Project: Gamer Ver. 2 (Young Justice/Gamer/Multicross OC)
- Thread starter Mister Ficser
- Start date
Wonder what Aeschylus done with the scroll. Or what could have happened, or if Alchemist would return to any of the realities he had visited?
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- Whadjuk Noongar boodja
Nice. Elegant, even. Certainly a tasteful improvement on the over the top sword he was shown with in Kindgom Come.
Chapter 278
Project: Gamer Ver. 2 Alpha Build 2.7.8
Disclaimer Me Do: I own nothing you recognize. And most of what you don't recognize, I still don't own.
_________________________________________________________________________
28/11/2010
Guardian Ganthet was not used to feeling off-center.
And he was especially unused to feeling so without an immediate crisis occurring that he and the other Guardians had missed.
Well, there were certainly a number of crises that he'd been made aware of but they were all in the nebulous and ever-changing future.
Something even the prophet before him had admitted as making his knowledge of the future unreliable.
"Is there anything else," the Guardian asked, his heart pumping and his head pounding with every word, "that I should be made aware of?"
"...Nothing specific to this timeline that I can think of," the wizard admitted after a second of thought. "The Prophecy of Blackest Night refers to the Black Light Entity. Atrocitus is making more Red Lanterns, including a few on Earth. Parallax actually serves a purpose, despite being impossible to really direct or control... Nothing you or the others are unaware of, really."
Ganthet closed his eyes and quietly sighed.
No, none of what he'd been told was new. Not exactly. Those sentences did carry a bit more nuance but it wasn't anything he could really do much about.
Even the Red Lanterns on Earth, whilst an unpleasant surprise, wasn't necessarily critical. They were often the victims of their rings, not the other way around.
"Perhaps we could discuss something less... distressing," Ganthet suggested. The Maltusian sighed and turned his head to look out one of the windows, aimed towards the planet far below. "You can seemingly create Willpower out of other materials, yes? May I request a demonstration?"
"Yeah, not a problem," the man answered as he began to poke his finger at seemingly thin air. After several moments, he reached his arm into a hole in space and extracted a red crystal that was... Ganthet's ring supplied the measurements to him, converted into the most common units used on Earth. Alchemist had extracted a red crystal, brimming with magic that measured roughly thirty centimeters in length.
Pressing one finger against the side of it, the crystal slowly began to change from magical red to the comforting green of Will.
And Ganthet made note of the fact that Alchemist was gritting his teeth and quietly hissing in distress as the shade and hue of the crystal changed. Once it was complete, the man picked up the solid crystal of manifested Will and examined it with a critical eye.
"Here," the mage said as he handed the artifact over. "You'd be a better expert on how useful that is. But it should be a small and technically unlimited source of Willpower."
Ganthet examined the green crystal, the verdant glow that came from deep within. He could feel the noticeable trickle of power coming from it, interacting with the aura of his own ring.
-- Charging... -- the little device whispered into his ear, confirming what he'd been told.
"And you can make as many of these as you desire?" Ganthet had to ask. That kind of power... It was clearly not so refined as the Forge but, what it lacked in complexity, it certainly had other benefits of critical note.
"Those, no. I'd only come across a handful of these very fascinating crystals of supposedly endless magical power. They're actually supposed to be used in the magical manufacturing of goods, believe it or not."
Ganthet looked down to the crystal in his hand and raised one rather bushy eyebrow in consideration. If his own familiarity with magic was anything to go by, a surprisingly thorough understanding given his inclusion during the purge of the Empire of Tears, then the crystal Alchemist had initially used had been attuned to the element of fire.
And now, it was attuned to the concept of Will.
"What all are you intending to do with ready access to Willpower?" Ganthet asked as he stowed the crystal away.
"Honestly?" the human asked before he drank a mouthful of water. "Not very much. The weapon made for Alan Scott is about the limit of my intentions. Making something for myself would be a waste of time and effort, given that it responds best to an individual of strong willpower. As such, that sword was a proof of concept for the possibility of using esoteric materials."
Ganthet looked down at his empty mug and considered the man's words.
The other Guardians would certainly consider that to be a good thing. And, given what his ring had picked up as he'd scanned the admittedly primitive weapon, Alchemist did not seem capable of actually replicating a power ring.
Still, an uncontrolled source of Will would most certainly be considered a threat to the others.
Alan Scott was proof enough that humans could use their raw willpower to imitate the tools of the Oans, after all.
"Truth be told, I really just enjoy making things," Alchemist continued, unaware that Ganthet was reviewing the data he'd acquired on the man. Especially the scan he'd taken which he was comparing against prior scans performed by the local Lanterns. "And Will was a relatively simple material to come across. Rage could prove interesting but I can't get the local Lantern to let me close enough to examine his ring."
"...You know the location of the Red Lantern of Earth?" Ganthet asked, pulling his eyes away from the miss-matched and clearly wrong data. "And you have been attempting to approach him?"
"Well, he's a cat. A creature from a species that was reduced through the Dreaming into a small and relatively harmless animal that functionally domesticated itself so that it could have ready access to food drawn by human agriculture. Dex-Star, the Red Lantern, is honestly a rather tragic figure," Alchemist explained before taking another small sip of water. "The human he pair-bonded with was murdered and then the local authorities kicked him out on to the streets. A violation of policy, of course. And then he was captured by a group of local youths who thought it would be good fun to tie him into a sack and toss him off of a bridge and into the river below."
Ganthet pursed his lips, ignoring the gasp from the eavesdroppers by the doorway.
"He was, rather understandably, a bit upset." Ganthet nearly snorted at Alchemist's rather intentional understatement. "I've been trying to feed him from time to time to see if I can't get him to approach me. As I understand it, removing the ring should be lethal but I think I might be able to get around that. Hopefully."
"Magic, I assume?" Ganthet asked before he hovered up and headed back over to the coffee maker.
"I explicitly market my healing magic, so I am rather confident in it," Alchemist admitted as he stood up and followed the Guardian. "If I can't remove the ring myself, I can at least bring Dexter peace. The ring will remove itself if the host stops being angry enough to sustain its functions."
"And what do you intend to do with Rage, should you succeed at acquiring the ring?" Ganthet asked as he began the process of imitating what the mage had done to make the coffee machine operate.
"Probably make a small crystal of it, the same as I made for you of Will."
Ganthet paused in his efforts to turn and look at the man, one eyebrow raised in curiosity as he made a 'go on' motion.
"Rage is just as much a part of the greater whole of reality as Will or Greed. And propping up the avatars is critical if you don't want us to have another Big Crunch, Ganthet. Abuse of the emotional spectrum caused the last one."
If the Guardian wasn't so experienced in controlling himself, he would've dropped the pitcher of water he was manipulating.
That...
That was not information that anyone should have!
"Hmm, you know? I do believe I forgot a small detail, earlier," Alchemist said as he moved around Ganthet and began to prepare the machine for him. "The New Gods of Freedom, Propaganda, Child Abuse and a member of the Female Fury Battalion all reside on Earth at the moment."
"...That is not a small detail," Ganthet argued, swallowing thickly as the machine began to hiss.
"Compared to the Lords of Order and Chaos plotting in the background, they really are," Alchemist disagreed.
Ganthet... couldn't really argue that point.
Although he truly, truly wished that he could.
-----
Deathstroke the Terminator needed a break from the long-term assignment he'd unknowingly agreed to with Lex Luthor.
How was he supposed to have known starting out that Red Herring was a conjuror of some sort? Did that imply that L, Leopold Stotch, was also a mage of some flavor?
What was the connection? How were the two related? Which one was responsible for tormenting him with a handful of stuffed animals?!
Slade breathed, calming his frayed nerves.
That... had been nearly a month in the past. His every effort to track down Red Herring had resulted in dead ends and more spiders.
More... spiders...
Slade shuddered, just thinking about it.
He needed a distraction. And contract requests were piling up. More than a few had been withdrawn, sent to individuals or organizations with more time to follow up on them.
Like Deadshot.
But there had been one that was still open. A request to meet in person to discuss details.
And the client had already approved of Slade's 'consultation' fee.
Someone wanted the job done properly and they were willing to pay to have it done.
Slade could appreciate that.
And that mutual appreciation saw Deathstroke the Terminator sitting across from an elderly black man in an upscale Italian restaurant in Gotham. Owned by Falcone, of course.
Slade wore a pressed, charcoal suit with a simple red tie. The man sitting across from him, a representative of an unknown organization called 'Wakanda' looked like an olive, stuffed into a too-tight suit and visibly sweating.
"We were starting to worry that you would not consider our offer, Mistah Wilson," the man, named T'Chaka wheezed as he spoke. "We were most pleased to hear your response."
On either side of T'Chaka sat a woman. Both were, like him, from the ivory coast. On T'Chaka's right sat a rather young looking girl with her hair done up in a beehive style. In her hands was a rather simple clipboard covered in papers written in a language Slade certainly didn't speak.
The secretary, and likely plaything of the old man, didn't hold Slade's interest.
It was the woman on T'Chaka's left that kept Slade's lone eye. The woman was tall, taller than her 'superior' and had her hair done in tight braids that went down her back. She was also incredibly fit, possibly as much so as Slade himself. And, attached to her left wrist by a handcuff, was a briefcase.
Neither woman had been named, an action that told Slade quite a lot even as it told him very little.
"I've been kept busy on my assignments," Slade answered the man and his not-so-subtle question. "Troubleshooting is a very in-demand skill these days."
"Yes... yes, so it is. And we would very much like to hire you to shoot some trouble for us, Mistah Wilson."
Slade could barely keep from rolling his eye. A bit of self-restraint that he noticed quite a few of the other 'patrons' didn't bother with.
"We've been experiencing a number of 'technical issues' that we would like you to resolve," the girl on T'Chaka's right said as she pulled several papers loose from her clipboard and slid them over. "And we are given to understand that you have a sliding scale of expenses for more difficult issues."
Slade quirked his eyebrow at the much more coherent speech of the still-nameless girl before looking down at the papers.
Then he licked his lips in consternation at the photographs he'd been given.
"...These 'technical issues' could be a bit more difficult than you might think," Slade said as he rearranged the papers to look them over.
A mug shot, a profile. A summary of publicly available information on a target. Their likes, dislikes, habits...
Admittedly it was all information that Slade would go out and verify but he wasn't about to complain about being given actual intel.
"We know this," T'Chaka said as he raised a hand to flag down a waiter. "And you will know that these difficulties will be well compensated."
Slade paused at one specific page as T'Chaka started ordering the menu.
The -whole- menu.
T'Chaka didn't just want the 'trouble' dealt with. The fat fool wanted the Terminator to 'troubleshoot' the issue in public!
The heat couldn't possibly be worth whatever they could afford to pay.
"Well, I would hate to waste your time but I'm not sure that you could afford my rate for this problem of yours," the assassin told the trio. "Especially not under the restrictions you've outlined."
"Ramonda?" T'Chaka said, jerking his head to his left.
The warrior woman lifted the briefcase attached to her and placed it on the table with a loud 'Clunk!', then used her cuffed hand to open it.
Slade carefully swallowed at the sight of a very large pile of uncut... 'rocks'.
A lot of 'rocks'.
The man looked between the contents of the suitcase, then to the pictures, then back to the case.
"...I think we can work something out," Slade said, his throat suddenly rather parched.
"Fantastic!" T'Chaka shouted as he reached over to clap a meaty hand on Slade's shoulder. "Wonderful! You will not regret dealing with Wakanda, we are paying very well!"
"...Yes," Slade agreed as the briefcase was closed and put back to Ramonda's side. "Very well indeed."
For a briefcase full of 'rocks' like that?
Slade looked back down to the photographs and began to fold the documents, stowing them inside of his suit jacket.
Well, whatever Gordon Godfrey had done to upset the people across from him?
That was really his own fault, now wasn't it?
-----
Alchemist felt... good. Relieved, really. It was practically therapeutic for him to just unload and properly tell someone about what all was going on. To pass on some of what he knew to someone that could properly help.
Sure, it carried a little risk with it. Ganthet's people were among the most stubborn and unreasonable in the galaxy. That came from being older than most planets, really.
They might simply decide not to listen. Or they could take too long to verify his claims and lose whatever opportunities they presented.
Or they could toss him into a science cell on Oa and try to wring out every little secret he knew.
But he was fairly confident he could escape if they tried that. Without even shedding blood, he was pretty sure.
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to help us with a little time travel issue, would you?" Alchemist asked after a long moment of silence. He'd waited until Ganthet had finished his second cup of coffee, waited until the Guardian had settled his nerves a bit.
"And what makes you think I could do that?" Ganthet asked in turn. There wasn't any hostility in the question, just curiosity. "Supposing that I could do that, for what reason should I do so?"
"We have someone on the Watchtower that was recently rescued from the mind of Aethyr, the prison the Kryptonians used and referred to as the 'Phantom Zone'. Imaginative, as always. She's from the distant future and getting her back home is beyond the power of anyone here." Alchemist did not roll his eyes at Krypton or their naming schemes. Most of the other entities in their reality weren't any better. "As to thinking you could do it? Look, I don't like time travel. At all. But I know the mechanics to it and the people that can pull it off. Unrestricted Green Lanterns, anyone on the Moebius Chair, Booster Gold whenever he actually turns up- Future Earthlings actually treat time travel as part of a vacation package, if you can believe that."
Alchemist took a long draw to finish his water before he continued.
"If you can't help, that's fine. I've got another idea, it's just a gamble."
"I believe it may be best to explore alternatives before I may be of service," Ganthet told him. "I was tasked with observing, not interfering."
Alchemist was tempted to fire back that observation was interference but held his tongue. Ganthet knew what he was doing and he knew the implications of his presence. Making such a simple argument wouldn't change anything or convince the Guardian to act.
"Alright," the wizard instead agreed. "I'll need to get at a computer but I can try to send a message in a bottle to see if any of her friends will come pick her up."
Standing up, Alchemist grabbed Ganthet's now-empty mug and made quick work of cleaning it by way of Prestidigitation-
He'd already recovered enough that he couldn't feel the Cantrip at all. A positive sign.
-and made his way for the door with the small blue man hovering after him. He ignored the various adults scrambling off to look busy, well aware that they'd been listening.
If he'd wanted privacy, he could have done any number of things to get it.
"Do you believe that your attempt will succeed?" Ganthet asked as they walked into the infirmary.
"I believe it will take me all of five minutes. If I succeed, that's fantastic. If it fails, I haven't wasted much on the effort." Which was something Alchemist wished a lot more people would at least try at.
Small, inexpensive failures were fine. Sub-optimal solutions were perfectly acceptable, so long as the final outcome was still within the desired range.
Perfection, he knew, would often get in the way of actual progress.
Pulling up a text document on the computer, Alchemist named it after the date and began to type. A bit of normal jargon for the facility, he might have cribbed a bit off of the notes that were left lying around the desk, then near the end he put in a handful of lines that he hoped would actually be useful.
--at approximately 1305, a sphere of light appeared in the medbay and deposited a number of individuals claiming to be from the Legion of Superheroes. Named 'Chameleon Boy' and 'Saturn Girl'. Their arrival was preceded by an uptick in radiation in the local area that was later identified as 'Chronoton Radiation' which they claimed would render those afflicted by it as being partially or fully immune to alterations made to the timeline--
"I do wonder how, exactly, you came across this information," Ganthet asked as he read the fictitious document over the wizard's shoulder.
"These two, and Tinya Wazzo in her room, were featured as part of that record I told you about," Alchemist idly explained as he continued typing.
Finally, at 1303, Alchemist clicked save and sat back to wait.
"And what will you do if this does not work?" Ganthet asked.
Alchemist idly noted that the small man was looking at his ring rather than the wizard and had a rather thoughtful expression on his face.
"Well, after this my options are to wait for someone else to turn up and help, or-"
The wizard was cut off rather abruptly when a crimson sphere began to fade into existence in the middle of the room.
"...huh," Alchemist mumbled, actually a bit at a loss for words as two people stepped out of the sphere made of honeycomb panels which began to shift to a dull yellow from its previous angry red.
"I must admit," Ganthet mused as he took in the young man and equally young woman that were looking around the room. "I was not expecting that to work."
"...Yeah," Alchemist agreed as he examined the severe looking blonde girl with cold blue eyes and the orange, vaguely reptilian boy next to her. "I didn't think it would work, either."
-----
Clark leaned back in the chair he'd taken in the recently vacated dining area and rubbed at his forehead.
"Who had 'summon time travelers' on their bingo card?" the Man of Steel asked the room at large.
"You're kidding, right?" Hawkwoman asked. The woman had her headdress off and the others had been filling her in but everyone was abruptly silenced by Superman.
"No. I wish I was."
"So, just to summarize here," Flash began, "we've got multiple doomsday prophecies. A, uh, there are now Red Lanterns to go with the Green. Very Christmasy. Except they're, like, super angry. All the time."
"And the one Alchemist was talking about is a cat!" someone shouted from near the back of the room.
"Yes. A very, very spicy kitty," Flash agreed.
"What next? An Orange Lantern? Indigo? All the colors of the rainbow?" Hal asked. The man was leaning against the wall next to the door and had his arms crossed. "I would've liked a heads up."
"Don't forget the thing about the alien gods," Diana interjected to quell the complaints. "That are somehow connected to what Psimon turned into."
"Everyone- Everyone, shh!" Clark told the room at large, a look of concentration on his face as he stared at the wall between him and the infirmary. "...Does anyone know who Trigon is? One of the time travelers, Saturn Girl? She just said there's no way that Alchemist is actually Alchemist 'The man who forged Trigon's Bane'."
"...Sound like magic to me," Captain Atom admitted. "Got anything else?"
"Some place called 'Infinity Bastion' but it's not a name I'm familiar with," Clark admitted. "Actually, Alchemist is just laughing now. A lot."
"Is that a good sign or a bad one?"
"...I have no idea."
Disclaimer Me Do: I own nothing you recognize. And most of what you don't recognize, I still don't own.
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28/11/2010
Guardian Ganthet was not used to feeling off-center.
And he was especially unused to feeling so without an immediate crisis occurring that he and the other Guardians had missed.
Well, there were certainly a number of crises that he'd been made aware of but they were all in the nebulous and ever-changing future.
Something even the prophet before him had admitted as making his knowledge of the future unreliable.
"Is there anything else," the Guardian asked, his heart pumping and his head pounding with every word, "that I should be made aware of?"
"...Nothing specific to this timeline that I can think of," the wizard admitted after a second of thought. "The Prophecy of Blackest Night refers to the Black Light Entity. Atrocitus is making more Red Lanterns, including a few on Earth. Parallax actually serves a purpose, despite being impossible to really direct or control... Nothing you or the others are unaware of, really."
Ganthet closed his eyes and quietly sighed.
No, none of what he'd been told was new. Not exactly. Those sentences did carry a bit more nuance but it wasn't anything he could really do much about.
Even the Red Lanterns on Earth, whilst an unpleasant surprise, wasn't necessarily critical. They were often the victims of their rings, not the other way around.
"Perhaps we could discuss something less... distressing," Ganthet suggested. The Maltusian sighed and turned his head to look out one of the windows, aimed towards the planet far below. "You can seemingly create Willpower out of other materials, yes? May I request a demonstration?"
"Yeah, not a problem," the man answered as he began to poke his finger at seemingly thin air. After several moments, he reached his arm into a hole in space and extracted a red crystal that was... Ganthet's ring supplied the measurements to him, converted into the most common units used on Earth. Alchemist had extracted a red crystal, brimming with magic that measured roughly thirty centimeters in length.
Pressing one finger against the side of it, the crystal slowly began to change from magical red to the comforting green of Will.
And Ganthet made note of the fact that Alchemist was gritting his teeth and quietly hissing in distress as the shade and hue of the crystal changed. Once it was complete, the man picked up the solid crystal of manifested Will and examined it with a critical eye.
"Here," the mage said as he handed the artifact over. "You'd be a better expert on how useful that is. But it should be a small and technically unlimited source of Willpower."
Ganthet examined the green crystal, the verdant glow that came from deep within. He could feel the noticeable trickle of power coming from it, interacting with the aura of his own ring.
-- Charging... -- the little device whispered into his ear, confirming what he'd been told.
"And you can make as many of these as you desire?" Ganthet had to ask. That kind of power... It was clearly not so refined as the Forge but, what it lacked in complexity, it certainly had other benefits of critical note.
"Those, no. I'd only come across a handful of these very fascinating crystals of supposedly endless magical power. They're actually supposed to be used in the magical manufacturing of goods, believe it or not."
Ganthet looked down to the crystal in his hand and raised one rather bushy eyebrow in consideration. If his own familiarity with magic was anything to go by, a surprisingly thorough understanding given his inclusion during the purge of the Empire of Tears, then the crystal Alchemist had initially used had been attuned to the element of fire.
And now, it was attuned to the concept of Will.
"What all are you intending to do with ready access to Willpower?" Ganthet asked as he stowed the crystal away.
"Honestly?" the human asked before he drank a mouthful of water. "Not very much. The weapon made for Alan Scott is about the limit of my intentions. Making something for myself would be a waste of time and effort, given that it responds best to an individual of strong willpower. As such, that sword was a proof of concept for the possibility of using esoteric materials."
Ganthet looked down at his empty mug and considered the man's words.
The other Guardians would certainly consider that to be a good thing. And, given what his ring had picked up as he'd scanned the admittedly primitive weapon, Alchemist did not seem capable of actually replicating a power ring.
Still, an uncontrolled source of Will would most certainly be considered a threat to the others.
Alan Scott was proof enough that humans could use their raw willpower to imitate the tools of the Oans, after all.
"Truth be told, I really just enjoy making things," Alchemist continued, unaware that Ganthet was reviewing the data he'd acquired on the man. Especially the scan he'd taken which he was comparing against prior scans performed by the local Lanterns. "And Will was a relatively simple material to come across. Rage could prove interesting but I can't get the local Lantern to let me close enough to examine his ring."
"...You know the location of the Red Lantern of Earth?" Ganthet asked, pulling his eyes away from the miss-matched and clearly wrong data. "And you have been attempting to approach him?"
"Well, he's a cat. A creature from a species that was reduced through the Dreaming into a small and relatively harmless animal that functionally domesticated itself so that it could have ready access to food drawn by human agriculture. Dex-Star, the Red Lantern, is honestly a rather tragic figure," Alchemist explained before taking another small sip of water. "The human he pair-bonded with was murdered and then the local authorities kicked him out on to the streets. A violation of policy, of course. And then he was captured by a group of local youths who thought it would be good fun to tie him into a sack and toss him off of a bridge and into the river below."
Ganthet pursed his lips, ignoring the gasp from the eavesdroppers by the doorway.
"He was, rather understandably, a bit upset." Ganthet nearly snorted at Alchemist's rather intentional understatement. "I've been trying to feed him from time to time to see if I can't get him to approach me. As I understand it, removing the ring should be lethal but I think I might be able to get around that. Hopefully."
"Magic, I assume?" Ganthet asked before he hovered up and headed back over to the coffee maker.
"I explicitly market my healing magic, so I am rather confident in it," Alchemist admitted as he stood up and followed the Guardian. "If I can't remove the ring myself, I can at least bring Dexter peace. The ring will remove itself if the host stops being angry enough to sustain its functions."
"And what do you intend to do with Rage, should you succeed at acquiring the ring?" Ganthet asked as he began the process of imitating what the mage had done to make the coffee machine operate.
"Probably make a small crystal of it, the same as I made for you of Will."
Ganthet paused in his efforts to turn and look at the man, one eyebrow raised in curiosity as he made a 'go on' motion.
"Rage is just as much a part of the greater whole of reality as Will or Greed. And propping up the avatars is critical if you don't want us to have another Big Crunch, Ganthet. Abuse of the emotional spectrum caused the last one."
If the Guardian wasn't so experienced in controlling himself, he would've dropped the pitcher of water he was manipulating.
That...
That was not information that anyone should have!
"Hmm, you know? I do believe I forgot a small detail, earlier," Alchemist said as he moved around Ganthet and began to prepare the machine for him. "The New Gods of Freedom, Propaganda, Child Abuse and a member of the Female Fury Battalion all reside on Earth at the moment."
"...That is not a small detail," Ganthet argued, swallowing thickly as the machine began to hiss.
"Compared to the Lords of Order and Chaos plotting in the background, they really are," Alchemist disagreed.
Ganthet... couldn't really argue that point.
Although he truly, truly wished that he could.
-----
Deathstroke the Terminator needed a break from the long-term assignment he'd unknowingly agreed to with Lex Luthor.
How was he supposed to have known starting out that Red Herring was a conjuror of some sort? Did that imply that L, Leopold Stotch, was also a mage of some flavor?
What was the connection? How were the two related? Which one was responsible for tormenting him with a handful of stuffed animals?!
Slade breathed, calming his frayed nerves.
That... had been nearly a month in the past. His every effort to track down Red Herring had resulted in dead ends and more spiders.
More... spiders...
Slade shuddered, just thinking about it.
He needed a distraction. And contract requests were piling up. More than a few had been withdrawn, sent to individuals or organizations with more time to follow up on them.
Like Deadshot.
But there had been one that was still open. A request to meet in person to discuss details.
And the client had already approved of Slade's 'consultation' fee.
Someone wanted the job done properly and they were willing to pay to have it done.
Slade could appreciate that.
And that mutual appreciation saw Deathstroke the Terminator sitting across from an elderly black man in an upscale Italian restaurant in Gotham. Owned by Falcone, of course.
Slade wore a pressed, charcoal suit with a simple red tie. The man sitting across from him, a representative of an unknown organization called 'Wakanda' looked like an olive, stuffed into a too-tight suit and visibly sweating.
"We were starting to worry that you would not consider our offer, Mistah Wilson," the man, named T'Chaka wheezed as he spoke. "We were most pleased to hear your response."
On either side of T'Chaka sat a woman. Both were, like him, from the ivory coast. On T'Chaka's right sat a rather young looking girl with her hair done up in a beehive style. In her hands was a rather simple clipboard covered in papers written in a language Slade certainly didn't speak.
The secretary, and likely plaything of the old man, didn't hold Slade's interest.
It was the woman on T'Chaka's left that kept Slade's lone eye. The woman was tall, taller than her 'superior' and had her hair done in tight braids that went down her back. She was also incredibly fit, possibly as much so as Slade himself. And, attached to her left wrist by a handcuff, was a briefcase.
Neither woman had been named, an action that told Slade quite a lot even as it told him very little.
"I've been kept busy on my assignments," Slade answered the man and his not-so-subtle question. "Troubleshooting is a very in-demand skill these days."
"Yes... yes, so it is. And we would very much like to hire you to shoot some trouble for us, Mistah Wilson."
Slade could barely keep from rolling his eye. A bit of self-restraint that he noticed quite a few of the other 'patrons' didn't bother with.
"We've been experiencing a number of 'technical issues' that we would like you to resolve," the girl on T'Chaka's right said as she pulled several papers loose from her clipboard and slid them over. "And we are given to understand that you have a sliding scale of expenses for more difficult issues."
Slade quirked his eyebrow at the much more coherent speech of the still-nameless girl before looking down at the papers.
Then he licked his lips in consternation at the photographs he'd been given.
"...These 'technical issues' could be a bit more difficult than you might think," Slade said as he rearranged the papers to look them over.
A mug shot, a profile. A summary of publicly available information on a target. Their likes, dislikes, habits...
Admittedly it was all information that Slade would go out and verify but he wasn't about to complain about being given actual intel.
"We know this," T'Chaka said as he raised a hand to flag down a waiter. "And you will know that these difficulties will be well compensated."
Slade paused at one specific page as T'Chaka started ordering the menu.
The -whole- menu.
T'Chaka didn't just want the 'trouble' dealt with. The fat fool wanted the Terminator to 'troubleshoot' the issue in public!
The heat couldn't possibly be worth whatever they could afford to pay.
"Well, I would hate to waste your time but I'm not sure that you could afford my rate for this problem of yours," the assassin told the trio. "Especially not under the restrictions you've outlined."
"Ramonda?" T'Chaka said, jerking his head to his left.
The warrior woman lifted the briefcase attached to her and placed it on the table with a loud 'Clunk!', then used her cuffed hand to open it.
Slade carefully swallowed at the sight of a very large pile of uncut... 'rocks'.
A lot of 'rocks'.
The man looked between the contents of the suitcase, then to the pictures, then back to the case.
"...I think we can work something out," Slade said, his throat suddenly rather parched.
"Fantastic!" T'Chaka shouted as he reached over to clap a meaty hand on Slade's shoulder. "Wonderful! You will not regret dealing with Wakanda, we are paying very well!"
"...Yes," Slade agreed as the briefcase was closed and put back to Ramonda's side. "Very well indeed."
For a briefcase full of 'rocks' like that?
Slade looked back down to the photographs and began to fold the documents, stowing them inside of his suit jacket.
Well, whatever Gordon Godfrey had done to upset the people across from him?
That was really his own fault, now wasn't it?
-----
Alchemist felt... good. Relieved, really. It was practically therapeutic for him to just unload and properly tell someone about what all was going on. To pass on some of what he knew to someone that could properly help.
Sure, it carried a little risk with it. Ganthet's people were among the most stubborn and unreasonable in the galaxy. That came from being older than most planets, really.
They might simply decide not to listen. Or they could take too long to verify his claims and lose whatever opportunities they presented.
Or they could toss him into a science cell on Oa and try to wring out every little secret he knew.
But he was fairly confident he could escape if they tried that. Without even shedding blood, he was pretty sure.
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to help us with a little time travel issue, would you?" Alchemist asked after a long moment of silence. He'd waited until Ganthet had finished his second cup of coffee, waited until the Guardian had settled his nerves a bit.
"And what makes you think I could do that?" Ganthet asked in turn. There wasn't any hostility in the question, just curiosity. "Supposing that I could do that, for what reason should I do so?"
"We have someone on the Watchtower that was recently rescued from the mind of Aethyr, the prison the Kryptonians used and referred to as the 'Phantom Zone'. Imaginative, as always. She's from the distant future and getting her back home is beyond the power of anyone here." Alchemist did not roll his eyes at Krypton or their naming schemes. Most of the other entities in their reality weren't any better. "As to thinking you could do it? Look, I don't like time travel. At all. But I know the mechanics to it and the people that can pull it off. Unrestricted Green Lanterns, anyone on the Moebius Chair, Booster Gold whenever he actually turns up- Future Earthlings actually treat time travel as part of a vacation package, if you can believe that."
Alchemist took a long draw to finish his water before he continued.
"If you can't help, that's fine. I've got another idea, it's just a gamble."
"I believe it may be best to explore alternatives before I may be of service," Ganthet told him. "I was tasked with observing, not interfering."
Alchemist was tempted to fire back that observation was interference but held his tongue. Ganthet knew what he was doing and he knew the implications of his presence. Making such a simple argument wouldn't change anything or convince the Guardian to act.
"Alright," the wizard instead agreed. "I'll need to get at a computer but I can try to send a message in a bottle to see if any of her friends will come pick her up."
Standing up, Alchemist grabbed Ganthet's now-empty mug and made quick work of cleaning it by way of Prestidigitation-
He'd already recovered enough that he couldn't feel the Cantrip at all. A positive sign.
-and made his way for the door with the small blue man hovering after him. He ignored the various adults scrambling off to look busy, well aware that they'd been listening.
If he'd wanted privacy, he could have done any number of things to get it.
"Do you believe that your attempt will succeed?" Ganthet asked as they walked into the infirmary.
"I believe it will take me all of five minutes. If I succeed, that's fantastic. If it fails, I haven't wasted much on the effort." Which was something Alchemist wished a lot more people would at least try at.
Small, inexpensive failures were fine. Sub-optimal solutions were perfectly acceptable, so long as the final outcome was still within the desired range.
Perfection, he knew, would often get in the way of actual progress.
Pulling up a text document on the computer, Alchemist named it after the date and began to type. A bit of normal jargon for the facility, he might have cribbed a bit off of the notes that were left lying around the desk, then near the end he put in a handful of lines that he hoped would actually be useful.
--at approximately 1305, a sphere of light appeared in the medbay and deposited a number of individuals claiming to be from the Legion of Superheroes. Named 'Chameleon Boy' and 'Saturn Girl'. Their arrival was preceded by an uptick in radiation in the local area that was later identified as 'Chronoton Radiation' which they claimed would render those afflicted by it as being partially or fully immune to alterations made to the timeline--
"I do wonder how, exactly, you came across this information," Ganthet asked as he read the fictitious document over the wizard's shoulder.
"These two, and Tinya Wazzo in her room, were featured as part of that record I told you about," Alchemist idly explained as he continued typing.
Finally, at 1303, Alchemist clicked save and sat back to wait.
"And what will you do if this does not work?" Ganthet asked.
Alchemist idly noted that the small man was looking at his ring rather than the wizard and had a rather thoughtful expression on his face.
"Well, after this my options are to wait for someone else to turn up and help, or-"
The wizard was cut off rather abruptly when a crimson sphere began to fade into existence in the middle of the room.
"...huh," Alchemist mumbled, actually a bit at a loss for words as two people stepped out of the sphere made of honeycomb panels which began to shift to a dull yellow from its previous angry red.
"I must admit," Ganthet mused as he took in the young man and equally young woman that were looking around the room. "I was not expecting that to work."
"...Yeah," Alchemist agreed as he examined the severe looking blonde girl with cold blue eyes and the orange, vaguely reptilian boy next to her. "I didn't think it would work, either."
-----
Clark leaned back in the chair he'd taken in the recently vacated dining area and rubbed at his forehead.
"Who had 'summon time travelers' on their bingo card?" the Man of Steel asked the room at large.
"You're kidding, right?" Hawkwoman asked. The woman had her headdress off and the others had been filling her in but everyone was abruptly silenced by Superman.
"No. I wish I was."
"So, just to summarize here," Flash began, "we've got multiple doomsday prophecies. A, uh, there are now Red Lanterns to go with the Green. Very Christmasy. Except they're, like, super angry. All the time."
"And the one Alchemist was talking about is a cat!" someone shouted from near the back of the room.
"Yes. A very, very spicy kitty," Flash agreed.
"What next? An Orange Lantern? Indigo? All the colors of the rainbow?" Hal asked. The man was leaning against the wall next to the door and had his arms crossed. "I would've liked a heads up."
"Don't forget the thing about the alien gods," Diana interjected to quell the complaints. "That are somehow connected to what Psimon turned into."
"Everyone- Everyone, shh!" Clark told the room at large, a look of concentration on his face as he stared at the wall between him and the infirmary. "...Does anyone know who Trigon is? One of the time travelers, Saturn Girl? She just said there's no way that Alchemist is actually Alchemist 'The man who forged Trigon's Bane'."
"...Sound like magic to me," Captain Atom admitted. "Got anything else?"
"Some place called 'Infinity Bastion' but it's not a name I'm familiar with," Clark admitted. "Actually, Alchemist is just laughing now. A lot."
"Is that a good sign or a bad one?"
"...I have no idea."
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SiegfriedisOP
Calamity Demon King of Time
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Did he time travel, turn himself female, and then became Raven's mom?
- Pronouns
- he
LMAO, dude basically thrown Hawking's time traveller party and people actually showed up!
That's exactly what I was thinking of when I wrote that!
First Trigon, Then Perpetua!
- Location
- England
SMBC did a rather depressing deconstruction of how the Time Traveller party thing could go.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Black stars I hope so xD
Magos Tractor-1
Archmagos Dominus
- Location
- Somewhere in Mars, Olymus Mons probably
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
See, Earthlings? Alchemist is the sanest out of you lot! If the only person who can follow his knowledge dump is older than the entire Human species, maybe you all need to git gud… fast.
As expected of this stunted void dragon that is Alchemist, his BS has tainted Destiny's Book and made it useless for, a minimum of, 1,000 years.
It does make me curious how future history books look at Alchemist. Quite excellently if his title of 'Forger of Trigon's Bane' is of any indication. But I wonder what flaws of his has been recorded. His island becoming a sanctuary for people is also nice to see
A Maltusian is showing worrying signs of developing a coffee habit. Earth exporting coffee to Oa when?
As expected of this stunted void dragon that is Alchemist, his BS has tainted Destiny's Book and made it useless for, a minimum of, 1,000 years.
It does make me curious how future history books look at Alchemist. Quite excellently if his title of 'Forger of Trigon's Bane' is of any indication. But I wonder what flaws of his has been recorded. His island becoming a sanctuary for people is also nice to see
A Maltusian is showing worrying signs of developing a coffee habit. Earth exporting coffee to Oa when?
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- Location
- Finland
Considering not only does Alchemist have the concept of MURDER as a choice for transmuting but is also iterating for a weapon to use against Zeus, something that can take out Trigon is easily on that path.
RottenSuccphagus
ⴉⴀⴞⴀⴁⴄⴐⴈ
- Location
- Georgia
it's a bad one.
a very bad one, for everyone there.
but for us readers, its a very good sign.
- Location
- hell
The only possible response to this is "Well, technically I'm a dragon"
Edit: Also, great reassurance for the future.
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- Location
- South Carolina
Why ever not? You're literally a time traveller.
"Golly! I went back to both the time and place Elvis was alive and this person claiming they're Elvis is here! Impossible! Preposterous, even!"
- Location
- Planet Earth
I think its more like if you went back in time and met elvis when he was 16 and looking completely different and going "no way you're the elvis who becomes famous for rock and roll, you're not nearly impressive enough!"
Which, like, not much better since you're going back in time to before they'd had the time and experiences to become that impressive but still.
Magpy
Very Curious
- Location
- Australia, but actually USA (or is it?)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's not quite Hawking's party, that was more, "Here's an opportunity for time travelers of all ages to meet up! Come here and party!" While what Alchemist did is more, "A few hundred years in the future there's gonna be these people who I know for a fact can time travel and their method, so I'm gonna leave a note saying they went to this specific point in time so that they have to now travel there in order to preserve the integrity of the timeline."
Basically, Hawking invited them all to a party, while Alchemist gaslit them into coming.
Edit: and he didn't even prepare refreshments for them! The nerve!
Basically, Hawking invited them all to a party, while Alchemist gaslit them into coming.
Edit: and he didn't even prepare refreshments for them! The nerve!
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- Location
- Isekai'd to this shitty world we're live in
You're forgetting Al is a Void Dragon. Unless those two are from something like a 40th millennium, he's still there, alive.
Hell, by the point his natural draconic health would take a dip down, he might be a true immortal, maybe even a minor god.
Ganthet: "And what do you intend to do with Rage, should you succeed at acquiring the ring?"
Alchemist: (dramatic voice) "I shall make a friendship bracelet with all the colors of the rainbow."
Ganthet:
???[many chapters later]
Jinx: (amused/annoyed her friendship bracelet is a plot-relevant item)
Yuffie:
"BEHOLD DAH POWAAAH OF FRIENDSHIP!!!"Jinx: (rolls eyes)
- Location
- Planet Earth
are we sure those are gemstones and not vibranium?
Al is just planning to upgrade his healing beat sticks into LIFE beat sticks