Last Daughter of Krypton: Legion IC

Allana Lang - Legion Lobby

Ayla simply tsked, and refocused her attention on Allana. "Sometimes Legion tryouts are based on a simple display of power for comparison purposes. Other times, it's a field op, depends on who's officiating. What'll probably happen, you'll do a thing with this new Lantern kid that Mister Brande wants us to swear in. Would you be good with that?"

“You wish me to challenge another recruit?” Allana asked. Not unheard of in the Knighthood. But rare. Unless there was a tourney involved. Or a personal vendetta.

“And a display of power on my behalf, could result in undo, and unfortuitous damage to this structure.” She added, hoping they wouldn’t have her assault an individual that could potentially be an ally.

But the runes, and sigils of the armour shimmered orange and yellow. Almost as if she was preparing for a coming fight. And looking forward to it.

Or something inside was fighting against it’s bonds. It’s bonds of control. Against the infernally strong willpower of the Knight.

The Remnant and The Gray Ghost. Batcave Prime.

Carrie had not immediately resumed her sleep.

Instead she had knelt, and performed routine maintenance on her weapons.

Including the swords.

Especially the guns.

The guns did not require oiling, or cleaning. They could fire under water, they could fire in a vacuum, they did not need to be loaded. Their bullets could do grievous harm to nearly all things, excepting a few.

But they had belonged to The Crimson Avenger. Aside from being one of the earliest of the mystery men, Lee Travis had trained generations of her predecessors. And the guns were accursed.

And thus they were to be treated reverently. With almost as much reverence as The Master himself.

She broke them down and cleaned them and reassembled them.

She was reciting The Oath of The Bat over them when ancient ancient speakers crackled to life.

She paused, finished The Oath, and rose to her feet, holstering the guns as she went.

Listening to the remainder of the message, she tapped the key for a replay.

'I wish this was a happier call, but it's not. I don't know how many of you are still with us, but it is Allan's time. The Starheart is passing on. I have the quadrant and position he is currently at. Please, if you are able, come to the Themyscira museum of History.'

"Hurm."

PING.
PING.
PING.

Beside her, the old man flickered to life. The Master's echo. The Master's ghost.

"I do not immediately recognise her voiceprint."

The ghost sniffed, smiled invisibly. "I do."

"Of whom does she speak? 'Allan.' Scott?"

"The Starheart. Force of great power."

"Responds to will. Like green energy of Oa."

"Thought it lost."

The ghost shook his head. "Not lost. Simply hidden. Protected. You know how it goes."

"Yes."

The ghost tilted his head back, gazed up at the roof of The Cave, smiled faintly. "Scott was of a generation of heroes deprived of recognition, deprived of a legend. WW2 and McCarthy and HUAC; they should have been worshipped. But that Age of Heroes served to pave the way for The Reign of The Supergirl, far more than my time as an Outsider ever did."

Ghost Bruce rubbed his jaw, reminisced, chuckled faintly. "Even Grant thought he was a Hell of a boxer. He was a lefty, but you wouldn't know it to catch his right cross."

"Will be missed."

"Mm," the ghost nodded. "He was from Gotham. He was one of us. All the more reason his legend should be perpetuated."

Carrie digested this. "Need to tell The Martian. The Martian and The Master."

The ghost grasped his cane, and shook his head. "If I know J'onzz, he's already cognisant. As for this 'Master' of yours?"

"Yes. Yes, he should know."

Of things passing...

While in the Fortress of Solitude, awaiting the recognition from the hologram of Zor-El of Krypton, the Martian Manhunter became aware of an ending.

Concealed within his uniform, hidden on his left sleeve cuff, was a transceiver he had worn for a seeming eternity.

Bruce had had one. So had Kara, Hal Jordan, the Valkyrie Missile. All of the League had worn them.

And now, for the first time in centuries, the communicator broke into static.

'I wish this was a happier call, but it's not. I don't know how many of you are still with us, but it is Allan's time. The Starheart is passing on. I have the quadrant and position he is currently at. Please, if you are able, come to the Themyscira museum of History.'

The Martian Manhunter was unable to leave the Fortress of Solitude at the moment. His current mission required his vigilance there. But he bowed his head in silence for a moment, and then summoned his ancient voice to speak aloud.

"Of the brave and the bold," he said, "and into eternity shall you pass. Know that we who hold your legacy do so with honor, and will perpetuate your fight for justice until there is no enemy, but peace."

J'onn opened his eyes, waiting on the voice of his long since passed Kryptonian friend to speak to him once more.

The Doctor. Shadow.

And up he flounced, to the moat and the drawbridge and the portcullis.

A voice called to him from the battlements, demanding and firm: "Who goes there?"

He grinned, and took his hands from his pockets, raising them in a gesture of surrender-and-oh-look-I'm-unarmed.

And he replied, effortlessly, in the tongue of Shadow: "This is Captain Zachary Cross Flane, representing The Torchwood Archive. And, erm, don't get to say this very often, but: 'Take me to your leader.'"

A grunt echoed from the battlement, and then came the thunk and twang of a crossbow, and a barbed bolt dug deep into the turf near The Doctor's left foot.

He didn't flinch, but he arched an eyebrow. "Oi! Watch the shoes, mate, these are vintage!"

"Speak not nonsense to us," the sentinel replied, "and we will rejoinder not with violence."

"Hm," The Doctor muttered. "Fair do's."

He cleared his throat, and he spoke with authority befitting bygone kings, and emperors long-lost: "Tell your Lord and Master, Azrakel, that seeking his audience stands waiting The Lord of Time itself."

He paused, and shook his head, and murmured, parenthetical aside: "(And not that idiot Epoch, either, I've got copyright.)"

Again, he raised his voice to the ramparts: "I am called The Doctor, and I am called The Fireplace Man. Lonely Angel, Lonely God, The Oncoming Storm. But to your Lord, once I was father-in-law. He called me 'Jamie.' And he called me 'Dad.'"

Silence greeted him for a moment. And then up went the portcullis and down came the drawbridge and out there before him marched fourteen of the citizens of Shadow.

Weapons gleamed in the half-light, swords and shields, spears and halberds, borne by twelve of these.

And two were mages, elder and wiser and carrying staves topped with balls of crystal.

They marched around him and The Doctor stood there, calmly, bemusedly.

They examined him, the mages in particular. "Your appearance and mode of dress are in accordance with the world of Our Lord's birth. But how speak you the language of this realm?"

The Doctor jutted his head in the direction of The TARDIS. "It's quite good, really. My magical, erm, Moving Castle, there. Forms a telepathic circuit with me and translates all languages automatically. You're hearing me in Shadowspeak, I'm hearing you in language I'll understand, dead brill. It's a good thing your boss speaks English, though, telepathy's rather ill-advised with him in the room."

The two mages looked at each other. One of them arched an eyebrow.

The same one who had spoken before again addressed The Doctor. "What business have you then with Lord Azrakel?"

The Doctor smiled faintly. "Oh, you know how it is. I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd pop 'round for tea."

The mage scowled.

The Doctor waggled his eyebrows. "It's said that one should keep his friends close and his enemies closer, either way, it'd be worth keeping an eye on me, don'tcherfhink?"

Again, the mages exchanged a look, and signaled to the soldiers. And with the creaking and clanking of armour, they turned again to face into the castle.

"You will come with us."

The Doctor lowered his hands, and they slipped easily into his pockets. "'Lay on, MacDuff.'"

And with the tromping of many mithril boots, the men of Shadow led The Doctor across the drawbridge and into the keep.


I turned back to my nephew, but before I could speak a flash of light erupted into being, and a huge white feather drifted down from the ceiling. In midair, it burst into flames, filling the room with the stench of Helfire and burnt feather.

"Oh damn!" I said, and sat down shakily at the windowsill, sending the crystal goblet tumbling down to shatter on the flagstones below.

Jonah looked out the window. It had been a long time since he had used these powers. Jonah smiled at seeing his two uncles back together. Side by side. For just a second, he felt like he was at home.

One of the mages and one of the guards entered.

"My Lord," intoned the guard, formally, "presenting unto your audience The Lord of Time."

And in strolled the man that Wraith and Merick and Jonah all had called Jamie Hamilton. Looking far younger than the last time any of them had seen him. Looking far younger than the day he had vanished from his dying bed.

"'Ello, everyone," he grinned beneath those lavender spectacles. "Everyone, 'ello. Jonah, lovely to see you, Chuck Taylor, are you still kicking around the timestream? 'Eard you were dead, you look good! Blimey, it's like 'This Is Your Life!'"

He sniffed, sharply, and frowned. "Dun 'alf smell like Guy Fawkes Night in here, have you lot been burning something?"

But then he laid spectacled eyes upon Wraith, and he quieted. "Hello, Black Hole Sun. Still fighting the good fight, I see. You look as tired as I feel."

The Fortress of Solitude had not had a visitor arrive at its doorstep for quite some time, and its operating systems had long since gone into idlemode (if one could describe it in the simplest of human terms). The fortress was idle, but not completely asleep. It would never sleep... it would never fall into ruin unless the Earth itself was torn apart at the seams. As J'onn Jones arrived for a meeting with the scientist Zor-El, the Fortress scanned his life form and recognized it.

Crystals that had not opened for in countless years moved apart, and the way was opened for him.

As J'onn moved further inside the Fortress came to life once again, and it was aware of him. Though no one with eyes watched, it watched. It kept the path illuminated for him, right up until the moment the Martian Manhunter reached the central console. There, after the subtle rearranging of crystals, the spirit of its creator came to life.

Zor-El of Krypton looked down upon the familiar form of J'onn Jones and smiled. Here was one of his oldest friends.

But something was amiss.

"Light to the light, you have traveled far to get here. Something is troubling you, that much is clear."

Zor-El narrowed his gaze and looked long and hard at the Martian.

"What is it you need of me?"

Wraith

Enough!

First Jonah calls up the shade of one who was a brother to me, and it proceeds to bring back memories and feeling I had kept long hidden.

Then the sign I had been dreading arrived. Hell had a new Scion. After the defeats Lucifer had been suffering over the aeon's, I doubt it was a mewling babe in a cradle somewhere.

I was betting he had a plan, and I was not going to like it.

Then, out of the blue walks a man who should be long dead. A man I called father.

I have had ENOUGH!

A small field of shadow appeared next to me, a mirror of darkness. I reached into it, and grasped something that only I could safely hold. I pulled my hand out as shadows swirled around me, draping me in the armor of war. Spiked, bladed, a cape of velvet so dark it looked like old blood, and in my hand a gleaming blade that emitted a low moan. A sound that caused men to fall to their knees in dread, Daemons to flee back to their pits, and Angels to take to the skies.

I drew Dirge from it's resting place, and the knowledge and power of ten thousand souls was at my grasp. I looked out at my nephew, not by blood but by the bonds of friendship. I looked upon the shade of my brother, and I looked upon the form of the father of the woman I still loved, ten thousand years after her death.

"I have had ENOUGH! Jonah, go home. Satan has chosen a champion and you will be needed on Earth. Merick, I love you, but if you don't shut the fuck up about Rose and the past, I am going to stuff you into a very small bottle and give you to a small child to play with."

I turned to the last phantom in the room. Jamie Hamilton. My sword raised until the point was in line with his heart.

"You, whatever or whoever you are, picked the wrong time to fuck with me. Give me a reason to keep you in one piece. Better yet, give me a reason not to."

I could feel the blades thirst for combat, and forced it back down. I would give it a chance to explain itself, then if I was not satisfied, well, things were going to get ugly.

Lightning Lass, Kid Quantum, Shadow Lass, GL 2261, M'onel. The Lobby.

“You wish me to challenge another recruit?” Allana asked. Not unheard of in the Knighthood. But rare. Unless there was a tourney involved. Or a personal vendetta.

"Well," Ayla blinked.

"No," Kid Quantum cautioned, "that's usually not how we do things."

"It would be entertaining, however," Tasmia admitted, honestly.

"Like that time Karate Kid handed Powergirl her butt in his 'power demonstration,'" Ayla nodded. "But, no, it's not unprecedented, but no. You probably wouldn't fight him. I was thinking more, um, side-by-side mission assignment."

“And a display of power on my behalf, could result in undo, and unfortuitous damage to this structure.” She added, hoping they wouldn’t have her assault an individual that could potentially be an ally.

"Plus," Liz smiled softly, "as impressive as your armour is, your opponent would have an Oan Ring of Power. Used correctly, there's no weapon more formidable."

"Are we taking bets, now?" M'onel inclined his head. "Your boy against The Vatican's?"

Liz smirked. "No offence to The Holy Father? But always bet on Green."

But the runes, and sigils of the armour shimmered orange and yellow. Almost as if she was preparing for a coming fight. And looking forward to it.

Or something inside was fighting against it’s bonds. It’s bonds of control. Against the infernally strong willpower of the Knight.

And Ceriel's hand, gentle, firm, strong even in the face of the armour's uncounted might, found itself on Allana's shoulder.

And her voice was soft. Edifying. But potent.

"'Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.'"

She smiled softly. Her voice was a murmur. "You can do this. 'Anything is possible for they who believe.'"

The Doctor. Shadow.

A small field of shadow appeared next to me, a mirror of darkness. I reached into it, and grasped something that only I could safely hold. I pulled my hand out as shadows swirled around me, draping me in the armor of war. Spiked, bladed, a cape of velvet so dark it looked like old blood, and in my hand a gleaming blade that emitted a low moan. A sound that caused men to fall to their knees in dread, Daemons to flee back to their pits, and Angels to take to the skies.

I drew Dirge from it's resting place, and the knowledge and power of ten thousand souls was at my grasp. I looked out at my nephew, not by blood but by the bonds of friendship. I looked upon the shade of my brother, and I looked upon the form of the father of the woman I still loved, ten thousand years after her death.

"I have had ENOUGH! Jonah, go home. Satan has chosen a champion and you will be needed on Earth. Merick, I love you, but if you don't shut the fuck up about Rose and the past, I am going to stuff you into a very small bottle and give you to a small child to play with."

I turned to the last phantom in the room. Jamie Hamilton. My sword raised until the point was in line with his heart.

"You, whatever or whoever you are, picked the wrong time to fuck with me. Give me a reason to keep you in one piece. Better yet, give me a reason not to."

The Doctor's grin faded. He drew his face up tight.

Goosebumps prickled his skin, down the back of his neck. He pursed his lips.

His eyebrows bunched. And he again raised his hands in surrender.

And he expressed, plainly, that he was not happy about this. "Oo-er."

But he neither fell to his knees, fled, nor flew. He had stared into The Untempered Schism as a boy and he had known then fear. He had run away at the first chance he'd gotten.

But he'd spent the rest of his long long life running pellmell into danger, into Chaos, and only rarely had he retreated since.

This was not one of the rarelies.

"Right, then," he murmured. "If that's how it's going to be."

His right hand, the hand he'd once regrown in the middle of a swordfight fifteen hours after his previous regeneration cycle, this held up three fingers.

"Three reasons," he suggested. "Not just one. For, not against."

Switching the three fingers to one finger, he pointed down at that spot on his chest at which the murderous blade was leveled. "First of all. Feller-me-lad. I've got two hearts, not one, and your fierce oul' pigsticker here isn't exactly pointing at either one. So, left a bit, right a bit, dealer's choice, but you'll have to pick one."

Two fingers. "Second of all. 'Strike me down and I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.'"

He paused. Considered this. "No, hang on. Wait, that's 'Star Wars.' No, blow it, I stand by the statement."

Three fingers. "Thirdly. No. Yes, thirdly. I've had some time to learn about things, here and there in history. And unless I'm wrong, which doesn't happen especially often, the weapon which you're brandishing in my general direction is a soul reaver, by the design, and quite a nasty one judging by the whiff of the magickal aura. But that's the thing about souls, ennit?"

He spoke slowly. "A long time ago in a barn far, far away, d'you remember the first thing I said to you? You scared me and oul' Mister Kent near out of our socks, and I said to you, you can't have me mortal soul, 'I'm a scientist so I don't have one.'"

He smiled faintly. "It's me, Kyle. It's me. Really really."

He waved with a wiggle of his right hand's five fingers. "'Ello."

TearsoftheWorld said:

The Fortress of Solitude had not had a visitor arrive at its doorstep for quite some time, and its operating systems had long since gone into idlemode (if one could describe it in the simplest of human terms). The fortress was idle, but not completely asleep. It would never sleep... it would never fall into ruin unless the Earth itself was torn apart at the seams. As J'onn Jones arrived for a meeting with the scientist Zor-El, the Fortress scanned his life form and recognized it.

Crystals that had not opened for in countless years moved apart, and the way was opened for him.

As J'onn moved further inside the Fortress came to life once again, and it was aware of him. Though no one with eyes watched, it watched. It kept the path illuminated for him, right up until the moment the Martian Manhunter reached the central console. There, after the subtle rearranging of crystals, the spirit of its creator came to life.

Zor-El of Krypton looked down upon the familiar form of J'onn Jones and smiled. Here was one of his oldest friends.

But something was amiss.

"Light to the light, you have traveled far to get here. Something is troubling you, that much is clear."

Zor-El narrowed his gaze and looked long and hard at the Martian.

"What is it you need of me?"

Click to expand...

The Martian Manhunter gazed long at the face of his oldest friend.

There had been a time, so long ago, when J'onn J'onzz was the Chief Lawgiver to the Council of Krypton. As such, he was charged with advising the council on matters of interstellar law, and served as the chief police officer and High Court Officer. It was during this that J'onn befriended Zor-El.

The deepest trust formed between them. And, when the end of Krypton was imminent, Zor-El trusted his friend with watching over the baby Kara as she came of age on Earth.

"It is the nature of my species to be superstitious to a degree," J'onn spoke at last. "I have come upon an omen, a foretelling of the coming of the Child of Darkness. It was my hopes that stored here in the Fortress of Solitude was information regarding the identity of this harbinger."

When Zor-El had tinkered many, many years ago with the crystals that would later form the Fortress of Solitude for his only daughter, he had given much thought as to how he might be able to preserve an actual copy of himself. On Earth his only child would have power unimaginable, and he wanted to be there in mind, body and strength. As Krypton fast approached its hour of destruction... he realized he could never be there in the way that he most wanted.

His body would be destroyed... but his spirit would live on.

It was that spirit that was presently face-to-face with J'onn J'onnz.

His dearest friend.

As smart as Zor-El had been, he considered the Martian to be of an equal mind. He was strong, incredibly smart and fiercely devoted to the pursuit of truth and justice. When Zor-El placed his infant daughter in her ship... he trusted that same Martian with her safekeeping.

That time had since come and gone, and here they were once again.

"It is the nature of my species to be superstitious to a degree,"

Zor-El smiled and nodded his head.

"A truth that I learned many times over."

The real purpose of J'onn's visit soon came to light, and the smile on Zor-El's visage faded.

"I have come upon an omen, a foretelling of the coming of the Child of Darkness. It was my hopes that stored here in the Fortress of Solitude was information regarding the identity of this harbinger."

"My friend," Zor-El began solemnly, "I have done my very best to include in these archives all the knowledge and fundamental truths present in this universe. Matters of scientific fact..."

Zor-El grew quiet for a few moments and then spoke again.

"The information you seek is... beyond my ability to give."

Allana Lang - Lobby

And her voice was soft. Edifying. But potent.

"'Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.'"

She smiled softly. Her voice was a murmur. "You can do this. 'Anything is possible for they who believe.'"

Click to expand...

Turning to Look at Ceriel, she who could not be seen by the eyes of mere mortal. Allana spoke, “I have had Faith since that night. Since the Exterminatus. How could I not?”

Turning back to the rest of the group she said unto them, in the light of the lume-stripes in the Hall of the Legion. “What is my task, and whom is my companion in this quest?”

Allana Lang - House of Kent.

Age 13:

Ice and snow blew around the Knight’s armored forms. Guardsmen shaking in thick woolen cloaks as they searched. In the distance the sharp snapping explosion of trees as sap within them froze.

“Lord Lang. I found a cave!”

Within seconds a blimp appeared on the Lord Knights H.U.D. A soft green blinking dot. Making his way through the storm the knight encountered more of his heavy guard, each of them eager to find the Lords daughter, a fellow Knight, and get out of this storm.

The cave loomed in the darkness. A dark pit of despair, contrary to a normal cave. This one welcomed nothing. Foreboding. Hate. Pain. That was what awaited any who entered this dark pit of horror.

A dozen swords slid from sheaths. A signal to the troopers to arm themselves. A hundred bolters snapped as ammo clips where slapped into place. Arming pins thrown back in unison, and the bolters were ready to kill and maim any who fought back.

Without a word the Knights moved in. Each covering the ones around them. Swords glinting in the light of the auspex units. The soundless ping of the unit scanning ahead, creating a map of the cavern as data was pooled and collated by the Lord Knights armour.

“Lord Lang,” Eternal Summer, the onboard system said in his ear. “I’m detecting lifeforms ahead. Counting thirty-two biological forms. Non-living. Non-Moving. Assessment indicates there is no hazard ahead.”

“Very well Summer. Keep the Sensorium active.”

“Of course.”

Moving forward the Knights entered a widening space, a chapel like room. Obvious only by the bloodstained alter.

“What’s that?” One of the troopers asked breaking the silence. His finger pointing at a promethium scorched symbol in the cavern wall. A symbol two meters in height, and shaped like a chalice. A Black Chalice burned into the stone

“Ignore it.” Karak declared. Ending the subject. He’d made oaths long ago that commanded his responses to this subject. “Search the bodies. And find my Daughter.”

***

Minutes stretched into an hour. The corpses, slashed and hacked by an unknown force were burned by sheets of promethium. The mark on the wall shattered by hundreds of heavy bolter rounds, wielded by heavy troopers.

The alter was split in two by Karak’s blade. A gene locked blade of Cythrául and Coltan. Rumor had it the blade was forged by the powers of light, and contained the Hand of Truth. For it cut through anything.

And then there was a ping. Blue and vibrant on the HUD. And across the Vox-net he heard a voice. “We found her.”

And then there was a flurry of commands across the net. “Medicae.”

“All units converge on her location. Now”

“Bring in the Starhawk.”

“Where’s the Medicae? We need cloaks. Everyone give me your cloaks.”

Running at speed Karak smashed a boulder in his way. Rock dust and ice splinters showering several knights. Armored feet thundered on the ice covered mountain pathway.

Leaping from place to place he crossed the distance in moments. Slamming into a snowdrift, sending up a plume of smoke-like white powder.

“Starhawk come in. Descend on my beacon. NOW!”

Looking down he gazed at his daughter. The snow around her melted into ice. The ground bare, and slagged, beneath her.

What happened here? He asked himself silently. The roar of the Starhawk plasma turbines drowning out everything. Even the vox-net was silent, the boarding ramp slamming down with a thud that puffed up snow, and shattered ice.

Troopers grabbed his daughter’s form and hauled her aboard. Not even waiting for the Medicae to check her out.

The Fortress of Solitude

TearsoftheWorld said:

"My friend," Zor-El began solemnly, "I have done my very best to include in these archives all the knowledge and fundamental truths present in this universe. Matters of scientific fact..."

Zor-El grew quiet for a few moments and then spoke again.

"The information you seek is... beyond my ability to give."

Click to expand...

The Martian Manhunter nodded his head. "It is as I feared," he told the consciousness. "Thus, I will trouble you no more, my friend."

With that, J'onn J'onzz turned to walk away. However, as his eyes passed through the interior of the chamber, he saw something he had not noticed when he first arrived.

It was large and domed shaped, like the Great Dome that once covered a portion of Kryptonopolis. This structure, however, was sizeable smaller in scale, and occupied a full portion of one the chambers end walls. The base of the structure was criss-crossed with crystalline spires of its construction, the crystals forming a base or pedestal upon which the dome itself rested. The dome was opaque white, polished without blemish, and glimmered and gleamed under the artificial sunlight within the Central Chamber. The top of it, which reached to about J'onn's chin, was emblazoned with a red and yellow symbol that the world had once known so well.

(music)

J'onn approached the dome, and he saw the Kryptonian glyphs that had been perfectly engraved in its side.

The writing told the Martian Manhunter what the dome was, and it told him what was inside of it.

This was Kara Zor-El's tomb.

Or, more accurately, as the glyphs spelled out: "Hope's Place of Resting".

J'onn laid his hand upon the cool exterior surface of the structure, near its center, where a pentagonal shaped indentation marked the entry point for a special key. He closed his eyes for a moment and offerred a silent prayer to whatever gods listened, whether it be Rao, or Hronmeer, or whomever, that Kara Zor-El was at peace.

Memories threatened to flood his mind, but the Martian Manhunter held them at bay. He kept the tears away. Instead, he reached out to Liz and silently told her he was coming home.

J'onn walked to the exit corridor that would take him outside. Before leaving the Central Chamber, he turned and took one last look around. Power still rested within this Fortress, as it had, and it always would. Fortunately this was power that could not be tapped by outside sources, nor could it be stolen away by those who would use it for their own purposes. J'onn had made a promise to watch over Kara so long ago. And, as his eyes settled for one final look upon her resting place, he confirmed that oath.

"I have not forgotten," he told Zor-El's artificial construct. "Nor will I ever."

And then the Martian Manhunter left the Fortress of Solitude, taking flight in the cold Arctic air, and heading back to the Legion Headquarters.

As the Martian Manhunter left the Fortress of Solitude, the spirit of Zor-El vanished for a moment, but then reappeared in full human form at his daughters resting chamber. A ghostly brilliance surrounded his body, making him seem as much a part of the world as he was detached from it.

He could not hold this form for very long.

Placing a hand on the chamber, Zor-El also closed his eyes in respect, and then slowly faded away. The Fortress of Solitude remained fully active for a few more minutes, and then powered-down.

J'onn was a bit sneaky upon his return to Legion HQ. As Brande, he kept private quarters in a wing of the L shaped building. The quarters weren't vastly expansive like his other houses, but were significantly lavishly furnished enough to reflect R.J. Brande's somewhat eccentric tastes.

When the Martian Manhunter reverted to the visible spectrum, he didn't morph into the familiar R.J. Brande form, but instead became a figure that was known long ago as a Metropolis Police Department detective.

He sat down in front of a rather old VidComm unit. He turned it on and touched the datapad, dialing a number from memory.

When the call connected, a man with short, dark red hair and brown eyes was looking back at him. The man appeared to be holding a sword and a polishing stone, which became clearer as he sat back in a large, leather chair. The sword was a Japanese katana, its steel blade having a graceful curvature, and terminating at the base with a hilt of white carved bone that ended in the shape of a dragon's head.

"John!," the man said in greeting. His manner of speech was Scottish, and his accent was pure Highlands.

J'onn returned, "It has been a while."

"Aye, a few hundred years, but who's counting?" The man leaned forward again and poured a glass of Glenmorangie. "What brings you to call me? I don't believe I owe you any money for par this time."

"No," J'onn replied, "not since Inverness." J'onn smiled. "No, no, not at all, old friend. I was hoping that somewhere in that centuries old library you've got some information for me."

He smiled. "Well, something specific? Duncan kept all the nostalgic stuff. I've just about completed my entire Gutenberg references if you really want to read old books, but they're all on datafile, too." He sipped his Scotch. "What're you looking for?"

"The Child of Darkness," J'onn answered. "Some type of omen or foretelling of his coming."

"Sounds Biblical," he stated. "I'm not sure off-hand, but I think you'd find some references there in any of the old Catholic texts, in the essays on demonics or such. I don't have anything like that about. Just those Gutenberg Bibles." He was quiet for a minute. "Inquire at the Vatican. No, wait, don't do that. They're a bit stuffy about that kind of thing. And they're especially wierded out by immortals." He gave a wink.

J'onn nodded. "By the way, you're looking exceptionally well for someone born in 1518," he added.

"Hey," came the reply, "it's a kind of magic." A quiet heh-heh of a laugh. "And I thought Martians were green."

J'onn gave a wry smile. "We are."

They exchanged small talk for a few more moments until finally J'onn said goodbye.

"It was good to see you again, John Jones of Ma'lecaandra."

"And it was good to see you, too, Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."

J'onn terminated the call. He sat back and shrugged, a very human thing to do. He then shifted into R.J. Brande and sighed.

He reached out to Liz. I have met with failure in my quest to locate the identity of the Child of Darkness. Two powerful resources have been unable to provide any details on this entity. I fear we must wait and see for ourselves.

Kid Quantum, Shadow Lass, M'onel, Ceriel, GL 2261, Lightning Lass. The Lobby.

Turning to Look at Ceriel, she who could not be seen by the eyes of mere mortal. Allana spoke, “I have had Faith since that night. Since the Exterminatus. How could I not?”

Turning back to the rest of the group she said unto them, in the light of the lume-stripes in the Hall of the Legion. “What is my task, and whom is my companion in this quest?”

At first, the five sentients before her were bewildered. She looked to nowhere and she spoke to no-one and there they were wondering.

Jazmin's brow furrowed. "There we go again with the Exterminatus. No-one's questioning your faith. I mean, if you want, we can dance the dance of theology, see whose Messiah could beat whose in a fight--"

But the prickling at the back of Tasmia's neck had only worsened while she had been standing there. She had tossed forth her verbal barbs and her spoken stings but always always it had been waiting there at the back of her neck and the back of her mind.

And she looked to nowhere and she spoke not quite to no-one as she looked at the spot at which Allana had glanced.

"Hers could. Beat yours, Jazmin."

M'onel opened his mouth. And closed it again. And looked at Tasmia. Puzzled.

Kid Quantum swung her head around and locked that brow-furrowed gaze on Shadow Lass. "You keep bad-mouthing James even though he's grave-locked, and now you're gonna start in on my mode of worship?"

Tasmia shook her head. And met Kid Quantum's gaze. "Both your gods are real, that's beside the point. But her Lord was the greatest of The Scions of Heaven, just as my Lord is the greatest of The Scions of Shadow. He had power your Valor could only have dreamed of."

Jazmin seemed unconvinced. "Hmmh."

Tasmia inclined her head to Allana. By way of. Apology. She never said she was "sorry," not to her team-mates; this mannerism, this gesture alone was more than the most of them had ever seen.

She still didn't say she was sorry. But she inclined her head. Respect.

"I may not agree with the way your Church has chosen to express themselves. The decisions they have made. Their... interpretations of words passed down. Even their pronouns of choice. But I will respect that you believe in The Presence that smithed The Worlds."

Her eyes again flickered to that empty spot. And then to Allana's faceplate.

"I am bonded with the plane of Shadow," she murmured. "And as such, my senses, through my darkfield spectrum, are synaesthetically attuned to shadows and to light. Subtle, harmonic, like dewdrops upon grass."

Her nostrils flared, and she reached for the spot to which Allana had glanced, trailed her fingers through that space. "There is light here. Not from the lume-strips, Light invisible. I can smell it. I don't know what it means, but it's there. Just... there."

Ceriel remained quiet. Watching this.

Red eyes narrowed.

Winds of change were breezing through her feathers, gentle pressure. Rather like Tasmia's sensation of her light, she saw a shift in Tasmia's perception of The Universe.

"There is darkness in you," Tasmia breathed. "Deep. Locked in. Down there. Darkness lit only by fire. Interesting. I don't know what it means. But it's there. Just... there."

She paused. "You are a balance-point. An in-between. Like myself, like all of Shadow. You stand between the darkness and the light, between the candle and the stars..."

She smiled softly. A smile that became a smirk.

"You want into The Legion?"

She nodded firmly. "Let the record show: you have my vote. And my nomination, if you need it. We can sort out 'trust' later, if need be."

And she licked her lips. "This will be... interesting."

She turned away, and her cape swirled behind her as she strode away.

"If any of you need me? I'll be in the Wraith's room."

Liz frowned. And giving her own hair a toss back over her shoulders, she set her jaw and strode after the departing Shadow Champion.

"You wear your faith like a badge of honour," Ceriel smiled softly. "You wear it well, Magdalena."

"And since you ask? Not all would have kept Faith after that night. Some would have taken that night as proof that Faith is foolishness, idiocy, insanity. And yet still you hold it close to you."

"That is strength indeed, and not proof of its lack."


Liz' white-gloved hand leaped out and firmly grasped Tasmia's upper arm.

Tasmia stopped. Cold.

"I can smell the light from your Ring, too," she purred, not quite turning to look at the Lantern, "lightbringer. But do not expect me to afford you instant respect."

"Have you touched him?" Liz demanded, her voice cool and crisp and unshakable. "Wraith. Have you been with him?"

Tasmia shook herself free of Liz' grasp, and whirled to face her, her countenance a mask of incredulity. "What business is it of yours? Have you a prior claim? I find that dubious, given his continued devotion to this long-perished bride."

Liz crossed her arms over her stomach. "She was my mother. And he, my father."

Tasmia's lip twitched. "Ah, yes. The daughter. He mentioned you."

Liz' eyes were narrow slits. "What are your intentions toward him?"

Tasmia crossed one arm under her breasts and examined the fingernails of the other hand. "I am conversant enough with Terran culture that I know that daughters cannot frequently tell their fathers what to do and whom they can 'sprock.'"

A muscle in Liz' jaw tensed. "Oh, for Ganthet's sake..."

Tasmia smiled thinly, and returned her attention to Liz' eyes, lensed over with darkness. "I haven't. Sprocked him. With fingers or lips or anything else. I'd like to. Very much. But his heart still belongs to another, your matriarch, and he apparently believes that flesh cannot be shared without the exchanging of hearts. So, little to worry about on that score. He told me 'no,' lightbringer."

"And yet you cling to him," Liz pointed out. "And his departure from you frustrates you. 'No' means 'no.'"

Tasmia laughed near-silently. "I am trained for battle. I am trained for Talok. And I am trained for him. Not for thousands of ages of Man have the Shadow Champions been blessed with the presence of The Scion of Shadow. I am meant to guard him, and the power he bears, the mantle he wears, even unto my dying breath. And I am to make his life. Pleasant. He has told me 'no,' but that makes him no less attractive to me, and I am no less bound to him. But fear you not, I will keep my hands to myself."

She turned away again. "That is. If he keeps his to himself. He could always change his mind. This is his prerogative, just as it is my prerogative to seek him."

"Hnnh," Liz grunted. "'The mountain and Mohammed.' Uncle Ted was always fond of that one."

Tasmia turned to face Liz, but walked away, walked backwards from her, just a few steps. As far as she was concerned, this conversation was nearing a close. "I am told The Green Lanterns have had a Messiah also. The Torchbearer, called 'Ion.' Could you tell me, in no uncertain terms, that were he to come again in this day and this age, that you would not do anything in your power to tend his needs?"

Liz smiled, a faint smile at a faint memory. "His name was Kyle."

Tasmia smiled, a shadow of a smile. "An auspicious name."

Liz chuckled, a shard of a chuckle. "So it would seem. But no, no, I can answer honestly that there would be limits to my devotion. He could lead me into battle, but not into bed. I love... someone else."

Tasmia quieted. "And what of him, then, or her? Would you follow them to The End of Days, and through the Fire beyond the end? Would you let nothing keep you from them? Least of all... 'what others think?'"

Liz smiled thinly. "I have followed. Through days and through fire. And no. No, I don't think that I would let anything remove me from him now that I've found him again. So at least you have that. A concession of idealism."

"But I do not have your," Tasmia turned her hand in a little circle, "'blessing?'"

"I am my father's daughter," Green Lantern replied. "And once I was a bird under The Detective's wing. I would be nothing if I were not... thorough... in my protectiveness."

Tasmia nodded slowly. "This is an ideal to which I, also, can concede. So we are at an impasse."

Liz shook her head. "An old-fashioned Czarnian stand-off."

Tasmia continued to nod, and then walked backwards still further: "More later, then."

Liz conceded this. "More later."

And then turned to rejoin the knot of heroes.

As she moved, though?

He reached out to Liz. I have met with failure in my quest to locate the identity of the Child of Darkness. Two powerful resources have been unable to provide any details on this entity. I fear we must wait and see for ourselves.

Liz sighed dismally. She very much enjoyed the touch of his mind on hers. That voice. But she disliked that that voice should bear bad news.

Spoilers. 'More later.'

So we must watch. And we must wait.

But in watching and in waiting. We will be ready.

Let us make sure of this: we will be ready.


Ayla gazed after the two women, watched them for a long moment as they stood just past the outer ring of statues and sparred verbally.

"Don't know what Tas thinks she's talking about," Jazmin frowned, golden microcosms dancing around her fingers, trailing this through the same spot. "'Invisible light?' I'm not detecting any UV rays or microwaves, no photonic anomalies. Was she just being figurative?"

Ayla looked pensive. "'Those who have eyes to see, let them see.'"

Jazmin arched her eyebrows at Allana, her power extinguishing as she lowered her hand. "Hope you're happy. You've got everyone talking in sprocking riddles."

M'onel, too, looked pensive, as he stepped forward. "Well. At least we've got an internal Legion nomination, that'll streamline your election process."

He put his hands on his hips. "To answer your long-neglected question, Magdalena. We haven't yet determined your quest, that would likely be dependent on whomever is assigned to your tryout. I think it's Chameleon, these days, but I could be wrong about that. (He's a good one to get, honestly. There was this kid last month, Aztek, Chameleon hated to send him back to The Academy. He's tough but he's fair. Flexible.)"

"That was another one," Ayla pointed out, "Aztek, with powers based primarily in tech, but with a secret knack."

"Your 'companion,'" M'onel explained, "and I suppose this, too, would depend on who's appointed to try you out, would likely be a young Green Lantern, a neophyte. Still got a little bit of paperwork on both ends, here, neither Lantern nor Legion and striving for both. I guess we're calling him 'Teen Lantern.' We don't know much about him, either, so I guess you two are pretty much in the same boat."

The elder Green Lantern woman returned, her Ring hand upon her forehead as though embroiled in some internal debate.

She seemed... old. But she seemed strong. And shaken. But also unshakable.

"His name is Rond Vidar," she explained. "And he is intelligent, creative, and determined. He has the power to overcome fear. He is a student of the workings of Time. I have known him only briefly, myself, but already I know he has the makings of a legend. Granted, he's still only now in legendary infancy. But wait. Wait and see."

"I have a message. Allan asks how Uncle Ted and Mother are doing. It is time. Get here asap with any applicants. Urgent timeline. Repeat urgent timeline"

"Gotcha." said the half man half machine hybrid. He had almost missed it in the many search parameters he was running from his command hub. It had actually felt good to relinquish command of the Five to Sarya. It gave him time to explore, to relax.

With a thought he keyed the comm. "Empress I have news from that outlying sector of space you wanted watched. Message relaying." At the second thought the message was replayed to her.

Tharok reached out and picked up the glass of wine next to his hardware. Taking a drink he redirected his thoughts before the Empress answered. He scratched that task off his list and took the time to go over the same list for his next quarry. Mother box? No, too much work. The cursed weapons of Crimson? Too out of date and too specific. The Obsidian Orb of Talok? Possible. But enough magic for now. Time for some quality time.

He began the search engines. Search subject: Slaver disintegrators. Stasis boxes. Pak weapons of war. And the massive search engines went to work.

Tharok laughed to himself as he took another sip of the wine. "The Coluan would never admit it, I know, but my gear is as good as his. He just can't stand that his pedigree is more purely evil than mine. He should just embrace what he is. Maybe I ought to see if I can't just manage to give him a push in that direction sometime very soon."

Allana - Legion Lobby

Nodding, with a simple tilt of her head Allana acknowledge that she would have to wait. She’d wanted to explain about the Holy See and it’s Curia being simple mortal beings. That they could only understand with the mind of a mortal. Unless they’d looked beyond the Veil of life and death.

Unless they’d died.

But to her knowledge none of the Ecclesiarch had died. At least not died and come back from it. “Is there a place where’d you’d like me to wait? And do you have anything to eat? Water and crackers at the Vatican isn’t a proper meal.”

Allana Lang - Small moon around Tauas 4. Kingdom of the Isle

Age 17:

Lascannons fired, ripping through enemy troops. Thousands were vaporized in the first exchange. Tens of Thousands. But millions more came on. They didn’t run. Some walked. Some crawled. Many many more lurched and shambled. Their moaning cries of pain and hate filling the battlefield even before Wolf Knight Langs troops opened fire.

Her booted feet slammed into the ground below the wall, the gate behind her flung wide, troopers streaming out, the front wave firing on the run. As there weapons emptied and they reloaded the second line moved forward and continued the charge.

And two armies crashed into each other with a thunderous roar. “Ordinatus! Fire!” Allana yelled into the vox-bead at her throat.

And high in orbit a vessels cargo hold glowed white. Multiple lance beams striking the surface. Ground, rubble, stone, and people slagged and molten in a heartbeat.

The Enemy command structure was gone. Vaporized in a flash of holy fire.

Bolter rounds slammed into a force of enemy troops that were rushing her. It was only after they were all smoldering ruins with holes in their heads did she realize her own bolter was in hand, and steaming in the chill night air.

With a squad of heavy armour on her side she charged another group. And another.

And then she stopped, staring at a form shambling towards her. Bolter rounds already punctured it’s chest. Dozens of them. Flesh and bone shown through the tattered rags of it’s clothing. Internal organs were visible on another.

And another.

Dozens of enemy.

Hundreds.

Enemy troops that should be dead.

But they were walking. Shambling. Killing her people.

Looking down at the ones that didn’t get back up she took notice of kill points. “Head shots. Destroy their skulls.”

“Promethium units, burn them. Burn them all.”

And with a whoosh of superheated plasma and a gout of promethium guns, the field was blanketed with a wash of flame.

She watched as some of her own troopers, obviously dead, got up from were they had died. And she personally started shooting them in the heads.

“Chastise the Unholy with the Sacred Bolt,” she began.

“Cleanse the Unclean with the Rite of Purity.” The junior Knights around her responded across the vox.

And in unison they continued the Rite of Damnation. “Cleave the Impure with the Blade of Hatred. Armour your Soul with the Shield of Righteousness. Guard your Heart with the Ward of Honor. Strengthen your Arm with the Steel of Revulsion…”

And together they stepped forwards. Blades cleaving skulls from undead corpses. And then she saw it.

Rising up from the molten ground. The ground impacted by the Ordinatus. Nothing could live through that. The ground itself would be barren for a hundred years. Only by removing the top twenty feet of soil and dropping it into the ocean. Replacing the land with soil from another location. Only then could anything grow here again.

But something was standing. Something evil. And very angry. Oh, so very very angry indeed.

“FOR THE THRONE!!!!” she screamed, leaping into the air. Her blade shimmering with a blue light.

Threshhold. Shvaughn Erin.

And they were off. The team never stood still for long, and now wasn't any different. Shvaughn began tracking in on the Empress' last known location, looking for tracking beacons. The ghost of one came and went a couple of times before it vanished. Sat nav beacons were the best way to track where ships were. But they weren't the only one as well.

Shvaughn began the process of accessing Lallorian sensor webs. This wasn't necessarilly legal, but the Lallorians were on a lower tech level so it wasn't likely to be caught. No doubt Brainy had a gizmo that would do what Shvaughn was doing the long route in a matter of seconds. But Shvaughn wasn't in the mood to be made feel like an inferrior.

She began checking scan logs for traces of Ionic engine drive, the exotic energy discharge of the eye, or the Axe's. What scored for her was Validus' electricity. "We're all just objects in Space aren't we Vali?" the S.P. said. "It's just finding each other that's difficult."

The ship was staying out of U.P. space for the moment heading in a galactic southern course. Shvaughn keyed onto the ship and set a constant monitor on it. She was turning her attention to finding a way to predict target point of the ship when an alert came in. "Attention Legion of Super Heroes! Maxsec Takron Galtos has been hacked! Massive prison break out. Releasing Paxilon D into atmosphere to subdue inmates. Science Police enroute. Legion Prescence requested to assist in catalogging escapees. A cargo cruiser Satnav id #18827663004776, departed mid breakout. DNA scan indicated the prescence of one known metacriminal not in roster of convicts. Scan identity Mano of the Fatal Five."

"Oh bloody nass!" Shvaughn shuddered. keying the comms back online, "It never rains and all that guys. Cosmic boy, we've had a prison break on the Galtos. Guess who's team is behind it. Dawny was a distraction I think."

Brande - Legion HQ

As he powered down the old VidComm unit, another, more technologically advanced and modern system came online.

Attention Legion of Super Heroes! Maxsec Takron Galtos has been hacked! Massive prison break out. Releasing Paxilon D into atmosphere to subdue inmates. Science Police enroute. Legion Prescence requested to assist in catalogging escapees. A cargo cruiser Satnav id #18827663004776, departed mid breakout. DNA scan indicated the prescence of one known metacriminal not in roster of convicts. Scan identity Mano of the Fatal Five."

He was on his feet in an instant after the message.

He wrestled with a thought for a second. And then, he decided.

He would go.

He would watch from afar, concealed and hidden in his invisibility.

The Martian Manhunter's cape unfurled as he changed from the visage of R.J. Brande.

To Liz:

No rest for the weary.

I will be with you. I will never leave you again.

Wraith

This wasn't happening. This so wasn't happening!

"It can't be James. It's can't. We buried you. I held Rose as she cried, she held me. You died James."

I lowered Dirge, no longer threatening anyone with the blade. I lowered my head, looking down, then slung the blade onto my back, my armor sheathing it.

"Maybe I am laying down on the field of battle with a head wound. That would explain all the ghosts haunting me right now." I muttered.

"No my Lord, you are fit and hale, though I wouldn't rule out spirits haunting you. You tend to leave things broken when you get worked up." said a voice I knew very well from the doorway.


I sighed and looked over at the figure that walked through the door. Blackened armor, blood red cloak, broadsword strapped over his back, and a mane of pale white hair framing his handsome face and a roguish grin on his lips.

"Oh dear Lady of Shadows, who let YOU out of your cage?" I said, then walked over and embraced him.

"You look well brother. I take it the men are back to their wives and mothers, so you though to come here and play nursemaid." I said to my warleader. I had known him from a babe. Hell, I knew all of them from a babe. The only things in Shadow older than me were the Lady and some dragons.

"Someone has to. I hear you left us for a time and went back to your birth world. Now I see you are back, with a ghost and more to keep you entertained." His expression turned serious. "Kyle, I though you vowed to never draw that infernal blade unless you had no other option. Why is it free of the prison you placed it in?"

I rubbed my hand over my face. "I don't know. I've been...off lately. Quick to anger, quick to strike, not holding back...." I slammed my fist down into my palm, the sound cracking like a gunshot in the stone room. "Thats it!" I said in English this time, dropping the Shadowspeak I had been using.

"Hell has chosen a champion, and it must be someone of power. It's affecting me, since the Scions are linked. Making me more aggressive, more.. feral I guess. But now I know, and can guard against it."

I turned and looked at James Hamilton, my unblinking gaze looking into his. "Why have you returned father? Why now, after all these years?"

The Doctor. Shadow.

"It can't be James. It's can't. We buried you. I held Rose as she cried, she held me. You died James."

"Well, yes," The Doctor nodded, considering Wraith's suggested course of events. "And... well... no."

I lowered Dirge, no longer threatening anyone with the blade. I lowered my head, looking down, then slung the blade onto my back, my armor sheathing it.

Eying Wraith carefully, The Doctor lowered his surrendering hands and placed them in his pockets.

"Maybe I am laying down on the field of battle with a head wound. That would explain all the ghosts haunting me right now." I muttered.

The Doctor opened his mouth, opened his mouth to assure Wraith that he would get the hang of it, but it seemed that a conversation of greater import needed to take place.

"No my Lord, you are fit and hale, though I wouldn't rule out spirits haunting you. You tend to leave things broken when you get worked up." said a voice I knew very well from the doorway.

"Oh dear Lady of Shadows, who let YOU out of your cage?" I said, then walked over and embraced him.

The Doctor smirked faintly, and withdrew to the side of the room, let the two lords of Shadow have their little chat. Removing his coat and hanging it on the hilt of one of a pair of swords crossed on the wall, he pulled up a chair and put his feet up on a table. Popping his glasses into a pocket, he smiled softly at the Merick image, and at Jonah.

"Blimey," he murmured. "And I thought the end of The Universe was humbling. These side-trips give me a whole new perspective. Come back from the dead, and thirty seconds later, it's like you've been there all along."

At which point, his eyes slid across to Merick. "Which, I suppose you'd know something about that. Then again, I've said it before, 'Astral holography has come a long way since I was in school.' Jonah, he's one of yours, I take it? Still, it's good to see you again, both of you, either way."

"You look well brother. I take it the men are back to their wives and mothers, so you though to come here and play nursemaid." I said to my warleader.

"Someone has to. I hear you left us for a time and went back to your birth world. Now I see you are back, with a ghost and more to keep you entertained." His expression turned serious. "Kyle, I though you vowed to never draw that infernal blade unless you had no other option. Why is it free of the prison you placed it in?"

"S'weird," The Doctor murmured, to the two Tennylson lads, jutting his chin in the direction of the warriors of Shadow. "S'like hearing one half of a phone conversation. My, ah, ship, she can translate telepathically. But she's smart enough not to try and get inside Kyle's head, there's a recipe for disaster if ever I've whiffed one. I've picked up a little bit of the language, having it filter through my mind, but not all of it."

I rubbed my hand over my face. "I don't know. I've been...off lately. Quick to anger, quick to strike, not holding back...."

The Doctor quieted at this. He remembered being that man. Surviving a war and running into an enemy survivor underground in a madman's museum.

Sometimes he was that man, still.

Kind of a lot had happened since then.

I slammed my fist down into my palm, the sound cracking like a gunshot in the stone room. "Thats it!" I said in English this time, dropping the Shadowspeak I had been using.

"'Erewego," The Doctor murmured, watching Wraith like a hawk.

"Hell has chosen a champion, and it must be someone of power. It's affecting me, since the Scions are linked. Making me more aggressive, more.. feral I guess. But now I know, and can guard against it."

I turned and looked at James Hamilton, my unblinking gaze looking into his. "Why have you returned father? Why now, after all these years?"

He rose from his chair. And his eyes were dark and full of secrets.

"Oh, I've been around," he nodded slowly. "You've lived your life in a straight line. Mine's been more like, well--" he glanced at the summoning of Merick, an astral hologram given sentience and solidity, well done "--folding back the pages of a book, if I might borrow a metaphor."

He stood there in his black suit and his green shoes.

"Why am I here, you ask?" he tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at Wraith. "Well. Same reason you are, mate."

"'Our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it;" he recited, meaningfully, from Chesterton.
"'Our seers said 'Peace,' and it was not peace;
Earth will grow worse till men redeem it,
And wars more evil, ere all wars cease.'"

He smiled, just a sad little knowing little smile. "I'm here for the same reason you are, the same reason Jonah's here, the same reason Merick's come to visit from The Undiscovered Country. We're here to save the world."

The smile faded, and his face grew hard as stone, his eyes harder still.

"'He is awake.'"

"It can't be James. It's can't. We buried you. I held Rose as she cried, she held me. You died James."

"Well, yes," The Doctor nodded, considering Wraith's suggested course of events. "And... well... no."

I lowered Dirge, no longer threatening anyone with the blade. I lowered my head, looking down, then slung the blade onto my back, my armor sheathing it.

Eying Wraith carefully, The Doctor lowered his surrendering hands and placed them in his pockets.

"Maybe I am laying down on the field of battle with a head wound. That would explain all the ghosts haunting me right now." I muttered.

"Bloody Hell. Great, Kyle's gone all philosophical..."

The Doctor opened his mouth, opened his mouth to assure Wraith that he would get the hang of it, but it seemed that a conversation of greater import needed to take place.

"No my Lord, you are fit and hale, though I wouldn't rule out spirits haunting you. You tend to leave things broken when you get worked up." said a voice I knew very well from the doorway.

"Oh dear Lady of Shadows, who let YOU out of your cage?" I said, then walked over and embraced him.

The Doctor smirked faintly, and withdrew to the side of the room, let the two lords of Shadow have their little chat. Removing his coat and hanging it on the hilt of one of a pair of swords crossed on the wall, he pulled up a chair and put his feet up on a table. Popping his glasses into a pocket, he smiled softly at the Merick image, and at Jonah.

"Blimey," he murmured. "And I thought the end of The Universe was humbling. These side-trips give me a whole new perspective. Come back from the dead, and thirty seconds later, it's like you've been there all along."

At which point, his eyes slid across to Merick. "Which, I suppose you'd know something about that. Then again, I've said it before, 'Astral holography has come a long way since I was in school.' Jonah, he's one of yours, I take it? Still, it's good to see you again, both of you, either way."

Your tellin' me about side trips? Good to see you too Ja- er... that isn't right anymore is it? No matter. You look well. I like the shoes." Merick grinned the same grin he had so many times during his lessons with Jamie and Ceri. That same foolish grin that may or may not have been part of why his fights with Chloe never lasted over long. "I've missed you. All of you s'matter o'fact."

"Good to see you. How have you been? Can't say I am terribly surprised. Nabu tells interesting stories."

"You look well brother. I take it the men are back to their wives and mothers, so you though to come here and play nursemaid." I said to my warleader.

"Someone has to. I hear you left us for a time and went back to your birth world. Now I see you are back, with a ghost and more to keep you entertained." His expression turned serious. "Kyle, I though you vowed to never draw that infernal blade unless you had no other option. Why is it free of the prison you placed it in?"

"S'weird," The Doctor murmured, to the two Tennylson lads, jutting his chin in the direction of the warriors of Shadow. "S'like hearing one half of a phone conversation. My, ah, ship, she can translate telepathically. But she's smart enough not to try and get inside Kyle's head, there's a recipe for disaster if ever I've whiffed one. I've picked up a little bit of the language, having it filter through my mind, but not all of it."

I rubbed my hand over my face. "I don't know. I've been...off lately. Quick to anger, quick to strike, not holding back...."

The Doctor quieted at this. He remembered being that man. Surviving a war and running into an enemy survivor underground in a madman's museum.

Sometimes he was that man, still.

Kind of a lot had happened since then.

I slammed my fist down into my palm, the sound cracking like a gunshot in the stone room. "Thats it!" I said in English this time, dropping the Shadowspeak I had been using.

"'Erewego," The Doctor murmured, watching Wraith like a hawk.

Merick stiffened. Stopped slouching on the window and shifted, ready to move if need be.

"Hell has chosen a champion, and it must be someone of power. It's affecting me, since the Scions are linked. Making me more aggressive, more.. feral I guess. But now I know, and can guard against it."

"Maybe its Red Herring!" Merick, never one to let a serious situation detract from his sense of humor chuckled slightly as he quipped.

I turned and looked at James Hamilton, my unblinking gaze looking into his. "Why have you returned father? Why now, after all these years?"

He rose from his chair. And his eyes were dark and full of secrets.

"Oh, I've been around," he nodded slowly. "You've lived your life in a straight line. Mine's been more like, well--" he glanced at the summoning of Merick, an astral hologram given sentience and solidity, well done "--folding back the pages of a book, if I might borrow a metaphor."

Merick nodded and continued to grin.

He stood there in his black suit and his green shoes.

"Why am I here, you ask?" he tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at Wraith. "Well. Same reason you are, mate."

"'Our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it;" he recited, meaningfully, from Chesterton.
"'Our seers said 'Peace,' and it was not peace;
Earth will grow worse till men redeem it,
And wars more evil, ere all wars cease.'"

He smiled, just a sad little knowing little smile. "I'm here for the same reason you are, the same reason Jonah's here, the same reason Merick's come to visit from The Undiscovered Country. We're here to save the world."

The smile faded, and his face grew hard as stone, his eyes harder still.

"'He is awake.'"

Jonah considered Kyle for a moment. "And Kyle, before you throw us out, remember please the sacrifice I made for The Legion, I can't get home. At least not with out a lost of luck, and maybe a little synchronicity. Your kinda my ride home."

The Doctor. Shadow.

"It can't be James. It's can't. We buried you. I held Rose as she cried, she held me. You died James."

"Well, yes," The Doctor nodded, considering Wraith's suggested course of events. "And... well... no."

I lowered Dirge, no longer threatening anyone with the blade. I lowered my head, looking down, then slung the blade onto my back, my armor sheathing it.

Eying Wraith carefully, The Doctor lowered his surrendering hands and placed them in his pockets.

"Maybe I am laying down on the field of battle with a head wound. That would explain all the ghosts haunting me right now." I muttered.

"Bloody Hell. Great, Kyle's gone all philosophical..."

The Doctor opened his mouth, opened his mouth to assure Wraith that he would get the hang of it, but it seemed that a conversation of greater import needed to take place.

"No my Lord, you are fit and hale, though I wouldn't rule out spirits haunting you. You tend to leave things broken when you get worked up." said a voice I knew very well from the doorway.

"Oh dear Lady of Shadows, who let YOU out of your cage?" I said, then walked over and embraced him.

The Doctor smirked faintly, and withdrew to the side of the room, let the two lords of Shadow have their little chat. Removing his coat and hanging it on the hilt of one of a pair of swords crossed on the wall, he pulled up a chair and put his feet up on a table. Popping his glasses into a pocket, he smiled softly at the Merick image, and at Jonah.

"Blimey," he murmured. "And I thought the end of The Universe was humbling. These side-trips give me a whole new perspective. Come back from the dead, and thirty seconds later, it's like you've been there all along."

At which point, his eyes slid across to Merick. "Which, I suppose you'd know something about that. Then again, I've said it before, 'Astral holography has come a long way since I was in school.' Jonah, he's one of yours, I take it? Still, it's good to see you again, both of you, either way."

Your tellin' me about side trips? Good to see you too Ja- er... that isn't right anymore is it? No matter. You look well. I like the shoes." Merick grinned the same grin he had so many times during his lessons with Jamie and Ceri. That same foolish grin that may or may not have been part of why his fights with Chloe never lasted over long.

The Doctor met Merick's gaze across the room, and despite the import of everything going on, he couldn't resist the urge to let his own Puckish smile leap into play. Nothing more infectious than a smile.

"Bit of a tribute, ennit?" he glanced at his feet, and back up at Merick. "'All my love to long ago.' As for these fanciful notions of names not being proper... well. Quite right."

"I've missed you. All of you s'matter o'fact."

"Good to see you. How have you been? Can't say I am terribly surprised. Nabu tells interesting stories."

"Nabu," The Doctor nodded slowly, with understanding dawning. "Ah, me, stuffy oul' git, bit puritanical. Still, a good sort. Didn't half know his way around an incantation. Painted a little glyph of my transportation on one of Khufu's walls, inside joke. An 'Easter Egg' in Ancient Egypt, love that."

He nodded respectfully to Jonah, though there was good-natured teasing on the end of it. "We missed you when you went. Just like Lizzy. 'If I'd known then what I know now.' Still. Home is where the heart is, you seem to be doing all right. (For a man who gives the shirt off his back to any bint what asks, mind you.)"

"You look well brother. I take it the men are back to their wives and mothers, so you though to come here and play nursemaid." I said to my warleader.

"Someone has to. I hear you left us for a time and went back to your birth world. Now I see you are back, with a ghost and more to keep you entertained." His expression turned serious. "Kyle, I though you vowed to never draw that infernal blade unless you had no other option. Why is it free of the prison you placed it in?"

"S'weird," The Doctor murmured, to the two Tennylson lads, jutting his chin in the direction of the warriors of Shadow. "S'like hearing one half of a phone conversation. My, ah, ship, she can translate telepathically. But she's smart enough not to try and get inside Kyle's head, there's a recipe for disaster if ever I've whiffed one. I've picked up a little bit of the language, having it filter through my mind, but not all of it."

I rubbed my hand over my face. "I don't know. I've been...off lately. Quick to anger, quick to strike, not holding back...."

The Doctor quieted at this.

I slammed my fist down into my palm, the sound cracking like a gunshot in the stone room. "Thats it!" I said in English this time, dropping the Shadowspeak I had been using.

"'Erewego," The Doctor murmured, watching Wraith like a hawk.

Merick stiffened. Stopped slouching on the window and shifted, ready to move if need be.

"Hell has chosen a champion, and it must be someone of power. It's affecting me, since the Scions are linked. Making me more aggressive, more.. feral I guess. But now I know, and can guard against it."

"Maybe its Red Herring!" Merick, never one to let a serious situation detract from his sense of humor chuckled slightly as he quipped.

The Doctor ticked an extended thumb to Merick, those dark eyes dancing, a grin dancing across one side of his face. "Somebody get this lad a Scooby Snack. Puh-ronto."

I turned and looked at James Hamilton, my unblinking gaze looking into his. "Why have you returned father? Why now, after all these years?"

He rose from his chair. And his eyes were dark and full of secrets.

"Oh, I've been around," he nodded slowly. "You've lived your life in a straight line. Mine's been more like, well--" he glanced at the summoning of Merick, an astral hologram given sentience and solidity, well done "--folding back the pages of a book, if I might borrow a metaphor."

Merick nodded and continued to grin.

The Doctor winked smoothly at Merick. "Fair play to you, eh?"

He stood there in his black suit and his green shoes.

"Why am I here, you ask?" he tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at Wraith. "Well. Same reason you are, mate."

"'Our chiefs said 'Done,' and I did not deem it;" he recited, meaningfully, from Chesterton.
"'Our seers said 'Peace,' and it was not peace;
Earth will grow worse till men redeem it,
And wars more evil, ere all wars cease.'"

He smiled, just a sad little knowing little smile. "I'm here for the same reason you are, the same reason Jonah's here, the same reason Merick's come to visit from The Undiscovered Country. We're here to save the world."

The smile faded, and his face grew hard as stone, his eyes harder still.

"'He is awake.'"

Jonah considered Kyle for a moment. "And Kyle, before you throw us out, remember please the sacrifice I made for The Legion, I can't get home. At least not with out a lost of luck, and maybe a little synchronicity. Your kinda my ride home."

"Well," The Doctor mused, and this was a bit of a catchphrase in its own right, just the way he said it. "I've been known to take on passengers from. Time to Time. Nothing long-term, you understand. 'Special Guest Star.' That is, if our illustrious host is too pre-occupied with warleaders and the like."

He gestured, conciliatory, to that warleader. "No offence."