Zatanna Zatara takes drastic measures against the entity that inhabits her father's body. But the world still needs Doctor Fate, and they will get him -- with some adjustments [SI, Season 2]
Summary: Zatanna Zatara takes drastic measures against the entity that inhabits her father's body. But the world still needs Doctor Fate, and they will get him -- with some adjustments [SI, Season 2] 0.0 At the ready
I open my eyes with a start as something nudges my stomach.
"C'mon kid. You gotta get up."
The unfamiliar voice jolts me further, and I push myself into a sitting position. I blink rapidly, a strange clarity in my head that was unlike any 'waking up' sensation I'd felt before. It felt like I had just blinked, and found myself on the ground.
"Where…"
There's a single bright spotlight overhead, the sole source of light. The rest of the environment bleeds into a murky darkness. I can't even see the edges of the room.
"...where are we?"
The elderly man in front of me inclines his head at my question, but hasn't made any move to answer, standing at ease with both hands resting on a cane. I bite my tongue to keep myself from asking further at the hard edges of his expression. The many laugh lines and wrinkles make the sternness of his features seem uncharacteristic, but all the more serious.
"We haven't got a lot of time," he tells me. He holds out a hand and I take it, surprised at his strength as he lifts me to my feet in one smooth motion. He's looking away, up towards the light. I try to follow his gaze but have to use my palm to shade my eyes, which makes it a rather worthless effort.
"I'm going to be asking you for probably the biggest favour you'll ever have to give in your life, but I hope you'll go along with it," he says so casually, I had to run it through my head twice before it the meaning gets through.
"I'm -- I'm sorry..?"
"Look sharp. He's here."
And something appears up in the light, first a speck, growing bigger and more recognisable as it descends. It floats down, then stops around eye-level, surrounded by an golden ethereal glow.
Doctor Fate's helmet.
I'm dreaming, aren't I? Come on, I'm not even that big on the comics, but it's hard to mistake it for something else with that shape, colour --
"Nabu, we need to talk."
This is… this is a strange dream to say the least. Nabu, as in the actual 'Lord of Order' character. I rarely have this sort of detail, though I suppose that could be chalked up as my memory getting fogged up as I awaken --
"I dismissed you because I grew tired of your baseless whining."
"Well, you don't have a choice now. This is important, Nabu, and I hate to say 'I told you so', but you really brought this onto yourself."
I've… never lucid dreamed before, never to this extent. I've been trying to, doing those dream diary things and memory exercises, but have never succeeded. This is too clear, too direct --
"Why have I been brought here."
"You've been sent to this side of the planes because that Zatara girl finally grew fed up with you puppeteering her father around. I told you it was a bad idea. Now here we are."
To actually interact with another person and listen to a coherent conversation --
(...this side of the planes…)
"The order of the world —"
"Must be restored, yes, yes, I know. And now the Earth's lacking one Lord of Order while Klarion still runs wild. We need to do something."
There's a heavy, meaningful pause as the initial sparks of defiance burn away into a resolute smoulder. The helmet seems to turn its gaze onto me.
I can feel the weight from eyes that don't appear to exist, piercing right through my physical body and straight into my soul.
I don't think this is a dream.
"And this is your solution."
The man turns to me as the pieces click into place. There's a brief moment as he closes his eyes, as if pained, before he pins me with his gaze. Contrary to the tones he used while speaking to Nabu, he's now gentle, as if breaking bad news.
"My name is --"
"Kent Nelson." I cut him off. I bring up a hand towards my head, a gesture of habit more than anything, as I don't feel the headache I expect to have. "I know."
"...I'm sorry to say, bit since you're here with us now... that means that you're..."
"Dead." I squeeze my eyes shut. "I know."
"What is your plan." / "What's your plan?"
We speak at the same time and there's a moment where we make eye contact -- if that was possible with a disembodied helmet -- before I turn back to Mister Nelson. "Sir."
He's gazing out into the darkness, which now that I look closer, truly is an empty nothing. We're standing in the middle of a void, and though we're clearly in the light, I can't help but shiver.
"The ritual Zatanna Zatara used on Doctor Fate was to absolutely and cataclysmicly remove the spirit of Nabu from the living plane. Which is why we're all here together, on this side." Mister Nelson gestures out into the expanse of darkness. He inclines his head, as if listening. "We're not supposed to be here like this. They're going to find us soon."
I can guess easily who he means, and I don't want to ask further. He's not finished explaining, so I hold myself from saying anything, even as I feel Nabu's impatience emanating in ripples.
"Nabu, even the most powerful sorcerer can't overturn something like that. What I can do, is send you back with someone else. Cut together pieces to make a whole."
"...you want me to be a host." I manage to say quietly. Mister Nelson looks away from addressing the helmet, turning to me with an odd look on his face.
"You choose a random being -- a deceased being -- and assume it is an adequate host?" Nabu demands.
"I had to work with what I could get, but I did try to get someone with the highest mystic potential available. We don't have the luxury of being picky."
"You know that Klarion's level of power --"
"Better for it to be you rather than some new Lord to have a chance of defeating him -- !"
I lose track of the conversation as their discussion grows more heated.
Damn it, I…
Who hasn't fantasized about something like this before? Getting thrown into a world of fantasy? Escaping the mundane world into the exciting lives that could only be found in fiction.
(I'm too young to die, only 19, how could I have died, I'm so scared, why did this happen)
I'd dreamed about this, because I'd never thought it was possible. It was something you yearned for because you couldn't have it.
How could this possibly be real?
"Look. We're dead. Dead. All three of us are. I'm just trying my best not to bring down the rest of the world with us." The severeness of his voice brings me back to the present.
"I don't… understand."
Mister Nelson sighs softly. "I plucked your soul and brought you here right after you died so that we could -- "
"No, I -- this… I'm dead, I can accept that -- " the gravity of that truth somehow settles as I say it out loud, a strange finality that is almost calming. "-- but you -- you're not real."
"What do you mean?"
"I -- I… don't think that this is my afterlife? This doesn't seem right. I don't understand how this is happening, this shouldn't be possible -- "
He's taking me seriously. I see the the cogs in his mind whirr, searching for the right reasoning. "...how did you know my name?"
"I read about you in a book that someone wrote. It was a fictional story, someone made it up for fun, it shouldn't be…"
Mister Nelson stares at me for a moment before a light seems to spark in his eyes. "Hah!" He lets out a bark of laughter, triumphant. "A being from a higher plane of existence! Nabu, you can't get more mystical than that!"
"I will speak with him."
Some of the hardness returns to Mister Nelson's expression. "I'm serious about the 'we don't have much time' thing. We need to make a decision, fast -- "
"And I will tell you the verdict. But I must speak with the boy first."
And Kent Nelson disappears.
"Is he…?"
"He is fine. I simply did not wish to deal with his interruptions." The helmet gently bobs up and down on an undetectable wave. "You are aware of the nature of the deal Kent Nelson is proposing?"
"You need a host to act on the… mortal? Plane. After you put on the helmet, only you can take it off again."
"In this case, our souls would be merged. You would don the helmet permanently."
Oh.
That… changes things.
"Giovanni Zatara was an unwilling host. That has wrought complications I was not fit to deal with. Now, with the merge being permanent, if you are unwilling -- "
A spike of fear through my heart. "No, I am willing." The words pour abruptly out of my mouth, but they are true. Real or not real, if I deny this opportunity, I would hate myself forever. "I just have no… desire, to become a mere puppet, watching as you control my body."
A pause. The helmet bobs steadily. "The fate of the world rests on a Lord of Order keeping the Lords of Chaos at bay. Even fully trained, you do not have the power to undertake that alone."
"I know, I know." I assure quickly. "We're not equals. You're the master. You know what to do the best; say the word and I won't resist. Just -- can't we work something out? Surely you don't fight all the time, right --"
A booming sound interrupts, and I flinch. Mister Nelson's voice echoes from everywhere at once. "You guys better not be taking too long, you hear…"
"All right, we can discuss that later." For a helmet, it's gaze is piercing and intrusive. Okay, only important details…
"If… if we die…"
"We are bound and will leave the mortal plane together."
I bite my lip. "So you'll die too? That's…" not good for Order, is it. "Why are you okay with this? I expected… this seems extreme."
"I judged wrongly." The admission is frank and to the point. (respectable)"The love Zatanna Zatara felt towards her father was more forceful than any destruction of Chaos. There will be repercussions."
I don't really have a response for that. I grit my teeth as I think…
"Do you find this proposal acceptable?"
Final answer?
"Yes."
"Why?"
Huh?
Come one, Lee, get a hold of yourself.
Easy answers are available immediately, but I clamp my mouth shut and truly think for a moment. Undoubtedly, I am being judged. Yet, I do not want to… choose an answer that would simply appeal to him. The answer that I would personally, fundamentally agree with…
"I've always wanted… to be given, opportunity. Might be a childish faith, to believe in luck and fate and all that. But I know from experience… hard work and skill doesn't guarantee success. I suppose this time, if this is what it is, then I'm the lucky one. And this is such an opportunity to do good. Justice, righteousness, order, I believe in these things. I have no qualms about… serving you." I stare deeply into the eye holes of the helmet, trying to connect with Nabu. "If only -- I have a condition -- if I ask for it, you will listen to what I say. If and when we disagree… I want to talk."
Suicidal probably, I have my doubts, but was it worth voicing them right now? Do I have complete faith in myself that I could convince Nabu of my opinions if I disagreed with him? His actions are overall good, overall for the protection of Earth, but how reliable is he? How much do I trust him?
And yet I want to take the leap.
"Besides, I'm dead anyways… is the afterlife all that great?" I add on, more of mumbling to myself. Wonder if he can take sarcasm?
"We will have… a long time to talk." It's difficult to pick up Nabu's tones with the almighty weight of his words, but that almost sounded wistful. "The rest of our lives."
"So it's decided?"
"Yes."
"About time; if we're going to do it -- " Mister Nelson's voice seems to be carried by the wind as it swirls around us, and his form is reconstructed from spiralling strips, making a whole. " -- we need to do it now."
With Mister Nelson's reappearance, I become aware that the atmosphere has grown much more oppressive. The chill is no longer passive, but lashes out with sudden cold bursts of wind. The shadows seem to swell and heave, streaks of darkness that look like clawed hands brushing at the edges of the light.
I take a step back, towards the centre, bumping into Mister Nelson. He puts a hand on my shoulder.
I hear him inhale, expecting him to say something, but it doesn't come. Slowly, I peer backwards at him, questioning.
"I am… sorry, for dropping this on you, son. Making it seem like you have no choice."
I frown, worried at his wording, as I turn to face him fully. "No, I'm -- " Breathe, say it properly. "...thank you, for giving me this opportunity."
A wry grin twists his face, tugging at wrinkles in a pleasing manner. He looks much better with a smile.
"Glad you think that way."
Mister Nelson lifts his cane slightly, before bringing it down with an thump that rings and echoes out into the abyss. With a flare of light, a golden ankh appears on the ground -- with me standing at the cross in the centre and the Helmet of Fate within the loop on the top end. The glow grows brighter as the winds whip past, magical energy crackling.
"Now off you go. Good luck."
The light grows blindingly bright as it engulfs everything and then there's only --
Light.
haaa I blame that one really popular (really good) Young Justice SI for inspiring me into doing this, though I'm sure I'm not alone in that. A bit of a problem is that I'm very not familiar with with comic book lore, only the TV series, so I appreciate any fun suggestions. I mainly write for fun and my own self-satisfaction, no desire to make a career out of it or anything, so please be gentle on me…
1.0 Steady
This time, this time it feels like waking up in the real world.
I'm on my knees, hands braced in front of me and keeping me upright. I blink hard, trying to clear the blurriness of my vision, head still stuffed full of cotton and lacking full awareness.
I reach up and rub my face, knocking my glasses askew. My hands… are shaking.
I feel full. Bloated. Throat feels closed off, choked with something I can't identify; not exactly a physical nausea, but a sensation of being close to bursting, barely holding it together --
Breathe. It's not painful, and I can work through the discomfort. Breathe. The sensation doesn't lesson, but I can push it behind me, and see --
A clattering of metal as it falls to the rough stone floor. A woman with long black hair standing before me, hands to her face and eyes wide.
She's looking past me.
"...Dad?"
"...Zatanna."
I don't think I have the capacity of moving and interrupting the scene in front of me right now. And it's not like I'd want to.
Zatanna Zatara takes a few hesitant steps forwards, before outright throwing herself at her father. The disparity in their ages from the last comparison I can make is clear. Zatanna was about the same height as her father now.
I can't see her face, buried in his shoulder, but I can see Zatara's. His eyes are screwed shut as he basks in the embrace, as if never wanting to let go. The lines in his visage twist deeply, making him look much older than I remember. His immaculate hair is slightly mussed from where his headwear was ripped off and thrown away, but otherwise, his appearance is almost supernaturally well-kept.
I'm already glad I did this.
I bite myself to keep from gasping as a roiling force stirs in my chest, but Zatara notices it and pushes away from his daughter with a small remorseful sound. I'm bent down further, curled to the ground, and I see his feet as he kneels and puts a hand on my back.
"...too much energy, too suddenly…" I hear him mutter, as he gently pulls me upright. Ugh, that doesn't feel good… "I need you to stay with me, okay? You're going to be alright."
I hear Zatanna's heels click as she approaches, wanting to assist, but her father stops and turns to look at her. "No Zatanna, stay back."
She complies, but hesitantly asks, "Dad? Who is this?"
"Nabu explained it to me before we were separated. Kent Nelson managed to find another being to act as a host, merging them permanently so that they could be sent back to this realm."
"S-sounds about right," I manage to say for once, forcing the words through my tight throat. My vision is blur -- where are my glasses? -- but I can make out the expression on Zatara's face. Concern? Compassion.
"Do you know what's wrong? Does Nabu?" Focus on what Zatara is saying. Answer.
"I don't… know… where is he … ?"
Where before the sensation was a constant wave, now it slams hard into me. A door, with a force pressing desperately against it, expanding, leaking through the cracks as the pounding gets frantic --
"Nabu? He's still here?" Zatanna's voice is is high with panic, but laced with the steel of rage --
A flash of golden light.
"I am here."
I watch the events unfold with my eyes, but it plays out like watching a scene through the lens of a camera. Like from a movie, or film. From a window.
Nabu turns my head, slowly, regally as he examines the scene. We are underground, a dark, high-ceilinged cavern lit only by primitive flame torches on the walls. The room itself is man-made, carved stone with antique design, detailed columns supporting the rock overhead. It is an open room, sporting signs of destruction, a recent fight.
Large chunks of rock torn from the walls and ground, statues of marble thrown aside and fragmented. Rows of coffins and biers overturned and crumbled. A tomb? Grave?
On the ground, a large ritualistic circle painted painstakingly across the entire expanse of the room. A ritual which was carried out successfully -- even with my existence being evidence enough, my senses seem to open as I gaze at the runes painted with an uncomfortably dark red substance. Though rationally, I cannot hope to comprehend the writings, I seem to be experiencing a… sixth sense.
It's difficult to explain.
"Zatanna Zatara." Nabu steps forwards -- with my body, gold-cloaked and gloved -- just as she steps back. I can sense the flow of magic in her core, flowing out to her arms, preparing for a fight --
I can't control my body. I can't even choose where to look. I can feel what Nabu is planning, how he feels what he is doing is right.
No, no, no --
"Nabu." Giovanni Zatara steps in his way, and I gaze up at him with Nabu's vision.
Zatara, you have to stop me!
"She has attempted to upset the balance by removing Order from the world. Her actions would have caused the destruction of the Earth, had they occurred as she had intended."
"You took my Father! He was my everything — "
Zatara holds out a hand to her, cutting her off. She looks incensed, but thankfully logic prevails as she regards him warily.
"And now the balance is restored once again. You are free to combat the evils of this world, and this time, I can even fight beside you. The outcome is favourable."
"She has conspired with the elements of Chaos in order to perform this ritual. She has acted in a way that is sacrilegious and destruc — "
"My daughter acted in what was just. She is not an agent of Chaos."
Listen to Zatara! Nabu, please, listen to me!
"This does not -- "
Nabu, do not let this be our first act!
He's stopped short.
...did I get through to him?
**We will speak of this later.** I hear Nabu's voice within my mental plane, rather than out loud.
Of course. Thank you.
Zatara notices our internal debate, and is bolstered to speak further. "My daughter acted out of her love. And I know you think it is one of the most chaotic magics of all. But love is the thing that is most right in this world, the greatest reason for what we do. We've had this discussion a hundred times, Nabu, and I know you'd come to agree with me, at least, sometimes."
...could Nabu feel…?
Through our link, he stays strangely silent, deliberately withholding his thoughts.
With a flap of his cape, Nabu turns away from the pair. Instead, he strides towards something gleaming and golden, inappropriately tossed on the dusty ground.
He bends and picks it up, moving with a smoothness I didn't know my body could possess. Nabu holds up the Helmet of Fate with his right hand, turning it so the eye holes look back at us. Had we not been wearing it before? Had Nabu been using my face to speak to the Zataras?
...I'll worry about that when we get to that bridge.
With a subtle flick of the wrist, he wills the magic forth, and the Helmet glows with arcane power. The light grows stronger, until only its shape is visible. It then collapses into itself, turning into streaks of gold that coil around us, coalescing at our core.
I feel the weight of the metal against my face. The helmet is properly donned.
"The integration of the Helmet of Fate should solve the issues of any magical strain. There should be no problem now." Nabu says, and I see Zatara nod in acknowledgement.
"Very well." Zatara still stands with his body partially blocking his daughter's. "Now…"
Nabu interrupts him. "Take care of my host." He says quickly, then the garb of Doctor Fate dissolves into motes of white light, unceremoniously dropping me onto the floor.
Hehe, is it cheating to use that emotion colour spectrum thing even though there are no Power Rings in this story? They're just so nifty, though.
The reason this took so long was because I was struggling with the pacing of this entire chapter(?). I think there are 3 more parts after this, and I've partially written everything out already to try to fit in what I want to. I'll try to fit into a more regular schedule. This part was actually intended to be 2 updates, but I'll post them together to make up with the lateness.
1.1 Steady
Mister Zatara picks me up to me feet. Again.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," I blurt out quickly. "I feel much better."
There's still a slight soreness of joints, still a bit of fogginess in my head, but it was a considerable improvement to the roiling nausea that overcame me before…
Before Nabu possessed me.
(I don't think the consequences of what I've agreed to have fully settled in yet…)
Zatara still looks me over, bodily turning me to check for injuries. I don't understand the fervour of his concern, but frankly, he's physically bigger than me so I don't do anything to stop him.
"...we can go back to my apartment," she says as her father finally slows down, satisfied.
"Not Shadowcrest?" Zatara asks, and I can sense how disquieted he is as he comes to realise just how much he's missed.
"Wait, no, you're right," she shakes her head to clear it. "Sorry, I haven't been..."
Her eyes are watching Zatara constantly; everything she moves to do something else she keeps being drawn back. She's fighting herself, and loses as her face clenches. "I didn't… expect this to work. I've tried so many times and..."
"Zatanna…" Zatara moves towards her. "My darling...."
"I'm sorry, I, I just -- " she scrubs at her face, using the sleeves of her sweater to catch any tears. "I'm just so relieved. Dad."
This feels almost rude for me to be watching. More so considering my… tenant.
I make myself as unobtrusive as possible, quietly leaned against boulder. Speaking of which, Nabu? Are you here? My mind has been unusually silent since his physical disappearance, but I can feel something, a new presence that I've never had before. It hangs around, constant and unyielding. I try to focus on the feeling, ignoring the exchange behind me as much as possible.
Mmmm I get the feeling he's ignoring me. Don't really blame him, would appreciate some time to think myself…
There's a tap on my shoulder, and I open my eyes to see Zatanna. "Ah, should we get going…?"
"There's really no rush," she says, but I straighten myself anyways. She speaks slowly, still with a tinge of caution. She smiles at me, but it's a performer's mask to assuage and relieve. It's actually quite amazing how quickly she's managed to compose herself.
I should state the important first, "I'm not Nabu. I hope that's, uh, clear. Honestly, I'm not even sure what he's doing now, he's not really saying anything -- "
"It's fine. I think I understand." I have to keep myself from fidgeting, but she's not entirely meeting my gaze either. Without the sheer mystic power that shrouded her when she was preparing for a fight, it's difficult to miss how young she is. She can't be much older than me. "Your eyes got kind of glowy when he was speaking through you. That was kind of scary."
"I'm... sorry?" How do I even respond to that? "But I hope now I'm not too bad?"
That gets me a slightly more genuine grin. "I suppose we'll see. So what do I call you now?"
"Hm?"
"Your name."
Oh uh. "It's Lee, but that's short for -- "
H-hang on. "...Lee? I'm sorry, I can't seem to -- to…" Why can't I remember my full name. Nabu, come on, talk to me.
A warning rumble, as if intruding on a dangerous creature's territorial solitude. Okay, I'll freak out about that later…
Zatanna wears a tiny, minute frown. There is the briefest moment of hesitation, before she reaches out and puts a hand on my shoulder. "That's… probably my fault. It's okay." She seems to steel herself. "We'll work it out. I'm… I don't think I can repay you, for taking my father's place."
"I think you have to wrong idea of what exactly happened." Not to make this awkward or anything, but I truly had very little say in the matter. I'm still surprised that... I'm living to see this moment.
(How did I die?)
"Regardless." The elder Zatara joins into the conversation, voice amazingly smooth and level even though I know for a fact they were crying together earlier. "You are now here in a position where you were not before. I am now free from my debt." He shrugs.
"I don't suppose you have anywhere to return too…?" A mindful question, gentle delivery…
I can't seem to remember my goddamned address. I know I should be panicking about this, but the emotion seems repressed, and my thoughts are surprisingly collected. This isn't the time for a breakdown, this isn't the time for questions. I can deal with it later.
I shake my head, and Zatanna nods to herself. "We can go to Shadowcrest, first." She speaks with hopeful conviction, newfound optimism overwhelming the exhaustion that lined her earlier.
"We'll work it out."
I believe her.
Shadowcrest is large and magnificent, an impressive sight to behold.
We'd left the underground chamber behind, coming up into an unidentifiable barren plains. Sand blows into my face with the cold night winds, as Zatanna chants an incantation that… through my sixth sense, seems rusty with disuse.
Metaphorical gates creak open on squeaky hinges, heavy and unkept. Then, through some physics-breaking miracle, space bleeds away to reveal Shadowcrest.
As we step over an invisible threshold, the backdrop changes from a sandy plains to a tree-filled thicket. The light of the moon casts shadows in the clearly uninhabited, abandoned manor, but it is less 'menacing', and more… 'mournful'.
We make the quick trip up the entrance's many stairs, which don't seem to correlate in exertion and length. The front doors stand over two metres tall, solid wood. Zatanna lays a hand on it and there is a pulse of magic, her hand the epicentre and a wave rippling out over the building, awakening it.
She sighs, almost wistfully. "Welcome home." She says so quietly, not meaning for anyone else to overhear.
Then she pushes the great door open. The double doors continue their swing, stopping just before their full arc. Incandescent lights bloom into being, illuminating all the rooms. As we walk in, the doors shut behind us on their own.
Zatanna and her father murmur amongst themselves, discussing. I try not to get in their way, looking around their main hall instead.
The house itself was designed to look like those luxurious western mansions, old and stately. Several of the chairs and tables were the antique kind, with the curved legs and clawed feet. There were allowances in the decoration, filled in with modern devices for convenience's sake -- light bulbs, digital panels, control switches. Framed magazine covers and newspaper clippings of Giovanni Zatara's performances hung on the wall.
It looked clean, but unlived in.
There's a digital clock perched on the side-table by the entrance, softly blinking, with the date displayed underneath.
30th November
03:14 EDT
"Is something wrong?" My body is tensed, I may have lingered too long...
"It was… February for me, last I remember." I look away, rubbing the back of my neck. "Sorry, could I use your bathroom?"
I get pointed in the right direction with just a slight look of concern, and carefully close the door behind me, fiddling with the unfamiliar lock. It clicks shut, and I turn around the face the room, back pressed against solid wood.
It's fancy, like the rest of the manor, but not exorbitantly so. Disregarding everything else that has happened, I could just pretend that I was using the bathroom at a friend's house, staying over for the night.
There's a large square mirror hanging over the sink.
I'm not sure what I expect to see. I put the palms of my hands on the edges of the marble countertop, leaning forwards into the mirror. Still with the same fair face and long-ish straight hair. Still with the glasses and T-shirt and jeans. Same body; long limbs on the outer edge of gangly, been slowly trying to fill them out as I grew older. Tall for an Asian, but average everywhere else.
My eyes are dark brown, but on the very edge of the iris, there is a faint corona of gold.
Okay. Okay.
I didn't really have a reason to excuse myself apart from this. I'm not sure if this confirmation even benefited anything. The silence is suddenly deafening, so very apparent that it's quiet after all that had happened in the past few hours.
I run the tap and wash my face, at least giving me a reason to be here.
Okay. This is happening. You really can't ignore it any longer, Lee.
When I get back to the hall, I spot Zatanna's dark hair in the connected sitting room, and present myself at the doorway. She's seated on the sofa, legs pulled up under her. She rests an arm over her eyes, and I'm worried she's fallen asleep, but she stirs as I approach and sits upright, turning to face me.
"Dad's gone to bed. He's… quite exhausted." Zatanna looks away as she says that, but it doesn't quite hide the tightening of the corners of her lips. She turns back to meet my eyes. "Are you tired? We can find a place for you to sleep."
"No, I'm quite awake, actually." My body clock tells me that I think it's still mid-morning, and after what just occurred, I don't think I'm ready to sleep yet. "Thanks, though…"
She gestures to the sofa across from her. "Might as well join me, then. I have a meeting in just a few hours. Don't think it's worth it to risk oversleeping to."
It's said in jest, and I do her the courtesy of a small chuckle. She relaxes minutely, though not completely.
"Do you… think you can remember anything more about yourself?"
The thing is, it's not that I don't remember -- I can recall my history, but only in broad strokes and partial images. I was a uni student, studying programming overseas at (I can't remember) in (what country?). I enjoyed drawing and reading stories; my favourite book was (something about colours). Recently, I was really into a show called --
Thinking about it this way just worked me up. "Honestly, I can probably tell you more about yourself than me."
"Really?" She leans forward challengingly, grin growing wider. "Try me."
"Right." I steeple my fingers, elbows on my knees and fingertips on my lips. I point the triangle my fingers make forwards. "Zatanna Zatara."
As I think on her name, the details come up with more ease than when I try to think about my own. "Only child of Giovanni Zatara, who's a stage magician as well as a member of the Justice League." Dates and times and specifics on mystic theory, comparisons of strengths and weaknesses in combat -- "You've taken after his skills and are following in his footsteps."
I pause, and she notices. A questioning sound. "I um. Think that some of my knowledge is coming from…" Nabu, but I couldn't bring myself to say his name around her.
"Go on."
Children fighting, young at war -- "You're part of a youth team under the supervision of the Justice League, have been for several years." A meeting. "Oh, but you're getting promoted?" Scandalous news, righteous, protective anger. "You've dated… what's his name, Robin."
"Nightwing now, and only for a bit."
"You really like…" A wisp, a child's voice saying 'These are my favourite!' "...delphiniums?"
And she flinches.
"I -- I, oh crap, that was probably going too far, it felt like something I shouldn't have known, sorry -- "
I trail off my babble as she composes her thoughts. "No, it's not your fault. That was just… something I'd only ever shared with my father."
"Oh." God, the tension in the room just skyrocketed. Her thoughts whir loudly as her mind jumps to the implications. From the tightening of her lips, a negative conclusion. I can follow her train of thought, but… I don't think it'll be any good to speculate when we can ask them in the morning.
There's something, I really want to ask now, though. And it's not like the atmosphere can get any worse.
"Can I ask… what was you plan? Because… well, with me here, it seems like I was the wrench that was thrown into it."
She hesitates, but it's more of considering how to word something pause. "The ritual was to seal Nabu's essence in the Astral Plane. It's supposed to be a one-way trip, so he couldn't even reform back here." A wry tilt of the lips. "That didn't work."
"Mmm… But, Kent Nelson -- he sent us back. He said that there had to be a Lord of Order on earth to counter Klarion, gave a whole explanation all 'doom on the world' style, actually."
"Did he?" There's a twinkle in her eyes as she imagines the scene.
"Yeah, it'll probably be funny to think about in the future."
She puckers her lips as she thinks about what to say next. "Well, if it had worked on him, the Justice League would've gotten my dad back, a magical fighter. I'm sure altogether we could've taken down Klarion the same way, then we wouldn't have to worry about either of them -- "
-- Sudden and overwhelming and bursting open --
"You're a fool." Nabu says with my voice, as I'm suddenly thrown back into the window-seat of my mind. The abruptness of the shift leaves me completely disoriented, haphazardly clinging to any senses to stabilize myself.
I see Zatanna's eyes widen, see her jumping to alertness, see her ready a combat-stance.
Nabu. Nabu you can't hurt her.
We hadn't changed in appearance, still sitting in jeans and T-shirt, but from the way Zatanna looks at me, I can tell my eyes have fully taken on a golden hue. Nabu lifts my posture, sitting ramrod straight, hands in fists on my knees.
"You think to control forces with power you can barely imagine, overthrow authorities which keep this world in Order -- "
"And yet." Zatanna speaks in even, tempered tones, outrage controlled by sheer will. "I took you down."
"You fight with Chaos! It has tainted you!" Nabu shoots to his feet, staring her down. "And now you seek to turn my host against me. I will warn you now, there will be consequences."
"I have no quarrel with Lee." Her eyes are so incredibly hard, diamond plates containing a raging storm. "I don't know why he was dragged into this. As far as I'm concerned, he's innocent."
"We are now merged. We are now one. This boy's only anchor to this world is me." There is malice in my voice that is uncharacteristic, jarring. "If you repeat that ritual, he will die."
I AM A HUGE WUSS and my heart was feeling very embarrassed about posting(that... translates horribly but I don't think there's an English equivalent for paiseh ...) Thank you so so much @FancyMolasses for the help with this and getting me on my feet!! The next 2 updates are ready and waiting, I'll post them in the coming days
1.2 Steady
I'm kind of numb.
Nabu pilots my body. With a swirl of golden light, the weight of my clothing changes to the heavy cape of Doctor Fate, helmet rested on my face. He steps off and rises into the air, flying with the aid of magic.
A sensation of roiling emotions, but they seem distant and separate. I curl up into myself, trying to ignore any input as Nabu guides my body to a specific destination. Breathe, I tell myself, but my mantra doesn't even work. My breathing is already even without my control, Nabu regulating my body's functions. I probably should be grateful, but currently it does nothing to help ground me.
A growing glow, a brief lurch as we step into another plane and back again to this one; a long-distance teleport spell.
30th November
16:47 GMT+8
**We will talk now.**
...where are we?
**There is something I wish to know of you.** Nabu hovers high in the air, unmoving as he speaks with me in my mental plane. The ground spreads out far below us, buildings mere specks in the distance. Late afternoon sun baths the city in orange, heat haze causing the view to shimmer slightly. **Kent Nelson stated that you were from a higher level of existence. I must know the differences.**
**You are not familiar enough with the Americas to make an accurate comparison.** Nabu halts his hover, and the air seems to warp as we zoom to the ground faster than it should be possible. He stops an inch above the road of an empty alleyway, and takes a final, graceful step onto solid ground as his recognisable clothes melt away into light.
**Hence, we are here.**
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I grew up here.
But it's a place I haven't returned to in over 5 years. I'm not sure what comparisons you want me to make.
**It is the place you have lived in the longest.**
We did… move. A lot. I'll try.
I feel Nabu shift his consciousness off to the side, allowing me to rise up to the gap and take control. I look down at myself, unassuming in civilian clothing, watching as I clench and unclench my fingers into fists with my own will.
(Thanks, I guess…
**You are welcome.**
Ohrighthesinmyhead—)
I start walking at a leisurely, standard pace, no particular destination in mind. We're on the edge of town -- the tips of the Petronas Twin Towers piercing the sky in the distance. Here, though, still lay the residential homes and condominiums, and the stores that I can see are family owned. They're… kind of familiar…
And I remember. Behind the muralled wall was a staircase that led down to a respectably sized sundry shop, concrete floor and walls but well lit and well stocked. We visited it often, as it was closer than the supermarket, and I used to linger along the strings of action figures sealed in colourful packaging, zip-tied along the wire racks at kid height. Rip-off, wrongly-coloured, cheaply made models for sale, but the superhero figures were still something interesting and popular.
I pause as the sensation washes over me, like a rush that originated from my chest. I can remember.
**Explain it to me.**
First, most obvious difference -- we… didn't have superheroes. They were just popular characters, in a fictional comic book world. Everyone knew who Batman and Superman were, but they were fake. Not real people like they are here.
There were movies and shows telling all sorts of stories about them. I… was not a very avid fan, I think. I liked the concept of superheroes -- who didn't? Incredible people who could solve the world's problems. What we would have given to have something like that.
But in the end, they were all just rather… simple. The story of good prevailing over evil was just a salve to help us in our complex, day to day lives.
**Who protected the people? Who upheld order?**
The… police I guess? (I remember riots, tear gas, unjust arrests) The government, they try their best. (I remember blackouts, false ballots, an unfair democracy)
My gait slows to a stop. We were coming up to one of the central districts, with more people milling about on foot. We can see more of the city, from here. Older, crumbling buildings juxtaposed against high-rise modern structures built by foreign investors. Graffiti scribbled against any exposed surface, marking territory with garish colours. Layers of flyers over layers of flyers, piling up into an ugly wall of weathered paper against the grates of abandoned storefronts. Posters and flags of propaganda from the election years ago, never bothered to be taken down. Bright red of the parliament overpowering everything else.
My country really isn't the best example for this.
**And so, you left.**
An ethnic Chinese doesn't have much of a future in Malaysia, where birth is everything.
As I kid I held dreams of working hard, changing things. Things that my parents dreamed of, my grandparents dreamed of. I wanted to learn what I could overseas, then come back. I got a scholarship to Singapore and left.
(I remember a conversation, eager and naive and painfully young -- 'I love my country. I'm coming back.')
**And this… is the 'higher existence'.**
We'd wandered further down the row; found an open aired coffee shop in the corner. Plastic chairs and foldable tables spill out onto the street, but are currently deserted apart from a handful of diners, as it was just after the lunch time rush. A large television bracketed to hang near the ceiling, the voice of the newscaster cutting through the empty silence.
I don't know what Mister Nelson meant by that. Higher doesn't necessarily mean better, does it? I still don't entirely understand why you've brought me --
" -- our condolences to the families of the young men and women lost in -- "
-- here.
Nabu's silence is poignant as my attention is drawn to the news playing on the TV.
**...I needed to know the differences.**
18 KILLED IN UNIVERSITY HOSTAGE CRISIS, says the scrolling text.
...what?
A middle-aged man, sitting at one of the tables, holding a newspaper aloft. He flips a page over noisily.
I approach him, almost stumbling, but catch myself on the edge of his table. He jumps at the sound.
"Uncle, can I borrow that?" His glance flickers anxiously, but he holds out the paper. I barely hold myself back from ripping it from his hands.
BANK ROBBERY GONE WRONG, CASUALTY COUNT RISING, says the headlines. I rifle through the pages with frantic energy. THOUSANDS DISPLACED AFTER FIGHTING CAUSES LANDSLIDE
CHIEF PUTS DOWN RUMOURS OF ALLEGED SERIAL MURDERS, 6 STILL MISSING
KL POLICE TO ENFORCE CURFEW AFTER DARK
PRIME MINISTER DEFENDS DECISION TO SHOOT TO KILL
$14,000 WORTH OF FIREARMS SEIZED IN RAID. MAIN SUSPECTS STILL AT LARGE
CRIME RATE HIGHEST IN 20 YEARS
"Why…" My throat feels so dry, tongue thick in my mouth. "... is it worse?"
A hand shaking my shoulder. "Boy? Are you okay?"
I throw down the newspaper on the table. "T-thank you. Sorry for the trouble." I turn on my heel and make my way out as fast as I could without outright running.
Why is it worse?
**It seems like the Lord of Order from your world has done a better job than I.** The admission is frank and objective, but sits so wrongly with me. No, no, that's not it.
We didn't have a Lord of Order.
There's a stunned pause. **You must be mistaken.**
I've told you already, when we first met. You were merely characters from a comic book.
**I had assumed… that the Kent Nelson of your world had simply published the autobiography that he had intended too… There has to have been some manifestation of Order and Chaos, it is impossible to exist without -- **
We didn't have magic.
**What?**
Magic only existed in fiction. You only existed in fiction.
**That cannot possibly be true. Humanity cannot exist without Chaos. And with Chaos, Order rises up against it in tandem, two halves of a whole.**
But we didn't have this! We didn't need a Lord of Order to deal with all this… all of this…
**It is a Lord of Order's duty, to keep their Chaos counterpart in check, to maintain the balance and harmony of -- !**
Well, we didn't have any Lords of Chaos either! That's pretty balanced, isn't it?
**No…** And it's the tone he uses that catches me completely off guard.
It's almost a sheer cry of despair. In a single word, he fits in all the emotion he had been withholding from me this entire time. Pain and fear, layered on so strongly, I can feel it.
(I find myself wanting to drop the subject.)
My country… is not the best. It's not the worst of the third-world countries, but can't compare to any of the developed ones. I still think it has been one of my best decisions to leave. But it's still my country. It's one of the things you can never change about yourself, your origin.
(I remember the word 'Merdeka', in my mother tongue, sounding sweet in an accent I miss so dearly. A word that is intertwined so strongly in my heritage, so sincere in its sound that it pierces through the heart of any of my countrymen, ringing clear with celebration and jubilee. Freedom.)
We're in the air. I didn't even notice Nabu taking control. I only realise where we are by the quietness after Nabu's voice trails off, save for the sound of wind blowing. I use his sight to look down over my city, in a new light.
**You must not tell this to anyone.**
Tell… what? The -- the differences between our worlds? The fact that it's worse -- or the fact that you're meant to be.. Comic book characters? Or why you're afraid --
No. No, you're right. If this is what your reaction is like, I don't really want to reveal it to anyone else either. Nobody… has to know why…
But… we can do something about it, right? If we now know anything that can help, we have to power to do things, make things better --
We have to do something.
Nabu says nothing, but he doesn't need to. What we feel now is only conviction.
Nabu doesn't make any sign of acknowledging my request, but I feel his planned course alter slightly nonetheless. He swipes his arm, calling forth a large golden ankh, preparing another teleport back.
30th November
20:16 EDT
Coming through this time, I can feel a drain on my energy. Nothing crippling, but still noticeable as a sudden lack of warmth touches icy fingers on my core. It made sense -- magic, mana, and all that. If anything, I'm surprised that such a long-distance transport didn't just deplete me completely.
We re-appear hovering above an expanse of forest, no manor in sight. I'm confused for a moment, but Nabu sends out a pulse of magic, knocking on an invisible door. A delay, and suddenly Shadowcrest shimmers into existence below us.
Security measure? Or common courtesy?
**Both.**
...Good to know. (That he answers…)
We drop down to ground level. The great entrance doors open and shut automatically as we float in. The magic dissipates off my body, lowering myself to the floor, and with that, Nabu quietly relinquishes his control. The transition is smooth, hardly breaking my step.
"In here," comes a voice from down the hall.
I follow it, and find a large, high-ceilinged room. Past the countertops and kitchen unit, a section of the space was dedicated to a lounge, with a huge folding door on the outside wall leading into a patio, currently open. Giovanni Zatara stands facing away from me, towards a widescreen television playing the current news.
"Did you know," Zatara starts, not taking his eyes off the television. It flashes to Zatanna's smiling visage briefly, as it in turn showcases all the members of the Justice League. "That my daughter is being inducted into the League at this very moment? Apparently, she had considered this morning's event as a 'final attempt' against Nabu, before becoming part of the same organisation."
He sighs. "Terrible girl."
He says that is such a long-suffering, affectionate way, though. It's heartwarming.
I approach him with hesitant steps, ducking my head in respect to speak to the older man. "Sorry, for leaving so suddenly."
"Zatanna explained what happened." He turns to face me, an incredibly wry grin on his face. "Don't worry, I know very well how Nabu can be."
Goodness, I very nearly wince. He's… not angry though. Looking closer, there's no negative reminder from what he had been enduring on his temperament. There's still a physical exhaustion that hangs around him, but it seems to have been improved after a good night's sleep.
I know he catches me looking, but he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he makes his way onto the island counter in the kitchen area. There were plastic bags of groceries waiting to be put away, and Zatara rifles through them, finds a persimmon, goes to the sink to wash it.
"Do you think you can eat? Generally, Nabu's hosts would be sustained from their connection to the plane of Order." He pulls a fruit knife from a drawer, cutting it into segments. "So I apologize if I seem to be constantly eating now."
Oh my god. Is this okay to be talking about?? So soon?? Does that mean he hasn't eaten in five years? It wasn't like he could've taken the helmet off to eat right?? What about sleeping? Oh god, is he alright??
He's still waiting for me to answer. "I don't… feel? Hungry?" But I haven't eaten in almost 24 hours. Fuck, am I alright??
Zatara puts the cut fruit on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards me. "Have some," he offers, having already taken a segment for himself.
"...thank you. Um, sir." Hasn't told me what to call him yet.
"Giovanni is fine." Ah, but, elder…?
(Right, western culture.)
"Thank you… Giovanni." And he knows I'm not talking about the fruit.
He comes around to the other side of the counter, taking a seat on the high chair beside me. Places an arm on my back.
"Nabu is…" A pause, searching for words. "Charming. In his own way." I have to temper my expression of disbelief to not come off as too rude. Seeing my skepticism, he waves it off and explains further. "He… tries his best, to do what is right. He is not purposefully evil, or cruel, even if he does have… an obsession with justice.
"But still, an acquired taste." He tries to smile a bit, but it's too solemn. The point between his brow creases, and he closes his eyes for a moment.
"I was fully prepared to bear this burden so my daughter didn't have to," Giovanni begins, looking right at me. "And here you come along, paying the price for me instead.
"The hero ins me finds this unfair."
"I don't mind," I say quietly. "I really don't. Considering the alternative..."
(Do I tell him?)
I meet his eyes, trying to keep my tone level. "I was dead. That's kind of how Mister Nelson… found my soul. That's why he could patch us together, send us back. I don't really hold any dreams of going back to my old home — if it's even here. But still, I'm grateful, I really am. To.. to live."
He's quiet for a good, long while, and I look down at my clasped hands, not really expecting a prompt response. I wouldn't know how to reply either.
"...how old are you?"
"Nineteen. Turning twenty in... April."
I can sense the comparison his mind makes as he considers my age. I can feel his resignation as he bows his head.
"Lee…" I look up to meet his eyes. There's a hesitation to it. "Is it alright if I speak with Nabu?"
I'm not really the person to be asked in that tone -- but the being in question rises in answer, and while not forceful like before, my control is shunted to the back of mind. I'm more put off than anything, but Nabu seems like the person who's used to doing things his way.
...this is how he has been spending most of the time, anyway. Watching, unable to do anything. I don't want to feel guilty about being in control -- it's my body. But I want to try to understand things from his point of view as well.
I watch, as if through a window, as Nabu blinks, before resting his gaze on his former host. Giovanni straightens, but there's a callousness to his posture in the way he leans on the counter.
"I'd never expected that we'd get the chance to speak like this." A gesture with his hand, back and forth. "Face-to-face."
"...Neither did I. You were meant to be the only one."
"She still hates you for it."
"She has reason to."
A sigh, forlorn. Giovanni almost looks like he wants to throw his hands up. He laces his fingers together instead.
"...I don't expect things to be easy."
Nabu doesn't respond in any way, stoically watching.
"Take care of him, Nabu."
I feel his grip on my body loosen, as if letting go, but Giovanni makes a motion and we both stop in our tracks. But as soon as Giovanni speaks, he cuts himself off, then looks pensive.
"Is Lee aware when you are in control like this?"
"Both of us are constantly connected. We… work together, like this." The word rolls out strangely, as if it was odd for him to even consider that. "If we had conflicting goals, it could become very complicated."
"So you are equals." Giovanni nods to himself.
"...Yes." Nabu sounds like he's bitten into a lemon, and Giovanni snorts.
There's a sensation of grumbling at that reaction, and when Nabu relinquishes his control, it almost feels like a petty kind of retreat. I almost laugh as a confused reflex, but bite myself to hold it in.
"You're very.. candid, with him," I say around my stinging tongue. I'm not entirely sure if that's the right word, but Giovanni turns to make eye contact, crows feet crinkling with his small smile.
"Nabu and I are friends too."
Five years does seem like a very long time.
And then I yawn.
(So I can feel tired...
**...limits to this body…** Nabu says, in that grumbling tone.)
I cover my mouth with both hands, rubbing at my face, and when I look back, Giovanni wears an almost fond smile. I couldn't help the way my eyes lingered on it. Huh.
"Get some rest. Zatanna has arranged for us to talk to Batman tomorrow." He pats me twice on the back, pushing off to stand with a grunt. I move to follow him, falling in step slightly behind.
He brings me over to an empty guest room, with a clean and made bed. The entire house was very well-maintained even being out of use for years, and I can only assume that it was done mystically.
Giovanni leans against the doorframe.
"I was hoping… we would be happy for you to live with us," he says. He tries to be gentle in the delivery, but the request is surprising enough that I spin around to face him, eyes wide.
"Zatanna is okay with that?" I can think of situations which would be highly uncomfortable, but Giovanni shakes his head.
"She has agreed." He straightens, hands clasped, so that his next words could be said in assurance, no doubt in their certainty.
"I want to train you. There is probably no one else as suited for this than me." I'm struck by his shocking blue eyes, genuine in their compassion. "Mystically, you're already very strong, for Nabu to use as a host. But with training, you can be strong in your own right as well."
It's a logical procession, one that I'd hoped for, if the Zatara's didn't feel too hardly. But I'm touched by the clear investment he already has, as if he'd lose out if I disagreed. "You're too kind," I force out, stumbling through my words. "You're really -- gosh, this is… Thank you, for caring," I finish kind of lamely. He chuckles.
"There is also the team -- you know of them?" I nod slowly. "They are young people, around your age. Hopefully we are able to convince Batman to let you meet them as well.
"I think Nabu would enjoy it there too, actually." Giovanni excuses himself with a motion, turning away. "After all, there is no greater justice than the justice of the young."
He starts to walk away, but what he says is thrown around my mind in a whirlwind. He's speaking of how children are always see the truth, that Bible verse, but the way he phrased it —
When I was about ten or eleven, I found out about something called the Method of Loci on the Internet, a technique used to improve your memory, and I thought it was super cool and would enhance my mind and become some sort of genius prodigy (I was a little shit). Later on I realised that I'd never reach the extent I'd originally intended, as I stopped caring about being too intelligent (because that made me a little shit). I'd already established a kind of memory palace though, and used it to help me remember things I really didn't want to forget.
It took the form of the terrace house we had in KL, a single coloured block amongst a row of featureless terraces that stretched towards infinity. The outside gate rolls away as we approach, letting us into the tiled driveway. Malaysian front doors usually consisted of an outer, padlocked grill, and a regular locked door behind it. Both unlock seamlessly, opening by some unseen force.
Inside this house, I arranged many, many mementos from events I cherished, so that the memories associated with them wouldn't be forgotten. It may just be in my mental plane, but I'd spent ages going over the actual item, familiarising myself with details, that by the time I could recreate it in my mind palace, it was easy to recognise the feelings and thoughts I was thinking at the time of the event.
Inside, this house lay barren.
Not completely -- there were still handfuls of items exactly where I had left them, grounded by their deep impressions. But where before was an organized clutter, arranged in a way only I understood, now a good majority of the furnishings were missing, giving the house an almost sterile feel. Chunks of wall and floor seemed to be removed outright, leaving an empty space that only led to void.
As I navigated through the rooms I know I'd been in hundreds of times before (but can't seem to remember), Nabu accompanies me in the form of the floating, glowing Helmet of Fate.
"I think that I used to know your future," I tell him, walking through the main hall. It seems much larger when there is no furniture in the way.
(Piano to the left -- there was a story to how we got it…
Certificates, framed above it -- my own achievements, I was trained.)
"And in the same way, I know a bit of your past." Because there were some things I knew, that I couldn't explain either Nabu or Giovanni or Mister Kent knowing. About the team.
We walk to the centre of the living room, dodging around a hole in the floor. I turn to face him, grimacing. "What you did to Mister Zatara…"
(On the shelf, my Pokemon cards -- my brother drew and made some himself because the rare ones were expensive)
"I do not deny that what I had done was extreme."
"A lot of people were angry at you… Still angry at you." I rub my toe on a scratch in the wooden floor (by colour pencils -- sister did that). "It's going to be difficult to earn their trust again.
"And we have to. We have to work with the other heroes." I press my gaze upon him. His body language here seems almost human, as much as a helmet could be. The blaze of the eye-holes were practically defiant, and I question the wisdom of challenging him to a stare-off, but he finally relents and turns away.
"...I know."
Front hall leads into dining area, then kitchen. Nothing… important here. There was a section of spices with colourful labels, which I used to help me memories compatible and incompatible ingredients. Mostly trivial details, which for some reason were left intact.
I backtrack to the hall, where there was a dog-leg staircase leading to the second floor. I brush my fingers along the vertical bars supporting the staircases' railings as I walk along under it.
"I had never done something as absolute as that before. It has also left… me, changed."
"Is that why you're okay with this?" I don't really look at him, eyes up and trailing the plaster filigree that decorated the ceiling. I'm surprised by their detail (I used to lie down and nap here, staring up at the ceiling for ages.). "...Okay with me?"
A thoughtful pause.
"You are a sufficient host. Once you are trained… once we are at our peak… " He trails off, but it's obvious where he was going.
"I don't mind sharing our body if you dont. But can I ask something…" That really needs to be said. "Please don't… suddenly take control. It's very disorienting."
"When I am in control, it is perfectly within your abilities to wrest it away, and make my command very difficult," he admits, to my shock. "I do not fathom why you are too timid to do so."
I turn and stare at him for several moments. That first time, when he wanted to try and kill Zatanna, was it actually my will that stopped him?
But he's right, apart from that time, I barely fought back when he tried to use my body, going along with it instead.
"I'm honestly not… a very confrontational person, I dont think." A bout of nervous chuckles twist my lips.
"That is a lie. You are capable of standing tall when you need to."
"I mean… If I have to?" I run a hand through my hair, mindful of his intense gaze. "Then I'll do my best."
"And as you said, there is something we must do now."
"Yeah."
I rub my hands on the ornament on the bottom end of the staircase railing. It curved into an interesting round shape, smooth from the years of hands touching it.
"Upstairs is where I keep the… important things," I tell Nabu, not really sure if he was interested. He still follows me steadily.
The right-most room: my parents' and baby sister's room. I don't think… she wasn't very young anymore, before this happened. But this house was associated with my childhood, when she had just been born. And looking inside --
(Pillows under the table, I liked to squeeze under there and read -- )
(I drew her something for her birthday, she loved it so much --)
(A photo of us, all five of us, together and happy and whole and oh so long ago -- )
-- my memories of family, though their faces are still blurred, the feelings I'd kept painstakingly where still there.
Back to the corridor, to the left-side: my room at the end of the hall, brother's room to the left.
My brother's room kept my hobbies and interests, since he was the one who introduced me to most of them.
Covering the walls are sheets of paper, splashed with colour. (My technique, workflow, ingrained in memory.) Countless little sketches on display, of things I had studied enough to draw (Anatomy, structure, composition). My art.
Oh I see -- skills, I'd kept my skills.
The other side of the room, closer to the window -- which showed only a blank white light, almost harshly so-- was unfortunately more affected. A desk was set up against the wall, a PS2 hooked up to a small CRT positioned at an angle. The shelf where we kept our games had one end eaten away, leaving the board hanging off the other end and the disc cases scattered on the ground. Their covers were mostly blank, wiped clean.
I walk around the clutter towards the bookcase. Here, several of the books still held their detailed covers, but when I flipped through them, chunks of text were missing.
At least it proved one thing.
I pick up an action figure of Marvel's Vulture (it was a Christmas gift.) fiddling with his wings. "Not everything I've read is gone. If I can remember this guy, there might be things I remember of this world."
Not really sure why I'm saying it aloud. Nabu watches me silently as I adjust Vulture's feet, leaving him standing on the shelf as we walk out of the room.
My bedroom stored my…
My --
A burst of panic, and I rush to the door and fling it open --
There's nothing.
The floor drops away, as if the entire room was ripped from the house, leaving only a nebulous void. It fizzled and cracked, like static, but the feeling of emptiness was incredibly profound.
"What do you think… caused this?" My voice is surprisingly steady, detached.
"An obvious answer. You had died."
"And that… made me forget?"
The glow in his eye holes dim, then brighten, as if blinking. "I do not blame you. Death is… traumatic. That you do not possess your memories in their entirety simply proves you to be a sane man."
(How does he know?)
I close the door gently, hand held on the knob for a few chaste moments and it sinks in.
Back to the corridor. One final room.
This last room room was thankfully untouched, probably because it didn't hold much in the first place.
It originally led to a small rooftop garden, with walls of frosted glass. The previous owner, however, paved it over to make it into another bedroom on the second floor. He renovated it to have a sunroof of coloured glass. Before, we only used it for storage or the occasional guest room, which I thought was a waste, because the sun shining through the glass truly was quite pretty.
Here, I used it to hang photographs, of loved ones I had lost.
Right now, there was only one, in an elegant wooden frame. A beloved mentor who was stabbed in a robbery. I was young enough that I only experienced this once before.
I need… to add to this, as soon as possible. We still weren't completely sure if my hazy memories would improve as time progressed, or if I would lose them entirely. If I put down whatever I could remember now, I could always add to it if I remembered more later, but if there was one thing I couldn't bear to forget —
"We should meditate on what you can recall of this world. It would be good to do that as soon as possible."
"Can I…" my voice wavers as I think about my friends, my loved ones, whom I had left behind. "Can I do this first?"
The silence stretches out, and I turn to face Nabu, nervous. Mm we probably should do the other thing first, it was more relevant, after all…
But in the end I didn't have to worry.
"Of course," Nabu says. "Take as long as you need."
Inventory stock: my clothes -- grey jeans, black collared shirt, red bandana, underwear, binder. My glasses, watch, two keys on a carabiner, black sneakers and white socks. My iPhone 5, a tiny crack in the corner of the screen, for some reason formatted back to factory settings. In its folding faux-leather case, the slots for cards held my debit card, bus card, student ID, and driver's license. All the details that could tell me more about myself were wiped clean, except for the ID picture. They looked really weird that way, very suspicious.
Giovanni had dug up some of Zatanna's old clothes (which, mortifyingly, fit decently enough) for me to sleep in. The ones I had been wearing, thrown over the foot of the bed, still clean despite everything. I'd changed back into them when I woke up.
I'd gotten maybe four hours of sleep.
I was awake for that entire exchange with Nabu, in my head, which was really really trippy wow. I struggle to call what I usually do meditating (it sounds really pretentious gosh), but when I'd previously viewed my mental scape it's more of referring to my memories of examining objects and my spatial orientation of them. With Nabu, it was easy to imagine the entirety of my mind palace as if it were as real as where I was standing now.
Like magic, y'know?
So. Four hours of dreamless, dead sleep, and I feel disproportionately well rested.
**The plane of Order sustains you.** Nabu's tone is begrudging, as if disturbed from slumber. Nonetheless, appreciated. **Not to the extent of a full host, but you are blessed with more resilience than a baseline human.**
I'd been kind of pacing around the room, going through what I have and trying to kill time as I grappled with the idea of going out while it was still so early in the morning. I was still a house guest, wasn't I, so it was kind of rude to be wandering around their home without permission. Giovanni was definitely still asleep; I caught him holding yawns to himself last night and I doubt he's fully recovered from everything. I'm not certain if Zatanna has even returned to Shadowcrest yet, and she did mention having a place of her own…
I wander over to the outer edge of the room and pull back the curtain to peer outside. Morning dew frosts up the windows, but the lack of sunlight makes things hard to see anyway. The slightest rays are beaming over the horizon, but overall it was still quite dark.
Behind me, the door swings open with a creak, noticeably loud in the silent night.
I whirl around, jumping at the sound, but the words die on my lips as I see… nothing. The door to my room is wide open, but there wasn't any apparent cause visible.
(who…?)
I cautiously approach, sticking my head out and looking left and right. The hallways were still unlit, and empty. No sound, not even the sound of wind blowing.
(I should check it out…)
This isn't some sort of horror situation, is it? Shadowcrest is undeniably magical, but could someone have forgotten to warn me that it might be haunted as well? Come on, I'm not going to die my first night here, am I…
Nonetheless, I feel myself — not pulled no, not an active coercion — but kind of nudged to a specific location, down hallways I don't recognize by sight, deeper into the mansion. It's as barren and uninhabited as you would expect it to be, but I… don't feel scared, like I would expect myself to. Shadowcrest is almost ethereal in the night, timeless with a hint of wonder.
I find myself standing in front of a door. Nothing special about it; one of many in a row down a lengthy hallway.
From this door, a series of knocks resound, breaking the silence and startling me.
That seems to be a catalyst. The fear I'd been expecting rushes up — holy shit what was I doing. Didn't I just -- I told myself I wouldn't -- I need to find Giovanni…
(But this can't wait! It's important!)
I don't want to mess with this! If it's dangerous --
**Fate spare me from another weakling.** I'd completely forgotten that Nabu was there and what are you doing --
Nabu takes my body forwards and flings open the door.
I feel like a kid getting a scolding…
**Hesitation such as that is the ultimate folly!**
Meanwhile, in the real world, fucking Batman stares me down. He's in full regalia, looking mighty threatening in his defined bodysuit and black cape, white eyes of his mask narrowed as he towers over me. Even though I'm certain this hall was located somewhere in the middle of the mansion, the room behind him opens up wider than should be possible, looking much like a decrepit alleyway still hidden in twilight darkness.
**You can sense the intent of Shadowcrest, you recognise it as an ally, but do not trust the decisions your own subconscious makes?**
I have no idea what he's reading off the expressions flashing on my face, as I struggle to keep them in check under Nabu's disapproving tone. I give up and hide the bottom half with my hands, meeting Batman's gaze with my own wide-eyed one.
**How do you intend to act as Fate's vessel if you even doubt the course of your life?**
There's a moment of somewhat awkward silence.
"...where is Zatara?" Batman's voice is deep and gruff, the kind that scrapes at your soul.
"Um." Yes I'm scared this is Batman. "I-I think he's still -- "
"I'm here." Giovanni hurries out, freshly clothed and hair still damp. Just showered, and slightly out of breath from his haste to get here. He plants both feet firmly facing Batman, hand on his hips. "Batman. You're early," he greets genially.
And it's just because I happened to be looking in the right place that I catch the briefest flash of emotion on Batman's harsh visage. The slightest softening around the eyes, jaw unlocking and lips parting the smallest amount --
Giovanni makes a motion and I tear my eyes away. I really didn't want to be caught staring. Giovanni has his arms spread open, a vaguely sheepish smile on his face, as if asking for a hug.
Batman strides past me, but veers to Giovanni's side, instead of head-on to reciprocate. He pauses beside him, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's good to have you back," Batman says, then continues down the hall, apparently knowledgeable of the layout of the house.
Left with just the two of us, Giovanni rolls his eyes, then gestures at me to follow.
We find him again in the sitting room, waiting and expectant.
"Batman, you are a guest. Sit." Giovanni speaks like a disapproving father. I honestly don't expect Batman to be cowed, but surprisingly, he abandons his firm standing position and lowers himself onto the couch.
(A jolt from Giovanni, as if he's sputtering in shock, but he doesn't…?)
Giovanni motions with his hands, and I take a seat on the sofa as well, across the coffee table from Batman. He sits impassively; arms folded across his chest, back straight, weight still balanced on his legs rather than in a more relaxed posture. But his eyes are less tensed, not that harsh glare that he had before; he's not even staring to hard at me -- only I am, Lee stop staring.
Giovanni returns with a steaming pot of tea, and a set of dainty teacups.
(Oh my god, western culture.)
I actually don't think my heart rate has come down just yet.
"We have a lot to discuss," Batman says, as Giovanni moves with surprisingly delicate precision, handling the porcelain teapot with gentle, careful fingers. I'm reminded that these are magician's fingers, capable of the finest gestures and motions.
"First things first -- is Nabu with us now?" And Batman is looking at me.
I instinctively jump up, and force myself to answer. "Yes -- what I see he sees, and vice versa." I think he wants to talk to you…? Nabu, we can --
We switch places fluidly, as easy as handing the remote to another person. Nabu rises in awareness, and my body reacts by shifting ever so slightly, into the posture Nabu would adopt. More neutral, more regal, less tense and jumpy.
Batman's expression is unreadable in the transition, but he acknowledges Nabu's presence with an inclination of the head.
"Doctor Fate, what is the current state of Order and Chaos?"
Nabu considers it. I feel his deep respect for Batman, and the answer he composes is thoughtful and relevant. "Klarion is… wary. I do not doubt that he has felt the tremors caused by Zatanna Zatara's indiscretion. However, what he has felt would have been an influx of Order magic -- the ritual used to merge us, and return us to this plane -- rather than anything that could be linked to my apparent 'death'."
Nabu shakes our head. "No, I do not believe Klarion is a concern for now. What may prove difficult would be the assembly of the Lords of Order, and convincing them to follow through with this arrangement. Or to let the Zatanna Zatara's chaotic deeds go unpunished." Nabu's words take on an acidic tang, biting off the final sentence with barely withheld irritance.
Giovanni moves to say something in the corner of my eye, but is silenced by a look from Batman.
"Is there anything we could do to make that go smoother?"
"No. Only I -- only we will deal with them in the future. When we are more ready."
Oh. Us. Dealing with. The other Lords of Order.
(...At least I'm not alone?)
"Very well." Batman's words have a grave finality about them; everything he says is so serious.
"I suppose on to the next thing." Giovanni's voice speaks up, and the rest of us turn to face him. He waves his hands, rotating about the wrist. "Batman, how do you wish us to breach this matter to the public? Or the League, for that matter?"
"I assume that Doctor Fate wishes to continue working with the League?" Batman asks.
"These five years have been productive. I see no reason not to."
Batman nods. "Good. This week is a busy week, and losing your cooperation would have been inconvenient."
"Ah- ah -- " Giovanni puts out a hand to interrupt. "Pardon me, but dear Nabu, how is your strength, currently?"
A pause. From my position deep within our consciousness, there's a wisp of… embarrassment?
"We are... not at our peak." Met with silence. He continues again, as if to justify himself, "Overall, I believe that our mystic potential to be higher than any of my previous hosts, due to our intimate connection. However, this host is untrained, and the limits to our power rests on the weakest link."
(He's… absolutely blaming me. Has reason to, but he had to put it that way…)
"Then that is my job." Giovanni has a pleased smile for reasons I don't really understand, as he claps his hands together. He turns back to Batman. "I will train Lee. I have already decided to take him in, and there is no one more suited for this task than me."
Batman is not happy. Outwardly, there's no indication to this — he is just as severe as before. However, there's something in his aura that's just… irked.
"How long will this take?"
"I want at least a couple months, to be sure."
"We can't have Fate out of commission for that long —"
"I am more than capable of continuing my current duties," Nabu cuts in harshly. "Chaos will not reign so long as I continue to exist." He says it like fact. It probably is.
Batman turns his head away, thinking. Giovanni and Nabu wait shamelessly, but I feel like a child in trouble, waiting for some painful verdict. (I feel like fidgeting, needing to move, some sort of outlet — )
There's a sudden clap as Nabu slams a hand on our right thigh, stopping it from shaking up and down. I startle at the abruptness, and see both Batman and Giovanni's eyes were drawn by the motion, noticed by them both.
Shit, sorry! Sorry, that was my bad habit —
**There is absolutely no reason for your anxiety. Stop this.**
(...sorry…)
"We will…" Batman's eyes are still on us, intense gaze suspicious. He seems to catch himself, jaw clenching with a slight twitch, before continuing. "We will keep your return under wraps for now," Batman says, turning to Giovanni. "So long as Doctor Fate remains active, our enemies will not know that there has been a change of hosts. This will also allow you privacy to train Lee."
Giovanni nods. "That seems to be the wisest decision. I do not think we need to keep this from the League, though."
"No, we don't." Batman stands, straightening in one smooth motion. Giovanni promptly follows suit. "There will be a meeting in the Watchtower later today. We will brief the others about the situation then."
Batman holds out a slim, black cuboid about the size of a credit card, which Giovanni accepts. "Identification and authorisation. Have Lee linked up to the zeta tube system, so that you can get to the Watchtower."
"STAR Labs has the equipment to do that?"
"Yes, but go to STAR Labs Metropolis." Batman tilts his head, as if thinking. "Stay out of Gotham for today."
"Busy week?"
"Busy week," Batman agrees. He then approaches Giovanni, almost completely ignoring me. "I need to ask you to do something."
As the conversation continues amongst the two of them, Nabu sees that he's not needed anymore, and retreats into isolation. I school my expression, blinking rapidly at the clear dismissal. I quietly stand and exit the room.
Okay, good job Lee. You contributed absolutely nothing good to that conversation. Wonderful.
A/N: Thank you to @FancyMolasses for helping me through this, as well as the late night talks about horse-drawn carriages and tea cups.
Unrelated A/N:
Wondering if i should bother making an art thread...
This has been in my drafts since 2018 and I'm just going to post it. No promises for a continuation.
2.1 New Player
1st December
09:25 EDT
We were apparently getting to Metropolis by Shadowcrest's magical teleportation.
Giovanni had insisted, insisted that there was no rush, and broke out his kitchenware to cook us an actual breakfast. "I haven't eaten in five years, let me enjoy this," he said, and I know he's teasing, but the guilt I feel lets whatever protest I have die out.
I'm still not hungry, but it's not that I can't eat, so we sat in his very luxurious, extensive kitchen, having breakfast with hot food and small talk.
(I'm. Not used to this. Aaaaa.)
(You'd think I'd be glad that the dire, actually dangerous bits seem to be over, but it's the awkwardness that scares me just as much —)
When that was done, as we were leaving, Giovanni throws me a jacket.
"T-thank you?"
He waves me off, adjusting his own coat. Precise fingers smooth down his collar and sleeves, as if savouring the feel of wool. He's wearing very casual clothes —jeans and t-shirt, a baseball cap that he pulls down low, somewhat covering his face.
"It will be cold outside." Giovanni's hands seem to be constantly in motion when he talks, all sorts of flicking and gestures that speak as much as his words do. He walks down the hallways of his mansion as if he'd never left, with ease and familiarity, as I try my best to follow behind.
"You've been very quiet."
"Well I -- there's not really much need for my input, is there?" God, I'm so in over my head.
"It's still something that involves you." He slows to a stop at our destination, and our eyes meet for a moment. I struggle under his gaze, still soft and regretful, and I ultimately look away first. "Don't be afraid to ask for anything. I will try to help however I can."
(He's so… compassionate. Is that what heroes are like?)
"Then… well… how does this work?" We're back in the hallway I was lead to this morning, with a large number of identical doors in a row. I can't see any outward labels indicating what the doors lead to, but Giovanni had stopped in front of the one I somehow know leads to Metropolis.
"Ah." His eyes both me and the door in turn. "We own several properties around the world. So long as we own the location, we are able to link them back to Shadowcrest."
There's a small pause as he considers his next words.
"I'm sorry about this morning. Did Shadowcrest ask you to let Batman in?" At my slightly unsure nodding, he sighs. "She probably didn't want to disturb me."
He raises his voice and turns to direct his next statement vaguely upwards, slapping on the doorframe for emphasis. It's annoyed, but at the same time, fond. "Didn't I tell you to notify me of any arrivals?"
The sensation that rushes through me next is singularly the most magical thing I have felt to this point. More so than even Nabu's magic, or Zatanna's. At least that had felt… human.
It's fascinating. A tickle that builds up at the back of my throat, before growing deeper down and reverberating through my core. A voice that has no sound, no words, just communicating with raw intention and desire, speaking from within. It rustles likes the pages of old books, creaks on unoiled hinges, the muted tones of the mansion speaking of old trust, old bonds; caring and unrepentant.
"We will be going now. Take care, okay?" Giovanni says as we walk out, and we receive a trill in reply. We step out into a very average looking flat, furnished and decorated, with nothing out of the ordinary. The door shuts behind us with a creak.
"You like her, yes?" I don't really need to see him to hear the smugness of his tone. I bring a hand up to cover my mouth as I realise I'm wearing a slightly goofy grin.
I think… this is actually the first I've been in an American city. First impressions: Metropolis is loud and crowded.
Almost overwhelmingly so — the coloursoundatmosphere seems so incredibly bright and pronounced, and the sheer number of entities just completely dumbfounds me. My awareness is just flooded with information and sensations which I can't quite place. There is something that is not quite a headache building up in my forehead, as if parts of my brain which have never been used before are being strained.
I try to match Giovanni's rather leisurely pace, hands in the pockets of my borrowed jacket. Still, more than once I find myself falling behind as I'm constantly lost in the sight of so much, until I notice that Giovanni has gotten ahead of me, and run to catch up.
I bump into somebody's shoulder, and turn around to mutter a quick "sorry!" as I fall in step beside Giovanni once again. All the people we've passed so far seem to be heading in the same general direction, collecting at a central point.
"There's a rally being held at Centennial Park, from what Batman has told me," Giovanni explains. "We might need to stop by there later."
I'm almost relieved when the automatic doors of STAR Lab's front entrance close behind us. The building is as professional and modern as you would expect it, white walls with large glass windows. And while the physical walls do little to to distance me from the cacophony of of noise that buzzed at my senses, the narrowed field of vision and the sterile smell of the air conditioning at least let me focus on the here and now.
"Hello!" Giovanni waves down the assistant manning the front desk. She sees us approach and seems to steel herself, a polite smile appearing on her face. "We are here on League business." Giovanni holds out the black card he was given, and a small hologram of the bat symbol projects above it. She immediately loses her smile, jaw dropping open.
Props to her, she recovers quickly. "Of course, sir! I'll go… get the chief…"
She stabs the buttons of the office phone with a slight frantic energy, prickly. I'm nonplussed. Really, all this while I've been standing behind Giovanni, trying not to look like a tourist, but this seeing this reaction is surprising, to say the least.
"Don't worry about it." Giovanni half-turns to look at me, as if sensing my discomfort. "We will be getting the help we need."
(...that wasn't really what I was going for…)
And we did. The Chief Scientific Officer, from the title on the name tag attached to her lab coat (her name was Jenet), pushes open the fire door and strides into the lobby, heels clacking. Things go impressively fast once Batman's sigil is recognised and validated. Giovanni does most (all) of the talking, and we're brought to a room with the Zeta-tube, preparing for launch.
It's a long room, with a lengthy track leading into the
There are details and paperwork to be filled in, and I linger quite pathetically in the background as Giovanni sorts it through. It makes sense that there needed to be protocol for keying people into the Zeta system, limiting it to an exclusive list….
But, I don't know, couldn't we just… teleport there?
**...Teleportation requires us to be familiar enough with the location to form an connection.**
And… you're not… (...okay.)
**I have no purpose in that stronghold, so far away from humanity and its deficits.**
(...That's not very nice -- )
"Giovanni Zatara?!" I feel the jolt of shock a second before the exclamation reaches my ears, and I turn to see the Chief catch her tablet computer from where it had slipped from her fingers. I'd pushed myself off from the wall I was leaning on, but Giovanni's countenance still seems relaxed; talking in hushed tones, a hand on his chin. The Chief blinks, professionalism rising back to take charge. "Right, this should be easy then, you're already in the system…"
"Okay, we're ready," says another man in a lab coat, fiddling with the interface beside the large machine. The rings of the zeta tube start to brighten, humming with energy.
"Good. Lee, let's go," Giovanni calls out to me, and I automatically fall into step behind him. My feet are starting to get the sensations of pins-and-needles from my stiff waiting, having forced myself to stop fidgeting after yesterday --
(And then things happen very quickly.)
-- and I fucking trip over my feet --
-- knock over one of the lab coats glasses askew --
-- Giovanni looks back in shock and he about faces away from the machine --
-- and then a sudden, absolute, shockwave in the very atmosphere, as if for a moment all the air in the world was removed and added back again just as fast, knocking the breath out of me.
The lights flicker off, switching to weak red emergency lights. The Zeta-tube seems to sigh as it powers down.
I'm apologising profusely to the other guy I knocked over, clumsily untangling ourselves. The Chief is barking orders, several technicians scrambling as they struggle with non-responsive machinery. Giovanni makes his way over to me just as I pull myself to my feet.
"What's happened?" the Chief demands, and her assistant is uneasy as her fingers fly over her tablet.
"We've lost all non-local signals. Internet, radio waves, even the power lines. It's like they've been cut."
"Zeta-beam radiation as well," one of the technician speaks up. The interface of the Zeta-tube seems to have dimmed into low-power mode, but he still manages to pull the data from it. "Why isn't picking up Z-radiation…"
The door slams open as the assistant looks back in at us, eyes wide in distress. "I think I know what's causing this," she says, turning back towards the hall and pointing out the window.
My heart is unusually calm, beat steady but loud in my ears. I share a look with Giovanni, swallowing at his expression -- stern and austere, as if a switch was flipped and he's down for business now. We approach the window and look out.
The sky is tinted and unnatural shade of electric blue, white lightning bolts of energy crackling ever so often across an invisible surface.
And above it, high in the sky, rested a massive, purple, alien spaceship.
I'm the only one sitting on these rows of chairs in the corridor, waiting. Scientists in lab coats run back and forth in my vision, making panicked phone calls and barking orders through walkie-talkies. I'm really tense, but Giovanni had said to wait. I watch him now, heads bent together with the Chief of the lab, trying to figure out what to do.
Should we.. should I be doing something?
Am I holding Nabu back?
**I see no reason to act at this very moment.** Nabu's voice rings in my head. He sounds almost bored.
People are… panicking. Scared.
**While harmless initially, fear is a precursor to chaos. Once the balance is tipped in the enemies' favour,** I see his eye holes flash gold in my mind's eye. **Then shall we act.**
(...not to prevent?)
I'm held back from arguing further when Giovanni begins marching purposefully towards me. I leap to my feet, antsy, and meet him in the middle of the corridor.
He's grim. "Lee, I need to talk to Nabu."
Well, he was already here at the forefront. Switching was becoming easier, especially when we asked for consent with quiet pulses in the mind. I step out of the way, and Nabu fills it seamlessly.
Giovanni continues when he sees gold light overtake my eyes. "We are unable to contact the rest of the League, but there are current members operating within the dome."
Giovanni puts a hand on my shoulder. It's strange, as the older man was taller than me, the body the current Lord of Order was inhabiting. Something just mildly amusing about that to cut through the bleak atmosphere.
"I do not think it is best that you suit up."
Nabu tilts my head questioningly, and I find my mental body mimicking the gesture. Giovanni continues, "Dr Fate should still lay low, at least until we examine the penetrability of this barrier. It wouldn't do to advertise that the good doctor is currently trapped."
Nabu nods slowly, taking it in. "Especially when our current ability to fight is in question."
(He's so -- passive aggressive!!! I can feel your intent, you know! He's not wrong but saying it like that isn't helping...)
"Jenet has given us a communicator with authorization to contact the other League members. They are convalescing at the North-Western quadrant of the park."
"We will be revealing our identity, then."
Giovanni's face relaxes ever so slightly, "Think of it as a reunion."
The periphery of our shared mindscape -- the place closest to consciousness -- is a quiet, empty expanse. It was more freeform, less solid. The mind palace was where objects could exist with more permanence -- where memory and experience is stored. It was located deeper within, requiring a bit of a 'fall' to get there, putting distance between us and awareness.
I remained at the forefront, watching as Nabu and Giovanni travelled on foot, Felt it was important to be alert, when things were this uncertain. Possibly dangerous.
I won't lie and say I'm not scared.
But the environment of this mindscape wasn't helping at all! It's white and bright and blinding, with a huge window on the horizon line that showed the events taking place in the real world. Sound played as if through a one-directional speaker, rather than realistic surround sound.
I press my imaginary hands together and bring them up to my chin. Hm. Can I do something about this.
Nabu's currently occupied, locked in the waking role. He's starting to think, getting more alert the more he and Giovanni talk.
"Is your connection to the Tower still present?"
"...Not directly. The barrier seems to be able to block our primary magical connection, doesn't seem to be nuanced enough to withhold it completely. Our link is more complex than that."
"That's still not very good."
Nabu wasn't worried yet, per say. But if he had a heartbeat, it would be starting to beat faster.
(he did. it was my heart. my heart was beating a little bit faster.)
This sort of… matter, was commonplace for a superhero. It was going to become a very common thing I would be a part of. And I'm going to drive myself insane if I had to watch it like this every single time something happened.
I needed to change this environment. Even changing it a tiny bit would help.
I rise up, just a little, in consciousness. I was being very very careful not to push or jostle Nabu's role, squeezing myself very small and around him in order to reach full awareness. Of course, he still notices.
**Do not distract me like this if I am occupied with a dire situation.**
I'm pleasantly surprised it wasn't a full on denial! It's okay for now --?
**I can feel your intent. Work quickly.**
That was an invitation if I've ever seen one.
Things feel malleable, like a blob. Even my own being was kind of blobby, not really seeing, not really moving -- more feeling and manipulating and being / not being. I reached up and could feel sensations my body was processing -- sight, sound, taste, smell, and more. Carefully, I pull them down and around Nabu, having a little wire that I could bring down to the mindscape with me and process the outside world.
I leave Nabu's space, giving him room to act freely. His essence shies away from me when I'm moving about -- it feels careful and deliberate, but at the same time, kind of.. reluctant.
He won't trip over the wires, I don't think. They're thin and out of the way, just enough to have a connection, but not send any interference upwards.
Right. I have my sources. What can I do with this?
I take inspiration from fictional stories about mindscapes. They make it seem to easy -- just think, and it'll appear; just think and it'll appear --
A surround sound system of simple black speakers pop into existence in a circle around me. They fall for a few inches before settling with noisy 'clacks' on a blank white floor. From them, I can hear more clearly -- Giovanni breathing hard on my left, the call of a bird to my right, the rustling of strangers behind me.
What else, what else? A computer?
A table pops into existence, with a large LCD monitor. Though it's not plugged into anything, it's turned on. It was currently showing what looked to be a radar, like on those old ships. It pulses with multicoloured dots. Non-visual sensations, given visual form?
Another monitor, with a crude outline of the human body. Descriptions in green.
A third one, with textual data flashing on screen and scrolling upwards faster than I could read.
This was all very clinical, very bare bones. I worked with computers a lot -- doesn't mean I'm comfortable with them, but it was something I was overjoyed to have for now. An improvement to the disconnect I was feeling, by watching through that giant window and taking in nothing else.
**Enough. We are approaching.** I hear Nabu within the mindscape. I turn my attention back to the window on the horizon. Hope things will be okay.
The suits definitely looked much cooler in real life.
Batgirl and Black Lightning stand before us, clad in their costumes and masks. Memories of Nabu's previous interactions with them start to surface. Without thinking, I skim the edge of a passing memory to gain an impression.
Loyal, she stands in his shadow, insignificant, blank faced.Thinks herself capable, thinks herself a threat.
A fighter, passion, powerless, still fighting. Heroism for the weak. I saved him. He owes me.
**Do not do that.**
(Sorry!)
"You're the contingent from STAR labs?" Batgirl begins, looking at me. Her hand hovers over her ear, as if waiting for a different kind of communication.
"It's a complicated matter," Giovanni starts to say beside me. Both heroes snap to look at him as he removes his hat. "We were hoping to keep our presence low for now, but it seems our help is needed."
Giovanni grins cheerfully into the stunned silence.
Batgirl recovers first and her jaw clicks shut. "Za-- Zatara. You're back in the field?"
Giovanni grimaces, making a 'so-so' motion with his hand. "Perhaps not this time. I am no longer the host of Doctor Fate."
"But this is him?" Black Lightning takes a step towards me, and Nabu stares up at him impassively. Giovanni pats my back.
"This is Nabu, the embodiment within the helmet of Fate."
"And if we are ready," Nabu says, and I feel a jolt of shock from the other two. "I plan to examine the barrier, and remove it." There's a miniscule pause as the other heroes reassess me.
"By all means, go right ahead," Black Lightning says, spreading his arms wide.
Nabu doesn't spare a look back. I can feel Giovanni tense beside me, but the wearer of my body ignores it, striding purposefully towards the edge of the dome. It looks more solid up close, the tiny hexagons of hard light shards making up a much bigger piece that currently trapped all of Metropolis.
Nabu reaches out a hand, palm facing the barrier but not quite touching it. Sparks of white lightning seem to sense the potential threat, and begin to pool on part of the dome closest to my outstretched hand. Nabu pulls power forth, and channels it outward.
A sign of an ankh, about the length of my forearm, appears on the surface of the dome. It starts out dim, but starts to glow with brightness and intensity as Nabu pushes, tendrils of gold light scaling the barrier and trying to find purchase on something so slippery and smooth.
I'm stuck watching, waiting. I don't have anything to contribute. Nabu's got this under control.
One of the monitors in front of me starts beeping hysterically. I turn to look at it and the text starts scrolling faster and faster, growing more alarmed -- the font grows bigger, text in red, and number growing higher and higher --
Nabu, I don't think this is a good idea --
**Do not interfere.**
The ground starts to shake, and the monitor topples over with the force. It's beeping, louder, panicking.
Nabu --
There's a whistling sound that burns my ears, that grows infinitesimally quiet way too fast. Then a hiss and a loud BANG!
I'm thrown back into my own body just in time for Giovanni to catch me, five metres away from the edge of the barrier. He gives a pained oof, toppling onto his butt as I land straight on him instead of the ground.
My head spins terribly with the sudden switch. I'm breathing hard.
"That wasn't a good idea," I gasp. "That really wasn't a good idea."
![Fate Doctor [Young Justice SI]](/data/threadmark-index-icons/l/30/30468.jpg?1619938644){kind=icon}
