Post by HoM on Jan 21, 2018 10:05:56 GMT -5
Stood in the Justice League’s Watchtower, surrounded by the solar system’s greatest heroes, the being known as Equinox began to tell a story. Familiar to some in places, but completely new to others, the figure-- his body crackling with a hypnotic blend of white and black energy-- wore a Ying and Yang motif upon his costume. Half of his body was stark white, while the other half was pitch black, the symbol that formed in the centre swirling on his chest.
“It started, I suppose, with a wedding. Two heroes, their loves and their lives intertwined since they were children. You were all there, or, I suppose, most of you. After a long night of cracking down on the most wanted monsters and villains the world had to offer, the rest of you patrolled the world, making sure that the remaining forces of evil didn’t upset the balance while the best of you celebrated the union of Batwoman and Nightwing…”
Barbara Gordon looked to her nearly-husband, Dick Grayson. They’d all been summoned to the Watchtower for an audience with this being, the one who seemed to know the cause of all their woes. A garrison of heroes were stationed back on Earth, just in case it was a trap. They weren’t stupid. If this man wasn’t what he claimed to be, and this was all a lure, a bear trap with Equinox as the bait, then they couldn’t allow all their number to be caught when it sprung.
Dick gave her a reassuring smile, even though the end of the universe scenario Equinox described needed something a bit more powerful than that winning Boy Wonder smirk…
“…Through the machinations of my vile brother, the monstrous Libra, every door in existence-- be them the door to your homes, the airlocks to your Watchtower, or the cells holding your worst denizens safely under lock and key-- opened. Horrors beyond all understanding were unleashed. The destructive energies behind the Source Wall have been released, along with the ancient gods that pocked its surface. Every hell has been let loose upon the universe…”
They knew as much. The day so far had been spent recapturing their enemies, and the largest gatherings of supervillainy known to man was currently under armed guard in various remote locations across the world.
The world’s superpowers had come together, a true Justice League International, and now Russia’s Rocket Red Trinity Brigade stood united with Britain’s Knights of the Realm, the Global Guardians were side-by-side with Big Science Action, and more… unity had come to the world, but only under the worst of circumstances.
“…You have to understand… all of existence is being devoured… the unrelenting entropic wave once kept in check by the Source Wall has already eradicated incalculable lives across the universe in a matter of hours, and is headed to Earth with every passing second… time is crashing in on itself, stretching in pockets, waning in others… you’ve experienced this catastrophe in real time, but across the universe hours, days, even months have already passed, and each breath is spent anticipating the end…”
The weight of the situation suddenly seemed to dawn on him, and Equinox shook his head sadly. He looked around at the room, though none could see his face under the mask he wore.
“…Some of you have experienced loss already. Some of you know it’s sting. But there will be more death. More destruction. If you don’t come together and put an end to the threat, there’ll be nothing left to celebrate. I know the name of the engineer of this eschaton event. I know the man-- no, creature-- who has taken my brother as a disciple. And I can help you. I can give you everything you need to stop this from being the last days of all reality. If not, this truly will be, the…”
“Go to the only ultra-maximum-security prison on Earth, he said! Just to look into something, he said! Oh, and you do whatever he asks you to, because you love him, but you don’t see him putting a ring on this finger, oh no you don’t…”
Stephanie Brown talked too much. She always had. Even now, over a decade into her career as a masked vigilante, and she never knew how to knock that habit out of her head. Many had tried, but all had failed.
What had Barbara said, back in the day when Stephanie wore a different mask and went by a different name? “You’re the chattiest Batgirl I’ve ever met, and you can’t believe how happy that makes me.” The memory still warmed Steph, and in this line of work, you held onto those ones the tightest, lest they slip from your fingers.
The only person who’d managed to get her to shut up at least once was her tall, dark and brooding boyfriend, Gotham City’s own Batman. And now look where she’d ended up.
Tim Wayne himself had sent her to Slabside Penitentiary to look into something that had got his detective senses tingling. There was a Justice League alert that had been missed during the chaos. Something that hadn’t clicked into place immediately, but once it had, he knew he had to look into it.
Shilo Norman, Warden of the Slab and long-time keeper of the place, had asked for a Justice League investigation, but then everything that happened had happened and now there was much more to be concerned about.
In his report, Shilo explained that there was an escape. That shouldn’t have been possible, but then the world turned upside down and all the doors opened, and all the prisoners were spat out of their cells, so impossible wasn’t exactly a believable word at the minute.
“Focus, Steph. Don’t get lost in the details… see everything… find the link…”
One escape. One prisoner. John Doe-- weren’t they all John Doe at one point or another?-- aka, the Key. He’d been in a coma for nearly two decades after facing off against the Justice League in an attempt to-- what had the write-up said?-- an attempt to unlock the gates of Heaven and learn all its secrets?
“And then there’s now…”
Tim’s words replayed in her head: “Apparently he woke up, and an entire medical team and security unit are dead because of it. The Slab is nearly wholly locked down, but can you head over there and check in with Shilo? I want to know exactly what happened. All the media uploads from his server are corrupted, so we don’t have the footage from the escape…”
And so here she was, the Spoiler, ready to figure out the truth of a situation, even if those around her didn’t want to hear it.
“You all right there, Spoiler?”
Shilo entered, leaning hard on his cane. A few years ago, he’d been stabbed in the back by Kanto, Apokolips’ premiere assassin. The fact that he was alive was commendable, but it was due to his own ingenuity and his personal Mother Box that he could walk. Nerve damage caused the limp, but physical therapy had mitigated its severity in recent years.
Spoiler turned. She had been stood in the Key’s now abandoned cell, thinking. “Yeah, I’m all good. You said all the cameras in here were fried?”
“Yeah, it looks like whatever method the Key used to break out… not only was it damn bloody, but it also fried the cameras we had set up monitoring him.”
Spoiler smiled, the corners of her mouth pulling at her mask. “I’m a bit of a cheat. There are certain baddies running around that don’t like to play by the rules, so why should I? I hope you don’t mind… but I invited a friend. She’s here with us now.”
His brow furrowed. “My security system didn’t detect anyone--”
“It wouldn’t.” Stepping forward from behind Shilo, a familiar face joined the discussion. Her green skin indicated her race, and the black bodysuit, along with the crimson stripes across her chest, paid homage to her mentor, the Martian who had rescued her from the survival pod back on Mars, more than a decade ago…
“Shilo, have you ever met Miss Martian before?” asked Spoiler, receiving a kiss on the cheek from her old friend.
“Uh, I don’t think I have. Martians… damn… I need to fill that gap in my system…”
Miss Martian smiled. “Spoiler explained the situation. I think I can help.”
“How?” asked Shilo.
“Martians have a number of extrasensory abilities. Psychometry is among them.”
Shilo pinched his nose, a pressure headache building. “Psychometry? You mean you can get a psychic impression off objects?”
“Exactly! You got it!” exclaimed Spoiler.
“I’ll need a few moments alone, if that’s okay?” said Miss Martian.
“Take all the time you need,” replied Spoiler.
“We’ll, uh, wait outside,” said Shilo.
The pair left the Martian to her work, and leaned on the walls in the corridor outside. “This is going to be a breeze,” said Spoiler.
“We’ve got reports of Khund raiders warping in at the tail of the convoy, sir!” barked one of the crewmen on the bridge of the The Cometeer III, as the immense craft shook under the barrage it was receiving from the stray vessels trying to claim some scrap of the convoy’s supplies for themselves. Self-preservation won over group survival, and the convoy was getting hammered because of it.
Captain Comet grit his teeth. Pirates, marauders… they’d take on all-comers, but there were more and more invaders trying to get the precious supplies they’d gathered before the end times. They were trying to get to safety, but as space crumbled around them, where was safe nowadays? Time and space were bending, crashing together, events that should have taken place over weeks smashed into days, maybe even hours… even his immense mutant psyche couldn’t keep up-- what hope would any others have?
“Oh, frack,” whispered one of the sensor sweepers as she gripped the console in front of her.
“What is it, lieutenant?” asked Comet.
“It’s… it’s not just some raiders, Captain… it’s the whole sprocking fleet!”
“Main view screen!”
Every single craft in the Khund armada was warping into view. Empty space was filling with monstrous war machines designed for conquering. Stars had died, their light had vanished from the field of space, but those dots were being replaced by shards of war metal. The kind of sight that would drive entire races to genocidal suicide. The Khunds were here. All was lost.
With the Source Wall gone, the fleet were running from the untold horrors that had once been kept locked away by the infinite Final Barrier on the edge of space. Devilish creatures such as the Void Hounds; Century Widows; the Dire Wraiths… they roamed the cosmos now, tearing at the fabric of reality in the hopes of rending it asunder one last time before the universe died. Not only them, but the likes of Aangkar the Annihilator; the devil of the Third Gods, Gog; the forefather of evil, Yuga Khan; the breaker of love known as the Anti-Imzadi…
“Are there any responses to my distress call?” asked Captain Comet, gripping the chair he’d been sat in previously, his mutant fingers bending the metal.
“Only those asking for help, captain. Reports say Oa is gone-- consumed by the entropy wave. The Green Lantern Corps must be lost-- we’re alone--”
“I have to try one more time, I have to try anything,” said Comet. He put a finger to his temple and began to think the loudest thoughts he’d ever thought; {My name is Adam Blake. My tele-thoughts are radiant to a distance of fifty thousand light-years. Are you receiving me? Is there anyone there? Is there anyone left who can help us?}
The rat-a-tat-tat of energy blasts rattling the Cometeer suddenly stopped after a thunderous avalanche of vibrations that shuddered through the hull. There was a silence, until a beeping began to emanate from one of the consoles.
“Captain, we’re being hailed--”
“Who?” asked Comet.
“The Khund flagship, the Light of Kho Kharhi, it’s her-- her--” The comms-person looked up at Comet. “It’s an entreaty.”
“What are you waiting for, put it up on the screen!” said Comet.
An entreaty from a Khund was an admission of weakness, something the Khunds abhorred. At this time, in this moment, what could it mean for the future?
“This is War Marshall Lorca, representative of the Khundian race through the rite of conquest,” growled the dark pink-skinned male on the viewscreen. The interior of his vessel was in chaos, sparks flying from every corner, consoles smoking under the duress they’d experienced. Lorca’s beard was wiry and unkempt, and a deep gouge was bleeding from his right temple down to his mouth. “We heard your distress call, Captain Comet. Khund is gone. The territories under our control devoured by the Great Vanishing.”
Great Vanishing? mouthed one of the security officers to Comet’s left, off-screen.
One of the comms officers touched her arm. “It’s a Khundian legend-- their apocalypse legend, basically. That the end times wouldn’t come through war, but that one day everything would cease to be. Peace. An eternal peace. That’s something their culture can’t abide.”
Lorca continued. “I have come to the decision that we have no hope of survival without an alliance. We would join your convoy, Captain. We’ve already taken care of the gnats that stung at your back. For that, you’re welcome. I shall deploy our raiders throughout your fleet, to provide defence. I only demand-- hhh-- ask-- that we are considered the coming days. I will not go quietly into the abyss. I believe you won’t either.”
“He’s telling the truth, and he’s been through hell to get here,,” murmured Comet, his vast psychic senses receding back into his head. “LEGION welcomes the devastating power of the Khund people to our convoy. Our biggest concern is the lightning storm that we’re tracking on our far sensor sweeps. We’ve redirected sixteen times now, but it keeps changing course to meet us.”
“We can see it. I propose a vanguard intercept it before it intercepts us,” said Lorca.
“Sir! The storm just accelerated! Impact in seconds--!” cried one of the officers on Comet’s bridge.
Comet gripped the arm of his chair, and turned to the ship’s view screen. “Prepare for impact! We’re already surrounding the weaker ships, so have them lock down all systems apart from shields and life support! Lorca, this is our moment! Do not go gentle into that good night!”
“Ey, Lena, luv! Come on out and give yer uncle ‘Chester a big kiss!”
Psychotic British psychic Manchester Black strolled into the lobby of L-Tower, kicking at rubble as he was joined by his crew, the latest iteration of the Elite. He was half-mad and ranting, a far cry from the more delicate psychopath he’d been across the last two decades. Well into his fifties now, the cancer in his brain that gave him his mutant powers pushing hard against the rational, decision-making centres of his brain, the once punk rock bastard of the supervillain set was now greying, his Union Jack t-shirt a whole lot looser than the first time he’d taken a step on the streets of Metropolis.
“You an’ me, we’ve got unfinished business, and I hear that squeeze o’yours ain’t about, so why don’t we see about wrapping it up now?”
Bizarro stumbled after his boss, dragging his feet as he went. He moved slowly, his eyes dull and grey. He looked around and licked his dry lips. “Me am not recognise this place.”
A balding, leather-clad man shook his head, unimpressed by the scratching voice of his accomplice. 666 hadn’t been on the scene for long, but he had a reputation for killing. He’d made a conscious decision to separate himself from the rest of the world, tattooing his name sake on his face and around his pierced nipples. He hefted his arm up as it transformed into a futuristic Gatling gun. “Shut up, Bizarro. They used to grow you here, didn’t they? Less talk, more scary.”
“Don’t be givin’ orders, Sixes. I’m the boss, remember?” said Manchester.
666 winced. “Yeah, yeah, I got you.”
“Do ya? ‘Cause if ya don’t, I’ll have to feed ya to the All-American Boy, won’t I?”
He gestured behind him, where a hulking monstrosity was trudging into the lobby, radiating a toxic emerald hue. The creature resembled the monstrous Kryptonian engine of destruction known as Doomsday, but it’s craggy, bony protrusions were comprised of green Kryptonite. It’s very existence must have been agony, but somehow Black had managed to take control of the thing’s faculties and drive it into the centre of Metropolis. The thing exhaled.
“Yeah, I got you, man. C’mon, I’m just having a joke.”
“I’m the funny one, Sixes. I come up with the best jokes. Best ya remember that.”
A woman with olive skin brushed her hand across the back of Black’s neck and leaned forward, whispering seductively in his ear: “Manchester, please stop posing. My shadows have told me that she’s up there. Let’s take the leash off our monsters, and let them take care of her.”
Manchester turned and looked at his latest girlfriend and winked. “Yer right, Wrath. Jenny, m’girl, yer right. All right, all right. Sixes, get loud and--”
Without warning, 666 was blasted forward, slamming face first into the executive elevator that led to Lena’s office. His cyborg chassis had shuddered, and his head had pancaked on impact. Manchester turned, and was surprised to see who’d attacked them.
“Johnny lad, what the hell do ya think yer doin?”
Once known as the villainous Metallo, the reformed John Corben stood in the threshold of L-Tower, his chest opened wide to expose his Kryptonite hearts. Lenses made from all the different types of Kryptonite were visible, each with their own catastrophic effects when exposed to Kryptonian DNA. He shook his head. “This place is protected, Manchester.”
“Who? By the likes of you? Don’t make me laugh you robot bastard--! Boy, take care of our uninvited guest, why don’t ya?”
All-American Boy turned and looked over at Corben. “HHHHHHUHHHHHHH?”
“Where’d you find this one, Manchester?” Metallo asked, backing up.
Black lit the cigarette he’d placed in his mouth with a spark of pyrokinetic power and took a long drag, blowing out a cloud of smoke that obscured his face but did nothing to hide his toothy grin. “You’d be surprised what nasty lil’ secrets the US government kept on lockdown. This guy was supposed ta’ be the ultimate Kryptonian deterrent, but when Superman went an’ took off for deep space, the put ‘im on ice. I ended up in the cell next ta him after Supergirl put me away the last time, and wouldn’t ya know it, I wuz able to get ma’ hooks in. All’a my current crew, we been through hell together. We’re the secrets the US couldn’t keep. An’ after we kill Lena god damn Luthor, we’re gonna make all’a her friends suffer. Guess that includes you, ya reformed robot piece a’ crap!”
“You’ll have to try harder to hurt my feelings. But gimme a sec, I wanna try something.”
Corben’s chest opened, and the Kryptonite-fuelled battery in his chest revved up, and began to make a horrific noise, like it was in overdrive. The light throbbing from the All-American Boy’s Kryptonite protrusions began to fade, and threads of emerald light were sucked into Metallo’s chest-- his body began to glow, and his veins became puffed up as green energy suffused his being-- he was sucking the faux Doomsday’s radioactive charge right out from under him!
“Yeah, that’s about right,” said Metallo, as the All-American Boy collapsed, completely drained of the cataclysmic energy that fuelled him. John looked at his hands, surprised by the amount of energy he’d taken in. “Well, I can’t keep this, can I?”
He pointed his finger at Wrath, and smiled. “Pew, pew.” A massive torrent of energy shot out and knocked the shadow-wielding villain out, and another blast from his other hand melted 666 into a pile of slag with a head, that hadn’t stopped shouting obscenities this entire time.
“Phew, I am wiped,” said Corben, doubled over with his hands on his knees.
“Ya… ya took out half’a ma’ crew… like they wuz… nothin’…” said Manchester.
“No, I just cleared the board,” said John.
Black’s brow furrowed. “Whadaya mean, ya--?”
Bizarro was engulfed by a snarling shape that yapped as it grabbed him by the cape. It spun its head around and then released the backwards clone of Superman through the wall that led back out into the city.
“That’s a good boy,” said Metallo.
Krypto barked angrily at Manchester Black, but knew he had other responsibilities. The Kryptonian dog followed after Bizarro, even as a flaming figure descended from the top of the L-Tower, an appearance that made Krypto yip happily.
“Why’re ya doin’ this, Corben? You wuz one’a us! The baddest of the bad guys! Why’re ya fightin’ fer Lena Luthor?”
“It’s not for her. It’s for Superwoman. She gave me a second chance. She didn’t give up on me. And don’t you know it, when I got out, she trusted me to walk her dog when she was busy fighting the good fight. That’s the kinda trust you can’t buy.”
“Yer… yer doing this because she let you walk her dog?” said Black.
“Nah, I’m doing this because her dog came and got me when it all went to hell. We were coming to see what we could do and bumped into you. To be honest, Manchester… this is just an unlucky coincidence… for you.”
“You’re sick, Black.”
Manchester turned, and was punched in the face by Lena Luthor, her hard-light armour projected over her scruffy overalls. He tried to send a psionic spike through her brain, but her psychic defences, built after a nasty run in with Brainiac, were top notch. She punched him again, and then again, and refused to stop.
It took Metallo pulling her off of him to end the beating, and when the red faded from her eyes, she realised what she’d done. Manchester was a broken and bloody mess, and the armour over her fists were stained with his blood.
“I… I…”
“It’s okay, kid. You’re angry. I used to get angry too. Now I just get more zen. We’ve got more to worry about-- Bizarro is--”
“Stabilised,” replied Flamebird, floating down to join the rest. The young Kon-El, the clone of Superman and the mad scientist Xa-Du, inhabited by the Kryptonian entity known as the Flamebird, was beyond the sum of his parts. He grinned as Krypto licked his face, excited to see one of his old master’s. “The fire of the Flamebird entity fixed his broken genetic code, and now his mind has been aligned for the first time ever. It made sense to use my powers to fix something that was so utterly broken.”
“That’s kind of you guys’ thing nowadays, isn’t it?” asked Corben.
“Fixing broken things? Taking in strays? Worked for you, didn’t it?” said Kon, nudging Metallo in the ribs.
“Look guys, I don’t have everything I need to save her, here. There’s… I need… I need…”
“What can we do to help you?” asked Kon, tickling an excited Krypto behind the ear.
“You can help me steal something from the Justice League.”
Flamebird, Metallo and now Krypto stood in a stunned silence.
“Well, my face turn lasted longer than I expected it to,” said Metallo.
“Are we sure we can trust this guy?”
Dick paced the meeting room of the Justice League’s space-based headquarters, while Tim stood with his back to him, staring out from their vantage point and looking across the chasm of space where the Earth sat in silence, nearly 385,000 kilometres away.
“He has a lot of the answers, and it maps with what we know. The science team are constructing the temporal cage he proposed, but not letting him near it, and they’re checking every piece over and over. If it works… it’ll capture the cause being the timeline shrinkage.”
“I don’t like this. Not one bit,” said Dick.
“How’s Babs?”
“Probably as angry as me. My wedding, man. This interrupted my wedding. Yesterday was supposed to be perfect, but we’ve been fighting fires since walking down the aisle. Didn’t even get to exchange vows…”
Tim laughed and turned. “You’ll have your chance, bro. And maybe this’ll give us time to finally track down Bruce. He should be there, dammit.”
“Yeah… I know… but it’s got to the point where I don’t think he’ll ever come back. Last time we saw him…”
“I don’t want to think about it. I’ll touch base with the science team. Ask Ted for his take on the current situation. We can win this. We can save the day. We don’t… we don’t lose, Dick. You know that.”
“Well, we haven’t lost yet. We’re batting a thousand so far. Okay, you talk to Ted, I’ll go see Babs. Man, we really should be married by now…”
“Cool. And hey, have you seen Jason? I wanted to run something by him, but I can’t find him.”
“No, man. That’s weird. Is he answering telepathic summons?”
“No… it’s getting me a bit worried.”
The refugee fleet was engulfed by the lightning storm that drifted through space, and the ships were buffeted by the immense pressures exerted by the anomaly that they couldn’t see the end of.
Captain Comet grimaced. “My God, this is--”
There was a flash and figures began to appear on his bridge. He recognised them-- and began lashing out with his powers-- sending them flying backwards, surprised by the resistance exhibited by the crew--
“Draw arms! We’re being boarded! This isn’t a lightning storm! There are people in there-- it’s a--”
Elsewhere in the ship, a Boom Tube opened, and the older members of the All-Star Academy clambered aboard, and were immediately caught in the chaos.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, we did it! We’re really in space!” exclaimed Minuteman.
This young man was the youngest of the class, though he appeared fifteen. The circumstances of Jonathan Tyler’s birth meant he could generate short bursts of both speed and strength, but with the added side effect of age spurts that left him looking fifteen when he was coasting towards his tenth birthday. Thankfully, his maturity and intelligence levelled up along with his age, so the doctor’s concerns about developmental issues were assuaged early on. It didn’t terrify his parents any less though.
“Pssh. This isn’t my first deep space mission, Jonny,” replied Spectrum.
Jessica Jordan had a pedigree about her, and the weight of expectation on her shoulders to match. The daughter of Earth’s greatest Green Lantern, Hal Jordan, and Chloe Sullivan, the intelligence agency savant who had redefined global peace with her agency’s work, she was able to call upon an entire spectrum of energy that her father could only control one element of-- the emerald light corralled by will-- and she had been at this longer than the others. Considering she was only just about to turn seventeen, that was saying a lot.
“Yeah, but it’s your first by flying Boom Tube, so let him have this,” said Stripe.
Marcus Reyes was the tallest of the group, with broad shoulders and the intimidating promise that he hadn’t yet fully-filled out. A Puerto Rican with short black hair and darker black eyes; he wore the old Liberty Bell belt buckle-- the same one that empowered the original Liberty Belle back in World War II-- that provided him the ability to unleash sonic bursts and enhanced strength when needed.
“Ugh, don’t even, Stripesy. I’m the one who got us the Boom Tube, let me have my moment,” said Cat.
Kyle-- no second name that he’d shared so far with his friends-- was about eighteen years old, an African-American male who stood second tallest in the group. He was lithe, with the build of a gymnast or professional dancer, and had a physical awareness the rest of his young classmates lacked. With light brown hair and bright green eyes, his costume took inspiration from those worn through the years by both Selina Kyle and Thomas Blake, causing those around to constantly question who exactly he was taking his namesake from.
“This isn’t one of Nightwing’s bantering classes, guys. We’re-- whoa!”
Meteor was interrupted mid-sentence by the ship rocking aggressively, and the team braced themselves against the hull of the ship. He was the son of Captain Comet and an unknown mother, his grey-skin and large, black eyes-- deep as any ocean-- signalling to the world that she wasn’t of this one. It was his psychic link with his father that had led them here, though Cat was right… he was the one who had stolen their mode of transport.
Stars looked around the deserted corridor and then turned to Stripe. “I don’t like this.”
Patricia Whitmore was a young, energetic dancer; slim of body and face, with bright red hair and freckles scattered across her cheeks. While she was the shortest team member she was also the fieriest, and as if to punctuate her point the Nth Metal Cosmic Bracers-- a redesign and improvement of the old cosmic converter belt, courtesy of her father-- worn on the wrists crackled with celestial energy.
“Me neither. What’s--”
A man turned a corner, his bug-eyes popping when he saw the super powered youths. He shouted loudly in an alien language that none of them recognised, and raised his hand, a crackling bolt of energy dancing between his fingertips.
Without making a noise, Meteor hurled a sphere of kinetic energy at the attacker, striking him hard in the chest and sending him flying backwards. The team took up a defensive position, and looked to Spectrum for direction.
“Who the heck is that…” she wondered.
“No clue, but he’s got some friends!” shouted Cat.
Spectrum raised her hand. She was angry. She wanted answers. And as such, a molten blast of crimson energy erupted from her palm and sent the cadre of bug-eyed men and women flying backwards before they could unleash the thunder bolts that they were about to throw their way.
“Hey, Jess, calm it! You know you can’t mainline red without hurting yourself!” said Stars.
“I’m… I’m okay…” said Jess, wiping her mouth. “And… and call me Spectrum when we’re on mission.”
Her throat burned, but she concentrated on the lessons taught to her by her dad, about controlling the direction her emotions took, and the breathing exercises she’d learned from Professor Todd.
“Meteor, can you get anything from these guys?” she asked.
“Their minds are full of static… hard to pick through… anyone recognise them from the case files Professor Free shares during Advanced Rogues?”
“They look familiar somehow…” said Spectrum.
Meteor reached out to her face, and said quietly, “May I?”
“Jog my memories? Sure.”
“Can you make it quick? The hairs on the back of my neck are tingling and there are all kind of stats I could give you about the dangers of being in space,” said Cat.
“We’ll guard the corridor, just… yeah, just be quick,” said Minuteman. “C’mon, kitten.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Ugh, coming, Minuteboy.”
Minuteman and Cat went one way while Stars and Stripe went in the other, leaving Meteor and Spectrum to comb through her memories, to try and figure out who the bug-eyed invaders truly were.
“Has anyone heard from Flamebird?” asked Cassandra Sandsmark, aka Wonder Woman. Her long-term boyfriend was prone to his walkabouts, the entity inside him that gave him his immense powers having its own sense of morality and purpose, but they’d said they would meet here, and yet he’d not turned up.
A few years ago, she’d won a universe and pantheon spanning contest to bear the mantle of Wonder Woman, along with her mentor Diana and their sisters Donna and Zenobia. They had gone through numerous trials, fought good and evil along the way, and emerged victorious with a brand-new mandate for peace that was intended for the entire universe.
Before the wedding of Batwoman and Nightwing, Donna Troy had been travelling space with her boyfriend, Kyle Rayner, aka Green Lantern. They had a small place on the edge of the solar system, a little space-based home-away-from-home, where they could always rendezvous when they’re interstellar remits allowed. Cassie marvelled at the lives they’d all ended up living, and knew she would always do her best to live up to the example set by Diana. She missed her mentor dearly, but when the time was right, she knew she’d return to them.
“Is he not responding to your calls?” asked Anita Fite, aka Empress. The pair were in the thick of the construction operation being led by the Justice League’s science team, with Anita using her ability to control people put to good use as crowd control. She nudged people to go back into their homes, back to safety, away from the rapidly transforming Centennial Park.
“No… not yet…”
Cassie grimaced. She’d left Themyscira a few hours ago, after Doom’s Doorway didn’t spit out any creatures from the depths of the underworld. The Oracles suggested that this might be due to the fact that the mysterious opening of doors was as much a surprise to those behind them as those before them, so they had no time to prepare themselves to raid the land of the living. The immense door was bolted closed again, and the armies of Paradise Island stood vigilant.
There was a flash of blue and white lightning, and Bart Allen III, aka Mercury, came to a screeching halt in front of his old teammates. “Heyguyswhat’sgoingon?”
Barry Allen’s grandson from the far future, the hero formerly known as Impulse, then later Kid Flash, had adopted an identity of his own in recent years, that of Mercury. He wanted to pay homage to Max Mercury, the cross-time-speedster who was no longer with them, and the man who’d raised him when Bart had landed in this century. He took a second to slow down, and then smiled.
“Sorry. What’s going on?”
“Kon isn’t returning Cassie’s calls,” said Anita.
“That’s not it!!” exclaimed Wonder Woman.
Empress laughed. “I’m just messing with you, mon. Your face!”
“I can have a look around? If you like?” offered Bart.
“No, I’m… I’m sure he’s fine. Aren’t you helping with the construction?” asked Cassie.
“Not allowed to. Speed Force vibrations might cause their calibrations to go off kilter. So, I’m just sourcing the materials needed, making sure everyone has what they need.”
Cassie nodded. That made sense. “Any word from Wally?”
“They’ve got him checking in with people up and down the country. I heard Mister Miracle wanted him for an important project, but he’s just got to find the time to break off from his other responsibilities.”
“Mister Miracle? Last I heard he was with Doctor Fate,” said Anita.
“Huh. I wonder what’s brewing with them, then,” said Cassie.
Miss Martian’s hands were outstretched as she felt the resonance of the psychic events that occurred in the bloodied cell beneath the Slab. There was an absence of consciousness for so long, the only pinpricks of interruption coming from the nursing staff and guards who checked on the prisoner who was kept down here for so long.
Martian psychometry was a curious power, and not one she had trained with as much, simply due to J’onn J’onzz’s lack of knowledge around its utilisation. It was ambiguous, subtle, and it took a certain frame of mind to access the errant thoughts and events that might linger in a place after they had taken place.
“…after he faced off with the Justice League one too many times…”
“…the guy’s a vegetable. Completely unresponsive…”
“…he experienced a massive psychic trauma over fifteen years ago…”
“…he saw something his brain couldn’t handle…”
Blood dribbled from M'gann M'orzz's nose, and she wiped it absent-mindedly.
Memories… images… a bloodied lance… razor sharp on one end and with two scales on the other… a chest impaled… a throat cut…
“H'ronmeer …” she whispered, the immensity of the sensations washing over her almost overwhelming.
The lance crackled with energy… touched the chest of the comatose villain… and then was shoved even deeper… binding magicks were evaporated… things keeping secrets secret were dispelled… and then there was a bright light… the brightest of lights… and then
“…I’m as old as my tongue, a few months older than my teeth…”
“…thirsty weak hungry…”
“…how long have I been here…?”
“…how long has it been since the Flash ran my mind away…?”
There was a shape behind the lance… behind the man wielding the lance… smaller than a man… swathed in darkness… and age… ancient and horrible…
“…my master will speak now…”
“…it will hurt…”
M’gann’s eyes rolled up in the back of her head. She could feel her body shudder. There was an immense psychic pressure in the room now, as it replayed the events of the Key’s escape. And then, when the words began to roll in from the void of the past, she shifted between Green and White Martian forms quickly, her flesh almost liquid, rippling like a disturbed body of water.
“YOU HAVE BEEN THROUGH THE FINAL DOOR.”
“…no no don’t look don’t listen run crawl hide…”
“…I saw the light and now I know how to unlock the secrets of the universe…”
“…why am I saying that? Why am I telling this thing the truth…?”
“I HAVE NEED OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE.”
“I NEED YOU TO OPEN THE DOORS FOR ME.”
“…All of them,” whispered Miss Martian, and then the room exploded outward, the walls buckling and the windows in the corridor outside shattering, the concussive psychic blast sending her down to her knees, clutching her head.
“What-- the hell-- was that--?!” asked Shilo, looking up from where he’d been thrown.
“Stay here!” said Spoiler. She clambered up and entered the now ruined cell that had once held the Key, and saw Miss Martian fluctuate between bodies. “M’gann! Focus! Whatever happened, whatever you saw-- you need to focus!”
M’gann closed her eyes tightly, and when she opened them she was green again, her eyes burning red with an intensity Stephanie hadn’t witnessed before. “I saw the monsters responsible for freeing the Key. They used his power to open all the doors. It’s all connected.”
“Who are they? Who did this?” asked Spoiler.
“I don’t know… but I know their shape… their psychic presence… if I were to see them again… I would know.”
“Then let’s get to the Watchtower and touch base with the others. If the Key is loose… he can do this whole thing again and again until he’s caught!”
The Key was ranting. His prisoner wasn’t playing ball, even after he’d had her wings torn from their moorings in her back. Here he was, sat on the throne of the Presence itself, supported by the four host of Heaven, the Bull, the Eagle, the Human and the Lion. He’d unlocked the secrets of the celestial plane so long ago, it was second nature to turn his key in the locks of their existence to bring them to heel. But there was one angel he couldn’t control, and it was driving him slightly mad. Madder than he already was, if that could be at all possible.
“All I want is the keys to the kingdom! The blueprint you keep on your skin that will allow me to redesign creation! You don’t understand what’s going on out there!”
Shakily, Zauriel smiled, her cracked teeth stained with blood. She was restrained by hell-metal, dragged here to the foot of heaven’s throne from the formerly occupied cell of the fallen angel Asmodeus. When the doors had opened, the former King of the Bull Host had fled, leaving his chains behind. They’d come to good use now, and even the dread Asmodeus would be pleased.
“…E-end of the world. Crisis-level event. Good versus evil… am I close?” Zauriel offered. She glanced down at the ruined wings that were splayed around the once-beautifully pristine floor of heaven’s throne room.
“Try end of all existence. We’re un-moored from the multiverse now. Isolated. Two immense powers are bouncing back and forth, from one end of the timeline to the other, eradicating events… eating time… and we’re marooned here in the celestial realm… and we have a chance to start again. A new age. A new creation.”
“With you as god? Don’t make me laugh,” said Zauriel. She chuckled. It hurt, something having come loose in her chest.
“I’ll skin you. I’ll tear you apart. Your brothers and sisters, who are now under my thrall, they’ll do it for me.”
“Do it then. Do it.”
“Why… why are you being like this? I don’t understand! I want to be in control! I want to know everything! But I need to guarantee existence to do all of that! I want to save humanity! I want to offer them a lifeboat!”
“You really want to know why?” asked Zauriel.
“More than anything, my dear,” replied the Key.
“…If you reboot this universe, this reality, if you undo everything that’s come before, then what’s the point? History has run a singular course in this universe, and it’s led to every single event that played out, be it in the past, present or future. If you undo even a slither of that, then it won’t be my universe anymore… it’ll be something new and sad and ineffectual. If you reboot this universe… Traci won’t be my Traci, even if she’s a Traci. I would sacrifice the future for her.”
“You’d… you’d refuse to release the blueprint… for love? You’d doom creation because of some girl?”
“Yes. But I like to think of it as something else. I like to think of it as betting on her.”
The Key was taken aback. “On her to do what?”
“Can’t you guess? I’m betting on her to storm the gates of heaven themselves to bring me back,” said Zauriel.
“Madness. You’ve got mad with love. That’s it. If I can’t unlock the way for you to give me the blueprint willingly… I truly will have to take it from you by force.” A bull-headed angel handed the Key a razor-sharp butcher’s blade. He tried it out on the air, and heard the metal sing as it connected with the space before him. “Oh, this is wonderful. Enochian. An ancient piece of perfect craftmanship. Are you ready, Zauriel? Do you want something to bite down on?”
“We’re going to break into heaven,” said Traci Thirteen, aka Doctor Fate, matter-of-factly.
Stood assembled were some of the greatest heroes the world had heard of, though very few of them had ever graced the membership ranks of the Justice League or Society.
Among that number was Natasha Irons, aka Steel, the working-class hero of Metropolis fame. When they were young, she’d shared a bed with Traci, but their love was loud and raw. They’d broken up before Superman had left Earth, and remained best friends since. She was one of the few science-minded geniuses who had no problem with magic, and had consulted on a number of cases with the most recent Doctor Fate.
Standing next to her husband, Courtney Whitmore-Batson, aka Starwoman, gripped her cosmic rod tightly with nerves. It had been years since Jack Knight had passed his namesake to her, and she missed his sage advice dearly. He’d exited the superhero world quietly and inconspicuously to be with his lady love, and they were currently driving the highways of America with their two kindergarten age children. She wanted to check in on him, make sure he was okay, but with everything that had happened over the last day… she’d not had a chance to breathe until now.
Noticing his beloved’s nerves, Billy Batson, aka Captain Marvel, was massaging her shoulders almost absentmindedly. He knew it was a gesture that relaxed her, and he knew how to iron out all the knots in her worry-filled back. She’d called him down here to come up with a solution to their heaven problem, but the Rock of Eternity held no answers for that particular conundrum. He wished the Wizard was still around, but he’d moved on to the next world years ago.
Here in his capacity as the greatest escape artist who’d ever lived, Scott Free, aka Mister Miracle, had taken his leave from San Francisco and the All-Star Academy run by his wife, Barda, to come here. Doctor Fate had appeared before him with a challenge, something he’d never done before, and he couldn’t turn it up. If there was something going on in heaven, if they were locked out when all other doors were open, that had to mean something. Before he’d arrived, he’d made one phone call, and formulated a plan… he had an idea, and wanted to deliver it on the grandest stage available.
Gruff as ever, John Constantine was stood alongside his wife Zatanna Zatara-Constanine. They’d sniped at each other on the way over, but their hearts were in the case at hand for all the right reasons. Zauriel was a close friend, she’d officiated their wedding-- John had wanted one of his old punk rocker mates to do it, but Zauriel was a compromise-- and in the past, had helped them exorcise Nergal from their first born, Zoelle. Now it was time to return the favour. Never a problem in this line of work.
Rounding out their numbers were Zachary Zatanna, Zee’s cousin, and his boyfriend, Eddie Bloomberg, aka Red Devil. They had come running, and were happy to help in any way possible. Their youthful enthusiasm was contagious, and it made even the sternest of their number, Rose Psychic, who lingered at the back of the Tower of Fate’s library, smile in her own way.
Back at the House of Mystery, Doctor Occult-- Rose’s husband-- was working with the members of La Mística, Mchawi Malkia and the Torden Drittsekk in trying to see the cause of their current troubles, but the veils of time were distorted, and unclear as to what happened beyond the next few days. There was white. Entropic energy. Nothingness. The termination point. Some of their number had gone mad, but others had simply accepted that reality was coming to a catastrophic end. What could be done to stop it?
“Grand theft Heaven. Yeah, you said that, but the question remains, how?” said Constantine.
“Brilliantly,” replied Mister Miracle.
“Of course you’d say that,” said John.
“Let’s hear them out,” said Zatanna, gripping her cranky husband’s hand.
John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, alright…”
“We know there is no spell that can grant us access. No incantation that will allow us entry. After all the other times we stepped foot on the celestial plane, they got kind of bored and locked it down so even Zauriel has trouble getting up there. But that’s where Scott comes in.”
“I love a challenge. I’ve been working with Traci on adapting this Boom Tube generator to break through dimensional barriers. Such as… the ones that keep the world separate from the heavens. But we need a bit of a kick to get us through. That’s--”
“SorryI’mlateI’vebeenrunningraggedalllllllnight,” said the Flash, coming to an abrupt halt in the tower.
“Slow down, Wally,” said Zatanna.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve been zipping up and down the country checking in on all the temporary penal colonies,” he replied.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good. But what’s the Flash got to do with this?” asked John.
“He’s the fuel to our fire,” replied Doctor Fate.
“He’s… well… what does that even mean?” asked John.
Rose Psychic shook her head disdainfully. “Let them explain, and stop interrupting, John. You’d think you were raised in a barn, an attitude like yours.”
John swallowed hard, and took a step back. “Sorry, Rose,” he said. It was the first sign of respect he’d shown through this whole ordeal, but Rose had that kind of effect on people. Zee laughed inwardly, but didn’t let John see. When this was all over-- if they all survived-- she must invite Rose and Richard over for dinner.
“It’s a story… a story your father used to tell…” said Meteor, sifting through Spectrum’s deepest memories.
“Could you guys hurry up? This place is creepy as balls,” said Cat from his side of the corridor, glancing back over his shoulder as the others worked. “I’m a thief, not a… rear guard? What the hell kind of work is this, shrimp?”
Minuteman rolled his eyes. “Let them work, Kyle. Jeez. And I’m not a shrimp.”
Meteor continued, his eyes clamped shut. “Thunder… they come from… from a barren place… they… they’re the opposite of…”
The psychic link between the pair was broken as Stars and Stripe were thrown backwards toward them by a hulking figure that moved impossibly fast and ambushed the group of Young All-Stars without warning. Spectrum raised a hand and projected a shield of emerald energy, while Cat and Minuteman rushed toward them.
“Apart… from the bridge… you’re… the only… holdouts…” growled the newcomer, two bolts of lightning clasped in his hands. He was muscular and angry-looking, which was a weird juxtaposition considering he was wearing the same shorts as the other invaders had been wearing, and his dark pink skin caused his yellow, bug-eyes to bulge even more.
“Oh, I know what they are,” whispered Spectrum.
“Who? Who the hell are they?” asked Cat.
“…Thunderers of Qward.”
The Thunderer cast a bolt toward the emerald shield Spectrum had projected, and it exploded into heavy green shards, rubble lining the corridor. “We… don’t want… children.”
There was another explosion behind the All-Stars, though the pitch and tenor of this one was a lot more familiar. Minuteman turned and was relieved to see a familiar face step out. “I think we’re going to be okay, guys.”
Decked out in his body armour, Jason Todd, aka the Red Hood, looked up at the Thunderer and shook his masked head. Instead of addressing their enemy, he looked down at the All-Stars. “You all know you’re in big trouble, right?”
“Don’t care… who you are… you’re… fodder!” bellowed the Thunderer, angry at being ignored.
“And you look like you’re on steroids, mister,” said Red Hood. He pulled his pistols from their holsters and fired two shots off, and the non-lethal rounds struck the Thunderer in his hands, causing him to drop the lightning bolts he’d drawn from his holster. “Kids! We need to move!”
The group hustled around the corner, and sprinted toward the bridge of the ship. The giant Thunderer of Qward cursed them and tried to barrel toward them, but salvos from the Red Hood’s guns caused him to back off.
“Professor Todd, we’re really sorry,” said Patricia, her cosmic bands buzzing up to full power after she’d recovered from the initial attack.
“We’re not in school right now, Stars. Call me Red Hood. Lightning Bug told me everything! I should Boom Tube you straight into detention, but we can do good here, so let’s do what we trained you for, okay? Meteor, can you still sense your dad?”
“Yes, he’s on the bridge, but he’s in trouble,” said Meteor, touching his temple.
“Okay, you need to get there, then. Spectrum, take the lead. Defensive positions always. Stars, you have the rear. Shields up at all times. Meteor, if you sense danger round a corner, take another one. Don’t let those lightning bolts hit you, they’ll transport you to god knows where. Got it?”
“What about you, sir?” asked Minuteman.
“I have to take care of that pain in the ass who started a fight with my kids,” said Jason. He checked his pistols, and they could tell he was smiling. “You wanna know the great thing?”
“Uh, what would that be?” asked Cat.
“My knee doesn’t even hurt,” said Jason, as he broke off from the kids and headed back toward the gigantic Thunderer. He’d have thought he would have learned by now, but no, he kept doing this. He’d mangled his leg a couple of years back, before this class joined the academy, when the entire school had been snatched up and thrown into Lady Styx’s Colosseum He knew he should have turned tail and got the kids back to safety, but he asked himself what he would have done in the same situation, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to change their minds. So, all he could do was make sure they had as even a playing field as possible.
The large Thunderer stood in the middle of the corridor, growling as the Red Hood made his return. “Oh, honey. Did you lose your breath? Get a bit gassed?”
The Thunderer shook his head, and removed his quiver of thunderbolts from his back, casting them to the ground like it was a challenge. He cracked his knuckles, and then his neck with an almighty noise that made Jason wince. “You… will die… now.”
“I highly doubt it,” said Red Hood, raising his pistols. "It's never stuck before!"
Images and feelings but no substance and no ground and no up and no down and black is white and white is black but there is no colour nor is there the absence of colour, just the void, the chasm, the ghostly ethereal realm where nothing is real and everything means nothing, the hidden place that was found so long ago an utilised as a prison where the worst of the worst were sent even though there were things even deadlier inside its darkest recesses if it had darkness or it had recesses but it is everything and everywhere and it is--
Another dimension. The ultimate purgatory of punishment and exile. A timeless sensory deprivation tank that, in time... will drive any prisoner mad.
{Kara? Kara Zor-El, is that you?}
A far-off voice caused Kara’s eyes to snap open, but she could see nothing. She remembered why that would be quickly, and she would have cried if she had the opportunity. But no, now was not the time for tears. That voice… familiar… distant…
“Hello?” she whispered. But no noise came from her mouth. She was drowning in nothingness. Of course. She couldn’t see or smell or hear in this place, but that voice spoke to her, didn’t it? The sensory deprivation of the Phantom Zone was horrible, the uncertainty, the unknowing… the voice spoke to her, but she couldn’t speak back… what if…
{hello?} she thought.
{Kara, try not to move. I’m coming to you. It’s okay. We can figure this out.}
Something touched her. How could that be? Nothing had weight or substance in the Phantom Zone, but when something was slipped over her face, the world snapped into focus. A familiar face became clear as her eyes adjusted beneath the goggles, and she began to see form in the void.
{Mon? Is that you?} she asked.
Wearing the same kind of goggles as her, the Daxamite known as Mon-El nodded, and reached out to her. With her eyes covered by lenses that allowed her to see in this place, she half expected to watch his hand pass through her own, but she felt his fingers, his body heat, and while she was confused, she didn’t question it. He pulled her through the void, until they came across a craggy outcropping deeper in the Phantom Zone. They pushed through a strange membrane, and were spat out onto a physical space, and Kara was surprised to find herself breathing.
“Where…” Words slipped from her mouth before she knew they could be heard. “Where are we?”
Mon checked the goggles on her face and smiled, confident they were working. “There are islands of physical space in the Phantom Zone. Places where the material world intersect with the immaterial. They are few and far between, but once you find them once, you can find them again.”
“Like… like Fort Rozz?”
Her father used to tell her stories, horror stories that were true, that he probably shouldn’t have told her when she was so young, but much to her mother, Alura’s, chagrin. Fort Rozz was a Kryptonian prison for criminals that were to be sentenced to the Phantom Zone. A savage criminal by the name of Dev-Em caused a riot to break out before the administrators could activate the Phantom Zone Projector, and in the midst of the chaos, it exploded and the entire prison was transferred directly into the Phantom Zone.
Kara had been there once, before Kal had left Earth. She didn’t like to think about it. Bad things happened there, and she tried her best not to linger on them. But this didn’t look like Fort Rozz, so where, or what, was it exactly?
“It’s the edge of the zone. I didn’t think it was possible to find one, but I did.”
“The edge?”
“Yes, I know, it’s a formless place, but I found this wall… like a membrane. I’ve tried breaking through it, but the powers I gained on Earth are absent here.”
“Membrane?” Kara squinted to look past it, but her super-vision failed her. She pinched herself sharply, and managed to draw blood. Her powers were gone. “Wait! The Black Zero!”
She looked around frantically, a jolt of fear racing through her.
“The what?” said Mon.
“I pushed it back into the zone when it tried to enter Earth through the Fortress. That’s why… how… I’m here. Proto-Kryptonian shamans banished it to a spirit world-- it must have been the Phantom Zone-- and I… was there anything else with me when you found me?”
“No. Nothing. It must have dissipated after re-entry. You know the laws of physics are completely out of whack here. Kara. Listen to me. I brought you here for a reason. The membrane-- you can see into the real world here. At any point. But the timeline… it’s shrunk. There’s no past. There’s no future. Time is being devoured. I used to… I used to watch my adventures with the Legion, to give me some semblance of hope in this void… but I can’t see them anymore. I don’t have a future. None of us do.”
“We have to get out. We have to stop this,” said Superwoman.
“But how, Kara? We’re trapped. We don’t have a physical body, or powers, in this place. We’re not going anywhere!”
Kara pressed her hands up against the membrane and then tapped her head against the hard, crystalline surface. She was trapped. There was no way out. The only working Phantom Zone projector in known existence had blown up during her entry into the void. Mon was here, so that was something, and she was physical, so that was something else, but still… trapped was trapped. “Lena. Please. Save me.”
“It started, I suppose, with a wedding. Two heroes, their loves and their lives intertwined since they were children. You were all there, or, I suppose, most of you. After a long night of cracking down on the most wanted monsters and villains the world had to offer, the rest of you patrolled the world, making sure that the remaining forces of evil didn’t upset the balance while the best of you celebrated the union of Batwoman and Nightwing…”
THE DC2 UNIVERSE PRESENTS…
Barbara Gordon looked to her nearly-husband, Dick Grayson. They’d all been summoned to the Watchtower for an audience with this being, the one who seemed to know the cause of all their woes. A garrison of heroes were stationed back on Earth, just in case it was a trap. They weren’t stupid. If this man wasn’t what he claimed to be, and this was all a lure, a bear trap with Equinox as the bait, then they couldn’t allow all their number to be caught when it sprung.
Dick gave her a reassuring smile, even though the end of the universe scenario Equinox described needed something a bit more powerful than that winning Boy Wonder smirk…
“…Through the machinations of my vile brother, the monstrous Libra, every door in existence-- be them the door to your homes, the airlocks to your Watchtower, or the cells holding your worst denizens safely under lock and key-- opened. Horrors beyond all understanding were unleashed. The destructive energies behind the Source Wall have been released, along with the ancient gods that pocked its surface. Every hell has been let loose upon the universe…”
…AN ADVENTURE OVER A DECADE IN THE MAKING…
They knew as much. The day so far had been spent recapturing their enemies, and the largest gatherings of supervillainy known to man was currently under armed guard in various remote locations across the world.
The world’s superpowers had come together, a true Justice League International, and now Russia’s Rocket Red Trinity Brigade stood united with Britain’s Knights of the Realm, the Global Guardians were side-by-side with Big Science Action, and more… unity had come to the world, but only under the worst of circumstances.
“…You have to understand… all of existence is being devoured… the unrelenting entropic wave once kept in check by the Source Wall has already eradicated incalculable lives across the universe in a matter of hours, and is headed to Earth with every passing second… time is crashing in on itself, stretching in pockets, waning in others… you’ve experienced this catastrophe in real time, but across the universe hours, days, even months have already passed, and each breath is spent anticipating the end…”
…THE TENTH ANNIVERSARY OF AN ENTIRE UNIVERSE…
The weight of the situation suddenly seemed to dawn on him, and Equinox shook his head sadly. He looked around at the room, though none could see his face under the mask he wore.
“…Some of you have experienced loss already. Some of you know it’s sting. But there will be more death. More destruction. If you don’t come together and put an end to the threat, there’ll be nothing left to celebrate. I know the name of the engineer of this eschaton event. I know the man-- no, creature-- who has taken my brother as a disciple. And I can help you. I can give you everything you need to stop this from being the last days of all reality. If not, this truly will be, the…”
PART FIVE: “LOST IN THE SPACES”
Story by Susan Hillwig, Don Walsh and House Of Mystery
Written by House Of Mystery (and thanks to Susan Hillwig and Don Walsh)
Cover taken from concept designs by Brandon Herren (RIP)
“Go to the only ultra-maximum-security prison on Earth, he said! Just to look into something, he said! Oh, and you do whatever he asks you to, because you love him, but you don’t see him putting a ring on this finger, oh no you don’t…”
THE SLAB:
Stephanie Brown talked too much. She always had. Even now, over a decade into her career as a masked vigilante, and she never knew how to knock that habit out of her head. Many had tried, but all had failed.
What had Barbara said, back in the day when Stephanie wore a different mask and went by a different name? “You’re the chattiest Batgirl I’ve ever met, and you can’t believe how happy that makes me.” The memory still warmed Steph, and in this line of work, you held onto those ones the tightest, lest they slip from your fingers.
The only person who’d managed to get her to shut up at least once was her tall, dark and brooding boyfriend, Gotham City’s own Batman. And now look where she’d ended up.
Tim Wayne himself had sent her to Slabside Penitentiary to look into something that had got his detective senses tingling. There was a Justice League alert that had been missed during the chaos. Something that hadn’t clicked into place immediately, but once it had, he knew he had to look into it.
Shilo Norman, Warden of the Slab and long-time keeper of the place, had asked for a Justice League investigation, but then everything that happened had happened and now there was much more to be concerned about.
In his report, Shilo explained that there was an escape. That shouldn’t have been possible, but then the world turned upside down and all the doors opened, and all the prisoners were spat out of their cells, so impossible wasn’t exactly a believable word at the minute.
“Focus, Steph. Don’t get lost in the details… see everything… find the link…”
One escape. One prisoner. John Doe-- weren’t they all John Doe at one point or another?-- aka, the Key. He’d been in a coma for nearly two decades after facing off against the Justice League in an attempt to-- what had the write-up said?-- an attempt to unlock the gates of Heaven and learn all its secrets?
“And then there’s now…”
Tim’s words replayed in her head: “Apparently he woke up, and an entire medical team and security unit are dead because of it. The Slab is nearly wholly locked down, but can you head over there and check in with Shilo? I want to know exactly what happened. All the media uploads from his server are corrupted, so we don’t have the footage from the escape…”
And so here she was, the Spoiler, ready to figure out the truth of a situation, even if those around her didn’t want to hear it.
“You all right there, Spoiler?”
Shilo entered, leaning hard on his cane. A few years ago, he’d been stabbed in the back by Kanto, Apokolips’ premiere assassin. The fact that he was alive was commendable, but it was due to his own ingenuity and his personal Mother Box that he could walk. Nerve damage caused the limp, but physical therapy had mitigated its severity in recent years.
Spoiler turned. She had been stood in the Key’s now abandoned cell, thinking. “Yeah, I’m all good. You said all the cameras in here were fried?”
“Yeah, it looks like whatever method the Key used to break out… not only was it damn bloody, but it also fried the cameras we had set up monitoring him.”
Spoiler smiled, the corners of her mouth pulling at her mask. “I’m a bit of a cheat. There are certain baddies running around that don’t like to play by the rules, so why should I? I hope you don’t mind… but I invited a friend. She’s here with us now.”
His brow furrowed. “My security system didn’t detect anyone--”
“It wouldn’t.” Stepping forward from behind Shilo, a familiar face joined the discussion. Her green skin indicated her race, and the black bodysuit, along with the crimson stripes across her chest, paid homage to her mentor, the Martian who had rescued her from the survival pod back on Mars, more than a decade ago…
“Shilo, have you ever met Miss Martian before?” asked Spoiler, receiving a kiss on the cheek from her old friend.
“Uh, I don’t think I have. Martians… damn… I need to fill that gap in my system…”
Miss Martian smiled. “Spoiler explained the situation. I think I can help.”
“How?” asked Shilo.
“Martians have a number of extrasensory abilities. Psychometry is among them.”
Shilo pinched his nose, a pressure headache building. “Psychometry? You mean you can get a psychic impression off objects?”
“Exactly! You got it!” exclaimed Spoiler.
“I’ll need a few moments alone, if that’s okay?” said Miss Martian.
“Take all the time you need,” replied Spoiler.
“We’ll, uh, wait outside,” said Shilo.
The pair left the Martian to her work, and leaned on the walls in the corridor outside. “This is going to be a breeze,” said Spoiler.
DEEP SPACE:
“We’ve got reports of Khund raiders warping in at the tail of the convoy, sir!” barked one of the crewmen on the bridge of the The Cometeer III, as the immense craft shook under the barrage it was receiving from the stray vessels trying to claim some scrap of the convoy’s supplies for themselves. Self-preservation won over group survival, and the convoy was getting hammered because of it.
Captain Comet grit his teeth. Pirates, marauders… they’d take on all-comers, but there were more and more invaders trying to get the precious supplies they’d gathered before the end times. They were trying to get to safety, but as space crumbled around them, where was safe nowadays? Time and space were bending, crashing together, events that should have taken place over weeks smashed into days, maybe even hours… even his immense mutant psyche couldn’t keep up-- what hope would any others have?
“Oh, frack,” whispered one of the sensor sweepers as she gripped the console in front of her.
“What is it, lieutenant?” asked Comet.
“It’s… it’s not just some raiders, Captain… it’s the whole sprocking fleet!”
“Main view screen!”
Every single craft in the Khund armada was warping into view. Empty space was filling with monstrous war machines designed for conquering. Stars had died, their light had vanished from the field of space, but those dots were being replaced by shards of war metal. The kind of sight that would drive entire races to genocidal suicide. The Khunds were here. All was lost.
With the Source Wall gone, the fleet were running from the untold horrors that had once been kept locked away by the infinite Final Barrier on the edge of space. Devilish creatures such as the Void Hounds; Century Widows; the Dire Wraiths… they roamed the cosmos now, tearing at the fabric of reality in the hopes of rending it asunder one last time before the universe died. Not only them, but the likes of Aangkar the Annihilator; the devil of the Third Gods, Gog; the forefather of evil, Yuga Khan; the breaker of love known as the Anti-Imzadi…
“Are there any responses to my distress call?” asked Captain Comet, gripping the chair he’d been sat in previously, his mutant fingers bending the metal.
“Only those asking for help, captain. Reports say Oa is gone-- consumed by the entropy wave. The Green Lantern Corps must be lost-- we’re alone--”
“I have to try one more time, I have to try anything,” said Comet. He put a finger to his temple and began to think the loudest thoughts he’d ever thought; {My name is Adam Blake. My tele-thoughts are radiant to a distance of fifty thousand light-years. Are you receiving me? Is there anyone there? Is there anyone left who can help us?}
The rat-a-tat-tat of energy blasts rattling the Cometeer suddenly stopped after a thunderous avalanche of vibrations that shuddered through the hull. There was a silence, until a beeping began to emanate from one of the consoles.
“Captain, we’re being hailed--”
“Who?” asked Comet.
“The Khund flagship, the Light of Kho Kharhi, it’s her-- her--” The comms-person looked up at Comet. “It’s an entreaty.”
“What are you waiting for, put it up on the screen!” said Comet.
An entreaty from a Khund was an admission of weakness, something the Khunds abhorred. At this time, in this moment, what could it mean for the future?
“This is War Marshall Lorca, representative of the Khundian race through the rite of conquest,” growled the dark pink-skinned male on the viewscreen. The interior of his vessel was in chaos, sparks flying from every corner, consoles smoking under the duress they’d experienced. Lorca’s beard was wiry and unkempt, and a deep gouge was bleeding from his right temple down to his mouth. “We heard your distress call, Captain Comet. Khund is gone. The territories under our control devoured by the Great Vanishing.”
Great Vanishing? mouthed one of the security officers to Comet’s left, off-screen.
One of the comms officers touched her arm. “It’s a Khundian legend-- their apocalypse legend, basically. That the end times wouldn’t come through war, but that one day everything would cease to be. Peace. An eternal peace. That’s something their culture can’t abide.”
Lorca continued. “I have come to the decision that we have no hope of survival without an alliance. We would join your convoy, Captain. We’ve already taken care of the gnats that stung at your back. For that, you’re welcome. I shall deploy our raiders throughout your fleet, to provide defence. I only demand-- hhh-- ask-- that we are considered the coming days. I will not go quietly into the abyss. I believe you won’t either.”
“He’s telling the truth, and he’s been through hell to get here,,” murmured Comet, his vast psychic senses receding back into his head. “LEGION welcomes the devastating power of the Khund people to our convoy. Our biggest concern is the lightning storm that we’re tracking on our far sensor sweeps. We’ve redirected sixteen times now, but it keeps changing course to meet us.”
“We can see it. I propose a vanguard intercept it before it intercepts us,” said Lorca.
“Sir! The storm just accelerated! Impact in seconds--!” cried one of the officers on Comet’s bridge.
Comet gripped the arm of his chair, and turned to the ship’s view screen. “Prepare for impact! We’re already surrounding the weaker ships, so have them lock down all systems apart from shields and life support! Lorca, this is our moment! Do not go gentle into that good night!”
METROPOLIS:
“Ey, Lena, luv! Come on out and give yer uncle ‘Chester a big kiss!”
Psychotic British psychic Manchester Black strolled into the lobby of L-Tower, kicking at rubble as he was joined by his crew, the latest iteration of the Elite. He was half-mad and ranting, a far cry from the more delicate psychopath he’d been across the last two decades. Well into his fifties now, the cancer in his brain that gave him his mutant powers pushing hard against the rational, decision-making centres of his brain, the once punk rock bastard of the supervillain set was now greying, his Union Jack t-shirt a whole lot looser than the first time he’d taken a step on the streets of Metropolis.
“You an’ me, we’ve got unfinished business, and I hear that squeeze o’yours ain’t about, so why don’t we see about wrapping it up now?”
Bizarro stumbled after his boss, dragging his feet as he went. He moved slowly, his eyes dull and grey. He looked around and licked his dry lips. “Me am not recognise this place.”
A balding, leather-clad man shook his head, unimpressed by the scratching voice of his accomplice. 666 hadn’t been on the scene for long, but he had a reputation for killing. He’d made a conscious decision to separate himself from the rest of the world, tattooing his name sake on his face and around his pierced nipples. He hefted his arm up as it transformed into a futuristic Gatling gun. “Shut up, Bizarro. They used to grow you here, didn’t they? Less talk, more scary.”
“Don’t be givin’ orders, Sixes. I’m the boss, remember?” said Manchester.
666 winced. “Yeah, yeah, I got you.”
“Do ya? ‘Cause if ya don’t, I’ll have to feed ya to the All-American Boy, won’t I?”
He gestured behind him, where a hulking monstrosity was trudging into the lobby, radiating a toxic emerald hue. The creature resembled the monstrous Kryptonian engine of destruction known as Doomsday, but it’s craggy, bony protrusions were comprised of green Kryptonite. It’s very existence must have been agony, but somehow Black had managed to take control of the thing’s faculties and drive it into the centre of Metropolis. The thing exhaled.
“Yeah, I got you, man. C’mon, I’m just having a joke.”
“I’m the funny one, Sixes. I come up with the best jokes. Best ya remember that.”
A woman with olive skin brushed her hand across the back of Black’s neck and leaned forward, whispering seductively in his ear: “Manchester, please stop posing. My shadows have told me that she’s up there. Let’s take the leash off our monsters, and let them take care of her.”
Manchester turned and looked at his latest girlfriend and winked. “Yer right, Wrath. Jenny, m’girl, yer right. All right, all right. Sixes, get loud and--”
Without warning, 666 was blasted forward, slamming face first into the executive elevator that led to Lena’s office. His cyborg chassis had shuddered, and his head had pancaked on impact. Manchester turned, and was surprised to see who’d attacked them.
“Johnny lad, what the hell do ya think yer doin?”
Once known as the villainous Metallo, the reformed John Corben stood in the threshold of L-Tower, his chest opened wide to expose his Kryptonite hearts. Lenses made from all the different types of Kryptonite were visible, each with their own catastrophic effects when exposed to Kryptonian DNA. He shook his head. “This place is protected, Manchester.”
“Who? By the likes of you? Don’t make me laugh you robot bastard--! Boy, take care of our uninvited guest, why don’t ya?”
All-American Boy turned and looked over at Corben. “HHHHHHUHHHHHHH?”
“Where’d you find this one, Manchester?” Metallo asked, backing up.
Black lit the cigarette he’d placed in his mouth with a spark of pyrokinetic power and took a long drag, blowing out a cloud of smoke that obscured his face but did nothing to hide his toothy grin. “You’d be surprised what nasty lil’ secrets the US government kept on lockdown. This guy was supposed ta’ be the ultimate Kryptonian deterrent, but when Superman went an’ took off for deep space, the put ‘im on ice. I ended up in the cell next ta him after Supergirl put me away the last time, and wouldn’t ya know it, I wuz able to get ma’ hooks in. All’a my current crew, we been through hell together. We’re the secrets the US couldn’t keep. An’ after we kill Lena god damn Luthor, we’re gonna make all’a her friends suffer. Guess that includes you, ya reformed robot piece a’ crap!”
“You’ll have to try harder to hurt my feelings. But gimme a sec, I wanna try something.”
Corben’s chest opened, and the Kryptonite-fuelled battery in his chest revved up, and began to make a horrific noise, like it was in overdrive. The light throbbing from the All-American Boy’s Kryptonite protrusions began to fade, and threads of emerald light were sucked into Metallo’s chest-- his body began to glow, and his veins became puffed up as green energy suffused his being-- he was sucking the faux Doomsday’s radioactive charge right out from under him!
“Yeah, that’s about right,” said Metallo, as the All-American Boy collapsed, completely drained of the cataclysmic energy that fuelled him. John looked at his hands, surprised by the amount of energy he’d taken in. “Well, I can’t keep this, can I?”
He pointed his finger at Wrath, and smiled. “Pew, pew.” A massive torrent of energy shot out and knocked the shadow-wielding villain out, and another blast from his other hand melted 666 into a pile of slag with a head, that hadn’t stopped shouting obscenities this entire time.
“Phew, I am wiped,” said Corben, doubled over with his hands on his knees.
“Ya… ya took out half’a ma’ crew… like they wuz… nothin’…” said Manchester.
“No, I just cleared the board,” said John.
Black’s brow furrowed. “Whadaya mean, ya--?”
Bizarro was engulfed by a snarling shape that yapped as it grabbed him by the cape. It spun its head around and then released the backwards clone of Superman through the wall that led back out into the city.
“That’s a good boy,” said Metallo.
Krypto barked angrily at Manchester Black, but knew he had other responsibilities. The Kryptonian dog followed after Bizarro, even as a flaming figure descended from the top of the L-Tower, an appearance that made Krypto yip happily.
“Why’re ya doin’ this, Corben? You wuz one’a us! The baddest of the bad guys! Why’re ya fightin’ fer Lena Luthor?”
“It’s not for her. It’s for Superwoman. She gave me a second chance. She didn’t give up on me. And don’t you know it, when I got out, she trusted me to walk her dog when she was busy fighting the good fight. That’s the kinda trust you can’t buy.”
“Yer… yer doing this because she let you walk her dog?” said Black.
“Nah, I’m doing this because her dog came and got me when it all went to hell. We were coming to see what we could do and bumped into you. To be honest, Manchester… this is just an unlucky coincidence… for you.”
“You’re sick, Black.”
Manchester turned, and was punched in the face by Lena Luthor, her hard-light armour projected over her scruffy overalls. He tried to send a psionic spike through her brain, but her psychic defences, built after a nasty run in with Brainiac, were top notch. She punched him again, and then again, and refused to stop.
It took Metallo pulling her off of him to end the beating, and when the red faded from her eyes, she realised what she’d done. Manchester was a broken and bloody mess, and the armour over her fists were stained with his blood.
“I… I…”
“It’s okay, kid. You’re angry. I used to get angry too. Now I just get more zen. We’ve got more to worry about-- Bizarro is--”
“Stabilised,” replied Flamebird, floating down to join the rest. The young Kon-El, the clone of Superman and the mad scientist Xa-Du, inhabited by the Kryptonian entity known as the Flamebird, was beyond the sum of his parts. He grinned as Krypto licked his face, excited to see one of his old master’s. “The fire of the Flamebird entity fixed his broken genetic code, and now his mind has been aligned for the first time ever. It made sense to use my powers to fix something that was so utterly broken.”
“That’s kind of you guys’ thing nowadays, isn’t it?” asked Corben.
“Fixing broken things? Taking in strays? Worked for you, didn’t it?” said Kon, nudging Metallo in the ribs.
“Look guys, I don’t have everything I need to save her, here. There’s… I need… I need…”
“What can we do to help you?” asked Kon, tickling an excited Krypto behind the ear.
“You can help me steal something from the Justice League.”
Flamebird, Metallo and now Krypto stood in a stunned silence.
“Well, my face turn lasted longer than I expected it to,” said Metallo.
WATCHTOWER:
“Are we sure we can trust this guy?”
Dick paced the meeting room of the Justice League’s space-based headquarters, while Tim stood with his back to him, staring out from their vantage point and looking across the chasm of space where the Earth sat in silence, nearly 385,000 kilometres away.
“He has a lot of the answers, and it maps with what we know. The science team are constructing the temporal cage he proposed, but not letting him near it, and they’re checking every piece over and over. If it works… it’ll capture the cause being the timeline shrinkage.”
“I don’t like this. Not one bit,” said Dick.
“How’s Babs?”
“Probably as angry as me. My wedding, man. This interrupted my wedding. Yesterday was supposed to be perfect, but we’ve been fighting fires since walking down the aisle. Didn’t even get to exchange vows…”
Tim laughed and turned. “You’ll have your chance, bro. And maybe this’ll give us time to finally track down Bruce. He should be there, dammit.”
“Yeah… I know… but it’s got to the point where I don’t think he’ll ever come back. Last time we saw him…”
“I don’t want to think about it. I’ll touch base with the science team. Ask Ted for his take on the current situation. We can win this. We can save the day. We don’t… we don’t lose, Dick. You know that.”
“Well, we haven’t lost yet. We’re batting a thousand so far. Okay, you talk to Ted, I’ll go see Babs. Man, we really should be married by now…”
“Cool. And hey, have you seen Jason? I wanted to run something by him, but I can’t find him.”
“No, man. That’s weird. Is he answering telepathic summons?”
“No… it’s getting me a bit worried.”
DEEP SPACE:
The refugee fleet was engulfed by the lightning storm that drifted through space, and the ships were buffeted by the immense pressures exerted by the anomaly that they couldn’t see the end of.
Captain Comet grimaced. “My God, this is--”
There was a flash and figures began to appear on his bridge. He recognised them-- and began lashing out with his powers-- sending them flying backwards, surprised by the resistance exhibited by the crew--
“Draw arms! We’re being boarded! This isn’t a lightning storm! There are people in there-- it’s a--”
Elsewhere in the ship, a Boom Tube opened, and the older members of the All-Star Academy clambered aboard, and were immediately caught in the chaos.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, we did it! We’re really in space!” exclaimed Minuteman.
This young man was the youngest of the class, though he appeared fifteen. The circumstances of Jonathan Tyler’s birth meant he could generate short bursts of both speed and strength, but with the added side effect of age spurts that left him looking fifteen when he was coasting towards his tenth birthday. Thankfully, his maturity and intelligence levelled up along with his age, so the doctor’s concerns about developmental issues were assuaged early on. It didn’t terrify his parents any less though.
“Pssh. This isn’t my first deep space mission, Jonny,” replied Spectrum.
Jessica Jordan had a pedigree about her, and the weight of expectation on her shoulders to match. The daughter of Earth’s greatest Green Lantern, Hal Jordan, and Chloe Sullivan, the intelligence agency savant who had redefined global peace with her agency’s work, she was able to call upon an entire spectrum of energy that her father could only control one element of-- the emerald light corralled by will-- and she had been at this longer than the others. Considering she was only just about to turn seventeen, that was saying a lot.
“Yeah, but it’s your first by flying Boom Tube, so let him have this,” said Stripe.
Marcus Reyes was the tallest of the group, with broad shoulders and the intimidating promise that he hadn’t yet fully-filled out. A Puerto Rican with short black hair and darker black eyes; he wore the old Liberty Bell belt buckle-- the same one that empowered the original Liberty Belle back in World War II-- that provided him the ability to unleash sonic bursts and enhanced strength when needed.
“Ugh, don’t even, Stripesy. I’m the one who got us the Boom Tube, let me have my moment,” said Cat.
Kyle-- no second name that he’d shared so far with his friends-- was about eighteen years old, an African-American male who stood second tallest in the group. He was lithe, with the build of a gymnast or professional dancer, and had a physical awareness the rest of his young classmates lacked. With light brown hair and bright green eyes, his costume took inspiration from those worn through the years by both Selina Kyle and Thomas Blake, causing those around to constantly question who exactly he was taking his namesake from.
“This isn’t one of Nightwing’s bantering classes, guys. We’re-- whoa!”
Meteor was interrupted mid-sentence by the ship rocking aggressively, and the team braced themselves against the hull of the ship. He was the son of Captain Comet and an unknown mother, his grey-skin and large, black eyes-- deep as any ocean-- signalling to the world that she wasn’t of this one. It was his psychic link with his father that had led them here, though Cat was right… he was the one who had stolen their mode of transport.
Stars looked around the deserted corridor and then turned to Stripe. “I don’t like this.”
Patricia Whitmore was a young, energetic dancer; slim of body and face, with bright red hair and freckles scattered across her cheeks. While she was the shortest team member she was also the fieriest, and as if to punctuate her point the Nth Metal Cosmic Bracers-- a redesign and improvement of the old cosmic converter belt, courtesy of her father-- worn on the wrists crackled with celestial energy.
“Me neither. What’s--”
A man turned a corner, his bug-eyes popping when he saw the super powered youths. He shouted loudly in an alien language that none of them recognised, and raised his hand, a crackling bolt of energy dancing between his fingertips.
Without making a noise, Meteor hurled a sphere of kinetic energy at the attacker, striking him hard in the chest and sending him flying backwards. The team took up a defensive position, and looked to Spectrum for direction.
“Who the heck is that…” she wondered.
“No clue, but he’s got some friends!” shouted Cat.
Spectrum raised her hand. She was angry. She wanted answers. And as such, a molten blast of crimson energy erupted from her palm and sent the cadre of bug-eyed men and women flying backwards before they could unleash the thunder bolts that they were about to throw their way.
“Hey, Jess, calm it! You know you can’t mainline red without hurting yourself!” said Stars.
“I’m… I’m okay…” said Jess, wiping her mouth. “And… and call me Spectrum when we’re on mission.”
Her throat burned, but she concentrated on the lessons taught to her by her dad, about controlling the direction her emotions took, and the breathing exercises she’d learned from Professor Todd.
“Meteor, can you get anything from these guys?” she asked.
“Their minds are full of static… hard to pick through… anyone recognise them from the case files Professor Free shares during Advanced Rogues?”
“They look familiar somehow…” said Spectrum.
Meteor reached out to her face, and said quietly, “May I?”
“Jog my memories? Sure.”
“Can you make it quick? The hairs on the back of my neck are tingling and there are all kind of stats I could give you about the dangers of being in space,” said Cat.
“We’ll guard the corridor, just… yeah, just be quick,” said Minuteman. “C’mon, kitten.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Ugh, coming, Minuteboy.”
Minuteman and Cat went one way while Stars and Stripe went in the other, leaving Meteor and Spectrum to comb through her memories, to try and figure out who the bug-eyed invaders truly were.
METROPOLIS:
“Has anyone heard from Flamebird?” asked Cassandra Sandsmark, aka Wonder Woman. Her long-term boyfriend was prone to his walkabouts, the entity inside him that gave him his immense powers having its own sense of morality and purpose, but they’d said they would meet here, and yet he’d not turned up.
A few years ago, she’d won a universe and pantheon spanning contest to bear the mantle of Wonder Woman, along with her mentor Diana and their sisters Donna and Zenobia. They had gone through numerous trials, fought good and evil along the way, and emerged victorious with a brand-new mandate for peace that was intended for the entire universe.
Before the wedding of Batwoman and Nightwing, Donna Troy had been travelling space with her boyfriend, Kyle Rayner, aka Green Lantern. They had a small place on the edge of the solar system, a little space-based home-away-from-home, where they could always rendezvous when they’re interstellar remits allowed. Cassie marvelled at the lives they’d all ended up living, and knew she would always do her best to live up to the example set by Diana. She missed her mentor dearly, but when the time was right, she knew she’d return to them.
“Is he not responding to your calls?” asked Anita Fite, aka Empress. The pair were in the thick of the construction operation being led by the Justice League’s science team, with Anita using her ability to control people put to good use as crowd control. She nudged people to go back into their homes, back to safety, away from the rapidly transforming Centennial Park.
“No… not yet…”
Cassie grimaced. She’d left Themyscira a few hours ago, after Doom’s Doorway didn’t spit out any creatures from the depths of the underworld. The Oracles suggested that this might be due to the fact that the mysterious opening of doors was as much a surprise to those behind them as those before them, so they had no time to prepare themselves to raid the land of the living. The immense door was bolted closed again, and the armies of Paradise Island stood vigilant.
There was a flash of blue and white lightning, and Bart Allen III, aka Mercury, came to a screeching halt in front of his old teammates. “Heyguyswhat’sgoingon?”
Barry Allen’s grandson from the far future, the hero formerly known as Impulse, then later Kid Flash, had adopted an identity of his own in recent years, that of Mercury. He wanted to pay homage to Max Mercury, the cross-time-speedster who was no longer with them, and the man who’d raised him when Bart had landed in this century. He took a second to slow down, and then smiled.
“Sorry. What’s going on?”
“Kon isn’t returning Cassie’s calls,” said Anita.
“That’s not it!!” exclaimed Wonder Woman.
Empress laughed. “I’m just messing with you, mon. Your face!”
“I can have a look around? If you like?” offered Bart.
“No, I’m… I’m sure he’s fine. Aren’t you helping with the construction?” asked Cassie.
“Not allowed to. Speed Force vibrations might cause their calibrations to go off kilter. So, I’m just sourcing the materials needed, making sure everyone has what they need.”
Cassie nodded. That made sense. “Any word from Wally?”
“They’ve got him checking in with people up and down the country. I heard Mister Miracle wanted him for an important project, but he’s just got to find the time to break off from his other responsibilities.”
“Mister Miracle? Last I heard he was with Doctor Fate,” said Anita.
“Huh. I wonder what’s brewing with them, then,” said Cassie.
THE SLAB:
Miss Martian’s hands were outstretched as she felt the resonance of the psychic events that occurred in the bloodied cell beneath the Slab. There was an absence of consciousness for so long, the only pinpricks of interruption coming from the nursing staff and guards who checked on the prisoner who was kept down here for so long.
Martian psychometry was a curious power, and not one she had trained with as much, simply due to J’onn J’onzz’s lack of knowledge around its utilisation. It was ambiguous, subtle, and it took a certain frame of mind to access the errant thoughts and events that might linger in a place after they had taken place.
“…after he faced off with the Justice League one too many times…”
“…the guy’s a vegetable. Completely unresponsive…”
“…he experienced a massive psychic trauma over fifteen years ago…”
“…he saw something his brain couldn’t handle…”
Blood dribbled from M'gann M'orzz's nose, and she wiped it absent-mindedly.
Memories… images… a bloodied lance… razor sharp on one end and with two scales on the other… a chest impaled… a throat cut…
“H'ronmeer …” she whispered, the immensity of the sensations washing over her almost overwhelming.
The lance crackled with energy… touched the chest of the comatose villain… and then was shoved even deeper… binding magicks were evaporated… things keeping secrets secret were dispelled… and then there was a bright light… the brightest of lights… and then
“…I’m as old as my tongue, a few months older than my teeth…”
“…thirsty weak hungry…”
“…how long have I been here…?”
“…how long has it been since the Flash ran my mind away…?”
There was a shape behind the lance… behind the man wielding the lance… smaller than a man… swathed in darkness… and age… ancient and horrible…
“…my master will speak now…”
“…it will hurt…”
M’gann’s eyes rolled up in the back of her head. She could feel her body shudder. There was an immense psychic pressure in the room now, as it replayed the events of the Key’s escape. And then, when the words began to roll in from the void of the past, she shifted between Green and White Martian forms quickly, her flesh almost liquid, rippling like a disturbed body of water.
“YOU HAVE BEEN THROUGH THE FINAL DOOR.”
“…no no don’t look don’t listen run crawl hide…”
“…I saw the light and now I know how to unlock the secrets of the universe…”
“…why am I saying that? Why am I telling this thing the truth…?”
“I HAVE NEED OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE.”
“I NEED YOU TO OPEN THE DOORS FOR ME.”
“…All of them,” whispered Miss Martian, and then the room exploded outward, the walls buckling and the windows in the corridor outside shattering, the concussive psychic blast sending her down to her knees, clutching her head.
“What-- the hell-- was that--?!” asked Shilo, looking up from where he’d been thrown.
“Stay here!” said Spoiler. She clambered up and entered the now ruined cell that had once held the Key, and saw Miss Martian fluctuate between bodies. “M’gann! Focus! Whatever happened, whatever you saw-- you need to focus!”
M’gann closed her eyes tightly, and when she opened them she was green again, her eyes burning red with an intensity Stephanie hadn’t witnessed before. “I saw the monsters responsible for freeing the Key. They used his power to open all the doors. It’s all connected.”
“Who are they? Who did this?” asked Spoiler.
“I don’t know… but I know their shape… their psychic presence… if I were to see them again… I would know.”
“Then let’s get to the Watchtower and touch base with the others. If the Key is loose… he can do this whole thing again and again until he’s caught!”
HEAVEN:
The Key was ranting. His prisoner wasn’t playing ball, even after he’d had her wings torn from their moorings in her back. Here he was, sat on the throne of the Presence itself, supported by the four host of Heaven, the Bull, the Eagle, the Human and the Lion. He’d unlocked the secrets of the celestial plane so long ago, it was second nature to turn his key in the locks of their existence to bring them to heel. But there was one angel he couldn’t control, and it was driving him slightly mad. Madder than he already was, if that could be at all possible.
“All I want is the keys to the kingdom! The blueprint you keep on your skin that will allow me to redesign creation! You don’t understand what’s going on out there!”
Shakily, Zauriel smiled, her cracked teeth stained with blood. She was restrained by hell-metal, dragged here to the foot of heaven’s throne from the formerly occupied cell of the fallen angel Asmodeus. When the doors had opened, the former King of the Bull Host had fled, leaving his chains behind. They’d come to good use now, and even the dread Asmodeus would be pleased.
“…E-end of the world. Crisis-level event. Good versus evil… am I close?” Zauriel offered. She glanced down at the ruined wings that were splayed around the once-beautifully pristine floor of heaven’s throne room.
“Try end of all existence. We’re un-moored from the multiverse now. Isolated. Two immense powers are bouncing back and forth, from one end of the timeline to the other, eradicating events… eating time… and we’re marooned here in the celestial realm… and we have a chance to start again. A new age. A new creation.”
“With you as god? Don’t make me laugh,” said Zauriel. She chuckled. It hurt, something having come loose in her chest.
“I’ll skin you. I’ll tear you apart. Your brothers and sisters, who are now under my thrall, they’ll do it for me.”
“Do it then. Do it.”
“Why… why are you being like this? I don’t understand! I want to be in control! I want to know everything! But I need to guarantee existence to do all of that! I want to save humanity! I want to offer them a lifeboat!”
“You really want to know why?” asked Zauriel.
“More than anything, my dear,” replied the Key.
“…If you reboot this universe, this reality, if you undo everything that’s come before, then what’s the point? History has run a singular course in this universe, and it’s led to every single event that played out, be it in the past, present or future. If you undo even a slither of that, then it won’t be my universe anymore… it’ll be something new and sad and ineffectual. If you reboot this universe… Traci won’t be my Traci, even if she’s a Traci. I would sacrifice the future for her.”
“You’d… you’d refuse to release the blueprint… for love? You’d doom creation because of some girl?”
“Yes. But I like to think of it as something else. I like to think of it as betting on her.”
The Key was taken aback. “On her to do what?”
“Can’t you guess? I’m betting on her to storm the gates of heaven themselves to bring me back,” said Zauriel.
“Madness. You’ve got mad with love. That’s it. If I can’t unlock the way for you to give me the blueprint willingly… I truly will have to take it from you by force.” A bull-headed angel handed the Key a razor-sharp butcher’s blade. He tried it out on the air, and heard the metal sing as it connected with the space before him. “Oh, this is wonderful. Enochian. An ancient piece of perfect craftmanship. Are you ready, Zauriel? Do you want something to bite down on?”
SALEM:
“We’re going to break into heaven,” said Traci Thirteen, aka Doctor Fate, matter-of-factly.
Stood assembled were some of the greatest heroes the world had heard of, though very few of them had ever graced the membership ranks of the Justice League or Society.
Among that number was Natasha Irons, aka Steel, the working-class hero of Metropolis fame. When they were young, she’d shared a bed with Traci, but their love was loud and raw. They’d broken up before Superman had left Earth, and remained best friends since. She was one of the few science-minded geniuses who had no problem with magic, and had consulted on a number of cases with the most recent Doctor Fate.
Standing next to her husband, Courtney Whitmore-Batson, aka Starwoman, gripped her cosmic rod tightly with nerves. It had been years since Jack Knight had passed his namesake to her, and she missed his sage advice dearly. He’d exited the superhero world quietly and inconspicuously to be with his lady love, and they were currently driving the highways of America with their two kindergarten age children. She wanted to check in on him, make sure he was okay, but with everything that had happened over the last day… she’d not had a chance to breathe until now.
Noticing his beloved’s nerves, Billy Batson, aka Captain Marvel, was massaging her shoulders almost absentmindedly. He knew it was a gesture that relaxed her, and he knew how to iron out all the knots in her worry-filled back. She’d called him down here to come up with a solution to their heaven problem, but the Rock of Eternity held no answers for that particular conundrum. He wished the Wizard was still around, but he’d moved on to the next world years ago.
Here in his capacity as the greatest escape artist who’d ever lived, Scott Free, aka Mister Miracle, had taken his leave from San Francisco and the All-Star Academy run by his wife, Barda, to come here. Doctor Fate had appeared before him with a challenge, something he’d never done before, and he couldn’t turn it up. If there was something going on in heaven, if they were locked out when all other doors were open, that had to mean something. Before he’d arrived, he’d made one phone call, and formulated a plan… he had an idea, and wanted to deliver it on the grandest stage available.
Gruff as ever, John Constantine was stood alongside his wife Zatanna Zatara-Constanine. They’d sniped at each other on the way over, but their hearts were in the case at hand for all the right reasons. Zauriel was a close friend, she’d officiated their wedding-- John had wanted one of his old punk rocker mates to do it, but Zauriel was a compromise-- and in the past, had helped them exorcise Nergal from their first born, Zoelle. Now it was time to return the favour. Never a problem in this line of work.
Rounding out their numbers were Zachary Zatanna, Zee’s cousin, and his boyfriend, Eddie Bloomberg, aka Red Devil. They had come running, and were happy to help in any way possible. Their youthful enthusiasm was contagious, and it made even the sternest of their number, Rose Psychic, who lingered at the back of the Tower of Fate’s library, smile in her own way.
Back at the House of Mystery, Doctor Occult-- Rose’s husband-- was working with the members of La Mística, Mchawi Malkia and the Torden Drittsekk in trying to see the cause of their current troubles, but the veils of time were distorted, and unclear as to what happened beyond the next few days. There was white. Entropic energy. Nothingness. The termination point. Some of their number had gone mad, but others had simply accepted that reality was coming to a catastrophic end. What could be done to stop it?
“Grand theft Heaven. Yeah, you said that, but the question remains, how?” said Constantine.
“Brilliantly,” replied Mister Miracle.
“Of course you’d say that,” said John.
“Let’s hear them out,” said Zatanna, gripping her cranky husband’s hand.
John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, alright…”
“We know there is no spell that can grant us access. No incantation that will allow us entry. After all the other times we stepped foot on the celestial plane, they got kind of bored and locked it down so even Zauriel has trouble getting up there. But that’s where Scott comes in.”
“I love a challenge. I’ve been working with Traci on adapting this Boom Tube generator to break through dimensional barriers. Such as… the ones that keep the world separate from the heavens. But we need a bit of a kick to get us through. That’s--”
“SorryI’mlateI’vebeenrunningraggedalllllllnight,” said the Flash, coming to an abrupt halt in the tower.
“Slow down, Wally,” said Zatanna.
“Yeah, sorry. I’ve been zipping up and down the country checking in on all the temporary penal colonies,” he replied.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good. But what’s the Flash got to do with this?” asked John.
“He’s the fuel to our fire,” replied Doctor Fate.
“He’s… well… what does that even mean?” asked John.
Rose Psychic shook her head disdainfully. “Let them explain, and stop interrupting, John. You’d think you were raised in a barn, an attitude like yours.”
John swallowed hard, and took a step back. “Sorry, Rose,” he said. It was the first sign of respect he’d shown through this whole ordeal, but Rose had that kind of effect on people. Zee laughed inwardly, but didn’t let John see. When this was all over-- if they all survived-- she must invite Rose and Richard over for dinner.
DEEP SPACE:
“It’s a story… a story your father used to tell…” said Meteor, sifting through Spectrum’s deepest memories.
“Could you guys hurry up? This place is creepy as balls,” said Cat from his side of the corridor, glancing back over his shoulder as the others worked. “I’m a thief, not a… rear guard? What the hell kind of work is this, shrimp?”
Minuteman rolled his eyes. “Let them work, Kyle. Jeez. And I’m not a shrimp.”
Meteor continued, his eyes clamped shut. “Thunder… they come from… from a barren place… they… they’re the opposite of…”
The psychic link between the pair was broken as Stars and Stripe were thrown backwards toward them by a hulking figure that moved impossibly fast and ambushed the group of Young All-Stars without warning. Spectrum raised a hand and projected a shield of emerald energy, while Cat and Minuteman rushed toward them.
“Apart… from the bridge… you’re… the only… holdouts…” growled the newcomer, two bolts of lightning clasped in his hands. He was muscular and angry-looking, which was a weird juxtaposition considering he was wearing the same shorts as the other invaders had been wearing, and his dark pink skin caused his yellow, bug-eyes to bulge even more.
“Oh, I know what they are,” whispered Spectrum.
“Who? Who the hell are they?” asked Cat.
“…Thunderers of Qward.”
The Thunderer cast a bolt toward the emerald shield Spectrum had projected, and it exploded into heavy green shards, rubble lining the corridor. “We… don’t want… children.”
There was another explosion behind the All-Stars, though the pitch and tenor of this one was a lot more familiar. Minuteman turned and was relieved to see a familiar face step out. “I think we’re going to be okay, guys.”
Decked out in his body armour, Jason Todd, aka the Red Hood, looked up at the Thunderer and shook his masked head. Instead of addressing their enemy, he looked down at the All-Stars. “You all know you’re in big trouble, right?”
“Don’t care… who you are… you’re… fodder!” bellowed the Thunderer, angry at being ignored.
“And you look like you’re on steroids, mister,” said Red Hood. He pulled his pistols from their holsters and fired two shots off, and the non-lethal rounds struck the Thunderer in his hands, causing him to drop the lightning bolts he’d drawn from his holster. “Kids! We need to move!”
The group hustled around the corner, and sprinted toward the bridge of the ship. The giant Thunderer of Qward cursed them and tried to barrel toward them, but salvos from the Red Hood’s guns caused him to back off.
“Professor Todd, we’re really sorry,” said Patricia, her cosmic bands buzzing up to full power after she’d recovered from the initial attack.
“We’re not in school right now, Stars. Call me Red Hood. Lightning Bug told me everything! I should Boom Tube you straight into detention, but we can do good here, so let’s do what we trained you for, okay? Meteor, can you still sense your dad?”
“Yes, he’s on the bridge, but he’s in trouble,” said Meteor, touching his temple.
“Okay, you need to get there, then. Spectrum, take the lead. Defensive positions always. Stars, you have the rear. Shields up at all times. Meteor, if you sense danger round a corner, take another one. Don’t let those lightning bolts hit you, they’ll transport you to god knows where. Got it?”
“What about you, sir?” asked Minuteman.
“I have to take care of that pain in the ass who started a fight with my kids,” said Jason. He checked his pistols, and they could tell he was smiling. “You wanna know the great thing?”
“Uh, what would that be?” asked Cat.
“My knee doesn’t even hurt,” said Jason, as he broke off from the kids and headed back toward the gigantic Thunderer. He’d have thought he would have learned by now, but no, he kept doing this. He’d mangled his leg a couple of years back, before this class joined the academy, when the entire school had been snatched up and thrown into Lady Styx’s Colosseum He knew he should have turned tail and got the kids back to safety, but he asked himself what he would have done in the same situation, and knew that he wouldn’t be able to change their minds. So, all he could do was make sure they had as even a playing field as possible.
The large Thunderer stood in the middle of the corridor, growling as the Red Hood made his return. “Oh, honey. Did you lose your breath? Get a bit gassed?”
The Thunderer shook his head, and removed his quiver of thunderbolts from his back, casting them to the ground like it was a challenge. He cracked his knuckles, and then his neck with an almighty noise that made Jason wince. “You… will die… now.”
“I highly doubt it,” said Red Hood, raising his pistols. "It's never stuck before!"
THE PHANTOM ZONE:
Images and feelings but no substance and no ground and no up and no down and black is white and white is black but there is no colour nor is there the absence of colour, just the void, the chasm, the ghostly ethereal realm where nothing is real and everything means nothing, the hidden place that was found so long ago an utilised as a prison where the worst of the worst were sent even though there were things even deadlier inside its darkest recesses if it had darkness or it had recesses but it is everything and everywhere and it is--
Another dimension. The ultimate purgatory of punishment and exile. A timeless sensory deprivation tank that, in time... will drive any prisoner mad.
{Kara? Kara Zor-El, is that you?}
A far-off voice caused Kara’s eyes to snap open, but she could see nothing. She remembered why that would be quickly, and she would have cried if she had the opportunity. But no, now was not the time for tears. That voice… familiar… distant…
“Hello?” she whispered. But no noise came from her mouth. She was drowning in nothingness. Of course. She couldn’t see or smell or hear in this place, but that voice spoke to her, didn’t it? The sensory deprivation of the Phantom Zone was horrible, the uncertainty, the unknowing… the voice spoke to her, but she couldn’t speak back… what if…
{hello?} she thought.
{Kara, try not to move. I’m coming to you. It’s okay. We can figure this out.}
Something touched her. How could that be? Nothing had weight or substance in the Phantom Zone, but when something was slipped over her face, the world snapped into focus. A familiar face became clear as her eyes adjusted beneath the goggles, and she began to see form in the void.
{Mon? Is that you?} she asked.
Wearing the same kind of goggles as her, the Daxamite known as Mon-El nodded, and reached out to her. With her eyes covered by lenses that allowed her to see in this place, she half expected to watch his hand pass through her own, but she felt his fingers, his body heat, and while she was confused, she didn’t question it. He pulled her through the void, until they came across a craggy outcropping deeper in the Phantom Zone. They pushed through a strange membrane, and were spat out onto a physical space, and Kara was surprised to find herself breathing.
“Where…” Words slipped from her mouth before she knew they could be heard. “Where are we?”
Mon checked the goggles on her face and smiled, confident they were working. “There are islands of physical space in the Phantom Zone. Places where the material world intersect with the immaterial. They are few and far between, but once you find them once, you can find them again.”
“Like… like Fort Rozz?”
Her father used to tell her stories, horror stories that were true, that he probably shouldn’t have told her when she was so young, but much to her mother, Alura’s, chagrin. Fort Rozz was a Kryptonian prison for criminals that were to be sentenced to the Phantom Zone. A savage criminal by the name of Dev-Em caused a riot to break out before the administrators could activate the Phantom Zone Projector, and in the midst of the chaos, it exploded and the entire prison was transferred directly into the Phantom Zone.
Kara had been there once, before Kal had left Earth. She didn’t like to think about it. Bad things happened there, and she tried her best not to linger on them. But this didn’t look like Fort Rozz, so where, or what, was it exactly?
“It’s the edge of the zone. I didn’t think it was possible to find one, but I did.”
“The edge?”
“Yes, I know, it’s a formless place, but I found this wall… like a membrane. I’ve tried breaking through it, but the powers I gained on Earth are absent here.”
“Membrane?” Kara squinted to look past it, but her super-vision failed her. She pinched herself sharply, and managed to draw blood. Her powers were gone. “Wait! The Black Zero!”
She looked around frantically, a jolt of fear racing through her.
“The what?” said Mon.
“I pushed it back into the zone when it tried to enter Earth through the Fortress. That’s why… how… I’m here. Proto-Kryptonian shamans banished it to a spirit world-- it must have been the Phantom Zone-- and I… was there anything else with me when you found me?”
“No. Nothing. It must have dissipated after re-entry. You know the laws of physics are completely out of whack here. Kara. Listen to me. I brought you here for a reason. The membrane-- you can see into the real world here. At any point. But the timeline… it’s shrunk. There’s no past. There’s no future. Time is being devoured. I used to… I used to watch my adventures with the Legion, to give me some semblance of hope in this void… but I can’t see them anymore. I don’t have a future. None of us do.”
“We have to get out. We have to stop this,” said Superwoman.
“But how, Kara? We’re trapped. We don’t have a physical body, or powers, in this place. We’re not going anywhere!”
Kara pressed her hands up against the membrane and then tapped her head against the hard, crystalline surface. She was trapped. There was no way out. The only working Phantom Zone projector in known existence had blown up during her entry into the void. Mon was here, so that was something, and she was physical, so that was something else, but still… trapped was trapped. “Lena. Please. Save me.”
TO BE CONTINUED
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