"Are we there yet?" the crocodile asked. He covered his eyes with his hands.
"Almost!" Osiris promised as he carried Sobek through the sky. He had named the nervous reptile himself, after the sacred crocodile god of ancient Egypt. Moisture sprayed against their faces as they descended through layers of dense cloud cover before emerging into the sunlight beneath the clinging mist. "Look! There it is!"
Titans Tower rose from an island in the middle of the harbor, within view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Landscaped gardens surrounded the gleaming T-shaped skyscraper, which was home to the world's most famous team of young super heroes: the Teen Titans.
Osiris couldn't wait to meet them.
It was Visitors' Day at the Tower, and throngs of teenagers, tourists, and more than a few adults were lined up to get the heroes' autographs and perhaps have their pictures taken with their favorite Titans. Robin, Beast Boy, Raven, Speedy, Wonder Girl, Cyborg, and Captain Marvel Jr. greeted their fans at the top of a winding stone pathway that led from a ferry dock up to the Tower. A bronze statue of the team's founding members, damaged in the Crisis several months ago, had already been, restored. Osiris recognized his fellow heroes from the news. Most of them were teen sidekicks following in the footsteps of their more famous mentors, fust like me and Black Adam, he thought. Despite their varied origins, he imagined that he had much in common with the remarkable young people below. We're sure to be great friends!
Startled gasps and shouts greeted him as he and Sobek swooped down from the sky. "Hello!" he called out to Beast Boy and the others. "My name is Osiris. I've come to join the Teen Titans."
He deposited Sobek onto the ground in front of the Titans. A plus-sized polyester jogging suit had replaced the tattered rags the crocodile had been wearing when Osiris first found him. He was determined that both he and
Sobek would make a good first impression. Nevertheless, frightened tourists and autograph seekers backed away from the large walking crocodile. If not for the reassuring presence of the Teen Titans, he suspected that the petrified mortals would have been fleeing in terror from the menacing reptile in their midst.
"Don't be afraid," he assured the crowd. "This is just Sobek, the talking crocodile." Back in Kahndaq, the palace staff had also been alarmed by Sobek at first. Osiris touched down onto the pathway next to the crocodile. "He's my best friend."
Sobek cowered timidly behind Osiris. "They're still afraid of me."
"They're the Teen Titans," Osiris told the bashful reptile. "They're not scared of anything."
"Yes, they are." Captain Marvel Jr. stepped forward and pointed at Osiris. The golden lightning bolt on his chest matched the one on Osiris' own uniform. "They're scared of you."
"Me?" Osiris said. "That's funny." He was excited to meet his American counterpart again. "My sister speaks highly of you and the rest of the Marvels." He gave little thought to the other youth's accusation. Osiris had seen enough American sitcoms to know that Western teens often teased each other, all in good sport. "I suppose you are joking.../'
Captain Marvel Jr. shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry about this, Osiris, but ..He looked uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leav'e."
"Leave?" Osiris didn't understand. "But I was hoping I could try out for your team." His eyes searched the faces of the other Titans, but none of them seemed inclined to challenge their teammate's decision. "I thought Sobek and I could meet some more friends. I was hoping you and I ..." His voice trailed off as his dreams of friendship seemed to be carried away by the brisk winter wind.
"I know the changes Black Adam has gone through," Captain Marvel Jr. conceded. "And I know a lot of that has to do with you and your sister." Osiris heard regret in his voice, but not uncertainty. His mind was made up. "I was at your sister's wedding. I saw your family take down Sabbac on Halloween. But that doesn't change the fact that the head of your family ripped a man in half on live television in the name of his old-school brand of justice."
"But I haven't done anything wrong!" Osiris protested. He couldn't believe how unfair this was. "I've only helped people. My whole family helps people everyday!" •
"It's true/' Sobek added. "Why just yesterday Osiris built a hospital in every village in southern Modora. And he painted them a lovely shade of green too!"
Osiris appreciated his friend's support. "We're only trying to make this world a better place."
But as he looked over the faces of the crowd, their suspicious expressions and fearful postures struck him through the heart like an enchanted spear. Mothers clung tightly to their children. Scowling visitors clenched their fists, or flinched before his gaze. Even the other Titans seemed to regard him warily, as though he might be some sinister super-villain attempting to infiltrate their ranks. Cyborg's sonic cannon hummed ominously. Speedy, Green Arrow's sidekick, drew an arrow from her quiver. Wonder Girl unhooked her golden lasso from her belt. Robin, the Boy Wonder, examined him dubiously. Beast Boy morphed into a belligerent green gorilla.
Hadn't the Titans been betrayed by a double agent once before? Osiris vaguely remembered reading about a former Titan, a girl named Terra, who had turned out to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. No wonder they're not willing to trust me!
At least Captain Marvel Jr. seemed to be taking his pleas seriously. After mulling it over for a few moments, the American hero extended his hand to Osiris. "Convince the rest of the world of that," he promised, "and I'll help you join the Teen Titans."
Osiris shook the other youth's hand. The deal was less than he had anticipated when he left Kahndaq this morning, but at least it held out some hope for the future. All he needed to do now was find some way to show the world that the Black Marvel Family meant them no harm.
But how on earth was he supposed to do that?
Christmas Eve, and the yuletide celebrations were underway in Cathedral Square. A ninety-foot-tall Norway spruce presided over the festivities, its evergreen branches bedecked by over thirty thousand sparkling lights. The magnificent tree was topped by a brand-new Swarovski crystal star, replacing the one Catwoman stole last year. A children's choir, warmly bundled up against the winter chill, serenaded the city with Christmas carols. Their angelic voices rang out across the Square. Last-minute shoppers scurried down the sidewalks, clutching their bags and packages. An avalanche of snowflakes gave all of Gotham a white Christmas.
Batwoman observed the holiday scene from the rooftop of Wayne Tower. Her cape blew in the wind as she took a moment to enjoy the music wafting up from below. Too bad I can't count on Intergang to take the night off, she mused. Alas, organized crime was no respecter of holiday traditions—and neither was Bruno Mannheim. God only knows what kind of perverted holidays are celebrated by the Cult of Crime.
"Merry Christmas."
The voice startled her, and she spun around to see Nightwing drop lightly onto the snow-covered rooftop. She relaxed and assumed a less aggressive posture, both impressed and dismayed that the masked hero had managed to sneak up on her so easily.
Unlike the Intergang assassin she had dispatched a few minutes ago.
Nightwing glanced down at the unconscious puma-man lying at her feet. The monster's feline muzzle was bloodied. A broken fang rested upon the snow. "Looks like someone is lacking the spirit of the season."
She shrugged. "I think the spirit is upon him now."
Nightwing laughed out loud. "Somehow I doubt that it's visions of sugar plums he's seeing at the moment." He reached behind his back and drew out a small, gift-wrapped package. A bright red bow and ribbon stood out against the metallic green wrapping paper. He held out the present. "For the Bat who has every thing."
"Mannheim's address?" she said hopefully.
"Still working on that one," he admitted, handing her the gift. "Go on. Open it."
Batwoman opened the package and peeked inside. A sleek black silhouette rested atop a velvet cushion. "Another Batarang." She lifted the weapon from the box. "How ... nice."
She hoped she didn't sound too much like a kid who had just gotten socks for Christmas.
"This isn't just another Batarang," he insisted. Her lack of enthusiasm didn't seem to bother him. "This is a real Batarang, not one of those homemade models you've been tossing about."
"It's lovely," she dissembled. Embarrassed, she tried to smooth things over. "I don't mean..."
He reached out for the Batarang. "Here. Give me." He carefully fingered the weapon, testing its sharpness. "Composite-graphite molded. Unbreakable to ten thousand psi. Laser-honed, never loses its edge." He sounded like a late-night TV huckster extolling the virtues of some new miracle product. "Aerodynamically tested, perfectly balanced, and if you throw it right..
With a flick of his wrist, he sent the Batarang whistling past her head. "Hey!" Batwoman yelped. The spinning missile executed a graceful arc above the Square before swooping back towards Nightwing's waiting fingertips.
"Returning." He plucked the weapon deftly out of the air. "So, no. Not really just another Batarang."
"Wow," Batwoman murmured, genuinely impressed. Where can I get some more of those things?
Nightwing handed the Batarang back to her. "Merry Christmas."
She decided not to spoil the moment by explaining that she was Jewish.
The polished silver menorah gleamed in the window of Kate's apartment as Renee watched the sun come up. Hanukkah had ended the night before. Kate had made a big deal of it, cooking latkes and even laying out jelly doughnuts for dessert. Vic had actually been lucid for most of the meal, even though he hadn't been able to keep any of it down. Kate said she did it because that's how her family celebrated Hanukkah, at least before her dad remarried. That was probably true, but Renee knew that wasn't why she had really done it. Hanukkah was a celebration of a miracle.
And, boy, could we use one of those right now, Renee thought.
"Upon the stair, I met a man who was not there. He was not there again today. I wish to gosh he'd go away."
Vic staggered out of his room, clearly delirious. A fluffy cotton bathrobe failed to conceal just how much he had wasted away over the last few weeks. His gaunt, haggard countenance, with its sunken sockets and cracked lips, was enough to make her miss the blank-faced mask he used to wear. He tottered unsteadily upon his feet. The soles of his slippers shuffled against the carpet.
Lunging forward, he grabbed onto Renee's shoulders. "I've got the answers, Myra!" he said feverishly. His bloodshot eyes stared urgently into hers, but were obviously seeing someone else. "The answer for both of us. It's been so simple, so obvious. Leave Hub City...
Not for the first time, Renee wondered who this "Myra" was and what she had once meant to Vic. She was ashamed by how little she knew about the life he'd led before they met. "Charlie . . ." She held onto him gently, afraid that he would fall and hurt himself. His arms felt shockingly light and fragile.
"I know that's what we should do," he insisted. "Mommy told me ..
Renee wondered if Vic's mother was even still alive. Hadn't he said something about growing up in an orphanage?
She should have been used to his incoherent rambling by now. He was delirious most of the time these days. It was the only way he could escape the pain. Still, seeing him like this, hearing him converse with phantoms from his past, tore her heart out every time. It's not fair. He didn't used to be like this.
"Made out of pseudoderm ... binder toxic under certain conditions ... blood poisoning ..." He ran his bony fingers over his face, as though feeling a mask that wasn't there anymore. "Tot... did you know this would happen...?”_
"Charlie." She tried to guide him back to his room, but he wasn't hearing her at all. He pulled in the opposite direction. "Let's get you back in bed."
He broke her hold with an elegant jujitsu move. "What's your name? I didn't ever hear your name...."
"It's Renee, Charlie. I'm right here." She wrestled him through the doorway into his room, which was now set up for hospice care. The IV stand and oxygen tanks had been joined by an ample supply of morphine, packaged in disposable syringes. With all the bottled oxygen on hand, she couldn't light up a cigarette even if she still wanted to. A nicotine patch helped keep the craving at bay. "I'm still with you."
Wild eyes locked on hers. For a moment, she thought that maybe he recognized her, but then he shoved her roughly away from him. "I'm sorry. I tried, I really tried ... I'm so sorry about Jackie." Weeping, he dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. Guilt wracked his skeletal features. "I loved her like she was ours, Myra ... I loved her like I loved you...."
Renee got down beside him. She wrapped his arm over her shoulders and helped him to his feet, even as he continued to pour out his heart to his long-lost Myra. "I couldn't say it. You could say it, but I never said it...." Tears trickled down his face. "I love you...."
"I love you too," Renee said. She tucked him into bed, making sure the blankets were snug around him. Her weary body dropped into a chair next to the bed. She buried her face in her hands as, exhausted, Vic slowly drifted off to sleep. "Going to play in the snow now...."
Kate appeared in the doorway. She had changed out of her Batwoman gear into a sweater and slacks. Her auburn hair fell past her shoulders. Renee looked up from the chair. I didn't even hear her come in.
From the sound of Vic's labored breathing, she guessed that he was down for awhile. Moving quietly, so as not to wake him, she joined Kate in the living room. Utterly drained, but too distraught to sleep, she plopped down onto the Italian leather couch in front of the picture window. Kate placed a steaming mug on the platinum/silver coffee table. "Some hot cider might make you feel better," she suggested.
"Only if you added some bourbon to it," Renee said dryly.
Kate shrugged. "I didn't, but I can if you like." She reached for the mug.
"No." Renee pushed her hand away from the cider. Seeking refuge in a bottle wasn't going to do Vic any good; her sojourn in Nanda Parbat had taught her that much. "Seems that all the problems I have when I start drinking are still there when I stop."
Kate sat down beside her, close enough that Renee could lean against her. "You gave him peace. You should be glad for that."
"I am," Renee said. "I just wish I could get a little for myself."
Kate gazed at her, her captivating brown eyes full of sympathy. Reaching out, she gently lifted Renee's chin and bent her head down. Her lips found Renee's, and the two women shared a tender kiss. Over a decade had passed since the last time they'd done this, but, for the moment, Kate's lips were just as warm and welcoming as before. What does this mean? Renee wondered briefly, then decided not to worry about it. Right now, it was enough that Kate was here for her. Renee closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment.
"It stopped snowing," Kate said when they finally came apart. Renee rested her head on Kate's shoulder as they cuddled on the couch. The early morning sunlight glinted off the silver menorah in the window. Candle flames flickered warmly.
"Merry Christmas, Renee."
Ice skaters looked up in amazement as the Black Marvel Family soared over the Centennial Park skating rink on their way to the Kahndaqi embassy Christmas decorations adorned the facades of the buildings ahead. Black Adam recalled his last visit to the embassy when he had executed Rough House before a mob of reporters and demonstrators. Today's excursion had a very different agenda, about which he had serious reservations.
"I remain unconvinced of the wisdom of this move," he said grimly. Leaving the park behind, they flew above snow-covered streets.
"But you've seen the way people look at us outside Kahndaq," Osiris reminded him. Sobek dangled below Osiris as the boy carried the crocodile along with them. Afraid of heights, Sobek covered his eyes with his scaly forefeet. His tail swished nervously. "They're afraid of us! Everywhere we go, the people say terrible things about us. I thought Sobek was going to cry when the Teen Titans wouldn't let us join their team!"
Isis sympathized with her brother and his pet. "A crocodile's tears are nothing to ignore, Adam," she advised her husband.
"Please, Adam," Osiris begged. "Captain Marvel Jr. said I can join the Titans—if we can convince the world you've changed."
Black Adam scowled. What did he care of the world's opinion? I have nothing to apologize for.
Isis seemed to read his mind. "You tore a man apart on live TV. Rough House was a criminal, but he was still a man. As a result, and because of your efforts to build a power base to oppose the West, you have made many enemies."
"None I cannot defend myself against," he insisted.
"But your enemies have become mine and Osiris'." She glanced over at the innocent youth, who smiled cheerfully at the gaping pedestrians below. A few Americans smiled back, but most shrunk away in fear from the flying boy and the fearsome-looking crocodile. "Do you think he can handle that? And more importantly, should he have to?"
Adam looked at Osiris as well. Perhaps his wife had a point. Was it fair that the carefree youth should be ostracized because of the actions of another? I have chosen to tvage war on evil, regardless of the consequences, but Osiris should be free to forge his own destiny... and reputation.
A large dais had been erected in front of the embassy gates. Kahndaqi flags festooned the stage, while a festive wreath acknowledged that it was Christmas Day in the eyes of the Americans. Despite the holiday, a large crowd had gathered outside the embassy. As during his appearance here last summer, throngs of reporters and protestors were held back by police barricades and security personnel. Unlike before, however, Black Adam saw a few signs in support of his recent activities. WE V ISIS! read one homemade banner. On the other hand, a sign denouncing MAGICAL TERRORISM proved that not everyone had been won over by his family's humanitarian efforts.
He was surprised at the sheer size of the crowd. "Who invited all these people?"
"I did," Isis explained. "The world will see us all as monsters unless we show them otherwise." Her kohl-lined eyes implored him. "For Osiris, Adam."
Reluctantly, he joined his family as they descended toward the stage. Sobek gratefully dropped onto the dais, while the Black Marvel Family hovered in the air a few feet above the platform. Frowning, Adam crossed his arms atop his chest.
"This will cause him great pain," Adam reminded Isis.
"It's okay. I'm ready," Osiris insisted. An aide from the embassy pushed a wheelchair beneath the boy. "I'm ready to show the world!"
" And he does it with a smile," Isis observed proudly. She beamed at Adam. "So can we." .
Very well, he resolved. If this is what my family truly desires, I shall not deny them this chance at happiness. He owed them that much, for all the joy and satisfaction they had brought into his own life. He raised his voice to address the crowd: ,
"I have come here today—I have brought my family here today—to show you that underneath the powers of gods long neglected, we are as human as the rest of you." He nodded at Isis and Osiris, who smiled back at him. As one, they recited the magic words that transformed each of them.
"Shazam!"
"Black Adam!" .
"Oh Mighty Isis!"
Mystical lightning bolts struck in unison, brighter than any artificial Christmas star. The audience gasped in wonder. Sobek recoiled from a spray of magical sparks. Thunder echoed through the concrete canyons of Metropolis.
When the blinding glare faded, Black Adam and his family no longer levitated above the stage. Instead they stood upon the wooden platform like the mere mortals they had become. Adrianna's gossamer raiment had transformed into a simple cotton dress, while Teth-Adam was clad in the loin cloth and striped head cloth of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh. Amon sagged pitifully within the confines of his wheelchair, his mangled limbs no longer capable of supporting his weight. He grimaced in pain, but did not complain. Adam was impressed by the boy's courage.
Their meager garments were ill-suited to the cold of winter. Adam shivered and placed an arm around Isis to warm her. "I realize that it will be very difficult for most of you to look beyond my harsh actions on these grounds many months ago, but let the coming new year mark a new beginning between Kahndaq and the West, one of mutual respect and assistance. My family and I pledge to be worthy of your trust."
A smattering of cheers and applause greeted his declaration. Not everyone in the crowd reacted so positively, but Teth-Adam saw many more friendly faces than he ever would have anticipated. Although he felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable before the world, perhaps this was not such a futile effort after all?
"Thank you," Adrianna whispered as she held him close.
The day was cold, but his heart felt surprisingly warm.
Belle Reve Federal Prison, hidden away in a muggy, alligator-infested bayou, was more than just a maximum-security holding facility for super-powered criminals. It was also the unofficial headquarters of a black-ops government task force codenamed "the Suicide Squad."
"Worthy of your trust."
Live coverage of the media event at the Kahndaqi embassy played upon a large flat screen monitor mounted to the wall of a soundproof chamber deep inside the prison. Black Adam's stirring oration emerged from the speakers. Atom-Smasher recognized Adam's distinctive accent and cadences.
"Listen to him, Waller." Al Rothstein was a former member of the Justice Society of America, now serving time for taking the law into his own hands. A featureless blue hood concealed his face. A stylized atomic diagram was embroidered upon the chest of his dark red tunic. "He's changed."
Amanda Waller snorted in derision. Aheavysetblack woman in a business suit, she ran the Suicide Squad with an iron grip. "Because he's settling down? Do you really believe a wife, a kid brother, and a talking reptile have turned this magical dictator into a peace-loving preacher?" She shook her head at Atom-Smasher's naivete. "You were there when he 'liberated' Kahndaq."
Al nodded. In fact, he had fought beside Adam in that struggle, before he'd decided to turn himself in for the crimes he had committed while allied with Adam. "And back then he never let anyone see him in his human form."
"So you expect the boys in Washington to breathe a sigh of relief because he's standing on stage in his underwear?" Her mind was clearly made up, and not in Adam's favor. "He's the most powerful international terrorist in the world. He has to be brought in."
A third voice entered the discussion, one with a pronounced Eastern European accent. "And now we know he has a weakness. His entire family does."
"Everyone has a weakness," Waller declared. "That's why all of you ended up in Belle Reve."
"But we signed the papers," a fourth voice protested. An Australian accent colored the indignant words. "We join your little team, do this errand, and our life sentences vanish like lightning."
A gleaming metal boomerang whizzed past Waller's head. It ricocheted off the monitor screen before zipping past her again.
Waller didn't even blink. "I heard you were smart," she said scornfully. "I still don't see it."
"You will, gorgeous." The missile returned to its owner's waiting fingers. Captain Boomerang, a cocky red-haired rogue wearing a black leather jacket and his trademark blue scarf, loitered alongside the other inmates Waller had recruited for this mission: Plastique, Count Vertigo, the Persuader, and the Electrocutioner. "As soon as the Suicide Squad wish the Black Marvel Family a happy bloody holiday."
"I see them," Count Vertigo reported. He employed a pair of high-powered binoculars to spy on Black Adam and Isis as they flew over Redwood National Forest. His green velvet cloak swept the mossy floor of the forest. The verdant canopy of the trees concealed him from view. Fog drifted through the lower reaches of the vast redwoods. “Intel was right. They're coming to meet him after his first day at Titans Tower and they're..." He hesitated, as though taken aback by what he saw.
"They're what, Vertigo?" Amanda Waller demanded via a comm-link. The mastermind behind the task force was monitoring the operation from her headquarters back at Belle Reve.
"They're holding hands," he divulged. Soaring above the towering sequoias, the romantic couple hardly looked like threats to world peace. Count Werner Vertigo felt a twinge of sympathy for Black Adam; the rightful heir to the throne of his own native Vlatavia, he identified with the forbidding Arab monarch. But mine is not to reason why, he thought bitterly. He was only a convict now, not a king. Amanda Waller was calling the shots today.
"Do you have a visual on the boy and his pet yet, Boomerbutt?" she asked another of her operatives.
"Quit calling me that," the young man protested. Over a dozen specialized boomerangs were tucked into the man's belt and jacket pouches. A long blue scarf was draped over his shoulder. He swaggered through the underbrush.
" 'Cause 'Captain Boomerang' is so much classier," chortled a burly figure clad head to toe in futuristic steel armor. His metal gauntlets gripped the haft of a glowing Atomic Axe.
"Shut up, Persuader," Boomerang snapped at his teammate. Extracting a polished silver boomerang from a pouch, he sent it spinning into tire trunk of a venerable redwood, where it lodged in the tree's thick bark. Intricate circuitry flashed along the length of the boomerang. "Osiris and Sobek left the Tower five minutes ago," he informed Waller. "They're still in range, but my electromagnetic boomerang will jam their Titans communicators."
"Good," Waller replied. Miniature earpieces conveyed her voice to the entire team. "Then it's up to Plastique and the Electrocutioner to start the fire and give Atom-Smasher his opening."
"We're on it," the Electrocutioner agreed. A black bandana, with two matching eyeholes, covered the upper half of his face like a mask. His insulated red costume was wired to deliver lethal electrical charges via his metallic copper gloves. "Just remember our deal. We bring in the Black Marvels and our records go clean." '
"So what are you waiting for, lover?" Plastique asked. Her hot pink PVC bodysuit gave no hint of the massive explosive energies at her command. Long red hair cascaded over her shoulders. A French Canadian accent testified to her past as a Quebecois terrorist. "I'm the explosive. You're the detonator." She gave him a saucy wink. "Tickle me."
The Electrocutioner grinned back at her. High-voltage sparks crackled around his fingertips. "Yeah, baby!"
He reached out to touch her....
"Adam! Isis!"
Osiris called out to his family as he saw them flying toward him. His spirits were as high as his altitude, many feet above the treetops. He carried Sobek beneath him, holding onto the crocodile with both hands. The shredded state of Sobek's jogging suit hinted at a furious battle.
"Osiris!" his sister greeted him. "How was your first day?"
"Unbelievable!" he enthused. "Robin gave us a tour. I have my own locker and my own Titans communicator!"
Sobek climbed onto his friend's shoulders, having seemingly overcome his fear of heights. "And after we helped Kid Eternity stop the Keeper's plan for controlling the dead, Raven conjured up some wonderful ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch!"
"Sobek ate twelve," Osiris said.
Isis laughed at the crocodile's appetite. "Oh, Sobek."
"Despite our demonstration last week," Black Adam observed cautiously, "many are still condemning my actions in and out of Kahndaq."
It was typical of Black Adam to add a somber note to the conversation, but Osiris chose not to begrudge his brother-in-law his dour attitude. He ap-predated everything Adam had already done on his behalf. "Your speech was enough for the Titans to give me a shot." Captain Marvel Jr. had been true to his word, arguing for Osiris' admission to the team. "The world will come around. They'll see all the good we're going to do."
The happy family hovered in midair... until a sudden explosion blasted them apart. Stunned by the shock wave, they plummeted toward the forest below. A giant hand snatched Black Adam out of the sky. A gigantic figure expanded in height, until he towered over the mighty redwoods.
"We need to talk, Adam," Atom-Smasher boomed.
"Albert?" Black Adam gasped as the colossal fingers closed around him. Dazed by the explosion, he struggled in vain to escape the giant's grip. The Brobdingnagian fist squeezed him like a vise. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm doing what I have to, Adam." His rueful tone made it clear that he took no pleasure in attacking his former comrade. "You can't ignore what you've done in the past. You need to turn yourself in."
He slammed Black Adam down onto the floor of the forest, over three hundred feet below. The thick mulch covering the ground did little to soften the impact of the blow. Ignited by the explosion, a wildfire spread across the woods, feeding on the dense carpet of mosses and lichens. Frightened birds and animals fled from the flames. Smoke rose from burning shrubs and trees.
Anger flared inside Adam as he rocketed out from beneath Atom-Smasher's hand. A titanic blow sent the oversized hero tumbling backward, toppling a stand of giant sequoias, many of which were almost as old as Black Adam himself. Massive redwoods snapped like twigs. The wanton destruction of the ancient trees only enraged Adam more.
"I will not turn myself in to a hypocritical government to be judged as you have. To rot in a cell while there is still so much work to be done." He had been greatly disappointed in Albert Rothstein when the American had let his squeamish conscience undermine his resolve. Black Adam had no intention of making the same mistake.
"Murder is a sin that can't be washed away," Atom-Smasher insisted. A gargantuan hand reached out for Adam, who dodged the hand with the speed of Heru. He flew out of range of the log-sized fingers.
"I have already asked for forgiveness," Adam said. "In some eyes, that is enough."
Climbing back onto his feet, Atom-Smasher rose to his full height once more. Over sixty stories tall, he loomed like a colossus over the foggy old-growth forest. Fists as large as boulders were raised menacingly. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Albert," Black Adam warned him, "you won't."
He drew back his fist.
Osiris landed hard upon the forest floor. The fall alone would have killed any ordinary mortal; only his god-given endurance had ensured his survival. His ears were ringing as he slowly sat up amidst the squashed ferns and fungi. Scorch marks defaced his uniform. Green-tinted sunlight filtered through the dense canopy overhead. Firs and hemlocks were interspersed between the sky-high sequoias. Smoke tickled in his nostrils. He looked about in confusion, unclear what had befallen him. Are zoe under attack?
He spotted Sobek sprawled upon the ground nearby. To his relief, the crocodile appeared to be in one piece as well. Groaning, Sobek massaged his bleeding snout. The explosion had blown away most of his clothing; only a few raggedy scraps clung to his scaly body. His tail twitched spasmodically.
What about Isis and Adam? Osiris fretted. He heard a rustling in the bushes and looked up hopefully, only to see a trio of villains advancing on him instead. He recognized them from the Titans data files Captain Marvel Jr. had e-mailed to him prior to the meeting. The wisdom of Zehuti allowed Osiris to swiftly pluck the renegades' names from his memory.
"There's the kid and his monster," the Electrocutioner snarled at his cohorts. Lightning arced between his outstretched fingertips.
"Suicide Squad's job doesn't include animal control," Plastique objected. Was she the source of the explosion that had knocked them out of the sky? Her file said that she had reformed, but clearly that information was out-of-date.
Captain Boomerang shrugged. "So cook the croc," he said callously.
Plastique aimed one hand at Sobek and beckoned to the Electrocutioner with the other. No! Osiris thought, determined to save his friend. He leapt to his feet, but his legs felt like rubber and darkness encroached on his vision. He could barely stand up, let alone come to Sobek's rescue. Plastique was about to kill his best friend and there was nothing he could do!
Before the scarlet-haired terrorist could unleash her destructive blast, however, an immense shadow suddenly fell over the misty grove. Looking up, she yelped in alarm and dived out of the wave just as an enormous body came crashing to the ground. A tremor shook the ground. Fallen logs and leafy redwood sorrels were flattened beneath the fallen goliath. Apparently unconscious, Atom-Smasher lay supine across several acres of woodlands. His mammoth chest rose and fell steadily.
"Oh, hell," Plastique swore. Her azure eyes widened as she spotted Captain Boomerang flat on the ground as well. The Australian's right leg was crushed beneath Atom-Smasher's huge skull. An unflung boomerang rested on the mossy sward just beyond his limp fingers. Several more weapons were scattered all around him. He looked dead to the world. "Boomerang?"
The cause of the giant's downfall became clear as Black Adam descended from the sky. His arms crossed atop his chest, he gazed down sternly at the unworthy miscreants who had ambushed his family. His voice was cold and unforgiving. "If you have hurt the boy ..."
"Adam!" Osiris cried out, fearing that his brother's righteous fury would undo all the work they had done to win the world's trust. "Please don't kill them...."
His desperate plea distracted Black Adam long enough for Plastique and the Electrocutioner to launch another attack. "Tickle, tickle," the male villain said with a smirk. His sparking fingers caressed Plastique's shoulder.
A deafening explosion sent Osiris, Adam, and Sobek flying across the woods.
Not far away, Isis confronted the Persuader. "The trees are crying out," she accused. She could hear Nature itself screaming inside her head. The largest and oldest of the redwoods would likely survive the blaze, thanks to their hard outer bark, but the rest of the forest was being burned alive. A flock of panicked wrens and thrushes flapped wildly through the flaming branches above her. She called on the wind to keep the harsh, black smoke away from her.
"You some kind of Greenpeace fanatic?" the armored villain growled. He swung his Atomic Axe at Isis, scarring the burled trunks of the redwoods as he tried to connect with the Egyptian heroine. *
Her superhuman speed and agility kept her one step ahead of the slashing blade. "That axe is radioactive," she sensed. "It is poisoning the very air around us." Thick roots burst from the ground at her command, snaring the Persuader and the axe. He fought to hold onto his weapon as the gnarled roots sought to wrench it from his grasp. "But the roots of these mighty trees will bury it far beneath the earth where it will do no harm."
But a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her, causing her to drop to her knees. Her command over the roots weakened as she lost all sense of balance. The shrieking forest seemed to spin around her. Nausea gripped her and she clenched her jaws to keep from vomiting. I don't understand, she thought. What's happening to me? •
Count Vertigo came floating down from the sky, looking as though he was walking down an invisible staircase. His voluminous cloak rippled behind him as he descended toward Isis, who realized that the masked villain was somehow inducing her illness. "My dear princess. The surveillance photos don't do you justice." He sounded amused by the sight of her kneeling before him. "You truly are lovely."
"Back off, Count!" the Persuader shouted. He hacked himself free of the tangled roots and charged at Isis. His swinging axe drove Vertigo back. "The tree hugger is mine!"
Osiris lifted his head from the mulch and looked around groggily. The Elec-trocutioner went flying past him as Black Adam broke up the lethal twosome who had blasted them only moments ago. Plastique directed her remaining energies at Adam, but the explosive bursts only seemed to be slowing him down. Are we winning, Osiris tried to figure out, or are we still outnumbered? The pervasive smoke and greenery made it hard to tell just how many foes were arrayed against them.
He reached for his Titans communicator to summon reinforcements, only to find a handful of shattered pieces strewn upon the ground around him. "No," he realized. "It's broken...."
An agonized scream came from only a few yards away. "Adrianna!" he cried out, recognizing his sister's voice. Peering through the smoke, he glimpsed Isis scrambling across the ground on all fours, pursued by an armored attacker wielding an enormous glowing axe. She threw up an arm to protect herself and the sharpened edge of the axe sliced through one of her golden bracelets. Her skin sizzled as the irradiated blade cut a deep gash down her arm. A crimson stream gushed from the wound. Pain showed upon her face, which had a sickly greenish tint to it. She looked sick as well as injured.
"They wanted you all alive," the Persuader divulged. He smacked the blunt end of the axe handle into Isis' jaw. Blood sprayed from her lips. He lowered his steel boot onto her back, pressing her face down into the mulch. "But screw that. This is too much fun."
He raised the Atomic Axe high above his head. Osiris realized in horror that the villain was only seconds away from chopping Isis' head off.
"Leave my sister alone!" He launched himself at the Persuader like a missile, his fists out in front of him. Without even thinking about it, he flew straight through the armor-clad criminal, tearing the man's body in half. Steel, flesh, and bone came apart noisily. Gory entrails splattered the grove in all directions. The sundered halves of the Persuader's corpse twitched upon the blood-soaked duff before falling still forever.
It took Osiris a moment or two to grasp what he had just done. He slammed to a halt against the trunk of a sturdy sequoia, then turned around to inspect the damage. The first thing he saw was the upper portion of the Persuader's torso, lying lifelessly on the ground. The assassin's hands were still wrapped around the haft of his axe.
By the gods, Osiris thought, aghast at the carnage. I didn't mean ... I never meant to .. . He felt sick to his stomach. He was a killer now ... just like Black Adam. This was exactly what he had begged Adam not to do.
A horrified gasp came from overhead. Osiris looked up to see Count Vertigo floating above the grisly scene. Gore streaked the man's emerald costume. His face was pale behind his mask. Swallowing hard, Vertigo retreated in a hurry, fleeing into the secluded depths of the forest. Osiris let him go. He stared down at his crimson fists, which were slick with the dead man's blood and juices.
Sobek staggered out of the bushes. His vertical pupils widened at the awful sight before him. "Oh dear," the crocodile murmured.
Osiris dropped to his knees beside the Persuader's remains. "You should've ... you should've left my sister alone!" He buried his face in his hands, his anguished soul crying out in torment. "I wanted to do good...
Isis laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder. No longer ill, she ignored her own injuries as she sought to comfort her brother. A heavy rain began to fall, as though the heavens themselves were weeping at the tragic chain of events. The downpour swiftly doused the wildfire engulfing the forest.
He looked up at her with tears in his eyes. Isis gazed down at him with compassion, refusing to judge him. But her understanding did little to ease his guilty conscience, even as she knelt to embrace him. He wept against his sister's shoulder, while Sobek looked on helplessly. The crocodile wrung his hands.
Black Adam landed nearby. He flung Plastique's and the Electrocutioner's unconscious bodies onto the ground at his feet. His somber eyes took in the heart-breaking tableau before him.
"Let's go home," he stated simply.
Sobek looked surprised at Adam's muted response, like the crocodile had expected Adam to execute the rest of their attackers on the spot. "But..."
"Before anyone else gets hurt," Adam said.
Hidden in the underbrush, Count Vertigo breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the Black Marvel Family fly away. The pouring rain mercifully washed the Persuader's blood from his sodden garments.
"They're leaving," he reported.
"That's all right, Vertigo," Amanda Waller replied from Louisiana. "I never expected the Suicide Squad to actually bring them in. I got what I really needed." Her smug voice held not a trace of remorse for Cole Parker, aka the Persuader. "Video feeds were live and recording."
Vertigo shivered in the rain. He was no saint, but even he was appalled at the woman's cold-bloodedness.
"We pushed the Black Marvels, and they pushed back," Waller said, summing up the mission. "Now we know what they're really capable of."
Clark winced as the hypodermic needle pierced his skin. It was an unfamiliar sensation; less than a year ago, the needle would have snapped against his invulnerable flesh. But he still hadn't recovered from the Crisis, which went a long way toward explaining his current predicament.
He sat tied to a chair, his arms cuffed behind his back. He strained futilely against the bonds, which were more than enough to restrain him in his depleted state. His groans echoed off the soundproof walls of a cell in some undisclosed location. A polygraph was attached to his arms and temples. Two burly thugs watched him with sullen expressions, on hand just in case he managed to get loose somehow. They looked unhappy to be spending New Year's Eve this way. Clark wondered if Lois and the others even knew he was missing yet.
"What's that?" he asked as a third man slid the needle out of Clark's arm. "Sodium pentathol?"
His interrogator, a bald-headed Asian man in a business suit, chuckled at the suggestion. "You're mired in the past, Mr. Kent." He placed the syringe down on a metal tray. "That was gaeamytal. It's as close as modern chemistry can come to synthesizing the unique atomic structure of Wonder Woman's lasso." Clark broke out in a sweat. He felt queasy, like there was kryptonite nearby. "Highly experimental as truth serums go, but then we only have one question for you. One to which you will certainly know the answer, since it concerns the secret identity of your good friend, Superman."
Clark's heart sank. Even if his powers were intact, he wasn't sure he could resist any serum that mimicked the magical properties of Diana's golden lasso. He tried to clench his jaws shut, but the drugged muscles refused to respond. His secret was already poised at the tip of his tongue. Was this the day his enemies finally learned that Clark Kent and Superman were one and the same? I don't know how to stop this!
To his surprise, the interrogator held up a color photo of Supernova. "Tell me, Mr. Kent. Why is the Man of Steel masquerading as Supernova?"
Relief flooded Clark's system. He laughed out loud.
The Asian man scowled. This was clearly not the reaction he had been hoping for. "We're quite serious, Mr. Kent."
"That's what makes it so funny," Clark explained. "Gentlemen, I have absolutely no idea who's under that mask, but the one thing I do know for certain is this: He is not Superman."
And that was nothing but the truth.
"Meurosensors verify that Kent's not lying, Mr. Mannheim."
Bruno watched the interrogation via a closed-circuit camera from his office in Gotham City. Dr. Kim, the Intergang scientist in charge of the operation, reported to Mannheim over the screen. He tugged nervously at his collar.
"The Daily Planet has been using Kent to get exclusive coverage of Supernova," Kim insisted. "There's no better source of information."
Mannheim frowned. This entire exercise had been a waste of time and resources. "Drug Kent," he instructed sourly. "Take him back to his home and let him believe he was interrogated by LexCorp." He drummed his beefy fingertips against the top of his desk. "He's of no further use to us."
Kim nodded. "You were so sure...."
Don't remind me, Mannheim thought irritably. He had been all but certain that Supernova was actually Superman in disguise. But apparently that wasn't the case.... '
"Shut up," he snarled. "And destroy all the evidence."
He cut off the transmission.
GOTHAM CITY.
This was the death watch now.
They had moved Vic into Saint Luke's Hospital shortly before New Year's, after a nerve-shattering seizure had forced Renee to call the paramedics. Now, thanks to Kate, he was installed in a private room in St. Luke's hospice ward. Renee kept vigil at his bedside, watching him bounce between delirium and agony. Only the morphine kept him from screaming.
"Said take five, Freddie Freeloader, said ... that's not the cheese, Izzy, that's ... no, I'm doing ... all right... baby baby baby blues in green ..."
Renee's eyes teared up. She barely recognized him anymore. A month ago he'd been Vic Sage ... "Charlie." He'd been funny and smart and a-royal pain in the ass. He was my best friend in the world, she thought. Then the cancer got busy.
"How high is the moon? Huh? Tell me, butterfly...."
She had thought about ending it, about shooting him so full of morphine that he'd just go to sleep and never wake up. But she knew what he'd say if she could ask him if that was what he wanted.
He'd say no.
It's the last big question for him, she realized. He wouldn't want to miss this. And I'm not going to take it from him.
Instead she leaned over and brushed the hair away from his eyes. His head lolled forward, his jaw hanging open slackly. Stubble showed beneath the nasal cannula assisting his breathing. Electronic hardware monitored his vital signs. An IV bag kept him hydrated. A vase of fresh flowers rested on a nightstand, next to a portable CD player. The air smelled of bleach and antiseptic.
Renee placed his head back against his pillow. An unread issue of Congo Bill World Travel lay open on her lap. The cover story promised rare photos of Africa's famed Gorilla City, but Renee couldn't get past the contents page. A cardboard mailing box, liberally covered with stamps and postage marks from all over the world, sat on the floor by her feet. Similar boxes were stacked over by the window sill. An opened envelope rested atop the latest box. Unable to concentrate on her magazine, she picked up the envelope and skimmed part of the letter inside:
though whether this was due to removing them from Nanda Parbat or from the depredations of the postal service, I can only hope it is the latter. In any event, I have made another trip to the sacred gardens of Rama Kushna. As I said in my last missive, the flowers enclosed are known to the monks for their remarkable curative properties....
Tot's handwriting was as precise and legible as ever. Not that this was likely to do Vic any good. She picked up the box and tilted it toward her, so that its desiccated contents poured into her waiting palm. Instead of magical blooms, crinkly brown powder spilled through her fingers.
Same old story, she thought bitterly. Tot kept sending the flowers in vain, hoping they would survive long enough to help Vic. But they didn't. Outside of Nanda Parbat, their days were numbered. She glanced at the stack of boxes by the window. Outside of Nanda Parbat, all of the flowers had crumbled to dust.
Wait a second. ...
She stiffened as a flash of inspiration, or maybe madness, hit her. She clenched her fist so tightly that not a grain of powder escaped. A look of utter determination came over her face, transforming her weary features. She nodded to herself as a crazy idea drove all other considerations out of her head. Outside Nanda Parbat, the flowers were no good.
But inside... ?
The blurry surveillance photo showed Osiris plowing straight through the Persuader in a gory eruption of blood and guts. No one knew who exactly had leaked the photo to the media, but the world's press had given it front-page coverage, including Kahndaq's own Arabic newspapers. Osiris stared bleakly at the damning photo. Even now, two weeks later, part of him still couldn't accept that the killer in the picture was actually him.
But it is me, he acknowledged guiltily. I really did that. I killed a man. Tore him in half without even thinking about it.
If only it wasn't so!
He sat alone in his bedroom in the palace. The lights were off, but sunlight filtered through the lattice window from outside. An uneaten meal rested by the door, waiting for the servants to spirit it away. He had barely left his room since returning from America. Captain Marvel Jr. had tried to see him, but Osiris had sent him away. He couldn't face Freddy or any of the other Titans, not after what he'd done. He just wanted to be left alone.
"Osiris?"
Sobek nervously peeked into the room.
"I don't want to talk," Osiris told the lurking crocodile.
Sobek entered anyway, bearing an armload of shiny red apples. "Do yoti w-want something to eat? I picked these wonderful apples from your sister's garden." One of the fruits tumbled from the pile and bounced across the floor. "They're as sweet as honey!"
Osiris couldn't care less about the apples. He glumly tossed the newspaper onto his bed. "Adam said it was an ambush, that someone sent those super-villains to try and provoke us." Angry tears spilled from his eyes. "They wanted to show the world that we are nothing more than a family of sadistic murderers!"
"Who would do something so mean?" Sobek asked. His scratched his scaly head. "But you were just trying to save your sister. The world will understand that eventually."
"No, they won't!" Osiris insisted. "They were already afraid of us, even before this happened." The awful truth hit him with the force of a thunderbolt. "They hate us, Sobek! And no matter what we ever do, the entire world will always hate us!"
Sobek's head slumped. Unable to refute the anguished teen's argument, he could only hold out a solitary apple. "I don't hate you."
Osiris smiled sadly, grateful for the crocodile's friendship. He took the apple from the reptile's claws. "Thank you, Sobek."
"This is a bad idea," Kate said.
A faux shearling jacket shielded her from the wet, heavy snow coming down in buckets onto the small private airfield. A chartered medical transport jet, about the size of a small Learjet, was parked on the icy tarmac, several yards away from the sleek black limo that had conveyed them here, despite the hazardous road conditions. The ambulance from St. Luke's had already departed. Concern showed upon Kate's strikingly beautiful face.
Renee shrugged. She opened a foam-lined metal case and counted the syringes inside one more time. She didn't want to run out of morphine before she and Vic reached their destination. Her own winter gear was considerably less stylish than Kate's, consisting of nothing more than a rumpled down parka, gloves, and a pair of snow boots.
"Charlie's almost dead as is," she replied. She closed the case and stuffed it back into her duffel bag. "There's not a hell of a lot I can do to make that worse."
"I'm not talking about him." Kate reached out and placed her hand on Renee's arm. "I'm talking about you ... and I'm thinking this looks an awful lot like denial." .
"No," Renee said fiercely, shaking off Kate's grip. "Not denial. Defiance." She hoisted the bulging duffel bag onto her shoulder and tried to make the other woman understand. "I've lost too many people, Kate."
That wasn't good enough for Kate. "The jet will only take you so far! There are no flights where you're going! No roads!" She grew visibly frustrated as she tried to talk Renee out of her insane itinerary. "You can't hike a dying man up the Himalayas in the middle of the winter!" She was almost pleading now. "The weather alone could kill you both!"
"I know," Renee admitted. She started to turn away from Kate. Vic had already been loaded onto the jet. The sooner they got going, the better her chances were of getting him back to Nanda Parbat in time.
Kate grabbed onto her arm again, harder this time. "Renee, please! Stay with me, help me fight Mannheim." Melting snowflakes glistened like tears upon her ruddy cheeks. "I just got you back in my life. I don't want you walking out again!"
I don't want to, Renee thought fervently Reuniting with Kate had been the only bright spot in these last few weeks. Her lips still held the memory of that magical kiss on Christmas morning. But I don't have any choice.
"He saved me, Kate. He pulled me out of self-pity and despair. I owe him my life." She gently pried Kate's fingers away from her arm. "If there's even a chance that getting Charlie back to Nanda Parbat will save him, then I'll do it... or die trying."
She gazed into Kate's moist brown eyes. This was farewell, maybe forever. She leaned forward and kissed the other woman passionately Defying the freezing temperature, they hungrily shared each other's warmth. A long moment passed before Renee reluctantly pulled away from her long-lostlove. She heard Kate choke back a sob.
"Good-bye," she said and headed for the plane.
"Broken is time!"
Rip Hunter threw up his hands, in frustration. Glowing white crystals, embedded in the walls and ceiling, illuminated the futuristic laboratory. Bright red sunlight shone through an open window. A flying motorcycle zipped past the window, but Hunter paid it no heed. Instead he paced restlessly across the lab. His bloodshot eyes had a manic gleam. Stubble carpeted his haggard face. His disorderly blond hair looked like it hadn't been combed in weeks, relativisti-cally speaking. His attire reflected a mishmash of diverse eras, so that he wore a vintage World War I bomber jacket over a skintight twenty-third-century space suit. Army boots from Valley Forge stomped across the floor.
"Find can't the right power source for chronosphere the!" Years of time-travel had left him with a kind of temporal Tourette's syndrome. But though the words were scrambled, his impatient tone came through loud and clear. He swept a stack of notes and computer disks off the desk before him, scattering his work onto the floor.
"I've brought everything you asked for," Supernova insisted. He gestured at a nearby workstation, where the fruits of his prospecting were laid out atop a cluttered plasteel counter: Lex Luthor's kryptonite gauntlet, Starman's stellar energy rod, the Shadow Thief's dimensiometer, the radioactive cocoon from Doctor Sivana's abandoned laboratory, an Nth Metal harness, an uncharged power ring, and various other artifacts of Earth's super-heroic age. He placed an absorbacon headset, salvaged from a crashed Thanagarian warship, onto the counter beside the other relics. "Can't you make something out of them?"
Hunter snatched up the headset and angrily hurled it at the Flash's cosmic treadmill. The alien learning device ricocheted off the treadmill and clanged onto the floor. The treadmill toppled over onto its side. "S'gnhton working!" he shouted. "Nothing!"
"Rip, calm down!" Supernova pleaded, "It's tough enough understanding you when you're linear!"
The distraught scientist struggled to compose himself. "You're thgir." With effort, he spit out the syllables in something resembling chronological order. "I apol-lo-lo-gize. But we. Can't fight. Him yet. What if he sdnifs .. .finds ... us before we're rrrReady?"
"You're Rip Hunter," Supernova assured him. "You're the Time Master." To his relief, the other man no longer sounded like Zatanna on a bender. "I won't worry about deadlines if you can just stay focused."
He wandered over to the window and gazed out over the futuristic cityscape outside. Crystal spires climbed toward the heavens. Alien hieroglyphics adorned holographic signs and billboards. Antigravity cruisers soared beneath a crimson sky. Extraterrestrials of every shape, size, and species crowded the busy streets, which were patrolled by flying centurions. Maglev trains connected soaring temples, palaces, and skyscrapers.
"I realize Skeets has been searching for you," Supernova continued. "He knows you need access to this level of technology, but we're in the last place he'd think to look, if he even knows it exists."
High above them, a transparent dome arched over the gleaming metropolis. The dome looked huge from his perspective; it took effort to recall that the entire city was actually contained in a glass bottle no more than two feet tall. Welcome to Kandor, he thought. The Kryptonian city, which had been miniaturized by Brainiac generations ago, long before Krypton's destruction, now occupied a place of honor in Superman's Fortress of Solitude.
"For now, we're safe," Supernova insisted.
Belying his words, a sudden tremor shook the city. The collection of high-tech artifacts tumbled off the counter onto the floor. Deep cracks snaked across the vibrating walls. Shards of crystal sprayed like shrapnel. The world seemed to shudder beneath their feet, almost as though the last days of doomed Krypton had finally caught up with Kandor. Loud crashes and screams came from outside. Crowds of alien creatures panicked in the streets below.
"No, oh!" Hunter whispered backward.
"Damn it!" Supernova grabbed onto the window frame to keep from falling. "It's Skeets! It has to be!"
“YOU AND YOUR ERRAND BOY HAVE GOTTEN SLOPPY, RIP HUNTER!”
Impossibly loud, the robot's voice boomed from high above the trembling city. Staring upward, Supernova saw Skeets looming over the bottled city. The floating golden sphere was larger than Kandor itself.
“A TAOHYDN HERE, A DHRONAL FOOTPRINT THERE. YOU LEFT A
trail and i found ydui” Skeets bumped against the bottle, tilting it on its side. Supernova nearly tumbled out the window as the floor suddenly sloped beneath him. Tools, relics, and debris slid across the floor into the wall. Rip Hunter gasped out loud as gravity threw him against a counter. A hideous scraping sound reverberated up from Kandor's foundations. Skeets nudged the askew bottle toward the very edge of the pedestal, “surrender yourself IMMEDIATELY—OR IT’S KRYPTON ALL OVER AGAIN!”
Hunter shoved himself away from the counter and ran clumsily across the inclined floor. He yanked Supernova's cape from his shoulders. "Hey!" the startled hero protested.
"Prepared we're not a confrontation for!" Grimacing, he wrestled his time-warped syntax into submission. "Size up. And stall him!" He tore open the lining of Supernova's blue cloak and began to pull out heaping handfuls of electronic circuitry. Fiber-optic cables and minute ciystal transistors glinted in the faint light. "Leave costume the. So I can reassemble its stiucric... circuits ... into something with a little more oomphV
Sounds like a plan, Supernova thought. Not having any better ideas, he began to hastily peel off the costume even as Hunter continued to ransack the cape's lining for spare parts. The all-concealing disguise dropped onto the floor, leaving a dimly lit figure standing by the window. He rescued a pair of goggles from the floor and braced himself for the transition back to his usual dimensions. His fingers were poised above the size controls built into the palms of his gloves.
"Go!" Hunter urged him. "Og!"
The unmasked hero squeezed his fists. The controls clicked and luminous atomic orbitals suddenly swirled around his tensed body, which began to grow larger by the second. Harnessing the incalculable power of a miniature dwarf star fragment, the sophisticated technology, which he and Rip had "borrowed" from Ray Palmer, the brilliant physicist once known as the Atom, instantly increased the hero's height, mass, and density. He flung himself out the window, so as not to explode the lab from within, and zoomed upward toward the sealed neck of the bottle. The solid glass cap seemed to shrink before his eyes.
“fine,” Skeets taunted, “have it your way, hunter.”
Kandor teetered precariously beneath the hero. Bracing his hands against the bottom of the cap, he pushed it up, up, and away only heartbeats before growing too large for the bottle to contain him. He zoomed out into the glacial vastness of the Fortress of Solitude, while simultaneously regaining his normal size. Polished crystal pillars supported the ceiling of the arctic fortress. The pellucid monoliths angled upward to form what looked like a majestic temple made of solid ice. But the flying hero had little time to admire the Fortress's unearthly architecture as he arced around just in time to catch the bottled city before it plunged off its pedestal. Superman's famed S-shield was carved into the base of the crystal perch. ,
"Hunter's not your problem, pal," he warned Skeets. "I am."
The robot let out a startled burst of static.
“MICHAEL?”
Booster Gold touched down on the translucent floor of the Fortress. His familiar blue and gold uniform was conspicuously devoid of any corporate logos or trademarks. He carefully placed Kandor back onto its pedestal, while glaring fiercely at his former sidekick.
“dna scan: michael joN carter, i □□% matchSkeets was taken aback by Booster's apparent resurrection, “it—it is you. but how?”
"Tell him everything," Hunter's voice whispered in Booster's ear. He heard fabric tearing in the background of the transmission. Rip sounded like he was ripping the Supernova costume to shreds in his search for crucial components. "It'll buy me some time, and he'll know soon enough anyway."
Booster stepped between Skeets and the fragile bottle city. Just keep talking, he told himself. "I've known what's up with you for weeks now, Skeets. When I went into Rip's underground bunker, the clues were everywhere." Like a time machine, his memory carried him back to the chilling discovery he had made beneath the Arizona desert. "I almost asked you about it... but Rip showed up to stop me."
The elusive Time Master had stepped out of a shimmering temporal rift while Booster had still been reading that damning graffiti on the wall. It was he who had pointed out that the phrase "It's all his fault" referred to Skeets, not Booster. A chronal force field had enveloped both men, shielding them from surveillance.
"I told y9u Rip wasn't in the lab ... the first of many, many lies I'd learn to spin. He revealed to me the truth about you ... and we formed a plan."
Angry at being deceived, Skeets fired a laser blast at Booster, who took evasive action, flying deeper into the silent Fortress. That's it, he thought. Lure him away from Kandor and all those innocent people. The laser fire chipped away at the sanctuary's towering crystal pillars. Loose flakes sprayed outward from the once-smooth walls. Booster mentally apologized to Superman for staging a firefight in his home. I'll have to help him patch the place up—if I come out of this alive! .
. "First off, I had to play dumb," he explained, shouting back over his shoulder. "And if you were really yourself, Skeets, you'd be having a field day with that straight line."
His apparently random flight led him right to the Fortress's armory, where Superman had collected weapons from all over the galaxy Booster plucked a Rannian energy-rifle from its niche on the wall and fired back at Skeets, who zipped out of the way of an azure bolt, so that the blast shattered a crystalline control console instead.
Damn, Booster thought. I missed.
"Rip knew that he was destined to face off against you, so he needed the right weapons, but he had to stay hidden until he was prepared to fight. It was my job to gather the necessary materials, and there was no way to do that under your 24/7 observation." He vividly recalled Skeets tagging along with him everywhere he went. "I had to get totally off your radar somehow."
Dodging Skeets' energy bolts, he drop-kicked the levitating robot into a nearby pillar, then ducked behind an alien tank left over from Mongul's attempted invasion of Earth a few years back. The bright red bursts ricocheted off the tank's armor plating. A deflected blast burned a hole straight through a preserved suit of Tamaranean battle armor. Booster shouted over the sizzle of melting metal.
"So we pulled a fast one. Rip explained how I could be in two places at once with the help of time-travel. Then he faked my death, yanking me out of the timestream at the last minute and substituting my own future corpse." Booster remembered feeling the heat of the nuclear explosion/ a split second before he slipped sideways through time. Thankfully, he had only caught a glimpse of the charred skeleton Rip had replaced him with. "That's something I'd rather not dwell on, by the way"
He emptied the rifle's cartridge at Skeets, but his blasts bounced harmlessly off the robot's unmarked casing. Out of ammo, he tossed the weapon aside and took refuge behind the turret of the massive tank.
"Suddenly I was twelve weeks back in time, co-existing as both Booster Gold and under a new, humbler, more virtuous identity that would, frankly, be the last place anybody would ever look for me." He winced slightly at the assumptions underlying the disguise. The truth hurts, he thought, but what can you do? "The Booster/Supernova rivalry was designed to throw off any lingering suspicions, and it worked."
He couldn't help wondering what was keeping Rip? He imagined Hunter frantically cobbling a weapon together from the Kryptonian circuitry installed in the Supernova suit. How long is that going to take?
"Meanwhile, Rip had me lift the Atom's size-changing belt and gloves from JLA storage, so he could take advantage of the super-science in the bottle city of Kandor. As Supernova, I brought him every super-weapon I could find, from Luthor's kryptonite gauntlet to Hawkgirl's Nth Metal, in hopes of building something that could beat you."
The furious energy bolts stopped whizzing over his head. He guessed that Skeets was holding his fire to hear the rest of Booster's narrative. Curiosity seemed to have momentarily won out over the robot's homicidal agenda. Booster suddenly felt like some sort of sci-fi Scheherazade.
"That's right, buddy," Booster taunted him. "We operated out of this Fortress ... and don't think we didn't plunder it." He gave the knife another twist. "Where do you think we found the parts and powers for my suit?"
Rip's voice emerged from Booster's earpiece. "Distracted keep him, Booster! I'm my way on!"
About time, Booster thought. I'm running out of exposition.
Abandoning his position behind the tank, he took off through the Fortress once more. Over the last few weeks he had taken the time to memorize the sanctuary's layout, thank goodness, so he had no trouble circling back toward the trophy room containing the bottle city. The vengeful robot followed in hot pursuit. .
"Think back, Skeets. Everything Supernova did—everything—was based on applied teleportation. Every bit of circuitry in that costume was cribbed from..."
He flew back into the trophy chamber. Just as he'd hoped, a full-sized Rip Hunter stood in front of Kandor and its pedestal. A metallic red cube, about the size of a thick paperback book, rested in the Time Master's grip. A concave metal dish was mounted to the front of the authentic Kryptonian relic, which Hunter held before him like an old-fashioned box camera. Booster wondered if Skeets recognized the device.
"Superman's Phantom Zone Projector!"
Rip clicked a switch and a beam of black light targeted Skeets. The beam produced a photo-negative effect that reversed the colors of the robot's casing and optical sensors. It also halted his advance, freezing him in place.
"NOOOOO!" Skeets cried out in alarm. Or was it Skeets? The angry outburst lacked Skeets' visual robotic timbre, causing Booster to eye the immobilized mechanism suspiciously. Was there somebody else inside that golden sphere?
The question was possibly academic as Skeets began to fade from view. The hovering orb started to flatten out into merely two dimensions. Solid metal became immaterial, so that you could see through Skeets as though the robot was a ghost... or a phantom.
It's working-, Booster thought triumphantly. Back on Krypton, Superman's forebears had banished their worst criminals to the Phantom Zone, a parallel dimension inhabited only by bodiless wraiths. With any luck, Skeets would join Krypton's Most Wanted in endless purgatory, where he would no longer be able to do any more damage to the timestream.
"That's it!" Booster encouraged Rip. "Crank it up!"
The veteran chrononaut rolled his eyes. "It's a guitar amp not, Booster." The rush of battle seemed to have stabilized his syntax somewhat. "A prison portal it's a ... and Skeets is holding on for life dear!"
For a moment or two, Booster thought victory was theirs. But then Skeets began to resolidify. The flattened disk inflated back into a sphere. The photonegative effect flickered alarmingly. The robot almost seemed to be drinking in the beam from the Projector.
No, Booster thought, horrified. That's not possible. Is it?
Flunter poured on the power, pushing the Projector to its limits—and beyond. The device began to shake itself apart, so that Hun ter had trouble holding onto it. Smoke seeped from the junctures of the metal cube; Booster smelt the circuitry burning. The black-light beam wavered erratically as Skeets absorbed its power like a black hole.
But more than just raw energy was being consumed. Booster's jaw dropped as he glimpsed a stream of humanoid figures flowing into Skeets. Warped and elongated by a seemingly irresistible pull, the agonized specters wailed silently as, one by one, the condemned denizens of the Phantom Zone exchanged one prison for another. Booster shuddered at the sight. "Rip, what the hell is he doing ... ?"
"Aaagh!" Hunter yelped as sparks erupted from the Projector, shocking him. He yanked his hands away from the smoking cube, which crashed down onto the floor. It sparked for a few more seconds before shorting out completely. Skeets sucked in the last of the beam before the ebon light flickered out for good. Booster stared mutely at the unstoppable robot, transfixed by the terrifying sight before him:
A trio of Zoners—Kryptonian criminals, presumably—peered out from behind the translucent screen over Skeets' sensor array. Booster made out the contorted features of a pale-faced man with a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. Crowding behind him, their faces equally anguished, were a slinky-looking woman with short black hair and a hulking lummox who reminded Booster of every surly bouncer who had ever kicked him out of a bar. All three prisoners wore matching gray uniforms emblazoned with obscure Kryptonian symbols. Their fists pounded impotently against the inside of the screen, before being drawn deeper into Skeets' voracious core. Booster wondered briefly what the nameless trio had done to be banished to the Phantom Zone in the first place.
Not that it really mattered now.
"Oh my God," Booster whispered. "He's eaten the Phantom Zone."
"I'll go you worse one," Rip said. "A meal not it's for him. Just it's an appetizer!" Producing a handheld console from the pocket of his bomber jacket, he stabbed at the keypad with his fingers. "But a retreat us it bought! You are ready?"
. Booster stared at the menacing robot. There was nothing cute or funny about Skeets now. Darksome energy crackled around the robot, whose very presence seemed to distort the fabric of the space-time continuum, causing reality itself to warp and bend all around him. Booster still didn't know what malevolent force had possessed Skeets, but he knew serious trouble when he saw it.
"Yes!" he shouted at Hunter. "Let's get outta here!"
Rip poked a button and a chronal displacement wave swept both him and Booster away, leaving Skeets alone in the vandalized Fortress. The hovering robot consumed the last of the Phantom Zone energy and latched onto the wave before it could fade away entirely.
“OH, ND, NO. YOU DON’T GET AWAY THAT EASILY.”
He blinked out of existence.
The bumpy ride jolted her bones, over and over again.
Renee crouched in the back of a grimy army-surplus truck that looked like something out of an old M*A*S*H episode. A flapping canvas cover provided only partial protection from the blowing snow and wind outside the truck. An overstuffed rucksack sat at her feet. A chilly gust blew a dusting of icy white flakes through a gap in the canvas. She shivered beneath her down jacket and heavy winter clothing.
"AIEEEEE!" ,
Propped up beside her, Vic screamed in agony. His wasted body had practically disappeared beneath his snow gear. His limbs jerked spasmodically. Gloved hands groped at his head and torso, as though trying to rip out the cancer with his bare hands. Renee held onto him tightly, restraining him.
Time for another shot, she decided. She tugged his jacket down on one side, enough to expose a patch of skin. She kept one arm wrapped around him as she injected another dose of morphine into his veins.
"Aangg ghnn hurts," he mumbled incoherently. "Nhnnn hnnnn."
"I know, Charlie." She withdrew the syringe. "I know it does."
Vic slumped against her as he escaped back into a narcotic haze. She took a quick inventory of the syringes remaining in the scuffed metal case. Frowning, she saw that she was running low on the morphine. Would her meager supply last until they reached their destination? It has to, she thought. For Charlie's sake.
Worried muttering came from the opposite side of the truck bed, where a trio of local Sherpas eyed her and Vic apprehensively. Renee had no idea what the men were saying, but she couldn't blame them for giving her and Vic funny looks. She imagined that they presented a pretty unnerving spectacle: a screaming foreigner, who looked like he already had one foot in the grave, and a crazed-looking woman with a pack full of drugs. Not exactly the most reassuring of traveling companions.
"Do any of you know the way to Nanda Parbat?" The wary locals gave no sign of comprehending her. "Do any of you speak English?"
She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out in frustration. Vic was dying, dammit, and this was her last chance to save him ... if she could just get him back to the hidden valley in time.
But that was proving easier said than done.
Retrieving a crumpled map from her pack, she spread it out on the floor of the truck bed. A compass dangled on a cord around her neck and she pulled it out into the open. "Please," she entreated the other passengers. "We're going to Nanda Parbat. It's okay. They know us there." She pointed urgently at the map. "But I don't know exactly what trail to take." She held out the compass. "I could use some help, some directions...."
The men drew back from her, refusing to meet her eyes.
"It's important. I have to get my friend there. To Nanda Parbat."
Only the howling wind responded to her pleas.
I'm on my own, she realized.
The road tilted sharply beneath the truck as it carried her uphill into the Himalayas. Peering out through a gap in the canvas, Renee gulped at the sight of the impossibly high mountains looming ahead of them. Ominous black storm clouds concealed the tops of the peaks from view. For a second, her nerve faltered. Jesus Christ, was she really planning to haul him all the way up there? Maybe Kate had been right. Maybe this was a bad idea.
No, she told herself. I'm not crazy. She glanced down at Vic's slumbering form. Even doped up, he grimaced in pain. The bones of his face showed through his skin. He'd lost so much weight he looked like a concentration camp victim. I can save him. I know I can.
Even if she had to drag him to the top of the world.