Chapter Text
“Before we begin, I’d like to preface that everything you share in this session will be kept in absolute confidence. The State of Louisiana may have revoked my medical license, but I still consider myself bound to its code of professional ethics.”
These words served only to earn Dr. Hugo Strange a fierce glare from his prospective client.
“Let us make this very clear, Strange…” said Queen Bee, her voice quiet and venomous. “If I believe for a second that you might share my secrets outside this room, I swear I’ll flood your brain with enough pheromones to leave you a drooling vegetable.”
Her death threat only caused the psychiatrist to chuckle lightly.
“Even beyond the ethical considerations, the Light pays me far too much to retain my services to ever risk falling outside your good graces,” he told her. “Plus, it’s not like I can get much work otherwise. Not a whole lot of demand for a prison warden infamous for opening all the doors at his previous facility.”
He leaned forward across the desk separating them. “Though I’ll admit to being curious. Mr. Savage, Mr. Luthor, Mr. Wilson…all have been regular clients. But this is the first time you’ve requested a session, Your Majesty. What changed?”
“Nothing. Everything,” she muttered with a scowl. “Mine is a position that permits no displays of vulnerability. And I have held it for a very long time. It can be…trying.”
“Of course, eminently understandable. It’s a challenge faced by many in power,” said Strange, nodding along. “Would you mind starting from the beginning? Maybe sharing with me how you came into that power in the first place?”
Queen Bee let out a low, agonized groan. “I suppose if I must.”
And with no further preamble, she told a story.
The story was one Hugo Strange had never heard before, and which directly contradicted every textbook and piece of military propaganda in the entirety of Greater Bialya. He was not allowed to take any notes, and he knew instinctively that if he ever breathed a word of it to another soul, “drooling vegetable” was the best fate he could possibly hope for.
It was a story about a young, impoverished girl named Maysaa Massoud. For as long as she could remember, Maysaa’s mother had been absent from her life, and her father a foul-tempered lout. He beat her for seemingly everything – for preparing food that was too hot or too cold, for failing to erase a stain when cleaning his prayer rug, for daring to look at him “ungratefully.”
As an unmarried young woman in an Islamic theocracy, she hadn’t had very much recourse against him. Until one night when she was twelve, and he found out she’d been “making eyes” with the baker’s son.
The fact that it was entirely untrue didn’t prevent him from tearing a leg from a wooden table, and using it to carve long gashes in her back.
She begged and cried and screamed for him to stop, but he was too far gone. Bellowing that the only way to keep her “pure” and “unspoiled” was to mar her body until it could no longer tempt any boy.
In that moment, Maysaa felt something within her snap. And suddenly, her father fell to his hands and knees.
She watched in bewilderment as he begged for her forgiveness, tears streaming down his face. As he proclaimed that the only thing he desired was to shower her with the love and affection she deserved. To make her happy.
Utterly thrown by this total personality reversal, still reeling from his abuse, the bitter words slipped from her lips.
“The only thing that would make me happy is to see you dead on the ground.”
And her father, her very first unknowing thrall, was only too pleased to obey.
When Maysaa picked herself up, hours later, it was from amidst a pool of blood. She had no idea what’d just transpired. No idea what to do next.
But over the next few years, she would learn.
She learned that when she asked in just the right way, most men and even some women would fall over themselves to serve her.
She learned that she could use this strange ability to take whatever she wanted – whether it was money, food, or a warm place to sleep at night.
She learned that with enough time, she could even convince some poor, hapless adult that she was their daughter, and had always been their daughter. Most of whom turned out to be far better parents than her original one.
All of this enabled Maysaa to live on the streets for years, despite her lack of education or practical skills. Bouncing from one home to the next, never staying long enough in one place to arouse suspicion from those small few immune to her power.
But though it was better than the life she’d left behind, after a while it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She needed more.
The power was like an angry insect, buzzing in her ear and demanding ever-sweeter nectar. And so she set her sights on the grandest prize of all.
The Bialyan Royal Palace could be seen from every part of Al-Qawiya, set atop a hill so that its shining light bore down on the dingy streets and narrow alleyways that Maysaa called home. For all her life, it’d been as distant and unknowable as Jannah itself.
Much as the power urged her to act quickly in claiming her rightful place, Maysaa forced herself to be patient. She started out small, taking a position as a lowly palace servant. Her ability made the job interview almost a formality.
But once she had her inroads into the royal family’s inner sanctum, it was only a matter of time. A few switched shifts here and “voluntary” resignations there, and within a few weeks she was their personal attendant, fetching their meals and helping them get dressed.
One by one, she nudged and she prodded. One by one, they came to realize that not only was their loyal and devoted servant like a member of the family, she in fact was their long-lost daughter. How silly of them to have forgotten!
To her pleasant surprise, her new father the king, all five of her brothers, and even her new sister were all willing and eager to buy into the fiction. Only the queen was unaffected, seeing the viperous interloper for what she was.
But that was something the enthrallment of her bodyguard, and a convenient car “accident,” took care of without too much hassle.
Maysaa stopped bothering to be patient after that point. Within a year the rest of her adoptive family were eager pets, climbing over each other to fawn at her blessed feet. They worshipped the ground she walked on, as surely as if she was Allah Himself.
And so it didn’t seem odd at all when she “suggested” passing over her elder siblings in the line of succession. After all, she was clearly the strongest, cleverest, most wonderful member of the family. Who was more worthy of the throne?
Of course, there were some that resisted the proclamation that she would be the next queen regnant – not the least because the notion of a female ruler was nigh-unthinkable to much of the military and civilian leadership. Many called it blasphemous.
But Maysaa soon cleared away those concerns. Those who couldn’t be controlled by her power were convinced to look the other way with a few well-placed bribes. And if they refused even that…
Well, once she had the generals convinced she was their Rightful and Holy Queen, there weren’t a lot of objections that persisted in the face of tank fire.
“And so it was that I shed my original, common name. And was crowned with one that befitted my true glory,” Queen Bee finished, almost an hour later. “In all these years since, I’ve never looked back. Not a single time.”
She gritted her teeth in frustration. “Until now. For some reason, I can’t seem to get that little street urchin girl out of my head. I need you to tell me why that is, doctor. And I need you to fix it.”
Strange, who’d been listening to all this with evident but silent interest, finally said, “I can certainly offer some theories. But beyond prescribing a few anti-anxiety medications, there really isn’t a ‘fix’ for this sort of thing. Mental healthcare is a lifelong journey, My Queen. Unless you wish to consult with your subordinate Psimon?”
“Psimon…thinks too much of me,” she responded, her expression tightening. “He cannot see me in this state. None of my subjects can.”
The “state” in question had become more and more evident as she spun her tale. Sweat coated her normally radiant face, and she’d bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Her knuckles were pale from how much she’d been unconsciously clenching and unclenching her fists.
Strange took a deep breath himself. She wasn’t going to like what he was about to say, and in and of itself that was a very dangerous thing.
But she’d asked for his professional opinion. And so that was what he was going to offer – consequences be what they may.
“Very well. First, it’s beyond evident that bottling all this up has not been psychologically healthy,” he said. “I understand the political reasons why you cannot risk this story falling into the wrong hands, but I still encourage you to seek a confidant you can trust. Perhaps another member of the Light…erm, Klarion excluded, of course.”
“I’ll take that under advisem*nt,” she murmured, in a tone that made it clear she had no intention of doing so whatsoever. “Anything else?”
“Well the key question we were tackling at the beginning was: ‘What changed?’ And I think I have a pretty good guess at this point,” Strange answered. “The catalyst for this introspection is almost certainly Project Kajura.”
Queen Bee sat bolt upright in her seat, a furious look in her eyes. One wrong move and the psychiatrist knew he’d be swimming in meta-enhanced pheromones.
“Now I’ll caution that I don’t know all the details,” he added hastily. “But without divulging any private information from your colleagues, I’ll just say that the topic has…come up, in other sessions. How could it not? The potential impact of this operation on humanity far exceeds any of the Light’s previous plans.”
At this point, despite having never been briefed on Project Kajura directly, he’d heard enough from his sessions with Lex Luthor, Slade Wilson, Ultra-Humanite, Sandra Wu-San, Edward Nigma, and Cassandra Savage to piece together the broad picture.
Anything that weighed that heavily on the consciences of people who so rarely displayed their own had to be serious.
“I do not wade in the murky waters of ‘second thoughts,’ Strange. I never have and I never will,” said Queen Bee. “I have committed vicious, monstrous acts. Crushed my enemies into the sand, and left them to rot. Sometimes, to accomplish great things. Other times…simply because I could.”
She affixed Hugo Strange with a glare as harsh and unyielding as the desert sun. “I have no illusions about what I am. A tyrant. A villain. If Jannah exists, then there is surely no place for me there. I accepted that the day my father blew out his brains at my command.”
“And yet…?” he prompted her.
“And yet it’s undeniably true that something feels…different this time,” she finally admitted. “Until this point, the impact of my actions has been limited to the region immediately surrounding Greater Bialya. Of course, I joined the Light precisely to change that. To spread the glory of my rule to the far corners of the globe.”
“But now you stand on the precipice of rewriting the destinies of the entire human race,” the psychiatrist finished for her, fighting to hold back a grin. “Even for royalty, that’s a heavy burden to bear.”
As unwise as it would be to let it show on his face, Hugo Strange couldn’t deny the part of him that was watching one of the most ruthless supervillains on the planet bear her soul…
And salivating, like a dog chomping on a bone.
“I am not Savage. I have forty years, not fifty thousand, with which to place such things in perspective,” she said. “I know what we are planning is right. I know it will bring me what I deserve, at long last. What we all deserve.”
Here, he couldn’t help but needle a bit further. “For someone so certain, you seem to be engaging in quite a lot of self-justification. You know, I must say that…”
But his voice fell away as vicelike fingers seized around his throat.
“If you’d like to keep your head, I suggest you not finish that sentence,” she whispered, her voice like ice.
Queen Bee held him like that for several more seconds, watching with cold detachment as the psychiatrist’s face turned purple. Until finally she dropped him in a heap, gasping and coughing on the floor.
“This was a mistake. I knew it from the start,” she said, shaking her head in dismay as she turned away from the wheezing doctor. “I suggest you forget everything you heard today, Strange. You know what will happen otherwise.”
She didn’t bother to look back as she exited the office with a swish of her cloak. Didn’t see Hugo Strange’s face as he held himself up by his hands and knees, still breathing heavily.
Otherwise, she might’ve questioned the grin of manic glee spread across it.
“Alright…perhaps I pushed my luck a bit too much there,” he chuckled to himself. “But how fortunate am I, otherwise? I’m witnessing the end of the world, in real time. And the poor, broken souls who’ll lead it to ruin.”
Without his smile ever wavering, the psychiatrist stood up straight, smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit, and then pressed the intercom button on his desk.
“Harleen? Send in my next client.”
[--------------------]
Markovburg
May 30, 09:39 EEST
Harper Row had an enduring fascination with bad horror films – the shlockier, the better. So Violet had watched more of them over the last several months than they cared to count. Absolute cinematic disasters with groanworthy names like It Came from Beneath Themyscira and Murder Party on M’arzz.
The awakening of Baazovi’s “Doomsday” project made all of them look like an episode of Pretty Pretty Pony.
He was violently tearing his way out of his containment pod, heeding no mind to collateral damage as arms as thick as tree trunks smashed and grabbed at everything in sight. The crystal-like growths on his skin pulsed with each movement, radiating enough heat to leave the room sweltering.
Violet wished they could say he was unrecognizable as Brion, but the truth of the matter was that they could see the ghost of their ex-boyfriend’s face across the creature’s twisted maw – specifically, the way he’d looked as he brutally murdered his uncle.
It was as if that single, horrifying moment had been brought to life, and made unending.
“I’m so proud mein mittleres Kind finally gets to stretch his legs!” exclaimed Helga Jace. “Though just to be on the safe side, I think I’ll be taking his brothers elsewhere. So if you’ll excuse…”
But her path was cut off as a force bubble surrounded both her and the pods containing the other two Brions, Halo’s eyes burning bright with their red aura.
“You’re not going anywhere, Doctor,” they said sharply. “We came here to save Brion, and we’re not leaving without him. All three of him.”
“I think you’ll find that easier said than done, Miss Harper,” replied Baazovi, his smug little grin telling them the misgendering was entirely intentional. “I very much doubt our little friend here wants to leave with you. Or wants anything at all, really. He’s more of a ‘doer,’ you know?”
That was all he chose to say out loud, but Violet could guess from the way he placed his pointer finger to his temple that he was adding something telepathically.
And whatever it was, it had the misshapen clone howling in berserk rage.
For such a large creature, he moved like lightning. Fury only had just enough time to take a defensive stance before he plowed a spiky fist into her abdomen, causing her to keel over and cough blood.
Terra splayed out her hands, pulled rough stone from the walls to use as shields. But he tore through those like they were construction paper, massive arms swinging hard enough to nearly knock her off her feet from wind pressure alone.
Loath as they were to fire upon the poor thing, Halo saw little choice but to switch to their yellow aura and hit him with a full-force energy blast. Only to gasp at what happened next.
The crystals all along the clone’s body surged the same color as their aura, absorbing every ounce of the yellow energy – before releasing an equal amount of sweltering, overwhelming heat.
“Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Another fun side effect of my boy’s…unique meta-gene!” said Helga, though the heroes could hardly see her, Baazovi, or the other Brions through the smoke and debris their battle had kicked up. “I can’t wait to see what ‘hidden talents’ his younger brother may prove to have…”
“We can’t let them get away!” exclaimed Terra as she tossed one piece of debris after another at the clone’s head; for all the good it did, she might as well have been throwing confetti. “Not with Brion!”
“Don’t…urrgh…think he’s keen on giving us a whole lotta choice…” Fury sputtered out, still not recovered from the last blow.
Indeed, it quickly became clear that Baazovi’s telepathic command must’ve been something along the lines of: Wreak as much havoc as it takes for us to escape.
Their foe was relentless in his pursuit, punching and slashing with enough force to send a Kryptonian flying, and yet he never seemed to go for the killing blow. He just kept forcing them back, farther and farther from his masters.
And Halo was finding themself helpless to stop him. Every offensive or defensive aura they emitted – red shields, yellow beams, green projections, blue light – only served as another flavor of fuel for the beast, absorbed into his crystals and increasing the air temperature by another dozen degrees. Now he was hot enough that the priceless banners and flags that lined the halls lit aflame as he passed.
“We need to do something drastic. Or the entire palace will be an inferno,” said Tara, biting her lip. “If you trust me, then grab onto me now.”
Violet immediately took hold of their teammate’s arm. Rosa hesitated for a few seconds, but ultimately did the same.
Terra took a deep breath, summoning all of her strength as the clone stalked closer, until the heat was intense enough that they felt their skin about to melt off.
Then with a guttural scream, she threw down her arms, and collapsed the ground underneath them.
[--------------------]
Seattle
May 29, 20:40 PDT
Strictly speaking, visiting hours at Seattle Medical Center had ended almost two hours ago. And visitors certainly weren’t supposed to be staying overnight.
But no one, from security to the nurses to the hospital administrator, was willing to kick Aquaman out of his fiancé’s room. And so there he’d remained for the past fortnight, keeping Wyynde company as he recovered.
(Usually, he was loathe to use his position as a leader of the Justice League in such a way. But even the most ironclad principle had some exceptions.)
Wyynde was keeping up good spirits, but Kaldur could tell that a great deal of it was feigned. Though he professed to be at peace with his loss of magic, there was a hint of…emptiness in his tone. In the way he stared distantly out the window when he didn’t think Kaldur was looking.
In the way he couldn’t stop rubbing his hands along the invisible lines of his sorcery tattoos, knowing he would likely never see them shine again.
Kaldur had witnessed – had experienced – enough trauma over the years to recognize the signs. Wyynde was progressing wonderfully in terms of his physical health. But as for his mental…
He let out a long sigh as he fished Black Canary’s business card out of his pocket. Dinah and Wyynde had fought alongside each other once or twice, but weren’t personally familiar. Which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how you looked at it.
Would it be presumptuous to make the suggestion? He didn’t want it to seem as if he didn’t trust Wyynde, or was making decisions on his behalf.
But he’d also seen the consequences of allowing these types of feelings to fester for too long.
Either way, he felt a burning desire to return to his partner’s side. The only reason he’d taken a temporary detour outside the hospital was that Wyynde insisted he get something to eat. An errand that Kaldur had conducted, as always, with cool and expeditious efficiency.
Surface sushi had nothing on the Atlantean equivalent, but at least he’d polished it off swiftly and could get back to…
His train of thought was interrupted by a muscular arm pulling him into the hospital’s parking garage.
Kaldur’s water-bearers were drawn and formed into twin swords before he took his next breath. And they stayed that way once he saw the face of his would-be abductor.
“Father,” he said coldly. “Does Waller know you’re off your leash?”
[--------------------]
Greater Bialya
May 30, 09:41 UTC+3
Beast Boy – still in ma’alefa’ak form – stared agape at what he’d just witnessed, prehensile tongue lolling below his chin.
Psimon had been one of their most steadfast and persistent foes for a decade, and his “stats” were well-known to the Team and Outsiders alike. As a psychic, he was one of the planet’s foremost powerhouses, but in physical combat…
Well, his peers there were more in the weight class of Toyman or Anthony Ivo.
Yet he’d just withstood an assault from the deadliest creature on Mars, and looked about as bothered as if Beast Boy had taken the form of a fruit fly.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” Gar demanded through his voice box, struggling to return to his feet. Not only had he failed to budge Psimon by even an inch, but the psychic’s counterattack had hit him like a truck.
“You know, darling, I’ve always been a ‘brains over brawn’ sort of person,” said Psimon in a carrying voice, ignoring the hero completely. “But now I can really see the appeal.”
He picked up a rock from the ground and, with a single flex of his fingers, crushed it to dust.
Devastation smiled approvingly. “You and me both, honey,” she replied. “Now that your body can take it, there’s a few things I’m itching to try next time we’re…alone.”
(Stargirl’s “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeew!” was loud enough to be heard clear across the battlefield.)
“I’m glad everything seems to have worked out so well, my dear Psimon. But business before pleasure,” Queen Bee spoke coolly. “This party still has far too many uninvited guests.”
“Then allow us to trim the list, Ma Reina,” said Metallo, stepping forward and cracking his knuckles hard enough to echo off the metal endoskeleton underneath. “Feel free to follow along, Psimon. Happy to show you how it’s done.”
Psimon briefly flashed his teammate a dirty look, as if he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to. But it disappeared a moment later, as he joined Metallo, Devastation, Felix Faust, and Atomic Skull in rearing upon the green-skinned ma’alefa’ak.
“Just make sure not to damage ‘im trop à fond, mes amis,” Brain called out from behind the others, the liquid in his dome bubbling menacingly. “Un spécimen vivant would be idéal. I’m quite avide to see zee effects of ‘is shapeshifting on le cerveau up close. Et apres tout…it’s one of only trois I’m missing from ma collection…”
But before Onslaught could take another step to act on these orders, a flash of red passed between them, crashing into the stone slabs of the magic circle with enough force to topple half.
“Stay. Away. From. My. Brother,” hissed Miss Martian, her eyes glowing a furious green.
Gar looked on with astonishment as the red blur turned out to be Red Volcano, now ripped into a dozen pieces and non-functional.
Behind her, the rest of Alpha Squad stood (or in Phantasm’s case, floated) at the ready. Mammoth, Shimmer, Holocaust, and Monsieur Mallah were strewn out behind them, each out cold.
“Mallah! You will pay for zis, enfants irritants!” Brain bellowed, sounding more emotional than they’d ever heard from him. “Onslaught, ‘old zem off! I will begin ze repairs on Le Volcan Rouge!”
“Nah boludo, I don’t think you will,” said El Dorado, as he appeared in a flash next to the disabled android. Another flash and they were both teleported to a nearby rock formation, where his boyfriend quickly got to work disassembling Red Volcano at super-speed.
Felix Faust wasn’t the only villain to be staring slack-jawed at these developments, but he was the first to recover, leaning toward Queen Bee.
“Forgive me for speaking out of turn. But it seems the calculus has changed somewhat,” he told her quietly. “Perhaps it would be judicious to consider a…strategic withdrawal…?”
But she just waved the alchemist away like a bothersome gnat.
“The children have already seen, and heard, far too much,” she said with a scowl. “Savage will have my head if the details leak early. Right now, we’re firmly in damage control. I will not be the next member of the Light to lose her chair in disgrace.”
Brain’s mechanical body shifted slightly, as if fidgeting, though he said nothing.
“Onslaught. And…associates,” the queen went on, now pumping so many pheromones into the air that – even though they couldn’t enthrall him in this form – they had Gar’s three noses practically gagging. “You are outnumbered, and outmatched. But I will not accept that as an excuse. Fight for your Queen, to your dying breath if need be!”
“Anything you desire, My Queen,” spoke Psimon, Metallo, Devastation, and Felix Faust at once.
With miserable groans, Mammoth, Shimmer, and Holocaust all muttered the same as they struggled to their feet – the pull of her control strong enough to rouse them from unconsciousness.
Atomic Skull alone was unaffected, though he shrugged his shoulders and readied atomic energy in his fists nonetheless.
“If that is the will of the Half-Life,” he rumbled.
“Not a single one of these brats may be allowed to leave with their lives, or their memories, intact,” said Queen Bee, stepping back to allow her thralls free reign. “Your Queen isn’t especially picky which.”
[--------------------]
Markovburg
May 30, 09:43 EEST
Tigress was, at present, deeply regretting how thinly she’d spread Beta Squad.
Facing the Infinitors’ heaviest hitters would’ve been a challenge even with a full contingent, but right now Static was the only hero at her side with powers useful for offense. Looker, like all Outsiders, was trained in basic self-defense – but that still left her thoroughly outgunned when compared to a speedster, a shapeshifter, and a photokinetic.
And she had her own hands (and bow) full dealing with Kobold and Lizard Johnny. Both had clearly received “enhancements” since leaving Taos, with the former now able to selectively shrink or grow individual body parts for a more versatile fighting style, and the latter’s “blood spurt” ability now corrosive enough to melt metal.
“You kids aren’t in your right mind!” she exclaimed as she parried a strike from two overlarge fists. “The longer you stay here, the more Baazovi gets his claws into your heads!”
“The Ambassador warned us you’d try to trick us,” said Johnny, his voice coming out an angry hiss. “You just want us back as your lab rats. Where you can force us to fight supervillains, and throw on collars if we say no!”
He followed up his venomous words with his very literally venom-coated tongue, which Artemis only managed to dodge by a hair.
“Joining the Team or the Outsiders was always optional! And so were the Inhibitor Collars!” she tried to argue back. “We wanted to help you find good, peaceful lives. Wherever that might’ve been!”
Kobold, who’d always been withdrawn and taciturn by nature, suddenly turned furious.
“Oh yeah? Where was that ‘peaceful life’ when I took a walk three blocks from the Center, and got beaten half to death by metaphobic thugs?” he demanded. “Look, I’m grateful to you ‘heroes’ for saving me from that hellhole in space. But Taos was a lie. A tiny island in an ocean of hate.”
“Here, we ain’t jus’ accepted. We the apex predator, man,” added Jet as she passed, using one light construct after another to neutralize Static’s lightning. “King Brion’s made a country by metas, fo’ metas. Normie like you would’na undahstand.”
Looker let out a scream as Trajectory zipped between them, slamming her into a wall at super-speed.
“So either get on board…” she said, crossing her arms smugly. “Or get out of the way.”
Artemis couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt to hear those words thrown back at her. She hadn’t spent nearly as much time at the Youth Center as some of her teammates, but she’d visited from time to time. Played video games with Johnny, sparred with Celia, bonded with Donald over their shared love of queer lit.
Baazovi was inflaming their darker thoughts and insecurities until it was all they felt. Twisting understandable resentments against a world that feared and ostracized metahumans into a desire for meta supremacy.
She resolved, now more than ever before, to nail the ambassador with a boxing-glove arrow next time she saw him.
Artemis was so distracted by that fleeting fantasy that she only barely managed to dodge a swing from Everyman, who’d turned into a massive ogre-like creature.
“Impressive. But a bigger bod just means a bigger shock to your system!” cried out Static, maneuvering around Jet so he could better defend the prone Looker. He punctuated the words with a massive burst of electricity.
…Which Everyman proceeded to tank without flinching.
“Pheh…tickles,” he said with a gravelly chuckle. “Might wanna work on a better catchphrase, buddy.”
The shapeshifter stalked forward, his body growing extra arms and octopus-like tentacles in every direction. And the whole time, he continued to grow even larger.
“Proud to say I’m Auntie Helga’s favorite,” he bellowed. “Says my meta-gene is super…mallable or whatever. So she just keeps the upgrades comin’. Soon, I’ll be the most powerful meta in the world! Nothing can stop me!”
But in all the training he’d gotten from Brion or genetic enhancements from Jace, it seemed no one had ever taught Hannibal Bates not to tempt fate.
Because that was the moment the ceiling above them collapsed completely, and an even larger meta-creature flattened him like a pancake.
[--------------------]
Seattle
May 29, 20:45 PDT
Despite working alongside him for over a year, this was one of the first times Kaldur had seen Black Manta outside his trademark armor. The villain looked distinctly out of place in a black hoodie and sunglasses.
“f*ck Waller,” he said at last, gritting his teeth and looking askance. “If she wants to blow my head off for this, so be it. It’s not like my life’s worth much right now.”
“Why are you here?” Kaldur asked, keeping his questions clipped and professional. It was all he trusted himself to do right now.
Manta stood still for a few moments, his eyes locked on the tips of Kaldur’s summoned weapons, which were pointed mere inches from his face.
“I…” he frowned, his tone equally neutral. “I wanted you to know, Kaldur’ahm, that what happened the other day was…unintended.”
Kaldur could do little but gape as his biological father continued, “I have come to understand how much that Atlantean boy…means to you. I would’ve stopped Lawton had I known. Despite the distance you insist on placing between us…”
“The distance I have placed?” he could no longer keep from interjecting. “It was not my choice to abandon Sha’lain’a while she was still pregnant. To spend my childhood years gallivanting about as a supervillain. To only acknowledge me as a son when you needed a trusted lieutenant to bolster your worth to the Light.”
“I loved your mother, once. And I have always loved you,” said Manta, a low growl underlining his voice. “If you’re operating under the delusion these were easy decisions, then you’re sadly mistaken. Overthrowing Orin took priority over everything else. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – be held back. Not even for your sake.”
“If telling yourself that assuages your long-suppressed conscience, then by all means,” Kaldur let out a sigh. “Regardless, I do not accept what you try to pass off as an apology. Our paths diverged long ago, when you chose hatred, vengeance, and powerlust over your nobler qualities. I am no longer interested in you holding a role in my life.”
For a moment, it looked like Black Manta was going to strike him. Kaldur almost wished he’d try. A physical battle would be much simpler than this bout of words.
But eventually, the mercenary’s face softened, just slightly. “I…have made a great number of mistakes in my life. I think we can both agree on at least that much,” he said. “A lifetime fighting for freedom, and I find myself a slave to the U.S. government nonetheless. I can’t decide if it makes it better or worse that a Black woman holds the whip.”
He shook his head slowly and let out a ragged sigh, before turning to face his son directly. There was a look in his cold, gray eyes that Kaldur had never seen before.
“You have no idea how it feels to be shackled to that Suicide Squad,” he went on through gritted teeth. “Every mission I successfully complete takes one year off my sentence. Do you have any idea just how long my sentence is?”
Of course he did. He’d attended the hearing personally, though he could only bring himself to sit silently in the back. “Two hundred and sixteen years.”
“I’ve got forty-seven under my belt now. Less than half of which Waller considers ‘successes.’ Debacles like what happened in Poseidonis don’t count in her book,” Manta explained derisively. “Let’s face facts, Kaldur’ahm: you gave Task Force X its nickname for a reason. We aren’t expected to survive to the point where those bastards would actually have to deliver on their promises. The only future I have waiting for me is an unmarked grave at Belle Reve.”
“Where are you going with this, father?” Kaldur forced himself to ask. The objective injustice of what the villain was describing was almost – almost – enough to make one forget the sheer depth of his own crimes.
There was a long pause.
“…I have to ask you for a favor,” said Black Manta, his voice low and cold. “The very last thing I will ever ask from you, as my one and only son.”
Then, he did something the second Aquaman would’ve never expected to see in a million years.
He sank to his knees at Kaldur’s feet, baring the back of his neck – where an X-shaped mark in the dark skin indicated where Waller’s “insurance policy” of explosive nanites had been injected.
“I want you to kill me.”
[--------------------]
Greater Bialya
May 30, 09:46 UTC+3
Fighting enthralled supervillains was always a bit of a mixed bag.
On the one hand, Queen Bee’s abilities had an inhibiting effect on the target’s higher brain functions – roughly equivalent to downing several pitchers of alcohol. Thralls were typically incapable of long-term thinking or deep strategizing, having ceded all such thoughts to their monarch.
On the other hand, moments like this were where Queen Bee proved her moniker was more than a cutesy pun. The thralls moved as one unit, a swarm of insects clustering around their leader. No gaps, no mistakes.
“You know how the saying goes,” she said, now waving her arms like a conductor leading an orchestra. “If you want something done right…!”
The enthralled Onslaught followed her movements in perfect synchronicity, filling the air with plumes of fire and psychic energy and Kryptonite radiation. Some of them were less effective combatants than others in this state – particularly Faust, who seemed incapable of more than basic spellcasting with his mind so impeded – but it was still enough to give the gathered heroes pause.
But only just enough. Because the alliance of Team and Outsider members also had an experienced general leading them.
Beast Boy, Forager, Maneuver Seven!
Gar followed his blood-sister’s psychic order by transforming into an elephant, and launching a rolling Forager high into the air. He collided with full force into Metallo, who was launched away from the rest of Onslaught – allowing El Dorado to catch him in midair and teleport back to his boyfriend.
A second later, and Kid Flash had repeated the same disassembly process as with Red Volcano. This time, though, it was by removing the majority of Juan’s Kryptonite heart from his chest cavity, leaving only a small sliver behind.
“That should be enough to keep your life support from crashing. But easy on the beam-blasts, okay?” he said to the furious cyborg.
“¡Que te jodan, hijo de puta!” roared Metallo, forcing a ray of green energy from his body. But with so little Kryptonite left to power it, the beam dissipated after less than a second, leaving him spent.
“Wow. You kiss your sisters with that mouth?” asked a smirking Ed, before teleporting back to the battlefield.
Meanwhile, Windfall had managed to catch most of their enemies in a towering cyclone. She opened strategic holes in the funnel every so often, allowing Wonder Girl, Forager, and a panther-form Beast Boy to strike with hit-and-run tactics before disappearing just as quickly.
Nice job, Wendy! Your control has really improved.
“Thanks, Double-M!” she exclaimed back, increasing the wind pressure with ease to keep Devastation and Mammoth from punching their way out. “All that trainin’ with Tornado’s really payin’ o…AAAAARGH!”
She was abruptly cut off by the force of a focused brain-blast, Psimon seething with rage as he approached.
“Enough of this foolishness!” he and Queen Bee both shouted in unison, one psychic’s power being channeled and amplified by the other. “All of you will bow before your rightful Queen! All of you will…!”
But then it was their turn to scream in pain, as the Kaizer-Thrall’s fractal beams locked onto the pair and froze them in a state of dimensional flux.
“Gosh golly, I hate doin’ this!” said Phantasm. “But at leas’ it should buy us a bit o’ time!”
And a bit of time is all we need.
For Onslaught was now bearing witness to the other major pitfall of being enthralled to a single mind. With that mind momentarily silenced, the villains went completely still – puppets with their strings cut.
Leaving them completely vulnerable to a series of overwhelming blows from Alpha Squad’s heaviest hitters.
One by one, each supervillain was felled into an unconscious heap – Devastation, Mammoth, Shimmer, Holocaust, and finally Faust. Until only Atomic Skull remained standing, singularly unaffected by Queen Bee’s pheromones.
Albert Michaels looked slowly across the slumped bodies of his comrades, and then to the ten young heroes surrounding him. And ultimately, raised both hands above his head.
“As my last employer once said,” he bellowed coldly. “There will be another day.”
Still, it was too early to celebrate. “Ah crap,” said Stargirl as she ran up to join the others. “Anyone see where Brain and Mallah went? I can’t find ‘em anywhere.”
“Must’ve slipped away in all the chaos. I can’t sense their minds either…and Brain has a lot of mind to sense,” Miss Martian replied. “Unfortunate, but we’ll have to circle back to them later. Need to deal with these first.”
She nodded to Queen Bee and Psimon, still trapped by Phantasm’s fractal beams.
[--------------------]
Markovburg
May 30, 09:47 EEST
Mist stumbled through the halls of the Markovian palace, panting heavily as she fought to outrace the trails of lightning nipping at her heels.
“Les! Les!” she shouted desperately. “Les, you need to stop! You need to fight this!”
“I’m trying, okay!” said her girlfriend, so consumed by the electricity that Andie could only see her eyes as two pinpricks amidst the storm. “Tetch’s new bots, they’re…ARGH! I can’t…can’t hear myself think…just the commands, over and over and f*cking over…!”
She’d lost track of Traci and Jaime in the chaos, but the cracks appearing in the walls around them told her the other couple must be going through the same thing. Under the Mad Hatter’s control, Thirteen’s urban magic was even more dangerous than Livewire’s lightning.
Andie needed to put an end to this, before the out-of-control witch brought the whole palace down. But of course, that was easier said than done.
Simply being near Jervis Tetch again had her swimming through memories with every step – the worst memories of her life. Panicking, disassociating, hyperventilating.
Needing. Needing the blade.
And usually, it was Les who pulled her out of that mud. Les who held her close, Les who guided her through her grounding exercises. Les who made her feel safe.
Now it was Les who needed her. Damn…what a joke. The strongest, bravest person she knew, needing to be rescued by a miserable, useless, mousey coward…
“A…Andie…!” gasped Leslie between lightning strikes, every word sounding like it was taking all the strength she had simply to force from her throat. “You can do this…my little cloudy girl…”
Those words cut through the jumbled-up mess of Andie’s thoughts better than any razorblade. Because she was right. This was no time for her self-pitying bullsh*t.
Maybe it wasn’t ideal. But the only chance Leslie and Traci had right now was Andrea Murphy stepping up to the plate. So she’d just have to do what her girlfriend did every day.
f*cking deal with it.
Taking in as deep a breath as she could, Andie exploded into a great ball of gas, willing herself to take up every square inch of the hallway.
Ever since joining the Team, she’d been practicing with Miss Martian almost daily – density-shifting being not quite the same thing, but close enough to get the job done. Now she was able to exert minute control of almost every attribute of her fog-self, from thickness to humidity to color.
And, as she and Leslie had discovered during some very interesting “private training”…
That included conductivity.
Andie enveloped her girlfriend from every direction, trapping her entire body in a prison of highly dense mist. Unable to penetrate her barrier, the arcs of lightning dissipated to nothing.
Unfortunately, oxygen also couldn’t pass through her in this state, so she needed to be careful. She increased the thickness of her fog around Leslie’s mouth and nose, trying to time things just long enough to force the older girl to faint.
The instant Leslie’s eyes closed and her body went limp, Andie reconstituted her solid form and caught her girlfriend in her arms, guiding her gently to the ground.
“Dios mío, please be okay, Les,” she whispered, crossing herself over her heart. “Hopefully by the time you wake up, one of the League’s techies will’ve scrubbed your body of those damn bots.”
“That makes two of us, ésa.”
Mist turned her head just in time to watch Blue Beetle fly by, an unconscious Thirteen cradled in his metallic arms. He lowered her next to Livewire, before propping them both up against the nearest wall.
“Haven’t had her go that hard against me since I forgot to buy her a ticket to El Paso Comic Con,” said Jaime with a sigh. “Which, to be fair, was a bonehead move. But even Zee agreed turning me into a newt was overkill!”
There was a pause, then, “Scarab, the punchline of that story was ‘I got better.’ Not ‘Disintegrating my girlfriend down to the subatomic level would’ve been an appropriate and acceptable form of retaliation, per the galactic codes of war.’ We really gotta get you better taste in movies.”
Andie resisted the completely-inappropriate urge to giggle, instead asking, “So what do we do now? We can’t just leave them here. And if we take them with us, they might still wake up under Tetch’s control.”
But Jaime was already fishing for something in his girlfriend’s fanny pack. It was a small clay disc, emblazoned with the symbol of an ankh.
“Artemis said this was our ticket for paging the doctor on-call,” he said, transforming his hands into pincer-like claws and grasping the disc on either end. “Just gotta hope he’s in more of Khalid mood than a Nabu mood when he shows up.”
And with that, he cracked the talisman in two.
The effect was immediate. A much larger ankh materialized in the middle of the hallway, and Doctor Fate hovered through the portal a moment later, his arms crossed imperiously. He wasn’t alone, however.
“Markovia. Haven’t been here in…oh, four or five hundred years. It was still called Aporovia back then,” spoke Jason Blood, sniffing the air as he stepped through the portal and immediately covering his nose. “You owe me a great deal for bringing me along, Nabu.”
“You and I both know you have no intention of leaving Fate’s side at this time,” Doctor Fate replied impatiently. “These disruptions in the Cosmic Balance concern us all.”
He then turned on Andie and Jaime, his cape flapping imperiously despite the fact that they were still indoors. Behind his Helm, Khalid’s eyes narrowed to slits as he looked upon their unconscious girlfriends.
“What has happened to Traci Thurston? We cannot tolerate damage to any of our hosts,” he added.
Unsure whether he was asking out of purely mercenary interest or some level of genuine concern, Andie quickly explained, “Mind-controlling nanobots, from the Mad Hatter. Can you purge them somehow, with magic?”
It was Jason who answered first. “Mixing science and sorcery is always an…inexact art. But I have an artifact in my Sanctum that might do the trick. If it could counter a curse from Morgaine le Fey, a mortal bewitcher should be no different.”
“In exchange, however…” said Doctor Fate, before they could get too excited. “Fate will require your services for a time. You as well, young Harper.”
Arsenal stepped out from behind a corner, his arm-cannon at the ready. “So much for being sneaky. Tigress sent me to check on you guys after your psyches left Looker on read. Guess I can see why.”
“Eh, no offense, Doctor…” Jaime piped up. “But we’re, uh…kinda in the middle of our own mission right now? And are we really the best guys to be tapping for some mystic-mojo stuff? I mean, Traci I get, but…”
“Time is of the essence. We must make do with the pieces that are available,” Fate declared sharply. “And your so-called ‘mission’ pales in comparison to the matter we have been investigating.”
Jason Blood threw up his hands in apparent apology for his partner’s rudeness, before dropping six words that would’ve sent chills down the spine of any sorcerer on planet Earth.
“The Throne of Eternity is empty.”
[--------------------]
Markovburg
May 30, 09:48 EEST
Halo was suddenly very grateful to Tigress for forcing them to train up the limits and duration of their force fields.
The landing was far from graceful, but they still managed to encapsulate Terra, Fury, and themself in a red-aura bubble, shielding them from the worst of the cascading debris as they tumbled down multiple floors.
The “Doomsday” clone wasn’t so fortunate. He roared fiercely and thrashed his limbs, still trying to grab for them even in freefall. Until, with a tremendous crunching sound, he hit the ground.
It took Violet a few seconds, and Tara quickly clearing away the dust-cloud with her powers, to realize they’d landed in the middle of an entirely different battle.
“Jesus, Mary, an’ Joseph!” they heard Looker exclaim. The psychic was leaning on Static’s shoulder, clutching at her head. “Where the f*ck di’ye all come from? An’ what’s that ugly sod?”
“And more to the point…” said Terra, wincing at the massive debris pile that now took up most of the Markovian throne room. “Did he just…land on someone?”
“I’m…okaaaaaaaay…” a gruff voice groaned weakly. A moment later, a co*ckroach emerged from the rubble and transformed into a muscular man with a shaved head, before immediately collapsing.
“Sleep it off, Hannibal,” Trajectory scoffed, stepping over her teammate and gazing approvingly at the creature who’d landed on top of him. The clone was taking a little longer to recover, sloughing off mounds of debris from the palace walls and ceilings, but his crystals were already radiating enough heat to partially melt it.
Several of the other Infinitors, however, looked appropriately horrified.
“I’m with the redhead,” Lizard Johnny hissed, his eyes wide with fright. “Is that…did Jace make that thing?”
“Right, you’re new. You weren’t in the briefing,” said Trajectory dismissively. “All you guys need to know is he’s on our side. And he’s brought us one helluva prize pack. The princess…the ex…and the traitor.”
She glared daggers at Fury, who simply crossed her arms.
“I’m not here to hash this out with you, Eliza,” she replied. “Just to save King Brion. If you want to stand in my way, be my guest. But I’m done playing around.”
“If I may interrupt for a moment.”
Violet’s attention immediately perked up as the simpering voice of Zviad Baazovi blasted through the room. It sounded like it was being transmitted through some kind of loudspeaker, rather than psychically.
“If you’re hearing this, you should know that Helga, Jervis, and I are already on our way out of the country. Along with our…matched set. You can try to follow, but I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Hey boss!” Trajectory called out. “Sorry this is taking so long, but we’ll have these maggots mopped up soon. Give you plenty of time to get away. Thanks for sending the big guy, by the way!”
“Yes, well. About that…”
Something about the way he spoke those words sent a chill up Violet’s spine, even more than usual.
“Eliza, Hannibal, Donald, Celia, Johnny. I truly appreciate all of your loyalty and support. You have each given much in service of crown and country. So did you, Rosa…before you so tragically lost your way.”
“What’re ya gettin’ at, man?” Celia demanded, not even noticing as Tigress snuck behind her in the confusion, joining up with the rest of her squad.
“Well, it occurred to me on the way out that every single person with personal knowledge of Brion Markov for the past year happens to be in this same room. And…well. What kind of politician would I be, to let such a golden opportunity slip by?”
“You will all be missed, of course. Our next king will conduct a grand state funeral in your honor. But fortunately, there are dozens of promising Infinity Cadets ready to replace you.”
“You backstabbing son of a bitch!” Kobold shouted out. “You think it’ll be that easy to snuff us out?!”
“When your former princess just so helpfully dropped the deadliest weapon in the world into your midst? Yes, I think so.”
The “Doomsday” creature punctuated the point by emerging fully from the debris pile, roaring in fury. Violet had little doubt the ambassador had just transmitted him another psychic order.
“And just to make absolutely certain…Jervis, do you have anything to add?”
There was a staticky shuffling sound, as if a microphone was being passed around, before a voice Halo recognized as belonging to supervillain the Mad Hatter blared through the room.
“Just one, my proverbial March Hare. Ahem…Half-past one, time for dinner.”
Rosa suddenly sank to the ground, Tara only barely managing to catch her in time. And she wasn’t the only one.
“I feel…so weak…” Celia whispered, her eyes fluttering.
“What’d he do to us?” said Johnny, who was down on his knees, clutching at his head and groaning.
“I think…” answered Eliza, who was clearly trying and failing to get a running start. “I think that bastard just turned off our powers.”
“Guessing either a post-hypnotic suggestion, like Shadow programming…or else something Jace put into the mix when she ‘upgraded’ all of you,” spoke Tigress as she looked over Fury. “Either way, this isn’t good. Halo, we need to Boom-Tube everyone out of here before that thing goes on another rampage!”
Violet nodded, moving to activate their indigo aura. But before they could, a heavy, discordant tone rang through the throne room, pounding into their head like a jackhammer.
“Oh, there’s one more guest I need to introduce you to. Or have you still not figured out how I’m transmitting this in the first place?”
Terra gritted her teeth as she caught Halo before they could fall as well, guessing from her symptoms, “Father Box?”
But Halo slowly shook their head. A single Father Box, no matter how malicious, wouldn’t be affecting them this badly.
The mystery didn’t last long. The misshapen clone was on his feet again, flailing violently. One of his massive swings struck at the king’s throne, shattering it to pieces.
And revealing a latticed matrix of no less than sixteen Father Boxes.
“Grid, I trust you can take it from here. Ardievas, children.”
[--------------------]
Seattle
May 29, 20:51 PDT
Kaldur wasn’t sure what he expected to hear from his biological father, but it definitely hadn’t been that.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” he demanded. “How…How could you even consider asking such a thing?”
“I told you, I’m going to die one way or another,” said Black Manta, without looking up from his kneeling position. “At least this way, I die free. And at the hands of someone who deserves justice.”
The superhero’s mouth became a thin line.
“Ah. Now I understand,” he muttered coldly. “You believe that if I commit the deed, it shall make up for some of the harm you have caused over the years. To me…to Atlantis…to the world. Do you truly think redemption to be that simple, father?”
“I’m on a Suicide Squad, not a Redemption Squad. I don’t give two sh*ts about that empty word,” Manta snapped back. “Kaldur’ahm, you know I believe in God. I believe in Hell. And I’m pretty damn sure I’m going there when I die. So I’m just trying to…settle the books, best I can. Before it comes to that.”
Kaldur’s eyes narrowed further. “Then you will have to wait for another bookkeeper. I can see why, in your current predicament, you would find quick execution to be a mercy. But I will not stain myself with blood in such a way. Not even for you.”
“A few hundred Kroloteans might say different. If they could.”
Black Manta was smiling now, a taunting lilt in his voice.
“Is that truly your last resort? Poke and prod at my vulnerabilities, until I cut you down in a fit of rage?” said Kaldur. “I regret…so many of the things I did at your side. They are crosses I shall bear to my own dying day. But your pathetic attempt to exploit my guilt as a weapon does not change that. I have grown beyond you, father.”
The smile fell away as quickly as it appeared, replaced by an expression twisted in naked fury.
“So that’s it, then?” Manta growled. “You want me to return to Waller? Keep putting my neck on the line for Uncle Sam’s dirty work, until my luck inevitably runs out? You expect me to just…GAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”
The mercenary fell back to his knees, gripping the back of his neck tightly between his palms.
“Implant…doesn’t just explode…” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Can also give you…worst pain of your life. Guess that old bitch…figured out…I went AWOL…”
Kaldur looked down at the man who’d once fancied himself one-seventh of the rulers of humanity, whimpering in agony. There were a number of things swimming in his cool blue eyes, but chief among them was pity.
“I do intend to see that Waller, and her bureaucratic abettors, are brought to task for their own crimes,” he said. “Not for your sake. But for the sake of all she has unjustly subject to this cruelty.”
Black Manta let out a long sigh, letting his hands fall limply to his sides as he rose shakily to his feet. It seemed the pain from the nanites had subsided, for the moment.
“I suppose it’s the best I have left to hope for,” he eventually replied. “Well, if I know her non-existent sense of humor like I think I do, she’ll send Croc to do the pickup. So I’d best not dawdle any further.”
Kaldur flinched involuntarily as the supervillain leaned forward, but it was merely to grasp his fingers in a quick handshake.
“Until the next time we meet, my son,” Manta spoke quietly. “Likely on opposite sides of a battlefield.”
Kaldur’ahm stood there for several moments, watching as Atlantis’ greatest enemy disappeared into the night. All the while keeping his hands closed tightly into fists.
Just to make sure any surveillance drones Amanda Waller might have hovering around wouldn’t catch the flash drive his biological father had pressed into his palm.
[--------------------]
Greater Bialya
May 30, 09:52 UTC+3
Miss Martian slowly approached two of her greatest foes – frozen in dimensional flux, and clearly in tremendous pain.
“If I keep this up on ‘em much longer, reckon I might do permanent damage,” Danny Chase told the others. “Y’all ready fer me ta hit the release button?”
His squad leader gritted her teeth, her eyes glowing green. “I’ve got my psyche locked on Psimon’s.”
Cassie looped her lasso around Queen Bee’s waist – three times for good measure.
“And this one’s mine,” she said, nodding firmly.
Danny’s projection returned the nod, before spreading his arms out wide. The fractal beams dissipated a moment later, returning a coughing Queen Bee and Psimon to the material dimension.
To her credit, despite her current predicament, it took very little time for the former’s usual regal scowl to return to her face.
“Hello, sweet Megan,” she spoke coolly. “You’ve gotten better at playing dirty, it seems. I approve.”
“WE’RE NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR APPROVAL,” Gar sneered in lemur-form, his sheer hatred for the queen evident even through an artificial voicebox. “WE’RE HERE FOR ANSWERS. AND YOU’RE GONNA GIVE THEM TO US.”
That actually earned a brief chuckle from the villainess. “Have you forgotten that I am a sitting head of state? And Psimon, my Minister of Foreign Affairs? We’re untouchable, and we always will be.”
“I mean, s’truth. We can’t arrest yeh,” Wendy said with a shrug. “But like BB said, we’re ‘ere feh answers. Or ‘ave yeh still not figured out what yeh got wrapped ‘round yehself?”
Queen Bee looked mystified by the question for a few moments, before her eyes glanced downward – and widened with horror as the golden glow of the lasso filled them.
A very distinctive, very magical glow.
“Big sis let me borrow her toys for the weekend,” Cassie declared, grinning smugly as she pulled the Lasso of Truth taut. “So how ‘bout we get started with the big one, huh? What is Project Kajura?”
The villainess tried to keep her teeth gritted together, but the magic of the Lasso would permit no lies, even by omission. Slowly, painfully, it forced the truth from her lips.
“It’s…the Light’s grandest plan. One Savage has…been working toward…for over three thousand years…”
She managed to stop herself there, having technically answered the question. But they all knew it was only a matter of seconds before Cassie demanded her to elaborate – and that she’d be powerless to stop her once she did.
So in that moment, Queen Bee made a split-second decision. And she spoke before the Wonder Girl could.
“While I wear this lasso, every word I speak must be the absolute truth,” she said. “And so, there can be no doubt when I say…that Psimon knows what he must do.”
The leader of Onslaught looked suddenly stricken – proof that the fractal beams had knocked him out of his enthralled stupor.
“Your Majesty, you…you can’t possibly mean…” he stammered.
“Psimon. Knows. What he must do,” she repeated in a louder voice, talking over him.
Miss Martian trained her mind on the other psychic, trying to parse Queen Bee’s vague orders and anticipate what kind of attack he might launch. But though she was prepared to block an attack against herself, or any of the gathered Outsiders or Team members, she had no way of shielding his true target.
Not when the target welcomed his full strength brain-blast without the slightest hint of resistance.
“NO!” she screamed, just a second too late. As Queen Bee slumped to the ground, her mind obliterated in an instant.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I am so, so sorry…” Psimon wept, burying his tearsoaked face in his hands as he broke down completely. Not even attempting to fight back as Forager pulled him into a four-armed hold.
While at his feet, one of the deadliest supervillains in the world lay still, drool leaking absently from her lips.
[--------------------]
Markovburg
May 30, 09:55 EEST
Even with fewer targets and more of her squad to work with, Tigress couldn’t say they were doing much better than before.
Obviously, that mostly came down to the fact that Baazovi’s “Doomsday” weapon was a greater threat than all the Infinitors put together. Halo had given her a quick briefing on what the beast actually was – a misshapen, mangled clone of Brion – in the middle of running for their lives, but while his situation was definitely pitiable, it didn’t change the fact that he was clearly one of the most efficient murder machines ever devised.
The Father Box gestalt the ambassador had called “Grid” was a bit more of a mystery, though from the beeps and lights playing over the circuitry in a dissonant symphony, she guessed Baazovi had turned over active control of Doomsday to them.
They were also emanating a field that prevented Halo from opening Boom-Tubes, disrupted electronics (Darkwear included), and impeded them from leaving the room, as Static had just learned the hard way.
Overall, the secret presence of this thing in the literal seat of power went a long way to explain how Baazovi had solidified his hold over the country so completely.
“I never thought about networking with other Boxes,” said Violet as they dodged a claw-swipe from Doomsday. Even from several feet away, the beast was now hot enough to singe their costume. “Clearly it has…advantages.”
“Can you sense anything from them?” asked Virgil. “Alien computer hybrid to alien computer hybrid?”
“I tried teh read it. The beastie too,” Lia added, still too injured to stand without support. “Their minds are screamin’. O’er an’ o’er. S’all I can hear.”
“The psyches of Mother or Father Boxes are not quite the same as purely organic beings. But they are just as diverse. Some good, some evil…most in-between,” Halo tried to explain. “But these – let’s just say I don’t think they were fused by choice. All I feel from them is hatred.”
“And that poor clone of my brother probably has never known anything but screaming,” said Tara, shaking her head as she held back the creature with large chunks of debris. “We have to save him. You know…as soon as we can stop him from trying to kill us.”
“I wish I could help,” muttered Rosa, leaning against a wall off to the side and looking morose. The other Infinitors were arrayed along the opposite wall, determinedly not looking at one another. “But without my strength, I’m useless. We all are.”
“No, you’re not,” Tigress told her sharply. “You’re far more than whatever meta-powers LexCorp decided to give you. Or meta-traffickers.”
She raised her voice on that last sentence, causing Celia, Donald, and Johnny to look askance.
“Yeah. Take it from someone who knows how it feels to be torn open. Turned into a weapon with no say in the matter,” said Static. “In the end, the only person who gets to say what you’re made of is you. And if you want a demonstration…”
And with that, he released a truly massive amount of electricity into Grid.
The gestalt attempted to hold their ground, but Virgil cried furiously as he continued to pour on the juice, lightning leaking erratically from his eyes and mouth.
“I’m no freak. No pawn. And no runaway!” he exclaimed. “Every day of my life, I’ve been an Outsider. And I’m goddamn proud of it!”
Eventually, he forced Grid back against the ruins of the throne, pinning them to the crumbling steps.
But even more remarkable was what was happening with “Doomsday.”
“There a reason he ain’t movin’, man?” asked Jet. Indeed, the creature had gone completely still while Grid was under fire, like a statue.
It was Terra who figured it out first. “Sveiki, Megan! Baazovi told us how hard they worked to get the clone under mind control.”
“So without orders, he doesn’t have a clue what to do with himself,” said Fury with a gasp. “Meaning there is something we can do. Any of you Infinitors with me?”
Trajectory and Everyman remained still – the latter, admittedly, had the excuse of being unconscious – but after a moment’s hesitation, Jet, Kobold, and Lizard Johnny all nodded.
Then, as one, they leapt atop the lattice of Father Boxes.
Grid tried to shake them off, but Tigress acted swiftly, firing an arrow that exploded into sticky foam to trap the gestalt in place. Halo and Terra joined Static in providing cover fire, preventing them from counterattacking as the Markovian heroes each pulled at one of the Boxes.
“They’re wedged together tight!” Johnny grunted as he pulled with all his might. “Is this even working?”
“It is! Keep it up!” Looker cut in, wincing as she pushed her psychic senses into the Grid network. “The mo’ stress yeh put on their system, the harder it is fer the fiend ta ‘talk’! D’it enough an yeh jus’ might…”
Suddenly, the Father Boxes burst apart, clattering to the ground like a knocked-over pile of building blocks. The energy backlash was enough to send the gathered heroes flying, though thankfully Halo was able to catch them with a force-bubble.
They quickly got to work surrounding each of the Father Boxes into their own, smaller bubbles, preventing them from rejoining.
“That’s enough out of you naughty boys!” they said. “That’s not how you act on Earth!”
Meanwhile, Static and Terra were brave enough to go and examine Doomsday, who still hadn’t moved since they started their offensive against Grid.
“Any ideas how we’re gonna take this guy in?” asked a grimacing Virgil. “Worried the Light might still be able to flip a switch and put him back in berserker mode.”
Tigress tapped at her ear. “Comms and Darkwear are back up now that Grid’s neutralized. Calling for League assistance – not like Brion can throw us out of the country anymore,” she answered in clipped tones. “I’d like a GL, but sounds like most of them are off-world. Rocket too.”
A few seconds later, a couple of icons appeared in her Darkwear interface, offering assistance. Cyborg’s made sense, given they were dealing with sixteen of his “brothers.” But the other…
“Huh,” she muttered to herself. “Looks like this is a job for Superman.”
[--------------------]
Blüdhaven
May 30, 00:32 EDT
“How does it look, Dick?”
Nightwing shook his head as he poured over mountains of data streaming on the screen before him. “It’s…clean. Or at least that’s what it looks like to me. I’d want a second opinion before saying for sure.”
As such, he turned to his partner in the adjacent seat, who matched his dismayed reaction.
“I’m not finding anything either,” said Barbara Gordon. “Hard as it is to believe, Kaldur…there really isn’t a single Trojan Horse or piece of malware on this drive. Just one heavily encrypted video file.”
“And are you able to break the encryption?” Kaldur asked. “Loath as I am to trust anything provided by Black Manta, he did risk much to pass this along to me. My biological father may be a villain, but he is not the type to act irrationally.”
“I’ve got my best program cracking it now. Should be ready in a couple minutes,” Oracle told him. “In the meantime…you doing okay, Kaldur? Sounds like that’s the most you’ve talked to Manta in five years.”
The second Aquaman let out a long sigh. He’d shared most of the earlier conversation with his two friends, with one glaring exception.
The supervillain’s final request, which he’d wholly refused to grant.
“I have made my peace with…who he is. Let us just say he shall not be invited to the wedding,” was what he chose to say. “Beyond that, it is probably more a discussion for my next session with Dinah.”
He took another deep breath, before turning to Dick and adding, “But what about the two of you? I understand you just returned from an emergency meeting of the Bat-Family following the…revelations at Infinity Island.”
“Jason is alive. Bruce and Talia have a son. Ra’s al Ghul is dying,” Nightwing rattled off on his fingers. “Yeah, fair to say there was a lot to unpack.”
“Honestly? I’m most concerned about Bruce,” said Oracle. “He did his best to play the usual ‘stoic general’ when we got together in the Batcave, but I could tell he’s…rattled. And who wouldn’t be? He likes to pretend otherwise, but he’s only human. Maybe the most human of any of us.”
“Not to mention he’s in his forties now, and still fighting like he did in his twenties,” Dick muttered. “Which is not something you can bring up to the big guy. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
He swiveled his chair around to face Kaldur directly, holding his head between his hands. “Kaldur, I love Bruce. He’s been my dad in every way that counts since I was nine. But he is a stubborn son-of-a-bitch. And…I don’t think he’s doing well.”
“When was his last mental health check-up?” Kaldur asked quietly.
“Six or seven months ago, I think,” Barbara was the one who answered. “But annual isn’t enough for him. He knows that. Or…at least he used to. But I’ve seen him pushing it back more and more lately. Especially after we came back from Batman Inc.”
“Self-care’s never been his biggest priority. I think he’d probably say it hasn’t been a priority since he was eight,” said Dick. “And not gonna lie, that frustrates the hell out of me. If he doesn’t even slow down for this…”
“Quite frankly, my friend, given how much Jason meant to all of you…I think that’s advice every member of your family could take to heart. Yourself included,” Kaldur declared pointedly. “Even I, who knew him far less – well, I did lead the Team during his tenure. Learning of his true fate was…a complicated experience.”
“Complicated,” Dick repeated, letting the word roll slowly over his tongue. “Understatement of the year. Seems our little corner of the world only ever goes in that direction. When I was thirteen, this life seemed so fun. Jumping through shadows, laughing, making brilliant and insightful observations on the squirrelliness of the English language…”
“I think we all could’ve done with, maybe…twenty percent less of each of those,” Barbara cut in with a raised eyebrow.
Dick shrugged, unable to really argue the point. “Well anyway, it…definitely feels different now. Have I ever told you guys about my first session with Dinah? After that screwed-up psychic training mission?”
Kaldur quietly shook his head. Even all these years later, after facing a real alien invasion and countless other tragedies, the scars from that shared nightmare ran deep.
“I told her that I didn’t want to be Batman. That I couldn’t,” said the other man. “And yet how did I spend the next few years? I plotted with you to infiltrate the Light, and you nearly wound up a permanent vegetable cuz I compartmentalized intel too much. And then the three of us joined Bruce in selling our souls for the Anti-Light, since clearly we didn’t learn a goddamn thing the first time.”
Nightwing leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.
“How am I supposed to save Bruce from the worst parts of himself…” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “When I’ve been making all the same mistakes?”
Barbara wheeled herself over to embrace her boyfriend’s arm, and Kaldur did the same on the other side.
“I think making mistakes, and finding the best you can out of them…is sort of the ethos of being in the Bat-Family,” she told him. “It’s definitely why I joined up. And it’s definitely why I love you.”
“And there is no reason those of us already on the road to redemption cannot offer guidance to our fellow-travelers,” added Kaldur. “Indeed, I have found it is often the thing that helps the most.”
Dick remained still for several seconds, before ultimately letting out a deep breath and nodding once.
“I can’t believe I’m planning out an intervention for Bruce freaking Wayne,” he said. “Probably should ask Ollie to bring some net-arrows, just in case he…”
But his quip was interrupted by a sharp beeping sound on the Oracle network mainframe.
“Program finished decrypting the video file,” Barbara stated at once. “Pulling up now.”
The video showed Black Manta sitting in a nondescript room, armored but helmetless. He leaned across a plain white table, gray eyes boring into the camera like it was his last lifeline.
“Hello Kaldur’ahm. If you’re watching this, I guess you didn’t take me up on my request. Didn’t really expect you to, but had to ask.”
“I know I’ve never given you a reason to trust me. But…I really have had a lot of time to think these last few years. About what’s really important. About what isn’t important at all.”
“I’ve gone back and forth about recording this a hundred times. In the end, it’s not about conscience or guilt. I don’t think I was born with those things, not the way most people are. But when you’re staring down the Reaper’s scythe every day, it has a way of putting things in…perspective.”
“All my life, I wanted to be a bigshot. And I thought the Light was my opportunity. Hell, if you hadn’t f*cked up the summit, there’s a good chance I’d be co-ruling the planet right now.”
“But needless to say…that didn’t work out. And so, after a lifetime of violence and hatred and rage…”
“Maybe, just maybe, there’s a part of me that wants to do one good thing in my life. With whatever time I have left.”
“Kaldur, I can’t tell you everything, because they don’t tell us everything. But I can give you a date, and a location.”
“June Sixteenth. Metropolis, at Planet Circle. That’s where Waller’s deploying us. And let me tell you, she’s deploying everything. Task Force X has a lot more at its disposal than just Belle Reve convicts, and she’s bringing all of it to bear that day.”
“Beyond that, I can only speculate. But I’ll put it this way. In all the years I’ve worked at Amanda Waller’s heel, this is the first time I’ve seen it in her eyes. Even if she tries her damnedest to hide it.”
“The first time I’ve seen fear.”
The video ended abruptly with those words. Aquaman, Nightwing, and Oracle slowly turned to face one another.
“We’re all thinking the same thing, right?” Dick asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“June Sixteenth in Metropolis,” said Barbara through gritted teeth. “The Pride Parade.”
[--------------------]
Warworld
May 30, 07:49 UTC
The weathered face of Vandal Savage was unreadable as he listened to a report over the Warworld’s comms.
“Yes…Yes, of course. I appreciate you providing me with this intelligence, Brain,” he murmured. “And no, I do not blame you for prioritizing your own assets first. Once you’ve secured them, however, know that the Light’s doors are always open to you and Mallah.”
Cassandra Savage slowly approached her father as he hung up the call. Without turning around, he spoke to her in cold, firm tones.
“Please check on the condition of Queen Bee’s most recent Psy-Back. We may or may not get a chance to use it, but I’d like to verify that it’s an option,” he said. “Then contact Icicle Senior. Most of Onslaught will escape Belle Reve by extension of Psimon’s diplomatic immunity, but Skull and Faust are ‘freelancers.’ They will need protection.”
Anyone who didn’t know Vandal Savage as she did would’ve taken the lack of emotion in his voice at face-value. But she saw the way his enormous muscles tensed, and the receiver in his hands threatened to splinter from the sheer force of his grip.
The last time she’d seen him this way was right after the Arion debacle. There was no other way to put it:
Her father was pissed.
“And as soon as that’s done…gather the remaining chairs of the Light. Top-level priority. Don’t accept whatever excuse Klarion tries to give,” he went on, finally turning to face her.
In the light of the red sun the Warworld was presently orbiting, his scars almost seemed to be bleeding fresh.
“We have much to discuss.”
