Last Daughter of Krypton: Legion IC

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang - Dormitory Levels/Residential.

“Life is meaningless without Purpose. My purpose is the Truth. And bringing to Justice every spark of darkness in the galaxy.”

“A mechanoid is coming this way. It matches the paramaters of a Mark 4 servitor unit.” Allana said, fingers flexing near the hilt of her blade. If the machine was hostile she’s disassemble it before it fired the first bolter shell.

Enclosed regions and rooms played havoc with blade and shield, but they allowed bolter and lance fire to be focused. Channeled. But she was no squire to be daunted by a challenge of a closed room and a potential hostile.

After all it wouldn’t be the first time a servitor had been sent with death as it’s goal.

 

[AmenRa]

Memories flooded my mind with the mention of that name. The last time I had seen Zod, he had been whisked away, bound in kryptonite by J'onn, and sealed back in his prison of time by Kara soon thereafter.

If Lucifer has chosen Zod to be his vessel in the mortal world, then things were going to be very, very bad. Drakula was born of man and woman, and it had taken everything me, Bruce and Ras Al Gul could do to put him down. Zod would start with the powers of a Kryptonian, and whatever abilities he would gain as a Scion would only make him worse.

"Yeah. We should get J'onn for this." my daughter said, her voice low and quiet.

"Your right, we should. I'll go fetch his jolly green behind, I can't just reach out and grab him like I did you girls. Blood ties mean quite a bit with magic. Your uncle John could explain it, but it would take a few hours, and quite a few pints."
I smiled to myself, remembering the cantankerous old pain in the ass.

"I'll be right back. Liz, why don't you explain to Jaymie where she is and get her a bit up to speed with our little family here." I said, then shadows swirled and I was gone. Seconds later Dirge was back in it's resting place, and a few minutes after That the wards and traps were reset on the blade. Then I focused, and sent my will searching. Once my quarry was found through means of eldrich shadows, I was off, materializing in an office with a very upset martian in it.

"Hello old friend. It is time we talked." I said, looking down at the being that had given birth to legends.

The Martian Manhunter saw the shadows swirl and form, and then Wraith stepped from them. But, J'onn J'onzz was not at all taken aback by this. And, when Wraith made a simple greeting, the Martian nearly smiled.

"Yes, my brother," he answered, "it is time indeed."

The Manhunter stood to his full height, equal to that of Wraith. J'onn's visage had always carried a regal-like quality to it, his features kind, yet impassive, knowing and powerful, yet humble. He looked at Wraith with his red eyes.

"In keeping myself hidden, I have taken great measures to ensure the perpetuation of the Legion of Superheroes," he said to Wraith. "I have left no end unraveled. I have often times stepped beyond normal boundaries of politics to see they succeed. In so doing, I have tried my best to use resources outside certain parameters to see the Legion has the best possible intelligence on our enemies.

"I have done this in secret, covertly, using knowledge only I possess," J'onn explained. "When I first saw you, then Liz, though, I knew there were others now present that had access to resources the same as I. And, upon seeing you, my old friend, I knew that it would not be long until my own secret was revealed. My fear is that once I am known again to the world, my enemies will come."

The Martian Mahunter reached out and carefully laid a hand on the Wraith's armored shoulder. "I have failed in finding the answer to the riddle of the Child of Darkness. And," J'onn began, then stopped as a realization struck him. "Liz is with you in Shadow?"

It made sense, the way she suddenly 'winked out' of telepathic contact. J'onn didn't need a telepathic probe into Wraith's mind to know her whereabouts; this was pure detective instincts. Besides, probing Wraith's mind could prove to be possibly fatal for the Martian Manhunter.

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Wraith

"Aye old friend, my little spitfire is in Shadow, along with Tommy's son Jonah and my granddaughter Jaymie. We need to have a meeting safe from prying eyes and ears, and Shadow is that." I said.

I looked my old friend in his eyes, seeing the weight of centuries in his gaze, and also seeing the gentle man I knew as a child. He, like Kara, Bruce and Diana was an icon that started the Age of Heroes. But this would shock even him.
"I know who the Child of Darkness is, and it could be no darker a being." I paused , the shadows in the room flexing and twisting from my inner turmoil, "It is Zod J'onn, and this time he has all the power of Hell inside him to make worlds kneel before him."

 

[AmenRa]

As the shadows swirled around the office, Wraith's voice gave an even darker countenance to the news he told J'onn.

J'onn looked quickly to where the celestial Ceriel had entered the room. Her presence was not at all unwelcome.

"I know who the Child of Darkness is, and it could be no darker a being." I paused , the shadows in the room flexing and twisting from my inner turmoil, "It is Zod J'onn, and this time he has all the power of Hell inside him to make worlds kneel before him."

The Martian Manhunter took a step back. His red eyes went wide and glowed brightly. He wondered briefly if they could feel the power well up inside him.

"Zod," the Martian Manhunter spat the word as if it tasted bad on his palette. His sandy voice was twisted and dark when he uttered the single syllable. Of all those the Martian Manhunter had brought to justice in his eternity as a peace officer, the one called Zod had the darkest soul he had ever known.

"No," he said. "No. It can not be. He is imprisoned in the Phantom Zone."

But the weight of the news given by Wraith was heavy and true.

The last time J'onn had faced Zod was with the aid of Wraith, Kara Zor-El, Rose, Chloe, Var-Sen, and the others. Zod had nearly killed J'onn by fire, yet the Manhunter survived, and eventually learned to control his fear of flame. J'onn himself had seen that Zod was sent to the Phantom Zone.

General Zod had been a renegade military leader on Krypton. It had not always been so. When J'onn was first appointed as Chief Lawgiver, Zod was a hero. It had been he who had led the assault that had driven Black Zero back into the icy wastes beyond the dome. Zod had been a respected leader and a friend of Zor-El.

But, that changed. Zod's lust for power became apparent, and a long-mounted anger for any rule other than his surfaced. His army, ever loyal, followed him to their deaths or imprisonment when he attempted a coup against the Ruling Council. His soldiers were as fanatical about him as he was about himself. They followed the megalomaniac wherever he commanded; they knelt before him as a sign of their submission and respect.

J'onn J'onzz arrested Zod and brought him before the Council, where Zor-El acted as Chief Prosecutor.

For that, Zod had vowed revenge on the Martian Manhunter, just as he had all of Krypton, Zor-El, and anyone who was of the House of El. He even spoke as much before he was cast into the Phantom Zone.

There was no way out of the Zone, save for one who carried the blood of the House of El in their veins to open the gate from within the Zone itself.

Unless, of course, Zod did not escape.

Unless he was set free.

J'onn centered himself and took a deep breath. "Then take me to Shadow, my friend, so that we may make plans for battle. Afterwards, I would ask you and the others to accompany me to speak to the Legion. They are away now, rallying to quell an off-world prison break, but when they return, they must be warned and prepared for the inevitable war that will rage when Zod makes his presence known."

A passage from an old, old text surfaced in the Martian Manhunter's mind, and he thought it so Ceriel, whom would understand, could hear him.

'And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him'

 

[ChasNicollette]

M'onel. Dormitory Levels/Residential.

“Life is meaningless without Purpose. My purpose is the Truth. And bringing to Justice every spark of darkness in the galaxy.”

M'onel pondered this. "Life may have less meaning without Purpose, m'lady. But it is hardly meaningless. Life is its own Purpose. Life is its own Way, its own Truth. Life is its own Justice."

"All anyone gets is a lifetime. Some get longer than others, some get no time at all. But everyone gets a lifetime. And is that not Just?"

He tilted his head, smiling faintly. "Listen to me, I sound like an old man. I used to rip on my dad for being so pompous; now I'm just echoes of his voice."

“A mechanoid is coming this way. It matches the paramaters of a Mark 4 servitor unit.” Allana said, fingers flexing near the hilt of her blade.

His eyes, impossibly blue, blue like suns that shine cold, narrowed ever-so-slightly, focused on the hand at the hilt.

"Please try to relax," he smirked faintly, ever-so-faintly, like the ever-so-slight narrowing of his eyes. "I won't let him hurt you."

The autobutler, indeed, very much a custom variant of the Mark IV Servitor, trundled up, fixing its cool red eyes first upon Allana, and then upon Lar, and then upon Allana.

"This is the autobutler," M'onel explained. "Or, well, one of him. Mister Brande sometimes calls him 'Alfred,' I'm not sure why."

Her sensors would detect the servitor unit scanning her, putting her identity on file and corroborating that identity with the securitech in the lobby.

"Name?" it requested, cool and brisk.

"Celestial Knight Allana Lang of The House of Kent," M'onel intoned, easily enough. "Callsign 'Magdalena.' Membership pending eval."

"Noted," it replied, and turned and plugged its interface prong into one of the keypads by one of the dorm-room doors. After a few instants, it deactivated this interface.

"Room assigned. Passcode may be programmed at your leisure, Magdalena."

It swiveled to face her. "Foodservice?"

Lar gestured to the robot with a soft smile. "Tell Alfred what you want on your sandwich."

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang - Dormitory Levels/Residential.

"Please try to relax," he smirked faintly, ever-so-faintly, like the ever-so-slight narrowing of his eyes. "I won't let him hurt you."

“You won’t let him hurt me?” Allana thought. Sending the Machine spirit on an errand she had it reanalyze the one called M’onel. Was he stronger and faster than he appeared, or just full of Bravado?

The autobutler, indeed, very much a custom variant of the Mark IV Servitor, trundled up, fixing its cool red eyes first upon Allana, and then upon Lar, and then upon Allana.

"This is the autobutler," M'onel explained. "Or, well, one of him. Mister Brande sometimes calls him 'Alfred,' I'm not sure why."

Her sensors would detect the servitor unit scanning her, putting her identity on file and corroborating that identity with the securitech in the lobby.

"Name?" it requested, cool and brisk.

"Celestial Knight Allana Lang of The House of Kent," M'onel intoned, easily enough. "Callsign 'Magdalena.' Membership pending eval."

"Noted," it replied, and turned and plugged its interface prong into one of the keypads by one of the dorm-room doors. After a few instants, it deactivated this interface.

"Room assigned. Passcode may be programmed at your leisure, Magdalena."

It swiveled to face her. "Foodservice?"

Lar gestured to the robot with a soft smile. "Tell Alfred what you want on your sandwich."

“Herdebeast would be preferred. But whatever is available is acceptable. A genetic cross-reference will be needed to confirm nothing I’m provided with is of a mind altering nature. Vows.” She she added by way of explanation, even as the machine-spirit was accessing the door command protocols and was inputting a security rite that would boggle most other machine spirits. After all Allana was wearing one of handful of the most expensive suits of Celestial level armour in the known universe.

A thought and the door was accessed and opened. Sensorium analyzing the contents of the room in the blink of an eye. Chemical and structural compositions. Spatial orientation. Logistical/tactical data.

Sparse. Bare. Empty. Efficient.

Aesthetically… “Pleasing.”

 

[Wyldfire]

Shvaughn, getting parties started.

Imra's team was ready. Shvaughn knew it was time. Time to bring her and Brainiac Fives's baby (Hers conceptually, his in the actual birthing.)online. She tapped the key strokes required and a poly alloy bubble surrounded the console she was at. All comm systems interlinked, status boards and logistics came up on various holoscreens, and a link with the health condition and communications with all rings was formed. A voice spoke to her "Gear system online Officer Erin, complete up link."

Shvaughn swept back her red hair exposing and old school interface jack, reached out with her free hand to take the cable and jack it into her port.

She and the computer voice said as one and heard through all team rings "Gear is Online."

With a thought Shvaughn keyed the threshold portal in the mass port. It was a very token request immediately answered by U.P. Central. Simultaneously she took control of the Cruiser bound for Takron Galtos and it's thrusters fired, lifting it inches off the deck. The portal opened. "Godspeed Saturn girl, return safe and sound."

The cruiser nudged forward entering the portal. As the cruiser arrived in orbit of Takron Galtos she returned control to the piloting console. "Good luck Legionnaires."

Shvaughn turned her attention back to her second task. "Brainiac Five, have you cracked that code yet or do you wish for me to do so?" That ought to get him in the game she thought to herself.

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Legion Shuttle

Imra watched the drama unfold, then deflate as the women went to their separate ways. Maybe, just maybe, they would get through this mission without slagging each other.

She monitored the systems as the cruiser launched on remote, until it was released into Galtos orbit.

"Godspeed Saturn girl, return safe and sound."


"Roger that Watchtower. We will be home soon."

 

[Wyldfire]

Jo. Setting the scene.

The ship lifted and entered the threshold. As control was returned in low orbit of Takron Galtos Jo went to the lower hatch and cycled the lock. She needed to be outside in the worst way. She knew the Pax would drop all but ten percent, but the remaining ten would be in overdrive. Jo needed that.

"Saturn girl, I'm going to go outside to fly vanguard for the cruiser, I'd recommend Tas for weapons." she said as she cycled the other side of the lock.

Exiting the ship she let her transsuit do the heavy lifting along with her flight ring and switched to Penetra vision. Scanning about she saw pockets of open combat. The S.P.s needed help. "The guards are being hammered here. Orders, or do you want my recommendations? Your call."

Jo realized how that sounded even to her. "And no the Pax hasn't gotten to me."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Imra

"The guards are being hammered here. Orders, or do you want my recommendations? Your call."

"Take them down Jo. Yell if you need help, otherwise you know the territory better than we do, so do what you deem necessary. I trust you."

Jo needed to bust some heads and work off some steam. Hell, they all did.

"Jenn, Shady, get on the guns until we hit dirtside. Tinya, I want you to coordinate with the SP's on the roundup, and Alya, Shady & I will hit the worst areas and pacify those. Jenn, I want you to beat your ping pong record down here. We are going to need intelligence first, so recon the planet and tell us where the really bad bad guys are and if they are organizing. Lets do this ladies"

Saturn Girl got her game face on. This group may have been fracturing before takeoff, but damnit, she was a founder, and it would NOT break on her watch!

 

[ChasNicollette]

Ceriel. Brande's quarters.

As the shadows swirled around the office, Wraith's voice gave an even darker countenance to the news he told J'onn.

J'onn looked quickly to where the celestial Ceriel had entered the room. Her presence was not at all unwelcome.

Her scarlet eyes met his. And she nodded respect.

He was Hunter. She was Defender. And both of them were Guardians.

"Zod," the Martian Manhunter spat the word as if it tasted bad on his palette. His sandy voice was twisted and dark when he uttered the single syllable. Of all those the Martian Manhunter had brought to justice in his eternity as a peace officer, the one called Zod had the darkest soul he had ever known.

"No," he said. "No. It can not be. He is imprisoned in the Phantom Zone."

J'onn centered himself and took a deep breath. "Then take me to Shadow, my friend, so that we may make plans for battle. Afterwards, I would ask you and the others to accompany me to speak to the Legion. They are away now, rallying to quell an off-world prison break, but when they return, they must be warned and prepared for the inevitable war that will rage when Zod makes his presence known."

A passage from an old, old text surfaced in the Martian Manhunter's mind, and he thought it so Ceriel, whom would understand, could hear him.

'And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him'

"Thanatos," Ceriel murmured, though she lingered in the shadows. "Also, Apollyon, Abaddon, The Destroyer, whose name means: 'to perish.'"

Her wings seethed with the drawing of her breath, her wings, big and dark, as if sculpted from the formless void that was The Earth before it was remade.

"And to think," she muttered, the beautiful vowels of her Welsh accent shaped by a supernatural voice, "back in Sunday School I frowned on getting bent out of shape on the particulars of eschatology, because we'd never know what prophetic metaphors really meant until we lived them. 'As the Lord wills,' I said, 'not as mere minds conjecture.'"

"Now here I am."

"Living it."

"God help us all."

 

[ChasNicollette]

M'onel. Magdalena's quarters.

The scan would reveal Daxamite physiology, essentially Kryptonian in origin, the same eight-chambered heart, the same conductive organelles for heat-vision production, the same enhanced regions of the brain for handling enhanced sensory input, the same dichotomous metabolism combining solar-energy consumption when available with the digestion of food when necessary. He had increased molecular density, a nigh-impenetrable bio-electric force aura, and even an ability to modulate his own gravity.

The primary difference between Kryptonians and Daxamites was that, while Kryptonians were vulnerable to certain bands of mineral radiation-- particularly those emitted by the various breeds of Kryptonite --Daxamites were instead acutely chemically vulnerable to the element lead. The reason for this bifurcation was lost to ancient history, but M'onel was able to survive in environments with trace atmospheric lead-- such as Earth --by virtue of a serum developed by the local Coluan lad.

CORTANA would be able to discern this easily, given the armour's sensory capabilities. But whether or not the "machine-spirit" revealed as much to Allana, up to and including that genetic match, well, that was up to CORTANA.

“Herdebeast would be preferred. But whatever is available is acceptable. A genetic cross-reference will be needed to confirm nothing I’m provided with is of a mind altering nature. Vows.” She she added by way of explanation.

"Compliance," the autobutler replied. "Accessing GalCyc files on 'herdebeest.' Will attempt to synthesise. Failing synthesis, will find closest analogue. Engaging pre-emptive biofiltration to eliminate possibility of psychotropic reactants. Adding files to menu preference category: 'religious prohibition.'"

"Thank you," M'onel nodded to the autobutler.

"Compliance," the autobutler repeated, and whisked itself away.

A thought and the door was accessed and opened.

She appeared to peer inside, and M'onel watched her quietly.

Aesthetically… “Pleasing.”

M'onel peered past her, and he nodded quietly. "You like it? Home away from home. Feel free to, ah, decorate, as you like. I'm sure the GalCyc files and the omnicom libraries will have any, ah, religious iconography you'd want."

He smiled faintly. "They tend to like bright primary colors where I come from. Hence, the, ah, gaudy outfit. But you can keep your room as drab and as spartan as you see fit."

Lar paused, and pointed out to the hallway with a thumb. "Well. Did you want to relax? Maybe slip into something more comfortable, get a little downtime before we go charging off into the fire and steel?"

"I can just wait out in the hall, maybe send Alfred in when he gets back?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Phantom Girl, Shadow Lass, Lightning Lass. The Cruiser and The Galtos.

Just like that. They were in orbit.

Ninety percent of the population were as docile as lambs.

But the rest of them...

Tinya hurried into her transuit, peeling into it and adhering it tightly to white-clad curves and pale skin. Theoretically, she'd be untouchable to The Pax while phased, but if she ever had to become solid down there...

"Finally," Tasmia drawled, bounding from the confines of her quarters. She, too, bound herself up in a trans-suit before snaking down the ladder to the gun turrets. Her fingers curled around the joysticks and her thumbs flexed, her tongue dancing upon her teeth.

"Hello, boys," she purred, but then the cool hard fury of battle began to descend upon her, the awareness and the detachedness, shadows began to play upon the dark cerulean of her skin.

Swiveling the turret, Tasmia kept a watchful eye on the skies and the stars, and glanced continually at the readouts. In particular, she was wary of the prison's own gun emplacements. If these had been taken over by the poisoned maddened convicts, she would have to react swiftly and with prejudice.

Ayla ferreted around in her own belt-pouch, bringing out her own trans-suit, though she was slower in putting it on. She was distracted by the view out through the front of the cockpit, awed.

...closing up the front seam along her chest, Ayla shook her head before pulling the hood closed.

It adhered. A second skin. Almost unnoticeable, except for the arm-band and the controls on the back of the hand.

She nodded to Saturn Girl. "I'm ready."

Phantom Girl smiled faintly. "That's a relative term if ever I've heard one. Take the wheel, Ayla, I'm going to go meet our fans."

And, phasing, the Bgztlian woman dove out through the cockpit's viewports, silking seamless through solid matter.

"That's affirm," Ayla declared, all-business, as she slipped back into her co-pilot's seat, taking firm hold of the controls in case the autopilot dropped out of synch.

Tinya paused, flying in tandem with Ultra Girl for a moment. And her quiet eyes gave Jo a solemn look.

We can do this.

Please. Let us be okay. Just for this. Just for now.

We can do this.

Popping in her telepathic ear-plugs, Tinya interfaced this with her Ring's omnicom.

"Warden," she declared, "Science Police, this is Phantom Girl of The Legion of Superheroes. We're here to help. I'm to co-ordinate with local authorities in rounding up freed cons, but first we need a place to land. Is there an optimal location for our planetfall, or should we have the dreadnought that is Ultra Girl make an optimal location?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

VM3, GL 2261, The Doctor. Shadow.

Jaymie gazed quietly at The Doctor, scrutinised him. "You didn't answer my question."

She glanced at Green Lantern. "He didn't answer my question."

Eyelids at half-mast, Liz regarded The Doctor coolly. "It's his way."

The Doctor rose, and he smiled faintly at Liz, hands in his pockets. "'Major plot developments.'"

Liz harrumphed. "'Spoilers.'"

The Doctor grew quiet, and earnest, and serious. "I don't make the rules. I just... bend them sometimes. When I can. When it'll help."

Liz nodded, assenting to that, if reluctantly. "'That which does not bend, must break.'"

"So," Jaymie pondered, "if you're not human, uh, Mister, ah, Doctor?"

The Doctor swung his gaze to Jaymie. "Just, 'The Doctor.' Or just 'Doctor.' It's not an honorific; it's not a surname; it's what I'm called."

"Right," Jaymie kept going, indicating Liz, "if you're not human, Doctor, and you're her grand-dad, does that mean she's not human either? And if you're my ancestor, by like, this huge number of generations, does that mean I'm not completely human?"

"More complicated than that," Liz shook her head.

"I was human at the time," The Doctor explained. "My name was James. Jamie. It's this-- it's this whole thing. But I wasn't an alien, I was human. Well, metahuman. An unexpected wrinkle. Long, long, long boring story, I might actually die of old age if I stayed here and told it, and that would be something. And while I was human, completely oblivious to my real true background, I met a fantastic woman. She was my bodyguard, I was her long-lost pal."

"Paul Simon," Jaymie supplied easily, "'angels in the architecture.'"

The Doctor smirked. "Exactly. Anyhoodle, we fell madly in love, as you do, and we married, had a brilliant daughter, she had a metagene, too, inherited it from me. Her name was... her name was Rose."

He paused, at that, and looked pained. Memory was a funny thing. Seeping through even intentional obliviousness.

"She was like you," Liz murmured. "So much like you it almost hurts."

"I don't mean to be," Jaymie gazed, apologetic, wincing.

"There's such a thing as genetic memory," Liz acknowledged. "Maybe this is metagenetic memory."

The Doctor mulled this over. "Not a bad thought."

He shook his head. "Anyway, she, in turn, Rosy, when she was, erm, small, she moved to a little town called Smallville, where ten years later she got superpowers, wonder-thing powers activate, and then met a lad named Kyle."

"Wraith," Jaymie connected, and again looked at Liz. "Your dad. And king of this... place."

"Precisely," Liz nodded firmly. "They fell in love, they did, became inseparable. And they grew up friends with the most amazing people. Including... her."

Jaymie hesitated. "Her."

The Doctor chuckled softly. "This was Smallville, remember. Meteor Capital of The World, everyone's got a secret in their storm-cellar. Yes, her."

Liz bowed her head reverently. "The most important woman ever to have lived."

The Doctor nodded. "If The Universe survives what's coming, if you live to usher in the next paradigm shift, and that's a pretty big if... 823 centuries from now, they'll still be singing Hosannas in her name."

He smiled, he smiled a beaming smile. "Just you wait. Just you wait and see."

"Not for nothing," Liz pointed out, "is my middle name 'Kara.'"

"They were friends with The Tennylsons, too," The Doctor gestured to Jonah and to the manifestation of Merick. "Again, we find that some things never change. It's like we were... waiting for this. All of us. If not individuals, then bloodlines. We're all coming out of the woodwork of history to band together against this threat, epic win or epic fail, all together now."

"He was human, too," Liz explained further. "When he... sired us. Myself and my sister and my brother. He had to be. Completely human. But our mother, my mother, she still had that metagene, and that got passed down to us, and the metagene is environment as well as inheritance; our father's might still influenced our eventual powers. My sister Ceri got the same powers as you-- the same powers as Rose --my brother Alec had shadow powers, and I--"

She chuckled wryly. "All I got was the power to survive. I age ten years for every thousand, give or take, and I heal quickly. Not that I'm complaining. I got taken away. I'm back now. And I couldn't be happier to find that my family lives on."

"I've always loved learning," Jaymie mumbled, "about my family, about my history, my inheritance. But there's so much I never realised, bits and pieces, all gobbled up before they could be cobbled together."

She folded her hands in her lap, and stared at them. "It's a Hell of a burden. Keeping these memories alive. Family and-and-and friends, such friends, you were friends with her."

"Don't look at it like that," The Doctor suggested, smiling a gentle, encouraging smile. "You said you listened to... stories, is that right?"

Jaymie nodded quickly. "Yeah."

"You're part of a story, Jaymie Greystone," The Doctor intoned, like a declaration, like an invocation, like a benediction. "One that isn't over yet."

"Just you wait and see."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Aztek, Matter-Eater Lad. The Academy.

Montauk Point, Metropolis, Kansas.
70 Miles East of Legion Headquarters.​

Cuatro Falconer was doing push-ups.

His dirty blond hair hung around his face, rivulets of sweat gathered and dripped onto the floor beneath his face.

"10,001," he wheezed, "10,002."

His jaw cricked with determination.

"You're totally making that up, dude," his room-mate suggested, dubious. "Or are you just numbering them according to how many it feels like?"

"Been at this all morning," Cuatro wheezed, without missing a beat, "10,003."

Tenzil Kem, Junior, arched a black eyebrow over the lenses of his ever-present sunglasses, took another spoonful from his bowl as he sat on his bed, watching Cuatro. "Sprock, son. It's too bad super-aerobics aren't enough to get you into The Legion proper, you'd have it nailed."

Cuatro flopped onto his back, exhausted, panting, his hands clutching helplessly at the air. "Tell me about it."

Tenzil eyed the golden, stylised helmet that sat on Cuatro's bed on the opposite side of the room. "So you inherited this thingy from, like, pre-colonial South America, magical telepathic helmet with a four-dimensional power source, gives you crazy knowledge and all sorts of sweet super-powers. Plus you got that... that one thingy you do."

"Don't want to talk about that," Cuatro reminded Tenzil.

"Right, right, my bad," Tenzil gestured with the spoon, dismissive, took another scoop out of the bowl. "Anyhow, on top of this, you were raised in some monastery by this 'Q' Bunch--"

"The Q Collective," Cuatro corrected. "Formerly The Q Foundation, formerly The Q Group, and so on and so forth."

"Geeze," Tenzil scoffed, with his mouth full, chewing noisily. "You sure super-nitpicking ain't a power?"

Cuatro sat up, rubbed his sleeve across his forehead, wiping the sweat away. "Sorry. Sorry."

Tenzil gestured to Cuatro with his bowl. "Me, I got a pretty limited power-base. I can eat a buffet's worth of ferrocrete soup, extra chunky, with inertron croutons, and still have room for more. I eat like a mamasprocker. But you-- how did they ever thumb you down for The Big LSH?"

"Two reasons," Cuatro held up two fingers, rueful. "First of all, Legionnaires are supposed to be ambassadors, right? Representatives of The U.P. I don't know the first thing about people on other planets; I was raised in seclusion in the Andes, and while my helmet gives me the knowledge of all my predecessors, all those predecessors got raised in seclusion in the Andes, too. So, talking to Durlans and to Khunds and to Hykraians, I'd kind of be out of my depth. By itself, I guess they could have worked around that. But that wasn't the only thing.

"Second of all," Cuatro continued, "I kind of flubbed the background check."

"What background?" Tenzil frowned. "See also: raised in monastery."

Cuatro harrumphed bitterly. "Money makes the worlds go 'round. And, well, The Q Collective had to get its money from somewhere, so they sought out corporate sponsors."

Tenzil slid his shades down his nose and he gawked at Cuatro. "Oh, you are sprocking with me."

"I wish," Cuatro chuckled faintly. "They got funding from McCauley. So, until Brande's lawyers can dig through the paperwork and make sure I'm not contractually beholden to that corrupt industrialist, I'm side-lined. I can't even go on field trips."

"Wondered," Tenzil nodded, drinking down the rest of his soup and then chewing absent-mindedly on the spoon. "Figured the whole Steeple dealio was right up your monastic alley, wondered why you didn't go along with Magic Boy and Little Miss Homicidal Psycho Jungle Cat."

"Now you know," Cuatro replied, wearily.

"And knowing is half the battle," Tenzil agreed philosophically, and, having finished the spoon, took a thoughtful bite out of the bowl.

But then the golden helmet on Cuatro's bed started chirping.

As one, Cuatro and Kem stared at it, blinking.

And then it talked: 'Multiple trans-spacial power sources detected.'

'Multiple trans-spacial power sources detected.'

'Multiple trans-spacial power sources detected.'

"Uh," Tenzil wondered, eloquently. "Why is your funny hat talking to itself?"

Cuatro shot to his feet, and hurried to the window, hauling open the curtains with a grunt.

...just in time...

...just in time...

...to see three massive streaks of emerald light haul nass past the Academy tower and churn right on on on towards the centre of Metropolis.

Tenzil was behind him in an instant, his shades almost falling off, dangling from one ear. "Jumping fish-hooks!"

 

[ChasNicollette]

"Right, then," Brainiac declared, fists on hips, "if that's quite everything?"

He glanced at Caroline almost with apology for a moment, but the rest of them, the rest of them, it was nothing but contempt.

"Apparently," he grunted, jerking his thumb in Wildfire's direction, "I have to teach ERG-1 how to speak again."

Caroline nodded easily. "Yeah, don't worry, we got what we came for. You do your thing."

Rond, too, nodded, despite brave declarations and oaths of longevity, he again looked a little overwhelmed. "Of course. We'll just. Uh. Show ourselves the door."

Oblivious, Garth snapped his fingers in front of Wildfire's new visor. "Me an' 'Fire kinda talk alike. Maybe I can give him elocution lessons?"

Brainiac harrumphed. "If you must."

...while Querl was distracted, Caroline gave Rond a gentle push in the direction of the door.

"Better motor," she reminded him.

"Yeah, we'd better," Rond agreed.

And the door wssshed shut behind them.

Caroline smiled faintly to herself. She wondered if she shouldn't have kissed Querl on the cheek to tell him she was leaving.

But he was such a busy man. She didn't want to distract him.

********​

She copied the transmission and keyed her Com. "Brainiac Five, please forgive the intrusion but I am sending you a broadcast I just caught being transmitted to the Empress' ship."

She hung her head as she finished, "I have to admit it's more than I can handle. Could you please consider putting this on the highest priority? This encryption smells of Tharok, I need to know as soon as possible what the message is before I can make any recommendations for team deployment. I don't want to see Rokk feed too small a team to do the job on the Witch."

The commlink chirped and Querl was sorely tempted to throw a brick of synthetic Valorium at it. But he had a lot of respect for Shvaughn, as humans went. She'd helped him incorporate a Kusanagi interface with Linsnarian technorganics into the primary control deck, the closest he'd gotten to duplicating the sheer unadulterated joy of The Coluan Group-Mind since...

Well. Since.

So he listened. And, suddenly ignoring Garth and Wildfire, he walked over to where he'd left his PD3.

And he cued up the transmission. He watched it scroll past, innumerable numerals.

"Interesting."

"My encryption software hasn't yet surpassed giga-q-bit," he tutted. "But it seems... that this... it has to be Tharok... he's upgraded to tera-q-bit."

His mind was racing. His pupils were dialated.

There was sweat on his palms. (Unseemly. Unsanitary.)

"Interesting."

"Processing."

"Processing."

"Processing."

Draping an arm over Wildfire's armoured shoulder, Garth rubbed his own chin with a thumb-tip. "Don't you hate it when people forget you're in the room? I totally think we should melvin him while he's got his forcefield down; it's a moral imperative."

She and the computer voice said as one and heard through all team rings "Gear is Online."

Brainiac glanced absently at his Ring. "Gear is Online."

And then returned his attention to the PD3.

"Processing."

Shvaughn turned her attention back to her second task. "Brainiac Five, have you cracked that code yet or do you wish for me to do so?" That ought to get him in the game she thought to herself.

Brainiac's lip quirked. His pupils returned to their normal size.

"Thank you, Gear," he grimaced, though there was a kind of cheerfulness here, interfacing such as she was now, Erin was the closest thing he had to a rival intellect within a dozen parsecs, maybe a hundred. "I think I can unfurl this Gordian Knot. All it needs... is a good hack."

His green green eyes resumed scrolling through the matrices of the code.

"Two power 10 plus or minus hexadecimal q," he began, "correcting to a factor of alpha--"

********​

"So," Rond wondered, not unreasonably, as he walked beside Caroline down the halls of Legion Headquarters. "What now?"

Caroline smirked faintly. "I asked my mom the same thing when I went to the beach as a little girl and my stare suddenly started heat-fusing the sand into glass. 'What now?'"

Rond frowned. "And what did she say?"

Caroline chuckled wryly. "'Only you have the power to decide that.' Which totally made it seem like I had a choice, right? I mean, I've got the powers of The Legendary Supergirl, I'm descended from The House of El, what choice did I really have? You inherit a legacy, right, there's not really anything you can do. Except make the best of it."

Rond managed a faint smile. "At least your legacy's only a thousand years old."

"Sure," Caroline harrumphed, shrugging, "if you date it back from Supergirl. But if you factor in all of Krypton--"

"Huh," Rond nodded. "Take your point."

Caroline's lip quirked, and she regarded Rond sidelong. "Still. The Green Lantern Corps' been around, what, a million years?"

"Three billion," Rond replied, a little dismally.

"Fuck," Caroline shook her head. "That's a legacy and a half. And I thought my family was old-fashioned."

"Hence the, uh," Rond mumbled, "cusswords."

Caroline grinned. "Hence."

Rond opened his mouth to speak again, but suddenly--

--suddenly his Ring, his Power Ring, it started--

*Dleedleedleedleedlee...*

He stared at it. Caroline stared at it.

"Why's it--?" Rond started, "I didn't touch any-- is it self-destructing? Can they do that?"

Caroline frowned. "I don't know, I haven't a clue, maybe you should give it to me, I could hold it in both hands, muffle the explosion--"

...but then something caught her ear, and she whirled to face in the direction of Legion Plaza, the front side of the building. Her eyes refocused, she had to squint hard, try and go on instinct.

"Um," she hesitated. "I think you have a visitor. Or, uh, three."

Rond went pale. "Oh. Right."

Caroline winced. "You want me to try and head them off at the pass, give you time to regroup? It's been five minutes since I've punched something in the face with both fists, I'm about due."

Rond evaluated this for a moment.

"No," he decided, standing tall. "I can do this."

And he took off at a run. He ran, and he jumped and he flew...

He pointed his Power Ring ahead of him, and he squared his jaw. Fourth-dimensional shift, think four-dimensionally, you saw Green Lantern do this, you've seen Bgztlians do this, it's exactly the same thing...

His Ring flashed.

Green plasma poured out of the Ring and spilled back over him, swathing in an aura...

His eyes scrunched nearly shut. Four-dee four-dee four-dee...

He passed harmlessly through two walls and a window and he soared out into the air over Legion Plaza.

And there waiting for him were three gleaming silver giants.

Dressed in modified Green Lantern uniforms.

They were levitating in space and they were staring him down with cold metal eyes.

He braked to a halt in mid-air and his mask lenses widened with his eyes.

"Uh. Hi, there."

Behind Rond, he heard the sound of exploding glass-- "Ow, fuck!" --Caroline had stuck with him, but she hadn't had the advantage of that four-dimensional shift.

She screeched to a halt beside him, breathing hard, flicking bits of pane out of her hair. "Who are these guys supposed to be, anyway?"

"Designation," one of the robots replied. "Fists of The Guardians. Scan verification: Powergirl, Legionnaire, Daughter of Krypton. Scan verification: Rond Vidar, Prospective Green Lantern Cadet, Sector 2814. Request location: Elizabeth Kara Greystone, Green Lantern 2261."

Rond tried to find his tongue and then, having found that, tried to make it make words. "Um. Her? She had to go to a... she had a meeting? Said she'd be back, though. I could... take a message?"

The three Fists of The Guardians exchanged an unreadable look.

One of them extended a silversteel hand, palm upwards, and into the air above that palm flickered to life a sea-green projection of a Guardian of The Universe.

'Rond Vidar,' the projection scowled. 'It seems you have been prematurely equipped.'

Rond glanced at his Power Ring. "Oh, right, the, uh, 'training wheels.' Miz Greystone said something about... Stewart? The Mosaic? He gave Rings to kids?"

Another of The Fists extended a hand, another projection flickered to life. 'This is a dubious precedent. Stewart was admonished for deputising without authorisation.'

The third Fist extended its hand, and it, too, projected a Guardian. 'Did we not later award Lantern Stewart 2814.2 the status of an honourary Guardian for his handling of The Mosaic? Perhaps following in his footsteps is something to be encouraged.'

The other two Guardians, all three physically indistinguishable, frowned at the third.

'You have been listening to Ganthet again,' the second opined.

'And what of it?' the third Guardian scoffed.

'Regardless,' the first Guardian dismissed, 'the imitations hardly ended there. 2261 has also imitated Hal Jordan, 2814.1, at his lowest ebb--'

"The Empress had drained her power," Rond cut in. "Miz Greystone needed to recharge to save lives, and she left her battery at home."

'2814.1,' the third Guardian pointed out, 'drew a charge off of a Guardian projection so as to continue a dark path-- from which he was later redeemed --of using his Ring of Power for personal gain. It seems that 2261 was attempting to continue selfless defence of innocent lives and the enforcement of galactic justice. I don't need to remind you, Brothers, what a threat The Empress poses.'

"It was the same thing," Caroline pointed out, firmly, fists at her side as she hovered high high in the sky with the Three Fists and Teen Lantern. "She gave him a back-up Ring for the same reason. To save lives and be all protective. And he did such a good job of it, first time out, he totally got proposed for Legion membership!"

The three Guardians and their Fists exchanged inscrutable glances.

'This bears further investigation,' the first Guardian eventually declared.

'Accepted,' agreed the third.

'Our proxies will wait here,' proposed the second, 'in this plaza, until 2261's return, and pending her own explanation of her actions. Until then, maintain the ideals of The Corps and your deputisation will remain... unrevoked.'

"Yes sirs," Rond nodded, shakily. "Thank you, sirs."

The Fists of The Guardians descended from on high, landing in the very centre of Legion Plaza. There, they stood, in a triune posture, powering down and becoming unmoving metal statues.

They stood. And waited.

Rond let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Caroline slung him another sidelong look. "Well. Uh. That could've gone worse."

Rond just shook his head in disbelief. "Fuck."

 

[Wyldfire]

"Take them down Jo. Yell if you need help, otherwise you know the territory better than we do, so do what you deem necessary. I trust you."

Tinya hurried into her transuit, peeling into it and adhering it tightly to white-clad curves and pale skin. Theoretically, she'd be untouchable to The Pax while phased, but if she ever had to become solid down there...

Ayla ferreted around in her own belt-pouch, bringing out her own trans-suit, though she was slower in putting it on. She was distracted by the view out through the front of the cockpit, awed.

...closing up the front seam along her chest, Ayla shook her head before pulling the hood closed.

It adhered. A second skin. Almost unnoticeable, except for the arm-band and the controls on the back of the hand.

She nodded to Saturn Girl. "I'm ready."

Phantom Girl smiled faintly. "That's a relative term if ever I've heard one. Take the wheel, Ayla, I'm going to go meet our fans."

And, phasing, the Bgztlian woman dove out through the cockpit's viewports, silking seamless through solid matter.

"That's affirm," Ayla declared, all-business, as she slipped back into her co-pilot's seat, taking firm hold of the controls in case the autopilot dropped out of synch.

Tinya paused, flying in tandem with Ultra Girl for a moment. And her quiet eyes gave Jo a solemn look.

We can do this.

Please. Let us be okay. Just for this. Just for now.

We can do this.

The exchange caused Jo just a bit of a hitch in her flight. It felt like ages since she and Tinya could share a look like that and know what it meant.

Jo gave her an answering look with a rakish grin and a wink, then kicked in the Ultra speed letting Tinya do her job.

Popping in her telepathic ear-plugs, Tinya interfaced this with her Ring's omnicom.

"Warden," she declared, "Science Police, this is Phantom Girl of The Legion of Superheroes. We're here to help. I'm to co-ordinate with local authorities in rounding up freed cons, but first we need a place to land. Is there an optimal location for our planet fall, or should we have the dreadnought that is Ultra Girl make an optimal location?"

"Jenn, Shady, get on the guns until we hit dirt side. Tinya, I want you to coordinate with the SP's on the roundup, and Alya, Shady & I will hit the worst areas and pacify those. Jenn, I want you to beat your ping pong record down here. We are going to need intelligence first, so recon the planet and tell us where the really bad bad guys are and if they are organizing. Lets do this ladies"

Jen blurred to the port station and began scanning ready to provide cover fire for the cruiser as it descended.

"Finally," Tasmia drawled, bounding from the confines of her quarters. She, too, bound herself up in a trans-suit before snaking down the ladder to the gun turrets. Her fingers curled around the joysticks and her thumbs flexed, her tongue dancing upon her teeth.

"Hello, boys," she purred, but then the cool hard fury of battle began to descend upon her, the awareness and the detachedness, shadows began to play upon the dark cerulean of her skin.

Swiveling the turret, Tasmia kept a watchful eye on the skies and the stars, and glanced continually at the readouts. In particular, she was wary of the prison's own gun emplacements. If these had been taken over by the poisoned maddened convicts, she would have to react swiftly and with prejudice.

If the situation weren't so potentially lethal Jen might have giggled at Tasmia's eagerness. Almost as bad as Nah's. "Ready to kick Nass are we Shady?"

Saturn Girl got her game face on.

Jo blurred into a crowd of convicts and she plucked the two nearest guards out of the prisoners that were trying to tear them apart. Placing them safely out of trouble she flew around the first bunch of inmates and carved a trough around them with her Flash vision, trapping them.

Kicking over to invulnerability as she looked for more trouble she was hit in a blur of super speed from above. As Ultra girl and her assailant impacted she caught a glimpse of him. Why hadn't the escapees took him with them? She squirmed so she was face to face and said "Ol-Vir get the sprock off me, you're just not my type."

There was no real sentience in the Daxamite's eyes. He just growled and began pounding away at Jo. Being stuck on the ground she was forced to try to protect her vitals until she could get some distance between them.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Phantom Girl, Lightning Lass, Shadow Lass. The Cruiser and The Galtos.

We can do this.

Please. Let us be okay. Just for this. Just for now.

We can do this.

The exchange caused Jo just a bit of a hitch in her flight. It felt like ages since she and Tinya could share a look like that and know what it meant.

Jo gave her an answering look with a rakish grin and a wink, then kicked in the Ultra speed letting Tinya do her job.

Tinya couldn't help herself.

Jo poured on the speed and hurtled away and in the wake of that ultra-flight Tinya was left with a rush down her spine, a tingle in her blood, a smile on her face, and a phantom in her heart.

Always did love that damnable sprocking grin.

She took a deep breath. And steeled herself. If there had been any doubt in her mind that they would get through this, that doubt had melted at the sight of that grin.

Popping in her telepathic ear-plugs, Tinya interfaced this with her Ring's omnicom.

"Warden," she declared, "Science Police, this is Phantom Girl of The Legion of Superheroes. We're here to help. I'm to co-ordinate with local authorities in rounding up freed cons, but first we need a place to land. Is there an optimal location for our planetfall, or should we have the dreadnought that is Ultra Girl make an optimal location?"

'South 40!' the cry came back.

"Identify," Phantom Girl demanded, briskly. "Name, rank, serial number!"

'I'm Warden Kandro Boltax,' replied the male voice. 'Phantom Girl, I'm transmitting my serial number and the co-ordinates of a VTOLpad that's presently secure directly to your omnicom. I know, as a Science Policeman, I'm not supposed to be a huge fan of you guys? But sprocking damn it's good to hear your dulcet tones.'

Quickly, Phantom Girl used her Flight Ring's omnicom to confirm the serial number, crossref, and while she was at it she checked his voiceprint for signs of preliminary Pax infection.

No. Good.

She smirked softly. "Well, you're in luck, Warden Boltax. There's more dulcet tones where I came from. We've brought the angels."

Glancing back over her shoulder at the cruiser, Tinya beamed her signal to Ayla, co-ordinates included. "Get her in, get her down. Work to be done."

Ayla nodded, clenched her jaw, tightening five fingers around one steering vane while her other finger taktaktakked in the keystrokes to reroute the autonav. "Roger. Wilco."

She paused, and smiled a faint little smile, and echoed her brother: "'Whoever he is.'"

Jen blurred to the port station and began scanning ready to provide cover fire for the cruiser as it descended.

If the situation weren't so potentially lethal Jen might have giggled at Tasmia's eagerness. Almost as bad as Nah's. "Ready to kick Nass are we Shady?"

Shady's elegant lips quirked delightedly. "Their collective nass isn't going to know what hit it."

Saturn Girl got her game face on.

Ayla tilted her head, and her neck made a rather satisfying crack.

Sparklers danced around her eyes.

"Let's go."

Jo blurred into a crowd of convicts and she plucked the two nearest guards out of the prisoners that were trying to tear them apart. Placing them safely out of trouble she flew around the first bunch of inmates and carved a trough around them with her Flash vision, trapping them.

Keeping one eye on the skies around them, Tasmia alternated between bare vision and the scanner readouts. Ultra Girl was tracking fine, Phantom Girl was phased, the scrazzat hadn't hit the fan yet. Not for them at least.

But then--

"Ol-Vir get the sprock off me, you're just not my type."

Scan. Daxamite.

Ultra-energy channeled to invulnerability.

"XS," Tasmia growled. "Nah's pinned."

She hesitated. "I can help her. But I'm going to need all my concentration."

"Use your speed. Take both guns, ping-pong, you can do this."

There was no real sentience in the Daxamite's eyes. He just growled and began pounding away at Jo. Being stuck on the ground she was forced to try to protect her vitals until she could get some distance between them.

Tasmia vaulted out of her seat and crouched on the floor of the gunpod and her eyes rolled right back in her head...

The palms of her hands were splayed on the floor of the gunpod, she was down on one knee, and a dark dark dark keening noise issued forth from her throat.

A tiny tiny razorwirethin wisp of shadow gathered there. And sliced down, down, nipping through spaces femtometres wide, lashing out lashing down darkfield darkfield go go go...

...it lanced down from the gunpod of the cruiser and it lashed out at Ol-Vir, and when it struck his invulnerable hide it blossomed, it bloomed, it cocooned...

...it turned into a globe of darkness. Swallowing the primal beast that the Daxamite villain had become.

Swallowing him.

Sapping the sunlight from his cells just as Wraith's darkfield had sapped the electromagnetic energy from Brainy's forcefield.

Not a lot. Not like red sunbeams. But maybe. Enough.

"Quickly!" Tasmia bellowed into her Ring, her voice like ancient oubliette catacombs, her voice like the darkness in caverns never touched by sun of any colour, her voice, well... she sounded like the sort of woman who could love a Wraith. "Before he realises his infrared vision can still see in my darkness! Quickly, Nah! HIT HIM!"

 

[Wyldfire]

"XS," Tasmia growled. "Nah's pinned."

She hesitated. "I can help her. But I'm going to need all my concentration."

"Use your speed. Take both guns, ping-pong, you can do this."

"On it." Not that there were really any threats coming inbound. Where the nass were the big guns? Ol-Vir nailed Jo and that answered Jen's question for her.

There was no real sentience in the Daxamite's eyes. He just growled and began pounding away at Jo. Being stuck on the ground she was forced to try to protect her vitals until she could get some distance between them.

Tasmia vaulted out of her seat and crouched on the floor of the gunpod and her eyes rolled right back in her head...

The palms of her hands were splayed on the floor of the gunpod, she was down on one knee, and a dark dark dark keening noise issued forth from her throat.

A tiny tiny razorwirethin wisp of shadow gathered there. And sliced down, down, nipping through spaces femtometres wide, lashing out lashing down darkfield darkfield go go go...

...it lanced down from the gunpod of the cruiser and it lashed out at Ol-Vir, and when it struck his invulnerable hide it blossomed, it bloomed, it cocooned...

...it turned into a globe of darkness. Swallowing the primal beast that the Daxamite villain had become.

Swallowing him.

Sapping the sunlight from his cells just as Wraith's darkfield had sapped the electromagnetic energy from Brainy's forcefield.

Not a lot. Not like red sunbeams. But maybe. Enough.

"Quickly!" Tasmia bellowed into her Ring, her voice like ancient oubliette catacombs, her voice like the darkness in caverns never touched by sun of any colour, her voice, well... she sounded like the sort of woman who could love a Wraith. "Before he realises his infrared vision can still see in my darkness! Quickly, Nah! HIT HIM!"

She didn't even think twice. The half a second was all she needed. Flash vision. Full bore it was enough to loft the daxamite. Ultra speed. As Ol-Vir's vision cleared he'd lost track of her.

Jen watched impressed. Jo was hauling. But she could move faster. Through the rings a high pitched squeel pierced the ears of the legionnaires except for one who began to move even faster. If the squeel were slowed down the team would hear "Jo, I'm pitching some of my speed force through to you. Take him the sprock down."

Jo grinned. Ultra strength. Loaned speed. He never saw her coming as she launched herself adding her strength to her speed and at the last tic she shifted again to invulnerability. Ol-Vir reeled from the impact.

Again and again she repeated this from every angle imaginable. Sooner or later Ol-Vir was going to catch on. Jo knew she wasn't going to take him down before he got her.

Taking a wide turn she slowed down enough to say into her comm. "Imra, I'm going to need a hand here, think you could shut this freaks brain off before he finally gets me between shifts?"

That said she continued her assault. And after a few more passes he did tag Jo, but not before she shifted for impact thankfully. Jo hit the ground and was immediately back up and moving.

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Imra

*On it Jo.* The telepath sent to her.

Imra looked out through Jo's eyes. Anyone looking at her would see her sitting in the chair, eyes closed, face calm, but inside her mind things were exploding into action.

Finding the Daxamite was not hard Jo had him in her sights and he was the foremost threat to her mind. She jumped brains and was inside the chaos that was Ol-Vir.

In the chair Imra's beautiful features screwed up in concentration as she looked for a way to shut down a being that was almost as powerful as Supergirl was, and completely mad. She concentrated her power, and hammered the one last cognizant part of his mind.

*You are under a red sun! Your powers are gone.* She sent into his mind with all the power she could pull out of hers.

He reared back and screamed, his body weakening as his mind told him that he was just a normal man now.

 

[Varshanka]

Allana Lang - Dormitory Levels/Residential.

M'onel peered past her, and he nodded quietly. "You like it? Home away from home. Feel free to, ah, decorate, as you like. I'm sure the GalCyc files and the omnicom libraries will have any, ah, religious iconography you'd want."

“Thank you,” Allana said stepping into the room.

He smiled faintly. "They tend to like bright primary colors where I come from. Hence, the, ah, gaudy outfit. But you can keep your room as drab and as spartan as you see fit."

Lar paused, and pointed out to the hallway with a thumb. "Well. Did you want to relax? Maybe slip into something more comfortable, get a little downtime before we go charging off into the fire and steel?"

"I can just wait out in the hall, maybe send Alfred in when he gets back?"

“What is the estimated time of non-combat, or downtime?” Allana asked, looking around. There was no obvious clothing storage location, although the Sensorium suite indicated a multitude of cubicles within the walls, but they didn’t indicate which ones opened this way. And increasing the sensorium detail could be concluded as an invasion of privacy.

Nor was it her business what the other members of this “Legion” decided to store.

“I will need another set of clothing before I can change clothing. A basic set will do.” Communicating with the Machine-Spirit for a moment she gave it instructions. A microburst later and it was in communication with ‘Alfred’ Nothing intrusive. A simple request for clothing.

“It should be here shortly. You may wait with me… if you wish?”

Stepping back from the open doorway she indicated the rather bare room.

“I’ll make a request for decoration at a later time.”

 

[ChasNicollette]

M'onel. Magdalena's quarters.

“What is the estimated time of non-combat, or downtime?” Allana asked, looking around.

"I don't know that there is an estimate," M'onel admitted. "We're on-call at the moment. Depends what Shvaughn and Brainiac find when they locate The Fatal Five. It's kind of like... fire-fighters. Do they have dedicated fire brigades on your planet? I've read about them here, they had the pyro-caste on Daxam, you go when the alarm sounds and make careful use of what little time you have to rest."

“I will need another set of clothing before I can change clothing. A basic set will do.”

He opened his mouth to suggest that he run and get her something, maybe go and catch the autobutler, but if he'd been paying attention with his own heightened senses he might even have been able to see that microburst fly past--

“It should be here shortly. You may wait with me… if you wish?”

He closed his mouth again, quirked an eyebrow. Apparently she had this covered.

Huh. 'Make yourself at home.'

Stepping back from the open doorway she indicated the rather bare room.

“I’ll make a request for decoration at a later time.”

"Sounds like a plan," he nodded easily enough.

He stepped in, and side-stepped, leaning on the wall beside the door. (If he ever wanted to sit, he could just levitate himself into a sitting position. Which left her the bed to sit on, if she wanted, or a couple of unadorned chairs. Could her antigrav modules handle a sitting position?)

"That's quite the suit of armour," he nodded to her attire, "if you don't mind my saying so. 'Celestial Knight.' I bet you could even take on a Daughter of Krypton in a straight fight while wearing that. Which, considering I've known some pretty bad-ass Daughters of Krypton, you should take that as high praise. They have a lot of those get-ups in your neck of the galaxy, mass-produced industrial revolution? Or is this more of a-- uhm --'The Few The Proud' sort of situation?"

 

[Lunaramblings]

Wildfire stood there grinning. The thoughts of all the things that he could do now, all the things he could experience. It had been a long time. Wildfire heard everyone talking. It took him a second to realize that he didn't know how to use the comm system. By the time he was done day dreaming and figured out what to do he was more than a little flustered.

"Thanks Brainy. Way to leave a guy hanging. You know what I think I melvin would be in order." Wildfire grinned. Good that felt nice. "Just kidding Brain Boy. By the way, you should have kissed the girl. Know, seems I am not on detail, and it has been far too long since I could enjoy food. I am going to the cantina. See if I can scare up some penne bolognese arrabiata. God I miss that. It was an old family recipe. No one really knows where it came from, but supposed to have been from way back."

Wildfire claps Garth hard on the shoulder as he steps down. Stopping just before Brainiac 5 he reaches out and hugs him. "Thanks buddy. I owe you one. Now I am gonna leave before you totally sprock out from the PDA." With that, Wildfire strides out of Brainiac's lab.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Aztek, Matter-Eater Lad. The Academy. (apologies to Morrison. again.)

He'd had a dream last night.

He had stood in the night, the ancient and forgotten City of Vanity, a monstrosity taking up once-blessed land in what had once been called the State of Oregon, and the sky had been full of thunderheads, spilling lightning as though with the cracking of whips.

There had been a face within the clouds, half-formed, malformed, impossible to identify, but it had reached from sky to sky, the vicious geometry of Vanity framing that face with a skyline literally designed to drain hope from the world. A face like a skull. A face like an aquatic beast. A face like all the nightmares of Man.

He had heard the voices: the knowledges stored within his helmet, telepathic organic consciousnesses stored within the helmet, his predecessors, kept at bay only by skill and trickery, code-phrases known only to The Collective, and to Cuatro, the only thing that kept him alive when he donned the helmet. These consciousnesses now, in his dream, had not been kept at bay by that magic riddle but had spoken to him pleading desperately, exhorting and edifying and quibbling and sniveling, all these different voices.

'Tezcatlipoca, god of darkness and ruin.'

'Wolf devouring the sun.'

'That mighty dragon slips its chains.'

He had turned, slowly, gazing up at that sky, alarm building in his blood, there in that dream, that dreamscape, that nightmare cityscape.

He had heard the words and the tolling of a bell within the trembling of the sky split by thunder.

'Seven seals broken.'

'...Cuatro, the time draws near...'

'Quauhyotica ocelovotica.'

'Humanity's twilight draws near...'

'Aztek run.'

His hand had clutched at his chest and he had realised he was naked, standing there under the sky in the dark. Not even wearing his uniform, not wearing his helmet, not wearing a stitch of cloth.

He had been exposed beneath the darkness of the sky.

'Mitzayani in ilhuicatl, tentlpani in tlalli.'

'No time left.'

'Run now.'

'In muztla, in ouptla.'

He had awoken, with a start, shirtless, in boxers, tangled up in his sheets, there in his dorm room.

On his bedside table had rested the helmet.

It had been quiet. Tenzil had snuffled noisily, mumbled something in his sleep about politics and lacy undergarments.

The helmet hadn't made a sound.

But the left eye of the helmet had gleamed with light, briefly, like the afterimage of lightning. And Cuatro had wondered at the meaning of it all.

********​

Tenzil straightened his sunglasses and squinted out into the daylight.

"Flarg," he shook his head. "Yo'd'lay. You think we should tell Miz Zoe, or Mister Shakespeare?"

Cuatro stood, gazing at the after-images of those triune streaks of green green light gone gone gone.

His palm was flat against the glass.

They were 70 miles east of the centre of Metropolis, he could see their vector in their afterimages and he did the math in his head, surely that was their target.

He could don his helmet and manifest his armour and phase through the window, dive out into the air and engage the wing units. His flight option's top speed was 500 miles per hour, he could make that distance in 8.4 minutes.

But then what?

Things were happening.

But he couldn't be a part of them; he was tainted by association.

But he couldn't wait much longer.

Things were happening. He could feel it in his bones.

His hand slipped down from the window. He closed his eyes and hung his head.

All his life he'd been training; and still he had to stand and wait.

"'No time left,'" he muttered.

Tenzil blinked. "Rrrrrrun that by me one more time, Big A?"

Aztek fixed Tenzil with a look that could startle a Naltorian Hibernatrix out of its slumber. "Yeah. Tell them. Tell them they're going to need all of us. Soon. Tell them to be ready."

Tenzil stared at him, hard. And then turned and sprinted out of the room, sprinted down the hall, he'd find Kent Shakespeare in med-wing, he was always in med-wing.

"Man made my stomach turn," he muttered, disbelieving, astonished. "And if something makes my stomach turn... we're in sprocking trouble."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Legion HQ: Brande's room

"I am afraid nothing will prepare us for this. Zod is an... unexpected... choice as a Scion. Traditionally, one is chosen at birth, or through a bloodline, and always, it has been one born of Earth. Zod has had a thousand years in a timeless prison for his hatred to fester, and under a yellow sun, his powers will be unfathomable."

I then looked over at where I sensed the presence. One does not survive a war with both Heaven and Hell, without recognizing when one is being watched. Power gathered around me, bringing the room from light to dusk.

"Adveho in lux lucis parvulus" I said in my Voice of Power, and reality warped around the angelic figure, ripping it from the worlds in-between, and bestowing it a corporeal form , if only for a few minutes.

"Who are you, Child of the Light?"