The Last Daughter of Krypton - IC

[Lunaramblings]

Merick looks on at the discussion between Bruce and Chloe. He felt small. He felt like a jerk. He felt like he might just be on the losing team... again. Merick didn't flinch when Bruce strode forward. He didn't even try to pretend it was bravery. He cared for Chloe, there was some deeper connection there, and if meant letting this guy beat his ass to prove it... so be it.

However, then Bruce did something he did not expect. He encouraged him.

"She has already made us all better people, just by proximity. And I know she will make me a better person than I could ever be without her. Take care Bruce. And remember, you have friends. Suffer not in solitude, there is strength in numbers." Merick claps Bruce on the shoulder. Not sure what else he could do.

Merick walks over to Chloe. Very unsure of what to say. Unsure he should say anything at all. He smiles a bit as he realizes that he could have just appeared at her side. It would have been the easy thing to do. But then, in love and life, easy is not always the right approach.

"You okay? I mean, I don't exactly know what that was about, but I kinda put two and two together... look, I hope we are okay, but most importantly, are you okay?" Merick smiles weakly. Arms ready to accept her if that is what she wants. Unable to keep eye contact for fear of what he might see in those gorgeous eyes.

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

Returning to his office, Benjamin Wallis first gripped the small, golden handle that was attached to a rather lavish Masonite French door with textured art glass, and he pushed it open as if he were opening any other door. The door closed unaided behind him, and Benjamin continued walking to the other side of the room before he sat down in a comfortable leather chair at his desk. Several lights were blinking repeatedly on his phone, but the parties on the other lines were the least of his problems. Papers and folders that had at one point been neatly organized now lay scattered about as if a tornado had ripped through the entire office.

Benjamin swiveled in his chair and ran a hand over his bald head, rubbing it as if attempting to relieve himself of some headache. Though not a thin man by any means, Benjamin Wallis was not fat either. He was tall and bulky, and a presence to be felt no matter what room he was in. The only hair on his face, save for his bushy eyebrows, was a thick goatee that had sprouted some gray hairs. While many men in his position would have certainly preferred a more youthful appearance, Benjamin actually enjoyed the aged look that had apparently crept up on him.

That enthusiasm, however, as well as with most other things in life, had taken a backseat to other matters.

Reclining in his chair a little, Benjamin loosened his necktie and smiled as he began playing in his mind scenes of the future.

His future.

More lights soon began flashing on the small panel of his office phone, and Benjamin almost gave thought to answering a few calls.

Almost.

He was waiting on one particular bit of news, and he did not want to be disturbed by matters of lesser importance. Soon his team would have her, just as they would have the others.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose

It was like touching the intangible, standing near him. Or seeing the invisible.

She had believed until she had seen, diametric to a saint called Didymus two milliennia previous. But now she had seen again, deja vu, and now again she believed.

The Thunder God looked at Rose for a moment, and then he nodded his head in understanding.

"Alas," he told her, "it is such a thing where mortal men no longer have need for us."

She smiled a sad sad smile at that, smiled sad sadly at him as he knelt. Oh, there was too much Truth in that. Too much sad sad Truth.

You're wrong. We need you. We'll always need you.

But sometimes... sometimes we forget what we need. What we really really need.

"Behold Mjolnir," he said to her, his voice soft yet commanding. He held the hammer out in front of him so that she could see it closely. Its surface, pitted and scarred through timeless ages of battle, held mystical Runes and symbols. And there was that one symbol, the one Rose had seen before on the wall of the Kawatche Cave, on Kara's bracer, and engraved in Don Blake's cane. "Only one may hold this weapon," he explained to her in a voice of serious truth. "That one is the Son of Odin, the God of Thunder. I am that one."

"'I am that is,'" Rose breathed softly, Martin the Warrior's riddle to his successor. Because there she saw The Symbol of Hope, and there she saw The Symbol of Power. Like a message from one Messiah to another, from The Son of Odin to The Last Daughter of Krypton.

("'I am that is.'")

She held out her hand as if to run her fingers across the uru metal, to touch the primal artefact... but she remembered a story, an old old story, of a man who meant well, straightening The Ark of The Covenant when it was tipping and falling, touching its surface when he was not one of those given to touch his surface. That man had been struck down as if with lightning.

How much more would she be struck down with lightning when unintentionally maligning the weapon of the god of the storm?

She took her hand back to herself, and kept her hand to herself, and guarded against herself.

His hammer changed, Mjolnir changed, for the blink of an eye... but Rose could blink pretty fast, and she could watch a bullet fly...

('Take a look at his his neuro-kinetics, they're way above normal.')

...and Rose saw all she needed to see, she saw a hammer and then a cane and then a hammer again.

She saw and she believed.

Secret identity.

Transformation sequence.

I understand.

Thor's eyes were so blue now. Just like the Sea of Asgard.

Rose smiled quietly. Again with the Vikings, again with the Hayley Westenra.

'I never saw a blue like that before.'

...Never Saw Blue.

"A token you already have," he told her, "as it has been given to you before once we parted ways."

And with that, Rose would feel a slight tingle in the pocket where she kept the business card Blake had given to her.

Rose blinked, as her tactile senses were as enhanced as her sight, and she felt that tingle like a mobile on vibrate. She blinked down at her hip and muttered, quite frankly, the only thing she could have muttered: "'What have I got in my pocket?'"

She reached into that pocket and extracted, from a spot that should only have held a small piece of printed cardstock, a jingling metallic hammer on the end of a chain. Another Mjolnir, this one smaller, this one made of steel and not of uru.

Rose blinked, and muttered again: "'What has it got in its pocketses?'" She shook her head, dangling it there, watching it spin and glint from side to side to side, a pendulum without a pit.

"'Riddles in the dark.'"

Rose turned to Thor, and nodded her comprehension. "It shalt be done, Lord Thor. I myself wouldst gift this to The Watchtower, ere very long at all."

"Now go, my lady," he said to her, "and tarry here no more. But heed this, what I have given to you has been given with trust and faith. Few others upon Midgard hold this secret."

Thor gave her a bow, and then he stood tall in the sunlight.

Pocketing again the pendant, for she knew it was not truly for her to wear, Rose crossed her arms in an "x" over her chest, the heel of a fist pressed to each shoulder, and she bowed to him also. It seemed like the right thing to do.

And before she removed her fists from that crossed-over salute, her right fist flared with the molten crimson light of her fire, and her left fist crackled with the liquid blue-white lightning of her ice. There and gone again, flashbulbs of conflagration and frost.

"I know a thing or two about secrets," she murmured, standing as tall as she could. "Just a thing. Or two. About secrets. And I shall speak these only to they who need'st to know."

They stood there in the golden light of The Sun, but Rose heard something... her ears, too, were sharp, though not as sharp as Kara's, not as sharp as Heimdall's, but she heard the noise of a haunted house, heard the parting of a darksome veil, faint as falling leaves whispering upon the surface of a pond.

Kyle.

She grinned a soft little grin at the thought of him, but then turned her attention fully back to Thor.

"My friends are coming," she pointed out, putting her hands in her pockets. "You can trust them, too, lo unto the very ending of days. And I would like to introduce you to them under kinder circumstances than them by which first we met. But if, um, thee wouldst rather not the gathering of a small throng about thee, if thou wouldst rather they have faith not by sight, I shouldst say thee be swift forthwith, Thor Odin-Son. And I shall see thee anon."

 

[AmenRa]

And before she removed her fists from that crossed-over salute, her right fist flared with the molten crimson light of her fire, and her left fist crackled with the liquid blue-white lightning of her ice. There and gone again, flashbulbs of conflagration and frost.

"I know a thing or two about secrets," she murmured, standing as tall as she could. "Just a thing. Or two. About secrets. And I shall speak these only to they who need'st to know."

Thor touched Rose on the shoulder with the leather-wrapped handle of Mjolnir. It was as much as a king knighting a warrior, but to Thor, it was an honor bestowed upon few. In that instant, Thor knew Rose, her powers, her strengths, her lineage, her spirit. It was his power to see into the hearts of mortals, and within Rose he saw all that was good.

"Now thou art a child of Mjolnir," he said, lapsing back into the tongue of the gods. "As thine kin once were, so shall the strengths of the honored and brave carry on with thee. Of fire and ice thou art, surely worthy of a place at the table of Valhalla!

"Thou art a warrior maiden, Rose Mary McCrimmon," he said as he replaced the mighty war hammer. "And I shall call thee Valkyrie!"

"My friends are coming," she pointed out, putting her hands in her pockets. "You can trust them, too, lo unto the very ending of days. And I would like to introduce you to them under kinder circumstances than them by which first we met. But if, um, thee wouldst rather not the gathering of a small throng about thee, if thou wouldst rather they have faith not by sight, I shouldst say thee be swift forthwith, Thor Odin-Son. And I shall see thee anon."

Thor looked away for a moment, then turned back to Rose, his right hand reaching up to grasp his chin in thought.

"Aye," he smiled, "I shall meet with them. Not enough friends here upon Midgard do I have, especially those with whom to share secret things."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Bruce and Alfred (et Henri... et al...)

"She has already made us all better people, just by proximity. And I know she will make me a better person than I could ever be without her. Take care Bruce. And remember, you have friends. Suffer not in solitude, there is strength in numbers." Merick claps Bruce on the shoulder. Not sure what else he could do.

Bruce walked from Merick and walked from that room in search of Alfred, and Merick's clap on his shoulder and his spoken words echoed after him, over and over again.

Solitude.

Fortresses of Solitude.

Is it Solitary because it is a Fortress?

Or is it a Fortress made from Solitude, walls and parapets enclosing and defending and shutting out the world because one has made oneself Alone?

Bruce shook his head as he walked the halls of Edmund Tennylson's estate.

He remembered the red-gold "R" that had emblazoned Pete Ross' jacket, and the duffel bags...

For some reason that Symbol made him feel less Alone.

Even among Outsiders, I'm an outsider. But maybe I won't always be alone.

He paused outside a room, the door ajar, glancing through the slit-open portal and seeing Alfred Pennyworth stand there with Damian Cain. It was a small sitting room, and there was a phone, and a display-case of Far Eastern steel that looked museum quality at the very least.

Damian looked as though he were a curled up rattlesnake, and his tail was chittering...

Damian looked pent-up and ready to strike.

Alfred had the phone in his hand, and seemed ready to dial, as though he hadn't yet gotten up the nerve; he was pausing to listen to The Black Hood.

Bruce frowned, though he paused to listen, also, to The Black Hood:

He said one thing, "Make sure Bruce is weary of the zealot Ras Al Ghul"

He then walked to the weapons rack and eyed the Ninja style blade.

Alfred smiled faintly, and he nodded.

"'Weary,'" Alfred mused. "A betta' choice of words I could not compose meself. 'Weary.' Of Ra's al Ghul. I tell you, lad, I've never met the gent and I'm right knackered of 'im."

Alfred gazed at the receiver in his hand, and shook his head.

"How d'you define loyalty, lad?" he asked the boy with a face like a long-lost Son of Wayne, though that face now was masked. "Is loyalty having the wherewithal to stand up to them you protect, and to deny them to chance to take a foolish, self-destructive path? Or is loyalty, true loyalty, utter loyalty... is that when you stick with them no matter their choices, no matter the cost?"

He smiled faintly. "Ordinarily, I'd pick the former. But look at what he's trying to do. Look at what he's trying to stop. And if anyone had a snowball's chance of tearing down this League around that zealot's ears, it's Masta' Bruce Wayne. I can't... I can't deny 'im this chance. I'd do it meself, but I'm not so young as I used to be... unlike some people."

Alfred blew air through his cheeks. "Even if it be the end of 'im. I can't deny Masta' Bruce this chance to die saving a world worth saving."

Closing his eyes and saying a prayer for his soul and for the soul of an orphaned boy, Alfred dialed a number he shouldn't have known, and held the phone to his ear to listen to it ring.

********​

Clouds and sky flourished past the porthole-esque windows of Henri Ducard's private jet. While not as fast as The Pegasus, not nearly, it was still quite a force to be reckoned with, and the miles between Honduras and Kansas fell away at a rapid clip.

Henri Ducard was on the phone already, though not with Alfred Pennyworth.

"We were on top of The Element all along," Henri growled with disdain, "and never did we know it. It was snatched from our fingertips by forces from beyond the stars, by a host of travelers, and all my best-laid plans were there laid best to waste. I am not unforgiving, and I am not uncomprehending that you were working with precisely a dearth of data, but could you not pinpoint it just that much closer? The Quest is over, and my hands still are empty."

"You have, Lord Ducard," the voice came on the other end of the line, wincing at the fury of The Demon's Right Hand, "my sincerest apologies. If it helps, sir, I shall begin recruitment immediately to repopulate the loss of your Ten Rings assests in the vicinity."

Ducard's lip twitched. "See that you do."

He held up a ring. A glinting ring. The same ring that had been on Raze's thumb. There were flecks of blood on the ring that were already drying.

"And Noah? See that you find me this time someone competent to put in charge."

The voice on the other end hesitated, and then replied: "Very well, sir."

"I shall leave you to your work, then," Ducard drawled. "Unless, Kuttler, you have anything further to add?"

Again, there came hesitation, but the voice did not tarry overlong: "Sir. Actually. There's a matter of funding."

"You shall be compensated," Henri grunted. "Thoroughly."

"Not my funding, sir," Kuttler replied, "but that of The League itself."

Ducard's lip twitched. "Explain."

"A significant sum of funds was subtracted from League accounts in Zurich," Kuttler delivered. "A significant sum of funds. And apparently, according to the transaction list I've acquired, it was barely a flicker of time before it was there again, there one second, gone the next, back again the next. All accounts were dipped into simultaneously, and then the funds were restored. I thought at first this was a clerical error on the part of The Swiss..."

Ducard rubbed his temple, and adjusted his cell phone from one ear to the other. "I trust you have found evidence to the contrary?"

"I would not have troubled you otherwise, sir," Kuttler promised. "At the exact same moment, at the exact same second as the funds vanished from these accounts, an account was established in the computers of The First National Bank of Gotham City whose first deposit matched the flicker-gone-back total of the various accounts dipped. Matched exactly. Shortly thereafter, debit transactions took place in Metropolis, Kansas, a purchase of nearly 43K from a car dealership, and then a property purchase of a far far larger sum, the purchase of an old Siegel property on the outskirts of Smallville itself."

"This hits close to home," Henri Ducard mused, as he closed his eyes. "And to whom, may I ask, did this account belong?"

Kuttler hesitated. "See, that's just it, sir. According to my research, the account belongs to a trusted asset of The Stable of Shadows. None other than David Cain."

Ducard harrumphed. "Cain is not without his arrogance, but I doubt even he would be so brazen as to challenge The League and put his own name on the account. This would be signing his own death warrant, as even a warrior of his skill-- even a warrior of his partner's skill --could not stand against The League's combined might."

"I had attained the same conclusion, sir," Kuttler agreed.

Henri tapped his chin, shook his head. "I shall speak with him. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Noah."

"As ever, Lord Ducard," Kuttler replied, "my resources are at your disposal."

"Of course they are," Ducard smiled faintly, and snapped his phone shut.

He sat for a moment, phone in his fist, and his hard hard eyes gazed out at the whispers of clouds.

It matters not that the funds were restored to us. The fact that they were subtracted at all in the first place should be construed as an act of war.

It's the principle of the thing.

He examined the phone in his hand. Flipped it open again.

Made ready to call Cain, finger poised...

...the phone rang, and his eyebrow arched.

The Caller ID read simply, 'Mr. Wilson.'

Ducard smiled softly, darkly. What a pleasant surprise.

He takked the green key and held the phone to his ear. "Slade. Has semi-retirement not yet killed you out of sheer boredom?"

"Mistaken identity, I'm afraid," came the voice of Alfred Pennyworth, "m'sieu."

Both Ducard's eyebrows now climbed his forehead. "Pennyworth. Of all the people I expected to call me from that private line... is this a case of strange bedfellows? Strange bedfellows, indeed."

"I'll cut to the proverbial chase," Pennyworth growled. "My Masta' is eager to commune with yours. As you may 'ave gathered, we're in El Paso, Texas, and I wish very much to find out where you are that 'e might come to meet you."

"That's hardly necessary," Ducard dismissed. "I'm in the air at present, and it would be a simple matter for me to come to you. We are barely an hour away, I shall have my pilot divert his course. Have your master meet me at El Paso International."

"Very good, Henri," Pennyworth replied, though not without a touch of bitterness. "I shall pass this along."

And then the line went dead, and Ducard chuckled at the phone. Not many men would be brave enough to hang up on the likes of him, but Pennyworth had never been short on insolence.

Excellent news.

Our best-laid plans continue.

********​

Alfred stared down at the phone once more, this time with the receiver upon the cradle.

He glanced over his shoulder at Bruce, looking right out into the hallway at Bruce as though he'd known he was there all along.

"It's," Alfred sighed, "it's done, sa'. He'll be along shortly."

Bruce's jaw flexed as he moved into the room, and he nodded briskly. "Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred shook his head. "Please don't, sa'. Please don't. Thank me."

Bruce simply nodded, his face a roughshod topography of emotion. "Very well."

Alfred shook his head, and moved away, didn't look at Bruce again. "I'll arrange you a ride to the airport from Tennylson's livery, sa'."

He left the room briskly, leaving Bruce alone with Damian.

Bruce regarded Damian quietly, pensively.

"Will you look after them, for me?" he asked, his voice again a thing of darkness. "Alfred, and The Outsiders. Chloe. Will you stand vigilant over them, while I am gone?"

********​

David Cain was sitting in a very comfortable chair.

It was a penthouse apartment, and it had a fine view of the Topeka skyline.

The penthouse apartment did not belong to him. The people to whom the apartment belonged were running and screaming and bleeding and dying.

He took a drag from his cigarette, and thumbed back the hammer on his silenced Desert Eagle. A topless blonde ran past him, knocking over an end table with her leg in her desperation, she ran for the elevator. The end table tumbled, and white dust spilled in billows, and the small mirror on which that dust had been gathered smashed when it hit the floor.

Very calmly, very casually, David Cain took aim at her and blew her brains out the front of her head, spattering them on the gleaming silver doors before she could even touch the elevator's call button.

She slumped into a heap.

Other people were screaming, other people were dying. David Cain was picking and choosing. He was the senior partner, after all, he could enjoy that luxury.

It wasn't like his junior partner couldn't handle the bulk of the proverbial heavy lifting.

Some Asian chick was trying to open a window, her hair dyed azure, and David shrugged and visited a bullet upon her brains, too. His aim was electric, and his aim was effortless.

David's phone rang in his pocket, and he grunted.

"Takin' a call," he bellowed to his partner, and he tugged the phone out. "Try ta keep it down."

The Caller ID suggested that it might be another job. Busy busy busy.

"Cain," he admitted.

The voice on the other end was endlessly stern and brutally inquisitive.

"Huh," Cain grunted. "How much they get?"

Cain shook his head and whistled out cigarette smoke at the reply, arching silver-white eyebrows. "Yeah, no, that ain't me. Some punk borrowin' a name ain't his. I maybe an amoral shit, but I ain't no idyit."

He flicked the coffin-nail away. "Yeah, no, we ain't far. I'll pay a visit t' that home address. Mess has my name on it, I'll clean it up. I owe this jack-ass big-time."

The voice on the other end of the line voiced his approval.

"Merci," Cain growled, "Hank."

He cracked his neck as he rose from the comfortable chair, and ran a hand through close-cropped silver-white hair.

Glinting eyes flickered through the apartment. Lots of dead women, mostly naked. A couple of guys in nice suits, dead. Couple guys with digital camcorders, what had been taping what the mostly naked women had been doing to the guys in nice suits.

It had gotten much quieter. He could hear a woman talking, and a man crying.

David Cain stopped to tug a pack of cigarettes out of the hand of a dead man in a nice suit, spoils of war.

He walked through to the master bedroom.

A fat man in a bathrobe was down on his knees, hands on the back of his head, and he was weeping. Corrupt bastard had bitten off more than he could chew.

A raven-haired woman stood with a Beretta nine-millimetre to the back of the man's head, muzzle pressed in between the white-knuckled fingers of one of the hands that were clasping his skull. She was talking. In Latin. She was gorgeous.

"Hey," Cain began, but the woman held up her hand, refusing to be interrupted, and she kept right on talking.

She thumbed back the hammer on her Beretta.

The fat man let out a fresh whimper: "Please. Please. I'll do anything--"

"--In Nomine Patri et Filii et Spiritus Sancti," the woman replied, her accent like music, her voice a prayerful incantation. "'Have you ever danced with The Devil in the pale moonlight?'"

And pulled the trigger. Cordite flash and blood/brain blowback.

The fat man wasn't crying anymore.

The raven-haired woman smirked, and shook her head. "I love it when they say 'please.'"

"Magic word," Cain chuckled.

She twirled her gun on her finger, and glanced absently at her senior partner. "Didn't mean to be rude, there. Yeh were saying?"

"Got a gig in Smallville," Cain shrugged. "Like to get going sooner rather'n later. Tell you about it in th' car."

"Mm," she nodded. "We're done here."

"Rock on," Cain saluted, and turned to go.

The raven-haired woman followed. "'Smallville,'" she reflected, with an incredulous chuckle. "Seriously?"

Claire McCrimmon holstered her gun, and cleaned blood off of her hands with a handi-wipe.

"I haven't been there in years."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Ceri and Jamie

She allowed them a few moments before she coughed, and turned, looking up at the two.

"Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but Dr. Hamilton, I want to talk to you before Edmund does, or worse Lionel."

She paused a second, which got a look from both Ceri and James.

Ceri looked at Jamie. Jamie looked at Ceri.

They both looked at Bekka. And Ceri frowned, brow furrowed, and Jamie's devil's eyebrow climbed in an arch.

"Beg your pardon?" Jamie wondered. "I'm sure that I, erm, I've no idea what you're on about..."

"To be blunt, I need a man of your talents and skills, especially in handling A.I.'s. I want you on my team. How does $800,000 a year sound, with a five million signing bonus? You would be answerable to me, with control over who you pick as your team. Facilities would be provided, and Moving is not a problem. I plan to break ground in Smallville in about three months on a research facility. Oh, I will also throw in a case of Red Bull per week too. Think about it Dr. Hamilton. Talk to your family. Talk to Odin too if you wish, he will let you know that I take care of my people, and honor my deals."

The colour drained from Jamie's face, just as it did from Ceri's, and they stood stock-still half-in and half-out of each other's arms.

"We need to talk about this as a fam--" Ceri began--

"--two cases of Red Bull a week," Jamie haggled.

Ceri fired Jamie a look like she could rupture his brainpan through sheer force of will. "James!"

Jamie blinked. "Look, I've said it before, 'bit vague about money,' but you dun think turning this nice lady down would be like, erm, killing the goose what lays the golden eggs? Or, erm, killing the goose what lays the golden college fund?"

Ceri frowned, and clawed a hand through the darkness of her hair. "Yeh can't just rush into these things. And what about the job with the high school? I know the pay isn't shite compared to what Gen-Tech's offering, but they'd be lost without yeh, don't yeh think? I mean, I'm not going to throw around accusations of nepotism or charity, yeh daughter's dating Gen-Tech's crown prince, but wouldn't it be better to take the higher path, do what's right for the town?"

Jamie processed this for a moment. "'Ang on. I can't do both?"

This gave Ceri incredulous pause. "Eh? James, what?"

Jamie scritched an eyebrow with a thumbnail. "I don't sleep at night. Ever. Except, you know, special circumstances. And lots of people work two jobs what have to get a solid eight a night."

Ceri stared at him, her mouth open wide. "You're a genius."

Jamie grinned, eyes half-lidded. "Don't tell me I don't know me arse from a hole in the ground."

He whirled to face Bekka Greystone, hand outstretched for one of those locked-on handshakes. "Right, then. Work out the details later. For now, I'm in. So long as you let me work the night shift, spend me days lecturing Physics at Smallville High, I'm in like Errol tupping Flynn."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Bekka Greystone

Dr. Jamie Hamilton was going to take some serious getting used to!!

"My brother as of now does not hold a vote in this company. That will change when he is twenty one, but until then he is just your daughters boyfriend as far as the world knows. It's also why you answer to me. Avoids a conflict of interests as much as possible. Besides, I have a feeling your going to require close watching. I might just offer Ceri a job too as your handler."

Bekka grinned and looked up at the raven haired woman.

"OK, right now lets say your on retainer. I'll give it a year before that facility is completed, and I'll bring you in with the design team for twice a month weekend meetings so things are to your specifications. Your on the payroll as a consultant right now, and you go full time during the summer. You have Omega access to Odin as of now, which means you can utilize him to the fullest, but I want any programming changes run through me before you implement them. I like my boy just like he is, and get cranky if someone mucks up his processors. Welcome to my family you two."

Bekka then motioned for Min to come over and relieve John of his duties.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chloe Anne Sullivan

Merick walks over to Chloe. Very unsure of what to say. Unsure he should say anything at all. He smiles a bit as he realizes that he could have just appeared at her side. It would have been the easy thing to do. But then, in love and life, easy is not always the right approach.

"You okay? I mean, I don't exactly know what that was about, but I kinda put two and two together... look, I hope we are okay, but most importantly, are you okay?" Merick smiles weakly. Arms ready to accept her if that is what she wants. Unable to keep eye contact for fear of what he might see in those gorgeous eyes.

Chloe's eyes, gorgeous or not, were rimmed with red, and she felt all the fatigue of the world on her shoulders.

She looked at Merick for a moment, shaking her head, and attempting vainly to wipe her tears away with the heels of her hands.

"I'm," she shrugged helplessly. "I'm okay. I guess. I mean, no, I'm not okay, but I'm okay. (If that makes any sense.) Bruce... Bruce and I sort of had a thing for each other. But we didn't have a thing with each other. If that makes any sense."

She shrugged again, her eyes as unable to maintain a lock on his as he was unable to lock onto hers...

"We have a thing, right?" she mumbled. "This thing of ours? We have a thing for each other and a thing with each other... I like that. I like that very much."

She smiled faintly. ("Launchpad McQuack and Penny Gadget, that's us.")

Sniffling, trying desperately to maintain a modicum of decorum and failing absolutely miserably, she looked away again. "It's just. Roads less traveled by, you know? Might-have-beens and diverted parallels. That's all."

Her eyes dropped to her feet, and she made a haggard attempt at levity. "What does not kill me makes me stronger. What does kill me, apparently, is just a temporary setback."

But then she looked up at Merick, there with his arms ready to embrace her, and her voice and face were jagged agony. "I'm sorry that I'm all gross and mucousy. And I don't mean to micro-manage things?"

...her voice dropped to a whisper, a plea: "But you should probably be kissing me now."

 

[Lunaramblings]

Merick smiled at Chloe. His mind wonky and a bit lost, but he didn't care. He lowers his head and just before their lips touch he whispers to her.

"As you wish."

Merick kisses Chloe as she taught him. Merick didn't care that Gar was staring, or that his entire extended family was in the room. All he cared about was the soft skin and velvet lips he felt before him. As he parted he kisses each eye, gentle, barely touching. Kissing her tears away.

"I think we have more than a thing and I intend fully to not allow our paths to diverge or worry about the coulda-woulda-shoulda's. You are here. I am here. This is the time that matters." As Merick leans back in, finding Chloe's lips, it seems as if time stops. Merick kisses Chloe with every fiber of his very soul. The seconds like hours as they remain locked together. Time is a difficult thing to judge.

 

[Wyldfire]

Diana stayed back from most of the others. She had only come along to protect Kara, and she'd failed in that, as well as in stopping Aries. What had ever made her believe she had even a modicum of a chance at standing toe to toe with gods?

She did take the time to look about the group. Alliances new and old were forming amongst these strangers. The only friend she had here was Uncle Ted, and he was here to help another. That they'd crossed paths was pure coincidence.

She would wait quietly aside from these others and when they returned to Smallville she would go back to life there. She would continue as best she could to help out Kara and Rose, even if the both of them had left her behind.

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

"Fair enough. But I warn you, I suck at algebra."

Kara smirked at Kyle's revelation that he sucked at math, and as shadows began to dance around him the young Kryptonian quickly took off for the road. Her entire body became like a blurred collage of red and blue as she raced towards the hospital, though most humans would have only noticed a slight breeze if she had passed them by. Time itself seemed to slow down for Earth's adopted daughter, and Kara Zor-El wondered whether or not Kyle even had a chance at beating her.

Kara stopped running when she came across a rather large tree just lying in the middle of the road. Raising an eyebrow, Kara looked around to make sure that there wasn't anyone in the area before she attempted to move the fallen obstacle.

"Well... at least you're helping Kyle to get a better report card," Kara thought to herself as she hoisted the tree up a few feet of the ground. What would have taken a whole crew of men and equipment to move, Kara did all on her own, and she pushed the gigantic pencil stick off to the side of the road where she hoped it wouldn't cause anyone any trouble. The town would eventually come by to remove it, but for now it was out of the way.

Once again Kara took a quick look around her. Something just... didn't feel right.

Now that she had taken some time to think about the situation, Kara began finding a lot of things out of place. The only place from where the tree could have originated was quite a ways off from where she had come across it, and although Smallville had been hit by yet another meteor shower, there were no signs of damage to the immediate area.

So what was the tree doing in the middle of the road?

Before Kara could answer her own question, at least a dozen men suddenly sprang up from their hiding places near the road, and they quickly cast aside their camouflage outfits before aiming their weapons at the startled alien.

This was exactly the kind of situation that Kara and her parents had feared would happen, and Kara was at first unsure of how to react. She certainly didn't want to hurt any of them, but with their guns pointed at her she wasn't really left with all that many options.

Those few brief moments of hesitation almost cost her dearly, but Kara was able to move out of the way as a few projectiles were fired in her direction.

They were shooting at her...

For what reason the young Kryptonian had absolutely no idea. She was scared and confused, but smart enough to know that she had to get out of there.

And fast.

Running at superhuman speeds, Kara moved quickly between a gap in their ranks and she sped off down the road, leaving her assailants far behind.

"Primary target has breached point A," one of the soldiers relayed into a hand-held radio that had been attached to his belt.

"Do you have a visual?"

"Negative. Subject displays speed as well as strength," the first soldier said as he glanced over at the tree that Kara had moved all on her own.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose

Thor touched Rose on the shoulder with the leather-wrapped handle of Mjolnir. It was as much as a king knighting a warrior, but to Thor, it was an honor bestowed upon few. In that instant, Thor knew Rose, her powers, her strengths, her lineage, her spirit. It was his power to see into the hearts of mortals, and within Rose he saw all that was good.

She bowed her head down, reverent and respectful, as that hammer touched her shoulder.

Once upon a time, there was a Norseman called Hroðmundr, and he was a warrior for the good, devoted and spiritual as well as physically mighty. And he had sons, and his sons had sons, and within this family there was passed down spiritual faith and the traditions of battle...

Once upon a time, one of the long-descended sons of Hroðmundr, now called "MacCrimmon" by the ever-changing tongues of men, wed a daughter of Cymru in the place called Caerdydd, and she, too, became "MacCrimmon." And these, too, had children... sons and daughters...

Once upon a time there was an Englishman called Horatio Nelson, and he was a flag officer in one of the greatest navies in Earth history. Nelson did not survive to see the profit in his boldest bravest victory, that of Trafalgar, but he was made immortal by two things: the legend of his strategy and of his ability to inspire the best in everyone, that "Nelson touch;" and the children he'd had with his married lover, the woman called Emma, Lady Hamilton.

In one world or another, there would have survived only a daughter named Horatia. But in this world, diverted parallel, Lady Emma Hamilton had twins: Horatia, and a son, James, named for a Scottish doctor she'd known as a much younger woman.

James Graham Hamilton, born 1801, would grow up to be brilliant, and would have his father's legendary gift for thinking things through and coming at them from the least predictable of angles, as well as a miraculous ability to inspire those around him to strive to be better than they were. And he would marry, and he would have daughters and sons...

One of those latter-day sons was also named James. And this James, this James David Hamilton, this brother of Emil, would meet through synchronicity and fortuitousness one of the long-descended daughters of Hroðmundr. And they would have a daughter.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Rose.

A Last Daughter of Britain.

Child of Norse of Celt of Gael of Anglo of Saxon.

She was still not without fear. But she had found courage.

And she was just now beginning to realise what that meant.

"Now thou art a child of Mjolnir," he said, lapsing back into the tongue of the gods. "As thine kin once were, so shall the strengths of the honored and brave carry on with thee. Of fire and ice thou art, surely worthy of a place at the table of Valhalla!

"Thou art a warrior maiden, Rose Mary McCrimmon," he said as he replaced the mighty war hammer. "And I shall call thee Valkyrie!"

Rose Mary McCrimmon rose to her feet. And she stared in wonder at him.

Did you just. Dub me?

Did I just... did you just... did I just get dubbed?

I called myself The Valkyrie Missile after this song I know. But you just. Did you just.

Did you just make it official?

Can I speak now this name without fear of blaspheming against you, and against the battlefield angels of yore?

I'm a Valkyrie.

She shook herself, as if she could not believe this to be true.

"My friends are coming," she pointed out, putting her hands in her pockets. "You can trust them, too, lo unto the very ending of days. And I would like to introduce you to them under kinder circumstances than them by which first we met. But if, um, thee wouldst rather not the gathering of a small throng about thee, if thou wouldst rather they have faith not by sight, I shouldst say thee be swift forthwith, Thor Odin-Son. And I shall see thee anon."

Thor looked away for a moment, then turned back to Rose, his right hand reaching up to grasp his chin in thought.

"Aye," he smiled, "I shall meet with them. Not enough friends here upon Midgard do I have, especially those with whom to share secret things."

...Rose nodded, grinning, still giddy from turns of events that she couldn't quite believe and yet she believed.

'I don't wanna come back down from this cloud.'

She whirled to face the direction from which she thought she'd heard Kyle, and she cupped her hands around her mouth, and she bellowed, her voice one of unutterable delight: "WRAITH! Get your bony-armoured caboose over here... I just got hammered!"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Ceri and Jamie and John

"My brother as of now does not hold a vote in this company. That will change when he is twenty one, but until then he is just your daughters boyfriend as far as the world knows. It's also why you answer to me. Avoids a conflict of interests as much as possible. Besides, I have a feeling your going to require close watching. I might just offer Ceri a job too as your handler."

Bekka grinned and looked up at the raven haired woman.

Ceri shook her head in awe and in wonder, and laughed a startled little laugh.

"No fear, luvvie," Ceri apologised. "No offence. But that was me paying work for a big enough part of me life, and me marriage didn't survive the ordeal. James and I, we're finding our way through the rocky shoals to a thing approximating complicated friendship. Our marriage didn't survive me being his minder, I'd like our friendship to have a fighting chance."

She smiled faintly. "Your generosity is immeasurable. But I'm Rose's minder now, and that's a duty to which I've gladly given me heart and soul. So thank you. But no thank you."

Bekka's attention, however, seemed to be more focused on her latest actual acquisition, and perhaps this was rightly so.

"OK, right now lets say your on retainer. I'll give it a year before that facility is completed, and I'll bring you in with the design team for twice a month weekend meetings so things are to your specifications. Your on the payroll as a consultant right now, and you go full time during the summer. You have Omega access to Odin as of now, which means you can utilize him to the fullest, but I want any programming changes run through me before you implement them. I like my boy just like he is, and get cranky if someone mucks up his processors. Welcome to my family you two."

Jamie saluted her, grinning, a two-fingered salute ticked from the brow that, while not the up-thrust "birdie" first displayed by English archers to taunt The French, still seemed rather not quite reverent.

"Thank you for having us," Jamie winked, and this was sincere enough. "And since family's family, we'll look out for your Ragnarok and your, erm, Vashta Nerada, just as we expect you'll look out for us and our Rosy. I do solemnly swear to use my powers only for good."

Bekka then motioned for Min to come over and relieve John of his duties.

Hands in his pockets, Jamie pivoted to beam at Ceri. "D'you hear that? I'm a 'consultant.' How dead brill is that?"

Ceri smirked, eyes weary and half-lidded but not entirely unhappy. "Once a 'consultant,' always a 'consultant,' isn't it?"

"Looks that way," Jamie chuckled. "Oh, Lord, the jokes we used to tell about 'consulting' back at S.T.A.R. in Keystone. (I should write Tina, tell her what's happened, she'll just die.)"

"Tina," Ceri mused, a dark flare in her eyes. "This was Doctor McGee?"

Jamie hesitated, suddenly aware that he was on thin strata but completely unsure why. "Erm. One of them, yes. Worked across the bridge at the Central City branch."

Ceri arched an eyebrow at him. "I seem to recall a bespectacled brunette. Quite pretty, wasn't she?"

Jamie's cheeks instantly turned as scorchingly red as his eyes were wide. "Was she? Oh. Erm. Hadn't noticed."

Ceri smirked, rather enjoying seeing Jamie on his back foot... "I'll just bet you hadn't."

Without making much more than a little bit of a fuss, John relinquished his wheelchair duties to Min, and stepped away from Bekka Greystone. In the process, he found himself standing again with Ceri and James, and glanced between the two halves of the troubled couple with thinly veiled amusement.

"You know," he pondered and pontificated, "I was just wondering at your two's apparent ability to survive the tendency of me friends and loved ones to die miserable, completely avoidable deaths."

"Yeah, well," Jamie mused, wide eyes riveted on Ceri's narrowed ones, "week's not over yet."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Chloe

Time is a difficult thing to judge.

A lot of people assume that when you die, Time stops.

It doesn't.

Time becomes rather different when you die, but it does not stop.

But when you live, when you really really live, when you are most alive, then and only then for an elongated eternal blissful instant...

...that's when Time can stop.

Chloe drew away from Merick, and Time popped back into place, the second hand returned to its regularly scheduled ticking already in progress, and Chloe smiled at him with all the life she had in her.

And without a single word, with only this immeasurable smile, Chloe thusly confirmed that Merick had been right.

More than just a 'thing.'

Then she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his shoulder.

And for a time, as she held him and her sniffles subsided and her tears dried, for a time and for a Time, Chloe said not a word.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Ted

Ted felt. Incongruous.

He stood there in that library with the bookshelves and the mystery people and old old men and young young boys and girls. He stood there in a borrowed Gen-Tech jumpsuit and he remembered a young young man who had been on the verge of changing the world...

Ted remembered.

He stood there staring at his feet for a moment, and then looked at Ceri and Jimmy and John, and even there he couldn't find himself. He'd sworn off America for the rest of his days, and yet here he was. Here he was.

One of his sweeps of the room picked up Little Lady Di.

He smiled faintly. She looked like he felt.

Out of place, even while she stood on her own two feet.

Shoulders hunched, and hands in his jumpsuit pockets, he walked quietly up to Diana of Themyscira.

"Hey, Di," he murmured.

His face knotted a little. He frowned and he glanced out at the talking library-goers once more.

"I just," he mumbled, "I just. It was good ta see ya. It was good ta kick ass with ya. I mean, I always figured you were gonna be somethin' special. But seein' ya out there, holdin' yer own against a beast like that..."

He shrugged his hunched shoulders. "I always knew you was gonna be a Wonder. Good ta know I was right fer once, in my whole misbegotten career."

Ted bit the inside of his cheek and forced himself to look at her properly. "I gotta go. You know. Soonish. I made a promise on th' grave'a my friend Prez, soon's I can pry Johnny away from his ex and her ex, I'm gonna make him do that trick he does when you go for a constitutional and you're suddenly someplace else, 'Round Th' World in Eighty Seconds. I'd like t' stay. But I got me a promise to keep, an' since you're on yer own two pins again, y'know."

He hesitated. "Funny thing is, y'ain't th' only random family member I done run into today. Gal with the red hair at that temple... she's my niece just as much as yerself. I mean, y'ain't kin t' her in any formal or bloodline sorta sense, but... her mama's growed up under my fisticuffs tutelage, so. Helluva coincidence, right? Me runnin' inta her an' her daughter an' Little Lady Di all on the same day? Way too much coincidence fer my blood."

Ted sniffed, and his nostrils flared, and he laughed a tiny little laugh. "Johnny himself might say, said this earlier: 'sometimes synchronicity moves in particles, sometimes it moves in waves.' Guess this was a day for waves. An' maybe there ain't no such thing as coincidence."

He reached for her, and he clasped her shoulders, and he gazed into her eyes.

"Di," he murmured. "Take it from yer Uncle Teddy. I ain't at liberty to divulge, y'know, details..." --he glanced in Ceri's direction, though Ceri was oblivious to this-- "...Amazons may be th' greatest secret warrior-woman sodality ever ta grace God's green globe, no doubt, the most skilled an' the most focused an' the most dedicated hereditary kickers of ass in alla recorded history. But they ain't th' first, an' they ain't th' only. Ya got sisters everywhere ya look. So, um. What I'm sayin' is. (Long-winded.) Is... don't never feel alone. Because ya can learn a little bit from them, an' they can learn everything from you. All your sisters, heh, an' you. Don't never feel alone."

Again his hands went to his pockets. Again he shrugged his shoulders.

Again his face was awkwardness.

"Tell yer mama," he mumbled, "next ya talk, tell her I said 'hey,' an' that I'm sorry I ain't called in awhile. Y'know. Next time ya talk ta her."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Bruce, and Alfred, with Damian (for Camerindrake)

Bruce regarded Damian quietly, pensively.

"Will you look after them, for me?" he asked, his voice again a thing of darkness. "Alfred, and The Outsiders. Chloe. Will you stand vigilant over them, while I am gone?"

For a long moment, Damian did not respond to Bruce's question, merely studied the ninja-to and the kusari-gama on display.

Then he regarded Bruce quietly, pensively.

"Of course," he growled. "I cannot say I fully agree with or understand your reasons for going in the first instance, as there is literally nothing Ducard can teach you that I cannot. On the other hand, I shall certainly not stand in your way. The safety of your friends and teammates simply goes without saying."

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, and then paused. "Alfred wouldn't let me thank him. Am I allowed to thank you?"

Damian turned to face Bruce more fully, cape flourishing around him as he moved, and he met Bruce's gaze. "No. No, I don't think so."

Bruce pondered this for a moment, and nodded simply. "Then I shall just have to owe you."

Another of Damian's uncharacteristic half-chuckles slipped through the armour around his face, and around his heart. "You can try. But I already am indebted to you more than you will ever realise."

Bruce's eye twitched. "You're very good at this. This... cultivated aura of mystery you wear, thicker than any Kevlar bi-weave."

"I'm good," Damian admitted. "You'll be better."

Alfred stepped into the room's doorway, and cleared his throat. His eyes were redder then they'd been moments previously, and he looked... gaunt. He looked tired, as he gestured, apres-vous, to the hallway. "They're ready for you, sir."

Bruce nodded quietly, then squared his shoulders. And followed on after Alfred.

Damian took another moment to slide his eyes along the edge of the ninja-to, and then followed.

A Tennylson town-car waited in the driveway, engine running, driver in place.

Bruce stood there for a moment, staring at the car, and for that moment, for just that moment, Alfred was almost able to convince himself that Bruce would change his mind.

But then Bruce spoke, and this false hope was dashed: "Alfred. I have things at the house in Smallville. Gifts from our friend here. I may want them... I'll tell you the location, will you send them along?"

Alfred's fists were knuckled tight and white at his sides, and he could barely speak. "Of. Of course, sa'."

Bruce nodded quietly. And then looked down at his hands.

When he looked back up at Alfred, he was a different man. "I remember having a dream. Chaos and impossibility. A laughing man. But there was a woman... a woman in blue."

He smiled faintly. "Tell her. Tell Kara. I'm ready when she is."

He looked again at the car. "When she's ready to save The World, tell her to find me. I'll be ready."

Alfred nodded quietly. This prospect seemed somehow far less jarring. "Very good, sa'."

Bruce turned to Damian and bowed to him respectfully, fist in palm. "Black Hood. Another time."

Damian returned the bow, though he bowed deeper. "Dark Knight. Mind your surroundings."

Bruce straightened, and turned to Alfred once more.

"I shall keep both houses for you," Alfred explained, and his eyes shone with uncried tears, "Masta' Wayne, in fighting trim for your return."

Bruce's heart ached, but all his face could manage was a tiny tiny faint faint smile. "Still haven't given up on me, Alfred?"

Alfred's smile mirrored Bruce's perfectly, and his eyes shone all the brighter. He leaned forward slightly, his voice a hopeful hush: "Neva'."

Bruce nodded. Simply nodded. And his eyes spoke volumes and tomes and libraries.

Then he turned from both men, slid into the back seat of the town-car, and in a scrape of tires upon gravel and a cloud of Texas dust, he was gone.

Alfred and Damian stood there for a moment, still and silent, and watched him 'till he was out of sight.

Then Damian turned to Alfred as though commenting on the weather: "White Knight. Shall we rejoin the others?"

Alfred nodded. "Let's shall, lad."

And they, in turn, turned to walk back into the ranch house.

As they walked, Alfred glanced at Damian. "'White Knight.' 'Dark Knight.' Your terminology, sa', lends itself to a certain theme. Might I say, you seem to 'ave an un'ealthy fascination with chivalry and knighthood."

Despite himself, Damian found this quite amusing. "Just wait until you meet Jean Paul."

Alfred arched an eyebrow, and waited for Damian to say more.

They walked the rest of the way to the library in silence.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Lex

Bruce glanced back over his shoulder, at the man being seen by bejumpsuited Gen-Tech hired guns into a limo with blackened windows, a man who wore a hood that shut out the world, a hood reminiscent of Dumas, a hood worn in between Iron Masks. Bruce watched as Lex Luthor's limo rolled away, kicking up dust on its way to a local airport and a waiting LuthorCorp jet.

Lex waited in darkness.

Lex presented infinite patience.

Until he felt the cold leather of the limousine's seat against his fingertips beside his hip. Until he heard the door close and the sounds of the world become muffled against the glass and the chassis of the vehicle. Until he felt the thrumble of the limo's engine, and the inertia of the limo's forward motion.

And then he reached up with hands curled like claws and hauled the mask off of his face, gasping and seething and hurling the bundle of cloth aside.

Immediately, his eyes danced from side to side in the enclosed space. The windows were darkened; he could not see out, and as his head whipped around, he found that so, too, was the rear windshield.

Lex grunted, and thudded his fist emphatically against the seat, teeth gritted.

He would have liked to have gotten a glimpse, perhaps, of the bastard that had thrashed him so thoroughly after getting the drop on him with a flash-bang.

He turned to settle back on the seat, sitting properly.

He could see the driver up front through tinted glass.

Lex's lip twitched. Gen-Tech.

I wonder if all their employees are as insufferable as Bekka Greystone and her pet Wraith?

He extended a finger and takked the key for the intercom.

"You know," he suggested with mordant humour, "there's a feel of the gallows about all this. Putting a hood over my head, driving me to an undisclosed location. Makes me feel like I'm being brought to a concentration camp. Or perhaps when I get out of this car, my first stop will be a brick wall, and you'll kindly provide me a blindfold and a lit cigarette?"

The driver pressed the button to reply, and his voice filtered through the speaker: "Miz Greystone has everything arranged, sir. She called ahead while you all were in the air. A LuthorCorp jet is waiting for you at El Paso International, dispatched from Metropolis."

Lex arched an eyebrow. "Ah. I see. So you're sending me back to my father. I suppose that's a little bit better than a firing squad."

He pursed his lips, and his face tightened around his eyes.

"Could I at least get something to read?"

Smooth as silk, the driver replied: "Overhead compartment to your left, sir."

Lex smiled faintly, and reached up, and opened the compartment.

There he found The Wall-Street Journal, The Daily Planet, and the latest issue of Forbes.

And in these fine periodicals, there was also included an envelope, a yellow envelope for mailing things. Lex's lips twitched into an almost smile.

Bekka, he mused. Are you about to blackmail me?

Club Zero was a long time ago.

And as he expected, he found a photograph in the envelope. But the photo was not what he expected.

It was The Pegasus.

Attached to the photo was a Post-It note, scrawled in Greystone's handwriting: 'Thank you for flying the friendly skies. -B.G.'

Lex turned a whiter shade of pale. The thing was gorgeous. The thing was cutting-edge. Had he just been onboard that thing? Only hours after lamenting that his plane was not the fastest thing in the sky, he'd been aboard Gen-Tech's next-gen pride and joy?

He whipped around again, looked back the way they'd come, glaring fruitlessly through the black glass of the limo's window.

He glanced down at the photo in his hand. Reread the note.

"Son of a bitch," he declared.

And then leaned back in his seat and started to laugh...

His laugh echoed in the limousine, and it was loud enough that the driver did not need to lower the tinted glass nor switch on the intercom to hear him.

He laughed most of the way to the airport.

When he climbed out of the limo, as promised, a LuthorCorp jet was waiting for him.

Despite himself, Lex hesitated. He remembered just exactly what had happened to the last one.

But at the top of the gangplank stood someone he trusted.

"Mercy," he smiled thinly, striding up the gangplank to meet her.

The beautiful auburn-haired woman smiled thinly at him in reply. Cool and calm.

"Mister Luthor," she intoned. "It's good to see you're in one piece. There were a variety of confusions regarding your location. Some said you were aboard a plane that went down just before all the madness with the worldwide power grids and The Internet. That you were aboard a corporate jet that crashed at the same time as that Korean Air liner. Some said you crashed near that strange transmission of the man who wanted to rule the world."

Lex smiled faintly. "I'll spare you the obvious Mark Twain reference."

Mercy nodded easily. "Something Biblical, then?"

Lex appeared to chew on this. "Leviticus 24:22. 'You shall have one law for the alien and for the citizen: for I am the Lord your God.'"

Intrigued, Mercy arched two slender red-brown eyebrows. "Not the bit of Scripture I was thinking of, exactly."

Moving past her into the jet, Lex squared his jaw grimly. "It doesn't matter where you're from, what you're made of, what constellations you see in your sky or even the colour of your Sun, you hurt my native-born people, you encroach upon my world, then you answer to me."

Mercy nodded, disengaging the gangplank and hauling shut the door behind them. "Of course, sir."

Lex slithered down to sit in one of the comfortable seats, and he gazed up at Mercy with eyes like a man of steel.

"Get my father on the phone."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Wraith

"You just got what?????" I said not that quietly, stepping out from the shadows of the dumpster.

Damn! That guy hadn't gotten any smaller since I last saw him!

Then the world just stopped.

Her hair was blowing in the breeze, her cheeks a little red and her eyes, they shone so brightly. The light matched by that of her smile.

I think my heart stopped beating a second , just in awe of her.

"You called M'Lady? You only have to wish it, and I shall be at your side in a whispered moment."

 

[AmenRa]

Thor

When last the Thunder God saw The Wraith, he had mistakenly named him a demon of the storm. Thor knew, now, that this was no demon, but a creature born of Shadow, with powers beyond those of the mortals.

What Thor also knew was this Wraith, although contained within a shell that emanated niether hot nor cold, nor heartbeat or breath, meant nothing but good.

Thor gave him a nod of greeting, the silver of his winged helm glinting in the sunlight.

"Hail," Thor said to him.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Rose

"You just got what?????" Wraith said not that quietly, stepping out from the shadows of the dumpster.

Rose opened her mouth, and shut it again. And grinned a sheepish grin.

"He just," she attempted to explain, "I mean, I think I'm one of his guildies now. But there was this ceremonial gesturing with The Big Fuck-Off Mallet, so it was like he was-- I said I got-- that totally came out wrong. I didn't get hammered, I don't even drink coffee."

She rolled her eyes, and laughed at herself softly. "I'm such a lightweight I get wasted on lactose. And I tell you what, those hangovers are a sprocking bastich."

"You called M'Lady? You only have to wish it, and I shall be at your side in a whispered moment."

Rose's grin broadened, as if that were even possible, and she slung an arm around Wraith's shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.

"After the week I've had, this is a pretty good turn of events," she admitted. "Not one but two magickal superfellas talking to me in Ren-Faire. Mighty Thor, this is Wraith. Wraith, this is The Mighty Thor."

Thor gave him a nod of greeting, the silver of his winged helm glinting in the sunlight.

"Hail," Thor said to him.

Not realising that Thor's insight had granted him this knowledge already, Rose continued: "See, Wraith isn't from any kind of Hell, not one 'l' or two 'l's, he gets his powers from a place called Shadow, which I guess is the next branch over from Midgard on The World Tree or something."

Rose paused, and looked around, and gave Kyle a funny look. "Hey," she paused, "is our favourite flaxen-haired extee anywhere about? She might want to bury the hatchet with this guy, too, he seems pretty stalwart."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Wraith

"She should be here soon. She actually challenged me to a race to meet up with you."

I looked over at the blond haired giant.

"Greetings, Scion of Storms. I bid thee welcome to the land of my birth, and offer Shadows hand in friendship upon this Realm."
Where the hell had THAT come from??? I never talked like that!

I looked back at a wide-eyed Rose, and thankfully my tongue followed orders this time.

"Actually I wanted to talk to you about our flaxen haired super girl. I think she should head back home to her parents and let us go wrap things up with the Outsiders. the fewer people that know who she is, the better. I trust just about everyone there, but I don't trust Merics Grandpa, and don't know who is there since we left."

 

[AmenRa]

Thor listened to Rose with a look of amusement on his face. Her introduction was colorful, and her lightened mood served to make the Thunder God smile.

"I know something of Shadow," Thor explained to them. "For in That Place there exists the World Serpent, a dragon of great power and Master of the Dark," he said. Thor seemed to look off into the distance for a moment, as if he was remembering another time.

Thor turned to look at The Wraith fully. "As you are a protector of this realm," he explained, "I welcome you as a brother." Thor finished with another bow of his head. He then looked into the sky, where clouds were gathering high in the stratosphere. "If the other, the one who bears the mark of the Traveler, is on her way here, then I think that she should be here with us now?"

Thor's expression turned serious. "I fear mischief has set its foot upon us once again," he stated.

 

[Lunaramblings]

Edmund Tennylson grinned at his son. It had been too long since they had spent time together.

"So you know, son, I am done. I turned down the last job I had lined up. I am through with it all. The League can kiss my ass. Come to think of it, so can Uncle Sam." Edmund takes out his case once more and hands it to Dale. "I am almost out. I want you to do your thing with this though."

"Dad! I told you..."

Edmund pauses and grins at the look of anger flashing across Dale's face. "Yer other thing ya damned fool. All that equipment I sent to you. I want you to fix this. I don't care how. Just make it happen. And when you do, I want you to supply it. Free to every police and government agency in the country. The fella's from DC wanted to try to make some type o' super soldiers with it. Couldn't make it work though. Seems to be something in our blood son, something that makes it work for us." Edmund looks toward Ceri.

"One other thing... I have decided I am coming back to Smallville. I have something I wanna do."

"I don't know. I mean. All of this. There's so much happening. I don't know if this is a good idea, Dad.

"Then I will stay at a hotel. Gotta have at least one in the area right?"

"No Edmund. You will not." Marcy steps forward. Confident. Strong "We have had our battles Edmund. More than I care to remember. But... I would rather have you where I can see you. Given what you have been a part of. And let me warn you... you hurt my son, or his friends, and make no mistake I will cut off your balls and shove them straight up yer ass. Let's see that stupid grin then." Without a word, without waiting, Marcy turns and walks away. Sitting herself in a chair beside a book case.

Edmund stands quite. Not grinning. Not even a little.

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

Kara Zor-El had run away from many things, but everything always worked out in the end. She had been able to accept who she was, even if she didn't fully understand where her abilities would lead her. She had been able to trust in her friends, and with their help she was able to send General Zod back to the Phantom Zone.

But now she was running away from human beings who wanted to either kill her or capture her, neither of which seemed particularly interesting to the young Kryptonian. She hadn't exactly bothered to ask them what their plans for her were, but she also had no intention of ever finding out. Right now, all she was concerned with was getting to the hospital, and then back to her house where she would tell her parents what had happened.

Hopefully they might know what to do.

Continuing on down the road, Kara could just picture Rose and Kyle waiting for her, and she knew that Kyle would probably never let her live down the fact that he had beaten her in a race. But even so she wasn't mad at losing, rather she was just thankful that she could at least see her friends, and hopefully avoid any more road blocks.

Just as soon as Kara thought that she was in the clear, she heard some noises that one normally doesn't hear in a town like Smallville.

Gun shots.

Kara stopped running and tried to focus her hearing, hoping to discern the location of the gunfire. In some corner of her mind she knew that she should have continued on, but she just had to stop.

Someone... something might be in trouble... and she could be the one to help. If she ran from this... there was no way she could ever forgive herself.

"My parents are gonna kill me," Kara said to herself.

Kyle and Rose would have to wait.

When Kara heard a few more gun shots and the sound of men shouting, she was able to figure out where the sound came from. Once more she took off running, but this time she made her way towards where the danger was sure to be. What she found when she got there... it took her breath away. A dozen or more soldiers, dressed just like the ones she had recently escaped from, were lying on the ground in a piled mess, and Kara didn't even have to examine them to know that they were probably dead.

And she knew the reason why.

Standing over the fallen bodies was a titan of a man, and Kara figured he must have weighed at least four or five hundred pounds easily. He gave off an aura of anger and violence that it made even Kara question whether taking him on would be a wise decision.

This man wasn't human... Kara knew that in her heart.

But where he was from she didn't exactly know.

All she knew was that he had to be stopped before anyone else got hurt.

"KRPYTONIAN!"

The way the giant called out to her, it almost made Kara lose her nerves again.

There was no doubting it now.

He had to be a phantom.

And he had apparently followed her all the way to Smallville!

Kara felt for the Crystal of El in her pocket, but she had no time to draw it out. The earth beneath her feet shook violently as the behemoth charged at her, and Kara had but a few split seconds to move out of the way. She barely managed to dodge a punch that would have probably knocked her senseless, and the titan angrily connected with nothing but air. Clenching her fists together, Kara took advantage of her opponents misguided attack by punching him as hard as she could into his side, and the titan was sent sprawling to the ground.

Despite his massive size, however, Titan was quick to get back onto his feet, and as Kara moved in for a strong kick he grabbed at her leg and hauled her off the ground, slamming her back into the earth and leaving a deep rend in the earth. Once again Titan aimed a punch for the fallen Kryptonian, but Kara super-sped out of the way, leaving her opponent with nothing to strike at but dirt. So far her speed had managed to keep her one step ahead of the mammoth brute, but Titan was completely unrelenting in his assault, and he charged at her once again.

This time, however, Kara was not able to dodge his attack, and when his fist connected with her face it felt as if she had just been struck by… well… she didn’t really know what to compare it to.

But it hurt.

Though she had been sent tumbling to the ground, Kara quickly regained her composure and managed to parry one of Titans’ attacks before she punched him squarely in the chest. Though her attack only managed to knock him back a few steps, Kara flew straight at him and used both her fists to pound him into submission. Titan took the beating, but he was more than ready to return the favor.

As Kara aimed another punch, Titan reached out and grabbed her fist in his larger hand, keeping her in place so that he could strike back. Kara actually cried out in pain when he punched her in the stomach, and she even coughed up a little bit of blood. Encouraged by her agony, Titan repeated the process a few more times until he finally let go, and by then Kara felt as if she could barely move.

“Time to die, Kryptonian,” Titan said as he looked down at her.

Kara Zor-El, however, would not allow herself to be defeated so quickly and easily. Though bruised and bloodied, Kara was able to recover most of her strength thanks to the yellow sun, and she felt her entire body being constantly rejuvenated as its warm rays poured out over her.

As Titan moved in for the kill, Kara rolled out of the way and pushed herself off the ground and back onto her feet. Once again she flew straight at her opponent, and she unleashed a flurry of attacks that left even the Zoner gasping for air. Though Titan stood back on his feet, Kara could see that he was very much disoriented, stumbling this way and that as blood seeped out from his wounds.

Wounds that, unlike Kara’s, would not heal right away.

Titan aimed a sluggish punch at the blond Kryptonian, and all Kara had to do was swat his arm away. She punched him dead on again, only this time Titan didn’t get up again. Though she didn’t have the strength or will to end his life, Kara was more than happy with knowing that she had put an end to a very serious threat.

“I suggest you stay down,” Kara said to the fallen titan as she wiped some blood away from her lip. The wound stung for a moment, but under the yellow sunlight it healed almost instantly.

She would send him back to the Phantom Zone.

That's where he belonged.

Suddenly Kara felt something very tiny pinch her neck, and almost immediately she felt her strength being drained away. As she was falling to the ground, Kara saw through her blurring vision more soldiers arrive at the battlefield, and one of them seemed to be holding a glowing green rock to her face. The combination of the liquid kryptonite in the tranquilizer dart and the meteor rock together caused Kara to writhe in pain on the ground, but no one seemed to care that she was hurting.

“Call it in,” one of the soldiers said, and another quickly pulled out his radio and relayed the order.

 

[AmenRa]

The Martian Manhunter arrives

Distance is a small thing when one can fly at speeds beyond human comprehension. Such was the speed at which J'onn J'onzz traveled, accompanied by Var-Sen and Raya.

The Green Martian descended through a cloud bank, coming to rest lightly on his feet near the aircraft that had brought his friends back from the Far East.

J'onn was almost immediately joined by Var-Sen.

They stood there together quietly for a minute.

Then, Var-Sen couldn't help it any longer. The totality of what had recently occurred caught up with him, and this, coupled with the imminent reunion with humans that he had come to care so much about, burst. Var-Sen began laughing, a hearty laugh that caused him to temporarily lose his balance, and he had to grab J'onn's shoulder to keep from falling.