear that I may never feel anything quite so intensely or so freely again. And I feel that I now carry within me a bane that might at any moment reach out through me and crush everything I've built, everything I've valued. It is horrifying."
Self=Darkseid
He smiles faintly. "Then it seems as though you have adapted well. Without being weakened by the exposure. This pleases me."
Self=Darkseid
Does he..? Think that I've integrated it as he has done? How would he respond to-? "I apologise if I misinterpreted the nature of the challenge, Father. Scott and I used my soul to build a cage to contain it. I try to avoid interfacing with it as much as possible."
Self=Darkseid
"But you have done so, have you not?"
Self=Darkseid
I nod. "Yes. Briefly."
Self=Darkseid
"Then all is as I intended." Oh shit. "But tell me, my son, what brings you to Apokolips so long after your pointed leave-taking?"
Self=Darkseid
"Oh, a few things." I turn my head to the left and then to the right. "I thought that it might be wise to say 'hello' to a few people, remind anyone who'd forgotten me of my existence. But, more importantly, there are one or two articles I was hoping that you would be willing to provide me with."
Self=Darkseid
"For the help you have already given me in studying the Anti-Life, I believe that it is only appropriate that I be accommodating. Tell me what it is that you desire, my son, and I will see that it is provided to you."
Self=Darkseid
"Thank you, Father."