Last Daughter of Krypton: Legion IC

It was dark. It's always dark. This is how he preferred to work. He had been hunting for three god forsaken days now. Through this post apocalyptic hell. Time meant nothing. He no longer slept. He no longer ate, unless he wanted to. He had been moving for three days now. He finally reached the place. It was once a ziggurat to some unknown deity, no it was the stronghold of a mad man and his followers.

He reached down and tooka long curved blade from its sheath. He moved quickly toward the ziggurat. There were 3 men stationed at the stairs. Two died before they had even seen the threat. The third was suspended from the ground from one of his hands with the wickedly curved blade at his throat.

I am goin ta make this simple ferya. Bring me to the idol, you live. Try to hide it, or alert yer friends, I gut ya."

The guard whimpers pathetically and gestures toward an obscured entrance beside the staircase.

He drops his new guide and indicates from him to lead.

The inside is only slightly less dark than the outside. He could see the glyphs and runes carved on the walls, though not well enough to read them. Soon they entered a chamber. There was a tall man with a goatee and military style clothing sitting on a dais. Holding the idol. Surrounded by would be worshipers of this false god.

He shoved his guide aside and enters.

"You got somethin there don't rightly b'long to ya. Thing is, I'm here ta take it back. So... either we do this nice, you give it to me, and I leave... or... I am going to cut you into 3,469 pieces. One fer every life you have ruined with this little crusade. Yer choice."

The man on the dais stands slowly drawing his gun.

Seems to me, you have come to the wrong party. See, I intend to keep this here idol. With this, I will eventually take over this land. Then the world. With him as my tool of destruction, no one will stand in my way. Especially an old man like you."

The man opens fire. Several rounds find purchase, center mass as the old man is thrown back by the force of the blows.

"This is what happens when you oppose my regime! With this idol, I am unstoppable! All who oppose will die!"

With a soft grunt the old man stands and brushes sand from himself.

"My turn."

The old man springs forward. His first slash severs the hand holding the idol. His second slices the gun and the hand holding it in two. Then the fun begins.

As fine crimson mist disperses the old man is left holding the idol. A wicked grin crosses his face as he looks done and slices a finger neatly in half among the refuse.

There. 3,469. Just like I promised. YOU!. The old man gestures to one of the many people that had been gathered, seemingly in worship. "You go forth, you tell the people, they are free. You tell them that. And if anyone has ideas about tryin ter step up and replace this sorry sonofabitch, you tell them, I ain't standin fer it. Not fer a second. And this, this is comin home. Where it belongs. You fools don't realize what you almost let free. GO! TELL THEM WHAT HAPPENED HERE! NOW!"

The old man watches as they flee. In a twirl of sand he is gone.

As the old man is putting the idol in it's case he smiles as he hears a soft crash in the next room.

"Dammit Lu, you better not be makin a mess in there! You know how particular he is!

Smiling Lu Yan enters the vault. "Good eve-ah-ning. Nothah successful trip. Vehry nice. I 'ave news. You ah needed on Earth. Seems a chil' o' dream is to be involve in big mess. You need make sure Daniel inves'ment no' wasted."

"Hrn. Fine. Whatever. Leave the details. I'll leave in a minute."

"One mo'ah ting ol' friend... I 'ave brough' you gift. We can not ave you walk in like this. An' rememba, play nice! You will be joining the Legion. If unofficially." Lu Yan smiles as he pulls a bundle out of his robe. "You shall take this. Discretion vehry impohrtan'."

With that, Lu Yan disappears. The old man grins as he opens the pack. Quickly he changes. There is small sandstorm as he disappears from the vault. He appears quietly outside the building. Gathering his thoughts for a moment, he allows his consciousness to reach out to the Legion.

My name is The Sandman. I come at your hour of need. Please, send forth an emissary so I may make a proper introduction...

Timber Wolf had been on his way to the showers when the call went out. He almost ran into Cham rounding a corner.

"What the sprock is goin on?"

"No idea TW. I was just searching VM3's place then the call went out. Lets hope everything is ok... Empress couldn't have moved this fast could she?"

"Maybe... if she has I can't wait to get my hands on 'er. Lets go!"

The two sprinted into the hall just in time to here the speech. Cham smiled. He always thought there was something special about Mr. Brande. Cham looked at Timber Wolf, who nodded.

"Tell us what is needed. We are at your disposal."

Interlude II: The Past is Prologue. (Apologies to Morrison, thanks to Wyld and Brax.)


A tapestry of corpses flowed sinuous across the orbit of the ancient globe, miraculous technology and meteoroidal chunks of terrain intermingling with the microgravitational dead.

The bodies had had significant gravity before they were cast off the moorings of their once-magnificent homeworld; they were Brobdingnagian in size, dwarfing mere humans.

And into this orbit, this ever-turning mausoleum, there came a crackle and a hum of energy beyond life.

Blue-white lightning bubbled and spat, expanding into a sphere, and at the centre of that sphere sat a god with a goddess on either side.

This god, sat upon a verdant chair of unfathomable power, was Metron, most mysterious of The New Gods, seemingly unaligned with neither blessed Highfather Takion nor terrible Darkseid. To his left was Big Barda, born of Apokolips but bravely sworn to defend New Genesis. To his right was Diana of Themyscira, onetime Goddess of Truth upon Olympus of Earth.

And they were dismayed.

"Great Hera!" Wonder Woman cried, drinking in the bodies ricocheting off of bodies in the impossible slow motion of orbital speeds. "What terrible graveyard is this, Metron? Where are we?"

Metron leaned forward slightly in his throne, and frowned grave eyebrows into the blight. "The Mobius Chair has delivered us to the limits of Space and Time. And this was Wonderworld.

"Home of the greatest super-champions of our Universe: the most powerful, most wondrous of their kind."

Knifing down from orbit, The Mobius Chair shielded its three passengers with that aura of blue-white power. "Let us descend to investigate their ruin."

An infrasonic hum like the sombre sound of the Universe mourning accompanied their hovering to a halt on the onetime Wonderworld's shattered surface. Outcroppings of stone jutted at random from the wasteland, and the atmosphere was noxious fume.

"All dead!" Barda spat, vicious, incredulous, disappointed. "So much for your army of supermen, Metron. We stand alone..."

Diana was more... introspective. "Wonderworld?" she murmured, half to herself. "Aquaman mentioned a Wonderworld..."

Metron explained: "Here on The Ultimate Rim of All Things, these legions met to defend The Cosmos against the archaeo-technology buried in The Primal Pit which encircles The Universe..."

Charging ahead, Barda dismissed this hyperbole: "Something went wrong, then? We need to know what happened here, Metron."

Barda's Motherbox spoke to her, raising a plaintive cry.

PING.
PING.
PING.

"Mother Box senses life," Barda reported, still striding forward, Diana not far behind her, "but I see no sign of..."

But Diana's senses were sharp as Artemis the Huntress, and she had stopped and crouched above a pile of shattered granite brick. "Here! Look!"

And there he was, clad all in white with a faceshield of blue, barely inches tall and sprawled atop that brick. His uniform was burned in places, and still smouldering in others.

"So small, he's barely visible..." Diana described, gingerly scooping him up in a cup made from her hand. "...like The Atom. His heart's still beating, but it's so fast, like a bird's..."

The minuscle creature began to stir in her palm, and Diana firmly, bravely consoled him. "It's all right. My name's Wonder Woman. Barda and Metron of New Genesis are here with me. We're here to help."

All he could do was shake his head, his voice the tiniest breath on the wind, difficult for even Diana's ears to hear: [SIZE="-2"]"No, too late... too late... The Anti-Sun is risen... from The Abyss... The world's mantle cracked... the stars turned to blood... over so quickly, The Great Seals shattered... first shockwave tore three moons from their moorings..."[/SIZE]

He drew in breath, and released it in agonised sadness. [SIZE="-2"]"...and then it was over."[/SIZE]

Struggling to fill his lungs, the tiny champion nevertheless continued.

[SIZE="-2"]"...Eve One tried to... rally us against the power of The Anti-Sun, but... it was so much stronger than we'd imagined... All our lives... dedicated to this moment... pledged to protect The Universe from annihilation... and... and... we failed. Turned on one another and made war... forgive us... it's free... The Anti-Sun, dragging its broken chains across the stars... nothing can... nothing..."

"..."[/SIZE]

He fell to silence.

Diana knelt there with him in her hands for a long, long moment, and then pronounced: "He's dead."

Seated in his Mobius Chair, Metron's face was deep in shadow, his emotionlessly mechanical voice somehow imbued with deepest sorrow. "This was once a Heaven."

Squaring his shoulders, he returned to the bitter business at hand. "Our fears are confirmed: If Wonderworld has fallen, there is no one to stand against The Warbringer."

Diana sat up, then, setting the Lilliputian Wonderworlder back on the brick on which she'd found him, and spoke words to Metron which few beings, gods or mortals, dared ever speak to him: "You're wrong, Metron."

Her determination was fierce, flashing in her blue blue eyes. Earth would stand against The Warbringer.

Metron seemed, and this was rare, to be given pause by this. Or perhaps he was conversing with his Mobius Chair.

"Be that as it may," he intoned, "we should abscond this locus."

"Twelve light-years Galactic West of Earth. There is something we need to see. We are done here: another moment is scheduled to occur."

OMMMMMMMM...

Again the lightning crackled. And where once they had been, they were gone.

Silence reigned for a moment.

And then another sound began to echo in that place, a sound of great import and majesty and beauty and sadness and agony.

VWORRRP. VWORRRP. VWORRRP.

There in the wreckage of the mythic city of Omnitropolis, the dusts of the world once called Mammord, made the legend called Wonderworld, forged by The New Gods of The Fourth World to defend against the devastations and depredations of The Third, there came a humble blue wooden box.

The door swung open and a man in a blue suit and green shoes and a billowy brown coat stumbled out, grinning gleefully.

"Oh, you've missed me, too, have you?" he grinned at The Blue Box, beamed at it, exulted at it, "I can't blame you, I have missed you, too. Oh, it was a good life, can't argue that, eighty-five years human, but you, I have missed you. And you've missed this, such a massive jump, stretching your legs after spending eight and a half decades underground eking by on emergency power, I don't even know where we are, now, don't even know when we are."

He paused, and frowned, and scritched at a scraggly brown sideburn which until minutes ago had been the silvery-white of a human old man. "Come to think of it, we've got to start from square one, don't we? Learning the whole geography of this Universe, the history, finding out all of the Everything that's replaced our timeline, that'll be... that'll be... fun...? ...right?"

The Doctor trailed off as he slowly turned around and discovered where his machine had brought him.

He stopped, still, stunned. "...blimey."

"So many dead, so many."

"Was this what Gallifrey looked like, after I--"

He clawed his hand through his hair, his face a mess of a mask of agony. "Why would you bring me here?"

And from a brick on the ground in front of him, there came the rattle of a creature small as a mouse battling desperately for another fistful of life.

(Diana's senses were sharp indeed, but they were not infallible.)

In a heartsbeat, The Doctor was on his knees, his glasses were on, his stethoscope was out. "Oh, blimey, you poor thing, hang on, hang on hang on--"

The tiny man's tiny hand clutched at The Doctor's pinky, his voice a tiny plea: [SIZE="-2"]"--no. Just... just listen... they left... they left before I could warn them..."

"Mageddon..."[/SIZE]

The Doctor frowned, shook his head. "Oh, no, it's okay, I remember Mageddon. We beat him, I remember, they'll beat it. They will, they have, I remember this one, Wraith helped Orion and a Green Lantern in the heart of the machine, Supergirl ate its Anti-Sunlight like Sunday roast, thousands died but-- we beat it. It's okay."

The tiny man twitched and trembled, and shook his head, lolling his masked face from side to side. [SIZE="-2"]"...Mageddon is just the beginning. Nothing... nothing can prepare you... for what comes next..."[/SIZE]

The Doctor stopped, great and terrible fear stabbing through his hearts. "What?"

[SIZE="-2"]"...Mageddon... is a weapon... forged by The Old Gods in The Third World... but there was a Second World... and a First... and before that the oblivion of night in which sparked Creation... and there were things in that night... things The Old Gods merely imitated, tried to copy, such was their destructiveness... Urgrund of The Old Gods fell to an imitation... but if one small toy... inspired by the reality... could wreak such havoc..."[/SIZE]

The tiny man shuddered.

[SIZE="-2"]"...how much greater and more terrible the danger... the real thing would pose..."

"...how much greater and more terrible... The Ones That Came Before..."[/SIZE]

The Doctor gazed quietly at the tiny man, and put away the stethoscope, quietly plucked the glasses off of his face. "There must be a way to stop this. What must I do?"

Spasming less violently now, the tiny man nodded.

[SIZE="-2"]"The Second Coming of The Graveyard Lord will be the first sign."[/SIZE]

Another, struggling, rattling breath.

[SIZE="-2"]"As Wonderworld and New Genesis... have been... to The Fourth World..."

"...Earth will be to The Fifth that is to come."

"Preserve the Earth. Defend it."

"With lightning, and with chemicals."

"For Wonderworld. For Life."

"Prepare... The Armies of Man."[/SIZE]

And he was gone.

And this time, he was beyond returning.

"I'm sorry," The Doctor murmured, for what felt like the first time in a long time. "I'm so sorry."

Leaving him to rest, The Doctor rose to his feet, and stared to nowhere for a moment.

"Okay," he murmured to The TARDIS, jaw set and face grim and eyes dark with resentment and yet resolve. "Back to work."

Rubbing the back of his head, he tried again: "But really, I meant-- his father, his actual biological progenitor. He works in the kitchen. I guarantee you he'd make a better sandwich than the autobutler."

“Perhaps,” Allana began as the Green Man returned, escorting several others, and for some reason the hairs on her neck quivered and stood on end as a chilly feeling rolled over her soul.

Looking at the newcomers more closely, and wishing she had the enhanced auspex of the suit to provide a better analysis, Allana watched them as the entered and crossed the room.

And she heard their words, she heard them. And felt them.

"Zod has escaped from the Phantom Zone, and he has been imbued with the powers of Hell. You face a challenge never before unleashed upon this world. More will be revealed once your benefactor returns."

Zod. The Dark One. The unspeakable name. The Forbidden One.

"I am J'onn J'onzz of Mal'ecand'ra," the Green Man said.

"I thought he was dead?" someone in the back whispered.

And Allana squinted, her mind processing a twisted language that was so similar to her own. Ma’lecan’dra, The old name for the Green Knight. The Knight of Spring and summer. With Autumns arrival he faded and died to be reborn again in the coming spring.

"The only way to defeat Zod and his followers will be to stand united against him. We will be tested in battle against him. Zod is powerful indeed, but his might and that of those that believe in him will be few. Our name is LEGION, for WE ARE MANY!."

"Zod will not win! He WILL NOT enslave this world! So long as I have breath in me, so long as Mars exists, then I will use every power at my command to stop him!"

J'onn raised his fist and the ring on his finger glowed brightly, matching the fire, strength and determination in his heart and in his soul.

"Legion! Will you stand with me?!"

"*WILL YOU STAND AGAINST ZOD*?"

"I will stand with you," A blonde female finally said, breaking her silence as she rose up onto her feet, even floating up into the air a little.

Moving forward, Allana slipped her blade free of it’s scabbard and once cleared of the crowd she knelt at the bottom of the dias, her blade resting on the back of her hands, her words sot but carefully chosen.

“Castle Nevermourn, holding of the Heirs of Lang of the House of Kent, of the Kingdom of Caer Lial pledges its support, If thou wilst havest mine Blade and Shield and Might of Arm. I will standest with thou, and shall not faulter in thine duties.”

And looking up she Gazed upon the Ring Bearer, The Green Knight, and he who walked in the darkest night, with the Heraldry of a Black Bat rising over a full moon, delivering the will of the Justice of Truth, The Black Knight. She wasn’t sure whom the Blonde was, yet, but in time she was sure she’d figure out whom was whom, and which of them had once sat at the Great Council. Which of them were reborn Knights and Ladies of old, and which of them were new.

The last Legionnaire through the door was their leader, Cosmic Boy. He literally flew through the door, stopping by the green skinned kid with the really bad name.

"OK Brainy, this is your call. Whats going on?" I heard him ask.

As soon as Cos was in the door, Jaymie realised she needed to speak with him; she needed to ask him something. It was like a fist in her heart and a heart in her throat and she needed to check, she was away from Wraith's side and hurrying towards Cos--

Brainiac opened his mouth to exposit, but there were voices louder than his, expectorating forth revelations with greater reverberation and verisimilitude than his mere, educated cultured tones could provide.

Before the kid could reply, I said, loud enough for the room to hear, "Zod has escaped from the Phantom Zone, and he has been imbued with the powers of Hell. You face a challenge never before unleashed upon this world. More will be revealed once your benefactor returns."

M'onel paled. And staggered a bit. And even in Earth's negligible gravity, even under the golden light of Sol, he felt weak, felt the pain of a thousand timeless years of abuse at that villain's hands.

Again. Not again. No...

Hell indeed.

"Zod!" Garth murmured, his cyborg fist clenched, his face pale. "Accursed Zod, Scourge of a--"

He paused. And looked at Brainiac. "Okay, no, who's Zod?"

Brainiac 5 stared to nowhere for a moment. "Zor-El was the father of Brainiac 1. Zod was, for lack of more eloquent terminology, Brainiac 1's 'Evil Step-Dad.' Among other star-shattering crimes, he has directly or indirectly doomed my family to pariahism and, in other extreme cases, supervillainy."

"By Valor..." Kid Quantum breathed, touching Brainy's shoulder, in empathy and understanding far surpassing Querl's dim opinion of Jazmin's brother.

"Affirmative," Querl muttered.

Others had come. Brainiac 2 remembered these ones, until his... dispersion in 2047. And just as he had the memories of Brainiac 1, BRAINIAC, Querl Dox had the memories of Brainiac 2, submerged deep within his consciousness.

The Bat and his Bird.

Jungian archetypes, recurring.

Deja vu all over again.

Interesting.

J'onn entered and heard the last of Wraith's words. He stopped and took a long look at Wraith, then motioned his head towards a raised dias that stood in front of the statues. It was clear J'onn wished for Wraith to join him on the dias. He motioned for The Batman and his Remnant to make themselves comfortable among the gathered heroes.

The Dark Knight gestured to his Dark Squire, and after a moment of consideration, Carrie sat, Batman beside her.

The Martian Manhunter took Liz's hand in his own as he lead her to the platform. He stepped upon it, and as his cape settled its movement about his shoulders, he turned to face the Legion of Superheroes.

Moving beside him, Liz reflected not for the first time on the import of J'onn's name.

She was a Light even on The Darkest of Days, that was her vocation and her calling. And J'onn was Light to The Light. He was her Light. And she smiled her rare smile without any hint of self-consciousness as she ascended beside him.

"Legion," J'onn began, his voice booming throughout the hall, "hear me!"

He had presence to command armies, to bring whole continents to their knees. The Legion shuddered into a collective hush.

Even some uncountable number of light-years away, on The Galtos, R.J.'s Angels stopped and stared at their Flight Rings as the message relayed, only hesitantly glancing up at each other with wonder.

When he had gathered their attention, he continued. "I am J'onn J'onzz of Mal'ecand'ra," he informed them.

"I thought he was dead?" someone in the back whispered.

Standing beside Cos, Jaymie stared in wonder. Her brain, shaken by the trauma of the death of Candi and other friends, rattled by the appearance of her long-lost ancestor and all the great and terrible events of the day, had lost in its memories something she had remembered quite easily earlier. She had known who J'onn J'onzz was.

But she was starting to get better, here in her old new armour, she was starting to awaken from the slumber of her wounded mind, and she knew that name. She knew that name. The missing statue. The lost legacy. The absent friend.

"'The Dead Yet Live,'" she breathed in reply to that someone in the back.

J'onn's head turned towards the whispered voice. "I am Mars' sole survivor," he explained. "There is a reason for that. As long as there is Mars, then so will I be."

"I have always been among you," he told them, his voice somewhat softer now, "and I have always been watching, ever vigilant for the time when enemies would return. Ages ago, Apokolyps sent agents to hunt me, and in so doing, placed the lives of those I cared for in jeopardy. An intergalactic war began at my expense, and ultimately culminated in the Battle of Sanctuary, where Darkseid's minions were put down and driven back.

Liz closed her eyes. She was a fast healer. It had taken her a long time to heal from that day. She'd lost so much.

Only now did she know how much she'd lost, only now that she was getting some of it back.

"This, however, caused me to consider that as long as I remained, then there would always be this danger. So, I allowed myself to pass quietly into the realm of the forgotten.

Carrie gazed hard at The Martian. She knew what it was like to sacrifice one's identity. To be forgotten.

"I returned to Earth, and I assumed the identity of R. J. Brande," J'onn said as he shifted into Brande's familiar form.

Gasps arose from the audience, stunned silence, stunned realisation. Startled looks were exchanged.

M'onel closed his eyes, remembering the conversation on the rooftop. So many mysteries explained. Raya's friend had been right in front of him this whole time. Emotions mixed in him like a cyclone, he had so many questions in reply to all of these answers. But this was J'onn J'onzz. Zod's capture by Kryptonian forces, Raya had told him, had been at J'onn's hands.

J'onzz would keep them safe.

...wouldn't he?

"Jumping fish-hooks," Matter-Eater Lad qualified simply.

"Under this guise I was able to adapt technologies I had encountered in my travels to use for the pursuit of that ideal I hold most treasured: justice.

Rond Vidar held his head in his hands, dawning epiphany. "Of course. The Erdel Technology. The StarGates..."

"I found you," he said as he stepped off the dias towards Cosmic Boy, and he shifted back to his Manhunter uniform. "And through you I was able to fulfill an oath sworn so many, many millenia ago." He placed his head on Cos's shoulder. "Each of you have proven yourself worthy of the title of Manhunter time and time again. You have brought peace where there was violence, courage where there was fear, and hope" his Blue Ring flashed brightly as he said that word, "where there was despair.

Jaymie stood next to Cosmic Boy as The Manhunter greeted Cos as a father greets a son, as a progenitor greets a true inheritor, and just standing next to them, Jaymie stood all the taller.

"I am so very proud of you all."

Jaymie closed her eyes and heard the words from J'onn that she'd never heard from her own father. And she was at peace as a tear danced down her cheek.

J'onn turned and took up his place beside Liz and Wraith on the platform. "It is now time," he explained, "to shed my ruse and let my true identity be know. I have deceived you, and I ask that you forgive my deception. Old friends have returned," he looked at Liz for a moment, "and love discovered among one thought lost so long ago."

Liz stood beside him, her arms crossed over her stomach, and she simply nodded to him. But her Ring, responding to her Will, responding to her mind, a tendril of Green energy extended from that Ring and manifested in a hand. Not a giant fist, nor a boxing glove, not a karate chop, but a hand that held out its thumb and fingers in the manner of American Sign Language, telling J'onn: 'I love you.'

Then, J'onn indicated The Batman and his Robin, the newest Green Lantern, and the Knight who had recently arrived. "And new friends have come among us."

Batman, too, inclined his head. The Remnant placed her palms together and bowed respectfully as well as she could while seated, as if saying 'Namaste.'

'(My Light honours your Light.)'

Teen Lantern put his fists together, both fists with both Rings, and mimicked this bow. He would uphold both legacies, 'till his time was past.

J'onn's voice grew stronger as he spoke next. "Wraith has told you, there is a new enemy who has reared his ugly head. This enemy was once a great Kryptonian general and leader, but he has become a tyrant who seeks nothing other than complete submission.

M'onel held his side. He remembered the pain of every shattered rib. He remembered the pain of all those ribs healing when his powers had come back.

He remembered desperately wanting to kneel, but The General hadn't even been satisfied with that. Never enough.

"This enemy is Zod."

Again, The Legion was rattled. Again this name stabbed deep and dark into the memories of those who had heard the stories.

Including Jaymie. Including Brainiac 5. Including Lar Gand.

J'onn let the murmers die down before he continued. "This information comes from trusted sources, yet we do not know Zod's location at this time. However, I can assure you he will come for us. He will come for Earth, as Earth has always been his intended conquer. He will seek out those who imprisnoned him, and those who are their descendants.

Liz remembered Zod's defiant murmur to hers and Lar's and The Doctor's backs as they climbed the dune away from him in The Phantom Zone.

("You will," he rasped, "kneel before Zod. You, whatever you call yourself now, you and your heirs.")

She didn't quite shiver. She was not afraid.

"The only way to defeat Zod and his followers will be to stand united against him. We will be tested in battle against him. Zod is powerful indeed, but his might and that of those that believe in him will be few. Our name is LEGION, for WE ARE MANY!."

("Mark," The Remnant murmured. "Chapter 5 verse 9. Demonic imagery. When our foe has 'The Power of Hell?'"

Batman nodded. "Fight fire with fire. I call it The Eleventh Commandment. 'Thou shalt do whatever it takes.'"

The Remnant absorbed this. "Hurm. Good.")

The Martian Manhunter's voice echoed throughout the hall. His eyes flared red as he made a new promise. "Zod will not win! He WILL NOT enslave this world! So long as I have breath in me, so long as Mars exists, then I will use every power at my command to stop him!" The Blue Ring began to thrum with power, and J'onn raised his fist over his head as the Ring began to shine brightly.

Jazmin closed her eyes, and smiled, and nodded, as around her numerous fists shot to the sky, including Rond's fist with his Green Ring, and Liz' with hers... "(Amen.)"

"Legion! Will you stand with me?!"

"WILL YOU STAND AGAINST ZOD?"

"I will stand with you," Caroline finally said, breaking her silence as she rose up onto her feet, even floating up into the air a little.

Moving forward, Allana slipped her blade free of it’s scabbard and once cleared of the crowd she knelt at the bottom of the dias, her blade resting on the back of her hands, her words sot but carefully chosen.

“Castle Nevermourn, holding of the Heirs of Lang of the House of Kent, of the Kingdom of Caer Lial pledges its support, If thou wilst havest mine Blade and Shield and Might of Arm. I will standest with thou, and shall not faulter in thine duties.”

And Chameleon spoke for the rest, they didn't even need to put it to a vote, he said these words-- "Tell us what is needed. We are at your disposal." --and the rest of The Legion rose as one.

They stood.

With J'onn.

Against Zod.

Even Gates, Ti'julk Mr'asz, curled up at the back of The Assembly Hall between Kent Shakespeare and Kinetix, he couldn't help but believe in this, in The People rising up as one against oppression. But as usual, he disguised his belief beneath layers of dubiousness.

"Typical," he grumbled. "He wants to disguise himself, he wants to look 'normal,' he could look like anything in The Universe with those powers and what does he go for? A pale pink bipedally symmetrical vertebrate. Sprock! Such a sell-out, cowtowing to the majority."

Kent smirked at that. "Okay, Gates, tell me this: where better to stage a revolution than from the inside? Isn't that why you're here?"

Gates frowned, and opened his beak to make a snappy comeback. But found himself interrupted.

Kinetix grabbed his arm and clutched her own head. "Guys, d'you feel that? Like a ghost on my grave. It's like magic, it's like... metamagic."

And then a voice touched her consciousness, and echoing forth from her mind, with its affinity for magic, Gates and Kent heard a voice:
My name is The Sandman. I come at your hour of need. Please, send forth an emissary so I may make a proper introduction...

Kinetix's eyes widened and she had to use her own telekinesis to keep herself from toppling. "We need someone to go to Legion Plaza. Invite him in."

Kent immediately shot a glance at the Vyrgan. "Gates!"

Gates scowled. "You're almost as fast as Ognats when you get going, why don't you go?"

Kent just looked at him, those hard-ass patriarchal eyes that had once stared down The Persuader and lived.

Gates harrumphed. "Fine, sprockit."

And in a shimmer, he was gone.

Unaware of all of this, having relegated her Very Important Question to the background for now, Jaymie touched Cosmic Boy's shoulder in the midst of all the triumph and the pledges of support.

"Cos," she murmured. "You have to say it."

"You have to."


In Legion Plaza, a shimmering black-and-green circle opened in spacetime and Gates slithered through it, stopping suddenly, sharply, when he beheld The Sandman.

"Oh, hey," he seemed to brighten. "Finally someone else of the arthropodal persuasion, I seriously started to think that maybe I was--"

Then he stopped.

And grimaced. "You're-- just wearing a mask, aren't you. And metallics on your hands? Sprock. A fake exoskeleton on your face, I never--"

He paused, and cleared his prothorax, and decided to lay off for just once. "Right, fine. Can't fault your fashion sense. You coming?"

In Legion Plaza, a shimmering black-and-green circle opened in spacetime and Gates slithered through it, stopping suddenly, sharply, when he beheld The Sandman.

"Oh, hey," he seemed to brighten. "Finally someone else of the arthropodal persuasion, I seriously started to think that maybe I was--"

Then he stopped.

And grimaced. "You're-- just wearing a mask, aren't you. And metallics on your hands? Sprock. A fake exoskeleton on your face, I never--"

He paused, and cleared his prothorax, and decided to lay off for just once. "Right, fine. Can't fault your fashion sense. You coming?"[/QUOTE]

"Sorry. Hope I didn't get your hopes up too high. Thank you." The Sandman nods as he steps toward the portal created by Gates. "I appreciate your welcome. Heh. Take me to your leader."

Gates, Kent, Kinetix. Legion Plaza, Assembly Hall.

"Sorry. Hope I didn't get your hopes up too high. Thank you." The Sandman nods as he steps toward the portal created by Gates. "I appreciate your welcome. Heh. Take me to your leader."

"'Leader?'" Gates snarked. "I resent your assumption that I am not a free sentient."

He paused, and shook his head. "Oh, well. 'The tool, as we have seen, is not exterminated by the machine.'"

"C'mon."

And he led The Sandman through his gate, and into the back of The Assembly Hall.

Kent Shakespeare arched his eyebrows at the newcomer, wondering if this was some sort of medically-necessary respirator technology.

But Kinetix beat him to it.

If The Emerald Empress had a "good" counterpart in this Universe, it would be Zoe Saugin. The Empress hungered for power, for all manner of power, all sorts of the rarest of artefacts. She would have made a good Orange Lantern.

Zoe, too, craved power and the presence of the powerful, indeed she had gotten and refined her powers from the rarest of mystical archaeological finds.

The difference was, The Empress sought power to command and to control and to annihilate.

Kinetix sought power to improve herself and thereby improve her ability to help others, born of a desire to salve her mother's terrible wounds when she was a girl. It was this combination of ambition and altruism that had made her ideal for The Academy's teaching staff: she would encourage others to the betterment of themselves to the betterment of still further others.

In the presence of this Sandman, Kinetix sensed great power indeed.

The pretty little redhead with the green trappings waved at the man swathed in brown with the golden face and the hissing, gilded gloves, and she was awed, and she was fawning. "Heya."

Kent and Gates shared a look, and rolled their eyes.

"Sorry. Hope I didn't get your hopes up too high. Thank you." The Sandman nods as he steps toward the portal created by Gates. "I appreciate your welcome. Heh. Take me to your leader."

"'Leader?'" Gates snarked. "I resent your assumption that I am not a free sentient."

He paused, and shook his head. "Oh, well. 'The tool, as we have seen, is not exterminated by the machine.'"

"C'mon."

"We are all but tools in the hands of the Master. The Master is wise and guides us. We are all tools. So long as we choose a wise Master to which we align, I see no issue with being a tool. Forgive me. I did not intend to insult you. It was... a joke. From where I hale, that would have been funny. At least I like to think it would. You remind me of someone I knew once."

And he led The Sandman through his gate, and into the back of The Assembly Hall.

Kent Shakespeare arched his eyebrows at the newcomer, wondering if this was some sort of medically-necessary respirator technology.

But Kinetix beat him to it.

If The Emerald Empress had a "good" counterpart in this Universe, it would be Zoe Saugin. The Empress hungered for power, for all manner of power, all sorts of the rarest of artefacts. She would have made a good Orange Lantern.

Zoe, too, craved power and the presence of the powerful, indeed she had gotten and refined her powers from the rarest of mystical archaeological finds.

The difference was, The Empress sought power to command and to control and to annihilate.

Kinetix sought power to improve herself and thereby improve her ability to help others, born of a desire to salve her mother's terrible wounds when she was a girl. It was this combination of ambition and altruism that had made her ideal for The Academy's teaching staff: she would encourage others to the betterment of themselves to the betterment of still further others.

In the presence of this Sandman, Kinetix sensed great power indeed.

The pretty little redhead with the green trappings waved at the man swathed in brown with the golden face and the hissing, gilded gloves, and she was awed, and she was fawning. "Heya."

Kent and Gates shared a look, and rolled their eyes.

The Sandman removeded his hat and nodded. His golden mask covering him gleaned as he made this... bow.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am pleased to meet you. I am The Sandman. I am sorry for interrupting. I understand I have just missed a rather important speech."

The Sandman extends one of his gilded hands and grasps Kinetix's right hand gently, bowing as he brings the hand toward his face.

"Forgive me ma'am. These eyes have seen a great deal, but beauty such as yours is not a sight I have seen much of in a long time. You know my name, but I do not know yours?"

Wildfire had entered quietly. He was in awe of the speech by the Martian. This was a real life member of the League. This was... amazing. Wildfire stood shocked as the Martian spoke. Unsure of what to say. Wild was not used to being short on words, but on this occasion, he chose silence over jovial quips and innuendo.

Wildfire did not like having others in his head. Especially people he didn't know, so, it was no surprise that he was irritated when this new presence made itself known. Wildfire watched as Gates disappeared and returned with the newcomer. Wildfire made his way to Kent and nodded. As the new guy talked to Kinetix Wildfire looked at Kent and Gates and chuckled.

Can you believe this guy? Who the hell is he? And who does he think he is hitting on Kinetix? Seriously, crazy armor and hitting on the babes is my shtick... damn copyright infringement. This is piracy is what this is!"

Gates, Kent, Kinetix. Legion Plaza, Assembly Hall.

"We are all but tools in the hands of the Master. The Master is wise and guides us. We are all tools. So long as we choose a wise Master to which we align, I see no issue with being a tool. Forgive me. I did not intend to insult you. It was... a joke. From where I hale, that would have been funny. At least I like to think it would. You remind me of someone I knew once."

Half-in and half-out of his gate, Gates stared blankly at this Sandman, as though not sure what to make of that... religion-esque response.

"..."

"...you knew Che Guevara?"

And he led The Sandman through his gate, and into the back of The Assembly Hall.

Kent Shakespeare arched his eyebrows at the newcomer, wondering if this was some sort of medically-necessary respirator technology.

But Kinetix beat him to it.

The pretty little redhead with the green trappings waved at the man swathed in brown with the golden face and the hissing, gilded gloves, and she was awed, and she was fawning. "Heya."

Kent and Gates shared a look, and rolled their eyes.

The Sandman removeded his hat and nodded. His golden mask covering him gleaned as he made this... bow.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am pleased to meet you. I am The Sandman. I am sorry for interrupting. I understand I have just missed a rather important speech."

Zoe nodded easily, beaming brightly. "Yeah, it totally gave me gooseprickles. I think I could give you the Cliff's Notes version, but I think Cham would be better at the voices."

The Sandman extends one of his gilded hands and grasps Kinetix's right hand gently, bowing as he brings the hand toward his face.

"Forgive me ma'am. These eyes have seen a great deal, but beauty such as yours is not a sight I have seen much of in a long time. You know my name, but I do not know yours?"

Delighted and enchanted, Zoe covered her mouth with her free hand and blushed almost as red as her hair. "Such a gentleman! Why, I do declare!"

Placing that hand then upon her heart, Zoe introduced herself: "My name is Zoe, but around here they call me Kinetix! I can give life to inanimate objects, moving and morphing them with my mind!"

Gazing at him intently, trying to search the lenses that were his eyes, as though attempting to perceive the "great deal" he'd seen reflected therein. "But seriously, speakin' of gooseprickles, you're-- you're really packing an ancient-magickal wallop, I gotta say. If you're as powerful as I'm thinking you are, you really need to go talk to this big green guy, he seems to think we need all the juice we can get."

Wildfire made his way to Kent and nodded. As the new guy talked to Kinetix Wildfire looked at Kent and Gates and chuckled.

"Can you believe this guy? Who the hell is he? And who does he think he is hitting on Kinetix? Seriously, crazy armor and hitting on the babes is my shtick... damn copyright infringement. This is piracy is what this is!"

"Piracy," Gates grumbled. "Tch! Seriously, half the military-industrial complex is built on slave-trading and piracy, this day and age, 'to each according to their needs' gets stomped under the boot of avarice every time! People just waltz in and take what they want. Grife, don't let him get away with that spet."

"You boys wouldn't know piracy if it bit you on the nass," Kent chuckled. "Either of you ever been to Sklar?"

Glancing up and down at Wildfire's use-weave containment suit, Kent took a moment to be impressed. "New duds? What's the occasion?"

J'onn

Liz had given him the ASL meaning of the words I love you.

J'onn couldn't help it as the corner of his mouth curled into a smile.

And, as he finished his speech, he was sure the Legion was with them.

United, as they should be.

He had no desire to lead them, but he knew now, more than ever, his counsel would be sought and welcome among them.

And he would speak to them as only he could.

He would never leave them.

He never had.

As long as the Red Planet lived, so would he. And he knew, one day, he and that planet would become something more, and until that day, until that joining when he returned to the red dust that from whence he came, he would fight the good fight.

He knew nothing else. He existed to perpetuate an ideal. A philisophy of justice.

He had arrested Zod before. And then again, when he and Wraith and Kara and the others had put him once again within the Phantom Zone. He would do so once again.

But, perhaps, this time Zod would not go quietly. Or, as relatively quiet as he had before.

J'onn was a peaceful being. He did not believe in violence, yet he stood ready to do violence on behalf of those oppressed by it. And such, if Zod wished a fight, then J'onn would do his damnedest to give him one. J'onn J'onzz was often considered the epitome of Justice.

But he could also be its Wrath.

And then, from far away, someone's mind touched his.

In another realm, he was known as Dream.

In the Martian tongue, he was N'ruht L'Zoril A'dn'ur, brother to H'ronmeer, brother to D'leya N'ur, who was called Death.

The touch of his mind had been familiar.

Shortly later, that mind arrived in whole persona.

His presence within the Legion Assembly Hall was welcome.

The Martian Manhunter caught his eye and bowed his head in a solemn greeting.

And then, to Wraith, the Martian Manhunter spoke.

"We must begin by learning Zod's location. It would be wise to take the fight to him, before he has a chance to plan and plot, although I would surmise he has already made decisions affecting his course of action.

"Whatever the case, this will not be the way it was when you and I first faced him together so long ago."

The Martian's eyes flared red.

"This time, I won't hold back."

Interlude III: The Time of The Azteks. Further apologies to Morrison, and to Millar.

There is a town in Mexico called Tula, not so very terribly far from the Yucatan village where Ted "Wildcat" Grant received his nine lives from the Goddess Ixchel, where a god of a different breed once fought evil with human hands.

The Shadow God, Tezcatlipoca, had taken an avatar to work his evil upon the land, but a stranger appeared bathed in light. All who beheld his glowing countenance were filled with courage and rapture, save for the darkness he had come to beset with wrath.

With his dying breath, Tezcatlipoca swore he would return.

The Morningstar, called Quetzalcoatl, lived amongst the people and taught them of goodness and justice and light, but his human form was subject to human foibles and he found himself engaging in the corruptions of the flesh. Finding this reprehensible, he set his host body to burn, and departed this realm, vowing to return just as Tezcatlipoca had done.

Behind him, he left his helmet. His adherents, his priests, kept this helmet safe, eventually calling themselves "Q" after the initial of their stellar lord. Solemnly, they promised also to provide a new host for Quetzalcoatl's return, fit and healthy and in the peak of condition while simultaneously being pious and free of corruption.

Over the centuries, The Q Society, The Q Group, this was known by many names, but they discovered that for all their altruism, the cost of maintaining facilities in the remote Andes, and training generations of monastically-cloistered apostles, this was exorbitant. And thus they sought charitable donations from the echelons of society, the pillars of capitalism, humanitarians with worldly wealth.

Once, they spoke with Thomas Wayne, but fearing that they were more League of Shadows than Remnant, Wayne turned them away. Lionel Luthor, also, declined The Q Group, being preoccupied with his work with Veritos. It was not until Lionel's son Lex caught wind of their proposal that they got their infusion of riches, for Lex had decided that he would like to have a controlling interest in one of these... "superheroes."

For superheroes they were. When the proper ritual was performed and the selected soldier donned the mask, he gained access to abilities beyond those of mortal men. The four-dimensional power source could be tapped directly for limited bursts of destructive force, or used to power the various gadgetry and weapons systems that the helmet's uniform made manifest.

But not just anyone was given the mask.

And even when a soldier was chosen, there was always a second to take his place. A "pit crew." For every Uno, there was a Dos. For every one, a Number Two.

Until the fateful day when, shamed from The Justice League by his association with the younger Luthor, an Uno by the alias of Curt Falconer, codename "Aztek," had terrible dreams of Tezcatlipoca's return.

The Shadow God.

Mageddon.

Proving his worth with his final breath, this Aztek flew into the heart of Mageddon and unleashed the full capacity of the helmet's internal four-dimensional battery, detonating himself in the process but terribly wounding Mageddon, doing enough damage that the heroes of Earth were able to turn the tide of The Shadow God's malignance.

The helmet was gone. Uno was gone.

Their duty finished, The Q Foundation began to close up shop.

But one member of their clergy decided, one last time, to perform the ritual one might use to recharge the helmet's four-dimensional battery if too much of its power were released at once. The helmet was gone, scattered into atoms, but still, in order to bid their great work farewell, this monk decided to just say the words, and light the candles, and petition with reverence, just once more.

Light split the room, and when the light cleared, the helmet sat cooling and smouldering in the centre of the floor.

And it spoke. It spoke seven words, a number of portent: *This is the end of the beginning.*

And thus The Q Foundation knew that their work continued.

They were very good at having back-up plans, and thus before he had left the fold, they had taken samples of Uno. He had fulfilled their plans in the greatest of fashions, they knew they would never find a better: he had been The Ultimate Man, the perfect host for Quetzalcoatl, even granted by the mysteries of the human genome a limited ability to heal the sick and wounded with the laying on of hands.

And thus, instead of trusting to the caprice of genetics, instead of risking that they would never again find a perfect host, they cloned a second Uno, and they called him "Dos," and they gave him Uno's adopted name of Falconer, and they trained him to take the helm under the codename Aztek.

Over the years, there would be another, also drawn from the blood of Uno, and this would be "Tres," "Tres Falconer." He too, was Aztek.

Standing in the Medbay of the headquarters of The Legion of Superheroes, this latest Aztek was named "Cuatro Falconer." He was Number Four.

He would be the last.

"We are all but tools in the hands of the Master. The Master is wise and guides us. We are all tools. So long as we choose a wise Master to which we align, I see no issue with being a tool. Forgive me. I did not intend to insult you. It was... a joke. From where I hale, that would have been funny. At least I like to think it would. You remind me of someone I knew once."

Half-in and half-out of his gate, Gates stared blankly at this Sandman, as though not sure what to make of that... religion-esque response.

"..."

"...you knew Che Guevara?"

And he led The Sandman through his gate, and into the back of The Assembly Hall.

Kent Shakespeare arched his eyebrows at the newcomer, wondering if this was some sort of medically-necessary respirator technology.

But Kinetix beat him to it.

The pretty little redhead with the green trappings waved at the man swathed in brown with the golden face and the hissing, gilded gloves, and she was awed, and she was fawning. "Heya."

Kent and Gates shared a look, and rolled their eyes.

The Sandman removeded his hat and nodded. His golden mask covering him gleaned as he made this... bow.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am pleased to meet you. I am The Sandman. I am sorry for interrupting. I understand I have just missed a rather important speech."

Zoe nodded easily, beaming brightly. "Yeah, it totally gave me gooseprickles. I think I could give you the Cliff's Notes version, but I think Cham would be better at the voices."

The Sandman extends one of his gilded hands and grasps Kinetix's right hand gently, bowing as he brings the hand toward his face.

"Forgive me ma'am. These eyes have seen a great deal, but beauty such as yours is not a sight I have seen much of in a long time. You know my name, but I do not know yours?"

Delighted and enchanted, Zoe covered her mouth with her free hand and blushed almost as red as her hair. "Such a gentleman! Why, I do declare!"

Placing that hand then upon her heart, Zoe introduced herself: "My name is Zoe, but around here they call me Kinetix! I can give life to inanimate objects, moving and morphing them with my mind!"

Gazing at him intently, trying to search the lenses that were his eyes, as though attempting to perceive the "great deal" he'd seen reflected therein. "But seriously, speakin' of gooseprickles, you're-- you're really packing an ancient-magickal wallop, I gotta say. If you're as powerful as I'm thinking you are, you really need to go talk to this big green guy, he seems to think we need all the juice we can get."

"I don't pretend to be anymore than I am. If perhaps I am as powerful as you believe, I will be able to make some small difference. Green guy huh..." The Sandman looked around the hall, taking it all in. Seeing J'onn for the first time. "Heh. Great. Looks like perhaps I need to excuse myself..." The Sandman looked deeply into the young woman's eye as they were searching his. He could sense the lust for power. He could feel her searching. Longing. Yearning. Before began to make his way toward J'onn he leaned close to Kinetrix. Whispering softly in her ear..."Careful that which you seek." Straightening up to his full measure The Sandman moves toward The Manhunter.

Wildfire made his way to Kent and nodded. As the new guy talked to Kinetix Wildfire looked at Kent and Gates and chuckled.

"Can you believe this guy? Who the hell is he? And who does he think he is hitting on Kinetix? Seriously, crazy armor and hitting on the babes is my shtick... damn copyright infringement. This is piracy is what this is!"

"Piracy," Gates grumbled. "Tch! Seriously, half the military-industrial complex is built on slave-trading and piracy, this day and age, 'to each according to their needs' gets stomped under the boot of avarice every time! People just waltz in and take what they want. Grife, don't let him get away with that spet."

"You know Sluggo, every time I talk to you I get the urge to go overthrow someone... You got spunk.

"You boys wouldn't know piracy if it bit you on the nass," Kent chuckled. "Either of you ever been to Sklar?"

"Sklar... Sklar... certainly sounds piratey. Hm. Don't know as though I have had the pleasure."

Glancing up and down at Wildfire's use-weave containment suit, Kent took a moment to be impressed. "New duds? What's the occasion?"

"Well, far be it from me to brag, but I happen to have absorbed a anti-matter bomb, to take one for the team. Well... mostly absorbed. Anyway. Seems that something with the mixture with my anti-energy and the anti-matter gave me back a solid form. So, needless to say, my previous armor was... damaged. You like the new duds? I gotta say they are pretty nice. Brain-bucket did a helluva job."

Kinetix, Kent, Gates, and a special guest. Assembly Hall.

"I don't pretend to be anymore than I am. If perhaps I am as powerful as you believe, I will be able to make some small difference. Green guy huh..." The Sandman looked around the hall, taking it all in. Seeing J'onn for the first time.

"Yeah," Zoe continued breathlessly, "the green guy? I think he said his name was 'Jones,' like that guy who inspired my mom to be an archaeologist."

"Heh. Great. Looks like perhaps I need to excuse myself..." The Sandman looked deeply into the young woman's eye as they were searching his. He could sense the lust for power. He could feel her searching. Longing. Yearning. Before began to make his way toward J'onn he leaned close to Kinetrix. Whispering softly in her ear..."Careful that which you seek." Straightening up to his full measure The Sandman moves toward The Manhunter.

Stunned, Zoe fell silent, chastised, her hands clasped in front of herself, reminded that noble intentions are sometimes only flagstones on the thoroughfare to Hell. "...yessir."

As this Sandman moved towards The Manhunter, a voice like endless desert dunes spoke into his soul's ear... though this was not the voice of The Last Green Martian.

It was the voice of his aforementioned Master.

'Fear not your identity's being discovered,' came this voice. 'From time to time, mortals have been born on this plane with a shard of my spirit lodged within theirs. The pilgrim Dodds, the golemn Hawkins. Your present form is not unlike one of these.'

'If a being of significant mental power glances upon your aura, they will see only mine. (J'onn J'onzz is reverent of gods, and may simply accept your presence as he would accept my own.)'

'If they choose to, shall we say, look deeper?'

'They will find only themselves looking back, the abyss gazing also.'

'Go. Do your work. Protect the girl.'

'And... thank you.'

Wildfire made his way to Kent and nodded. As the new guy talked to Kinetix Wildfire looked at Kent and Gates and chuckled.

"Can you believe this guy? Who the hell is he? And who does he think he is hitting on Kinetix? Seriously, crazy armor and hitting on the babes is my shtick... damn copyright infringement. This is piracy is what this is!"

"Piracy," Gates grumbled. "Tch! Seriously, half the military-industrial complex is built on slave-trading and piracy, this day and age, 'to each according to their needs' gets stomped under the boot of avarice every time! People just waltz in and take what they want. Grife, don't let him get away with that spet."

"You know Sluggo, every time I talk to you I get the urge to go overthrow someone... You got spunk.

There were precious few Legionnaires that Gates could put up with with any frequency. Brainiac, for one thing. Karate Kid was refreshingly non-materialistic, as was Element Lad. Wildfire... Wildfire was genuine. Wildfire was simply himself, without apology. And Gates found himself respecting that, too.

Gates grinned at Wildfire. "¡Viva la Revolución!"

"You boys wouldn't know piracy if it bit you on the nass," Kent chuckled. "Either of you ever been to Sklar?"

"Sklar... Sklar... certainly sounds piratey. Hm. Don't know as though I have had the pleasure."

Kent shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose and smiling. "Trust me, you'd have known it if you had. You especially. Women in pirate costumes with befreckled lemon-yellow skin and hair the colour of Earth's sky? Also, zero tolerance for male chauvinism, they'd've had you walking the plank in a picosec."

Glancing up and down at Wildfire's use-weave containment suit, Kent took a moment to be impressed. "New duds? What's the occasion?"

"Well, far be it from me to brag, but I happen to have absorbed a anti-matter bomb, to take one for the team. Well... mostly absorbed. Anyway. Seems that something with the mixture with my anti-energy and the anti-matter gave me back a solid form. So, needless to say, my previous armor was... damaged. You like the new duds? I gotta say they are pretty nice. Brain-bucket did a helluva job."

"Good work putting the team first," Kent noted, this spoke to his own teaching credentials at The Academy. "I, for one, am glad you lived to tell about it. Anti-matter is dastardly stuff."

"As for the upgrade? I agree," Kent nodded. "Remind me to ask him for his input the next time my old friends at Quarantine Station decide to redesign their EVA gear."

Gates scrutinised the armour for a moment. "Well, I like the colour."

Kent chuckled. "You would."

Batman 3010, Tomorrow Woman. Assembly Hall.

And then, to Wraith, the Martian Manhunter spoke.

"We must begin by learning Zod's location. It would be wise to take the fight to him, before he has a chance to plan and plot, although I would surmise he has already made decisions affecting his course of action.

"Whatever the case, this will not be the way it was when you and I first faced him together so long ago."

The Martian's eyes flared red.

"This time, I won't hold back."

Batman nodded to The Sandman, as The Sandman approached The Manhunter, and fell into step beside him. They, too, would need to talk. But later.

[Jesus Josephine, that was eerie,] Jay heard Liv mutter directly to his brain's language centre, [I heard him in my head. I'm not used to hearing anyone else in your head but you.]

Batman couldn't help but arch a mental eyebrow at that. [You should've been online when The Martian was vetting me telepathically. That was a trip.]

As they approached, Batman glanced at Sandman. He was respectful, but being rude was The Batman's prerogative, and he had important intel to submit.

"Pardon me for interrupting, gentlemen," he began, "but my purpose for coming here was twofold. My new junior partner has informed me that World War Two legend Alan Scott is soon to pass, and he seeks a recipient for The Green Flame of The Starheart. We are to send the worthy to The Themysciran Embassy. It's taken time to bring this message, and while I hope we're not too late, I thought for certain there would be a candidate here amongst The Legion's expansive ranks. Better to bring this power with us against Zod than let it fall into the hands of the wicked and undeserving."

And then, to Wraith, the Martian Manhunter spoke.

"We must begin by learning Zod's location. It would be wise to take the fight to him, before he has a chance to plan and plot, although I would surmise he has already made decisions affecting his course of action.

"Whatever the case, this will not be the way it was when you and I first faced him together so long ago."

The Martian's eyes flared red.

"This time, I won't hold back."[/I]

Batman nodded to The Sandman, as The Sandman approached The Manhunter, and fell into step beside him. They, too, would need to talk. But later.

"Ghosts of the past reemerging to save the future. Interesting."

[Jesus Josephine, that was eerie,] Jay heard Liv mutter directly to his brain's language centre, [I heard him in my head. I'm not used to hearing anyone else in your head but you.]

Batman couldn't help but arch a mental eyebrow at that. [You should've been online when The Martian was vetting me telepathically. That was a trip.]

As they approached, Batman glanced at Sandman. He was respectful, but being rude was The Batman's prerogative, and he had important intel to submit.

"Pardon me for interrupting, gentlemen," he began, "but my purpose for coming here was twofold. My new junior partner has informed me that World War Two legend Alan Scott is soon to pass, and he seeks a recipient for The Green Flame of The Starheart. We are to send the worthy to The Themysciran Embassy. It's taken time to bring this message, and while I hope we're not too late, I thought for certain there would be a candidate here amongst The Legion's expansive ranks. Better to bring this power with us against Zod than let it fall into the hands of the wicked and undeserving."

"If this intelligence is accurate, there is little time to waste. Amazing the fortitude that some of the elder generation possess. I hope that if this is the end for Mr. Scott, that he finds his life to be compleat. His Legacy will endure."

The Sandman looks deeply at the Martian.

"There is a thin line between justice and revenge, though they are not mutually exclusive. At some time, here or hereafter, every account must be settled, and every debt paid in full."

The winds of Steeple are not kind.

Thirty-knot headwinds, gusting cross-shears, and treacherous vortex-pockets slash through the atmosphere, threatening to dash any who try to navigate against crags and gullies and canyon walls. The spires reach up, up, up into lethal stellar storms, and many of the trenches bottom out at no shallower than the planet's living molten core itself.

Despite all these dangers, the native Halpashar monks admonish those who take to the air to not impose their will on the winds. With a mix of Zen detachment and Taoist wu-wei, The Halpashar instead direct those who fly upon the bulbous, batwinged blimp-steeds to go wherever the winds take them.

And, promising one of the remaining mentors that she would do just that, Dream Girl boarded one such blimp-steed and, smiling softly, allowed the winds to carry her wherever they would.

And while she rode the steed and the gusts slashed about, she closed her eyes and smiled softly and listened... listened for a sound within the wind...

...the sound of a "swooosh." And the sound of laughter.



And just as she heard this, just as they solidified, just as they began to plummet towards that planet-core below, banking in sideways upon an opportune, even fortuitous gust, Dream Girl opened her eyes and smiled even wider.

The two men landed there upon the back of the beast; if either of them slid or scrabbled for purchase, her hands would already be there to guide them back to hang upon the steering vanes.

A lovely woman clad in silver, a beauty mark like a star upon her cheek, her platinum hair furling and flashing in the winds, she beamed at them.

"Welcome back," she proclaimed to Jonah, and then winked flirtatiously at Merick's Ghost. "Who's your friend?"

"Long story." Jonah brushed the hair out of his eyes.

Merick grinned. "Sorry love. Married. And... kinda a ghost... At least I'm not nearly headless... Merick grinned as he nudged Jonah with his elbow. So, let's get everyone and move. Whatever this is, it's big."

"Dreamgirl, can you get us to the others? We need to be there 10 minutes ago." Jonah readjusts himself shoving Merick's elbow out of his ribs.

Dream Girl, Dragonmage, et al. Steeple.

"Welcome back," she proclaimed to Jonah, and then winked flirtatiously at Merick's Ghost. "Who's your friend?"

"Long story." Jonah brushed the hair out of his eyes.

Merick grinned. "Sorry love. Married. And... kinda a ghost... At least I'm not nearly headless... Merick grinned as he nudged Jonah with his elbow.

Nura grinned delightedly. "Oh, and a vintage British accent! That's just darling. You have a lucky lady, and a very lucky neck."

So, let's get everyone and move. Whatever this is, it's big."

"Dreamgirl, can you get us to the others? We need to be there 10 minutes ago." Jonah readjusts himself shoving Merick's elbow out of his ribs.

"Well," Nura shook her head, attempting to be reassuring. "There's two problems with that. First of all? I promised The Halpashar that I would only take this blimp-steed where the winds take me."

But then the winds started to steady, out of nowhere, out of sheer impossibility, the winds started to still, and then one great big gust swept them neatly towards the cliffside...

...the exact point where the rest of the Legion Academy delegation to Steeple stood wide-eyed and wondering. Among them, stood Xao Jin, Dragonmage, sweating bullets and crackling with light as he used his magic to bend the very winds...

Nura grinned, and waggled her eyebrows at the timelost Tennylson lads, and brought the blimp-steed to a stop exactly where Dragonmage's airbending placed them.

"Nice work, Xao Jin!"

Holding his side, Catspaw helping him stand up straight, Dragonmage smiled and waved weakly. "Xie-xie, Miss Nal. That... that was a lot of wind."

Sliding down from the steed, she called out authoritatively to the delegation, to Karate Kid and the cadets and everyone: "Gather close! These are the friends I told you about, and they know a shortcut to Earth! Come on, gather close!"

As the others hustled to do as she asked, she glanced over her shoulder at Merick and Jonah.

"The other problem with us getting there ten minutes ago?" Nura explained, or started to... "Well. I'll tell you when we get there."

Heart of Courage

After Caroline had voiced her opposition to the one known as Zod, she looked her at the other legionnaires and wondered who else was brave enough to stand. The Martian Manhunter was the first to move, and Caroline's blue eyes followed his every footstep until he stood in front of her.

No words were exchanged as J'onn reached out and took her hands, gently holding them in his own.

When the Martian raised his eyes to look at her, Caroline's mind became flooded with images, images of a world long since gone.

Gone, but not forgotten.

Caroline passed the red sun of Krypton and came upon Krypton itself, back when it was still a vibrant world full of tall, crystal spires and deep canyons.

And when she saw the symbol of the House of El, the great symbol she had never thought herself worthy of wearing, pride filled her heart.

"These things I have shown you are only a fraction of what makes you who you are, Caroline. This is your heritage. Your birthright. And it is the reason you, more than anyone else gathered here today, must never stop fighting."

"I won't," she said as J'onn released her hands.

Soon the entire Legion rose to their feet, joining Caroline and the others in the fight of their lives.

There was much to be done.

Batman 3010, Tomorrow Woman. Assembly Hall.

Batman nodded to The Sandman, as The Sandman approached The Manhunter, and fell into step beside him. They, too, would need to talk. But later.

"Ghosts of the past reemerging to save the future. Interesting."

"You're one to talk," Batman replied, smiling faintly.

[Jesus Josephine, that was eerie,] Jay heard Liv mutter directly to his brain's language centre, [when he first announced himself? I heard him in my head. I'm not used to hearing anyone else in your head but you.]

Batman couldn't help but arch a mental eyebrow at that. [You should've been online when The Martian was vetting me telepathically. That was a trip.]

As they approached, Batman glanced at Sandman. He was respectful, but being rude was The Batman's prerogative, and he had important intel to submit.

"Pardon me for interrupting, gentlemen," he began, "but my purpose for coming here was twofold. My new junior partner has informed me that World War Two legend Alan Scott is soon to pass, and he seeks a recipient for The Green Flame of The Starheart. We are to send the worthy to The Themysciran Embassy. It's taken time to bring this message, and while I hope we're not too late, I thought for certain there would be a candidate here amongst The Legion's expansive ranks. Better to bring this power with us against Zod than let it fall into the hands of the wicked and undeserving."

"If this intelligence is accurate, there is little time to waste. Amazing the fortitude that some of the elder generation possess. I hope that if this is the end for Mr. Scott, that he finds his life to be compleat. His Legacy will endure."

The Sandman looks deeply at the Martian.

"There is a thin line between justice and revenge, though they are not mutually exclusive. At some time, here or hereafter, every account must be settled, and every debt paid in full."

[There was something The First Sandman used to write, a poetry,] Liv murmured hurriedly, the murmur she got when she was looking something up like her life depended on it, scanning that Wall for something she'd noticed before, trusting her eidetic memory but always always double-checking her work. [He'd leave it at scenes of his triumphs. It sort of sounded like-- here, say this:]

Batman's pale lenses seemed half-lidded as he nodded at The Sandman's pronouncements: "'There is no land beyond The Law.'"

The Tardis, somewhere, somewhen

What?

Click to expand...

"Hullo Doctor. That is what you call yourself now, correct? No more John Smith, James Hamilton, nor the name your mother bestowed upon you, nor the name you were born knowing. So many names, so many faces. You are a wild card, the wild card and you are now in play."

The young man stood up and walked over to the shocked man. For once, James Hamilton was speechless.

"Oh, you must be wondering who I am. Well, I am not supposed to tell, but.." his voice lowered to a whisper, "I am the ghost of Christmas past."

He paused, then barked out a laugh. "Not really Doctor. You would have used that name yourself if you hadn't... anyway, spoilers."

"You have a task. A very important task and I am here to get you there and back again. You do tend to get, distracted."

He turned to the controls and the machine that was more than a machine silently came to life.

Another surprised look from the Doctor prompted a response "You leave the brake on. It's supposed to be quiet. Now, sit back and relax, we should be out of the dimensional vortex in a few ticks, and in the right place and time in a few more. Oh, your going to need that crystal in your breast pocket, so don't loose it. "

He leaned against the console, a smug smile on his face, brown eyes twinkling. "Questions?"

"The Doctor in The TARDIS doesn't know."

"Hullo Doctor. That is what you call yourself now, correct? No more John Smith, James Hamilton, nor the name your mother bestowed upon you, nor the name you were born knowing. So many names, so many faces. You are a wild card, the wild card and you are now in play."

The Doctor stared at this being, this Entity, this Incarnation... he could see Time and Space fluxing behind those nondescript brown eyes, infinities collapsing and being reborn in every moment, it was like gazing into the heart of The Time War itself... and at the same time, he felt deep echoes of history, lives lived before, inherited memories, as though this Entity, this Avatar, was a regeneration of sorts...

...if this were a Time Lord, The Doctor would have known it to look at him, but... this was something new. Someone and something entirely new.

Something that put even The Time Lords, now erased from even a ghost of an existence, to shame in their knowledge and perception.

Something that knew about his True Name and the names he'd worn like masks.

The young man stood up and walked over to the shocked man.

Staring at this newcomer, this intruder, this golden-aural humanoid... The Doctor could not find words for his bewilderment, his incredulity. The Doctor once had claimed that his gob didn't stop for anything. But he was gobstopped now. Utterly speechless. He mouthed the word what once more, but no sound came out.

"Oh, you must be wondering who I am. Well, I am not supposed to tell, but.." his voice lowered to a whisper, "I am the ghost of Christmas past."

The Doctor's eyes widened, suddenly wondering if this really might be all his great and terrible sins come back to haunt him, the paradox of his continued existence dangling from its gossamer thread no no never no more...

...he remembered Dickens and ghosts at Christmas and he took a sudden sharp step back, clutching for the railing beside him and missing completely. "(No.)"

He paused, then barked out a laugh. "Not really Doctor. You would have used that name yourself if you hadn't... anyway, spoilers."

"You're not--" The Doctor found sound, but almost none at all, his mouth had gone dry, he could barely speak, this being claimed foreknowledge of alternities and eventualities that no longer existed? He knew what The Entity was talking about, he knew who The Entity was talking about, but that person, that him, would never come to pass-- "--you're not making any sense."

"You have a task. A very important task and I am here to get you there and back again. You do tend to get, distracted."

This was not inaccurate, and The Doctor knew it, and it cut him to the quick. "Well. Usually. Mostly. I get distracted with-- with saving things. Good-- good things, mostly."

He turned to the controls and the machine that was more than a machine silently came to life.

Startled, The Doctor glanced up at The Time Rotor, glanced down at The Console, clawed his hand through his hair, there was a certain unquantifiable taste of betrayal in his mouth, a platonic sort of cuckoldry, seeing another sentient's hands touch her so lovingly, seeing her respond without... complaint...

...he glanced up again. The Time Rotor rose and fell but no noise issued forth, none of that metallic thrumming, that wooshing and moaning, that vworping, that wind between the worlds...

"We're in flight," he murmured, "and-- and there's no--" --he gestured, he would have done an impression of the sound but again his voice failed him and he trickled to silence. Once, when Donna had had to sneak up on a Sontaran, The TARDIS door had neglected to make its distinctive creak; The TARDIS was capable of suppressing its natural resonances for the sake of people it-- she --liked...

"You leave the brake on. It's supposed to be quiet."

Bewilderedly, he glanced at the handbrake, he glanced at The Entity, he bit the inside of his cheek, all this time was there more than one brake? How could he know these things? Things even The Doctor didn't know-- how could he know such impossible things?

"Now, sit back and relax, we should be out of the dimensional vortex in a few ticks, and in the right place and time in a few more. Oh, your going to need that crystal in your breast pocket, so don't loose it. "

The Doctor blinked, slapped his pocket, found a crystal there that hadn't been there a moment ago. His fingers dove, his hand extricated, he found the crystal gleaming there to be geometrically perfect, yet picoscopically multifaceted. The Doctor touched the crystal to his tongue, and then gazed at it with confusion now deep enough to be nearly fathomless.

It tasted... familiar.

He leaned against the console, a smug smile on his face, brown eyes twinkling. "Questions?"

Pocketing the crystal anew, this time in a side pocket of his suit coat, The Doctor took a long long moment to gather his resources, to-- this time successfully --take ahold of the railing beside him and to feel the reassurance that The TARDIS still was there for him, that she still loved him. And it was a curious sensation to hear her promise, without words and without feelings, with that aspect of her that lived without quite being sentient, that he was still first and foremost in her existence but that she trusted this Entity implicitly and beyond impeachment.

"You're enjoying this," he murmured. "Having me on my back foot. Something about pride going before a fall, is it? All this time I've reveled in being a question-mark on the lips of those around me, you're showing me what that feels like."

He took a deep breath, and walked towards The Entity there at The Console, his grip white-knuckled on the railing until he stood at last before The Entity, his hands in his pockets, a semblance of his usual confidence lingering in his posture.

"It almost reminds me of a story," The Doctor murmured, licking his lips, "a lovely lady told me once, about a bloke name of Jonah? Jonah got a message that he was supposed to go to a place and save it, but he decided that he didn't like that place very much and he'd rather it suffered and died, he hopped a boat going the opposite way. Shortly thereafter a storm picks up, Jonah gets chucked overboard and gets gobbled up by a-- well, a marine creature of some sort, 'whale,' 'big fish,' there's interpretations --either way, he winds up in the belly of the beast and it pukes him up on the sand just down the beach from the place he was supposed to go."

The Doctor took a deep breath. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm about to get vomited out onto the shore, except you've decided to go ahead and cut out the middleman this time? Well, the middlefish. Middle-- whale."

His eyes glimmered with a hardness and a darkness that was decidedly... not holy.

"What you call 'distracted' is me running around in circles trying to save this world," he grimaced. "And, to be perfectly honest, I've put a lot of work into it. I was in the middle of something, and you've-- well. This had better be important."

"Questions? Only two."

"Who are you?"

"What do you want?"

Knight Lang - Several years

Age 14


Walking through the passages Allana paused for a moment, looking out the plasteel panels, billions of tones of water over her head, and she was looking up through it. But that was the price the inhabitants of this place paid, and she was bringing another here. To this place. A place forsaken by all that was Holy.

Alan-tis. A veritable underwater tomb for the worst of the worst. The atmosphere above the water was toxic. The current depth was impossible for a human to tolerate without substantial protection. And bare skin just didn’t allow survival. Plus there were the underwater predators.

Alan-tis. Prison world. Tomb planet. Death world. Hell incarnate. At least for the inmates. They had no clue what true HELL was.

Glancing to her side she watched her prisoner shuffle along, Steel gauntlets locked together prevented his fingers from moving. Making it impossible for him to pick any locks. Something he was quite capable of. Chains jingled and scraped on the ferrocrete flooring. Extra heavy boots made running very hard. And the chain length prevented a real stride, also limiting running.

And this one was a runner, and an escape artist. Hense the reason for the extra security.

“Yer a whorin bitch,” he snarled through broken teeth, his nasaly voice sounding strange. But a freshly broken nose had that effect.

“If the prisoner speaks again, the prisoner will be forced to eat through a straw. Cause I will break the prisoners jaw.” She replied, smoothly and softly.

“Cu..” He began, ending in a gurgling scream of pain, the flat of her armoured hand crossing his face, dislocating his jaw and sending teeth flying.

Collapsing to the floor in pain, he tried to cup his face, but his restricting chains didn’t allow that much freedom of movement. And he screamed even more, a handful of his hair grasped in her hair. And she walked as if he was a child holding her hand, dragging him across the floor. A floor that was so old it was chipped and worn by millions of prisoners. Prisoners that had never, ever, left.

Not alive anyway, and the creatures that did manage to survive in the ocean had to eat something…

****

The pressure seal before her slid open with a hiss of air equalizing, the Administorium Official stepping out to meet her, his rather formidable bulk filling the entry way, a squad of guards pressing passed to surround the prisoner.

“Name?” Allana asked, rather sternly.

“What?, Oh. I am Administratum Master Carmichael. Proconsul of this instillation. You are Knight Allana Lang? Our latest inmates escort. I’m afraid he won’t like it here, no, not at all.”

“I’ve already verified your installations capabilities. Tek level two. Three centuries since the last escape attempt. No successful attempts. Ever. Do you accept the prisoner?”

“Would you like some Kaff? Or stim stick? We get so few guests here, it’s a true rarity it is. My staff will prepare a meal for you and..”

“No.”

Startled into silence, the Proconsul blinked, looking rather like a nightbird as he gawped at her. “Pardon?” he finally asked.

“Do you accept the prisoner into your custody?”

“Um, yes, I accept the prisoner.”

“He will require medical attention.”

“We’ll see to his medical needs.” The Proconsul assured her. But he needn’t have bothered, as she’d already turned away from him. Her lean and metal encased legs carrying her back to the embarkation point.

"Pardon me for interrupting, gentlemen," he began, "but my purpose for coming here was twofold. My new junior partner has informed me that World War Two legend Alan Scott is soon to pass, and he seeks a recipient for The Green Flame of The Starheart. We are to send the worthy to The Themysciran Embassy. It's taken time to bring this message, and while I hope we're not too late, I thought for certain there would be a candidate here amongst The Legion's expansive ranks. Better to bring this power with us against Zod than let it fall into the hands of the wicked and undeserving."

J'onn J'onzz gestured with his right hand towards the members of the Legion who had gathered in the assembly hall. "Indeed," he informed The Batman, "you have a multitude of possible selections before you. Each of them is worthy," he said, making no presumptions, "or they would not be here."

"If this intelligence is accurate, there is little time to waste. Amazing the fortitude that some of the elder generation possess. I hope that if this is the end for Mr. Scott, that he finds his life to be compleat. His Legacy will endure."

The Sandman looks deeply at the Martian.

"There is a thin line between justice and revenge, though they are not mutually exclusive. At some time, here or hereafter, every account must be settled, and every debt paid in full."

J'onn's red eyes turned towards the Sandman, yet the Martian Manhunter would not look him directly in his masked face, keeping his head respectfully bowed. The Manhunter was deeply gladdened by the Sandman's words, because he felt that Sandman's ideals and purpose mirrored his own. "I set upon this path long before most of this world's life forms had even begun their evolution," he stated. "And I have never deviated from it."

"In so doing, I have walked that thin line so many times, yet I have always kept in mind that I can be an instrument of vengeance, a tool of wrath to retribute those that have been wronged. This is not something I would ask for, for battle is not something I enjoy, but a necessity; a task that must be fulfilled when needed.

"The ancient Spartans of Earth believed there was great glory in battle, and to fall at the hands of your enemy was an honor unequalled. I once had a friend, a god of thunder no less, who also held these ideals close to him. And, although I did not share his belief, I understood the how and why of the words he spoke.

"But, this I have to say: should I meet Zod on the field of battle, then that is one fight I would so much enjoy. And, my friend, I will be the one to collect his debt, or I shall see that he is couried to the proper entity for that debt's payment!"

J'onn gave a final nod of his head. He then produced a package of Oreo cookies from somewhere in his cape and tore them open. He offerred one to each of the heroes standing with him.

[There was something The First Sandman used to write, a poetry,] Liv murmured hurriedly, the murmur she got when she was looking something up like her life depended on it, scanning that Wall for something she'd noticed before, trusting her eidetic memory but always always double-checking her work. [He'd leave it at scenes of his triumphs. It sort of sounded like-- here, say this:]

Batman's pale lenses seemed half-lidded as he nodded at The Sandman's pronouncements: "'There is no land beyond The Law.'"

J'onn was eating a cookie as Batman spoke, and he turned towards the Dark Knight and placed a green hand on his shoulder. Looking back to Sandman, J'onn added, jokingly, "You see, my friend, even the youngsters have some grasp of the depth of our thoughts!"

Allana - in the past

Laying on her stomach Allana enjoyed the feel of the Masseuse as oiled hands worked sore muscles in her back and legs, she ignored the looks of the others. She was used to them, after a few years most had grown accustomed to a female Knight. Most, but not all.

She still had those that stared at her, call her vile names, or threw things at her. But she didn’t consider them worthy of a response, especially since none had agreed to her challenge. “If your hand moves any higher, you’ll become a beggar,” she warned.

“My apology,” he replied, stepping back and holding a towel out to her. “You’re done.”

Sitting up, Allana took the towel and headed for the Calidarium, and as she stepped into the steaming water she allowed herself a small sigh of pleasure. After a hard day of practice and practice and even more practice, this was her only time to relax.

Regretfully she hadn’t practiced long enough. Most days she trained into the night, but with the Baron attending the evenings dinner, she had been required to cut training short so that she could attend. Not that she wanted to be anywhere near the insufferable conceited fool. He couldn’t even fight, and with his massive bulk, she was surprised he could even lift the fork to his own face.

Emerging from the water she pushed her hair back from her face. Slick brown hair flowed down her back, clinging to her spine, soapy water drifted away from her as the torch light reflected off her sun-bronzed skin. Noticing a new commotion she looked over to several knights, watching them pushing and shoving each other.

After a momentary glance she realized they weren’t pushing each other. They were pushing one. All of them were pushing one. And shoving became punches. And grabbing. And in moments they had him pulled down across a bench, several of them telling there target exactly what they planed on doing to him. In detail.

Rising to her full height, which wasn’t much, half submerged in the water as she was, Allana yelled out. “Enough.”

Looking over at her, one of the Attackers grinned ferally. “Shut up Bitch, you’ll get what you want in a minute, when we’re done with this one.”

Closing her eyes, Allana clenched her jaw tight, the rising heat in her body competing against the heat in her cheeks. Embarrassed both for what the Knights planned for the Younger Knight, and for what they planned to do to her. “I wouldn’t do that.” She warned, the water around her bubbling as the water temperature increased dramatically.

Taking a step towards her one of the Knights snarled at her. One of his hands stroking his fleshly sword. “Yours. Next. Whore.”

And behind him, a Knight’s hips thrust. A scream echoing through the marbled halls.

Climbing from the flash steamed, but now empty pool, the very angry individual snarled itself. And as steam was burned away it walked forwards, it’s footsteps melting ferrocrete.

Screams echoed through the marbled halls, the sound of yelling and steel impacting stone ripping the night, disturbing the peace of the castle.

Pounding at the barred doors subsided as a concussive round blew the heavy oaken timbers from the frame. Knights, Squires, and Castle Guard filling the room.

In the water of the much lower frigadarium floated a single form, around the room were littered the forms of the rest. Beaten bruised, battered, and seared. Most of them staring sightlessly, their jaws slack as their bodies moaned in pain.

Jumping into the knee level water two Squires pulled Allana’s limp form up to the floor, her slowly rising and falling chest the only sign of her own life still existing.

*****

“Have they determined what happened to the others?”

“No, Mi Lorde. But as far as the Apothecaries can determine, they are alive. Just..”

“Yes?”

“They just aren’t there. It’s like their souls are eternal Torment. Two medicae quit this morning after looking at their eyes. A third killed himself.” The medicae said, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. “Have you seen their eyes?”

“Yes. I have.”

*****

A pair of dark eyes blinked. A voice ringing through the silent ward in horror. A horror that would never end. A horror that was waiting. Waiting to embrace the perpetrator of wicked vile crimes. Waiting in the darkness. In the shadows. Waiting for the final sleep. Waiting to drag a rapist into the darkest pits of the Abyss.