Clark Kent's life had never been so hectic.
He expected insanity after his reveal. What he didn't expect was the conversation.
"Superman, as he declared himself to be," a news commentator opined, "certainly made a dramatic appearance. We can't deny that leading the charge against the Endbringers was the right way for a parahuman to out himself." He paused for effect, shifting his posture subtly. "What we can deny, however, is that this 'Superman' should be let off the hook just because he helped destroy such a great threat." The big reveal played in the corner of the screen. "So, we know he's an alien. An extraterrestrial. What more don't we know?"
"Who's that moron?" Greg asked, rolling his eyes.
"He's some asshole named Gordon Godfrey," Taylor replied.
"We knew
someone was going to be the first to belittle us on the news," Chloe stated, "he just happened to be that guy."
"Yeah?" Oliver chimed in. "Well, he's certainly got the people in a tizzy."
"All we can do is keep helping people," Clark said. "And keep fighting against Darkseid's influence."
"We got more on that front," Bart stated, zooming in. "Just rescued a bunch of 'sacrifices' from a Darkseid cult in northern Canada."
Chloe pulled up a series of documents on a tablet and held it up. "We've got more information about Darkseid and the New Gods," she explained.
Clark read. "So," he pointed out, "he's been to Earth before? What's kept him from taking over?"
"According to this," she explained, pulling up another source, "he's the inspiration for such figures as Lucifer from the bible and the Hindu goddess Kali. Each time, there's been enough collective good to allow some heroic figure to rise up and banish him."
"If he's been banished," Greg asked, "how's he come back?"
"I'd imagine," Taylor speculated, "it has something to do with Scion and the Cycle and all that."
"That would make sense," Oliver said, entering. "After all, if he's been banished from our dimension, what better way to come in than to hitch a ride with the creature whose whole deal is moving between dimensions?"
"Okay, great," Bart pointed out, "but how do we fight this thing?" He turned to Chloe. "He feeds on corruption, right?"
Chloe gave an ancient Egyptian relief a once-over. "Yeah," she affirmed. "Apparently, his arrival on Earth always corresponds to periods of time where people were losing hope, bad things were going on, people being wicked and the like were happening more often."
"Which explains why he's back
now," Taylor acknowledged. "There's certainly a lot of that going on right now."
"I hate this," Greg commented. "I like having enemies I can just punch in the face. All this cosmic mumbo-jumbo and this 'lurking-in-the-shadows' bullshit is too much."
"The thing is," Clark commented, "this is what we have to focus on. We have to focus on keeping our spirits up, and we have to be an example to give the people something to believe in. We're literally fighting for our souls here."
"Until we get everything straightened out," Oliver said, "we probably should devote our full attention to this."
There was a chorus of nods.
Greg took off in full Delta costume. Whoever or whatever this 'Darkseid' actually was, it left its mark like a dog crapping on a carpet. There had always been crazies out there stirring up crap with their nonsense doom cults and the preppers whose paranoia got people killed, but now there were patterns never seen before. More than a few times he came across parahumans committing crimes and their eyes had turned black.
Delta smashed through the reinforced door of a barn. Several muscled capes threw down, launching themselves at him. He delivered a solid palm strike to the gut of one, ducking beneath a right arm lariat and coming up with the uppercut that launched the man upward. He rolled backwards, coming up behind three enemies, planting straight punches into their backs. One came up on his left and swung right. He ducked beneath and brought his left leg up for a high kick, throwing the man sideways to crash into and through the wall.
A pair of huge hands grabbed his arms, and spiked him into the ground. He smashed head-first, throwing up a cloud of wood splinters. The enemy stomped on his back, quaking the entire building.
"Sonofabitch!" the muscled cape swore.
Delta rolled over and drove an upward kick right into the man's groin. A shout of pain preceded the cape soaring upward to smash a hole in the roof. As the man fell free, Greg got to his feet and caught him square in the chest with a straight punch.
A few strikes later and all the brutes were tied up. After securing them and handing them over to the P.R.T., he used his x-ray vision and saw the group of intended victims.
"You're safe now!" he announced, pulling the metal piping their handcuffs were welded to free. He then broke the cuffs themselves and set them loose. "There's P.R.T. out there waiting to help you!"
They all hugged him at once. "Oh thank God!" someone shouted. "Thank you!"
Delta pulled away and addressed them. "What did they want from you?" he asked.
"They were looking for something called 'The Abomination,' or something," one man said. "They apparently thought one of us was connected to it."
"That sounds…horrible…" Delta said. "Anyway, glad I could help!" He took off. Greg immediately signaled the base.
"So," Chloe said, "Darkseid's looking for 'The Abomination,' then?"
"That's what they said," Greg confirmed.
"Clark?" Chloe asked.
"I hear you," Clark said. "It honestly can only mean one thing."
A chill went through Greg's heart. "Doomsday," he said, nervous, as if speaking the name would summon the monster. "As if this situation wasn't bad enough already."
"Murphy's Law," Taylor chimed in over the channel.
"How's things for you?" Greg asked.
"Oh, not much," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "just busted up a fighting ring. Apparently, it was being used as a way of figuring out the best female fighters to send to someone named Granny Goodness."
"Oh god, that name is creepy," Greg commented.
"That
definitely sounds like Darkseid," Chloe replied, making notes. "Were you able to figure anything else out?"
"No," Taylor said. "Unfortunately, they were using memory alteration. I was lucky to even get that little tidbit."
"Anything's better than nothing," Chloe replied.
"What's my next target?" Greg asked.
"As Darkseid's influence gets closer," she explained, "more and more people will be affected. Your next target is a real estate company we believe is buying up land to search for artifacts. They've got a master list somewhere, it'll be some kind of tablet."
She read him the info. "Got it," he said. Without a word, he took off in the other direction. A moment of flying later, and he saw the office amongst the buildings. From a secure position on a nearby rooftop, he saw through the office to the interior. Inside a secret section of a wall, inside a fireproof safe, was a block of ebony stone that had glyphs carved into it. He recognized the symbols as ancient Kryptonian, even if he couldn't read them.
"Hey."
Greg spun around just in time to take a foot to the face.
The parahuman looked like your stereotypical brute. Approximately seven feet tall, wide as a car, arms wide as Greg's head, and a really dumb look on his face. Going into full Delta mode, he smashed the point of his elbow into the man's chest. When he doubled over, Delta planted the other elbow on the man's right temple. He crashed into the concrete edge of the roof. "You the security?" he asked the man.
The man pulled himself up, concrete debris clattering to the ground. He spat out a tooth. "Ya might stop us," the man crowed, "but ya won't stop what's coming." A sick grin painted itself on his face.
A hand grabbed the back of Delta's helmet and smashed him into the roof, causing the building to rattle. Greg looked back for a moment and planted an upward kick into the second man's gut, launching him off the building. He took to the air and clotheslined the man, launching him into the pavement. The sidewalk erupted in a shower of concrete chunks as the second attacker landed and gasped, the wind knocked out of him.
"Look out," Chloe said, "I'm getting word Shane and Larry Fulhampton, The Bone Eater Brothers, as they're calling themselves, are in the area."
"Nice timing," Greg sarcastically said.
He dodged to the left and caught the first assailant coming down for a sneak attack, and threw him to the pavement.
"Yer a dead man!" The Bone Eater who had hair said.
Delta shook his head. "No," Greg replied. "You might serve some dark higher power, but right now, you're going to jail."
"Fuck you!"
They charged him.
He sighed as he allowed them to approach. The taller and more muscular of the two swung left. Delta ducked beneath it and kicked at the man's legs, throwing him forward. A blow to the upper back smashed him into the ground. The man's brother swung right and got a knee to the lower back, throwing him into a wall. He recovered just in time to get a fist to the temple. His brother caught a boot to the back of his head.
"Delta!" a P.R.T. officer said, noticing the hero dragging two enormous villains by their necks as he walked towards the van.
"Looking for these guys?" Greg asked.
They pulled two sets of enormous metallic shackles from the vehicle as well as two nasty looking collars, and got the villains contained. "Pair of cannibal assholes," an agent replied. "Been tearing up the area for three years now. They been really active lately. Something going on?"
"I'm not sure," Greg lied, "but if I find out, I'll be sure to tell you." He took off.
Greg looked at the security regarding the tablet in the safe. The likelihood he would be able to steal it without setting off any of the five or so alarms around it seemed virtually nil, even for him. Instead, he sped through a local dollar store and swiped a notepad and a pen. Moving from building roof to building roof, he scanned the tablet from multiple angles, and drew what he saw.
A minute later, Chloe had the paper scanned and the group stared at it.
"Great job," she complimented. "You did the best you could."
"The fight distracted me," he explained. "I didn't want to set off any alarms."
"They might already know," Clark commented, "but at least we aren't blindsided."
A few moments later, a gust of wind signaled the arrival of The Flash. "So," Bart said, "anyone else get the sense that everything's hit the fan at once?"
"Yeah," Clark agreed. "Darkseid's influence is picking up."
"Any word from Cauldron?" Greg asked.
Chloe shook her head. "The last thing they told us," she explained, "was that they were clamping down on a bunch of 'failed experiments' that were getting out of hand."
"That's…not terrifying at all," Bart commented.
"Oh!" Greg said, turning to Clark. "How's your cousin?"
"She's been mostly coming to terms with everything," he said. "She's been torn this way and that, and a bunch of crap's been dropped on her all at once."
Kara sat in her room. In the days since the Fortress had removed the last of her Yangban programming, she'd studied every piece of information Kal had given her. Her emotions raged like a ship tossed about in a typhoon, and her furious studying had been a desperate attempt to maintain sanity. The first thing she remembered was being pulled from her pod and being exposed to some horrific glowing green rock—Kryptonite, though she didn't know it at the time. After that, she was tied down and surgery opened part of her skull. Something got put in and the next thing she knew, it was as if she saw her body from far away. It seemed like a second set of thoughts overrode her own.
The man identified himself as General Ying Xi.
"You are hereby identified as Fifty-One," he commanded her. Somehow, she found his words clear in her mind, even though she couldn't even identify the language.
The identity wrote itself on the hard drive of herself. "I am Fifty-One," she found herself saying back, in a perfect repetition of his language.
"You give power to the rest of your comrades," he instructed, guiding her along a pathway, "and you get power from them in return."
As she saw the lines of suited men and women, practicing martial arts in perfect formation, she nodded. "I understand." Before she knew it, she strolled into a room, changed into her uniform, and stood underneath the light. She felt full. The warm solar lights fed her cells with power. It felt as though her cup of power overflowed, onto a stack of cups below to catch the runoff. She felt the attachment to her allies. She felt her power flow through them. "I give power, and I gain power in return."
"Fifty-One!" A younger, yet still commanding voice cried. "Enter formation!"
"Acknowledged!" she cried.
She stood in formation, a perfect line with her comrades. The hours passed by in a rapid haze, as she leapt, ducked, struck out with fists and feet, and moved like a trained gymnast. When one of her allies was set against her to fight, she blocked the man or woman's fists or feet with just the correct blow at the correct time. Her superiors acknowledged her rapid achievements.
"That's enough, Fifty-One!" the male commander of the group announced. "You've proven your worth. There is no need to show off."
She bowed. "Acknowledged," she replied. "What is my next order?"
"You will be sent out on an assignment," he explained. "Follow me, and you'll get your orders from my superior."
She nodded. "Understood."
They started walking. "Forty-five through forty-nine!" the commander yelled. "Follow!"
The group gave a collective, "Acknowledged," and followed.
After a long hallway and a series of security checkpoints, they entered a large interrogation room and a general in dress uniform sat with several suited politicians and members of the Chinese aristocracy around a large oak table.
"General Xing," the commander said, bowing respectfully. "I have Fifty-One here," he gestured to her, "as well as the strike team that will be leading her into combat." The others bowed.
"Excellent," General Xing said, sliding a folder across the table. "You say she is the fastest learner we've ever had?"
"Yes," the commander stated. "Two days ago, she received her entrance procedure. Yesterday afternoon she began her physical and mental training. This evening she has graduated what is normally a three-week program."
"Perhaps she truly is a superior organism," one bureaucrat commented.
"Regardless," the General said, "this mission will require a tremendous amount of cunning, and a great deal of swiftness. Can you assure me success?"
"I can," the commander affirmed. "The remarkable thing is that Fifty-One possesses a collection of powers, not just one, and sharing her powers equally among her allies doesn't leave her as weak as it should."
One politician frowned. "Isn't that a problem?" he asked.
The commander shook his head. "No, sir," he stated. "You see, the crown in her feeds off her own power to enhance our control over her. It's a revolutionary design."
"This will determine if your words are true," the General commented. "You will send her on this mission and if it goes without problems, your position within the organization will improve dramatically."
The commander smiled. "Thank you, sir."
"But!" the General interjected. "If she fails, it will be
your neck on the chopping block."
"Understood, sir!" The commander stated, taking a sharp breath and saluting. "You will not be disappointed, sir!"
After taking the folder, he quickly perused the summary page, and handed the folder to Fifty-One. "You will embark on this mission," he ordered. "Read this quickly and hand it to your squad mates to read."
"Acknowledged," Fifty-One sharply stated. She took it, flipped from page to page, reading entire pages with a single glance, and handed the folder off to her mates.
After about fifteen minutes, the group gathered in the exit area. Three, picked to lead the mission, stood in front of the group. "Does each person here have training in using Fifty-One's powers?" he asked. The group nodded. "Our target is the Spirit Dragon Group! We must not fail!"
"Understood!" each one yelled.
The group took off, using her flight. She felt their bodies draw upon her power. The strangeness of the sensation hit her each time. She could sense her power trailing out of her body, trickling out of each cell, and travelling via an invisible pathway to seep into their cells, strengthening them, making human tissue as strong as the strongest steels, giving muscles the power to rend the Earth itself as though stone were talc. Their eyes and ears could pick out the quietest sounds and the faintest sights. Yet, even as she became aware of this, she also felt how her well ran much deeper than theirs. It gave her an unease as she held back on her flight to keep up with them.
Ten layers of reinforced titanium steel and concrete shattered like glass against the onslaught of the heroes of the C.U.I.. The Spirit Dragons, a group of disloyal parahumans, dedicated to the downfall of the Party and the corruption of the fine citizens, had assassinated a number of prominent targets within the Chinese government. With their powers, they'd evaded capture on every occasion. Fifty-One privately hoped she could be the deciding factor that turned the tide.
The operatives known as Black Dragon and Grey Dragon had kept watch and sprang into action immediately. The tall woman in the gray bodysuit triggered a dead man's switch in her hand exactly one second before a blast of heat vision boiled the water in her skull, exploding it. "Damn it," Forty-Five swore in Mandarin.
Fifty-One crashed into Black Dragon, the force of her outstretched hands crushing his sternum into his ribcage. She changed direction and flew towards the first inner security door as his corpse splattered against a wall. Klaxons sounded throughout the building. Her front kick split the giant blast door in half like rotted timber. Six M61 Vulcan guns sprayed twenty-millimeter shells at the invaders. She stood firm, absorbing the first burst of rounds, then turned her head, releasing a stream of heat vision that melted the rotary guns to slag. Like ants streaming out of a nest, enemies poured out of hidden compartments and started firing at them.
Forty-Six and Forty-Seven flew through a pack of fireballs and ice balls, and swung at their enemies. Fifty-One quietly swore as she headed towards a separate group of enemies; her allies were not using their speed at the level they should. Still, she said nothing, as it was not her place to criticize her teammates. Violet Dragon appeared at the last minute, latched a shoulder on his comrades, and teleported them away. Forty-Six and Forty-Seven found their fists meet only air.
Forty-Nine planted a fist through Green Dragon's chest, as the man attempted to disappear in a flash of light. Fifty-One crashed through a barracks door, and melted several skulls, not bothering to stop to keep track. Her teammates tended to revel in their actions. She felt focused. Focusing on the mission was the correct way to operate.
"You won't destroy what we stand for," Iron Dragon said, emerging from one hallway.
She paused, taking up a defensive stance. The eight-foot-tall brute had more than just strength and durability, but deceptive speed. This would require her to put in more effort. The man took up a Kung Fu stance, jaunting forward and throwing a timed kick. She ducked beneath it and tapped his leg, throwing off his balance. He recovered with remarkable swiftness and brought a diagonal strike down on her head. A flat right palm blocked the forearm. Transitioning that into a grab, she spun the limb, breaking the shoulder. He let out a cry in pain but managed to pull away before she could further damage him.
He pulled back and threw another kick which she jumped back to avoid. She then pushed aside a punch. Another kick came from the opposing direction. She brought up the opposing knee and blocked it. Instead of recovering his leg, he threw out a punch with all his strength. His fist shattered against her open palm.
His ear-piercing scream echoed down the halls. She drove a fist into his sternum, and blood coated the front of his mask.
"Your imperial…masters…" he uttered, falling to his knees, "will…not…"
A crunch and a tear sounded loudly as her elbow strike separated his head from his torso.
"Kara?"
Kara snapped out of it when Clark's calm voice floated into her ears. She wiped her eyes. "Yeah, just gimme a minute," she said.
He sat on the bed beside her. "Just here to let you know, I'm here for you," he reminded.
She cleared her throat. "I know," she replied. "It's just that…" She closed her eyes and waited so her voice wouldn't crack. "I'm not sure I can get over what happened." She stared into his eyes. "I did those things for them!"
He took her hand. "I can't imagine what you've been through." He took a breath and made sure his words weren't hasty or dismissive. "All I can say is that they made you do it."
"Yeah, I know," she countered, "but it doesn't feel that way. I still remember all the sounds, the smells, the sights, it's…it's all so clear and…" She broke down and cried into his shoulder. He held her tight.
"Just take your time," he said.
Taylor, garbed in her Clash outfit, had been running damage control all morning.
In the absence of the Endbringers, it seemed that Darkseid's influence had kicked into overdrive. Cults had crawled out of the woodwork all over the place and the crime spree had gone through the roof. Greg and Clark both ran themselves ragged for the past several hours, but this explosion of crime required all their efforts. Sixty major cities across the globe turned into an absolute shitshow and even with superspeed, she almost couldn't move fast enough.
Depositing an armful of criminal parahumans into P.R.T. custody outside of Austin, Texas, she landed, and snatched a bottle of water from a Protectorate officer's vest.
"Clash!" a team leader in full riot gear cried out at her arrival. "Thank God you're here!"
She lifted part of her helmet and drank. "Well," she uttered, "it's been a hell of a day."
"You've cut our workload down by ninety-five percent," one officer said, approaching. "Thanks."
She popped her helmet back down. "I've still got work to do."
She took off and a few moments later, she arrived in Florida.
Miami was being torn apart by a three-way parahuman gang war. She flew down and started trading blows. Seventeen people in containment foam later, and the fight was over.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"There's been an explosion at a nightclub six blocks over," a P.R.T. officer shouted.
She turned and saw the smoke. "Got it," she said.
The building had partially collapsed. Eighteen people lay dead. Only four were killed by debris. That caught her attention. As her x-ray vision passed over the building, she saw a man get bent literally in half then tossed like a ragdoll through a concrete wall. A man of above-average build and ripped clothing covered in several different people's blood stood in the middle of a tangle of bodies.
"Son of a bitch," she uttered, flying down.
His eyes flit between an ominous red glow and normal color. When she flew in, though, his head moved impossibly fast, focusing on her. She didn't hesitate.
The building rattled when she drove her fist into his face. He flew backward and out of the building. In a flash, she gathered the survivors and flew them to safety. She turned and headed back for the man.
"Where are you going?" she uttered, touching down six meters apart from him.
The red glow reemerged. "GO!" he screamed, his voice deepening.
"What are you on about…"
"GET AWAY!"
She saw his skin rupture in several places. Shards of bone began to protrude.
Air seemed to seep out of her lungs as her blood ran cold. Reality hit her like a truck and she leapt into the air. "HE'S HERE!" she screamed into her earpiece.
"Who's here!" Chloe shouted. Her heart skipped a beat, though, as she anticipated the answer.
"IT'S DOOMS…!"
Her voice cut off as a giant gray fist smashed into her, shattering her helmet and launching her into a building. Thousands of tons of steel and glass collapsed onto her as the stony monster landed in the rubble.
"Kryptonian…" The monster's gravel voice boomed.
"Oh my god," Chloe uttered, staring at the screen. "It's Doomsday…"
"I can't let Taylor die," Clark announced.
"Wait, this is exactly what…!"
"Is there anything we can do?" Oliver asked.
Chloe threw up her arms in frustration. "Let's get in touch with Cauldron," she admitted. "Maybe if we're lucky, there's something they can do."
Taylor came to as tons of steel and glass flew off her. She pulled herself to a standing position. A sharp pain came over her and she let out a yell. Nervously, her eyes opened. "G…Greg?" she uneasily said.
"Oh my god," he uttered. He flew away and returned with what looked like a spotlight. "Here!"
The P.R.T. generator and the large light shone on her, and she immediately felt relief wash over her. Broken bones mended and her flesh began to knit together. As pain gave way to clarity, her eyes snapped open. "Oh fuck!" she shouted. "We can't win against this thing! We've got to clear everyone out!"
Greg's helmet had been shattered, and he stared into her eyes. "You think I'm not scared?" he demanded. His hands quivered. "We're the only ones who can stop this thing?"
Taylor noticed his unease. "I…" She grit her teeth and swore. "I guess." A thought came to her. "What about the man?"
Greg blinked. "What man?"
Taylor flew over and yanked a cell phone out of an agent's hand. She dialed. A moment later, a screen came over the cell phone and Chloe was on the line. "Hey!" Taylor shouted. "You got the last thing my helmet saw before it died. Can you identify the man who turned into Doomsday?"
Chloe stared at the screen for a moment. "Way ahead of you," she cried. "It's a man named Davis Bloome. Why? Do you think it'll matter?"
Taylor took a breath. "He seemed to be fighting it," she said. "I'm not optimistic, but maybe it'll buy us something."
"Get on that, then," Chloe commented.
The three regrouped. Emily Piggot in full Eradicator garb descended. "I'm not liking our odds," Taylor said.
Clark nodded. "Everyone's looking for Doomsday," he commented. "We got here first." He turned to the others. "Our only hope is to get to Davis Bloome and see if he can overcome Doomsday."
Greg scoffed. "And then what?"
Clark wiped dirt and blood off his face. "We have to survive
now to get to
then what."
