Last Daughter of Krypton: Legion IC

[Wyldfire]

Dawnstar. Some things are too hard to unlearn.

It passed in a haze of pain and rage. The pain inflicted and the rage at her own helplessness. Dawnstar faded in and out of cinciousness all throughout the exchange. Onece in Medbay and stablized she managed to get words out. "Let me go. I will find her and kill her myself." She'd actually managed to pry herself up past the Durlan but fallen upon managing it.

She began to crawl. To crawl towards the door muttering "I must do this." over and over.

 

[Lunaramblings]

Cham sifted around the form of his would be charge. He didn't want to do more harm than good. He shifted his mass and his body, whirling until he was at eye level just before her.

"I know pain. I know loss. This is not a fight you can win. Not now. Not like this. I have no idea what Fate was thinking, but considering what he just gave up for you, you would be well advised not to make his sacrifice in vain." Cham could be soft, easy to talk to, but now he was firm. Hard as stone and twice as unyielding. "You must not go running off like a fool. Allow us to heal you. Allow us to help. You owe that to Fate. You owe that to the millions his sacrifice may destroy. Dammit Dawn, you owe that to yourself. Now get up, get back on the bed and rest. You are a fighter. No doubt, but I will subdue you if need be."

 

[AmenRa]

R.j.

Brande turned to Liz and Rond Vidar.

"If you would accompany me to the medbay?" he asked. He turned, and when the doors swished open for him, he called over his shoulder.

"Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

He then wasted no time in getting to the medbay. One of his children was hurt, and he had to check on her. Brande, or rather J'onn, felt close to all of the Legionnaires, but he had a particular fondness for DawnStar, the sentinel. Perhaps because she was much like him in many ways.

He found DawnStar crawling towards the doors, obviously in pain, and obviously ready to fight.

Brande looked into her eyes, and the Voice of Mars spoke to her in a soft whisper in her mind.

You must heal. You must rest. She will be brought to justice.

The Legion will prevail, but all of its members, and most of all, you, must be strong enough to stand against her.

R.J. Brande perched on his cane and extended a hand to her. He then motioned for Cham to come assist.

"She is a strong one," Brande said, "and in the best of care here."

Brande's next move was to have a face-to-face talk with Kyle Greystone.

It was time.

 

[ChasNicollette]

"Eternity. Always waiting." (With apologies to Grant Morrison and Bill Shakespeare)

And your voice was all I heard
That I get what I deserve

*********

North Tower.
World Trade Center.
September 10, 2001.​

He stood there.

He stood there. Gazing out.

His brown coat was draped over the back of one of the orange chairs, and he gazed out of one of the tall tall windows at the Island of Manhattan.

He wore the blue suit. And the green shoes. And a tenderly morbid expression on his face.

He held a glass of what looked like wine, held it low by his waist, and he gazed out at the City of New York. His other hand was in his pocket.

A gentle voice came from behind him: "Sir. Could I interest you in a menu?"

He didn't respond for a long long moment, standing there between two empty tables as he gazed out from Windows on The World.

He turned to face her.

She really was quite beautiful. Japanese-American, skin of golden brown and eyes as dark as a woodland night.

Her hair fell around her chin.

He gazed at her quietly for a moment, long and thoughtfully.

And took a sip from his glass.

"Don't suppose I could order off-menu?" he wondered, an element of mordant curiosity in his voice. "A good platter of fish and chips, wrapped in newspaper? (They don't wrap them in newspaper anymore, never tastes the same.)"

She hesitated a beat. But only a beat. Bless her.

"Would you prefer The Times," she wondered, "or The Post?"

He smiled at her, a smile on one side of his lips but not the other, a brilliant sad hybrid of a smile and a smirk. "Oh. I like you."

She returned the smile. Awkwardly, and folded her hands in front of herself. "Not that we do not appreciate your adhering to our dresscode? But I regret to inform you, sir, that if you aren't going to order something, I shall have to ask you to leave."

He turned away from her again. Blew air out through his lips and shook his head a tiny bit. "Well. Isn't that a bit ironic?"

She arched her eyebrow. "Sir?"

He chuckled faintly, a hollow little sound. "Nothing, nothing."

He turned to face her again, sipping from the wineglass. "Just enjoying the view. Always did like the views from up here. Can see Ellis Island from the bar, you know? Friend of mine lives next door."

Both eyebrows, now. "The Statue of Liberty?"

His grin was a bit brighter at that. "Oh, you've met! Splendid!"

She took a deep breath and tried to maintain her cool, he was mystifying and bizarre and she had no idea what to make of him. "Sir, I'm afraid you might be drunk. And given that you brought that glass in with you, you could at least have the politeness to become inebriated on beverages offered in our own aforementioned adjoining bar."

He blinked, ostensibly completely bewildered. "What?"

He glanced down at himself, and caught sight of the wineglass as if he'd never seen it before.

And then chuckled. "Ohhhh, this?"

He held up the glass and swished it around a bit. "Ribena. Blackcurrant, like my favourite flavour of Jelly Baby."

He eyed the glass, feigning wariness. "Low-sugar version, though. Determined to keep these teeth."

"I... see," she attempted, though she could not see at all, and who could blame her?

He set down the glass on the table nearby which his coat was draped.

Both hands in his pockets, he gazed at her with a quiet kind of endless despair.

"I won't stay long," he promised. "I just wanted to take in the view. One last time."

She hesitated.

He gestured to the Manhattan skyline. "Stay with me. Shan't be a mo'."

She smiled thinly. And nodded. Despite his bizarre mode of speech, despite how he seemed so very very out of place, there was something oddly... charming about him.

"So long as it is only for a moment."

He smiled a quiet little smile.

And he leaned against the window, propping his elbow against the pane and squinting his dark eyes out into the world.

"Moment's all it takes, sometimes," he murmured. "And sometimes it takes forever."

She digested this. "To do what?"

"Change the world," he murmured. "I mean, changing the world's all well and good. But some things you can't change. Not one jot. Not one tittle. Some things are constant. The speed of light in a vacuum, so forth. Death and taxes. And tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she frowned, feeling like an idiot, peppering him with questions.

"Tomorrow always comes," he murmured, and for a moment, she felt like he was no longer aware of her presence, like he'd gone off somewhere in his head, somewhere behind those dark eyes. "Well. Not always. I've seen the day with no tomorrow. I've seen how it ends. I came in at the middle, and I've seen how it ends. Skipped ahead. The only thing I don't know is how it all started."

He shook his head. "Haven't been to The Beginning. Too afraid."

Feeling brave, she decided to try again with the questions. After all, security was only a shout away. If he proved to not be harmless.

"Why would you be afraid of The Beginning?" she wondered.

He blinked, and resumed contact with the real world, he looked at her and he rubbed behind his ear with an extended fingertip. He looked rueful, like he was admitting to something that should be kept in confidence.

"Well," he shook his head. "The end is easy. You take a good long look and then rewind, go back to your homes, citizens. Like Milliway's. But, oh, The Beginning. Oh, that's not something you walk away from unchanged."

He shivered slightly. Ever so slightly. "Big bloody hand reaching out of the darkness. No. Everything'll change. I'll change. Never be the same again. I'm not ready. I'm not finished. Not finished muddling about in the middle, not finished trying to make the middle a better place."

"You realise," she prompted gently, "that what you're saying sounds completely... mad?"

His eyebrow craned upward, and he was blatantly apologetic. "It gets worse before it gets better."

She went a little pale.

"I want to fix... everything," he murmured. "I really really do want to. To fix everything, to save everyone. But there's two things stopping me. Two very big, very big important things."

He held up one finger. "First: the nature of Time itself. Certain events are in flux, mutable, changeable, can turn 'em topsy-turvy like a Magic 8 Ball and, oh, hey, completely different chain of events. But other events... other events are locked in place, cannot be moved, cannot be begged or bought or borrowed or stolen."

He held up a second finger. His voice was building.

"Second: you have to grow up on your own. Right now you're between Ages of Heroes, I've done my research. Always there have been secrets right under your noses but nothing's going to come out of the woodwork in time to stop this. Everything's going to change soon, but not yet, and I can't-- I can't-- I can't stand here and hold your collective hand through all of it. Because if I do, all these World Wars yet to come and the meteor showers and the sinking of islands, if I do stumble about righting all these wrongs, the human race will never grow up will never become that which it's meant to become. It'll never ascend, transcend."

He closed his eyes, lowered his hand. He seemed... hunched. Like he was struggling to stand up under the weight of the world.

And he recited, as though from a sonnet, as though from a prayer: "'Regard this organism; this prodigy among the stars... this Earth.

"'Its expressive diversity of creation. Its self-evolving perfection. And soil fertile enough to grow gods if spared the wrath of the last survivor of a war that ended in fire...'"

He trailed off. "Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be both. It will be an event fixed, immutable, and it will be one of those events that will make or break you as a species."

He lifted his head and there were tears rolling down his face.

"I could stop it," he murmured, pleaded, begged, not her but someone, Someone, he begged of Them. "But I can't. I can't I can't I can't. Metal beasts of burden sent from the sky, made unstoppable juggernauts and torchbearers. And it will burn. The soul of this city will burn. And I could stop it. But I can't. And I'm sorry.

"I'm so sorry."

Her eyes were wide and her lip was trembling and this man was dangerous she couldn't believe a word of it, this man was dangerous (she could feel it) and yet he wasn't--

He wasn't dangerous to her. She could feel it.

"'Mad old soothsayer,'" he mumbled, and smiled a weary broken little smile.

"To say the least," she breathed.

He looked at her. He picked up the glass of Ribena and downed the remainder of its contents, drained the glass dry.

He picked up his coat and he draped it over his arm.

"You're working tomorrow," he wondered. "During breakfast?"

She hesitated. "Yes."

He looked at her, he looked at her with eyes darker still than woodland night. He looked at her with an intensity that took her breath away.

"Stay home," he murmured. "Stay home. And then live your life. If you've got a boyfriend, stay home with him, have kids, raise them up, raise them to be brave, to be warriors for peace, to always remember tomorrow."

He threw his coat on, tugged at the collar, straightened it out.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Tomorrow."

He picked up the glass and put it in his pocket. Oddly, it seemed to fit, and there was no sound of bursting glass. "Tomorrow. And every tomorrow after."

He walked past her, heading for the exit, and while a good number of her instincts rang like alarm bells to let him go, she couldn't help it, she called after him: "Who are you?"

He looked at her, pausing in the doorway. "I'm called The Doctor. And how about you, what was your name?"

"Valentina," she replied, her voice a hesitation. "'Val.'"

He smiled at that. Smiled gently. Wisely. Delightedly.

"'Val,'" he nodded. "Live your life. 'You are only forerunners.'"

And then he was gone.

And she stood there for a moment.

Stood there for a few moments.

And a few moments later, she thought she heard something from somewhere above her, sounded like it was coming from the roof, an echoing and a groaning that stood out from the winds that forever chorused around a building of this height.

Sounded like it was coming from the roof. But that made no sense. No-one was allowed up there.

Valentina turned and glanced out through the windows of Windows on The World.

She gazed at the skyline of New York City like she'd never seen it before.

And then she turned. And walked away. And lived to tell about it.

Lived to tell her grandchildren.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Ceriel. Legion HQ.

Inside her helm Allana’s eyebrow quirked upwards as she tiled her head back and looked at a cloud high overhead. “1,213,246,512,198,564,984,188 H2O particles exist in that cloud formation. Unless you were specifying a different and larger one?”

Ceriel blinked for a moment. Interesting.

And then smiled softly. "The green lad's going to like you."

Walking up the steps she had the armour adjust the gravitic repulsion field. Making her lighter. The sound of grinding stone lessened and finally ceased. Pausing at the door she opened it, then stepped back and held it open for the celestial. Granted anyone watching on oracle screens would be confused by the action. And granted the Celestial could walk through the door, or the wall, but it was duty. And respect.

This was an excellent point. To Ceriel, in her current state, the thickest of partitions were as open windows to her. But the kindness of mortals was never a thing to be discouraged. And thus, with a grateful inclination of her head, she strode through into the entryway.

She beheld the great statues, looming above. A whole different kind of Trinity. And their hosts.

She grinned at the spot of one of the winged figures there. A friend of hers. She remembered hearing how he'd been one of them, once, one of The League. What a trip it was to see him carved in stone.

"Graven images," she murmured, and tsked playfully, maternally.

“Welcome to the Legion Headquarters of Earth, Dame Magdalena. I shall inform the others of your arrival, immediately.”

Looking around she couldn’t immediately detect the location of the vox-casters, but moments later she located them. An ultra low frequency triangulation revealing their hidden positions.

Alarm bells tolled at the edge of her consciousness.

A knot tied in her gut, tension emanating.

Electrical signals and empathy. Danger awareness. She hadn't expected this to trigger.

But she was a Guardian Angel. And her mother sense was tingling.

Goosebumps like molten silver raindrops pinpricked her skin.

Oh, dear.

"Have boys ever plied you with the line," she cautioned, "'your mouth says "no" but your body says "yes?"'"

She gestured low with her palm flat towards the floor, scale-it-back.

"The automated systems have recognised your transponder code, but they've also analysed your weapons. Your ident says 'yes' but your worldbusters say 'no.'

"We're late. Things have started without us. And they may not take kindly to you. I'm sure you can handle it. Defuse. Swords into ploughshares, here, not the other way around."

 

[ChasNicollette]

VM3: "Eternal Twilight." Valkyrie M3's quarters.

"Ya do it the way anyone does Thermangel. Ya find people ya trust ta hold you through the tough times." Jo started to hug Jaymie but stopped herself.

'If you can't walk. You crawl. And when you can't do that.

You find someone to carry you.'

Her father's voice. A rare moment of inspiration rather than hard-driven determination. A rare moment of compassion.

Reciting a mantra passed down from some forgotten source, something embedded in the family mythology.

She looked down at her own slagged costume and said "Give me three blinks, okay?"

One heel of her hand pressed to a ruby eye, Jaymie nodded. "Take all the blinks you--"

At Ultra speed jo hit her quarters and back with a fresh costume.

Jaymie couldn't help but smile at that. A shattered shard of stained-glass smile, but a smile nonetheless. There and back again.

Just like that.

Jaymie could keep up with a cheetah at full sprint but these people, these people, they could do things without even thinking about it that just blew all of that away.

"Now then let me get clean and I'll tell you storys until you fall asleep."

"Stories," Jaymie nodded, intoned, gently droned. "Always did like a good story."

She was stripped and through the shower in slightly longer than it had taken to get her new costume. She came out of the shower in just a green thong, her scars right there for Jaymie to see.

If this had been a ploy to throw another monkey-wrench into Jaymie's catatonia, it was working. Jaymie blinked, and rubbed a tear out of her eye...

She was beautiful.

She had. Scars. But she was--

No. Ultra Girl wasn't always invulnerable.

Jaymie blinked back her tears, though she felt more coming, she'd let the first batch out to run riot and the rest of them were raring to go. She felt her throat constricting with the weight of the--

--look on Dev-Em's face like he was surprised his bones knew how to break that look there forever--

--water trying to escape from her eyes.

She tried to see clearly. Her fingers itched. To trace those scars, those myriad endless scars, to read them like a blind woman would have read Braille, to find in them a map of the multiverse...

Jaymie didn't have scars. She'd never been hurt badly enough that her medium-level regen ability couldn't rebuild her in pristine condition.

(Well. Until now.)

Jo's skin was like bronze and the scars stood out from that skin like chalks.

But she was. Beautiful.

"There we go. Hope you don't mind, but I don't sleep in a lot."

She laughed at that, her laugh like a fistful of that aforementioned broken glass. Her own hand took a fistful of her pale blue hair.

"Why would. Anyone. Mind. That?"

She swallowed hard, her throat still fighting the graviton impacts of tears as yet uncried.

"You're immaculate."

A fresh gout of saline solution pinpricked behind her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. "I just wish I could. Do something about. This."

Jaymie flourished her palm across her face like some ancient muscled showman claiming that he could not be seen.

She carried herself to the lounger in the room and curled up on it. Jo looked at the tears in Jaymie's eyes and held her arms out in invitation for the girl to come and be held. "I cried the first time too Jaymie. We all cry the first time."

Jaymie slunk towards Jo Nah like a stung feline, and yet, and yet, unable to resist the idea of warmth. She still couldn't wrap her head around how much skin Jo was showing but...

But there was nothing illicit about the comfort Jo offered. It was just.

--Candi almost sawn in half--

Togetherness.

"Crying's easy," she mumbled. "It's stopping crying that's the trick."

As Jo talked she remembered. "First time's always the worst. No dignity, pride kicked in the teeth, just nothing."

VM3 let out a bit of a whimper as she slithered into the lounger with the powerhouse with the long dark hair. No no nothing at all.

As Jaymie came and sat with her Jo went on. "This was your first time. At least you got away from the physical part of it babe. I promise I will do my damnedest to make sure you never get that particular wake up. None of the girls on the team."

Aghast, Jaymie glanced up at Jo with a renewed horror.

It could have been me.

It could have been any of us.

In the arms of those monsters.

That gave her pause. And then some.

They say we all know someone. Statistically. Someone who's been touched. Like that.

Hurt. Like that.

How can that still happen?

How can it still?

Horrifying. It could have been me. It could have been any of us.

We have to stop them. I have to stop this and we have to stop them.

"Wasn't always Ultra girl ya know. The 'Bor's not a girl's place really. I made it by always picking myself up and eventually becoming one of the meanest Squajes around."

Jaymie closed her eyes. Rested her head against Jo's shoulder.

She could feel the warmth in Jo's flesh. No wonder she always wore those full-body outfits. She didn't want to give away the secret of how warm she was.

VM3 mused faintly, featherlightly, not quite right not all there: "So that's the vector, huh? If I want to stop. Crumbling? I've got to be... inertronclad."

"Honestly Jaymie, I hope you never get hardened to what we saw today. I've been around here for a while now and this was the absolute worst I've ever seen."

Jaymie hesitated. But if you can't harden yourself then you have to feel it.

You can't not.

And if you have to feel it, how can you-- how can you--

--survive--

--Despair and Destruction--

--how can you live how can you fight?

VM3 frowned and she wrestled with concepts that her haggard tattered mind would have had trouble grasping at the best of times.

She smiled. "As to the Galtos, honestly? It was a vacation from the 'Bor. And 'sides, I was there like a week when that break out attempt happened. Next thing I know I'm being cut loose and sent of here to the Legion."

"Brand new life," she murmured. "Brand new you. Like-- like neoteny. Like the-- like the axolotl, this funny salamander thing they have here on Earth in Old Mexico. It does this thing where--" she gestured, dismissing herself.

"Under special circumstances. You evolve. Or you drown on dry land."

She sat back a little bit on Jo's lap, and gazed at her quietly, her eyelids a quarter lowered over those reddened ruby eyes.

"'When you can't walk, you crawl. When you can't do that, you find someone to carry you.'"

"Except sometimes the someone that carries you is a new version of yourself."

"Another you. 'VM3.1.' Or something."

Fire licked at her cheeks and evapourated the tears, though still, still, there was more coming.

She sat there in the lap of a goddess, this nerdy little rookie in her billowy tee and her funny plaid boywear. She felt. Unworthy.

"I think I can do that. Without turning into-- you know-- depleted promethium or something."

"I think I can find another me. I think I can evolve."

"I think."

She put her hand on her forehead, and laughed a broken stained-glass laugh.

"I don't know."

"I don't know."

 

[ChasNicollette]

GL 2261 and Teen Lantern. Threshold Xmission, Medbay.

Liz bit her tongue and tasted blood.

This was not going nowhere fast. It was going somewhere dark and deep, and it was going there fast.

She was mystified by this blue slinky sensuous thing that seemed to have attached herself to her father. About as unlike her mother as one could get...

Perhaps interestingly, her father seemed to have struck up a rapport with this creature. Like he was showing off for her.

(On the bright side, he hadn't taken her along, a whirlwind magical mystery tour. Though it seemed the Talokian female seemed rather disappointed by this.)

All the same! How could he be showing off for some boudoir-garbed warrioress when this was happening to Jonah and to Fate? Old men and their mid-life crises, even her father wasn't immune to a little bit of cradlerobbery, but this-- the timing on this--

They'd just made The Empress more powerful still.

At least the helmet wasn't covering Sarya's entire face.

But still. It was golden. (It would have to be golden.) If Liz was to go into battle against an Empress clad in gold and feel even one tiny lick of fear or terror or dread, The Empress would wipe her out in an instant.

And Rond, still so new at this, not yet equipped with a full-fledged Ring, not yet able to fully overcome fear, he would be taken down even quicker than that.

This will be. Interesting.

She'd bitten her tongue and tasted blood. But it was already healing.

She'd lived a long time. There was a reason for that.

Rond, meanwhile. Rond Vidar.

Not for nothing was he descended from Vikings.

Legend had it that the ancient storm god Thor had been able to time-travel with a whirl of his hammer. Rond had never been able to confirm or deny this. But nevertheless he'd made sure to incorporate Norse mythology into his studies of temporal mechanics and its effects on history.

Looks like I'm going to die.

I think I might die fighting.

Could be worse. Valhalla? There are worse afterlives.

Cause. And effect.

The sight of The Empress with that helmet on put a chill into Rond Vidar's bones. But he ignored that chill.

(Perhaps he was already overcoming fear, after all.)

Brande turned to Liz and Rond Vidar.

"If you would accompany me to the medbay?" he asked.

"Of course," Liz nodded.

"I'm already there," Rond inclined his head, a little bit of hyperbolic figurative precognition.

He turned, and when the doors swished open for him, he called over his shoulder.

"Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

A faint little smirk danced upon Liz' lips. She remembered hearing a story at a Christmas party, Kord delightedly relating how he had made a Spock joke at Bruce's expense and how Bruce, startling everyone, had returned fire with a Sulu reference.

"No Vulcans here, Mister Brande," she remarked playfully, almost apologetically, as they followed him. "Even the Coluan's wandered off."

"We do have someone with pointy ears, however," Rond joined in without missing a beat, indicating the pouting blue woman as the door closed behind them with a hiss straight out of Glen Glenn Sound.

Liz arched an eyebrow, somewhere between Nimoy and Quinto. "You know Star Trek."

"Fabulous temporal theory fiction," Rond replied, utterly deadpan, utterly Tim Russ. "Fourth movie changed my life. And then there was the reboot..."

Liz pursed her lips, and looked straight ahead. "'Fascinating.'"

He then wasted no time in getting to the medbay.

He found DawnStar crawling towards the doors, obviously in pain, and obviously ready to fight.

Brande looked into her eyes...

Liz had no psychic ability, save when she willed her Ring to lend her that power, but she could tell. Something about the way he connected to this beautiful winged creature, something about the way he tilted his head... he was speaking to her, mind to mind.

And Liz. Felt a little pang of jealousy. More than a little. A flash of Orange jealousy and greed.

But like fear, she overcame this, too, with an exertion of will, mastering herself.

J'onn, Brande, he no more belonged to her than Mars belonged to The United Planets with all its colonies and citadels.

She was acting like a teenager with a crush. Like that little blue girl pining after The Scion of Shadow. Was Liz any better than the Talokian? After all, as old as Liz was, J'onn had lived far, far longer, no-one knew how long. And he would be old and ancient still when Liz' healing and age-resistance had failed her and she would be bonedust amongst the stars.

Pining after older men. Was this any better?

R.J. Brande perched on his cane and extended a hand to her. He then motioned for Cham to come assist.

Ah. The Durlan. A manhuntress and a shapeshifter helping a Martian do good works.

No wonder he loved them.

And Liz. With a flare of Indigo compassion. Forgave them. Though, really, they hadn't truly transgressed.

"She is a strong one," Brande said, "and in the best of care here."

"Good luck, Dawnstar," Liz invoked. "Better soon. I wish to exact justice by your side before this is over."

Brande's next move was to have a face-to-face talk with Kyle Greystone.

"Where to now," Rond wondered, touching the mask on his face, and wondering when it would be that he'd have to face the music with the entities who doled out these Rings, "uh, sir?"

It was time.

 

[ChasNicollette]

"Why do I always attract the smartasses?" I muttered as I stood up...

Tasmia's lip quirked. "Simply lucky, I guess."

...then there was a pounding on the door. I walked over and opened it, to find the young blond woman in red and white standing there, a look of almost panic on her face.

Tasmia watched this with interest, her Ring had started thrumming, and it thrummed with the same intensity that now radiated from Saturn Girl's mind...

"Shady, good thing your here!! It's the Empress. She has Dawnstar and wants Fate or she'll do worse than what she has done to her!! Rokk wants Wraith in the control room, and everyone else ready to go at a moments notice.

"'Shady,'" she harrumphed, sticking with the Shadowspeak even though Imra could easily have discerned her intent in her thoughts, though then she switched to Interlac. "The Empress. The Emerald Empress?"

"Empress? The lady in green that Liz was fighting?"

"Thats the homicidal bitch. The Lantern is about ready to rip her heart out right now if what i got from Cos is accurate."

"The Emerald Empress," she scowled. "'Liz the Lantern?' I wish someone had informed me. If I'd known this particular tactic would have ended in such dismal ambiguity, I would much rather have tried to impress my Lord on the battlefield instead."

I grabbed my rose glasses from the dresser, the only thing the bot left. Putting them on I walked over to the girl, then turned to Tasmia. "You wanted to be by my side, well, get over here. Lets go kick some ass."

The scowl dematerialised as a leering languid smirking smile perked there instead. "As you command, my Lord."

She pulled on those clingy black black boots and swirled her cape around her shoulders, clipping this with the golden shooting-star emblem that so resembled a Terran "s."

(Saturn Girl gave her a funny look, and mouthed 'My Lord?', but Shadow Lass simply waved dismissively, and thought in her direction. 'Later, dearie. We'll compare notes over my failures in seducing a god to your failing to be seduced by a pretty little farmboy.'

Imra turned as pink as an early version of her uniform that Tasmia once had seen. And Tasmia smiled delightedly.)

********​

Tasmia indeed remained by her Lord's side.

She watched the stand-off between the emerald mass-murderess and Lord Azrakel. She tried not to purr delightedly as the shadows bubbled up with his fury, she tried not to sigh blissfully when he took his stand, declared that he would kill the villains before him.

Tasmia wouldn't kill. That promise she would keep to her world and its people for the sake of the U.P. treaties and The Legion's charter. But Wraith was not Legion, nor should ever he be.

(She liked it when he talked like that.)

But the talking kept happening. This bewildered her.

They kept talking and talking and the female of the two Lanterns was staring at her like she'd kicked a puppy.

And then Lord Azrakel was gone.

And he left her behind. Tasmia blinked.

And scowled. And pouted.

She had been standing next to a singularity of pure shadow-clad sex and violence and then he was gone. To her, drenched in darkness, it had been like standing out in the sun would have been like for a Supergirl or a M'onel. And then he was gone, her black sun eclipsed, and she stood alone and she felt very very naked indeed.

And not in the good way.

Bitterly, she scowled.

And she wondered if maybe she had been barking up the wrong tree all along.

Wraith and Fate-- no, Jonah, better call him Jonah without the helmet --negotiated for Dawnstar's release, and M'onel watched.

Jonah seemed. Well. Fatalistic. Which was some kind of irony, honestly. Just a short while ago, Jonah had been resigned to resignation, locked into giving up his Flight Ring because of a mistaken, no, misgiven identity. And now he was giving up the mantle he wore.

He was convinced that he didn't deserve all of this and he was doing the Universe a favour by giving it up. Lar had tried to convince him otherwise, but there it was, that resignation.

Survivor's guilt.

Jonah was here and all he knew was gone, survivor's guilt.

The Family Gand were all dead.

M'onel hid from the name history had given him.

He knew better than most other people what Jonah Tennylson was going through.

But unlike Jonah, he didn't have anything that he could give up to save Dawnstar. Beautiful, fierce, icy Dawnstar.

(Except in so doing he had given up that mantle to a woman who reminded Lar of Zod just as she had reminded R.J., though Brande had not spoken these thoughts aloud.)

Jonah had healed Dawnstar. Dawnstar had been released.

Jazmin's hand touched his shoulder and she performed a healing touch of her own, golden globes dancing around his flesh, darting through his cells, realigning his bio-electric force aura, pumping him full of a cocktail of quantum scrub and yellow-sun photons.

So little. So late.

But still.

"Thank you."

She pursed her lips, evidently as bent out of shape by her helplessness as Lar had been. "Anytime."

Shadow swirled, and Dawnstar was gone, rescued by Wraith and by Jonah.

And now The Empress was Fate. Just as easily as stealing James Cullen's stasis belt, she had gone from an Alpha Level threat to an Omega.

And she wasn't done yet.

Magenta's armour...

Brande left with the two Lanterns.

He turned, and when the doors swished open for him, he called over his shoulder.

"Mr. Spock, you have the conn."

Ayla looked shaken. She was leaning against the wall, hugging herself gently as Reep embraced her no longer.

"Who the sprock is Spock?"

"Don't look at me," Shadow Lass hmphed. "Don't eccentric visionary billionaires all have imaginary friends?"

But then Shvaughn spoke up: "Folks? We've just had an alarm go off in HQ security. World War VI level tech has just entered the building. Maybe a welcoming committee might want to go check this out? The newcomer hasn't torn anything up yet but you guys might want to check her out."

"If it ain't one thing," Jazmin frowned. "New to the whole 'Earth history' thing, which one was VI?"

"Not positive," Ayla straightened, ran a gloved hand through her hair, "but I think that was the one that sank England?"

"Sprock," M'onel sighed dismally. "All right. Cos, with your permission, I'll take Lightning Lass, Kid Quantum, and Shadow Lass, and we'll go contain--"

Then, an oddity came through. "Uhh guys? The Vatican has just informed us that this visitor is one of theirs."

The group of them hesitated.

"Oh," Ayla paused, remembering the PraeNeoMethodist meetings every week on Winath growing up. "That means they're okay, right?"

"Depends who you ask," Jazmin chuckled faintly. "I know their opinion of Valor worship isn't great."

"And from what I hear," Shadow Lass intoned dourly, "they'd burn 'demon-spawn' like myself at the stake as soon as look at me."

"I like them already," M'onel declared, though whether or not he was serious in this pronouncement, maybe even Imra would have trouble telling. "Let's go say 'hi.'"

********​

The four of them entered the lobby and saw the armoured warrioress standing there.

M'onel could feel the three women thrumming behind him, their energy levels tremendous. But the energy levels of the woman before him were excruciating in their own right.

He could feel the shiver in Tasmia's breathing, could hear the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

He took point. If this armoured woman tried anything, he stood the best chance of deflecting it so that lightning or quanta or darkforce could counterstrike.

He put his hands on his hips, the blue cape flourishing around him.

"Forgive the chilly reception," he began, addressing Allana. "You're catching us at a bit of a bad time. What can we do for you?"

Ceriel regarded the Daxamite with interest. Handsome bloke.

But more to the point?

The blue woman was Talokian. A being descended from Shadow.

Which meant. Between the Shadow Woman, the Denarian implanted in Allana, and Ceriel herself...?

All three shades of the spiritual spectrum were here represented. This was... auspicious. For 10,000 years of Shadow never once had the three hierarchies met ever in anything besides combat.

Then again. Things could go wrong. Please, God, let this not go wrong...

 

[ChasNicollette]

Brainiac Five. The Lab.

"I suppose I should be gentle," he mused, as his fingers hurtled like ten verdant quicksilver blurs across the keypad of the nanoassembler control console. "A good bedside manner."

He kicked the Lantern construct "ghost trap" across the floor, and it slid to a halt.

"Not my style, really."

Rings of "use-weave," red and gunmetal, hovered in the air above the trap. The stuff was durable yet flexible, capable of nearly infinite configurations. He'd only had to apply the nanites in order to ensure that, when the suit took shape around ERG-1, the seams would be energy-tight.

He'd left projection tubes in the palms of the thing, and in the backs of the arms. There was also a projection tube down the back which would permit ERG-1 to utilise his own energy for Newtonian thrust.

"There's a ridiculous abbreviation," he tsked, "if ever I've heard one. 'ERG-1.'"

His lip quirked.

His green green eyes locked onto the trap. His foot rested on the release plunger. "Tennylson. Or should I say... Tennylsons? Forgive me if I'm being a tad unforgiving, but you never could do anything right. Either of you."

"I was but a lowly researcher for Brande Industries," he mused, "before the illustrious industrialist drafted me for this remarkable little sociological venture. Occasionally, they'd send me out to take care of other people's messes, colleagues. I had to scrub that particle accelerator after you two got your 'Intrinsic Field Subtractor' treatment. With very few exceptions, coprophagous corporate busybodies should keep their noses out of the work of science. What business had you being at that anti-energy experiment in the first place?"

He gestured furiously, bitterly. "And now you're blowing up asteroids and threatening the lives of others. How is that learning from your mistakes? You even disintegrated your Flight Ring. Even for Brande, those things are expensive."

"'But Brainy,'" he mock-whined, "you're indubitably attempting to defend yourselves, 'without lab accidents, we'd never have superheroes. Without taking risks, we wouldn't have courage.'"

He snorted, shook his head. "You'll have to forgive my bitterness. My mother was a supervillain. The fourth Brainiac. I loved her dearly and I still have this annoyingly adorable fixation on tallish blondes as a result. A Kryptonian experiment got out of control and-- killed-- humans and Kryptonians. And infected my people. So you can understand. How I'd be. Vexed. By a couple of money-lenders trespassing in the temple of science and unleashing forces beyond all understanding.

"I have to police myself. Relentlessly. Far be it from me to become my mother's son. And if I have to keep eyes as watchful as Argus and Heimdall on my own consciousness, my own activities, if I have to spend every night sleepless managing my own intellect, I cannot be expected to 'go easy' on anyone who is not similarly relentless."

He paused. Reflected for a moment. "Perhaps that's why I. Respect her. So deeply. You know who I mean.

"She has to be so very careful. Even when she breathes, she could topple architecture. My idle thoughts are, in their own way, equally powerful. It's all about. Self-control."

He put his hand in his lab coat pocket. And held up another Flight Ring.

"Until formal proceedings begin," he murmured, "your badge of office and your Legionnaire status are, I suppose, still intact. And despite my vast suitability for the role, I lack the chairmanship necessary to suspend you. So I suppose I should give you this. I've already nano-encoded it to your transponder freq and ident signature. But there's no point in giving you a Ring unless you have an extremity upon which to affix the Ring."

He lifted his foot. "To that end."

"Please try to control yourself."

His foot came down. And the trap released, the doors opened and the gate reversed and the energy being within came pouring out, molten golden saffron scarlet bubbling fizzing light...

And it. Did something unprecedented.

It took shape.

Before Brainiac could initiate the config function and array the use-weave into the armoured flexsuit he'd designed...

...the energy configured itself.

Hands and legs.

A face.

Crackling golden saffron scarlet...

...an energy entity in humanoid form.

Brainiac's eyes widened.

"Minds of Colu," he breathed. "Eddie. Gabriel. What did you do?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Element Lad had his eyes closed.

He stood over what was left of The Wanderers, his hands folded in front of him.

He recited from memory a Buddhist funeral rite. In keeping with the symbology of the mandala.

Caroline, feeling worlds better thanks to the sun-lamp, had changed into a loose-fitting hospital garment while a couple of the Athramites repaired her uniform.

("Thanks, guys.")

Garth was giving Salu a dirty look, rubbing his nose. He was sure she'd overdone it, made it hurt more than it should have. Even the osteogenic regenerator that had made the repairs stick had stung like blazes.

Things were quiet. Things were sad.

Wraith placed his hand on Jonah's shoulder, and in an instant of darkness we emerged in the medical bay of the Legion hall. The Kryptonian girl yelp as Wraith emerged from darkness with Fate and Dawnstar beside him.

"Holy fuck!" Caroline yelped, coming up from her seat on the medbed with a fist raised, the darkness had parted and even her fantastic vision hadn't been able to probe the depths of it--

And out of it had stepped the brutal barbarian beast-man who'd staggered out of the timestream and taken down not one but two Fatal Fivers...

Him and helmless Fate and--

She hesitated. "Wait, what?"

Abandoning the notions of his own discomfort, Garth jumped down from his own seat. "Dawny?"

"See to the girl, I have some words I need to speak with my nephew."

Garth blinked, halfway to them. "What's the who now?"

But then Chameleon strode right through the medbay doors and accepted Dawny from Jonah Tennylson.

Shadow once more engulfed us...

They were gone, leaving Dawnstar behind.

But Dawnstar refused to get left. She got set upon a medbed but she writhed past the shapeshifter, collapsed to the floor... she had blood on her wing, there were flight feathers missing... there were chinks in the Amerind's pinions where magickal healing was still progressing...

She made for the door. She was barely conscious but she was conscious enough to be pissed the sprock off and if she was conscious enough to be pissed the sprock off she was conscious enough to be wicked sprocking dangerous.

But Chameleon was not easily evaded. He oozed in front of her and became a living barricade, no way would she get past him again.

And then the cavalry arrived.

R.J.; he held out his hand and beckoned for Cham to join him in helping her.

"She is a strong one," Brande said, "and in the best of care here."

"Good luck, Dawnstar," Liz invoked. "Better soon. I wish to exact justice by your side before this is over."

Brande's next move was to have a face-to-face talk with Kyle Greystone.

"Where to now," Rond wondered, touching the mask on his face, and wondering when it would be that he'd have to face the music with the entities who doled out these Rings, "uh, sir?"

Element Lad finished his soft and rhythmic enunciations. And he turned, weary traveller, and tucked his hands into his sleeves. "I think a lot of us are wondering that very thing, sir. If you do not mind my asking."

The Athramites finished fixing Powergirl's uniform-- "Thanks again, guys." --and she vanished into the bathroom for an instant, re-emerging fully dressed and tugging her blonde locks out from under the collar.

"Everything's changed, hasn't it?" Caroline mused, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I sure don't know what to do next."

"Well, for one thing," Garth suggested, "we find the bastitches what did this and do experiments on them to determine their conductivity."

He paused. And gazed worriedly at Dawnstar.

"But that's not wrong, Mister Brande, sir. Everything's changed. It's like everything up to now has been training. Warm-ups. Pre-Season. And now?"

He shook his head.

"Now we're up against the Big League type of bad guys."

"We can do this."

"But I think-- I think we need you to remind us, sir."

"Tell us, just tell us, that we can do this? And we'll believe you."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

"OK Jonah, your counting on Nabu being able to reign her in. Thats sounds like a plan Plasticman would come up with. You do realize that if she gains the power of the Mantle, she will go off in search of other objects of power, and with each trinket her power grows."

I took another sip of the elven wine, feeling it burn in my blood.

"I wonder if the time of Heroes has come and gone while I was away, and now it is only the time of violence. Not even the Joker in all his madness rose to this level of butchery. All the talk, all the ideals of not taking a life, against evil, it doesn't apply. If this woman fully gains the power of the mantle, then she must be eliminated. I'll bring Dirge if I must, but I will do what is necessary to protect you, all of you."

I finished the goblet with a gulp. "I will become the monster that these new evils will fear. It's a mask I wear well."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

The Vatican

The Knight left in a firestorm of sound and light, leaving the three men, (well, two men, well, one man, a semi-divine being and an Angel) in the study looking thoughtful.

"You realize Daniel that if the beast inside this girl takes control, with the power she has in that suit, she could destroy half the planet before she is taken down. You are sure she is the one written about?" Said the priest.

"While prophecies are ambiguous at best, she is the one. As for what she is to do, that He keeps to Himself." Said the angel.

"I am afraid Leonardo that I can shed no more light on her role in this. Father does like to keep his secrets. Now, about that tea you promised....."

The young man broke off, falling back into his chair, his face bleached white as if in shock.

"The Graveyard Lord is free of his prison of Shadows. Fire and Fury are his weapons, and all will kneel before him." Daniel said in a low, strange voice before he fell silent.

"It begins." said Gabriel, then he disappeared, leaving a single white feather behind to float down to the floor.

 

[Lunaramblings]

Jonah glanced at his Uncle, except the man he saw there was not the same man he had loved so long ago. The same man that had taught so many lessons. This was a harder, darker man.

"You know... I never thought I would see this. Not ever. You of all people. Dad used to tell me stories, about how you had to reign Uncle Mer in now and then, how you used to be his voice of reason. Now... you have quit. Take the easy road. Great. You speak of heroes, and in the same breath you dishonor them. Maybe you have forgotten. Maybe all this... this... unchecked power has gone to your head. Allow me to remind you. Allow me to show you that which you have lost." Jonah looked Kyle in the eyes. Not blinking. Anger and disgust in his face. "Eternity!"

A swirl of mist rises and takes form. In an instant the form is whole. It glows slightly, an Emerald sheen surrounding a man in a long coat.

"Too long Kyle. Too long." Merick Tennylson speaks from beyond his grave. The characteristic grin sweeping through his face. "Et tu, Bozo? Gonna take that easy road? You know, this relative of mine did that... found out it was a lonely path. Jamie and Ceri would cringe to hear those words I think. Rosy too. Let me ask you, oh might Scion of Spookypants, who is the villain in a world where the heroes don't follow their own rules? Do we get to wear nifty little flags or some such? To differentiate what side we fight on? No, it becomes a world without heroes. A world where the guy with the biggest guns, the biggest muscle is King. A world that we all fought to prevent more than once. But hey, do what you will. I trust you Wraithy McWraithington for Spooksville Spookasota."

 

[Lunaramblings]

"I suppose I should be gentle," he mused, as his fingers hurtled like ten verdant quicksilver blurs across the keypad of the nanoassembler control console. "A good bedside manner."

He kicked the Lantern construct "ghost trap" across the floor, and it slid to a halt.

"Not my style, really."

Rings of "use-weave," red and gunmetal, hovered in the air above the trap. The stuff was durable yet flexible, capable of nearly infinite configurations. He'd only had to apply the nanites in order to ensure that, when the suit took shape around ERG-1, the seams would be energy-tight.

He'd left projection tubes in the palms of the thing, and in the backs of the arms. There was also a projection tube down the back which would permit ERG-1 to utilise his own energy for Newtonian thrust.

"There's a ridiculous abbreviation," he tsked, "if ever I've heard one. 'ERG-1.'"

His lip quirked.

His green green eyes locked onto the trap. His foot rested on the release plunger. "Tennylson. Or should I say... Tennylsons? Forgive me if I'm being a tad unforgiving, but you never could do anything right. Either of you."

"I was but a lowly researcher for Brande Industries," he mused, "before the illustrious industrialist drafted me for this remarkable little sociological venture. Occasionally, they'd send me out to take care of other people's messes, colleagues. I had to scrub that particle accelerator after you two got your 'Intrinsic Field Subtractor' treatment. With very few exceptions, coprophagous corporate busybodies should keep their noses out of the work of science. What business had you being at that anti-energy experiment in the first place?"

He gestured furiously, bitterly. "And now you're blowing up asteroids and threatening the lives of others. How is that learning from your mistakes? You even disintegrated your Flight Ring. Even for Brande, those things are expensive."

"'But Brainy,'" he mock-whined, "you're indubitably attempting to defend yourselves, 'without lab accidents, we'd never have superheroes. Without taking risks, we wouldn't have courage.'"

He snorted, shook his head. "You'll have to forgive my bitterness. My mother was a supervillain. The fourth Brainiac. I loved her dearly and I still have this annoyingly adorable fixation on tallish blondes as a result. A Kryptonian experiment got out of control and-- killed-- humans and Kryptonians. And infected my people. So you can understand. How I'd be. Vexed. By a couple of money-lenders trespassing in the temple of science and unleashing forces beyond all understanding.

"I have to police myself. Relentlessly. Far be it from me to become my mother's son. And if I have to keep eyes as watchful as Argus and Heimdall on my own consciousness, my own activities, if I have to spend every night sleepless managing my own intellect, I cannot be expected to 'go easy' on anyone who is not similarly relentless."

He paused. Reflected for a moment. "Perhaps that's why I. Respect her. So deeply. You know who I mean.

"She has to be so very careful. Even when she breathes, she could topple architecture. My idle thoughts are, in their own way, equally powerful. It's all about. Self-control."

He put his hand in his lab coat pocket. And held up another Flight Ring.

"Until formal proceedings begin," he murmured, "your badge of office and your Legionnaire status are, I suppose, still intact. And despite my vast suitability for the role, I lack the chairmanship necessary to suspend you. So I suppose I should give you this. I've already nano-encoded it to your transponder freq and ident signature. But there's no point in giving you a Ring unless you have an extremity upon which to affix the Ring."

He lifted his foot. "To that end."

"Please try to control yourself."

His foot came down. And the trap released, the doors opened and the gate reversed and the energy being within came pouring out, molten golden saffron scarlet bubbling fizzing light...

And it. Did something unprecedented.

It took shape.

Before Brainiac could initiate the config function and array the use-weave into the armoured flexsuit he'd designed...

...the energy configured itself.

Hands and legs.

A face.

Crackling golden saffron scarlet...

...an energy entity in humanoid form.

Brainiac's eyes widened.

"Minds of Colu," he breathed. "Eddie. Gabriel. What did you do?"

"What's a matter Brainy? You look like you seen a ghost..." Wildfire begins to look around, and it is then that he realizes that he has to look "Wait... what did I do? What the sprocking nass did you do? You little... green... GENIUS! I have a body!" Wildfire takes a moment to consider his form. Wow! I am even anatomically correct! In your face Ken Doll! Oh and Brainy, as to why I do the things I do... simple. Chicks love scars. And a good story. A man with both... well, tell you what, we'll go drinking some time." Wildfire grins as he begins to flex.

 

[AmenRa]

"But that's not wrong, Mister Brande, sir. Everything's changed. It's like everything up to now has been training. Warm-ups. Pre-Season. And now?"

He shook his head.

"Now we're up against the Big League type of bad guys."

"We can do this."

"But I think-- I think we need you to remind us, sir."

"Tell us, just tell us, that we can do this? And we'll believe you."

Brande looked at him for a moment.

" 'If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?' " Brande stated in a quiet voice.

He nodded his head. "Fire must be fought with fire," he added. "And I know a thing or two about fire." Quieter, his voice directed at Liz, "Just a thing. Or two." Fire had plagued J'onn for most of his life. It began when his brother, sickened and twisted by Darkseid's minions, had set loose a psychic plague that consumed the civilization of Martians, both Green and White, including J'onn's wife and daughter. Had the Martian Manhunter not cut himself off from the telepathic bonds with the others of his kind he, too, would have burned.

It haunted him for centuries.

Until, after living on Earth for a time, he came across a man, a human, who had mastery of mental facilities far exceeding most. J'onn befriended this man, and together they formed an alliance of heroes not unlike the one he was among today. But this man, his friend, taught him how to overcome his fear of fire. This man knew how to overcome fear, to overcome dread, to turn it back on his enemies. That was the reason this man wore the symbol of a bat on his chest.

"You can do this," Brande said pointedly. "Any task set before you is accomplishable. You have only to set yourself to it. You must prepare for it. You must believe it. You must face your destiny with a solid mind, a solid stance, and a focus of resolve.

"Remember, we are not just one, but many. And, as such, when we fight, we fight as one. Powerful, compassionate, purposeful. These are the things that we carry into the fight for justice with us.

"Justice will prevail. The Legion will prevail."

Brande let a small smile escape then. The truth was, he had given this speech before, many times, to his comrades long ago. Bruce, Kara, Diana, Hal, the rest of the League had looked to him as their anchor, their unmovable rock of strength and wisdom. He intended to be that for the Legion now. He meant to lend as much as he had learned in his lifetimes as a Manhunter to this group of youngsters who, he knew, would hold the fate of the known universe in their hands.

Brande looked to Liz for just an instant. He knew that whatever destiny came to bear upon them, she was a part of it. She was a part of his life once more. And, he intended to somehow make that permanent.

I love you.

A fleeting thought, he had not intended, but now it did not matter. She probably knew it already anyway.

Brande took an Oreo out of a pocket on his coat.

Time to go.

"I need to speak with your father," he told Liz. "I'd like you there as well."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Brainiac Five. The Lab.

"What's a matter Brainy? You look like you seen a ghost..." Wildfire begins to look around, and it is then that he realizes that he has to look "Wait... what did I do? What the sprocking nass did you do? You little... green... GENIUS! I have a body!" Wildfire takes a moment to consider his form. Wow! I am even anatomically correct! In your face Ken Doll! Oh and Brainy, as to why I do the things I do... simple. Chicks love scars. And a good story. A man with both... well, tell you what, we'll go drinking some time." Wildfire grins as he begins to flex.

"I didn't," he mumbled. "I really didn't. It wasn't me. This isn't-- I need to--"

He frowned. "Collating."

Querl shook his head. "Ordinarily I would be here making jokes at your expense regarding the prospects of 'pounding back' silverales when you have neither a) an esophagus nor b) a liver. And yet. Here we find ourselves."

He clawed his fingers through his hair. "'E = mc-squared,'" he muttered furiously, "describes the energy contained in matter. Mass multiplied by the square of the speed of light, enormous energies. And yet. And yet. Newton. As early as Newton, even the feeble minds of Earth suspected that the process goes both ways. Matter into energy. And energy into matter. Given sufficient quantity of energy... your plasmic anti-energy form emulates matter. Simulated crystalline lattice structure. Like... hardlight. (Mind over matter making matter, you're arranging your own energies into a far more elaborate version of your usual construct, you just needed to have enough energies at your disposal and that detonation. Well. That was a lot of energy.)"

Brainiac cupped his chin in his palm. "Perhaps the x-factor of poor Quantum Queen's dispersal in the vicinity has had a quantum chromodynamic effect."

He paused. "I'm still. Collating."

But then he blinked, and refocused, and arched a golden eyebrow up his verdant forehead. "But you weren't engaging in jocularity regarding your anatomical correctness. Perhaps at last we have a challenger for that ridiculous legend surrounding the--"

He paused.

He couldn't believe he was going to say it.

He made the quotes with his fingers, and sighed dismally: "'Lightning Rod.'"

 

[Wyldfire]

Words. That was all they offered her, and none of them had tried to stop her physically. Why couldn't they understand that she could not stop, could not allow herself that weakness.

They'd stumbled onto Starhaven. It wasn't the world they were supposed to colonize. Starhaven had accepted them as it's own and remade them in the image of it's dreams. Made them truly the beings that had been visiting the planet for it's most vital resource. They had mined it for it's very memory. For the material, Nth metal, that had the capability of storing memory for those that could.

When the Thanagarians had returned as they did every four generations to mine the metal that seemed to near magically regrow, they had found that there were new residents. There had been a war. A very violent war between the children of Apache and the Warriors of Thanagar. The Thanagarians hadn't been prepared for the style of combat that the Starhavenites had waged. Even in thier victory the Thanagarians had felt remorse. These truly winged warriors had nearly fought an interstellar empire to a standstill. They paid reparations to the Starhavenites, who had negotiated, unbeknownst to them, with the help of Starhaven itself. It had guided the leaders of it's people to make the Thanagarians lessen the amount of Nth metal they took. They had nearlt lobotomised the planet every time they had harvested the metal.

That had been the begining of the alliance. The Starhavenites had accepted membership to the United Planets yet still shipped the agreed on amount of the metal to the Thanagarians, who were not members of the U.P. The Havenites were trained in arial combat and they returned the favor by teaching the Apache ways to the Thanagarians.

Then Dawnstar had been born. Starhaven had blessed her with the gift of tracking. Had blessed her with the enhancements that would make her a champion, including her determination and willfullness. It had dreamed of the darkness coming and had provided a champion for the battle. Starhaven had made her easily found by the ancient that was forming the army that would stand against the darkness. It had made the leadership of Starhaven more receptive to the arrangement of Dawnstar's employment.

This left a young woman on hands and knees trying to get to an enemy that had hurt her badly. A woman wanting to commit acts of violence on any who would try to stop her her vengeance.

Then he arrived and told her to rest. To recover. If it had been any but him, she'd have resisted and tried to lash out. But he was her employer and she was honor bound to obey his orders. The Lantern had her say and Dawnstar just let herself go, collapsing to the floor. Brande had given her orders, but she now found herself unable to physically obey them.

"Chameleon, thank you for your concern. Would you be so kind as to get me to the bed again. I will behave myself until I am able to fly again."

She looked about the room and said "After that however, I can make no promises as to my behavior. Once I can fly, I am after her. "

 

[ChasNicollette]

Brande looked at him for a moment.

" 'If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?' " Brande stated in a quiet voice.

"'Instant karma,'" Jan murmured softly, a faint little smile painted upon his lips.

He nodded his head. "Fire must be fought with fire," he added. "And I know a thing or two about fire." Quieter, his voice directed at Liz, "Just a thing. Or two."

Liz didn't smile often. But this. A thousand-year-old memory of her mother. Her grandfather would call it a "repeated meme." This made her smile.

"Just a thing. Or two. About Fire."

And not just memories of Rose. M'yri'ah, and K'hym.

J'onn J'onzz knew all there was to know about fire. He'd stared into The Darkness in The Heart of the fire. And he had become The Light to The Light.

And Liz knew a thing or two about Light. Just a thing. Or two. About Light.

"You can do this," Brande said pointedly. "Any task set before you is accomplishable. You have only to set yourself to it. You must prepare for it. You must believe it. You must face your destiny with a solid mind, a solid stance, and a focus of resolve.

Garth closed his eyes. He felt the electricity coursing throughout him. Blood bones and nerves, it was all throughout him. He remembered staggering out of bed in the early-morn hours to help bring life and food from the soil. And that had seemed insurmountable.

But R.J. was describing things that were beyond such definitions. No such word as "insurmountable."

He liked that.

"Remember, we are not just one, but many. And, as such, when we fight, we fight as one. Powerful, compassionate, purposeful. These are the things that we carry into the fight for justice with us.

Caroline Harrison gazed at Mr. Brande like she'd never seen him before.

Her predecessors had led her up in the way she should go but she'd never ever felt like she could get there. The weight of the "S" on her chest had been too much even for her strength to bear. She wore a different symbol now to escape that burden but still it haunted her.

The weight of that legacy.

But maybe... maybe she'd had it all wrong all along and maybe the legacy was supposed to give her the strength.

Oh my God...

"Justice will prevail. The Legion will prevail."

Rond Vidar nodded firmly. Sure, he was going to die in battle like all the good superheroes, but at the same time: "Long Live The Legion."

Brande let a small smile escape then.

Brande looked to Liz for just an instant. He knew that whatever destiny came to bear upon them, she was a part of it. She was a part of his life once more. And, he intended to somehow make that permanent.

I love you.

A fleeting thought, he had not intended, but now it did not matter. She probably knew it already anyway.

Red like a dusting of The Sands of Mars settled upon Liz' cheeks. And she felt Violet flare in her heart.

Had she known?

Not really. She'd... hoped. Maybe prayed. Just a little.

Hell with it.

I'm not afraid.

'I love you, too.'

Brande took an Oreo out of a pocket on his coat.

Time to go.

"I need to speak with your father," he told Liz. "I'd like you there as well."

"Of course," Liz inclined her head. "I wouldn't miss it."

Rond frowned. "What about me? I mean, I guess I'm supposed to stick to you like glue? But this really doesn't seem like it's any of my business."

Liz touched Rond on the shoulder. "You're quite right. Stay here and wait for further instructions. They'll be mad at me, and I'm sorry about that. They might even dust off one of the old Fists of The Guardians to come fetch us both. You go with them, whomever they send, and tell them I'll meet you lot on Oa."

"'Fists of The Guardians?'" Rond blinked. "Sounds uncomfortable."

"After The Manhunters," Liz chuckled faintly, "and before The Alpha Lanterns, there were The Fists of The Guardians. It's a long story."

She turned to gaze upon the Legionnaires present. "My friend here's been declared an honorary member of The Legion. If one of you could make sure he gets a Flight Ring before The Guardians send for him, that would be amazing. It would only lend creedence to his selection."

"Least I can do," Garth saluted. "Considering he facilitated my divorce from that nass-stained axe."

"Uh, cool," Rond nodded. "You're welcome."

"You be careful with that guy," Caroline cautioned, "Mister Brande. He's got a mean set of meat hooks on him, and I still haven't all the way forgiven him for whaling on Brainiac like he did."

She glanced at Liz. "No offence to your dad, or anything."

Liz smirked faintly. "None taken."

Dawnstar, meanwhile, had seen sufficient reason, if only for now, to be tended by healers.

"Chameleon, thank you for your concern. Would you be so kind as to get me to the bed again. I will behave myself until I am able to fly again."

She looked about the room and said "After that however, I can make no promises as to my behavior. Once I can fly, I am after her. "

At this, Jan Arrah extracted his hand from his sleeve, and held up his Ring for Dawnstar to see. Just as a reminder.

"Make no promise," he murmured, "that you cannot keep."

"Only remember that none of us need fly alone."

His eyes glittered like Tromium crystal. "We are Legion. We fly together."

 

[Wyldfire]

Jan Arrah extracted his hand from his sleeve, and held up his Ring for Dawnstar to see. Just as a reminder.

"Make no promise," he murmured, "that you cannot keep."

"Only remember that none of us need fly alone."

His eyes glittered like Tromium crystal. "We are Legion. We fly together."

As the Durlan shifted and was lifting her to her bed the Havenite looked at Jan and said with just a hint of humor and something strangely exotic with just a hint of eroticism in her eye "I think you misunderstand me Philosopher."

Cham had her back into her bed and Vi came to her and began manipulating the healing wings into devices that held them slightly spread so none could step on them accidentally. It was a position optimal for the avian's wings to heal and not bind themselves into a bad position in the healing.

"Jan, my people have a series of quotes from our colony ships data banks. One of them comes to mind. "If you kill them they won't learn nothing." I believe it was." The glint in her eye became less humorous "I intend on bringing her justice. I plan on blinding that eye of hers, leaving her broken and crippled, and then throw her into the deepest pit of Takron Galtos."

Violet stayed quiet as Damnstar said this. And just as quietly she reached out and hit Dawnstar in the neck with a hypo spray full of tranquilizers. The Apache girl started and began to try to turn on Violet with indignation and outrage in her eyes.

Salu Digby met Dawnstar's eyes and said "If you keep tensing up like that you're going to hurt yourself more. Sleep it off, and if you can behave when you wake up I will let you stay awake."

Rage filled Dawnstar's eyes for the half second it took for the tranq to take effect. Her eyes then fluutered for a second and then she drifted out of conciousness.

"Did anyone else find that act of femchismo as annoying as I did?

 

[Lunaramblings]

"What's a matter Brainy? You look like you seen a ghost..." Wildfire begins to look around, and it is then that he realizes that he has to look "Wait... what did I do? What the sprocking nass did you do? You little... green... GENIUS! I have a body!" Wildfire takes a moment to consider his form. Wow! I am even anatomically correct! In your face Ken Doll! Oh and Brainy, as to why I do the things I do... simple. Chicks love scars. And a good story. A man with both... well, tell you what, we'll go drinking some time." Wildfire grins as he begins to flex.

"I didn't," he mumbled. "I really didn't. It wasn't me. This isn't-- I need to--"

He frowned. "Collating."

Querl shook his head. "Ordinarily I would be here making jokes at your expense regarding the prospects of 'pounding back' silverales when you have neither a) an esophagus nor b) a liver. And yet. Here we find ourselves."

"Brainy, this guy has a whole lot more than an esophagus. I am ripped. I am lean, I am tall... by god, I am a pretty pretty man."

He clawed his fingers through his hair. "'E = mc-squared,'" he muttered furiously, "describes the energy contained in matter. Mass multiplied by the square of the speed of light, enormous energies. And yet. And yet. Newton. As early as Newton, even the feeble minds of Earth suspected that the process goes both ways. Matter into energy. And energy into matter. Given sufficient quantity of energy... your plasmic anti-energy form emulates matter. Simulated crystalline lattice structure. Like... hardlight. (Mind over matter making matter, you're arranging your own energies into a far more elaborate version of your usual construct, you just needed to have enough energies at your disposal and that detonation. Well. That was a lot of energy.)"

Brainiac cupped his chin in his palm. "Perhaps the x-factor of poor Quantum Queen's dispersal in the vicinity has had a quantum chromodynamic effect."

He paused. "I'm still. Collating."

"I have an idea of my own. Thing is, Energy needs Matter. Matter needs Energy. They are linked by more then just the laws of physics. It is almost like a sacred decree. I think the special piece of the puzzle is actually the type of energy I absorbed. I absorbed an anti-matter reaction. I think that the anti-matter bonded to my anti-energy. Giving my a material form once more. Course, I am only a shaved ape so not like I would know anything scientifically useful."

But then he blinked, and refocused, and arched a golden eyebrow up his verdant forehead. "But you weren't engaging in jocularity regarding your anatomical correctness. Perhaps at last we have a challenger for that ridiculous legend surrounding the--"

He paused.

He couldn't believe he was going to say it.

He made the quotes with his fingers, and sighed dismally: "'Lightning Rod.'"

Wildfire grinned. Oh and what a grin it was. Brainy, got a towel or something? I would like to go say hello to everyone, let them know I am okay. But I don't want to cause all the ladies to swoon, especially not that hot little Kryptonian number o' yours."

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang - Legion Headquarters

"Have boys ever plied you with the line," she cautioned, "'your mouth says "no" but your body says "yes?"'"

“No boys have ever tried plying me with lines. It would be unseemly.”

"The automated systems have recognized your transponder code, but they've also analyzed your weapons. Your ident says 'yes' but your worldbusters say 'no.'

"We're late. Things have started without us. And they may not take kindly to you. I'm sure you can handle it. Defuse. Swords into ploughshares, here, not the other way around."

There is no emotion, without peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
Where there is chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Truth.

Onboard sensors detected the motion long before they become visible. Computations constantly adjusting. Building a wire frame image for her to view. Seismic tremors undetectable to a human were registered. Air flow patterns altered.

And as the four entered the room computations and imagery altered again. Some computations flashed. Mass counter-indicative of proportions. Heavy worlders.

The four of them entered the lobby and saw the armoured warrioress standing there.

M'onel could feel the three women thrumming behind him, their energy levels tremendous. But the energy levels of the woman before him were excruciating in their own right.

He could feel the shiver in Tasmia's breathing, could hear the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

He took point. If this armoured woman tried anything, he stood the best chance of deflecting it so that lightning or quanta or darkforce could counterstrike.

He put his hands on his hips, the blue cape flourishing around him.

"Forgive the chilly reception," he began, addressing Allana. "You're catching us at a bit of a bad time. What can we do for you?"

In silence Allana prayed for peace. In silence she prayed that this meeting would not go badly. That she would be guided by Truth, Honour, and Justice.

But as she spoke her words became more and more audible. A whisper at the edge of consciousness. A sigh. A softly spoken word. Slowly creeping forward into the audible human range.


“…Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff--they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

“For Truth, Honour, and Justice.”

“Amen.”

Kneeling in place her armour shimmered across the spectrum of metals. Gold. Silver. Platinum. Brighter and brighter. Until at last it was nearly a pure incandescent light. A light that was slowly obscured by a darkness that creeped in along the edges. Black armour adored with a single white star between her breasts.

Reaching up she knelt as if she held a shield. And with a soft snap of energy a shield was on her armour. A shield adored like her armour. A field of blackest night with a single white light in the center of all things.

From with her helm she spoke to the man. “I am Celestial Knight Allana Lang of the House of Kent of the Kingdom of the Isles Principality Callsign: Magdalena. By the will of the Holy See, I am assigned to assist you in any and all matters that I am able.”

“How may I serve?”

 

[ChasNicollette]

Element Lad, Lightning Lad, Powergirl. Medbay.

As the Durlan shifted and was lifting her to her bed the Havenite looked at Jan and said with just a hint of humor and something strangely exotic with just a hint of eroticism in her eye "I think you misunderstand me Philosopher."

Dawnstar was a fascinating creature. She could express more with a simple eye-smoulder than most "civilized" sentients could with an entire expression. And that hint. That eroticism. Was not lost on him.

He was removed enough from that particular frame of reference that it did not... move... him, the way it might have moved a different variety of man. But he saw it there nevertheless, and it brought a serenely sardonic echo of her smoulder to smirk itself across his lips.

"As in all things, Seeker-Finder, I crave enlightenment. Enlighten me."

"Jan, my people have a series of quotes from our colony ships data banks. One of them comes to mind. "If you kill them they won't learn nothing." I believe it was."

(Garth blinked. "Oh, man, I've totally heard that one before. That's sprocking-- oh, man, that's gonna bug me.")

The glint in her eye became less humorous "I intend on bringing her justice. I plan on blinding that eye of hers, leaving her broken and crippled, and then throw her into the deepest pit of Takron Galtos."

"Perhaps you understand me, also," Jan murmured.

Violet stayed quiet as Damnstar said this. And just as quietly she reached out and hit Dawnstar in the neck with a hypo spray full of tranquilizers. The Apache girl started and began to try to turn on Violet with indignation and outrage in her eyes.

Salu Digby met Dawnstar's eyes and said "If you keep tensing up like that you're going to hurt yourself more. Sleep it off, and if you can behave when you wake up I will let you stay awake."

Rage filled Dawnstar's eyes for the half second it took for the tranq to take effect. Her eyes then fluutered for a second and then she drifted out of conciousness.

Jan placed his hand gently on Dawnstar's forehead. "I said that you would not fly alone. And I meant it. Whether you flew down the vector that led you to vengeance, or the vector that led you to justice. We would be with you. We would be at your side. You would not have been alone. Nor will you be."

"I find the terrestrial concept of 'an eye for an eye' to be, shall we say, short-sighted."

"But to abandon you in the hour of your greatest need, your hour of greatest direst darkest ire?"

"That would be a sin indeed."

"Regain your strength. The skies are waiting."

"Did anyone else find that act of femchismo as annoying as I did?

"Little bit," Caroline smiled sadly, grimly. "I mean, how's she going to win against the bad guys if she kills herself for them?"

She paused, though. And glanced down at the symbol on her chest.

"Then again. Can't say as I might not have done the same thing, if I'd been in her 'buckskins.'"

"'Broken wings heal in time,'" Garth grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Grife, what is that from?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Brainiac. The Lab.

Wildfire grinned. Oh and what a grin it was. Brainy, got a towel or something? I would like to go say hello to everyone, let them know I am okay. But I don't want to cause all the ladies to swoon, especially not that hot little Kryptonian number o' yours."

Brainiac crossed his arms over his chest. "Couldn't resist the attoscopic rebarbative, hmm, you thrasonical little pharos? Good heavens. I should just lock you away in this armour I've forged for you, let this be your Dumasian 'iron mask.' Let this be your iron maiden whilst within you burn yourself in effigy forever."

He shook his head, frowned, hmphed. "She is no mere number. Unless you count pi. Infinite in elegance and complexity."

He trailed off, staring to nowhere. "It really is infinite, you know. Pi. I've checked."

But with a blink of green eyes, he returned his focus to the present.

And a faint little smirk adorned his lips. "But let's look at it this way. Hypothesis: your notion about your now being a mix of anti-matter and anti-energy is correct. Result: attempting to wreathe yourself in Egyptian cotton will only result in annihilating said Egyption cotton and making a mess of this particular laboratory. The moment I drop the suspension field, you are subject to these laws of physics I've heard so much about. A Qwardian in a china shop, so to speak. The exception, of course, is if I do cinch you up in the use-weave, in which I have installed perpetual force-membranes to keep you from actually making contact with the molecules of the flexsuit."

His hands went into the pockets of his lab coat. "Tell me, Wildfire. Are you so eager to have the x-chromosomes perlustrate your physicality and to rejoinder their supposedly inevitable swooning with nictated eye that you are willing to inflict further damage on this building and your own presently saprogenic reputation?"

 

[Lunaramblings]

"Well geez Brainy, when you put it like that... So not even one little snog? Just a bit? Damn. Just my luck. I finally get my form back and I can't touch anything... Or anyone." Wildfire frowns and rolls his eyes as he looks at Brainy. "Fine look, we do this your way for now. But we keep working on it alright? I guy has needs ya know. Even if that guy is a sentient mass of sentient anti-energy."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Wraith

Seeing Mer, even if it was just a projection of him, was still a shock.

"Jonah, stop it!" I said, standing and walking over to the window overlooking the courtyard. "No, I am not the same man that watched you grow from a baby to the man you are now. I have been fighting a war for ten thousand years. I have killed, over and over again. Angels, Demons, Fae and anything else that sought to take me down and my lands. I have eradicated the threat of the Ravagers when Lucifer released them upon the weeping plains, though they were called the Golden Lands then. Remember the movie Alien? Cameron almost got them right. Dreamers sometimes brush up against things that are better left unknown." I drained the last of my glass and sat it down on the windowsill.

"Throughout all the centuries, I have never taken a human life, and I would not do so lightly, but if my hand is forced, I could do it. (It would kill the last human part of my soul, but I could do it. Oh Rose, you were my soul..)" I said the last part in a whisper.

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

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