[Archive] With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Story Only)

[Mr Zoat]

5th April
11:18 GMT -6

The traitor lies at bay in a back alley in Birmingham, blood leaking through his shirt from where one of the government agents in pursuit of him managed to shoot him. Most wounds should have stopped bleeding by now, the blood vessels in the immediate vicinity having lost pressure and closed up. The fact that it hasn't is a very bad sign. He's propped himself up against a wall, unfamiliar gun in hand as he alternates between trying to check his injuries -of which the bullet wounds to his abdomen are only the worst- and keeping an eye on his surroundings. As I watch, he slumps a little, then blinks heavily, rapidly shaking his head. Trying to keep himself awake. Lack of sleep or lack of blood? Most likely both.

Dozy prat.

I turn to Jean. "Medical ready?"

"Of course, Mister Grayven. We are fully prepared."

"Then bring him through."

"Certainly." She tilts her head forwards slightly, horns faintly glowing. On the other side of the hush tube our traitor starts as he finds himself being lifted up and dragged through the air into what appears to be empty space. Fully alert, he tries bringing his gun to bear as he comes through.

I snatch it from him as Jean deposits him on a gurney. "Give me that."

"Fookin-!" It takes a moment for him to recognise me, then he slumps slightly.

"Doctor Robbins, shut it-" The tube disappears. "-down. Thank you. Right, you." I stab my right forefinger at the injured man. "Firstly, stop swearing in front of my daughter. Secondly, what the heck did you think you were playing at?"

"Fook off. I've been shot."

"I can't imagine why that happened."

"You were the one who gave me those fookin' fiyals. What'd'ja think I was gonna do with 'em?"

"I gave them to you because I wanted to demonstrate the nature of the people you work for. I thought you'd use your position to gather more information. Gather allies. Plan, like I know they tried to train you to. I didn't expect you to try killing them all off yourself one by one. You-" I poke at him, finger stopping just above the wound. "-are a Muppet."

Chester Black flops back onto the gurney, closing his eyes. "Do yeh just wanneh run your mouth fer a bit before I peg it, or were you actually plannin' on fixin' this?"

"Small problem there, Chester." I display my fists. "I don't have access to an orange power ring any longer."

His eyes open a crack. "You got a yellow one."

"Yes, but for reasons which I presume stem from overfamiliarity you don't actually fear death. I don't fear you dying." I relax my mind for a moment, letting my ring detect local ambient fear. There we go. A sheet of pale yellow light passes over him and the flow of blood slows and then halts. "There. Now at least you won't bleed to death."

"Ah, come on mate. At least give me some fookin' morphine or somethin'. Ah can't focus well enough t'block the pain out."

"Alright. Lower your barrier. Jean, help him out."

Chester grunts and Jean's horns glow once more. "Could werk on yer bedside manneh there, love."

"Mister Black, I have no desire to touch your brain any more than I absolutely have to." Two G-Prometheans come forwards and take hold of either side of the gurney, ready to wheel him into the actual medical section of Challenger Mountain.

"Hate to love you and leave you, Chester, but you do rather need surgery and I have an appointment to get to. Don't make a nuisance of yourself while I'm gone."

"Ahright, jus-."

"And just to make sure, I'll be leaving you in Vera's capable hands."

"Oh, fook me. Haven't I suffered enough?"

"I heard that, you dirty little toe rag." Vera pointedly steps into his field of vision and flicks him on the forehead with her right forefinger.

"Ow!"

"Had me worried sick, you did, just disappearin' like that."

"Miss Black did remain on the inside to gather intelligence. This is because she's not a nitwit. And stop swearing, you'll give Lynne bad habits. Miss Black, he's all yours. Doctor Robbins?" A new hush tube opens in front of me and I hold out my right hand. "Poppet?" Clearly not quite sure what to make of Chester, she gives his gurney a wide berth as she walks over to me and takes hold of my hand. Then we walk through the tube.

5th April
12:21 GMT -5

A few Metropolians step urgently away from us as we appear from thin air, but after a few seconds they either recognise me, or spot that if I didn't attack immediately that I'm probably not going to and carry on about their business. Sinestro, call Lex. Directly, please. And identify me this time.

As you wish, Corpsman.

My first meeting with my compatriots in the Light. Obviously, most of us won't be meeting in person. Lex has an ultra-secure communication room in one of his tower's sub basements and as the two legitimate members of the group there's really no reason for me not to visit him near-openly. Plus, he's the one I respect the most. That should help me to remain civil with the rest.

"Lex here."

"Afternoon Lex. Does the LexCorp Metropolis building have a crèche?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I need to deposit my daughter there while we have our meeting. I could just leave her in my mountain, but she needs to spend time with children her own age."

For a moment, he's completely silent. I fondly hope that I just gobsmacked him. I haven't been hiding in Challenger Mountain, but at the same time I very much doubt that he's been able to arrange for someone to spy on me. Yet, anyway.

"That won't be a problem. I'll have Mercy keep an eye on her for you."

"Cheers. See you in a moment." Hang up. I glance down to where Lynne's busy taking in the city. "Lynne?" She looks up at me. "Since you're almost certainly never going to see any of these children again, I'm not going to ask you to make friends. But try and be sociable, alright?" She nods. Sinestro, hush tube to wherever Lex is.

The circle flickers into being just ahead of us and we appear in a corridor in the LexCorp building. Lex looks around, his face betraying no surprise as he takes in both myself and Lynne. Miss Graves moved to give her arm gun a clear line of sight if she needed it, but she lowers it again almost fast enough to prevent me noticing.

"Grayven. Good to see you." Lex smiles as he steps forwards, holding out his right hand. I pull mine free of Lynne for a moment and clasp his, taking care not to squeeze too tightly. "And Miss..?"

"Lynne Wayland. Lynne, say hello to the n-. To the man."

Lynne steps forwards, holding out her right hand. "Hello Mister Luthor."

"Hello Lynne." He very gently shakes her hand, then turns to Miss Graves. "Mercy, show Miss Wayland to the daycare center." Miss Graves bends slightly and holds out her left hand to Lynne, who cautiously walks over to her.

"Lynne, I'll come and pick you up in about an hour." She nods, then allows Miss Graves to lead her away down the corridor towards the lifts back up to the above ground portion of the building. Obviously Lynne's wearing low profile armour under her clothes and has a couple of drones hovering invisibly around her, but it's nice that Lex is willing to make an effort. "Have fun!"

Lex watches her go. "I must admit, I had no idea that you had a daughter."

"Oh, I adopted her. Apokoliptian tradition. Is, ah… Is everyone ready?"

"Of course. If you'll follow me, we can begin."

He walks over to a nearby terminal and stands there while it scans his fingerprints, and retina. A moment later the exceedingly heavy door next to it slides open and he leads me inside. "Obviously, now that you're one of us I can give you the specifications so that you can build one in your own mountain. No sense in you coming here every time." I take a look around. The room itself is bare. Utilitarian. The screens at the far end and the imaging equipment are all top of the line, but… "I did consider having it decorated, but I'm not in here enough to justify it. Activate."

The screens flicker on. The Brain appears first, his robotic casing appearing to the right of the centre. A moment later Ra's al Ghul appears to the left followed by Vandal Savage in the centre. He stares down at me for a moment. Oh right, he's the chairman, isn't he? No idea how that happened.

"Grayven. Thank you for joining us."

"You're welcome, Savage. Glad to be here. Now let's get this show on the road. First order of business?"

"To inform you that you are not the only person joining us today."

"Oh?"

"With Klarion's death, the Light have need of a new magician."

"Makes sense." I'd rather have been consulted, but I suppose they didn't need to until today. "Who's the lucky person?" Fingers crossed for Circe.

The screen to the right of Brain activates and-. Oooooooh dear.

"Mister Grayven." He smiles at me like someone who read about Human facial expression in a book once. Then practised in a mirror for a bit. "Were you expecting someone other than Mordru?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th April
12:25 GMT -5

I continue to look at his screen as I consider the significance of his reappearance. Of the appearance of another Lord of Chaos.

"Was that a Spanish Inquisition joke?"

There's a moment of complete silence. Then a sort of.. crackling noise comes from the direction of Brain's screen. Is he..? Is that how he laughs these days? "You refer of course to Monty Python, Mister Grayven. The infamous 'Spanish Inquisition' sketch. Mordru went out of the universe and then he came in again. Yes, that is good!"

"Monty.. Python..?" I glance at Lex, who appears to be straining not to look lost.

"It is a wonderful television series from Britain which makes use of absurdist humour. I had not realised that you were an aficionado, Mister Grayven."

What? No, what? "And I hadn't realised that you still had a sense of humour."

"I did not give up my humanity entirely. Though my appreciation is more intellectually than hormonally driven."

Mordru does his best to remain dignified. "It was not a reference to Monty Python. It was a statement of fact. Now that Klarion is no more, I have been able to return."

I nod. "And you're looking good. I don't know where you went-"

"And pray that you never do."

"-but I've seen footage of you fighting the Justice Society and wherever it was it's taken years off."

"I felt that a new face would be a reasonable precaution, given the attention I am likely to attract."

"Look… Is the whole 'me killing Klarion' thing going to be a problem for our working relationship? Because I'd rather get that ironed out now."

He shakes his head. "Not at all. I am glad that he is dead. He was a buffoon of a Chaos Lord, interested only in his own temporary amusement and incapable of doing anything particularly creative or significant with the vast power available to him. With him still alive cosmic balance itself prevented me from returning to exact my revenge. You have my thanks, Grayven."

"Okay then, you're welcome." Poop.

Savage focuses his attention on me. "I take it then that there is no problem from your side either."

"I'd rather have known in advance, but… No. Mordru always seemed to be the intelligent, mission-focused sort." And there's now a second person on the Light in my weight class. That might end up being a problem. I get the feeling that Mordru -unlike Klarion- would have looked before he teleported. Aaaaand I have no idea what his phylactery is. "Welcome on board."

He nods his head. "Thank you."

Ra's' eyes narrow slightly. "I seem to recall that you did not have a 'problem' with Queen Bee, either."

"I didn't know the silly cow liked walking into minefields. I was assuming that the drones would kill some insignificant lowlies. She was the ruler of a country, why was she doing field work? Her thing was supposed to be having people to do that for her."

Savage really has that alpha dominant staring thing down. "Whatever your reasons, we will expect you to exercise a greater degree of caution now that you are one of us."

"If there is anything you wish to get off your chest, Mister Grayven?"

"Ah, yeah. Then in the interests of full disclosure-" I turn my head to the right. "-Lex, I should probably tell you that I've been stealing your Genomorphs. In fact, at this point… I think I've got more working for me than you've still got working for you."

There's a very slight pinching of the muscles around his eyes. "Mister Harper informed me that the disappearances which Cadmus had been suffering from had stopped."

I wave my right hand. "I built them a load of extra cloning pods. They're rotating personnel in and out, and he's too inattentive to notice as long as the work gets done. Kind of a… Job share thing. If you check the records you'll see that all of the remaining G-Prometheans were registered as dead almost exactly the same time as I moved into Challenger Mountain."

"I hadn't realised that they were that mentally sophisticated."

"Gestalt intelligence, plus the G-Goblins are Human-equivalent. They want to be free. And the first step in that direction is doing for me what they do for you… But I actually pay them and I treat them better."

"I.. will need to think very carefully about that. But, in every problem lies an opportunity. Perhaps, now that I know how competent they are I can expand their role."

"They'd probably appreciate it. Look, I have to ask: your people programmed James Harper's brain. Why is he such a vacuous fool?"

Lex smiles. "Because we needed someone who could convincingly play the role of superhero."

Oh, dang! I grin back. "Makes sense."

"Is there anything else you wish to clear up before the meeting gets underway?" And Savage is still staring at me?

Well, I can match his pettiness with pettiness of my own. "I did have.. one question. Not-" I swing my right hand in a small arc, left to right. "-trying to imply anything, just trying to understand the lay of the land."

"Ask."

"What do you do?"

Another moment of silence.

"What do you mean by that?"

"We're all here because we all -for our own reasons- wish to kick the Human race out of the doldrums. Advance its status. Ra's contributes a worldwide intelligence network and a coterie of skilled and fanatically loyal operatives. Brain is an omnidisciplinary scientist who combines in a single body the greatest strengths of organic and synthetic intelligences, and his ability to analyse exotic equipment is vital in getting us an edge on any competition. Better still, no one knows his real name, so attempts to-."

"You do not know my name?" No one says anything. "I assumed that you were using my criminal name as a professional courtesy. Truly, none of you know who I am?"

This is what I get for putting Ultra-Humanite into a coma. The rest of us -Savage aside- flick our eyes at each other, uncertain exactly who knows what. If no one's contradicting him… "Brain, no one has the slightest idea what your name is."

"Oh." There's a pause as he gets his brain around the idea. "I.. suppose it doesn't matter. It just came as a surprise."

"Right, well… The only real gap in.. Brain's knowledge is magic and now.. we have Mordru on board. As a more intellectually inclined Lord of Chaos than his predecessor they really don't come much more powerful or more knowledgeable on arcane matters. Mister Luthor's status as a legitimate businessman means that any technologies we develop can be released as 'exciting LexCorp products', he has extensive production facilities and he can influence politics in a more conventional way than Ra's' Shadows and offer employment to legitimate scientists whose expertise we wish to use. And then, there's me. In addition to having access to technology far in advance of anything Earth has, I am a publically acknowledged superhero and can work to bring our ideals into the public domain. The synergies between our particular domains are clear."

I pause for maximum effect.

"I'm just not clear what you bring to the table. I'm assuming there's something, so…" Expression of honest enquiry. "What is it?"

The stare's still there, but there's something… He's disappointed?

"An economic powerbase as vast as Luthor's -albeit one owned by proxy-, an extensive list of contacts -legitimate and otherwise- who will serve my will, millennia of leadership and organisational experience, immortality-"

"Ah, about that-."

"-and absolute conviction of the righteousness of our cause." He's still staring. Also… Why should we care about any of that? I certainly don't accept him as the boss of me and I doubt that the others do either. I mean, Batman's the weakest of the important Justice League members but at least he brings something vital and unique to the organisation. Savage just told me that Ra's and Lex could do his job. Unless he just chose not to mention something? "Do you have any further questions?"

I suppose him being irrelevant isn't exactly a problem. "No, I'm good. What's the first thing on the agenda?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th April
19:14 GMT -1

"…a Sea Pony, okay?" Miss Shimmer takes another extremely nervous look out into the murk surrounding us. "I thought you were taking me to a university."

Sunset Shimmer needed books on magic. I could have tried borrowing something from Zatanna, but I'd much rather develop my own resource base. So, where does an aspiring supervillain go to get magic books?

Venturia, of course.

Lynne tilts her head to the side as we continue to descend. "Why is this freaking you out so much?"

"I grew up on a mountain! I don't even know how to swim as a Pony!"

Most Atlantean City-States are democratic, in varying fashions. Nanaue is oligarchic but it still has a healthy degree of political debate at all levels of society. Only Venturia is still autocratic, and I get the impression that the only reason why King Orin hasn't taken steps to do something about that is that Queen Clea is in her late eighties and it's easier to just wait for her to die and for her reform-minded daughter to inherit than it is to force the issue. In the meantime, her word is law. She directly appoints Senators to the national senate and woe betide them if they vote out of line. I'd rather fly under the radar… Or sonar, but if I get spotted telling her about my falling out with Diana should bring a smile to her face.

I turn to look at my former-Pony mountain guest. "Um. Being honest, Miss Shimmer: being able to swim when you're this deep probably wouldn't help."

"How do people live down here?"

"They have magic to clear away the murk and generate light, but they only use it around the actual city. They used to have a different policy, but then there was a war… Making sure the enemy can't reliably target you is a reasonable precaution."

"I mean, how do they breathe? They can't keep casting water breathing charms the whole time."

"A very long time ago, one of their mages came up with a way to alter Atlantean citizens so that they could breathe water. Purebloods gained extra-Human strength and endurance as well. They can also still breathe air and look unaltered, even if you know what to look for. Atlanteans who aren't Purebloods generally look like they've had bits of aquatic animal grafted to them. Sometimes-" I tap the right side of my neck with my right hand. "-just gills, which are more a manifestation of an imperfect spell than anything else. Sometimes they have fish tails… Other times they're barely recognisable as Human, looking more like the aquatic animal they're emulating."

Lynne looks away from where she's trying to spot the city. "Why did they do that?"

"Their continent was sinking." She frowns as the ridiculousness of the statement shocks her out of her normal reluctance to contradict me. "I know that doesn't make sense, I don't know how it happened and they themselves lost so many records in the struggle to survive… We may never know the truth of it. But, their ancient cities now lie strewn across the depths of the North Atlantic, Venturia being the southernmost."

Miss Shimmer tenses the right side of her mouth. "I guess if they can do that to their bodies they must know something about Human magic. But I don't really want to turn myself into a fish."

"But you do want to turn yourself into an Alicorn, yes? Picking up a few books on biomancy and thaumaturgical notation seems like a good place to start."

"There's more to being an Alicorn than just the shape, but… Yeah." She exhales heavily. "And learning your notation can't be any harder than learning your regular language."

Turns out that while Wilsonian Ponies don't speak English, Wilson does have a single dominant language spoken by most intelligent creatures. Learning how many Humans have was a surprise to her. At the moment the G-Gnomes are trying to fast-teach her English, augmenting normal lessons with telepathy to reinforce links between familiar and unfamiliar concepts. Without knowing the language she already speaks they can't safely dump a new language into her head. They can do constant real time translation but she doesn't want to be dependent on them any more than she does on my ring. On the plus side, once she's learned one local language the G-Gnomes can feed her the rest as fast as her brain can handle.

"I think I can see it!"

Lynne points downwards through the ring generated bubble surrounding us. Can't see anything myself… I take my goggles out of subspace and put them on. Ah yes, there we go. "I think you're right. Which should mean-" The murk around us suddenly cuts out, the blackness behind us emphasising the light shining from the fleshcrafted bioluminescent lamp creatures which mark the edge of the city's territory. They serve to create an artificial night sky for the city's inhabitants, as well as marking 'acceptable' approach channels into the city proper. "-that we're nearly here."

The city itself clearly has a high degree of commonality with Poseidonis, but the differences stand out as well. The free range plant life of the Poseidonis streets is absent, and the buildings are generally shorter and thicker set, almost bunker like. Some are brick or stone, while others seem to be organic, made from a fleshcrafted material.

"Over there." Miss Shimmer points to our left. "I think they've seen us."

Lynne and I tear our eyes away from the city as a patrol squad swims in our direction. Ahead of the Atlanteans comes a small swarm of Voltaic Rays and Sorcerer Eels. Expendable biological drones controlled by a member of the patrol group. In a fight against me they'd be more inconvenient than anything else, but against… Say, other Atlanteans, they'd stun, disrupt magic, bite and finally explode. Venturia has a combat doctrine far in advance of what the rest of Atlantis has. Behind them come the actual soldiers, Eelfolk in armour enchanted to camouflage them in whatever fashion suits the local environment best. Tail aside, Eelfolk look pretty much like fish tailed Atlanteans… Until they open their mouths, anyway. Behind them swims the mage… Ah, interesting. Due to how relatively shallow they are, Venturia and its sister city Aurania are the only places with significant Dolphinfolk populations. This is the first time I've seen one in the flesh, though. Like the Sharkfolk, they paid the price for being early adopters of the shapeshifting spells, in their case being incapable of breathing underwater without further magics. As an advantage, they don't look much different to normal Humans and can usually switch back between Dolphin-tailed and Human-legged shapes relatively easily. This one is currently tailed for the extra speed.

"Helmets on, girls." Lynne dons hers without complaint, while Miss Shimmer makes a disgruntled face as she scoops up her hair to try and fit inside. Though they won't really be able to swim down here, the suits they're wearing will protect them and provide them with air.

A few of the Sorcerer Eels come in closer, no doubt relaying what they're seeing to their master. The Atlanteans come to a relative stop some fifty metres away and one of the Eelfolk raises her right hand. "Ho, stranger! Identify yourself and state your business!"

No command to halt, I note. Underwater it usually wouldn't be practical. "I am Grayven. This is my daughter Lynne Wayland and my…" How to describe our relationship? "Student, Sunset Shimmer. We're visiting for the purposes of tourism and shopping."

"From where do you hail?"

"What, originally? I'm from Apokolips, Lynne's from the United States and Miss Shimmer's from Equestria." My magnified vision shows her puzzlement. "Yes, that didn't tell you anything, did it? Would it help if I promised that we're not here for the purpose of gathering military intelligence or picking a fight?"

I see her lips move slightly. Some sort of communication spell? A moment later the shape of the shoal around us changes slightly, pointing us in the direction of one of the approach corridors. "Follow that entry route. You'll be met by a escort detail at the city entrance. You will remain with them for the duration of your visit. Do you understand?"

I nods. "Of course. Completely. We'll behave ourselves. Will they be able to show us around?"

"Ah." It occurs to me that Venturia isn't exactly a tourist hotspot. "They.. should be able to?"

"Thank you." I focus and the sphere drifts in the direction indicated. "We'll get out of your way."

The fish start peeling off, returning to keep station around their handlers. Looking out into the waters I can see dozens of other patrol groups on duty around the edge of the boundary. I suppose that I shouldn't be surprised that this place is a bit police-state-ey.

"Will they let us visit their universities?"

"Hmmm. I was really thinking more about their bookshops. But they should. Higher level stuff will probably be considered a state secret for mages of proven loyalty only, but what we're looking for are things that are common knowledge in Atlantean society. Accessing it really shouldn't be a problem."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th April
20:38 GMT -1

Miss Shimmer taps the sales counter roughly with her right knuckles, next to the pile of scrolls she's attempting to purchase. "And you're sure these are going to be safe travelling underwater?"

Our gill-necked escort lounges against the wall near to the exit while Miss Shimmer discusses matters with the shop owner. The other two were the fish-tailed type and couldn't enter this part of the shop. I hadn't really thought about it before, but I suppose it makes sense that Dolphinfolk would much rather live in air-filled rooms where possible. I know that Miss Shimmer is certainly appreciating getting her helmet off. The exit/entrance is a pool of water in the centre of the room, where a magic seal around the rim prevents water from escaping upwards.

The shopkeeper glances at me, and I respond with a small shrug of my shoulders. Not sure that Atlanteans share that bit of body language. Realising that I'm not going to help, she returns her attention to Miss Shimmer. "Of course, Miss. We live underwater! I would not be able to sell anything if it could not survive the conditions."

Miss Shimmer narrows her eyes. "Then how about out of water?"

The shopkeeper looks around the room. "Ah..?"

"I'm not going to be able to keep putting preservative spells on them. I need to know they're going to be fine long term as they are."

She sort of doesn't. I'm going to be scanning them-.

Ploong.

Ah. Apparently I've already scanned them. Miss Shimmer's seen our computer systems, but from what I remember of My Little Pony Ponies didn't have anything more advanced than silent film reels. I don't think that she fully appreciates exactly what it means for data storage and utilisation. Something we can study… Or maybe I should ask Doctor Robbins to do that. Human computer systems are really more her area of expertise and between Lynne, Miss Amane and the Blacks I'm getting as much on my plate as I can handle.

"The scrolls are made from a biomantically enhanced form of albino sharkskin. Unless you're dealing with extremes of temperature, they should outlast you, even if you don't take special effort to preserve them."

"Hmm."

I had been planning to offer gold in payment, but I was swiftly told that only local currency was acceptable. I don't think that the local bureau de change ripped me off… It's a bit silly, really. The possibility bothers me even though I have effectively infinite money. Is that a New God thing, or am I just..? No, I'm in a situation where I lack the knowledge to be sure of anything and that's bothersome regardless of my core identity.

"Okay, I think that's everything." Miss Shimmer looks back at me, eyebrows raised. I nod and step forwards.

Venturia's currency takes the form of smooth stone discs inlaid with crystals which indicate the value. Fiat currency, and if it weren't for the weak enchantments on each coin I could ring fabricate as many as I needed. I don't really know how gold is valued down here, but the purchases we're making aren't particularly expensive. I hand over the required coinage and the shopkeeper, who briefly flicks her eyes in the direction of our escort as she waves each coin under a small… Looks a bit like a lamp, but there's no bulb and the inside has a runic inscription. Registering the transfer? She hasn't scanned me, so it can't be comparing the coin's aura to my own. Some sort of central register? Interesting as an anti-theft technique, though I imagine that it would drive the American libertarian movement mad with paranoia. Also, it appears to be completely routine. She isn't even really watching what she's doing as each coin appears to pass the test and is deposited in a cash box. Looks like they don't have a real cash register equivalent, and I can't say that surprises me.

"Will there be anything else, Miss? Sir?"

Miss Shimmer shakes her head. "No. I wanna get back to the mountain and try reading through these as soon as I can." She turns to me. "Can we just.. open a portal to go back?"

I nod. "Now I have an exact location, certainly." I smile at the shopkeeper. "Thank you for your help. Hopefully we'll be back once Miss Shimmer has finished with these."

Lynne looks up from the Atlantean desk top she'd been fiddling with. I think it might be.. alive. "Do we have to go home right away? It's an underwater city. Don't you want to see some more?"

"Not really." Miss Shimmer shakes her head. "You just don't know how crippled I feel, not being able to use an ability I was born with." Lynne's eyes dip slightly. "The sooner I start learning this 'Human magic' thing, the sooner I'll start feeling Equine again."

I raise my right hand slightly. "I can send you back immediately if you like, but I'll be hanging around for a little while. Which means that you'd have to use the G-Gnomes for translation."

Miss Shimmer makes a face as she transfers her scrolls to her satchel. "Fine. Where next?"

Our escort straightens up. "The palace."

I turn the corners of my mouth down for a moment. "I was thinking a museum or something. You have those, right?"

"Yes. But my orders are to take you to the palace once you've finished shopping." He looks a little nervous, and a moment later I realise that I've squared up to him. Gotta watch that. "Her Majesty de-. Um, has expressed a desire to speak with you."

"Alright then. Helmets back on, girls." Lynne pops hers back on easily, and I pull Miss Shimmer's hair back for her, earning me a quick flash of smile from her. "Do you know whereabouts Queen Clea wants us?"

"She is holding open court today. We will find her in-" Sinestro? "-main throne room. The swim should not take us…"

The room appears to be protected from ring scans, Corpsman, but the flow of traffic makes it somewhat obvious where it lies.

"…foreign visitors, so if you'll…"

Don't want to open a tube without knowing that there's air on the other side. Ah heck, Sinestro, tube to just outside the protected area. Open it just under the surface of the water there.

As you wish, Corpsman.

"…provide you with an escort." The guard looks at me expectantly.

"If you can keep up. Follow me, girls." I jump into the plunge pool and almost immediately the pull of gravity shifts ninety degrees to my right. We're in… Yes, the palace. Definitely a built structure, rather than force grown coral like the one in Poseidonis. I land on the stone floor just as Lynne comes through the tube behind me. She loses her orientation and flails about in the water for a moment before I catch her. Miss Shimmer comes through more cautiously, swimming a sort of doggy paddle as she adjusts to her environment.

And then I close the portal.

Lynne gives me as stern a look as she can from her current position. "Grayven, are you doing that thing where you annoy people for fun again?"

"Yes. Yes, I am." I nod at the petitioners who are staring at us, then connect beams of yellow light to Lynne and Miss Shimmer and form a yellow water snake construct around us to pull us through the water.

"Why?"

"Because it's fun."

We accelerate, zipping around the suddenly alarmed guards, through the opening leading to the throne room and sharply upwards into an air filled room. The girls I deposit on solid ground on either side, while I remain in the air. All eyes turn to me and all the guards either raise their weapons or prepare spells, their tattoos glowing.

"Hah hah!" On the throne at the end of the chamber Queen Clea -who really is a little too old to pull off that costume- leans forwards and claps sarcastically. "Grayven, welcome to my city. We're laying a feast on in your honour."

She is? "What did I do to deserve that?"

"You slew Ocean Master." She rises to her feet, leaning only slightly on her spear. "Such a deed made you a hero to all Atlanteans. And I'm told that you slew that reprehensible Chaos Lord Klarion as well." She looks around the room and her warriors return to a mildly more relaxed posture. "I would be very interested in getting to know you better. Unless you would like to splash around some more first?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th April
17:23 GMT -5

Richard glances at me thoughtfully as we walk towards the Gotham home of talk show hostess Mrs Emily Briggs. "You gunna give me a clue how the review's going?"

"Wasn't planning to."

Kon smiles at him. "You worried?"

"I'm not the one getting reviewed."

"No, but-." Kon cuts himself off. I don't think he's spent any time with Richard out of costume before. Not in a position where people might actually recognise Richard as being Richard, anyway. "Ah." And he's having a Bat Block. Can't call him 'Batman' out of costume and calling him Bruce just feels… Off. "Your.. dad is."

Hm. I've rather avoided calling him that. Not really sure if Richard.. thinks of him that way. I certainly don't remember him calling him anything other than 'Bruce' in the comics. He doesn't look bothered by it, though.

"Your Mom is too."

"Yeah, but Paul's spent plenty of time with Mom. If he didn't like the way she did something he'd have said so already."

"Chaps, this review isn't about passing or failing particular people. There's always room for improvement. My job was to identify those areas and draw our teachers'-" I step aside as a woman walking her dogs comes down the pavement in the opposite direction to us. "-attention to them. Though, since I know everyone's going to try to reduce it to these sorts of terms anyway…" I reach into my jacket with both hands and use the cloth to disguise myself taking two packs of Justice League Top Trumps out of subspace, before pulling my hands out and holding them out to my companions. "Take a look."

Richard takes the pack from my left hand and starts going through the cards one at a time, making sure to read all of the stats and probably attempting to understand my reasoning. Kon on the other hand just skims through until something catches his-.

"Have you shown this to Artemis yet?" He's smiling and his eyebrows are slightly raised, Mister Queen's card in his right hand.

"No."

"Why, what's it-?" Richard's eyes widen slightly. "Oh. You, ah… You really didn't hold back."

Unsurprisingly, pointy stick launcher man didn't score all that highly in most categories. "That wouldn't help anyone. You need to understand a problem before-" Kon's started flicking through again. "-you can fix it."

"Artemis and-." This time he looks surprised. "You scored Roy and.. uh, other Roy-."

"William."

"Right, William. You scored them higher?"

"Not on all categories. But they both use my equipment, Roy's getting used to my armour, Artemis is-" I glance at Richard. "-pretty strong. Aaand he isn't."

Mister Queen's got some work to do. Sophisticated -and highly expensive- arrowheads means that his DPS and combat utility are slightly higher than 'mook with gun', but there isn't all that much in it. There's a reason why soldiers use guns rather than bows. Yeah, bringing that up is going to be a little uncomfortable. Still, I'm definitely looking forward to the meeting. Siskin's been through another set of tests in Sephtian's workshop and he's received a clean bill of… Um, not 'health' exactly. Matrix stability. His entire metaphysique is inside the golem body and the binding spells are holding just fine. Which means we can make a body for Nabu. I mean, I find it a little strange that I've spent all this time preparing for a fight I might not actually end up having… But if it gets Mister Zatara back early and without all the risk I'm fine with that. Haven't mentioned it to Zatanna just in case, but everything I know about Lords of Order says that there's no reason for him to refuse.

Wonderful!

Richard keeps looking through the cards as we come to a halt in front of Mrs Briggs' house. "How come you want to meet Lia, anyway?"

"I knew Vampires were a thing on this Earth, but I've never had a chance to talk to one. And Vampires who were… Or.. are?" I shrug. "Metahumans before their transformation are going to be even rarer. Metahumans whose abilities activated after receiving particular environmental triggers-."

"Not sure I believe that whole thing about a comet."

"Maybe, but she definitely had powers before becoming a Vampire and she retained them afterwards. I mean, vampirism alone is worth my time. Improved strength, speed, agelessness-."

"You can never see the sun again."

"Depends on the mechanism. If it's scientific-" I step forwards and press the bell. "-then a radiation shield should be enough to block it. If it's magical, then a ward… Not a Spell Eater, but something more conventionally protective, should be enough."

"You have to drink blood. And you get mind controlled by whoever made you a Vampire in the first place."

"And those are actual problems, except-" I reach beneath my jacket again and pull out a blood pack. "-that we've learned to add arcane vitality to cloned blood. And we can probably-."

"Who is it?"

I turn to the intercom. "Special delivery for a 'Miss Allimrac'."

"I know you're referencing something stupid but I'm too hungry to care." There's a buzz and a click. "Get in here and close the door behind you."

The glass in the door to the porch is heavily frosted, and as I push it open I notice that the inside is covered with blackout curtains. "Wards on?" Two nods. "Alright then." I lead the way into the porch and try opening the inner door. Still locked. Of course, she doesn't want to risk sunlight getting in. As Ulli and Marquand pointed out, when hunting for Vampires make sure to do so well before sunset and we've got about two hours to go here. Kon brings up the rear and snecks the outer door. Ah, that's where the camera-. The electromagnet holding the inner door closed releases and I push it open. The interior is… Nothing like as gothic as I'd been hoping. I mean, the furnishing's nice, but there's barely-.

"Did you bring it?" The woman herself stalks out of a room adjoining the corridor. She's wearing low cut pink jeans and a blouse which leaves her toned abdomen exposed. The people she works with are well aware of her condition but they don't let her on camera still looking this pale. She stands with her mouth slightly open, long canines slightly exposed.

Richard smirks. "What? No 'Welcome to my house!'?"

She ignores him, eyes focusing on the bag in my hand. I hold it out and she approaches, snatching it out of my hand and then looking at me questioningly. "Don't worry, no anti-coagulant."

She slides a sharpened index fingernail across the bag, cutting through plastic and causing a small amount of the blood inside to flow out. She sniffs, then raises it to her lips and licks it, tasting it carefully. "Yours?"

"No. Synthetic. Any good?"

She nods. "I think so. And the rest?"

I take a small pendant off from around my neck. "Ward against sunlight and-" I unclip a small hemisphere of metal from my belt. "-a radiation shield. I want to.. test them first. Just to make sure. And… The other things. Batman said he explained?"

She takes another sip, then nods. "He did. And if these things work like you promised I'll be happy to help you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th April
23:07 GMT -1

It's a fish… Enclosure, floating in mid-air. I've seen some weird things since coming to Earth 16, but a perfectly cuboid area of water floating in the air underwater is hitting my already over stimulated oddness button. As I lean forwards to look at it more closely one of the inmates swims in my direction and takes the opportunity to stare back.

"Hehhahaha."

"Why do you find it so amusing?"

I turn from the pen to my hostess, noting that as my head comes to bear she makes a point of leaning less on her spear. Atlantean Purebloods like her age fairly gracefully, but she's nothing like as fit as her younger self who fought Diana in single combat and won.

"It's a pool of water underwater." I shake my head and turn back to it. "I realise that to you it's just food storage, but I find the incongruity appealing."

She turns to follow my gaze, perhaps trying to see it from alien eyes. "This is more for decoration than farming. Creating barriers with water on both sides is far easier than making it free floating."

"I'm a little surprised that you don't fleshcraft artificial 'meat fish'. It would be easier than maintaining pens…"

"It's been tried. The.. thing you end up with has almost no taste and little nutritional value. I suppose that if we poured effort into it we might eventually make something functional but I see little purpose in trying. Our seas are still full of fish."

"M." I nod. "Thank you for lending Sunset Shimmer your vizier."

"Oh, he was as fascinated to hear about how magic is practised in her land as she was to hear of the Venturian style. We would be willing to offer her a place here in one of our schools."

"Maybe, at some point in the future. I appreciate the offer, but at the moment she's still struggling to adapt even to being bipedal. Her knowledge of arcane theory and practice would be far behind that of her classmates."

"Very well. The offer will remain open."

I turn back to my piscine admirer. "Queen Clea, grateful as I am for your hospitality, I rather doubt that you were so overjoyed to see me that you set this whole thing up purely for my benefit."

"Of course not. I wouldn't insult you by suggesting it."

"Alright. No one else is here-" Sinestro?

You're clear, Corpsman.

"-and I've been suitably impressed by your largesse. What is it you want from me?"

She exhales. "A way out."

I frown faintly, turning my head back in her direction. "And what do you mean by that?"

"I'm an old woman. Before too long, I will be dead and my daughter Ptra will reign in my place. Or rather, she will abdicate her responsibility and hand it off to whomsoever King Orin deigns to appoint."

"I.. was under the impression that wasn't how it worked."

"In theory, it isn't. The nation of Atlantis is in theory a collection of largely autonomous city states bound together by common heritage and laws. The range of circumstances in which King Orin can involve himself in our internal affairs is strictly limited. Except when it isn't."

"Are you talking about your fight with Wonder Woman?"

"No. Though I disagreed with Queen Cora's decision, making treaties with foreigners is an area where monarchs such as I are expected to follow the lead of the ruler of Poseidonis. If she wanted to release a foreign royal as part of a settlement she was free to order it."

"Not still annoyed about it, are you?"

"Hardly. I could live with it, as long as our territory was maintained. Her establishment of a national senate, hah! I saw through that right away."

"Not sure I follow."

"As I said, city states are largely independent. Creating a national deliberative body in her city with the authority to pass laws? Clearly a power grab." Her jaw tightens. "Elections. Just a way of undermining me, of giving my people a level above me to appeal to. And one controlled by Poseidonis. No. When it was clear I couldn't simply opt out, I sent loyal counsellors to carry my words to the body and to oppose every attempt to increase the Poseidonian crown's authority."

"Alright. I don't know enough about Atlantean politics to argue the point, but let's assume everything you just said is true. Have they.. taken the authority to approve individual rulers?"

"Not precisely. My late husband -Ptra's father- was king… Proconsul, of Aurania. Aurania and Venturia are the southernmost Atlantean city states. We reigned over our respective cities, cooperated on a number of matters. When he died, I was naturally to assume rule of both cities. His Council opposed me, and contrary to the law recognised our daughter as his successor."

"And I assume that Queen Cora saw things their way?"

"To her mind, skipping a step in the succession was a small price to pay to avoid a violent confrontation. Ignoring that at the time Ptra was far too young to rule on her own, or the fact that Cora was bound by honour and law to aid me."

"What happened next?"

"Ptra completed her education in Poseidonis before returning to Aurania to take the throne. But all the power of her office had already been stolen from her. Worse, she'd been… Corrupted to the Poseidonian way of thinking. She fully supports Poseidonian supremacy even now."

"Wait a moment. How long ago was this?"

"Fifty or so years? I have adult grandchildren I wouldn't recognise, royals with no actual political power left. I'm the last city state ruler actively opposing Poseidonian control and I have no other children. I am extremely concerned that King Orin will take it upon himself to impose Ptra over my choice of successor."

What little I know of the place says 'yep'. "Who else do you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know. One of my great nieces or nephews, it doesn't really matter exactly which one. They're all properly educated. That's the sort of decision I want to leave until I literally can't leave it any longer. I don't want Orin turning them the way his grandmother did Ptra. I've seen once proud and independent cities increasingly bow their heads to Poseidonis and I won't have it happen here, do you understand me?"

"Oh, completely. I'm just not clear what you want me to do about it."

"I need to convince Orin not to. Either that, or weaken him so much that no one will obey him. I had hoped that taking a hard line against those ridiculous Pureblood Supremacists might buy him off but apparently that hasn't been the case at all. According to my agents he now thinks that I might have allied myself to Prince Orm!"

"And you didn't?"

"Of course not! He would have been even worse for centralising power than his half brother! At least Orin is just maintaining his mother's policies."

"Hm." Hm indeed. From the Light's point of view, Queen Clea is next to useless. She isn't two bodies away from the throne of a country, she's one from having no further influence over a single city. Taking a strong and open position myself seems like a good way to have the opposite effect…

On the other hand… "Do you feel obliged to oppose Poseidonian actions on principle?"

"Not so long as they are within traditional bounds, no."

"I understand that King Orin hasn't had the easiest time convincing the Atlantean senate to increase contact with the surface world in the way that he would like. Having grown up there himself, he feels rather strongly about the matter."

"I am aware."

"But with the demands on his time, governing his own city, being a member of the Justice League… He doesn't have time to pursue it as aggressively as he would like. Venturia has dominion over the Greater Azores. You are.. well placed to take a lead on the matter yourself, in his stead. Without reference to the senate. If you're interested, I could put you in touch with.. certain people..?"

She nods. "I could pursue an independent course of action which he would feel obliged to approve. Yes, that could work. Come." She turns away from the floating aquarium. "We will need to discuss things more fully with my advisors before we take action."

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th April
09:57 GMT -5

Guy raises his eyebrows slightly, his arms folded defensively across his chest as he stands next to the mountain training area's zeta tubes. "What? You not bringin' a clipboard?"

I shake my head as I walk towards him. "I've got an eidetic memory. Once I've done the research it just sits in my head for as long as I'm wearing the ring." I hold up my left hand slightly… "Do you think it would be better if I left John's.. other ring here?"

Guy thinks about it for about half a second. "Ahhh, wouldn't worry about it. You always wear it durin' our training sessions and he's never said anythin'."

"I just thought… This is a more formal thing, everyone's going to be looking at me and seeing two rings..?" He shakes his head. "Okay, you're probably right."

I walk past him into the zeta tube aper-. "Ow." I whip my head around, looking at Guy accusingly. "What was that for?"

He doesn't look even slightly guilty. "Somebody convinced Wondy t' stop wearing a swim suit."

"Do that again and I'll convince Black Canary to stop wearing tights."

"Eh." He shrugs nonchalantly. "That's Ollie's problem."

I frown. "Wait. Are you trying to tell me that you're actually interested in-?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm just saying there's a difference between checkin' out someone who's not with anyone and someone who is. Oh, hey, how'd that thing with that Vampire chick go?"

Nice subject change there, Guy. "Interesting. I handed a blood sample from her over to one of Sephtian's alchemy colleagues for a magic spectral analysis."

"Plannin' on turnin' us all into Vampires?"

"No. To be honest, even ignoring the sire's mind control ability it's too inferior to the Danner Formula for me to recommend it. You know, there was one funny thing about it. Vampires can't tolerate holy symbols, right?"

"Yeah?"

"There was a book I read back on Earth Prime, where the patriarch of a Vampire clan exposed his children to holy symbols of every religion on his planet at a young age so they'd build up a resistance. When I tried exposing Ms Barr-" Not Ms Briggs. She was quite insistent on the subject of not using her ex-husband's name post divorce. "-to religious icons, they didn't work if she didn't know what they were, but as soon as I explained them, she couldn't tolerate them."

He blinks. "Whow. Really?"

"Yep. By the end of it she couldn't even look at these rings because of the sigils on them."

"So… What, it's not God tellin' 'em t' get lost?"

"No, no, not at all. It appears to be innate to the Vampirism itself. The best idea I can come up with is it's some sort of built in warning mechanism, so the Vampire knows not to get into a fight it can't win. Or… It could be anything, really. She was actually getting a bit weirded out by it-"

The zeta tube chimes and we start walking forwards.

"-by the time we stopped."

"Can't you just ask-"

"Recognised, Green Lantern, one seven, Orange Lantern, B zero six."

9th April
16:00 GMT +1

"-whoever it was turned her into one?"

"No, Batman destroyed hoh goodness me." I stare stunned at Nightmare Moo-. Wait a second. I narrow my left eye as the chuckles from the Justice League's meeting table reach me. "Most amusing, sir, but you don't desire the same things she did."

Mister O'Brian shifts his head back into its normal shape, a neck about a metre long extending from Nightmare Moon's shoulders. He keeps the horn in the middle of his forehead as he grins down at me. "Not megalomaniacal enough for yah? Or do I need to work on my nicker?"

"Nightmare Moon was a mare." I walk past him in the direction of the table. "Put some clothes on, man."

There's another round of chuckles from the table as Mister O'Brian bends his neck around so that he can look at his really? Guy pats Mister O'Brian on the withers as he follows me towards the League's meeting table. Full house as far as League members go, Batman, Mister Kent and Diana at the head of the table with the others spread around the 'U'. Two empty seats, and those are quickly filled as Guy transitions -giving Jordan a smug grin as he settles into place- and Mister O'Brian extends his legs and strides past me on tiptoes.

"Good afternoon, sirs."

Mister Queen nods at me with a smile. "Got our report cards, teach?"

"Yes sir. However, I thought-" I come to a halt at the opposite end of the 'U' from Batman. "-it might be helpful if I explained the grading system first."

"For those not aware of why Orange Lantern is here-" I come to parade rest as Batman starts talking. "-I asked him to conduct a review of League performance, both of individual members and the organisation as a whole. This is not intended to single anyone out as underperforming, but rather to guide us as we work to improve our effectiveness in the future."

Mister Kent glances at him. I suppose that was a slightly 'management speak' way of putting it, but Bat-. But Bruce Wayne is a business owner. The full attention of the Justice League is on me now. I used to hate this sort of thing. If I'd been asked about delivering this sort of speech before I came to Earth 16 I'd have said that I'd have been a stuttering mess. Either that or cracking up at the daft costumes. But now? I'm fine. Even Nabu being here isn't bothering me.

Well.

Much.

"Orange Lantern, you may begin."

"Thank you, Batman." I take a second to make eye contact with the League members. "The first step in the process of assessing League performance was working out what the League is actually for. The League's internal documentation never expressly states a purpose, Superman's.. speech just prior to New Year notwithstanding. The nearest thing to a written mission is your United Nations Charter, which assigns you four main areas of responsibility. Firstly, assisting conventional authorities in crime fighting. This includes gathering evidence, pursuing leads, locating the criminals, apprehending them and securing a conviction. Secondly, dealing with supervillain attacks. Though there is some overlap, supervillains do sometimes just stride into a place and start smashing things. While conventional law enforcement is perfectly capable of dealing with conventional crime-" My eyes alight on Batman. "-when they're not being paid off by it, police cannot presently deal with high powered supervillains. The alternative to people like yourselves would be the military and I don't think anyone really wants their home cities blown up by a missile strike."

Mister Kent nods. "There wouldn't be much of Metropolis left by now if General Hardcastle had his way."

"Perhaps worse is that for the really tough ones, it wouldn't necessarily work. Black Adam took several anti-tank missiles to the chest and just laughed it off, and there are any number of exotic techniques for avoiding conventional weapons." I wait a moment before carrying on. "Thirdly, defending the planet against external threats. We're fortunate enough to live in a relatively peaceful area of space, but if anything does come here there isn't much other than the League which can fight it." I smile. "For the purpose of my study I used a slightly more realistic example than a fictional species-" My eyes alight on Mister J'onzz. "-that would increase their number to overcome any obstacle. I'll give you all a.. written copy at the end, but I used the examples of Gordanian pirates and Khundian and Thanagarian privateers."

Ms Thal glares at me. "Thanagar doesn't have privateers. And even if we did, we wouldn't send them anywhere near Earth."

"True, but the law of the Thanagarian Empire allows private corporations to own warships up to battle cruiser size and would -for example- allow a Thanagarian mining corporation to strip mine every part of this system except for Mars and Earth quite legally."

"It wouldn't happen. There are safeguards-."

"Would you like me to show you the relevant case studies?" For a moment it looks like she wants to continue the argument, then she sits back. "Fourthly, responding to natural disasters, minimising damage while it's ongoing and helping with the recovery afterwards. In addition to physically carrying out those four core aims, I had to assess the organisational skills and infrastructure which allowed you to achieve them within a reasonable time span. So, in summary, here's how I rate you currently as individuals."

And up come the top trumps holograms.

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th April
16:03 GMT +1

Mister Queen winces. "Youch."

"Now, the first thing you'll note-."

Guy grins. "Is that Lanterns rule."

I think about glaring at him, but Jordan and John do it for me. "Power rings are both powerful and highly adaptable. However, you'll note that the three of you score below average as criminal investigators. Like me, you either brute force it or assist local authorities with their investigation."

"Ah." Mister Queen points. "Can we.. talk about that for a minute? I feel like I'm kinda getting short changed there."

"Of course, sir. You are -by League standards- a reasonable criminal investigator. You are competent at handling low to mid powered supervillains or moderately well armed gang members in open combat, but the weapons you prefer to use are too weak to do much to higher powered ones, to say nothing of invading starships. Your ability to assist in -for example- an earthquake isn't significantly different to that of a reasonably athletic Human." I raise my hands. "If anyone wants to complain to me about their particular scores, they can do so later after they've read the full report. The point is, everyone…" I look at Mister O'Brian. "-with the possible exception of Plastic Man- could be doing something better."

His grin extends beyond the boundaries of his face. "Thank you, thank you."

"In designation order, Superman. You're noticeably vulnerable to a grand total of three things. I know Kryptonians had personal radiation shields. I know you know that I made one for Superboy. Is there a particular reason why you don't wear one?"

"Kryptonite isn't as common as people seem to think. Until recently I didn't run into it more than once a year." He nods. "But I understand what you're saying. I'm just not used to carrying equipment."

"I strongly suggest amending that policy, sir. Similarly, I'm going to suggest that everyone order a Spell Eater from the Poseidonis Conservatory of Sorcery… Apart from-" I turn to Nabu. "-Nabu. I'm not sure how it would interact with your innate magics sir, but if you'd like to pay a visit to the laboratory we can check that for you."

"That will not be necessary. I will see to my own protections."

"Alright then." I turn back to Mister Kent. "I don't know what information you have on Kryptonian technology, but I've never seen you exploit it other than to build your Fortress. Krypton was a spacefaring civilisation that chose isolationism. Depending on what Jor-El left you, there may be any number of things that could improve League capacities."

"Most of what he left me was cultural and historical records. But I don't mind taking another look through."

"Thank you, sir. Batman, I'm going to assume that your position on Human augmentation hasn't changed since last time I mentioned the possibility to you?"

"It has not."

Batman's score looks like he was min-maxing and did so more efficiently than Mister Queen. His investigative abilities are high and his ability to donate large amount of money to disaster relief charities means that he's quite good at those as well. His vast plethora of equipment, tactical and strategic acumen means that he's basically never useless in combat, no matter how powerful the opponent. Not much use in space, though. He has a spacecraft but it would die in seconds to just about anything that might actually pick a fight with it, and the warheads on the missiles aren't really anything special.

"Then my main recommendation is this: currently, you take receipt of all intelligence material which police agencies around the world pass to the League. You handle most diplomatic relationships. If a Gotham thug with an AK Forty Seven gets lucky tonight and you're seriously injured or killed, no one else is trained to do that."

"There are procedures in place to handle that in the event of my death."

"But no one's had enough practice. There would be a noticeable drop off in performance."

He inclines his head slightly. "Your suggestion?"

"No one on the League-" I don't look at the Hawks, just in case. "-has a background in intelligence. But, Hawkman and Martian Manhunter both worked with their respective homeworlds' police forces before coming here and are probably your best bets if you want to train someone up. Alternatively, you could consider either recruiting a civilian staff to handle it or a superhero who has worked in intelligence."

"You wouldn't-" Guy makes a face as he languidly waves his right arm in my general direction. "-happen to know one, would you?"

"Possibly. Unfortunately, the Brazilian intelligence services have either destroyed the records or found a way to block long ranged power ring intrusion. If that's the route you wish to take, sir, Fire may well have the skills required."

"I'll talk to the SNI about getting her records released."

"I've also taken the liberty of creating a full list of everything I'm doing with Mister Kord, Io and Sephtian in case you wish to add anything we're making to your arsenal. Please bear in mind that the list is only correct at the time of writing." Slight inclination of the head. "Finally, I would strongly recommend integrating a kinetic belt into your standard equipment. Most of your injuries while on active duty have been from kinetic attacks that it could deal with easily. Wonder Woman."

A slight rise in her left eyebrow. "You appear to think that my investigative skills could do with improvement."

"No. Well, yes, but complex criminal investigations have never been your focus and I'm not sure that all the extra training it would take to get you up to the level of some of your colleagues would meaningfully help either you or the League. If it's an area you wish to go into, you might be better off waiting until we've tested the medium term effects of G-Gnome knowledge transfers and just use one of those."

Mister Queen unslumps slightly. "Sounds like you're getting off lightly."

"I had originally been planning to nudge you about the armour again. Since that's no longer necessary I sent a basket of fruit, a bunch of flowers and a signed copy of All Star Comics issue three to Richard Swift in thanks." And wasn't getting that a pain in the arse. The Society sold the rights to allowing a slightly edited version of their travails to be sold to the general public, but they weren't anything as widely distributed as their modern equivalents. A few Leaguers frown in puzzlement at my comment while Diana just sighs. "Instead, I'm going to encourage you to consider increasing your use of equipment and to think about what you might like to use in future that doesn't currently exist. The lasso is excellent for gathering information and binding people but there have been a number of occasions… Even just since you joined the League, where something a bit more lethal would have been helpful and still not violated the League's restrictions on the use of lethal force."

"I'm sure that Philippus will be delighted that I'm practicing my sword drill again."

"While we're on the subject of lethal force, may I draw your collective attention to the incongruity of allowing the utter destruction of artificial intelligences and the undead while having synthetic and undead League members?" It takes a few moments for some of my superiors to work out who the 'vitally challenged' League member is, then Nabu receives a gratifying number of uncomfortable glances. "Particularly in light of the 'Citizenship Recognition Act' currently being debated in the American Senate?" The only real hold up came as a result of lobbying from tech companies who wanted some sort of security in case they created a true artificial intelligence by accident while studying intelligent systems. Their original request to be able to charge an AI the cost of creating it was shot down in short order, but they did negotiate immunity from prosecution as long as they took reasonable steps to confirm that whatever they were working on wasn't intelligent.

"I would appreciate it." Red Tornado doesn't have a particularly great range of intonation, but he makes the best of what he has.

"Flash. I'd like to spend some time with you examining the extent to which you can imbue or steal speed into different objects. I'd also like you to experiment with a subspace arsenal. At the speeds you can move there's little need for you to physically punch someone when a paralysis collar can render them harmless just as fast and far more safely."

"I haven't used weapons before because I'd have trouble keeping them at my speed. But if you've got a way around that, I'm all for it."

"Lantern Jordan." Who has the lowest rating of the three of the local Greenies. And whose bristling suggests that he's noticed. "I strongly suggest that you start coming to our training sessions."

"I'll see if I can make time."

John turns his head to face him. "I've actually found it really useful."

"Thank you, sir. Sirs. Aquaman."

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th April
16:11 GMT +1

"Green Arrow."

"Ye-ah?"

"What particular part of your skill set do you want to improve?"

"Apparently, I kinda need to improve all of it. Look, I know you're not much of a fan of the bow-" He leans forwards, elbows on the table as he gestures with his hands. "-but in the hands of an expert it holds up pretty well compared to guns."

While Green Arrow is physically in the same category as Batman, he lacks the piercing intellect and mental focus that puts Batman in the number two spot. I feel slightly bad about thinking it, but honestly? If I had to drop one person here from the team, it would be Pointy Stick Launcher Senior. "Red Arrow uses my arrow heads, Speedy is getting used to my light power armour and Artemis-."

"Oh no. You're not doing that to me."

"Sir, the Danner Formula is completely safe. Artemis' experience has been exactly in line with our predictions. There's a sixty year old Danner enhancile in India and one of Brazil's leading superheroes is a surviving Son of Dawn." For some reason Doctor Munro was much less eager to meet him than he was the Beresfords. Maybe he doesn't like being reminded of his father's failure? "The sole drawback is that you need a slightly higher protein intake, and unless you've been seriously injured it doesn't add up to more than an extra boiled egg for breakfast. Sir, your present rating takes into account the fact that you can be killed by a lucky bullet and so prevented from completing your mission. The thug you're taking down is shooting at you in exactly the same way whether the bullet will give you a mild bruise or makes a little hole in your chest-" I tap the left side of my chest with my right index finger. "-and a bloody great one out of your back." I create a construct meat geyser behind me, blasting out of the point directly back from where I tapped.

"If it's so great, how come you're not using it?"

"Last time I checked, it didn't interact with my blood sample at all. Now… I've changed myself so much that it's pretty much impossible for me to test it safely. The Danner Formula is the most straightforward way of improving your effectiveness. If you don't want to use it, that's up to you." We maintain eye contact for a moment or two, then I shift my attention to the next person on the list. "Hawkman-."

"Would you mind explaining to me why his rating is higher than mine?"

I risk a small smile at Hawkwoman. "Of course not, sir. Hawkman was a police investigator before coming to Earth. As a result, his skill at criminal investigation-."

"I know that, but I'm a better fighter than he is."

"The difference.. isn't significant, at the strategic level. You're both capable aerial combatants using Nth metal melee weapons. If-" I make eye contact with Hawkman. "-you don't mind me skipping ahead, sir? " A slight shake of the head. "I know that the Thanagarian military use a wider variety of weapons than those you habitually use on Earth. You've also got more experience of space combat than anyone else here. You know as well as I do how bad Earth's defensive situation would be if just about anyone with a fleet headed in this direction. Acting as a melee fighter is a sub par application of your skills as a military officer. I can't give you credit for those abilities because you're not making use of them. The Green Lanterns reactivated the Watchtower's deep space sensors when I drew their attention to the presence of a Star Conqueror. Before that the League were relying on Human space telescopes. Where's the sensor network? I know constructing one is standard protocol for new Thanagarian colonies because it's so essential in detecting threats early. Where are any of Thanagar's low lethality weapons, or higher lethality ones if the situation required them? I wasn't expecting you to break out the classified equipment, but as far as I can tell you haven't been using standard issue stuff."

"I'd.. need authorisation. The laws on bringing equipment onto less advanced worlds are quite exacting."

"Lanterns are extraterritorial. You can leave the technical specifications lying around somewhere, I can happen across them and build whatever was on it and then you can use it without breaking the rules. Again, I have the case law. Same with your armour, though in that case, against most things there isn't much difference in protective abilities between orichalcum and Nth metal."

"I want to check that for myself."

"I'll make an appointment with Mister Kord. Now, sir-."

…

9th April
16:28 GMT +1

Mister Yao bows his head slightly. "I will simply accept your word for it. My focus has been on my doctoral studies and not on the other aspects of my professional life."

"The armour should be ready for you by the end of the week, sir." Now the bit I've been waiting for. "Nabu."

"You do not know enough about the mystical function of Order to properly assess my achievements."

"That may well be sir, but I couldn't help noticing that you've been a member of the Justice League for over three months and the Watchtower is still unwarded. And that I'm the one insisting that members carry personal wards. I warded Mount Justice and I'm not even a magic user. I realise that warding an alien space station is harder, but you are a Lord of Order."

Nothing from Nabu. Sitting there, wearing Mister Zatara's body and seeing the room through his eyes, it's all too easy to forget that he isn't Human and has in fact never been Human. Whatever instincts he once had as a mortal Cilian, they've long since faded. He's actually more robotic than Red Tornado; at least Doctor Morrow made an effort to enable him to copy Human body language.

"The other thing I wanted to bring up, sir, is your vulnerability to physical attack. While you are perfectly capable of shielding yourself, by default you're little more physically resilient than Mister Zatara.. was."

"I will consider armoring myself."

"If you like, sir, but I've actually got a better idea. Sephtian and I recently successfully tested transferring an elemental into a golem body."

King Orin leans forward. "Mera told me about that. How is he adapting?"

"As well as can be expected, sir. We don't want to stress the matrix with too much testing, but so far he's been able to interact with the world entirely coherently."

"I require the body of a magic user to properly channel my magic."

"The golem body is thaumically active, sir. While you'd probably want to customise exactly how it works, since you're drawing power from the Plane of Order rather than the Earth's arcane networks, there's absolutely no reason why it shouldn't be able to support you just as well as a human host. With the advantage of greater physical strength and endurance and being rather easier to repair and replace. If you'd like to check our working-."

"No."

…

"No as in-?"

"No. I will not leave this body."

Well. I'm just going to have to kill you, then.

Though this could be a useful opportunity to create a rift between him and the rest of the League. "Would you care to explain, sir? If you're concerned about the technology-."

His eyes begin to glow gold. "I will not justify myself to you, chaos worshipper."

"I assure you sir, Eris had nothing to do with the development of this technology. The laboratories in Poseidonis are warded against that sort of-."

"You will desist at once!"

A flicker of empathic vision on the other League members lets me know that I've pushed as far as it would be productive to push at this point. "Very well then, sir. Let me know if you change your mind. Atom."

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th April
16:42 GMT +1

"…obvious problem of bringing your power to bear at a single point. The zeta tube network-" I trigger the holoprojector to display a world map with the position of each zeta tube displayed. All too few points. "-is only really useful in tactical terms for locations that already have zeta tubes, and for League members who are already close to one. Otherwise, by the time anyone-" I gesture to him with my right hand. "-with the notable exception of the Flash can get there, whatever's happening has already happened. And that's leaving aside the effect of atmospheric disruption, which can make whole areas unreachable."

King Orin nods. "Do you think the Dolmen Gates would be a better option?"

"Unfortunately, no. While they are… Much more difficult to disrupt and much cheaper to run than zeta tubes, the current design has to be circular. As a result, it's far harder to hide. In addition, unless everyone wants to learn the magic required, we'd have to use the 'always on' versions. We can make ones which deposit people with access talismans in one place and anyone else in another, but you're still going to need thousands to get anything that could be called 'rapid response' coverage. The best idea I was able to come up with was creating a Gate which the Flash could carry into position, but that would rely on him being available all of the time."

"Not sure Iris would be too keen on that."

I nod. "Recruiting dozens of people and giving them the Garrick Formula might make it viable, but that's a fairly extreme measure. In lieu of that, I've come up with two basic options. Firstly, we could move to a system of teleportation."

Mister Freeman leans back slightly. "I would be concerned with the safety of a teleportation system that used a base station on only one side."

Mister J'onzz nods. "I have some experience with zeta teleportation myself. If Martians were not as protean as we are I doubt that I would have survived the experience."

"There are dozens of different teleportation designs-" All three Green Lanterns start looking uncomfortable. "-and I don't work under any sort of technology sharing prohibition. It would be possible to get the end point definition required using a satellite network. Five point target confirmation is usually considered acceptable for civilian use. That could only transport you to a location on the surface, but if we're envisaging using this to stop ongoing rampages that's where you'd be needed anyway. In terms of infrastructure it would require a global dedicated satellite network of a sort that can't be created using Human technology. About two hundred satellites would be required to guarantee global coverage, but once you have that you can send anyone anywhere in moments."

"Alternatively -and I've been thinking about this ever since the Roanoke Island Incident- we could carry out a full thaumic mapping of the Earth and use variable end point Dolmen Gates. A slightly more refined version of the technique we used to get up here at New Year. The drawback there is that you need a couple of magic users steering them, though once their end point is set you can just leave them running. But on the plus side-."

"Producing a full thaumic map of the Earth is well beyond your abilities."

I smile politely at Nabu. "The basic principles involved are familiar to Atlantean magic, though they've never been applied on this sort of scale before. As near as I can work out, the lead time on creating the rune stones needed would be less than building a satellite network, though similarly you would need to leave them in place. The precise arrangement of thaumic networks changes constantly and an inaccurate map would be useless."

Batman nods. "Do you have anything else to say on this subject?"

I nod. "The other way of ensuring a rapid Justice League response would be a massive increase in the number of League personnel, but that's… Moving on to the subject of organisation which I wanted to cover a little later."

"The other major infrastructure problem is the lack of space-based assets. With no central lantern, the Watchtower has little in the way of protection and nothing in the way of weapons… Other than its own mass. While I can understand the desire not to have any weapons which could be pointed downwards, the lack of weapons pointed upwards severely impairs your ability to deal with a space-based attack. I was pleased to note that the Watchtower's interdiction systems are back online, but you've still got a situation where anyone advanced enough to make it to this system can send sub-light probes towards the Earth and cause an extinction level catastrophe with a kinetic harpoon volley. But if we limit ourselves to the three most probable-" Ms Thal crosses her arms across her chest. "-potential aggressors…"

I generate another hologram. "Gordanians use large and comparatively slow ships which usually also serve as their habitation." A small flotilla appears, matched by those League members who can meaningfully fight in space: Superman, the Lanterns, Captain Atom and Icon. Even with everything I've already researched about him, I don't really know enough about what Nabu can do in space to include him. "Gordanians tend not to use fighter craft but they do use swivel mounts and their shields will make closing the range inadvisable. Assuming that they're detected in time and one of the Lanterns transports everyone into place, this fight is winnable with no fatalities on our side. If it is treated as a military engagement. Otherwise… There's no cover in space and most of the weapons they'll be using are light speed. Most of the League members shown here can take a few hits, but you all need to breathe and your respiratory equipment is generally less tough than you are." The Green Lanterns make shields to defend their colleagues, who open fire. Gordanian shields hold out for a short time, then fracture, causing the League members' exotic attacks to strike the hulls underneath. "What you have to remember is that with the interdiction fields up there's no quick way for them to retreat. If they commit to an attack, they will keep going. Disabling attacks in space are as much of a myth as non-lethal weapons, and given the usual sloppy discipline Gordanian raiders operate under this will result in the deaths of a large number of those on board. If you want to try treating it as a policing action and minimise the risk to those on board-" The images hug ship hulls and attack only weapon mounts. "-then you will take casualties-" Captain Atom is repeatedly hit. "-and most likely fatalities."

The hologram resets. "Similar set up, this time with Gordanians with ties to the Citadel and so better technology." The ships' shields flare as the Leaguers close the distance, stunning them. Then the shooting starts. "Unlike most weapons you encounter on Earth, spacefaring races are perfectly capable of hurting even the toughest of you. Their targeting computers will have better effective range than you, they won't cluster up and they will use area denial weapons." Jordan, Icon and Superman take repeated hits and evaporate. "In this situation, the presence of non-Lanterns actively impedes the survival of the Lanterns by anchoring them in place. This is still winnable, but not everyone is coming home."

The image shifts again. "Khundian ships this time. Much better technology and doctrine." After the League fighters appear the Khundian warships are fast and agile enough to keep away from them, constantly moving relative position to change the shield facing their attackers. "They also use attack craft, power armoured marines and their capital ships usually bring their own interdiction fields with them. Against a Khundian fleet of any significant size, I do not believe that the League is capable of winning."

"A Thanagarian fleet is both harder to deal with and less of a threat. The Thanagarian laws on attacking less developed worlds within the Empire's borders are strictly enforced, and under Earth law there is no clear mechanism for claiming extraplanetary territory. Thanagarians have approximate technological parity with the Khundians but are much better equipped to deal with exotic effects."

I don't bother showing the results of that confrontation. Thanagarian 'private security' vessels vary so much in form and function that aside from conforming to the letter of the law they don't have all that much in common with each other. Some are ex-military, purchased by private concerns. Others are upgraded civilian vessels, either turned into warships or just used for their original purpose with added 'pirate deterrent'.

"In summary, the League is woefully limited in its ability to deal with an actual offensive space-based force. Of its core aims, I would say that this is presently the League's weakest area. Doing anything significant about this would require a significant increase in the League's military power, and that may not be something you're comfortable with. On the other hand, I doubt you'd feel too happy about someone successfully invading the planet either. Earth lacks the technology to respond effectively to this sort of attack. We do have weapons perfectly capable of harming a lot of what the universe is likely to throw at us, but we don't have the delivery mechanisms or equivalent defensive systems. We don't have ships and the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaties mean that weapon platforms would currently be illegal."

I pause for a moment.

"I may be pushing my luck here, but how do you feel about me coming back in four months, gutting the green light systems from the Watchtower and bringing it up to full operating capacity with an orange battery?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th April
16:51 GMT +1

"I had a brief discussion with Batman about this last year, but I don't think that the current method of recruiting League members is a good one, and I think that it may break down entirely before too long."

Yes, I know that the purpose of the organisation should be to fulfil the aims of the organisation and not merely to perpetuate the organisation, but this sort of thing does need to get thought about every so often.

"At present, any member may propose a new member and every member has a veto." And I'm not thinking too much about what it means that no one at all voted against Nabu. "The problem with this is that as the League grows, more people have a veto and the chance of someone being approved is reduced. This isn't exactly helped by the fact that there's no clear recruitment criteria. The practice so far appears to be for members to nominate people they've met and checked out, with little or no consideration given to what skills would be most useful to the League. For example-" The holograms move around me. "-Superman, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Hawkman, Hawkwoman, Captain Atom, Captain Marvel, Red Tornado and Icon all have both super strength and the ability to fly. Only Accomplished Perfect Physician can heal injuries. However good they were at their job, however good and trustworthy a person they were, how much would having another strong flier add to the League's capacities? Similarly, the League has one magic user. My teams has five, not counting Troia's evocations. The League has one telepath. And as a consequence of recruiting known quantities, the League is somewhat American-heavy. No offence intended to my colonial brethren."

There's an extremely polite laugh from a few places.

"No one's going to refuse access to the Justice League on the grounds of nationality, but that does mean that you're ignoring a huge pool of talent because the people who have it don't live in the right place. For example-" A new hologram. "-this is He Who Follows. He works in Iran. Aside from myself and Batman, had anyone heard of him?"

Blank.

"Super speed, regeneration, some sort of air current manipulation. He also follows League guidelines on use of force and cooperation with the local authorities." To be fair though, he's been active for less time than everyone here except Icon. Another hologram. "This is Janissary. She's a medical doctor and magic user and she's been active since nineteen ninety nine." That is to say, as long as Batman and longer than most of the others. "Wonder Woman, you were actively looking for more female superheroes. Have you heard of her?"

She shakes her head. "I think I may have to arrange to meet her."

"Roughly a quarter of Atlantean battlemages are female. More, if you expand your selection criteria to magic users who can both cast combat spells and do other things. There are an awful lot of people around who could be on the Justice League who aren't getting a look in."

"But let's move back onto the organisational issue. The more people taking part in decision making, the more people who need to be consulted, the slower decision making becomes. That's fine for a small group, but the League isn't a small group any longer. And I'm assuming that you aren't planning to stop expanding, because if you are… Several of my team mates are going to be rather upset with you. I haven't seen anything written down about how big you're planning on getting, just as I haven't seen anything written down about what you're recruiting for. But, I came up with a few possibilities for future organisational structures, each of which could work. Then, you need to decide which way you want to take it."

"Firstly, you could certificate existing superheroes. Propagate a set of standards, offer equipment, training and League facilities. Though they wouldn't become League members, that would give you a wider pool of people to draw on in a crisis and a wider skill base. And let those of you who maintain secret identities have some time off every so often." A few rueful nods. "Current League members would in effect serve as officers and keep those functions involved in the running of the organisation divided amongst themselves. People would only be promoted to the League proper when there were openings due to death or retirement, and those openings would be filled by affiliates."

"Secondly -and I'll warn you that in the style of Sir Humphrey Appleby this is very similar to the first option- you continue to recruit anyone with the right skill set, but appoint an executive to approve new members.. and make most other operational decisions. This executive would probably be elected by the membership as a whole. This has the advantage of not causing those nominated for membership to feel excluded, but would most likely result in some of the people who are currently members losing some of their authority."

The Earth 12 option. Sort of. I never got the feeling that the authority of the original seven was in any way up for debate, even when a good proportion of the membership flat out hated Hawkgirl.

Now for Sir Humphrey's option three. The unacceptable one. "Alternatively, it may be easier not to recruit from existing superheroes at all, and instead train your own from scratch. By that, I don't mean taking on a lot more sidekicks. I mean find people -ex-military, police, or just people who have the right attitude- put them through a training program and if they pass give them super powers." I hold my hands forward and take two vials out of subspace. "Both the Danner and Garrick Formulae are easily mass produced." I send them back into subspace and take out the most recent iteration of my power armour. "Power armour, perfectly mass producible as both the Russian government and LexCorp are proving. Cold guns, mass producible. Orichalcum, not currently mass producible but we're working on it. Kinetic belts-" I tap mine. "-mass producible… With a little difficulty. If you're willing to move away from the traditional style of superheroism, you can get a lot of-."

"How about cloning Kryptonians?" The set of Superman's jaw indicates his displeasure at the idea.

"Of course not, sir. Creating people purely to use them as weapons is grotesquely immoral, the only pure Kryptonian produced by Human science is insane and hybrids like Kon don't really have much advantage over Danner Formula augmented Humans." Though I do need to talk to him about this after the meeting. "Bringing arcane education to the surface world would also produce a pool of people with useful and currently very hard to get abilities. I know-" I look at King Orin. "-several governments have expressed an interest in doing their part to ensure that we don't ever have another Roanoke Island."

"It cannot." Thank you, Nabu. "The Witch Boy cannot both channel such great magics and evade my detection."

What's the politest way to put this..? That will still set him off? "Nabu… You're not exactly a Klarion hard counter. Of the last three occasions you met him-" I dismiss the holograms and replace them with a recording from my perspective of the top of the Tower of Fate. "-on the first, you spent the whole fight on the defensive until I arrived-" The image shows Nabu being protected by a shield as Klarion throws red lightning at him. "-and I was the one who went after his familiar. Successfully." A scene shift. "At sixteen percent power. And Klarion still got away."

"My host was not properly able to-."

"The second time you met -on Roanoke- Klarion was able to retreat unimpeded again." The holoprojector shows Klarion waving goodbye as his shield fails. "And to be honest, having read up on that jewel I'm not entirely sure that your contribution was entirely-."

"The Witch Boy fled before I could bring my full might to bear."

"Though at that point, his allies had already recovered the Starro fragment from STAR Labs. He didn't have any reason to stay and try to fight you." The hologram switches to showing me fighting in this very room while another shows Nabu being taken down by my team mates. "Then the third time, you were mind controlled by him, having been in the vicinity of other people being mind controlled by him for some time without realising it. And having not felt his magic in the Starro tech itself. My binding chains held Klarion perfectly well, Lord of Chaos or not." Honest enquiry face. "Do you think it might benefit you to become more closely involved-"

Nabu stands. "I will not be spoken to in this manner!"

"-in my arcane research projects? Or would you-"

A golden ankh forms around Nabu and a moment later he's gone.

I don't smile.

"-rather storm off like a petulant child?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th April
17:27 GMT +1

I finish my walk around the statue then float upwards to try seeing it from an elevated position. Canis Minor must have come back at some point to finish it. I'm not usually one for art, but this… If it wasn't for all the horse poo it would be really nice.

Oh that's right. I'm an orange lantern.

One of the horses is scratching an itchy flank against the stone, and it snorts and takes a couple of steps away as the orange light takes hold of the excrement and spreads it out across the nearby grass. The Watchtower doesn't have flies, but the garden has a healthy worm population and the climate control systems make it rain every so often. When this place was converted for League use they brought in just enough plant and animal life to keep the oxygen flowing but no one was really interested in creating an ecosystem. I don't think anyone even takes honey from the bee hives.

"Good, isn't it?" I look around as Superman flies down to hover a little way from me. "We offered to take it down to Earth, but Canis Minor said that it belonged up here."

"The point was creation and commemoration, not owning. Why put it somewhere other than where it should be?" I glance back up at the window to the meeting room. "Things going well up there, or..?"

"We're taking a short break. It's.. not easy being told everything you're doing wrong."

"Everyone on the Justice League has done so much for their fellow Earthlings already." That gets a small smile. "I'm not trying to.. do the League down. You're all amazing; what you volunteer to do is amazing. I'm just trying to… Help you do more. And, y'know, keep you alive while you do it."

"I know." He nods. "Do you have time to make that radiation shield for me now, or should I come back later?"

"Now's fine, sir. On the..? Belt buckle?"

"It's that small?"

"The version I gave Kon is. Really, it's a trade off in power and battery life, but since Kryptonite radiation is actually not.. very strong, and you won't be using it all the time, small works fine." I hold up my left hand and an orange strobe plays over his belt. "If you actually wanted to go to the Rao system or something you'd want something a little heavier. Sir, I… Why do you-?"

"Why do I have a belt?" He chuckles. "I remember what you and the Ophidian did to my trunks-."

"I'm really sorry about that, sir."

"I've had worse critics before." The light playing over his belt cuts out. The 'buckle' unit has about twice the volume it did before, but the change isn't really that noticeable. "I realise my costume isn't exactly 'cutting edge'-."

"No, no, the costume's fine, sir. Solid colour, clearly visible logo. I don't really like capes, but you pull it off. The.. pants…" I hold my hands out to the side, palms up.

"It was originally supposed to be a.. circus strong man sort of thing. The rest got added because I couldn't fly around in just my trunks."

"And the belt?"

"When I started out, they did sometimes get… Pulled down. Because of how fast I was flying." I look away, nodding. "Was that your honest assessment of what would happen if the League faced a group of warships?"

"That was the result of a lot of simulations. The exact result depends on your assumptions about what they know, how they respond. Broadly, though? Yes."

"I suppose we've been lucky so far."

"This is a peaceful region. The chance of being attacked isn't all that high. The only real local power that might threaten Earth in that way is the Black Circle, but they're criminals and raiders, not a navy. Their fleet assets aren't often used for attacking places that can fight back."

"So we don't need to arm up just yet. You had me worried for a minute there."

"Statistically… No. It probably isn't necessary. It would help in some ways, hinder in others…" I shrug. "It's a path you could take."

Ring, anyone else around?

I get a clear impression of the Watchtower, and the locations of everyone on board. Looks like Nabu did leave.

"Sir, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh? What is it?"

"You may want to sit down."

He looks at me curiously for a moment. "I prefer to take my bad news straight."

"It's not bad news sir, but alright. I was always a bit sceptical of the idea that starfaring species could have been rendered near-extinct by a single disaster-."

He looks down. "They can if they isolate themselves on their homeworld."

"Right, but everyone? So… After I got Lantern Stewart's ring I had a look through the database. See if I could track down any Kryptonians who might have been elsewhere."

His face stills as he looks at me in shock. "You found someone?"

Tracking down a single planet in a galaxy when you have no real idea where it is isn't very easy. I was rather lucky finding a specific reference to a 'Dax-Am' in the Corps' records on Kryptonian society itself. Then I tried comparing the faces of his followers to those on other humanoid inhabited worlds. That got me nothing. Looking for humanoid inhabited worlds orbiting a red giant narrowed it down a bit, looking for one colonised rather than indigenously inhabited narrowed it further, then it was a matter of looking at the records and finding the best fit.

"I found a colony. It's on the planet Daxam in Space Sector one seven six zero. The original colonists appear to have been.. Kryptonian Amish, effectively. According to Green Lantern Corps records-."

"What?!" His eyes widen. "That was on John's ring? Why didn't he tell me?"

"The Green Lantern Corps missed them because they've.. pretty much abandoned Kryptonian culture as it was then. Since Daxam orbits a red giant they don't have any of the signature Kryptonian superpowers… And they retained the Kryptonian habit of isolating themselves and doubled down on the xenophobia. The local Lantern just had time to confirm that there was a settlement before they opened fire and chased her off. If I didn't know exactly what I was looking for I wouldn't have been able to find it."

He nods, his eyes shifting to the ground below us as he gets his thoughts in order. "Sector one seven six zero. Where is that?" I wave my right hand and create a galaxy map, our position and Daxam's clearly marked. Quite a long way. "Ah."

"I can give you a lift in three months. Or you could probably arm twist Lantern Tomar-Re into giving you one now." He nods. "I should warn you, they're probably not going to be friendlier to an outsider just because he happens to be from the same species as them."

"I.. better brush up on my Kryptonese." He smiles at me. "Shame you couldn't find someone closer." His smile disappears. "You found someone closer?!"

"Um." Stupid… Super senses. "Ssssort of?"

"On Earth? Where?"

"Thing is, sir… They… Know you're here. I mean, you're not exactly subtle, you wear the sigil of House El on your chest..."

"Why is that a problem?"

"The individual in question was a member of the Kryptonian navy who went AWOL when the Science Council took over. While Jor-El was opposed to isolationism, House El as a whole was in favour of it and several members of the Science Council-."

"And they blame me for that?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "Let me talk to them."

"I.. rather promised that I wouldn't, sir. They were… Percussively emphatic about not wanting anything to do with you." The muscles around his jaw tighten. "I wouldn't tell them that you're Clark Kent; it's hardly fair to expect me to spill their secrets."

"Maybe not. But I certainly didn't promise that I wouldn't look-."

And then the alarms start blaring.

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th April
17:32 GMT +1

Mister Kent surges upwards, head turning left and right as he looks for an attacker.

Ring, armour.

Compliance.

My power armour manifests around my body, immediately followed by my construct armour.

Mister Kent's right hand goes to his ear. "Batman?"

Ring, scan.

I get a clear image of everything except vault six. Vault six was… Where we're storing the remains of the Einherjar. Theft attempt or did they get up on their own? Not detecting zeta radiation, not detecting… No, check hull integrity in case of scry warded boarders. No, that's fine. No boarding craft. If it was an attack, it would have to be a snatch and grab. Members of the Justice League are monitored a lot of the time when they're out in public, but given that secret identities seem to work I doubt they're monitored full time. Either the identities would be compromised or the Leaguers would notice.

The Light know their identities, but either they wouldn't attack while everyone was here or that attack would be a nuke and it would have gone off by now. Looks like reanimation is the most likely option. We never found out why they fell when the portal closed… Oh, in general terms, their connection to the Norse afterlife got interrupted, but the precise mechanics? Why they showed up in white light in my empathic vision? How they were able to keep functioning when stuck with anti-magic arrows? No idea. At least we were able to get their weapons and armour stored away from them.

Thirty seven unarmed undead Vikings? The League should be able to handle that. It will be interesting to see how intelligent they are when not being directed by the Krieger brothers… Wait. Does that mean that they're back on Earth? Klarion being back would be bad, but the other two are fairly manageable. I checked with Alan and the Spear's mind control effect requires that the user already owns the area it's being used in or the performance of a lengthy ritual to claim ownership. Easy enough when the League are already mind controlled; not quite so easy when they're not.

I generate a railgun, then blink in surprise as the light crawls out at snail's pace. Oh, I'm accelerating. Right. Stooop.

Mister Kent is looking down at me. "We've got an intruder-."

"Vault six. Probably the Einherjar reanimating. Guess we should have tied their big toes together. Should I attend?"

The very faintest suggestion of a frown momentarily graces his brow, but he's used to working with Mister Allen. And Batman, I suppose. "Do you think there's any chance we could talk to them?"

"Should be able to. The ring's automatic translation didn't work last time, but the effect blocking it may have been bound to their armour. And I can just instruct the ring to do an automatic translation based on historical Scandinavian languages. Won't be quite as good, but it should do the job."

"I meant, do you think we can settle this peacefully?"

"Oh. No idea. Assuming they actually are Einherjar and not just something the Nazis created based on the myth, they're supposed to serve as Odin's army against the Ice Giants. How inclined they are to be peaceful depends on whether they feel obliged to return to Valhalla whole or if they can get back by dying in battle again."

"We can probably help them with that."

"Sir? We don't actually know that they would go back to Valhalla if we destroyed them. And remember what I said about the undead being people too?"

"You may have a poi-." He pauses for a moment. "Flash is just outside the vault. The doors look like they're about to give way. Can you get us there?"

"Stand by." I tag him with a filament. No real resistance there. Maybe I should work on some sort of armour for him? "Transition." Our surroundings flicker repeatedly as the sealed doors of the Watchtower's interior force me to stop on four occasions and poke tiny holes through them to carry on. Add interior force fields to the list… I'm not complaining, but it really shouldn't be possible to just-

We appear outside the vault, Mister Allen looking around as the air displaced by our arrival breezes past him.

-do this in a secure location.

"Superman. Orange Lantern."

There's a tremendous clang from the vault door and it bows outwards a little more.

"Can either of you tell what's going on in there?"

"Scan isn't giving me much."

Mister Kent narrows his eyes slightly, then shakes his head. "Remind me again why we lined these storage rooms with lead?"

"In case you were storing radiological materials, probab-." Oh. "Rhetorical, sorry." I raise my hands slightly as another banging impact causes the walls to shudder. "Sonic probes… Oh. No, can't get a good reading through whatever these walls are made of."

Another bang, and I notice that the doors shift back slightly as the pressure is withdrawn from the far side. Not good.

Mister Kent nods, then drops to the ground in front of the door terminal. "I'll try talking to them. Orange Lantern, I'll need you to translate."

"Sir, might I suggest doing that from a little further away? Magic is one of your vulnerabilities."

"I don't think Vikings will be more likely to listen if I'm hiding." He touches his fingertips to the console's scanner, getting a green light. "This is Superman."

There's another bang on the doors as the ring comes up with its best interpretation for 'Superman' in Old Norse. Maybe I should have told it to refer to him as Kal-El instead?

"You're inside our Watchtower. Identify yourselves."

I hear a quiet voice, and several moments pass with no more bangs. Then there's a short burst of untranslatable Norse. Intelligent undead, at least.

"I am Prince Jon Haraldson, Marshall of the Einherjar. Open these doors at once."

Mister Kent looks at me. "Should I call him 'Marshall' or 'Prince'?"

How the heck am I supposed to know? Ring, anything on Viking military organisation?

Data available.

"Probably Marshall, but the Vikings were pretty informal about that sort of thing. But Marshall implies that he's in charge of the whole thing, all the Einherjar."

Mister Kent nods. "You came here in the service of our enemy, Marshall Haraldson. I'm not too keen on giving you the run of the place."

"His pact with Odin had us fight for him once. If he fell, then his bargain died with him. Our allegiance is to Odin."

"I want your oath that you will conduct yourselves peacefully while you are here."

There's a pause. Again, through the damaged doors I can hear snatches of conversation.

"Do you rule here?"

"Batman is our current chairman, but I can speak for him."

"I will so swear if I may have the same oath from you."

Mister Kent glances at me once more. "Will he keep his word?"

"If he swears by a god he's literally met? I think so. I mean, trust but verify…"

He nods. "I swear by Rao that you will be treated as our guests, unless you violate our hospitality."

"Then in Odin's name I swear that we will behave as your guests. Now open the door!"

Mister Kent presses the door release. The mechanisms clunk, then nothing happens. "Marshall, you've damaged the door mechanism. I'm going to have to force it." He walks out in front of the door. "Flash, Orange Lantern, stand back. Just in case."

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th April
17:36 GMT +1

His eyes narrow, then twin beams of red light lance out at the metal near the join between the two halves of the door. A second later he stops, then shoves his hands into the softened metal. His muscles bulge as he pushes against the door mechanism. Ooo, this could be a fascinating opportunity to observe exactly how the body of a full blooded Kryptonian behaves when it's exerting-.

Darn. Too late.

There's a horrendous screech as the mechanism gives way. Mister Kent's arms shoot out to the sides as the two parts of the door slam back into the walls. On the other side are the Einherjar, the one I recognise from the fight at New Year as their leader standing about two metres away from the newly opened door. His hands are empty and visible as he regards Mister Kent with curiosity.

The rest of his motley crew are less inclined to passivity. Slightly crouched as if ready to receive a charge they clasp glowing, partially translucent swords and axes in their hands. The one next to Prince Jon has even managed to create a shield to go with his axe; I can dimly see the crossed forearms minus one hand coat of arms. Would it be a coat of arms for a Viking? So… Were they extending that aura over their weapons and armour during the fight? That might explain why we had such trouble working out how they work.

Mister Kent stands and wipes the partially molten metal residue from his hands before rising slightly into the air. A few of the Einherjar brace again as he does so, and from how Prince Jon's eyes move I think he noticed. He steps forward, jostling the shield bearer aside as he does so. Then he starts speaking. Hearing foreign languages at all while I'm wearing the rings just feels weird.

"Health and happiness, Superman." He holds out his right hand.

Mister Kent drifts forwards a little before landing again, his point hopefully made. "May God keep you and bless you." He extends his hand, and Prince Jon takes hold of his forearm. Mister Kent copies the gesture without missing a beat.

The man with the shield mutters something, and a moment later I get the translation. "Christ men. Feh. I thought we were done with those."

Prince Jon pulls away from Mister Kent to glare at him. "You'll keep a civil tongue in your head, Lars. We're their guests, and your failure to discipline your sons is no one's fault but your own."

Lars sneers, but doesn't otherwise respond. Prince Jon then turns back to Mister Kent, for a moment looking past him to myself and Mister Allen. "I don't recognise you from the fight. Were you there?"

"By the time Wolf Krieger called for your help, I was already unconscious."

Prince Jon nods, then focuses on me. "You, I remember. You destroyed my shield."

I nod. "What? If you hadn't wanted me to shoot it, you shouldn't have blocked my shot."

He grins. "Heh hah!" Then he nods. "True. But my wife has spent a long time trying to teach me not to block attacks with my body. She says that I can never tell when one of them will be something I'm not invulnerable to." He points to his left eye with his right hand. "Like those arrows."

"A wise woman. I'm trying to teach-" I point at Mister Kent with my right forefinger. "-Superman the same thing."

Behind him, Lars mutters something and Prince Jon's eyes widen in alarm. The other Einherjar take a few steps away from Lars as the translation comes through. "Perhaps he's the blue one's wife."

Prince Jon turns sharply on his heel and punches Lars full in the face, sending him flying backwards through the ranks of the Einherjar, halting only when he hits the far wall. Prince Jon stares down at him for a moment, then turns back to me. "You have my sincerest apologies for his words. Upon our return to Valhalla I will see him harshly disciplined."

Um, okay? I nod my head. "As you see fit. Superman's not pretty enough for me anyway."

Prince Jon looks puzzled by that, but after a moment seems to disregard it. Some of the tension leaves the Einherjar and several of them dismiss their weapons, blades evaporating into nothing as they decide that fighting is off the agenda for the moment.

Mister Kent stands aside, motioning towards the doorway with his right hand. "We weren't expecting you to wake up again. If you'll come with me, we can see about getting you your weapons, armor and horses."

"Thank you. For how long were we… Asleep?"

"Three months." Mister Kent and Prince Jon lead the way down the corridor in the general direction of the gardens. Probably the best place to put them for the moment. "Were you aware of anything?"

"I was not." Mister Allen and I follow on behind them, with the rest of the Einherjar forming up behind us. Lars retakes his position in the lead. A sergeant, perhaps? I note that he kept his axe and his shield when the rest let theirs disintegrate. "I was fighting against your son, then I awoke in that chamber."

Mister Kent tenses slightly when Prince Jon refers to Kon as being his son. It's not an unreasonable assumption, given how similar they look and the fact that they use the same 'S' icon. "Do you have any idea why you've woken up now?"

"No, none. It was not like death; we Einherjar have all died before. A few moments of pain, then the body dies and the soul appears before Odin-."

Lars huffs. "A few moments! Some of us had to bleed out over the course of hours! Fucking Christians can't even kill a man properly." That gets a few amused nods from Lars' fellows. "And 'appear before Odin'? We all know you spent days fucking Geirahod before you went anywhere near the All Father's ha-."

Prince Jons turn his head to look at the man. "Silence, churl!" Lars quietens -though he certainly doesn't look cowed- then Jon turns back and carries on as if nothing happened. "When next I see the All Father, I will ask him what happened."

Mister Kent nods. "Do you know where Wolf Krieger is now?"

"Is he not dead, then?"

"Captain Nazi picked him up and flew through the portal you used to come here."

"A man such as that, fleeing into Odin's realm? I doubt he will be warmly received."

"Do you know why Odin offered him your help?"

"Above all things, Odin fears the Giants breaking free and making war upon the Aesir. To prevent this, he seeks knowledge, weapons, all manner of things which can best be obtained from Midgard."

"Krieger's been supplying him?"

"And testing weapons and spells for him."

"But Krieger is a Nazi!"

Prince Jon shrugs. "What does that matter to Odin? Neither the people the Nazis killed nor the Nazis themselves worshipped the Aesir." There's a slight hesitation. "Do your wizards have a way to reopen the portal to Valhalla? Though it would be interesting to see what has become of Denmark in my absence, I have duties to perform."

"Not yet. We thought you were dead permanently so it wasn't a priority." Mister Kent thinks for a moment. "Though I don't mind forcing Krieger to open one for you, if we can find him first."

Turns out that being a magic user doesn't make you immune to telepathy. Not until the very high levels where you start to transubstantiate and aren't so reliant on your organic brain, at least. And even then, I could give him a very strong desire to open a portal.

"Odin has given me no order not to." He nods. "We have an agreement."

"Hey, I was wondering." Mister Allen moves up alongside them in a blur. "If you're invulnerable, how did you manage to die in battle?"

Prince Jon smiles broadly. "Telling you the full saga of my death would take many days. In short, Odin only made me invulnerable to things which he thought could give me an honourable death. His intent was that I should die in shame, failing to win my place in Valhalla and condemned never to see my beloved Geirahod again. So I sought out wizards and foul monsters in the hope that they would have the ability to attack me in some way that Odin had overlooked. Finally, a sorcerer named Thorvald was able with his last breath to freeze me solid, trapping me in ice for I know not how long. Centuries passed until I was freed by a man named Franklin Rock. The world I was now in was strange to me, but a battle is a battle. And Odin had not thought to make me immune to-."

"Translation unclear. Best fit: 'blast clay'."

"Yes, blast clay." Prince Jon nods. "And as I left my mortal body my Valkyrie came for me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
07:56 GMT -5

Kon glances at me, then returns his attention to the fore as we head down the passageway leading to the training room. "Still can't believe you just stumper-rushed me."

I snort, causing Wolf to stare up at me in surprise from her position next to Kon. "Still can't believe you're still going on about that."

A particularly sweet victory in Human Resources last night. Usually, Stumpers are just used as caltrops, slowing enemy melee units as they charge in. But if you get enough of them, you can slow resource gathering units as well. I scouted early, noticed that he didn't have the prerequisites for their natural counter -Fire Vampires- and thought I'd go for it. I ended up reducing the speed of every unit he had to practically nothing, giving me plenty of time to build up my main attack and giving me more shooting time per engagement before his melee units could close the distance.

"Do you think we could have a game later?" M'gann smiles with what must be affected innocence. "Conner's been showing me how it works, but I'm sure there are plenty of things I'm missing."

Not exactly Korean-level myself… "Of course. I'd be delighted."

"What do you think Batman has planned for us today?"

"Maybe that Haraldson guy wants a rematch?" Kon rolls his shoulders. "We can find out exactly how invulnerable Odin made him."

"Kon, he's had centuries of experience with a sword."

He shrugs. "Did okay last time."

"Last time he'd just had an arrow in his eye."

"Do people come back from the dead a lot on Earth?" Kon and I both look at M'gann. "I mean, there were dead people from Hell in Fawcett City, Paul.. went to the Amazon afterlife to talk to some people, now we've got dead Vikings from Valhalla staying in the Watchtower. I don't think that's ever happened on Mars."

Um… "It's been a bit of a statistical anomaly, but there are established ways of communicating with the dead. Isss… There someone you want to talk to?"

"No… I've just been thinking…" She frowns. "What if there is a way on Mars and people just don't know about it? That could be huge."

"It's pretty huge on Earth. People just don't use magic enough-."

Kon suddenly looks at her. "Are you talking about that Burning Martian?"

"Well…"

"Um?"

Kon and M'gann look at each other, then M'gann turns to me. "All Martians are telepathic. I know that we used to be… Like that. We've got spring break coming up and I was planning on visiting home…"

Kon nods sympathetically. "She's been worried someone might pick up on it."

"How big a problem would it be?"

"Finding out that we're a race of brainwashed monsters? Finding out that the divide between White, Green and Red is just how brainwashed we are?" She looks helpless. "I don't know. But it's just a question of how bad. I can't think how anyone finding out could be good at all."

"I.. have to admit, I'd be in favour of releasing the information. Even if it causes short term disruption, I think it would be better for Martians to know their origins. Might do something to overcome the racism if they had the idea that there's basically no difference reinforced."

Kon doesn't look convinced. "That's a bit optimistic. Martians are in telepathic contact with each other all the time, right?" M'gann nods. "Are they, like, empathic? I mean, if one Martian feels something do the other Martians just know, or do they start to feel it too?"

"We're not… If Uncle J'onn was feeling something, that wouldn't make me feel it, but I might just because it's there?" She looks away. "I'm.. probably not explaining it very well."

"Could you keep up a mental barrier, tell everyone that you knew state secrets you weren't allowed to share?"

She doesn't appear to like the idea. "Maybe?"

"…father was an American citizen." Kaldur and Raquel are already here, talking about something while the others watch Wallace trying to take on Beryl at holographic table tennis. Teekl's trying to decide whether to pounce after the ball or not. "But I do not consider the color of my skin to be a significant part of my character." He shrugs. "My mother has blonde hair and fair skin. I grew up in Poseidonis and not in Florida as my father did. Why should I relate to his ethnicity rather than hers?"

"I... Guess."

Kaldur nods. "In Atlantis, the fact that one of my parents was born outside Atlantis would be considered far more significant than his ethnicity."

She looks at him sceptically. "So, what? Atlantis doesn't have racism?"

"The nearest equivalent would be distaste some Purebloods have for people like myself who have-" He tilts his head slightly to the left, drawing attention to his gill slits. "-non Human physical characteristics. However, Orm's Purebloodist supporters were mostly captured after his defeat, and those who remain are wise enough to remain silent about their affiliation."

"But isn't everyone in Atlantis… Ah, altered? Anyway?"

Kaldur smiles faintly. "Now perhaps you understand my confusion regarding surface world racial-"

"Recognised, Batman, zero two."

"-politics." Kaldur looks around to the zeta tube as the holographic game is deactivated, taking the centre point as my team mates and I begin to form up.

Batman stops just in front of us, pausing to briefly look us over. "At eleven thirty Eastern Standard Time the remains of the Einherjar being stored on the Watchtower reanimated." Most of us knew that, but I suppose Beryl or Rob might not have heard yet. "According to our experts-" Oh, did Nabu stop sulking eventually then? "-this almost certainly means that Wolf Krieger-" A group of holographic images of the man appears showing him as he looked back in World War Two as well as more recent images, most notably the one I took of how he looks without a mask these days. "-and his brother Albrect-" Not that any of us could forget what Captain Nazi looks like. "-have returned to Earth."

Kaldur nods. "And what of Klarion?"

"We don't know. Preparations are being made-" By Nabu? Good luck. "-for that eventuality, but since there is no record of them cooperating before we are currently operating on the assumption that they are most likely not still together."

"We're-!" Wallace's mind catches up with his mouth. "Not being sent after him, are we?"

"If we knew their location, it would be a matter for the League. Since we do not, there is an opportunity for the team to act in an information gathering capacity."

"So while Oh El does that in three seconds, what are the rest of us doing?"

"I can't get information a priori, Kid Flash. And I doubt very much that a man of Wolf Krieger's age would have uploaded his itinerary to his LinkedIn account."

"With the help of Marshall Haraldson, we have compiled a list of addresses used by the Kriegers and their associates." A map of the world appears, with… Far too many locations for us to monitor each of them. "Your task will be to monitor them and anyone using them in an attempt to learn either the Kriegers' location or their future plans. Precisely which locations you focus your efforts on and who is assigned to each location is a decision for the team."

Kaldur nods. "We will decide swiftly."

Batman inclines his head slightly. "Should you get a definite lead, contact a member of the Justice League." He tries making eye contact with each of us, but it's a bit hard to make us feel worried about someone we already beat. "One last thing. Since you elected to approve his membership-"

"Recognised, Canis Minor, B one seven, Beton Brut, C zero six."

"-Canis Minor will be joining you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
11:29 GMT -3

"When I persuaded Icon to try being a superhero, this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

Raquel is gamely trying to read through the information folder I had the ring create, but it's kind of hard going if you can't turn off your capacity for boredom.

"What's the problem? It's got secret Nazi magic, decades long international political conspiracies, links between criminal financial assets and modern day political groups... Heck, we ourselves formed an important part of the story at New Year."

"Can we just skip to the part where you explain why we're watching this Helmut Schreiber guy?"

"Did you know that there was a relatively simple piece of magic which can be used to erase a person from any database -written or electronic- anywhere in the world?"

"Nnn-no?"

"An associate of mine by the name of John Constantine uses it to prevent his past catching up with him. But to answer your question, I don't know who Helmut Schreiber is."

She hesitates, then nods. "Which is weird, because you know everything."

"Not everything, but I can check records very quickly. Now, I can tell you how much tax he's paid since he entered full time employment. I can tell you what sort of car he drives. I can tell you where he works and how long he's been there. But the only reason I can tell you where he went to university is because he presented his certificates when he applied for his current job and they made a record of them. The university has officially never heard of him."

"Does it affect his tutors' memories?"

"The version of the spell which I'm familiar with doesn't, but it was years ago and they see a lot of students. The chance of them remembering him is pretty small. I can't tell you who his parents are. I can't tell you his marital status. I can't even scan his house."

"Okay, but Brazil has magicians. What makes you think he's got anything to do with Krieger?"

"Magic isn't just.. magic. You don't.. suddenly know how to do everything under a certain level after you cast your first spell. Power has to be matched by knowledge and the 'bureaucracy erasure spell' comes from late nineteenth century Europe, not from aboriginal American shamanism. I don't even think the Atlanteans know it."

"But a Brazilian could cast it, right?"

"If they learned magic from traditional South American sources… Yes, but it would be difficult. That way of working would be counterintuitive to them. Remember how I flew when I tried using your belt for the first time? Despite having flown by power ring for months?"

She nods. "Yeah, so whoever did this probably had a European teacher."

"A lot of top level Nazis came to South America after World War Two. Including-. "

"The Kriegers."

"No, but several notable ex-Thule Society members did. Brazil -particularly southern Brazil- has a large ethnic German population, and South America at the time had a lot of far right governments. Therefore, the most likely place for this spell to have come from is one of them."

"And you think Wolf Krieger might come here looking for one of his old friends."

"More likely their students, now. It has been sixty years." I shrug. "Or maybe not. I still don't know how he's extended his life this long. It could be the others have done the same and the reason I can't find Helmut Schreiber is that he didn't exist until a decade ago."

Raquel returns her attention to the folder. "So where'd the Kriegers go?"

"Um. The United States, actually."

Her head shoots up again. "No way!"

"Yes way. Wolf used a Swiss passport and he picked up his brother from somewhere a few years later, once America turned its attention towards the Soviet Union. The US got dangerously close to having a blond, blue eyed, patriotically themed superhero in the employ of the federal government on one occasion. If Albrecht had been able to tone down the fascism a bit while in company…" I wiggle my right index finger at the file. "Interested now?"

Head back down. "Bet your ass I am."

I turn my attention back to the monitors we've got set up in the apartment we're renting for this operation. We're getting an image from cameras placed around the edge of the property via Bleed fracture-pulse transmitters. Radio was too much of a risk of detection and wired transmission was out due to impracticality. Bleed transmissions are near unbreakable but they are detectable if you've got the right equipment. The Nazis haven't, as far as I know.

"Oral history, superhero style. It's amazing what you can find out once you get a senior member of the community talking."

"Yeah, I managed to get Icon talking about life as a slave one time. Helped with a.. school project."

"I don't imagine his experience was exactly typical."

"No, but he saw what a typical experience was like. What his foster mother went through."

"Mmm."

Zatanna should be back in a few minutes. She's been taking passive arcane readings of the area, mapping out local etheric currents. Won't necessarily tell us anything… But it might, and it's a good habit to get into. Canis is with her just in case she needs physical protection, though she shouldn't. This is a good part of Brazil. With armed police to look after the tourists and wealthy locals.

I picked Canis for my group because I know most about Apokoliptian culture and so am best placed to smooth over any difficulties he might have. I thought that he might kick up a fuss about leaving Beton Brut behind, but he was actually gratifyingly reasonable about the whole thing. Giant canine war steeds aren't good on stake outs. I suppose it might just be that he's giving us the benefit of the doubt until he has the lay of the land… The Frees must have given him some sort of introduction to Human culture, right?

"Um..? I was.. wondering…"

Raquel doesn't look up. "What?"

"I caught the end of your chat with Kaldur about… Race relations…"

"Yeah?"

"I… Ah… There was a… A television series I used to watch, back on Earth Prime. The white female lead was in a romantic relationship with a black man… But the ethnicities weren't referred to directly in any way. They were just two young people from London who happened to be together. And.. the relationship broke down as the series went on, but again, ethnicity wasn't anything to do with it. I didn't really.. think about it from that point of view, until I read an interview with an American fan who said that that sort of relationship wouldn't be shown on American television. Even now. And… There was an interview with Will Smith in which he said that they made sure that the actress playing his partner in one of his films was black because otherwise that would be a thing. Is that… Actually how it is?"

"Am I the only black person you know?"

"Apart from Kaldur and Philippus? Um…" Oh. "Yes, I.. think so."

"Is that why you're asking me?"

"I'm asking you because you know and care about this sort of stuff. If you don't want to tell me-."

"There was some pretty racist stuff up to the late sixties. After that it just got kinda pathetic. These days you get mixed race relationships on screen without anyone really caring."

"Thanks. Ah, good to know." There's movement on the screen. "Oh, looks like he's coming out." Huh. Now I see him in the flesh, he looks familiar from somewhere. Can't quite.. place him.

Raquel gets up from her chair and comes closer to the screen, staring down at his face. A moment later her eyes widen in shock.

Spoiler: Take a guess before opening this

"Is that Hitler?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
11:34 GMT -3

I tilt my head slightly to the left, more than a little stunned.

"If we… Take an image of Adolf Hitler from the mid-nineteen twenties, shave the toothbrush moustache and give him a better haircut and a bit of a tan…"

Helmut Schreiber smiles at the midmorning sun, then turns into his house and-. Oh my goodness.

"That's not..?"

"Um. They're both wearing wedding rings."

Raquel's mouth is hanging open, her eyes wide. "Is that Adolf Hitler and his black wife?"

"Um."

And then-.

"Is that Adolf Hitler, his black wife and their three children?"

"Well-. Well-. Well. Until they get further away from the house I can't do a genetic analysis, but working backwards from existing genetic records and their physical appearances… Probably? Um. Um. Let me just try and check school records."

"I-. I-. How?"

"He's… He's clearly too young to actually be Adolf Hitler. I mean, he can't be more than forty. Adolf Hitler was born in eighteen eighty nine."

"But-!" She gesticulates at the monitor. "He's here."

"Maybe they just look really similar. I-I-I mean, I don't have a record of Hitler's DNA so I can't really check."

On the monitor, we watch as Adol-. As Helmut Schreiber bends down to pick up his young son, laughing at something his wife says as he does so. The boy -who can't be more than five- pats his cheek and Mister Schreiber jokingly bites at his hand, much to the boy's delight.

What?

Raquel and I turn towards each other, and I'm sure that the expression of complete shocked and horrified bewilderment on her face is mirrored on my own.

Then we lose it.

"Krgrughahahaha!" / "Huhhehhahahahahaha!"

We slump against each other, arms wrapped around each other for support. I'm shaking with laughter, tears running down my face. ThE nAzIs ReSuRrEcTeD hItLeR aNd He'S nOt A nAzI!

"Oh God."

"I know. Uhhehe. Aah."

We pull apart, not quite trusting ourselves to look at each other. Oh mighty Eris, thank you for showing me this particular piece of the universe's underlying insanity.

"You ever… Read… The Boys from Brazil?"

"No, but… I… Always… Thought…" I clear my throat. "Nurture was a… Bigger deal than… Nature. When it comes to behaviour."

"How..? Hhhhow did they even..?"

"I'm… Assuming magic? The Allies didn't bother taking Thule Society members prisoner, they just killed them. But, that meant that they didn't have any leads on the ones who escaped Europe."

"Okay. This… Schreiber guy's gotta be… Forty?"

"So they'd have made him in the seventies. Probably."

"I know cloning Humans is possible, but could they have done it in the seventies? Without magic?"

"Theoretically? Sure. Chinese scientists cloned a carp in the sixties. The theory certainly existed…" I shake my head. "I want to say 'no', but if I'd looked at contemporary science I'd have said that you couldn't build an AI in the nineteen thirties. I.. don't know… How their magic would have affected it?"

On the screen the Schreiber family walk down their garden path towards the family car.

"Um. Okay, I can get scans of them now. Those children are definitely theirs. His telomere length is appropriate for someone of his apparent physical age."

"His.. what?"

"Telomeres are the things on the end of DNA chains that keep them together. They shorten every time the DNA chain replicates. His look like those of someone who's forty, not someone who's a hundred and twenty."

"So?"

"When you clone someone using a tissue sample, their telomeres stay the same length. Adolf Hitler was older than Mister Schreiber is when Wolf Krieger first met him, so it's very unlikely he could have got a tissue sample back then. Even if he could have preserved it well enough for it to still be useable."

"Do you think he… Knows..?"

We both watch as the children are loaded into the car, Mister Schreiber taking the driver's seat.

"I'd… Speculating, but I'd say either 'no' or he learned a long time ago and doesn't care anymore. Let me just-." I watch through the wall as he drives his family past our apartment. Nothing. "I can't see him with my empathic vision. Nothing I can see in the rest of the family suggests that they're anything other than what they appear to be."

"If Wolf Krieger did make him…"

"Why did he let this happen?"

"I mean, if they're in love-"

"Yep."

"-that's great, but I can't see a Nazi like Krieger being okay with the Führer's clone marrying a black woman."

"Wolf Krieger must have known that a clone wouldn't necessarily have shared his progenitor's attitudes. If he wasn't… I don't know, raising him in some sort of Nazi model village, what the heck happened?"

"Schreiber can't be any kind of secret far right leader. Do we even know if Krieger's been here lately? Maybe he just… I don't know, had to go into hiding and then by the time he found Schreiber again… This had happened."

"I don't know. If that was the case, why would there be spells on the house? It doesn't get much more racist than Nazi, there's no way the Kriegers would be okay with this. They must still think there's some value in keeping him safe."

"What do you think that is?"

I slowly shake my head. "I have no idea. Let's see if Zatanna or Canis have better ideas when they get back."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
11:55 GMT -3

"No." / "Who is 'Hitler'?"

Zatanna's reaction mirrors mine and Raquel's, astonishment and confusion. Canis doesn't seem particularly moved one way or another. I shouldn't be too surprised; the Second World War may have been a big part of my education and heritage but I didn't have any reason to assume that Mister and Missus Free would have focused on it rather than more modern things.

I nod to Raquel, who presses a button on our computer and simultaneously plays two video clips. The first, a compendium of clips of Adolf Hitler during the late thirties and early forties. The second, the footage we took of Mister Schreiber. Zatanna's eyes flick back and forth between the two, staring at their faces.

"Okay. They're… Kind of similar, but that doesn't mean-."

I generate a construct of Hitler and another of Mister Schreiber. The latter is very slightly taller, something I ascribe to a better diet. "If we change Mister Schreiber's hair-" It brushes itself to the side. "-and add a moustache…"

She opens and closes her mouth several times without saying anything, blinking as if to see if the mad world she now finds herself in will vanish.

"To answer your question Canis, Adolf Hitler was a rather poor painter and a rather better politician. He ruled Germany from nineteen thirty three to nineteen forty five."

"That is hardly any time at all, and nearly a Human lifetime ago." He thinks for a moment. "Does Krieger fetishise the period? Did he see to this resurrection so as to procure a sexual toy?"

Raquel splutters, then stares at him. "That's the first thing that occurs to you?!"

"It is the reason why Great Darkseid tolerates the existence of Mortalla. I can see little practical value in the act of cloning a man whose claim to significance is so weak."

"Oh, he's significant. The war he started killed millions of people and a lot of those were people just rounded up for being from the wrong race!"

Canis doesn't look impressed. He shrugs. "Millions?"

Hmm. Albrecht was noted as having a bit of a Führer-fixation-. No. No. "That's quite a lot by Earth standards. And Nazis were traditionally rather against same-gender sexual relations."

"Ah. Most likely not that, then."

I put my right hand on Zatanna's left shoulder. "Zatanna? The wards?"

"Oh. Um, they're passive. The ones I could find from the outside, anyway. They're supposed to shield it against detection but they wouldn't actually stop you doing anything."

"Are they recent?"

"They're.. not old. I…" She shakes her head. "They could have been created anytime in the last decade? Maybe two? But they couldn't have been put up yesterday."

"Right. I'm.. going to have a look around inside. Zatanna, I want you and Canis to go and have a chat with Mister Schreiber's boss." I hold out a card with his address and contact number. "He's at home at the moment and nothing in his background sets off any warning signals."

Zatanna takes it from me. "What do you want us to ask him?"

"Schreiber doesn't appear to leave written records. Or, at least none I can detect. We need to talk to someone who knows him. Try and find out… What he's like. I doubt that he's actually a Nazi, but it would be useful to find out if he's in contact with the Kriegers or their allies."

She nods. "What should I tell him when he asks why we want to know?"

"Make sure he knows that we don't suspect Mister Schreiber of anything. Say.. that we think that Mister Schreiber might have inadvertently been in contact with some very unpleasant people and we're worried that he might be targeted by them. Don't be too specific, it wouldn't take much for someone to look up a picture of Hitler and recognise the connection."

Canis' eyes move from Zatanna to me. "And what would you have me do? I dislike acting as a bodyguard when there is little realistic prospect of a fight."

"There's more to our work than direct confrontation. But-" I take a tablet out of subspace. "-this is a record of every example of Hitler's artwork that I've been able to find. There's also a record of every piece of Nazi imagery. It might help you get into their heads a bit better."

He takes it. "Having something the clone created would be better."

"Then ask for something. Mister Schreiber is a professional architect. His employer is bound to have some sort of record." Canis nods. "Anything else?" Neither of them say anything. "Right." I hand her a roll of twenty real notes, four hundred reals worth in total. "I don't think anyone would risk mugging you…"

She peels off five and puts them into her pocket, then holds out the rest. "Edih." The roll disappears.

I nod in approval. "Off you go, then. No hurry, as far as I know."

They nod, Canis taking the lead as they head out.

"When you said you were taking a look inside, you meant we, right?"

"I'm afraid not. There are people around whom I can't scan for. One of us needs to stay here and keep an eye out."

"So why not send me out to talk to Schreiber's boss?"

"Canis couldn't stay here because he doesn't understand Human society well enough. Zatanna goes… Ah, this isn't going to sound like a 'good' reason-"

She crosses her arms. "Uh-huh."

"-but it's renown, basically." Raquel purses her lips and holds out her right hand palm upwards. "If I went to talk to him, he'd almost certainly recognise me as 'The Cake Man'. 'Rocket' isn't well known outside of Dakota City while Zatanna is. At least a bit. Justice League identification can't be forged but it can be faked, and our work would be more difficult if Schrieber's boss just decided that we're just teenagers performing some sort of prank."

"Ahright." She waves her right hand dismissively at me as she turns away to sit in front of the monitor. "Get going. I'll contact you if it looks like anything's happening."

"Thank you. Back shortly." I transition up into the sky and start scanning the house below. I can roughly map it out using infrared and sonic imaging, and outside the warded area… That's probably the burglar alarm. Would they have turned it on if they're just going out for the day? Maybe. I don't know enough about Brazilian society. Crime rates… Probably. Okay, block it and get ready to deactivate the alarm from inside once I rematerialise. Compare the plans of the house to comparable ones… And water pipes… That's probably a toilet. Shouldn't be an alarm in there. Walls around the edge of the property should prevent casual passersby seeing me, cameras are there and there.

Transition.

I appear at ground level inside the wall, then rapidly fly into the area covered by the wards. I end up sitting directly under a camera, underneath its arc. It probably doesn't do more than record, but it may well record to a remote location and the fact that being affixed to the wall allowed it to count as part of the house for the purpose of the wards meant that I couldn't disrupt it in advance. I could do so now, but not doing so is probably a better idea in case Krieger can visit later and pick up on it.

Can I read the house now..? Still no. Okay. I cautiously feed a filament up and through a vent. It passes through without being blocked. Excellent. I continue feeding it through until the far end reaches the downstairs toilet and transition inside.

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
12:00 GMT -3

I sit on the toilet while my filaments run outwards through the house in search of the alarm controls. Can't scan properly but at least the filaments aren't being directly blocked. Hm. Don't think I've ever been in a toilet inside a private residence in South America before. I remember reading with some horror that standard Brazilian practice involves putting used paper in a bin at the side of the toilet, but fortunately Mister Schreiber's house appears to have been plumbed in European fashion. There is a bin, but it clearly doesn't contain excrement-coated paper and the toilet outflow is easily wide enough to accommodate the probable load.

Oh, for goodness sake. How bored am I?

I tap my own Bleed fracture pulse communicator. "Orange Lantern to Rocket."

"You inside?"

"Yep, no problem." I let the images from my filaments filter into my consciousness. "The place looks like a house. No sign of Nazi memorabilia. Decorations… There are a couple of paintings… I think they're landscapes of places in Germany."

"Nazi places?"

"No, not really. Pastoral scenes. I suppose… They're the sort of things a Nazi utopianist might own, but nothing really jumps out at me as saying 'Nazi'." I'm not an expert on Hitler's art, but I did take a look at a few pieces after Lex showed me his. I'm reasonably confident that Hitler didn't paint these. Schreiber might have. I don't know whether or not he shared his predecessor's difficulties.

Ah, there we go.

"I've got the alarm." I stand and open the door into the hallway, taking a magic-sensitive rune stone out of a pouch. "Would you mind checking in with the rest of our team mates?"

"You want me to tell them who we found?"

Hm. "Not.. yet. Just because he's a clone of Adolf Hitler doesn't mean that he's a bad person."

"Yeah, I got that. But we're looking for proof the Kriegers were here, right? Who else would do something like this?"

"Um. Mengele? Someone else from Thule?" I hold the stone out in front of me. Wonder if we can hook one of these up to something that looks like a PKE meter? I mean, these are fine for an actual magic user but I just feel so analogue… "Or any number of nutty super scientists who wanted to be able to say they were the ones who resurrected Hitler."

"Just when you think they couldn't get any lower."

"Lower would be killing him when they realised that they didn't exactly have the Führer on their hands. Or trying to make them relive Hitler's life." The stone is picking up the house's protective spells but there's nothing particularly intense just yet. "He's well adjusted enough to have a family and a job. Whoever did it could have done much worse."

"You think Hitler's well adjusted?"

"I think Helmut Schreiber is well adjusted. Hitler, less so."

There's a pause. "Robin, Tula and Miss Martian say they tracked down Katrina Krieger. No sign of Wolf or Albrecht."

I head towards the stairs. "Are they planning to keep watching her?"

"No, they took her down already."

I frown as I head up to the first floor. "Why? We'd have had a far better chance of learning from her if she was left out in the wild."

"She was testing some new chemical mix on homeless people."

I nod my head to the side. "Let them off, then. They alright?"

"They didn't say anything about getting injured, so probably."

"How about the oth-. Huh."

"What?"

"The floor isn't squeaking. Natural timber, varnished and uncarpeted. The colour scheme and layout just feel… Nice. And the open structure is designed to allow the air to flow around to keep the temperatures down."

"So?"

"I read that Hitler didn't go into architecture because his maths grades weren't high enough."

"You think Schreiber designed the place himself?"

"Probably."

"You think he'll know you where there?"

I look down at the floor. "I'm not leaving footprints, I'm not moving anything, no chemicals on my body can escape my environmental shield, if I go through a door I can put it back exactly how it was… Unless there's some sort of magic architect sense I don't know about I think it should be alright."

"If he got taught by Wolf…"

I push open a door. A child's bedroom. Looks like one of the older girls likes football. "While it's not impossible, the simplest sort of ward would trigger an alert as soon as I -or anyone else- crossed the threshold. Zatanna said that as far as she could tell it was all passive."

"Yeah, but she's fifteen. Krieger's a hundred and thirty."

Nothing in the master bedroom. "But he had to learn from first principles. Zatanna had access to well written textbooks from early childhood." And more since we started working on how to beat Nabu. "Anyway, if Mister Schreiber had spent enough time with him to get that good, he'd have to be pretty dim not to have picked up on Krieger's political affiliations. You can't… Self study enough in the time he's had to get as good as he'd have to be to pull off a ward that subtle."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure." A fringe benefit of trying to work out how skilled Nabu is. His showings against Klarion really have been less good than I was expecting, given how capable he's supposed to be. Can't watch him enough of the time to know whether or not he was just having off-days… "Nothing magic in here. Moving on."

"Superboy's team finished talking to the guys who attacked the Watchtower."

"Get anything new?" I'm guessing 'no'. The Russian President isn't exactly against the far right, but he is very much against Nazis. I'm a little surprised that he didn't just have them all executed, actually. Maybe I've been being unfair to the Russian justice system.

"No, but the Russian police gave them the names of a few people they're watching. They're planning on going to a rally tonight, see if anyone says anything."

It's kind of weak, but he must have some kind of contact in that part of the world. Heh, working with Russians. If only the Führer knew.

"I didn't know he spoke Russian."

"He actually speaks a lot of languages. Did they say what time exactly?"

"No. Why?"

"They're six hours ahead of us, so tonight is any time now."

"Message just said 'tonight'."

"Mm, okay. Nothing upstairs. I'm going to check his office, then plant the stones and head back."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
13:43 GMT -3

"…activist for the Social Democratic Party." Zatanna hesitates for a moment. "I wasn't sure if that was a right wing party or not. I didn't realise until we started talking how little I actually know about Brazil."

I shrug. "They're less right wing than the Republican Party. They're more right wing than Brazil's other main party, but it certainly isn't a warning sign."

She nods. "He joined them right out of college at twenty two and he's been with them since. In twenty oh three he reduced his hours so he could work on a master's degree and he finished that in twenty oh five. Apparently he's quite well known in Brazilian architecture circles."

Raquel glances back from the screen for a moment. "Did they say anything bad about him?"

"Um… He talked around a few things. I don't know if he believed me when I said that we didn't think.. Helmut had done anything." She shrugs. "The worst he said was that he wasn't all that great with people outside of work settings, but then he immediately said he got much better after getting together with Daiane."

"Any mention of anyone who might be the Kriegers?"

"No, but I had to be careful what I said. He's never met Mister Schreiber's parents… Or any family apart from his wife and their kids. And he couldn't remember him ever mentioning them."

"Did he show any signs of having been altered himself?"

She shakes her head. "Not so far as I could tell."

Huh. Okay then. He's been there for seventeen years. If he's a little further along the autistic spectrum than most people it might just not have occurred to him to talk about the rest of his family for that long. Or he might have done and the one person who works with him who Zatanna spoke to just happened not to remember it. "I don't suppose you used a spell to encourage him to answer openly and honestly, did you?"

"No." She looks uncomfortable. "Was.. I.. supposed to?"

"It might have been helpful. Something subtle and short term. Just a mystically enhanced memory jog. But if I'd wanted you to do something like that I should have been clear about it from the offset."

"He's back." The three of us look around to Raquel, who points at the screen as the car pulls in.

Zatanna and I lean in a little closer. Ring? "His wife and their children are still at the park."

Canis snorts, leaning over us. "Are we killing him or not?"

"Not." / "Not." / "We're not killing anyone."

Zatanna blinks, and looks at Raquel and I a little uncomfortably for our briefer answers.

"Why not?"

What explanation would work best for an Apokoliptian? "Canis… What would killing him get us?"

"It would let our ultimate foe know that we are in pursuit, building both his fear and anticipation." "It would give him the opportunity to prepare, creating a greater challenge."

"Unless he's not in contact any longer and doesn't care about what's happening here."

Canis nods. "That is a concern. Perhaps we could simply broadcast our acts? I could display his remains to best advantage."

Raquel blanches. "Are you outta your mind!?"

He just looks slightly puzzled.

"Canis, this isn't Apokolips. We're here to achieve a very limited objective while at the same time not creating difficulty for our superiors. Killing a Brazilian citizen without an exceptionally good reason would create such a difficulty."

He nods. "Because you cannot be sure if someone of significance favours him in ignorance of his true nature. And you do not wish to challenge your elders by assuming a right which belongs to them alone."

…

"Okay. Let's go with that." He nods. Handling him is going to be interesting. He seems willing, but then so was Power Boy and look how well that turned out. "Our mentors want the world run a certain way, and having us kill people at will works against that. The less impact we can have outside our objective, the better."

"On Apokolips, we aim for the greatest impact in victory." His right hand goes to his chin. "But in art… Clarity of communication is more important than intensity."

"You wouldn't just build a giant paint bomb and set if off over a city."

He nods. "I see. Interesting."

Zatanna scoots a little further away from him.

Raquel turns from Canis to me. "So what are we doing about Schreiber?"

I watch as he opens his front door and heads inside. "Two basic options. I think we've concluded as much as we can that he isn't knowingly working with the Kriegers. He's been in cover for too long and too well. So, we either keep watching or we talk to the man directly."

Raquel tries to zoom in on one of the windows. "Some of us have school tomorrow."

Canis nods. "This indolence bores me."

"We could.. give it a few hours..?"

"Not going to get a better time than now. Okay." Who do I take with me? I'm not really expecting to learn much… So it doesn't matter all that much. "Rocket, with me please. Zatanna, Canis, you're on lookout duty."

Raquel stands, stretching out with her hands making a bridge above her head. "Finally."

"Remember Batman's lecture: watch his hands-."

"And his eyes for unconscious tells." She gives me a mildly confrontational stare, as if I was accusing her of sleeping through the lecture. Her not having been there for Major Adams' lecture last year where a couple of our team mates nearly did.

"We'll be coming down vertically into his front garden. If he's watching he'll know we're coming, but the wall will block the view of the people outside. I'll transition us up, then you're under your own power."

"I gaht it, let's go already."

I tag her with a filament and the room's gone, replaced once more by sky and cloud. "Follow me, please."

I dial down my glow and descend, not at anything like full speed or even like terminal velocity. Just fast enough that anyone watching in my general direction might just think they were seeing things. I drop feet first in the direction of the steadily growing garden while a little way behind me Raquel orientates herself towards the ground and heads after me face forwards. I touch down perhaps ten seconds later and watch as she turns her dive into a swoop before getting her feet back under her. We give it a moment but there's no apparent reaction from the house. She looks at me, I nod, and together we walk towards the front door.

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
13:47 GMT -3

"Hitler didn't have super powers, right?"

Since I know she doesn't speak Portuguese, I extend a filament to Raquel. "Not so far as anyone has been able to deduce with any certainty."

"No mass hypnosis or anything?"

"No, just good oratorical technique and the opportunity to use it." I press the doorbell. "From what I understand, he was pretty close to having the Thule Society blacklisted in order to reinforce his conservative Christian credentials. On my homeworld he actually did."

"What was the difference here?"

"This world has magic. Krieger was able to produce observable results, he spoke the right nationalistic, racialistic language. As I understand it, Hitler was never really comfortable either with magic or with relying on one man for their defence against Allied superheroes." I hear footsteps on the far side of the door. "He was rather fond of Captain Nazi, though."

"No surprise there-."

The door opens and Helmut Schreiber blinks at us in surprise.

I smile. "Mister Schreiber. A pleasure to meet you, sir." This close, seeing his desires is easy. It seems that he forgot his camera and returned home to pick it up. None of his other desires seem particularly out of place for a man who is exactly what he seems to be.

He looks me over once more, then spares a moment to do the same to Raquel. "You are the-" Here we go, Cake Man. "-Orange Lantern, yes?"

I nod. "Yes, sir."

He immediately holds out his right hand, a beatific look appearing on his face. "Thank you." I take his hand in my right only for him to grab hold with his left as well. "From the bottom of my heart, thank you. The day on which my children disappeared was the worst in my life." Oh. "If not for young superheroes like yourself I might never have seen them again." Now I'm starting to feel bad for what I'm about to do. "I am certain that my wife would like to speak with you as well. Do you have the time to accompany me to the local park?"

"I'm.. sorry, Mister Schreiber, but I'm afraid that we need to speak with you."

"Oh." He steps back from the door. "Then, come in, please."

I bow my head slightly. "Thank you." Then I walk inside.

"And you, Miss… I recognise you, but I don't remember your name."

"Call me Rocket."

Mister Schreiber ushers her inside before leading the way into his house. "Yes, my eldest daughter has a picture of you on her wall. So many of America's superheroes are white. I was pleased to find one who is a brown girl." I cringe slightly, but I don't think Raquel does. "It is good for them to have more adventurous role models."

"Happy to help."

"Were you involved in fighting that.. devil Klarion as well?"

"No, just.. tried to help out in my home town."

"I am sure they were very grateful. The living room is through here."

I make a point of looking around the room. I was here a little over an hour ago, of course, but if he's got his progenitor's pride he'll like that I'm showing appreciation-. No, he would anyway. I need to not do that.

He gestures to the settee before taking the chair opposite himself. "So… How can I help you?"

"To start with-" I take photographs of Wolf and Albrecht Krieger out of subspace and pass them over to him. No Nazi insignia, just headshots. "-do you recognise either of these men?"

He looks them over carefully, focusing more on Wolf than his younger brother. "No… No, I don't think I do." He passes them back to me. "Should I?"

"Quite possibly not. Mister Schreiber, do you have any interest in the occult?"

"I know the Church says that… Magic is not inherently evil, but… No. I do not like it."

"May I assume that your wife feels the same way?"

He thinks for a moment, then gives his head a small shake. "I don't know. I don't think we've ever talked about it. I have never seen any sign that she is. Why are you asking about that?"

"There are a number of what look like defensive spells placed on this house and on your.. personal history. Normally, during the course of an investigation I can-" I raise my left hand slightly. "-access computer databases to access information. I can't find anything on you."

He looks a little relieved. "That doesn't mean they were disappeared by magic. I love my country, but I'll be the first to admit that our infrastructure is not as reliable as it should be."

"Mister Schreiber, I brought a magic user with me to check. There's some fairly impressive spell work around here."

He frowns, shifting in place uncomfortably. "Do you think it was the builders? Should I call for an exorcist?"

Nothing in his reactions suggests that his response is anything other than completely genuine. "I doubt that anyone who knew enough about magic to do this would be working in conventional construction. And you shouldn't need to have them removed, though if you want to there's no reason not to. Mister Schreiber, may I ask about your parents?"

I didn't see pictures of anyone parental looking with a younger Mister Schreiber when I looked around earlier. If he was placed with a Nazi approved couple…

"I grew up in an orphanage run by the Church. Beyond the fact that they where.. probably ethnic Germans I have no idea who my parents where."

"I'm sorry. I realise that this is uncomfortable, but I need to know."

"Why?" He risks a small smile. "Do I have a relation I have never met who needs a kidney?"

"No. I'm afraid it's worse than that. I have reason to believe that you are a clone, a genetic duplicate of another Human."

He gives a nervous laugh. "That seems a little far-fetched."

"It does, but…" I create a construct. "This is your genetic code. I don't have a copy of the genes of the man I believe you are a clone of, but this is the code of a man named Leo Raubal Junior and this is the code of William Stuart-Houston. Not perfect matches, but close enough to indicate a genetic relationship."

"That's.. interesting, but I am afraid that those names don't mean anything to me. Do they want to meet with me? I have long thought it would be nice for my children to meet my side of the family."

I suppose… He does have living relatives…

"Those particular people are dead, but… There's no particular reason why you couldn't meet up with their descendants." He nods, oddly cheered by the news. "Mister Schreiber, there's no easy way to say this. But I have reason to believe that you are a clone of Adolf Hitler."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
13:52 GMT -3

"I am sorry, I think I misheard you."

"I think you're a clone of Adolf Hitler. These pictures?" I hold them out again. "Albrecht Krieger, better known as Captain Nazi, and his brother Wolf. Wolf Krieger was head of the Thule Society during the Second World War. Together, they dodged the Allies and various Nazi-hunters after the war was over and narrowly escaped the Justice League at the end of last year. According to our information they relocated to Brazil after their attempt to integrate into the United States' right wing community during the sixties failed."

Mister Schreiber is frowning. "That may well be, but it doesn't mean that I am… Him."

"How old are you?"

"Well, ah-. I'm not sure." He shrugs. "Thirty nine. We celebrated my birthday last month."

"Agents working for the Brazilian interior ministry attacked his encampment in nineteen seventy two. It was a little way outside Caçador. Where was it you grew up?"

"Caçador."

"I didn't know that until you told me, but the fight with the Nazis was national news at the time. It should be easy for you to confirm it. Do you know who brought you to the orphanage? There should be a name on the paperwork?"

"No. No. I.. saw the paperwork when I turned eighteen. Sister Maria said that she thought I might have been the son of leftists the police killed. She told me not to look into it."

"Good advice."

"But how do you know that she is wrong?" He stands and starts pacing, hands and arms in constant motion. "I am not a murderer!"

"I know you're not. Mister Schreiber, you're your own man. My closest friend is a clone. I'm talking to you because Wolf Krieger got free recently and I'm worried that-"

"No."

"-he might come looking for you. I'd like to offer you and your family my protection until-"

He stops, looking away from me. "This is..."

"-he's apprehended. We're following up several leads-."

"Get out."

"Mister Schreiber?" I generate a construct image of Adolf Hitler at his age. "I realise that this is a shock, but I don't think-."

He turns, face red and eyes watering. "Get out of my house, you-" He takes in the construct as I have it mirror his body language. "-lunatic! I am not Hitler!" He takes several deep breaths and I can tell that his heart is racing. "I am not!"

"Okay." I stand. "Thank you for your time. If you see either-."

"I'm not Hitler." He jabs his right forefinger at the construct. "I'm not."

I nod as Raquel gets up to follow me. "No." I remove the construct. "We'll show ourselves out."

His eyes drop to the floor and he squeezes them shut for several seconds as I head for the door. "I am not a Nazi."

Ring, what language was he speaking?

He began with German, then switched to Portuguese.

He changed to his first language under stress? Hm. Makes sense. Not sure why he started with German.

Raquel closes the front door behind us. "That coulda gone better. What now?"

"Now, we keep watch and hope nothing else happens. If we're fortunate, one of the other teams will locate the Kriegers and call in the League without troubling Mister Schreiber any further."

She stops, taking hold of my right arm in her left hand. "What are we gonna say about him?"

"I'd suggest… A full verbal report to Batman -in private- and that we leave out the specifics of his heritage in our written report."

"And we're doing that because..?"

"The Justice League are a UN sponsored organisation. If it goes in the written report-."

"That gets passed on to the UN." She thinks for a moment. "But Schreiber hasn't done anything."

"No, but I don't see them leaving him alone. And if word ever got out…"

She seems to agree. "So what do we do now?"

I take a look around the front garden. Looks nice, inasmuch as I'm able to judge. Well looked after. "Check in with the others, then… I suppose it wouldn't hurt to check up on the Caçador site. At the very least we could get Zatanna something she could use as a magic focus." I tap my communicator. "Orange Lantern to Superboy. Any news?"

"He's here. He met up with one of the local leaders. We're following him now."

Raquel and I stare at each other, eyes widening slightly.

"Have you called in the League?"

"The League would take too long to get here and I haven't seen Captain Nazi yet. Until we're sure they're staying here I wanna keep watching."

Loath as I am to say it… "Nabu fought Wolf during the Second World War. He'd probably be willing to teleport a League force in."

"Mom said no one's seen him since yesterday."

Aah. "Okay. I've still got the binding chains I used on-." I cut off as I hear shouting in the background. "Superb-?"

"Call you back!"

The line goes dead.

"At least we know where Wolf is." I tap my communicator again. "Zatanna, Canis, get ready to move-."

"No!"

Mister Schreiber's voice! The heck-?! I'm already moving through the air towards the front door, Raquel a fraction of a second behind me! I bulldoze the door out of its frame and fly inside the house and Mister Schreiber frantically backs out of the living room.

"That the Führer would be reborn in the body-"

I stop, railgun forming and Mageslayers loading.

"-of a coward."

Spell Eater temperature critical.

Wolf Krieger steps out from the living room and taps the butt of his spear on the floor.

"Stop."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
13:56 GMT -3

My body seizes up. Feels a little different to last time.

"And I must deny you your gun."

My construct railgun evaporates. Last time he just had me point it away from him. Can I-? Ring, swap current Spell Eater.

Spell Eater replaced.

Railgun!

Spell Eater temperature critical.

No! Damn it! How much power is he using?

Raquel dives past me, aiming at Wolf Krieger's chest. His eyes widen slightly and he takes a half-step backwards, bringing the Spear of Destiny around into a guard position. "Whenever you are-" Raquel closes the distance and he swings his weapon. The blade misses and the impact of the haft is absorbed by her kinetic belt. "-ready-" She hits and he's knocked back, though nothing like as much as a normal man would have been. "-A-Albrecht!"

"I'mma kick your nasty Nazi-!"

Albrecht shoots through the air from the living room and smashes his right fist down onto the top of Raquel's head. The belt absorbs most of the impact but she still slams into the floor. Wolf grimaces slightly before grabbing Mister Schreiber and roughly shoving him towards me. "Albrecht, kill the negro bitch while I restore the Führer to life. You." He strikes the butt of his spear on the floor again. "Back."

I find myself floating back out of the front door, the clearly terrified Mister Schreiber pushed after me. Albrecht stamps on Raquel's neck as Wolf studies me. "It is strange, you know? Even this close, my arcane senses try to tell me that you are not there. How have you achieved this marvellous thing?" I say nothing. "You may speak."

"W..? Why are you here? Why are you doing this?"

Wolf scowls at Mister Schreiber. "I did not mean you, you failed abortion. Ninety four attempts at creating a genetic duplicate of the Führer and you were the only one who lived."

"Why bother? I've seen portals to hell before. You must be capable of opening one without Mister Schreiber's help."

"Schreiber?" Wolf glances at him. "Is that what you call yourself? No matter. Yes, I could open a portal to hell, but how does that benefit me? How would I find one soul amongst the untold billions contained therein? But here! Here I have a living link to the Führer. A way to bind him to the material plane."

"That doesn't explain why. This isn't nineteen thirties Germany! Adolf Hitler is the most hated man in history! I don't care how charismatic he is, there's no way he'll be able to lead anyone!"

"After seventy years in hell? I doubt that he would be capable of doing so anyway. No, for all his virtues as a leader, I doubt that his mind remains in one piece after the tortures of hell."

"That's a surprisingly rational thing for you to say. Tell you what, just for that I'll give you a five minute head start."

"Ah, if only he had listened to me and abandoned that Christian weakness. But, by bringing back the withered soul of the Führer I can expunge Schreiber's soul. And then, I can use this body as a channel for the earthly ideal of fascism. I can build up a new spirit with what is left of Adolf Hitler at the core! For who better embodies the ideal of fascism than Adolf Hitler? Yes. From these base materials I shall forge a new god for the pure Aryan race! That is why I put up with those Slavic scum. Even they can add to the fuel of my ritual, though I doubt they will benefit much from it."

"And… I'm still alive… Because?"

"You have useful knowledge, and you are of European origin. When my new god is born, perhaps he will have a use for you. Perhaps his divine majesty will convert you. Or perhaps-" He raises the Spear of Destiny slightly. "-he will order me to convert you with the Spear. Or kill you out of hand. Who can say?"

"One of my great grandparents was Rom."

"Oh." He thinks for a moment. "That is not ideal. But… Three generations? It will be for the God-Führer to decide."

"So how come I'm not Nazified already? Green Lantern and The Flash made it clear that the mind control was pretty quick back during World War Two."

"I'm not as young as I was, and I have a smaller area of control to work with. Ah, the spirit of fascism! A marvellous source of strength! You know, I actually wept when the Kaiser abdicated." He shakes his head. "Such a young fool. Now-" He clenches his left hand into a fist, causing Mister Schreiber to rise helplessly into the air. "-hold still while I burn out your miserable little soul, yes?"

"Bastard fascist!"

"Portuguese." Wolf looks like he's swallowed something sour. "Could they not have sent you to a decent German-?"

The front of the house explodes as Albrecht is sent flying through the outer wall and digs a furrow across the grass before stopping in a heap! Brick blasts in all directions and Wolf is forced to duck as chunks of breeze block rain down on him.

"This 'negro bitch' just kicked your brother's ass." Raquel floats out of the hole. "You know what happens if you keep punching someone who absorbs kinetic energy?"

"Albrecht!"

I flex my right hand. Not quite fully under my own control yet, but…

Ring, swap Spell Eater.

Spell Eater replaced.

"You won't live long enough to face the God-Führer's wrath!" Raquel convulses. "Stop breathing."

No time for a railgun. The ring on my left hand shines for a second before the destructive bolt blasts out and strikes Wolf in the chest! "Ghaagh!" Finally he collapses!

"My brother!" Albrecht lunges through the air and punchesGUHHH!

Huh…

Wha..?

No… Wholeness Rightly Assumed!

Spell Eater temperature critical.

"I am not!" I push myself up to see Mister Schreiber stamp on Wolf's right hand as he reaches out to grab the Spear of Destiny from where it fell. "A fucking!" He grabs the Spear himself. "NAZI!" He shoves the Spear downwards blade first, right into Wolf's chest.

Immediately the control effect cuts off. Raquel falls to the floor, gasping for air. I rise, forming railguns and taking aim-

"You killed my brother! I will rip you apart!"

-at Albrecht. I open fire.

"Agh!"

I have no idea whether his power is arcane, metahuman or alchemical.

"Arrraaaaagh!"

So I just hit him with everything. Regular rounds, crumblers and mageslayers. On the off-chance I even use a couple of the angel feather fragment tipped ones John designed.

Normal Justice League rules about using lethal force don't apply to people sentenced to death at Nuremberg. The Germans insisted.

"Grawgwgwgwgwgwgwg…"

His chest thoroughly ruined, I put the barrels of my railguns directly over his eyes and fire once more.

"Witch! Bastard Nazi!" Mister Schreiber pulls the Spear free and stabs Wolf again and again. As I watch, whatever spells held his aging carcass together all this time fail. He doesn't decay completely, but he does take on the appearance of someone slightly mummified, like a climber who died too far up for bacteria to live and who was then dried out by the elements. Mister Schreiber then staggers back, breathing hard, Spear held inexpertly in a two handed grip. "Try taking my soul now!"

I give what's left of Albrecht a moment to see if he's getting back up. One of the possible sources of his power we brainstormed was some sort of improved Danner Formula. Abednego was part of the American eugenics movement and it wasn't impossible that he met Wolf and Albrecht's father… No, looks like he's staying dead. I walk over to Raquel and help her up.

"You alright?" She nods, taking in the bloody scene. "Okay. You get your breath back. I'll call Batman."

 

[Mr Zoat]

10th April
16:14 GMT -5

The elderly man in a grey tweed suit pulls back the cloth covering the bier's occupant. He doesn't flinch, but there is a slight inhalation at the sight of the level of damage done.

"…going on about how he's 'the might of zhe vaterland' and 'zhe embodiment of fascist ideology' and how members of 'zhe lesser races are not fit to lick his boot leather'…"

I glance back at Raquel as she recounts events to Wallace while surreptitiously slipping a rune stone out of my waist pouch. If that was the first time she'd seen a body she seems to be handling it pretty well. The rest of the team stands in huddles of their respective demigroups. No one came back with more than minor injuries and every group except mine has handed someone over to the police.

"…I'm thinking 'you keep stamping and not paying any attention'…"

The man checking the corpses over looks over to our hosts. "I will need to touch..?"

The group -consisting of representatives from the legal, defence and political sections of both the German and Israeli UN missions- exchange a few quiet words, then there's a nodding of heads. The man who appears to be leading the group -the German Deputy Political Director, a man named Klaus Wernholt- nods to the examiner more emphatically. "Whatever you need to do. Make completely certain."

The examiner nods back before returning his attention to the corpse and reaching out with both hands. He makes the lightest contact with his fingertips and then stills himself and closes his eyes. A moment later my stone lights up very slightly. So, maybe a minor wizard, more likely a self taught parapsychic. I suppose I should be impressed that they've got one on staff at all. Or that he's lived to this sort of age. Usually the constant spiritual contact with the world wears them down well before this point.

"…used his own energy to throw him straight through the wall, and I'm all like…"

Batman will want a word or two with us… With me later, but for now he is content with leaving us to clear up the mess we created. Never quite taking my eyes off the examination I shuffle over to where Kaldur stands. His eyes flick to me momentarily as an acknowledgement. "What sort of split do you think is fair?"

Another glance, as if he doesn't want to further disrupt the quiet. "I am not certain what you mean."

"The current bounty on Albrecht Krieger is thirty million euros, and the one on Wolf Krieger is twelve million." He blinks. "Technically, only Kon's team and mine were directly involved, but since it was a whole team activity I think it would be fairest to do an even split on Albrecht's bounty. That's one point eight seven five million euros each, or about two point seven million dollars."

"I had not realised that such a bounty existed."

"Germany put up about half. Israel and Russia paid most of the rest. The Kriegers were the last two significant Second World War era war criminals left in the wild. Between them, they killed thousands of people personally. Far more than that died due to their strategic impact." I give him a moment to process that. "Obviously the cash makes no difference to me, but that sort of thing would pay for a college degree in a good college for our American colleagues. Or a house. Or a period of long term illness."

He doesn't immediately respond. "And what of Wolf?"

"The man who… Finished him, would be due a cut as well. For simplicity's sake it might be better to just give him the whole thing." I hesitate. "I.. don't think telling anyone here who-."

"On that we are in agreement."

The elderly man folds the sheet back over Albrecht before walking over to the bier supporting the mummified remains of Wolf.

"It might be worth asking if M'gann could suppress the memory for him. Not.. erase it, just make it a bit less-."

"It is them." The elderly man carefully wipes drying blood and mucus from his hands with a wet wipe before dropping it into a biological agent bin. "I will confirm that these are indeed the mortal remains of the men known as Wolf and Albrecht Krieger." He looks over to our hosts once more. They're not quite smiling, but there's an air of relief about the gathering. "You have my recommendations for dealing with the remains?"

Mister Wernholt steps forward to shake his hand. "Yes. Thank you for your help."

"Don't make a habit of asking me to do this, Klaus. I do not want what life is left to me blighted by these pictures." The elderly man holds his gaze for a moment before pulling away and heading for the exit.

Mister Wernholt waits until he leaves the room before turning back to his colleagues. "Ladies and gentlemen?" I can hear his accent; he's speaking English. It's really odd when the ring tries to best-fit an English accent to someone speaking a foreign language when I'm used to hearing their speech accented by their own language instead. "Do we accept this testimony, combined with the visual reconstruction provided by Orange Lantern and the verbal testimony of Rocket as a true version of events?"

They nod, some with a simple inclination of the head, others with more enthusiasm.

"Good, thank you." He meets the eyes of the leader of the Israeli delegation. "I imagine that the Chancellor will contact your Prime Minister sometime tomorrow. I will see to the paperwork and the.. remains, myself."

"Thank you." The woman risks a small smile. "Knowing that these men are gone from the world is a relief to all of us."

The Israeli delegation files out, along with most of the other Germans. A couple of medical orderlies move over to start work on the bodies as Mister Wernholt heads over to speak to us.

"On behalf of the Federal Republic of Germany, on behalf of decent Human beings all across the world, I would like to thank all of you for your work today. Now, since you, ah… Many of you have secret identities, we will make a wire transfer of the reward to the Justice League, and.. they can handle it from there."

M'gann looks confused. "Reward?"

I turn my head her way. "Bounty payment. We'll talk about it later." She nods.

"Ah, hey." Raquel briefly raises her right hand and wiggles it a bit. "Captain Nazi was lying, right? He wasn't really the embodiment of fascism or anything."

"He wasn't the embodiment of fascism, but, ah…" He shakes his head. "Oh, it doesn't matter now. He was the embodiment of Germany."

We just sort of stare at him for a few moments.

"Is it that much of a surprise? In America, you have Uncle Sam? During the Second World War he fought as part of the All-Star Squadron?" A few nods, including one from me. Not a character I'd really studied, though I think Alan mentioned him in passing. I think I'd find meeting him in person to be a rather trying thing. Don't think he's active at the moment, which does rather go against his established character. "He is the embodiment of the American character, as it was at the time he came into being. Similarly-."

"Wait a second." Richard holds up his right hand. "You're telling me that the embodiment of Germany is a Nazi superhero?"

"They don't age. If no one kills them they can just keep going." He glances back at the shroud-draped outline of Albrecht Krieger. "When Adolf Hitler came to power, his associates in the Thule Society told him of this. He ordered them to find the embodiment of Germany. Probably, he was hoping they would be a Prussian militarist. We don't know exactly. Instead, he found a man named 'Lucky' Hans, working in a puppet theatre in München. He embodied the German spirit as it was in the seventeenth century, poorly organised, cheerful and happy go lucky."

Richard grimaces. "I'll bet Hitler wasn't too pleased."

"I doubt it very much. So, Wolf Krieger informed his leader of this, but promised to him that it could be fixed. Poor Hans was abducted, ritually murdered and… Albrecht Krieger was the result. Hitler had his Aryan superman. Worse, for we Germans, he had a constant connection to our souls."

Raquel narrows her eyes. "You're not saying, that's the reason why the Holocaust-."

Mister Wernholt holds up his hands. "No, no. Of course not. At that time, there were more than enough people sufficiently devoted to the cause to carry out that genocide without the need for magic intervention. It is only since the end of the Second World War that we have felt the baleful effects. There is a tendency in the Human mind to retroactively justify the things you have done, even when you know that they were wrong. It is a form of ego preservation. If you perform a misdeed you can only become a better person by recognising that and resolving to behave differently in future. Now, imagine if there was someone inside your soul, constantly telling you that you were right all along. That the Nazis were powerful and cool, and not the gang of hateful murderers they actually were."

He shakes his head. "There is a reason why Auschwitz is left as it was and not turned into a memorial park. But we grew accustomed to that. We kept needing to do more! I mean, my God! We had brass plaques with the names of Holocaust victims placed across our major cities in nineteen ninety two! We had to mutilate our psyche as a nation just to keep Albrecht Krieger out of our heads!"

"And… Now you don't?"

"No. I mean, the Holocaust was a great evil, but… Speaking for myself as a man in his thirties? Someone whose parents were born in the fifties? It is a historical one. A black mark on our nation's history, but one which has no personal relevance to me. No more than most Americans feel the need to berate themselves over the Trail of Tears."

Raquel crosses her arms across her chest. "Maybe they should."

"If you look in any nation's history, there are any number of things to be ashamed of. Usually, they do not have to be confronted by them every time they turn on the History Channel." He shakes his head. "Constant shame is not a good way to live. If nothing else, because it distracts from the things you are doing wrong now." He comes to a stop, then steps away and motions to the bodies. "These will be cremated, mixed with silver and calcium oxide, exorcised and then scattered widely in secret locations. Let this finally be the end of it."

 

[Mr Zoat]

11th April
20:03 GMT -2

"What do I think?" Sephtian quivers in place. I still don't entirely understand his body language, but it doesn't look like the good kind of quivering to me. "I think that it is the most terrifying arcane object I have ever seen and I will thank you to take it a very long way away from me."

I lift the Spear of Destiny from the props he was using to keep it in the mana field reader. "I can do that. What exactly is it about it that is so terrifying?"

He actually backs away a little as I move away from the equipment. "So much of how magic works… In the wild, is about conceptual connections. It is why we Atlanteans find it far easier to manipulate water than fire and... It is why it is often necessary to have an object precious to a person in order to use curses on them from a great distance." For a moment he stills. "That is not.. quite true, but it is a lie that is not completely inaccurate."

"Okay?"

"That spear-." The shuddering starts again. "It maintains a weak connection to everyone."

I blink. "Everyone?"

He makes a small cupping gesture with his hands. "As far as we were able to identify. I could not test.. people from other planets. I think it can be shielded against, but.. the normal magic interference which prevents what our forebears described as 'scry and die'-" I don't laugh. "-being a practical technique… It does not apply. I.. must tell you. When I.. realised what it could do… I nearly attempted to destroy it."

I frown. "Hey!"

"I am sorry, but I work under a royal warrant. I have responsibilities to Atlantis, and allowing that thing to continue to exist is.. dangerous."

"Okay, so why didn't you?"

For a moment he just stares at me. "What possible technique could I use that would be safe?"

Oh, sugar. "Exactly how strong is this connection? Wolf Krieger was using it to mind control people."

"A mind control spell that triggers automatically within a particular area? Do you..?" There's a sudden squirt of water from his gill slits. "I doubt that you can understand how complex an undertaking that must have been. From the records you provided to me, it was most likely some kind of ward linked to the nations his people controlled. Such a thing could in theory be set to respond only to individuals who posed a threat above a certain level."

"It didn't just detect superheroes?"

"How would you define 'superhero'?"

"How would you define 'threat'? I mean, I know Harold Thompson was able to operate in Germany for years, but I assume that was just because he didn't have super powers."

"It would probably be possible to set a spell to detect a particular type of power, but in general terms the phrase does not have an arcane meaning. At least, not yet. Threat does."

"The spell got Green Lantern once while he wasn't wearing his ring."

"I… It is possible that I am mistaken. I have been struggling to work out how a man with no knowledge of theoretical thaumaturgy could have created such a work… Without the opportunity to examine the spell it is difficult for me to determine exactly how it functioned."

I nod. "And that wouldn't have been possible without the Spear?"

"Not without using enough power to reshape the world. As you know full well, the soul resists outward attempts to change it. But, that is also true of the unshaped magics of the world. Creating a spell requires a magic user to fortify their work against abrasion by the etheric currents all around it."

"Which is why artefacts never really caught on. They need to be refreshed so often it was easier to just cast the spell."

"Not in all cases, but often, yes."

"The mind control spell isn't inherent in the Spear though, right? I'm not risking taking control of you by holding it?"

"I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"I may well be the foremost expert on thaumaturgy on this planet, Paul. I certainly have the more advanced equipment than any other mortal in position to make such a claim. And I am telling you: I do not think so."

"Oh."

"The spellwork on the Spear of Destiny is like nothing I have ever seen. I deduced its function not by analysing its inner workings but by applying tiny external pressures and observing the output. I do not know what it does in the hands of someone who is.. affected by strange energies as you are. But I can imagine."

I release the spear, letting it float in the water just in front of me. "I could use the Sword of the Fallen on it."

"It might work. Would you risk it?"

"Sugar. Um. Got a suggestion?"

"The Spear seems designed to allow a person to heavily influence the state of the world, the soul of the wielder constantly influencing everyone else in tiny, subtle ways. You could hand it to the most praiseworthy person you know and hope that their influence is a good one. Or you could hide it away and hope that it never comes to light again."

"And this is my choice?"

"I considered trying to make the choice myself. I could not. I know no one so good, and nowhere so remote. You are a good man and you know what you want. It may as well be you as anyone."

Krieger had this for decades and the world didn't convert to fascism. On the other hand, I don't have a world free of his influence to compare it to, other than mine. The population here is smaller… I know that over a large enough population a small change in opinion can have some fairly serious macro level results… Was it all his influence? Okay, anyone would be better than him, but who could I trust like that? Mister Kent would be most people's choice, but I'm well aware of the way he treated Kon. Diana..? I want to think 'yes', but there's the Nabu thing… If I handed it to Alan, would it help him stay alive? I don't know, but I do know that he hates it and wouldn't want anything to do with it. Anyone else? John Co-? No. Heh, no. I mean, I don't think he'd take it anyway, but no.

Do I keep it myself? I know orange light exposure isn't healthy for a lot of people, but I can't help but think that if people got a little more of my-.

No. That's mind control. I'm not prepared to nudge the species like that, particularly when it could go badly wrong.

"I'll try and find somewhere safe to store it, out of anyone's way. Until then it can live in Themyscira's reliquary. That's as well protected as anywhere, and it will be under constant observation."

"I understand that the League has a highly capable magic user? Would it not be worth consulting them?"

"No, because they might ask for it. Nabu is a Lord of Order, and I don't trust him not to squirt order into the rest of us 'for our own good'." Darn, that was heavy. I wasn't expecting that when I came down here. "Were you able to look into Captain Nazi himself?"

"No, but the theory is simple. Using magic to speed the formation of an embodied genius loci? Nothing about that violates the functioning of magic as I understand it. Though I have only guesswork for how I could identify such a being if I encountered one."

"Does Atlantis have one? You use more magic than anyone else."

"And that very fact would prevent one from developing here. We use so much magic that it becomes structured. For an intelligence to emerge there must be pools left to format themselves over large periods of time. Other places? Perhaps. I haven't.. studied the phenomena, but it could well be."

"Thank you." I take hold of the Spear again. "I'll get this out of your way."

"And I will begin work on a way to block it."

 

[Mr Zoat]

A Star Reborn

12th April
07:27 GMT -6

"You… Completely sure-?"

"Eh-heh eh-heh eh-heh."

Miss Shimmer stares up at me through bleary eyes as her coughing fit comes to an end while her right hand fumbles for the tissue box. Nice to see that her hand usage has improved so much.

"Yeth."

Naturally -being a magically transformed Pony- Miss Shimmer had none of the usual immunities and resistances to local diseases most people take for granted. Or at least have injected into them in early childhood. I had just been giving her a daily purification with my ring, but we talked about it and agreed that bringing her immune system up to scratch was a much better solution.

She may be regretting that now.

"Okay. Aaaah. You know where the intercom is. If you need anything, just-." She presses a button on the control pad and the television comes on.

Oh no, it's Spongebob Squarepants.

"I'll leave you to it, then." I leave her room at a quick-march and close the door behind me. Shame, really. I had been hoping to include her in Thursday's lesson… Oh well. Might still be possible, but she really has to be better for Lynne's birthday.

"I take it that the young lady is little better, Mister Grayven?"

I shake my head. "No." I frown. "Can Genomorphs get ill?"

"Yes, but Human diseases have little effect on us."

She.. visibly hesitates. That's odd. "What is it?"

"I have a request." I wave my right arm in a 'continue' gesture. "A personal one, though I imagine that the results would be of interest to all Genomorphs."

"No need to beat around the bush. What do you want?"

"I wish to know of our origins, Mister Grayven. Through Dubbilex's memories I have seen all of the records relating to the development work done to turn our G-Promethean brethren into the other Genomorph strains. What I do not know is how they were developed. Cadmus has no record of it. I thought that perhaps Mister Luthor may be more willing to divulge the pertinent information to you now that you are a member of the Light."

I nod. Interesting question, actually. They're not direct copies of any species that Father Box or Sinestro have ever heard of and creating them whole cloth should be well beyond Human biotechnology. Or… I suppose a malign hypercognitive could, but I doubt that they would stop there. "I am somewhat curious myself. I can't promise that I'll be able to find anything out, but I will certainly ask him."

She bows. "Thank you, Mister Grayven. Miss Wayland is presently attempting to teach herself remote viewing in the 'rumpus room'. Your meeting with Director Williams is scheduled to begin in two minutes at the Centre for Paranormal Studies in Metropolis."

"Thank you, Jean. Father Box, hush tube."

"Ploong."

I step through the portal in the air and into the hardened room we built into the Mountain for full contact superpower combat practice. Lynne sits with a couple of G-Gnomes and a row of blank white cards lying on the floor.

"Square." She turns over the first, revealing a diamond. "Ohh."

"Poppet, time to go. Are you ready?"

"I guess." She sweeps the cards into a pile and hands them to one of the G-Gnomes. "Is this place really going to be my school?"

"Maybe. Depends…" I extend my right hand and take hold of her right hand to help her to her feet. "If the Genomorphs can find a way to safely teach you things telepathically, I'd rather send you somewhere more normal starting in the next school year. Otherwise, this place is.. probably the best place you could go." I lay my huge left hand over her right, sandwiching it between mine. "Now, if you really hate it, I won't insist. But this isn't like the people who tried to teach you things before. This is a charitable foundation run by civilians."

"I… I know." She looks away. "I just… Okay, let's go."

I'll… Just have to hope that she warms up to the idea. "Father Box."

"Ploong."

A new portal opens, and we step through.

12th April
08:30 GMT -5

Hm. Looks a bit like a hospital reception desk, actually. I lead Lynne in the direction of the receptionist. "Good morning. Grayven and Lynne Wayland to see-."

"Hello there!" We look around to see Director Williams walking towards us, waving his left hand and smiling cheerily. He's about three feet tall and completely bald, wearing what must be a custom lab coat with a shirt, blue jumper vest and navy blue bowtie. "I'm Doctor Williams." He walks closer. "And you must be Lynne."

"Hi?"

She appears to not be quite sure what to make of him. He certainly isn't visibly threatening, which is one of the reasons I think this might actually work. I didn't warn her that he was a dwarf, or tell her that he's a telekine himself. That can be something for her to find out on her own recognisance.

"Now, there's no need to feel nervous. For a lot of our students, coming here is the first time they've met anyone who can do the sorts of things that they can. Now-" He turns away and motions for us to follow with his right arm. "-classes don't start for another half an hour, but a lot of the children here live on site. Why don't I introduce you to a few of them while your father and I have a walk around?"

"Um, okay." Lynne starts after him while I bring up the rear. "Why do they live here?"

"We're the only school like this in the entire country. Our students come from all over, and a lot of the time it isn't really practical for them to go home at the end of the day. Or even at the weekends."

Head that one off… "Lynne, you can always call for a hush tube."

"Oh, uh, most of them do, though. It's actually a major limiting factor in the total number of students we have. Some only come for a few weeks each year, but for the full time students, they either have to be local or… Well, their abilities are so overt that they need our help in learning to control them."

Normal parent question next. "What sort of class sizes do you have?"

"Class sizes for our normal education program range from eight to twelve children, but when it comes to teaching the children to use their paranormal abilities we use much smaller groups. A lot of the time teaching is one to one, so the student's development can be precisely monitored. There's a lot we don't know about how these abilities work, so we put a great deal of emphasis on safety, both for the children and the staff."

Lynne nods. "Do you have..? Other telepaths?"

"Several students have different forms of extra sensory perception. If you mean 'can they speak to each other mind to mind', there are a couple of other children who can do things like that." He smiles up at her. "Would you like to meet them?"

"No." She shakes her head, stopping dead in the corridor. "No. I shouldn't go anywhere near them. If they.. touch my mind by mistake…"

"Ah, yes." He glances at me, then returns his attention to her. "Mister Grayven did.. mention the tragic incident with your parents. But don't worry, everyone here knows not to poke into other people's minds without permission."

"She does have a point, Director. I wouldn't want to needlessly endanger anyone."

"Hm. Ahhh… Ah!" He sets off again with a spring in his step and we follow. "Since not all of our students are capable of conventional telepathy, it wouldn't really be hard to put you in a class where no one else was. At least until your control is good enough that it isn't a problem any more." He knocks on a door, waits for a moment and then pushes it open.

"Hey Doc."

"Good morning, Claire. We've got a visitor. Would you mind looking after her for a little while?"

"Sure. Why not?" The Director steps back as a teenaged girl with astonishingly long and flame-orange hair comes out after him. I get a momentary frown before she turns her attention on Lynne. "Hey."

"Hello?"

"So what are you in for?"

"I'm a telepath. I can turn off people's brains." She pauses, not quite sure where to go from there. "What do you do?"

"I burn stuff." Claire holds up her right hand and it's momentarily enveloped in flame. "Wanna come meet everyone?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th April
08:46 GMT -5

"…have had children come to us in difficult circumstances before, but…" Doctor Williams shakes his head sadly. "Nothing on a level with what Lynne's been through."

I nod. I hadn't expected that they would. Huh, I hoped they wouldn't. I like to believe that what Lynne went through couldn't happen here, not without me knowing about it. That's one of the reasons I've been spending quite a bit of time mapping out the extent of SHADE 16's influence. And why one of the first things I'm going to raise with the Light is the idea of doing away with the opposition: thinking and planning type supervillains. It takes a very particular type of person to organise that much misery.

"That's why I want to ease her into a school setting gradually, rather than having her start attending immediately."

I've had to be subtle about it. Don't know for certain that we even have a Father Time. As far as I can tell, our version of the organisation grew out of the support structure for the All-Star Squadron. At the end of the war all but a handful of the 'talent' left, but they were still in control of some very dangerous individuals and plenty of baseline Humans with very specialist expertise. Like the Marine Corps, despite the fact that they didn't have an obvious purpose any longer they never quite got absorbed by any of the other agencies looking to expand their remit. The laws which let them create federal agents are still on the books but they don't appear to get any federal funding. Instead, they survive by 'renting' their expertise out to other agencies, though I'm sure there are plenty of off the books revenue streams I haven't found yet.

We step through the door to his office and he walks around his desk and climbs up into his chair as I take the seat opposite. His is a plush… High chair, complete with wooden steps to allow him to get to the seat. It looks a little… Infantilising, but I can't think of a better alternative for him. Assuming that he can't autolevitate.

"That's probably for the best." He looks uncomfortable for a moment. "I'll be honest, Mister Grayven: I'm not.. completely certain we can give Lynne what she needs. The children here have a wide variety of mental abilities, but only a few are classical telepaths. Take me for example." He raises his right hand and a short stack of papers rise out of his in-tray and floats over to him. "I can lift small objects and I can apply sudden bursts of force to larger ones. And I've got-" He waves his right arm at his computer. "-scans of what's happening in my brain when I do it. But we're still a very long way from understanding the biological basis of what I can do. And what I do is relatively simple to quantify."

"And telepathy isn't."

"When we first started, I assumed that psychic phenomena would be the result of a single oddity in some people's brains. Enough people had similar sets of abilities that it seemed like a reasonable hypothesis. I have what looks like a-" He taps the back of his head with his right fore and index fingers. "-small growth attached to my cerebellum. It's stayed the same size for as long as I've been checking up on it so I know it isn't cancerous. That, and the fact it lights up whenever I use my abilities. Most of the other people here who can move things with their mind have something very similar. Then…" He fans out his hands. "Others don't. And I can't explain why."

"Have you eliminated the possibility of magic use?"

He shakes his head helplessly. "I wouldn't know where to start. For the most part I assume that they're non-psychic metahumans whose abilities have a different basis. Teaching them… We'd had success with the same methods, so it doesn't make much difference where the children are concerned."

"I could… Probably… Get my hands on a few magic users. If you.. wanted to examine it from that side."

"Ahh." He looks away, right hand briefly covering his mouth and then stroking his chin as he thinks about it. "I'm.. not certain that our trustees would… Understand…"

"Do you know the difference between a parapsychic and a telepath?"

"Of course. A telepath can connect to other peoples' minds. A parapsychic can usually do that, but they can also read… Impressions from inanimate objects."

"That's the definition. But the important difference?"

He frowns slightly. "There are several, but..? Telepaths often have altered amygdala function while parapsychics usually don't? I've never been able to come up with an adequate explanation for how it's possible to get a mental impression from a thing without a mind-."

"Parapsychics use magic."

His face relaxes and his eyes dip as he takes that on board. "You're sure?"

"I'm not a magic user myself, but the descriptions of the ability in your literature match and the handful I've been able to examine directly do. One of the problems with the way you study now is that you can't eliminate such possibilities."

"That… Would explain… But that means…" He focuses his attention on me. "When you say that you can get a magic user..?"

"An… Associate of mine is looking to form a connection to a surface world institution. Test the water, as it were."

"Someone from Atlantis?" I nod. "I…" He breathes in and out again. "That could be very helpful. I'm just a little worried about how the oversight committee will feel about it." He sighs. "Despite our results, it's sometimes a struggle to persuade them that it's worth investing in psychic phenomena. Magic research… Are you aware of just how many Americans believe that magic is inherently evil? Particularly after Klarion-." He suddenly remembers who he's talking to. "Ah."

I smile. "Doctor Williams, I am fully aware of that. And I am fully aware of the Human propensity for burying their heads in the sand. But pretending it will go away if it's ignored hard enough is stupid. It may amuse you to know this, but are you aware that your school is the most advanced centre of magic research in America?"

"Really?" He frowns. "But we.. don't study.. magic. Not intentionally, anyway."

I nod. "Yes. That's how bad things are." I pause to let that sink in. "I think my connections in the US government will allow me to talk people around to expanding your remit. Even the.. Protestant right.. are aware of just how vulnerable America is. I'm perfectly happy to act as your political cheerleader."

I still believe that Jade only got me that costume because she didn't credit the idea that I'd actually wear it.

"Oh. Thank you. But the funding we get from the federal government only comes to us indirectly. And we can't go without money for the time it would take them to pass an appropriations bill."

Which leads me nicely on to the other reason I'm here. Places like this were amongst the first absorbed by SHADE 50 when they ballooned after the fall of the Justice Lords. The work they do is too valuable to me personally and to humanity more generally to let it become some sort of.. stupid paramilitary training centre. Keeping tabs on this place helps steer the country away from that, as well as giving me something I can point to when the rest of the Light ask what I've done for humanity recently.

"I was thinking of making a donation myself, as a thank you for helping my daughter."

"I'm sure that we're grateful for anything you can contribute, but the amount-."

"Two hundred million dollars."

His eyes widen. "Oh…"

"Obviously, that would go to a trust. And there would be conditions."

"Such as..?"

"That you don't accept money from the military or other security agencies. I'm all for defence spending, but your students are children."

"Yes, well, that shouldn't be a problem." Something occurs to him. "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"I'm a little surprised that a man in your position doesn't have other options when it comes to this sort of thing. I know that there are telepathic superheroes out there."

"Yes, I did consider seeing if Henry King could make time for me. Thing is, for all his skill he doesn't have an understanding of the underlying mechanics of his ability. Lynne doesn't need to learn how to be more telepathic, she needs to learn control." And to be taken slightly -but not greatly- out of her comfort zone. "And there's the same problem with recruiting a Martian; their brains handle things differently. Humans aren't anything like as plastic, they can't adapt to feedback as quickly."

"I assume that your own people don't have anything similar?"

"Most of what we do is a sort of.. innate magic. Those amongst us who learn to manipulate that in clever ways end up more like sorcerers rather than telepaths." Thank goodness. Dread to think what Apokolips would be like with living Anti-Life broadcasters. "And to be honest my people are pretty unpleasant. I'd rather not dip into that well if I can avoid it."

 

[Mr Zoat]

12th April
15:43 GMT -6

"OOOOphF!"

Guy goes flying backwards, slamming into the rocky ground below us as Jordan moves his hammer construct back into the guard position. We spend a moment watching Guy unsteadily pull himself out of the resulting crater as the people in the stands cheer.

"Heh." Jordan doesn't quite take his eyes off his fallen sparring partner, but he does glance my way. "Guess I don't need this as much as you thought."

I frown. "Sorry, he's… Usually a lot better than this." I cup my right hand against my mouth. "Guy, you alright?!" He waves me off with his right hand, before shaking his head to try and clear out the cobwebs. Or perhaps to chase away the circling birds.

"Maybe you're not as good as you think either." He smirks. "I mean, if that's the best you've ever sparred against…"

"Bet you a power ring?"

The hammer dissipates. "Hey, I'm just saying-."

"Guy." The man in question gives his head one last shake before looking up at me. "Jammer and countdown."

Jordan hasn't come remotely close to mastering short range FTL hops so there's not really much point practising with them beyond what I need to in order to emphasise that he really needs to. And I'll freely admit, my skill in purely construct combat is a little below par. I mean, if I can't do better than a flipping boxing glove, that's just embarrassing.

A glowing green set of grid lights appears in the air above us, horns honking as the first set of lights shine a dull green. Jordan and I switch our attention to totally focusing on one another. Another horn blast and the second set of lights come on. Immediately I generate construct armour while Jordan flies backwards to maximise the distance between us. A third horn blast and I fly towards Jordan at high speed while he swings his right arm in a punching motion and generates a swarm of boxing glove constructs, grinning confidently as he sends them at me.

Flak gun constructs appear on my shoulders and bolts of orange energy meet and disintegrate each one. A simple scan shows him generating a baseball bat construct while my vision is obscured… He's actually holding it in his hands. Numpty. I send thin filaments out from me in all directions, reaching out for any green light they might encounter.

He swings just as my guns destroy the last boxing glove. To be fair to him, at least he tried to conceal what he was doing. I'm only going to have half a second to respond before I join Guy in eating desert.

Half a real second.

Time slows as the bat brushes my filament fronds and I focus on making the bat construct mine. They latch on and it begins changing colour. I increase the amount of glow that my construct armour is putting out, in the hope that doing so will prevent him from reacting for a fraction of a second longer. The flak gun on my right shoulder changes into a laser and fires a twin shot at his eyes as a further distraction even as I jink around the bat I'm already more in control of than he is.

Then I have the bat extend its bindings around his hands and start swinging him around the sky.

His environmental shield should prevent him feeling dizzy, but from personal experience I know that it's still quite a disorientating process. He keeps his head in the game and forms a knife construct to try cutting through his own usurped bat. He'll be through in a moment, so I generate a construct boxing glove of my own and spin him in my direction before dissipating the bat. He gets a half-second of staring in shock before the construct leather meets his forehead.

A stunning blow, but thanks to his environmental shield not a knockout one. Filaments latch on and begin usurping his environmental shield while yanking him hither and thither. A simple impact pulse to the usurped patch over his abdomen has him doubling over, air rushing from his lungs. Again, he doesn't exactly need to breathe, but Human instinctive responses work in a certain way. I use his distraction to generate a large and very solid snake construct directly above him and bring it down fast!

"Alert! Incoming-."

He gets just enough warning to look upwards before it slams into him snout first and conveys him into the ground at speed, sending a plume of grit and dusts upwards and earning me a cheer from the crowd.

"Aaaaaand winnerrrrr!" Guy gives me a respectful nod as he floats closer. "That wasn't.. actually the big snake though, right?"

"Of course not. Her head's narrower than that."

"Good t'know."

I remove the snake construct to allow Jordan to check himself for injuries. "You seemed.. kind of out of the game today."

"Ye-ah." Guy looks more embarrassed than anything. "Haven't been sleepin' too good lately. Head's like it's fulla cotton wool. Dunno why. I'd blame Tora-"

"Please don't."

"-but it ain't that."

"If you're actually ill…"

He shakes his head and Jordan flies towards us. "Nah, I'll just… Take some Tylerol and have an early night."

"Okay, well, I need to go and pick up Zatanna-" Guy snorts. "-so since you're not exactly fighting fit we should-."

Jordan's ring flashes, and his face takes on a vacant expression for a moment. "Sorry guys. Duty calls." He rockets upwards towards the edge of the atmosphere.

I shrug. "Okay, well, take it easy, Guy. I'll see you Saturday."

"Yeah." I can see how much he dislikes having made a poor showing against Jordan. "You too."

12th April
16:47 GMT -5

I appear in front of Shadowcrest. No need to go for low impact here, this is known superhero territory. Zatanna smiles up at me, still in her school uniform. "Ready to go?"

She nods excitedly. "Oh yeah." She takes hold of the poster tube concealing the Sapphire Staff… Not a great name, but it'll do for now.

"Do you want to try flying up there yourself or-."

"No. Maybe… When we're finished? If there's time?"

"Rightyoh. Stand by." A flicker, and New York is replaced by the Mars-Jupiter asteroid belt.

"Nepo." The cardboard outer spirals open and reveals the glowing staff within. Zatanna takes a firm grip and.. her uniform subtly alters. Nothing… Inappropriate… Quite. Though I imagine that someone would have a word if she tried wearing it at school. A moment's hesitation, then the violet aura flows over her and I remove my own tether.

Sephtian was more than happy to work on the design for a magic battery. He was even willing to devise a version which took full advantage of orichalcum's greater enchantability, though I didn't ask him to make one. No sense implicating him. No sense implicating Io either, which is why Zatanna has spent some time on Themyscira watching her work.

"Dlog dna reppoc ot muclahciro."

I watch as the metal begins to transmute and our storage vessel begins to take shape. Not exactly energy efficient, doing it like this. But it does preserve the secret, and that's the more important thing.

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th April
10:07 GMT +2

"Good morning, Falil."

Adom's harried-looking Principal Personal Secretary looks around from his discussion as I walk down the corridor towards him. "Orange Lantern. Good to see you."

"Falil, why are there severed heads on poles outside the palace?"

"Ah. Yyes, his Excellency wished to talk to you about that."

"Goood. Is he free now?"

Falil looks distinctly nervous for a moment. "Ah… Possibly. I will check for you. Would you please wait here?"

"Of course."

He walks off in the direction of Adom's new office. Having thoroughly.. liquidated the previous government, one of Adom's first acts was to pass a law authorising the seizure of their assets. It wasn't particularly hard to prove rampant corruption and other forms of.. barbarity. The Swiss banks they used were reluctant to comply with the confiscation order, but fortunately I have a power ring. Adom didn't want to move the centre of his government to Cairo so that part of the reclaimed money which didn't obviously belong to someone else is being put towards the construction of a new government building. Some of the more hostile media pundits have taken to describing it as a palace, but in fact it will be no more a palace than the White House is. When finished it will very much be a working office building. But for the moment the Kahndaqi provisional government is operating out of another hotel.

Adom already has the approval of his neighbours and the tolerance of the United States. The UN Security Council has removed a few sanctions and discussion on the rest is being held off until the ratification of the new Kahndaqi Constitution. I know several European countries-

"…primary education, like they do in…"

-have… I frown and look in the direction of Adom's office. Female voice, clearly very angry. I only got a burst of what she said while Falil had the door open. Might get another burst when Adom throws her out of the window, I suppose. What sort of person thinks that berating a demigod is a sensible thing to do? Adom responds fairly well to reason; vitriol like that just annoys him.

"Uh, Orange Lantern sir?"

"Hm?" I look around as one of the other civil servants nervously holds up his phone.

"Would you mind if-?"

Heh. I shake my head. "No problem."

He grins, then turns around while holding his phone out. Despite spending far more time in the United States than I do here, Kahndaqi people identify with me far more than most Americans. Hardly anyone called me the Cake Man, particularly after last month. He leans backwards until his back touches my chestplate and then presses the button to take a picture. Selfies aren't something I've ever got into, but given that this man's predecessors were probably killed by a giant alien robot I tend to feel that I should make an effort.

"…excuse not to…"

Falil closes the door as quickly as he can as my latest admirer checks his picture. Apparently he likes it. He smiles at me -"Thanks!"- then spots his boss heading our way and hurries back to whatever he was doing before.

Falil approaches with an air of discomfort. "His Excellency will see you now."

"Thank you, but what.. was.. that..?"

Falil closes his eyes and sighs. "That.. is.. one of the things he wishes to speak to you about." He opens his eyes again. "It is probably best that he explain himself."

"Okay? Should I just..? Go in?"

He nods distractedly. "Yes. Please.. excuse me. The deputation from Qena have raised some sort of problem with the veto procedures, and-."

"You're a very busy man, I understand. Keep up the good work."

He nods and turns to walk away, giving me a very brief flicker of a very small smile. Kahndaq… I'm constantly worried that the country is going the way of Iraq Prime, a universally hated dictator being overthrown leading to chaos as different armed groups try to establish control. Kahndaq at least had the advantage of leaving most of the government structure in place.

Those still occupying positions of authority after Adom killed the old government took the hint and left, without the need to spend the next decade running trials. Lower level types are being allowed to keep their heads down as long as they stay away from the offices of state. The only comparable situation I'm aware of is when the Russian oligarchs got the deal from Putin that he wouldn't look into how they acquired state assets so cheaply in the post-communist fire sale as long as they stayed away from politics, and I know that didn't work. But those left here aren't anything like as powerful and they're surrounded by a country that hates them. Adom's amnesty and personal popularity might be the only thing keeping a lot of them safe from a mob right now.

I push the-

"…accepted limited authority because that is the way things are done now."

-door open-

"You are making excuses. You could do anything with Kahndaq, and you know-"

-and the first thing I see is a woman five and a half feet tall staring Adom down, despite the fact that he's above her, being both taller than her and slightly off the ground. Adom's abandoned his dispassionate arms crossed pose and is currently winning in the battle to keep his temper under control. Just about.

"-that!"

"Excuse me?"

Both their heads snap in my direction, the woman's eyes narrowing slightly while Adom actually.. looks.. relieved? "Orange Lantern." He floats upwards a little, arms folding in front of his as his body posture relaxes. "Miss Tomaz was just leaving."

And she snaps back to him, right index finger extended. "This is not over." She extends her glare for a few seconds, then turns and walks past me through the door. And slams it closed behind her.

"Um."

Adom doesn't groan. I can feel him not groaning. "The heads belong to a deputation from a criminal syndicate which had dealings with the former president. They wished to continue that relationship with me. I turned them down."

"Did they give you a name?"

"Yes. Intergang."

I nod. "They're a 'known'. Shouldn't be too hard for me to do damage control. Um..?" I point after Miss Tomazzzzzz. Tomaz. As in 'Amon Tomaz'. As in the woman who becomes Isis. That's… Interesting. "May I ask..?"

"Intergang is engaged in 'people trading'. Slavery. They offered her to me as a gift." He takes a deep breath. "And she has seen fit to remain despite the fact that I have freed her."

"Why?"

"Intergang's allies still within Kahndaq have her brother. I told her that I would hunt them down and free him once the country is stable. Perhaps she has remained to remind me of my promise. Perhaps not. Whatever her reason, she spends her time berating me over every aspect of my conduct which does not meet with her approval."

"May I ask why she is allowed to do that?"

"She is not… Always, entirely incorrect in her statements. All too many of my advisors are reluctant to gainsay me in even the smallest way. She is… By and large, helping." He grimaces. "I merely wish that she would choose a less infuriating manner in which to do so!"

"She hasn't known you long, Mighty One. I'm sure that you'll grow into each other. And I don't need to remind you of the value of honest counsellors."

"Hah! True. In my first life, only my wife would defy me so openly. Her latest complaint is that I am not ensuring that each governate will offer equal educational opportunities to boy and girl children. As I told her, that authority is devolved, and I will not undermine those who make such decisions by… Giving with one hand, and taking with another."

"About that, Mighty One. When you said during your last interview that you were considering restricting voting to the heads of each household..?"

"Yes, I.. heard." 'Ancient Pharaoh Denies Women Vote' was not a headline I expected to have to deal with. "I apologise for any difficulty it caused you. I was not trying to disenfranchise women. It had not even occurred to me that their menfolk might vote without reference to their wives. It was off the cuff, and the idea was that they would vote on behalf of the whole household. If it had become law younger men would not have been able to vote for themselves either."

"Can I assume..?"

"It will not become policy. It was a misstep. One which Miss Tomaz has already lectured me on." Another sigh. "At length."

"Glad to hear it. So, I'm at Kahndaq's disposal for the rest of the day. What do you want me working on?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

14th April
20:33 GMT +3

Miss Shimmer blows her nose loudly, then wads the tissue up into a ball. She holds it up, staring down her still red nose at it. After a few seconds thin wisps of smoke begin rising from the top, and for a split second I think I see a smile on her lips. Then she notices that I'm watching and returns to dourness, flames consuming her tissue as she tosses it over the side of the construct platform she's standing on.

Then Miss Amane grabs her, wrapping her arms around the other girl with an expression of purest joy on her face. "You can use magic again! I'm so happy for you!"

Miss Shimmer holds her arms out to the sides as if she's not entirely sure what to do with them. "What did she say?"

Miss Amane pulls back. "You." She prods Miss Shimmer in the abdomen with her right forefinger. "Can use magic." She holds up hands and wiggles her fingers. Then she grins. "Again."

Miss Shimmer's command of English has advanced a great deal since she learned a short Atlantean ritual for memorising data tables. Unlike me, she understands the formal rules of grammar well enough to actually use it.

"Okay, thanks, but… Slower, okay? Just not as slow as that."

Miss Amane places her hands on the sides of Miss Shimmer's shoulders. "I Will Speak At Normal Speed."

Miss Shimmer sets her jaw, then places her own hands on Miss Amane's upper arms. "Thank You."

"You don't need to talk slowly for-." Miss Amane realises what she did, then bites her lower lip for a second before beaming again. "Okay!"

"Besides, it's not much magic. It's just so hard to form an etheric connection without a horn!"

"Um." Lynne looks a little self conscious when the two older girls turn their attention on her. "You, um. You neighed the last bit."

"Ugh." Miss Shimmer sags slightly, then focuses her ire on me, "Why are we here? Where is 'here', anyway?"

"To answer your second question, we are about eight thousand metres above a place called Darfur. To answer your first, we are here for a lesson."

She rolls her eyes. "Great."

"I'm glad you approve. Today's lesson is about moral theory, in particular-."

"Is it about friendship?"

"Only tangentially. Rather, I-."

"Is this going to be a lecture?"

"I will deliver a short lecture, then you will-" I make a horizontal circle with my right index finger. "-discuss the matter between yourselves before acting on the decision you make. Then you will observe the consequences of your actions and compare them to what it was that you were trying to achieve." I lean slightly towards Miss Shimmer. "And most likely try to work out where you went wrong."

"Oh." She seems unfazed. "Field work. Okay. That could be fun. I thought this was going to be another one of P-p… Celestia's pointless lectures."

"Take that, sun horse." I straighten up. "Now-."

"Sun horse?" Miss Amane looks at Miss Shimmer in puzzlement for a moment, then her eyes widen and she looks back at me with her hands over her mouth.

"Princess Celestia is planet Wilson's-" Miss Shimmer snorts. "-sun goddess. Or possibly demigoddess." It really wasn't clear from the cartoon how powerful she was. The beam of war with Chrysalis suggested 'not very' but I'm not about to treat an animation in which none of the characters have genitals or arseholes as entirely reliable. "She was also Miss Shimmer's teacher before they parted on bad terms." Oh, what's the line again? "I'm perfectly happy to answer questions, but please try to keep them to the end of the class."

She nods. I'm glad that Miss Amane isn't some sort of mindlessly obedient death puppy, but I… Probably should have thought through what I was going to do with her a little better than I did. At least she's replaced that nice looking but impractical Apokolips tech scythe with an Apokolips tech war scythe. I didn't want to instruct her in her choice of weapon because she would have obeyed without question, but when I showed her a few variants that she might 'find more practical in some circumstances' she jumped at it right away.

"Miss Shimmer. When is it appropriate to use force to compel another to your way of behaving?"

"Um?" Her pupils dart to the side as she tries to work out what sort of answer I want. "Never?"

"No, don't be daft. Do I look like Celestia? What's your real answer?"

She rolls her eyes. "Why does it matter?"

"I'm helping you become a goddess. I'd like to think that you'll be able to use that power responsibly. Well?"

This time she actually thinks about it. "When they'll hurt themselves worse if you don't?"

"Okay." I create a construct blackboard… Huh. Yellow on yellow. That's not going to work. I dismiss the construct blackboard and take a holoprojector out of subspace, writing 'WHEN THEY'LL HURT THEMSELVES WORSE OTHERWISE' in the top left. "Iname?"

As ever, she brightens slightly at the use of her 'superhero name'. She also doesn't hesitate to answer. "When they're bad people."

I nod. An expected answer. I write it in the top right. Those are the two main categories I want to focus on, but… "Lynne?"

"When they'll.. be.. better if you.. do..?"

I write 'THEIR OWN BETTERMENT' in the middle.

"Alright, that should get us started. Miss Shimmer, how badly would someone have to be about to hurt themselves before you would step in?"

A mild frown. "Well… As long as they get hurt less than they would have done… That's okay, isn't it?"

I raise my right hand, ring pointed towards her. "So I should purge you of your current viral infect-?"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" Her eyes figuratively blaze with indignation.

I nod, making a circling motion with both hands. "So..?"

Her eyes widen slightly as she realises what I mean. "Sometimes people get hurt for their own good."

"That's one way to put it." I add 'HOW MUCH HARM' under her suggestion. "Keep going."

"Aaaaaaaah… They'd have to be getting seriously hurt? Something they couldn't get better from?"

"What if you're not sure whether they will or not?"

Miss Shimmer's face appears to shut down as she's forced to actually think about some of the things Celestia tried to teach her. Guess who actually was paying attention all those times you ranted about her? "The.. risks of intervention have to be offset against the risks of inaction?"

I blow her a raspberry.

"Whaaaaaaat?"

"Of course they do. What you need to know in your own mind is 'how much risk'. 'How much injury'." I add those to the hologram. "And you should have a pretty firm idea of where you think the 'intervention point' is before you put yourself into a position where you might be expected to intervene. Which you will in a couple of hours."

"We will?"

"Iname. How bad does a person have to be?"

She hesitates, though in her case she's trying to work out what answer I want because in her mind that is the right answer, rather than because she thinks that the question is stupid. "You can only do as much harm as they would do."

I write 'EYE FOR AN EYE' on the board. "Alright, but do you mean to them, or in total?"

"I.. don't think I understand."

"Let us take the example of a murderer. According to the principle you stated, killing them would be correct. But what if they've got a dependant who requires them to live in order to survive themselves? Or if they have some vital job lots of other people rely on? You would be harming lots of other people when you killed them."

"Grayven?" Lynne raises her right hand. "Why are we having this lesson over Darfur, rather than somewhere else?"

"Because there's a rather nasty war going on down there. And once the three of you have decided on your moral beliefs, you're going to stop it in accordance with them."