You are Mona Merola-Morales. At night, you dream . . .
Horizon, City of Leviathan's Rest – Location #$^&!@ – February 21, 2067
You are Nora Kim and you are going to murder someone.
Well, okay. You're going to murder someone
eventually. Metaphorically. The situation you're in currently can't be solved with murder right now, which is a shame because you could
really go for some murdering right about now.
What were you talking about again?
The cauldron of growing psychic energy that will swallow Horizon and possibly the entire world?
Right. That.
"Valiant Silver, are you there?!"
"I'm here, Moon River," you say into your comm, "I can confirm that five of the Catch-22 have united. Get Lady Leizi out here. The Red Huntress too, unless she thinks she can take one out."
"I tried!" The Red Huntress cries, her voice already low and guttural from her transformation. Wait, she's changed that much already? Things really are going to shit. "They just regenerate its—it's too much!"
"Drop your mark," you order, "We're past the point of conventional violence."
"What's left then?" Moon River asks.
"
Unconventional violence."
Your HUD's colors change to cherry red as you activate the "paper" module. Jets of fire created ex nihilo by your suit's pyrokinesis erupt around the nearest Catch-22, who currently looks like a female office worker. You engulf her in flame, searing her very bones to ash. Despite this, it mindlessly continues her march toward the where five of them had already joined.
What idiot let them get this close together?!
You violently curse under your breath. The Catch-22 were an enigma. They were twenty-two people who all randomly appeared in different parts of the world on the same day. No one knew where they came from—they just showed up and starting play-acting in society like they had always been there. One, resembling a firefighter, walked out of a burning building. Another who looked like a nurse worked a shift at a hospital, and so on and so forth.
Except, they weren't really people and they couldn't fully blend in. It was like watching a child who only half-understands what a job entails. Sure, it understood that a firefight puts water on fire, but not where, why, or when it was appropriate to do so. All of the Catch–22 were quickly apprehend, and then, something became apparent—they were nearly mindless. Unable to communicate, unable to learn, and unable to do more than blankly act out a facsimile of their given role.
Until two in Horizon got within a hundred yards of each other. Then the nightmare started.
Because the Catch-22 were a
hivemind. And for every member that was in proximity to another, their intelligence grew exponentially. Two together were as smart as the most brilliant person in the world. Three were more intelligent than any human had ever been. Four had psychic powers on par with Valkyrie at her apex. Five could sculpt reality like marble.
And there were currently thirteen all on the loose in Horizon right now.
What moron—what
fucking idiot—let two of them get next to each other? There was a reason even Wonderland couldn't house more than three at a time. All the Catch-22 wanted was to reunite, and, the more that rejoined, the easier that got. You couldn't kill them; they were impossibly tough and if you deal a fatal injury then they would just come back in a different place and in a different form. All you could do was keep them separate and keep them stupid.
And now five were together.
Today has really started on a sour note.
A tendril of pure thought whipped and disrupted your flames. You sent a jet to burn the five, but the fire died as soon as it reached them. They telekinetically lifted the office lady and pulled her into the collective.
Fuck.
"Six together!" you shouted, "Do we have eyes on the other seven?"
"Yeah, boss," Moon River said in her synthesized voice, "Two are free. Adamant encased another one in adamantium and Uiara is keeping that one underwater. She's frozen yet another one, but they're both still making progress. Radiant Silvergirl has three separated in black holes, but it's taking everything she has to keep them still."
"Moving to link up with Uiara," you say, your antigravity field letting you jump hundreds of feet in the air and land safely. "Any response on back-up?"
"Global Justice has finally responded, but they said they're not risking Justiciar," Moon River relays, "Her power doesn't work on them anyway. They're sending Shutdown and Joules instead. Shutdown might be able to seal one of them."
"New Dawn?"
"Novalight said they would be prepared in case we failed—"
"
Are you fucking kidding me?"
"—but Wolong is scrambling a team including Heavenly Astrologian, Cisma, and Umibōzu. Also your old mentor has some drones on the way. ETA ten minutes. Calm down, boss lady. Don't get your panties in a twist."
"Good. Tell SLAYERS and
Les Quatre Saisons to stay on standby."
"One sec," Moon River went silent for a second before coming back, "SLAYERS acknowledges. Été used some choice language at being given orders but Hiver thinks he can help with his gravity fields."
"Good thinking. Get him—"
Your words are drowned out by a massive explosion that sends a glacier's worth of ice into the air. The six are suddenly ahead of you where Uiara should be. You don't see her—where is she?!
Suddenly, the color of the world changes as two more are absorbed by the Catch-22. Eight together. More than have ever been in one place at one time. Around them is a shimmering bubble of power that bends and distorts your vision, like looking through a funhouse mirror. They're all moving in unison, heads perfectly synchronized. They're pointing and laughing at something hovering in the air—a shattered figure in the shape of a person.
Yazmin!
You move faster than you have in your entire life, jets burning bright on your back. You grasp Uiara in your arms when you feel it: the weight of gravity here is unnatural. At least several dozen times that of the Earth. The air is thick and burns your throat to breathe. Your senses reverse; you can feel color and taste joy.
Uiara is floating by dint of the Catch-22's telekinesis, the enhanced gravity suffocating her and causing all her limbs to snap under their own weight. You feel it start to pull your brain through your skull and pulverize your bones as the Catch-22 turn to look at you all at once.
Nope. Nope. Fuuuuuck this.
Two can play the telekinesis game, you think as you change your loadout to "scissors". You slash a nearby Catch-22 with a blade of psychic energy extending from your arm and fire a stream of pure force from your suit. It knocks the wind out of you, but it drags you and Uiara out of their area of effect.
Yazmin desperately gasps for air as you hold and watch the two free members join the collective. Now only Radiant Silvergirl is keeping them separate.
"Yazy? Yazy? Are you okay?" you grunt. Uiara is still unable to move, coughing and weezing, but twitches a hand in acknowledgement.
"Boss. . . y-you can see them from space now. It's like a pillar of energy as tall as Jacob's Ladder. I . . . w-what are we gonna do?" Moon River says.
"I. . . I can hold these three. Lure the rest closer and I will use my repulsion to scatter them," Radiant Silvergirl says over comms. You can hear the strain in her voice.
"Wait, no! New Dawn's almost here, guys! Hang on please!"
You lie back and think. Towarri isn't invulnerable. Yazy could barely survive being next to the Catch-22. Towarri's plan might have had merit before, but, as they are right now, the Catch-22 will go through her like a scythe through wheat. New Dawn is too far away to help—if they even still can. On top of that, the Catch-22 could teleport
before subsuming four more members. What can they do now?
". . . how much is Scarlet Maturity asking for again?" you sigh.
"Eight-hundred million, unlimited access to your lab, and three free commissions from you," Moon River says.
Ha! Is that all? And would he like a massage with that? Someone to rub his feet?
"And King's still MIA?"
"Y-yes, b-but I can keep trying to find him! Boss . . . Nora . . . you not thinking about using
it are you?"
You blow out a breath as you make your decision. You press a button on the arm of your suit. You look to the sky and wait.
"Yep."
"Nora,
please, no!
Please! Y-Yazmin! She's gonna use that armor again! Stop her!"
You feel a hand grab at your chest. Uiara is barely able to stand, her body still in ruins, but she holds you with an iron grip and her eyes burning. You take your helmet off and gently pry her hand away. You guy to her the ground and stroke her face, memorizing every line of it.
God, she's beautiful when she wants to strangle someone.
"I love you, Yazy," you say, "But I must go."
There is a loud
thud and spray of earth as a drone drops off a pod containing what you need nearby. You walk towards it, only to feel Uiara's hand on your leg.
"Why . . . you . . ." she chokes in little more than a whisper.
You give her a sad smile.
"Because, if not me, then who else? I can't just wait and hope someone else solves this problem."
That's not what heroes do.
You leave your heart behind and walk away. The pod slides open at your touch, revealing a round, modular device the size of your fist. It hums with an uncomfortable power.
Algernon-types tended to have specific fields of study where they used their power. It only made sense. Every use of your power brought you closer to the Rebound, so it was better to become the world's leading authority in one area of study rather than merely knowledgeable about multiple. Ọsanyìn had medicine, Steelhart has robotics, Mammoth Ibis has genetics, Anansi has computers, and Leathal Anodye has being a fucking asshole.
You put your helmet back on, reach behind your neck, and slide the device into the waiting port.
So what was the thing Valiant Silver knew more about than any other person, living or dead? Power armor? Energy Shielding? Psychic Fields? All close, but no.
The device crackles as it deconstructs itself and melds with the rest of your armor. Your armor's plating becomes more extensive, sharper. Your visor becomes a flat eyeshield over your eyes. You get cool shoulder pads and the crest on your head expands. You close your eyes and breathe in as you feel a connection jab into your neck and touch your spine.
The thing Valiant Silver knew more about than anyone else was . . . The knowledge gained in exchange for life, health, and sanity was about . . .
A message flashes across your HUD. A warning, a promise, a prayer.
. . .
metahuman powers.
ACT IN THE NAME OF GOOD, YE WHO BEARS THE CONSEQUENCES OF THY ACTIONS.
FIND THY LIMITS.
Ė̴͓̩͓̗̞̘̒͌͗̎̓͌̒͆̑̐͗̉̅X̵̘͉̲̘̯̣̄͆̈́̿̒͠Ć̵̖̗̘̙̽͑̈́Ȩ̵̛͚̲̣̜̖̳̰͙̠̠̫̳̎̏̄͐̆͜É̸̢͔̥͈͛̿́̓͗̅̔̐͠͝D̶̜̑͗̃̉̃́͛̍̆͘̕͝͠.
* * *
The lounge was the same as the last time you had been here. You were sitting on a couch in front of a low table illuminated by a flickering candle. The whole room was dimly lit, with the most light coming through a crack in the curtains that formed the wall behind you. Faint strands of music drifted in the air, the sounds of a great chorus muffled from behind the curtain.
In front of you was a bar with an impossibly expansive stock that stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. As you approached the countertop, a seat was already pulled for you with your usual drink waiting.
You sit down. You don't have forever, but time is fluid in this place. The Woman in Blue seated next to you gave you a smile behind her opera mask, martini glass held to her lips. To anyone else, she would have been stunning with her slight, elfen frame beautifully accentuated by her long, deep blue gown that pooled around her bare feet.
To you, she just looked like she didn't eat enough.
"Going back out there?" she asks, smile still on her face, "You can't keep doing it. Your soul can't handle it."
You snort and take a sip of a drink that tastes like starlight and your father's old bedtime stories. "Soul? Getting metaphysical, now?
"What else would you call it? Your essence? Your psyche? Your oar in the sea of the collective unconscious? 'Soul' is as apt a description as any."
You don't argue the point but roll your eyes and take another sip flavored like your first kiss.
The Woman in Blue studies you for a moment before tracing the lip of her glass with a long, delicate finger. "You haven't found them, have you? Those who I told you to seek. The rotting-corpse of a man and the child-who-never was?"
"As I told you, I will take advice from strangle hallucinations when you clearly and concisely explain
why. None of this 'you're not ready to know' crap. Just say what you mean or shut up."
She laughs, a clear, bell-like sound that you think is too raspy to be cute.
"That's not how this works. I can hide here because
they don't know to look for me. Telling you too much will let Augur know he's not alone."
". . . so you can see the future?"
She laughs again. It's really ugly, you think, like she's gargled sandpaper. "No. No one can see the future."
" . . . neat."
"Not very trusting, are you? But I know that." She leans forward, grabbing your arm with a feather-light touch made of iron. "But if you won't heed my advice, will you at least take me on stage with you?"
You gaze back and pry her fingers off your arm. "Depends. I don't perform with strangers. Ready to tell me who you are?"
"Of course," she takes off her mask and gazes back at you with your face, "
I'm Nora Kim."
"Nope. Nuh-uh. Fuck this. I'm out."
You get up from the table and got to approach the stage. But, before you do, you see something new. Something you've never seen here before.
There's another girl. She has dark skin, platinum blonde hair, and brown eyes so rich they look red. She's wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt with a picture of you in your armor on it and pink, fluffy slippers shaped like rabbits. She pauses mid-bite in the middle of eating the giant plate of spaghetti in front of her.
". . . who the fuck are you?"
"Oh, me? I'm, uh—wait. . . "
"What's going on?"
"What's going on?"
"I don't get it."
"I don't get it."
"Stop it!"
"Stop it!"
Reality shifts and distorts and your vision stretches like you're looking through a filled glass of water. Your head feels too small for the space it has to occupy, and you think you're going to vomit for a second. Then, just as quickly as the feeling comes, it passes.
You see Nora stumble grabbing her head and groaning. She looks at you with bleary eyes and asks, "Seriously, what the hell was that? What are you doing here?"
"I don't know!" you cry, "I don't know where 'here' is!"
"Wait," Nora says, "I recognize you. You're Mona, right? You're one of our interns in the Worker's Mitt? You make a really good chili?"
"The best chili!" you say proudly, "And yeah, that's me! I guess I'm dreaming or something? Crazy."
Nora shakes her head. "You're not dreaming. This is really happening. I think . . . you must have an extreme sensitivity to psychic fields. You subconsciously picked up on the burst from the EXCEED armor activating and got dragged her."
She considers you with a frown.
"Are you a metahuman?"
"Um, as of a month ago?" you say, trying to think.
"Huh. Remind me of this if you can when you wake up. We should train you. It's time for Justice Unlimited to expand anyway."
"Uhhh, yeah!" you say, freaking out a little, "
You have noooo idea . . ."
Nora approaches the curtain. "Don't follow me. It's . . . not safe out there."
You look from Nora to her doppelganger at the table. "Is it safer to go with you than it is to stay here with . . . you?"
Nora sees where you're looking and presses her lips together so tightly they disappear. Then sighs and motions for you to join her.
"Fair point. Okay kid, pack your bags.
You're about to go on a trip."
You take Nora's hand and she guides you to the otherside of the curtain.
It is a dissonant din of whiling voices all speaking, screaming, singing, supplicating and sensations you don't have the words for. Whorls and eddies of harmony swirl filling your heart with a rainbow spectrum of emotions that smell like fresh laundry. All the while there is a constant, low, droning note of a blind idiot god. A child could age from infancy to elderly age in the time it took to speak one syllable. Smaller and quieter, but just as distinct is the cry of a betrayed mother drifting from an unending imprisonment. There is a quick flash of a curious new life that is also somehow ancient looking at you, before it turns its gaze away. Finally, there is a gurgling of fetid meat amused by its own majesty. You've heard it before.
Really? Where?
It answered the cries of a child with a trillion eyes. You dealt it a wound. It was but a nick in a great sea of flesh, but it was enough that it became leery of voyeurism. The new sensation of ignorance was driving it to madness.
No way! Coolio.
Coolio, indeed. But the time in the spectral sea of the subconscious is over. It is time to wake up. It is time to
Ė̴͓̩͓̗̞̘̒͌͗̎̓͌̒͆̑̐͗̉̅X̵̘͉̲̘̯̣̄͆̈́̿̒͠Ć̵̖̗̘̙̽͑̈́Ȩ̵̛͚̲̣̜̖̳̰͙̠̠̫̳̎̏̄͐̆͜É̸̢͔̥͈͛̿́̓͗̅̔̐͠͝D̶̜̑͗̃̉̃́͛̍̆͘̕͝͠.
* * *
You . . . are Nora Kim? You shake your head and focus. Holding on to what happens Backstage was always like trying to hold water in your hands—it just trickles away. You have no time to try to hold on to memories right now anyway. The Catch-22 has just subsumed the last three members and is now turning toward you.
Thirteen of the Catch-22 together, all at once. You can
feel the world shudder.
Oh wait, that's literal. The ground splits and shatters as space folds like a napkin. They're trying . . . they're trying to bring the rest here. The nine other members. The Catch-22 wants to be whole.
Fuuuuuuck that.
You fold space yourself and in an instant you're in their sphere of artificial reality. But it's yours too. With a thought, ten-hundred-thousand of the sharpest blades of psychic energy The Red Huntress has ever produced appear and fall onto the Catch-22 like rain. You dice them down to the atom, but their component particles drift back in place like the wind assembling a puzzle.
They try to strike you with thousands of bolts of primal lighting, the air splitting as they try to dig through your armor and into your heart. You touch the lighting and it becomes streams of water shaped like a woman, which drives the Catch-22 down and pounds them over and over again with such titanic force that the ground turns molten.
All of this happens in the space between heart beats. You feel blood vessels burst in your eyes and the capillaries shatter in your nose. If it weren't for your power, the sheer calculations needed to control the psychic force from the Stage would have already caused an aneurysm. As it is, every second is another year off your life. You can only keep this up for moments longer before your body fails completely.
More than enough time.
The Catch-22, though mighty, don't have the same experience
living that you do. They can't adapt like you are, see the metaphors for the truth behind them and the lies made real. They can't shape the world like you can and they know it.
So they go for overwhelming force.
Space and time switch places. The finite nature of space becomes unlimited, endless expanses of world stretching in every direction. You could walk for a billion years in any direction and make no progress so, paradoxically, you can't move at all. And time, which once would go on forever, compresses to a definite amount that concludes with a single, fixed ending: you would be pulled into the Catch-22 and cease to exist.
There's nothing you can do to escape. They're power outmasses you the way the sun outmasses the rest of the solar system. They were being cute before; this is real strength. Your death will happen, is happening, has already happened. You will end like this.
So you cheat.
You change your armor's loadout to "rock". Pylons extend from your elbows as your shield doubles in strength. With the might of EXCEED you can use its final function. You embrace your fate and fall endlessly toward the Catch-22. As you do, you prepare yourself. You will need to time this perfectly.
Except you fall faster than you think. With horror, you realize the Catch-22 has been subtly bending the light around you, fooling your vision. They realized you were up to something. You're closer than you think. Too close to use your final trick. Time ends—
And
something pushes you back. A blast of light? A gravitational anomaly? Both? Either way, you have just enough time now. You prime your armor and it releases a
pulse—
Nullifying every metahuman power in range.
The bubble of unreality pops and the Catch-22 separate, twitching and thrashing mindlessly. You grab each of them and, with the enhanced strength in your armor, throw them as far away from each other as possible. Some suddenly stop midair before rocketing away at ridiculous speeds—Heavenly Astrologian is here. As you reach the last one, it hisses at you like a feral animal. You punch it in the face so hard it's head explodes.
Whoops. Gonna have to track down the new member now.
A shrill beeping lets you know the EXCEED is failing. Your armor explodes off of you as it loses the ability to contain the psychic force you're pulling from the Stage. It explodes away from you, driving you into the ground.
You, uh, can't feel your legs. Probably nothing.
As your vision starts to gray out, you hear people speaking nearby.
"Hey, finders keepers, Chump Jr.! And you,
Lady Leizi. How would you like to know what it's like to be with a hero instead of a zero—
Leviathan's Blood, you just kicked me in the nuts!"
Heh. Good ol' Zixuan. Guess you can pass out now? But as you let go and let unconsciousness take you, you can't help but think about that last moment with the Catch-22. When you were pushed back in the heart of that anomaly . . . something helped you. Someone?
For some reason, as you finally drift asleep, you remember the image of a swan in a black hole.
______________________________________________________________________________
Mona's Side Effect Discovered!
??? —> Extreme Psychic Field Sensitivity!
