Today,
Los Angeles, October 2480
The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord Chaos
The attack on Los Angeles was not entirely
unexpected but arrived totally without warning. The occupying alien
forces had prevented any form of travel between states and countries;
mysteriously observing the geo-political borders of the era rather than
dividing the country up as they willed. Nonetheless, wherever you
happened to be the day the Alliance invaded, that was where you stayed.
The alien forces were reputed to have fallen on city
after city in attacks that were believed to have decimated the local
populations, according to eyewitness testimony; only to have those same
populations reappear later with no memories of their experiences. This
led to great distrust amidst the few surviving rebel networks, as each
city was processed by the occupiers, its inhabitants became suspect in
the eyes of those for whom such an event had yet to occur. There were
unconfirmed suspicions of cloning, mind control or possession, some
unsubstantiated rumours about the implantation of life forms into human
hosts but nothing that could be proven. Nevertheless, it served to
drive a wedge between the human settlements, hampering any form of
coordinated resistance that could have been mounted.
One of the most curious facts was that the death
toll was kept to a minimum. Despite the obvious hostility that many of
the Alliance races held towards humanity, such as the brutal Khund, the
manipulative Dominators or the shape-shifting Durlans; the combined
efforts of the Almeracians, Rannians, Korugarians and Xudarians, long
thought to be allies of Earth or at least neutral powers, prevented any
form of mass slaughter. The standing orders by which the occupying
forces appeared to operate were preserve and contain. Gordanian troops
had reportedly speculated that humanity was to be enslaved, but then
the Gordanians viewed all other races as slave material. Even the Vegan
Citadel troopers, not known for either intelligence or diligence seemed
to have been terrified into towing the line.
Any metahumans that had been discovered during these
raids upon the many cities of this planet had been detained, possibly
as subjects for the research of the Psions, but again such claims were
speculation.
As the sun rose over the City Of Angels however, it
was obvious that its time had come. Durlan agents had infiltrated the
populace that until this point had remained free of any alien
interference, and surreptitiously placed Zeta-Beam receivers in
strategic locations. As Thanagarian Hawk-patrols swooped down onto the
city, Citadel and Branx warriors, Khund soldiers and Xudarian infantry
materialised on the streets.
Anyone caught in their sights were instantly
atomised, vanishing in a nimbus of crackling energy. Panic was
widespread but there was nowhere for the populace to flee. By
mid-morning half of the population of Los Angeles had disappeared under
the energy blasts of the alien weaponry. The Durlans shifted their
forms into various beasts, the only description of, which could be
functional, as hunting hounds that located those who had the wisdom to
hide. Almeracian telepaths followed them, discovering those who had
hidden themselves more successfully.
Amidst all this panic, the Reverse-Flash Task Force,
more commonly known as the Renegades, arrived in the city by virtue of
the Mirror Monarch's technology, walking out of a reflective window in
the business district, which had remained reasonably untouched by the
chaos so far.
Mounting his jet-sled, a self-propelled glowing
body-board, Commander Cold hoisted his Cold guns aloft. "Move out team.
Mirror Monarch, you evacuate anybody we find, use your truth mirror to
ensure there are no Durlans among them. Top, locate any survivors, and
bring them here. Trixster, protect the Mirror Monarch at all costs;
he's our way out of here. Heatstroke, Weather Warlock, you're with me."
The Weather Warlock lifted the wand in his hand
towards the sky. The dark clouds immediately became darker; beginning
to roll as lightning skittered across them followed by peals of
thunder. The wind rose, and across the city the Hawk-patrols struggled
to stay aloft. "Let's make things more difficult for them, eh?"
"Keep the winds at a higher altitude, Warlock," Cold
ordered. "I don't want our sleds to have to fight the storm as well."
As the trio sped on their boards towards the
greatest concentration of residential buildings in sight, Heatstroke
whooped aloud. This was the part of his job that he adored, the wind in
his face as he hurtled towards the enemy. Noticing a beaked Xudarian
directing a number of the squat Khund troopers and unaware of how
bizarre a sight that truly was, he unleashed a thermal blast in their
direction, heating the plasticrete beneath their feet so rapidly it
exploded. Commander Cold then encased the aliens in ice, and glided
past them towards a small family that had been in their sights.
"Head towards the Thawne Media building," he
instructed them. We can get you out of here from there."
"Trouble!" The Warlock pointed ahead. In red armour
with white helmets, Rannian troops had activated their rocket packs and
were flying under the winds that had disabled their hated allies, the
Thanagarians. Waving his wand in their direction, the Warlock summoned
a lightning strike that took out two of them, but a third got the
Renegade in his sights, pulled the trigger and the Warlock faded from
view.
"Heatstroke!" Cold commanded, and he felt the rush
of heat from his left-hand side as his fellow Renegade lashed out with
his suit's powers. Another burst of blaster fire however, and Cold
turned to see his long-time colleague turn spectral and vanish.
"No!" he screamed, and formed an ice shield around
himself, blocking the fire of the Rannians even as he turned his sled
and prepared to take another route. The Xudarian whom he had entombed
in ice earlier stood in his path, water dripping from his orange skin
and purple uniform as he had used his suit's environmental systems to
thaw himself to freedom. The alien's wide eyes were unblinking as it
raised its blaster and shot Commander Cold as the Renegade attempted to
fly directly over him.
Cold felt a tingling sensation, and a complete
absence of the pain he had expected. The world faded to blackness for a
second, then dissolved into a multi-coloured display much akin to
fireworks, then slowly took shape once more. As his eyes adjusted to
the gloom, he tried to relax his muscles that he had tensed in
anticipation of the blaster fire. Cramps running up and down his limbs
showed that not only could he not relax, he could not even move. He was
trapped, in a tube of light, in a massive chamber full of such tubes,
each some two feet away from each other. From his viewpoint, he could
not see the walls of the chamber, just endless tubes repeating off into
the distance.
In front of him stood a reptilian Psion, holding
some form of portable scanner. It leant forward, peering through the
stasis beam at him, then looked down to some form of control panel. At
least that was what Cold assumed the creature was looking at; the tube
that stood behind it had a control panel on a small pedestal next to
it, but Cold was unable even to move his eyes. Fortunately there was
little sensation; the only thing that appeared to be active was his
mind. There was another person trapped in the tube, but it was a
stranger, not his fellow renegade. A man of about thirty years old in
janitor's overalls.
The Psion pressed a communicator badge. "Inform
Commander Brainiac we have three new metahumans, target not yet
located."
It pressed another button on its handheld device,
and the janitor disappeared out of the tube. Now it was transparent,
and Cold could see another row of tubes behind it, containing more
civilians. The inhabitants of that row of tubes faded from view with a
gentle hissing sound, then the next row of inhabitants vanished, and so
on until he could no longer make out any details.
"Storage cube Aleea Theta complete," reported the
Psion. "Ready for the next delivery, excluding C-Thirteen, D-Five and
Seven-Dax chambers. Log those for metahuman processing."
Today, Arkham Asylum,
Gotham City, October 1992 The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord
Chaos
Arkham Asylum had many security precautions,
repeatedly upgraded over the years after a succession of incidents. The
Asylum management currently considered the building nigh impossible to
break out of, an assertion that had been shattered many times over the
years. Resources had been invested in recent times into preventing
people from breaking in as well. One would think that there were few
people who would want to break into an asylum, but with the Gotham
criminal fraternities being dominated by lunatics of all descriptions,
there had been multiple attempts of outside forces attempting to
liberate those who should best be kept away from the public. In the
majority of people’s opinions, the patients of Arkham should not
just be locked up but the keys be thrown away as well.
None of these defences could withstand an assault by
an enraged champion of the Amazons however, especially when fuelled by
a sheer undiluted hate. Even if the hideous mask had fallen away from
the Wonder Woman's face, her features were contorted with such malice
that she was unrecognisable as the former emissary of peace to
Patriot’s world.
As the debris fell as the Amazon smashed through
wall after wall and the wind grabbed hold of the dust clouds thus
generated, three tall figures followed the warrior, gliding some three
feet above the ground. As the light reflected from their skin, the
terrified staff and patients of the Asylum saw them to be covered in a
blue metallic sheen, which only added to their unnatural aspect. Bar
their forward motion as they glided along, they were entirely
motionless.
"Locate!" ordered Wunda, as she spied three
orderlies fleeing into the night. Grabbing a chunk of wall that lay at
her feet, she thrust it into the air and grunted with satisfaction as
it crushed the three men as they ran, impacting their lower spines and
crushing their legs. As the bricks forced the men to the ground and
shattered their pelvises, Diana was pleasured by the fact that their
death was not immediate. It was a shame that she did not have the time
to bathe in their suffering, but as ever the Dark Lord demanded her
service.
"::Subject Alpha: Unidentified Anomaly. Tracking
Mode Engaged. Location: There::" The Observational Metahuman Activity
Construct pointed towards a section of the Asylum that remained
standing, if somewhat precariously.
Walking over to where the Multiplex had indicated,
the Amazon tore aside the wall in a shower of bricks. Behind it lay a
man bound in a dirty grey straitjacket, his face concealed by a
featureless golden mask. Black hair erupting over the top of the mask,
it also had holes for the man's eyes, yet all that could be seen were
two white voids. Whimpering, he had forced himself against the far
wall, in fear of the cacophonic noises of destruction and death. Yet as
the Amazon walked purposefully towards him, he lifted his head
inquisitively, and leaned towards her.
"I can feel your hate, you know." Even though his
mouth was covered by metal, his voice was crystal clear. It contained a
slight tremor, but it almost felt melodious. "Even through all the
drugs, I can feel your hate. You're from elsewhere, aren't you? Another
Earth? Finally!"
Diana did not approve of melody. With the barest tap
on his head she knocked the man unconscious, and hefted him over her
shoulder.
"::Subject Alpha Identified. Roger Hayden the
Psycho-Pirate.::"
The Amazon strode away from the wreckage of the
Asylum, the OMACs gliding silently behind her. Heedless of the flames
at her back or the cries of the injured, she flicked a hidden switch on
her mask near her eye. "We are justified," she reported.
Today, Naltor, October 3015 The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord
Chaos
Nura Nal, the High Seer of Naltor looked up with
trepidation as the Imperial Shuttle approached for landing. She did not
need her prophetic visions to know that this ship carried the Most High
Monarch. The insignia along the side of the vessel denoted his presence
on board, and the military state of alert had been raised to the prime
level.
Shuddering, she wondered what would happen during
this visit, and if she could ensure the survival of her world. This
would be the third time she met the Monarch in person. The first was to
offer the surrender of Naltor before his superior firepower, for which
he had installed her as Regent in his name. After all it had been her
foresight that had prevented any form of resistance, her visions only
confirming what any military strategist could have said; Naltor did not
have the ability to resist a force of enraged Daxamites led by the
armoured conqueror of that race.
The second had been to deliver a prophecy of
Monarch's defeat, at the hands of a young Coluan child. How the tyrant
had even learnt of her vision, she did not know. She could only assume
that there were telepathic spies within her court, presumably Titanian.
Before the coming of Monarch, Titanians had been legally required to
identify themselves by wearing the symbol of the planet Saturn; not so
much to ostracise them or discriminate against them, but to warn all
nearby that their surface thoughts were not private. Of course, such
discrimination had naturally resulted. The telepaths were always a
target for suspicion, and the civil rights movements had been horrified
at the treatment of one of the core United Planet's races.
One could argue whether the Titanians' situation had
improved or not. With the coming of the Monarch, civil rights had gone
flying out the window, but then neither were the Titanians forced to
wear the identifying insignia any longer. In a region of the galaxy
practically dominated by human-seeming races, at least to the eye, the
Titanians became Monarch's eyes and ears.
There were far worse fates to be had. The Braalians,
with their powers of magnetism had been forced to work as miners,
whether planet-side or in asteroid fields; ravaging entire worlds for
every drop of metal their powers could grasp. The natives of Cargg had
resisted Monarch's reign, using their powers to split themselves into
three identical bodies as a means of infiltration and espionage. In
revenge, Monarch had destroyed their home planet.
Monarch's liaison to Naltor, the haughty Delya
Castil, stood next to Nura as the shuttle touched down on the launch
pad. "Everything is ready for the arrival of our liege."
It should have been a question, but Nura winced at
the pride she heard in the woman's voice, the self-assuredness that
made quite clear just exactly where the High Seer stood in the pecking
order.
"Yes, it is," she replied, quickly running her eyes
along the rows of dignitaries assembled to greet the tyrant. Her gaze
was held momentarily by the resident Naltor Observer from the Dark
Circle cult, the methane-breathing Hykraian Bishop Ganglios, his
pupil-less green eyes peering out of his re-breathing helmet, showing
neither friendship nor hostility. The amphibious creature balanced on
his massive forelegs, his large yellow tail flicking from side to side
in a gesture Nura had learned to recognise as anticipation. Next to him
stood a row of her Ministers; Public Works, Immigration, Prophecy
Collation, Defence; yet just like the High Seer these roles were purely
administrative. Despite the illusion of authority, their directives
came from Monarch himself.
Now Nura would be forced to reveal a third vision to
the tyrant, one that he was unlikely to receive gracefully. Yet another
spectre of his defeat at the hands of the Coluan, it was a prophecy
Nura had kept to herself, not even allowing its entry into the Dream
Net. However, nothing was secret nowadays.
With a gentle thud, the shuttle settled into place
on the plasticrete. A side portal opened, and a ramp extended to the
ground. As the Daxamite Honour Guard marched out of the shuttle, taking
their positions either side of the ramp and garbed in their crisp black
uniforms, decorated by a simple triangle formed of white lines over
their left breast; the Naltoran State Orchestra began the first bars of
the traditional march to greet foreign dignitaries.
Upon the first crescendo, the armoured form of
Monarch strode out of the shuttle. The glorious sunshine of Naltor
reflected from his metallic breastplate and from the golden headband
that wrapped around his blue facemask. Purposefully he walked straight
up to Nura, and held his hand out to the High Seer as she curtseyed in
greeting.
"We must talk, High Seer." The Monarch's tone was
perfectly cordial, which only served to chill Nura's heart. "I believe
you have something to tell me. I do not appreciate being kept in the
dark by one of my most valued allies."
"I understand, my lord," Nura stammered in reply.
"Yet I hope this will not be proven to be a wasted journey. What I have
to impart makes little sense, I had hoped to wait for further
revelation..."
"Enough!" The Monarch snapped. "You of all people
should understand time is always of the essence. I would speak of this
in private."
Turning briefly to wave in response to the somewhat
forced cheering of the crowds gathered to welcome him to Naltor,
Monarch allowed himself to be led into the Palace of the High Seer.
Delya Castil fell into place behind him, and Monarch’s assistant,
the enigmatic woman known as the Saturn Queen, allegedly the head of
Monarch’s intelligence agency, joined her.
The Daxamite Honour Guard remained in station around
the shuttle, but that was little comfort. They were as empowered
beneath the yellow sunlight of Naltor as they would be on Earth,
possessing abilities comparable to the legendary Superman. They could
be at Monarch's side in a fraction of a second, and their super-hearing
would monitor every interaction of their master, unless they were
ordered to the contrary.
Within moments, the quartet was in Nura's private
audience chamber. Monarch seated himself in Nura's throne, and steepled
his fingers together before his mask.
"Well?"
"My Lord..." Nura began.
"No excuses, no prevaricating, Nal. What did you
see?"
"What I saw," she paused to compose herself, "made
little sense. I saw the Coluan. I think he was on Earth but not in the
present or the future, but in the past. He was seeking the origin of a
pirate, Roxxas was the name that I saw, the pirate responsible for the
destruction of the Tromites."
Upon the mention of the name, Nura saw Monarch
clench his fist aggressively, the first physical demonstration of
emotion since his arrival. This reaction seemed to add context to her
vision, and she continued.
"The Coluan seemed to be the mastermind behind the
second Alliance Invasion of Earth, or he was using it as a cover for
locating Roxxas. However, I checked. Anton Roxxas was not even born
then, he must be seeking his ancestor. If he finds him, erm, found him,
you would be undone.
"Yet that is not all. His actions are... were
disrupted, by the arrival of a great darkness. Creatures of such
horror, that as I perceived them, I awoke immediately. However, I know
they are changing things, and these creatures will destroy us all; but
such was my fear, I could not perceive the details."
Monarch settled back into the throne. Nura felt as
if a conversation was passing between him, the Saturn Queen and her
liaison. Several moments of silence ensued, until the Monarch finally
spoke.
"Keep me informed. In fact, I rather think it is
time for Naltor to make a State Visit to its very special ally Earth.
You will accompany us on our return journey. Make the arrangements, we
leave within the hour."
"Yes my Lord." Nura curtseyed once more and excused
herself from the room. Her relief was short-lived however; merely the
first hurdle had been overcome. Ordering a maid to gather her cosmetic
supplies and clothes for the journey, Nura could only cross her
fingers. There would be greater hurdles ahead, she had no need for her
prophetic abilities to divine that much.
Today, Metropolis, October 1992 The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord
Chaos
The elevator door opened with a slight hiss, and
Supergirl walked into the darkened control room. She really didn't know
why the son of Lex Luthor preferred to sit in such shaded surrounding,
the only illumination being provided by his many monitor screens.
Coming from the apocalyptic Earth that had been created in a pocket
universe by some entity called the Time Trapper in his eternal battle
against a future team called the Legion Of Super-Heroes, neither of
which she had met; the woman known as Matrix (or Mae for short) adored
the sunshine. It was not only responsible for her fantastic powers, but
compared to the dark skies of her own world, it was an absolute
pleasure.
"I have a little favor to ask of you." Luthor Junior
could not quite see his new toy as the light from the elevator caused
Supergirl to appear only as a silhouette. That was a design feature he
would need to amend, he noted, as he manipulated the intercom keypad.
"Yes?" she replied. Kal had expressed some doubts
about this new Luthor, and although Mae believed them to be groundless,
she was in a less than charitable mood today.
"There's...." Noticing her disposition, Lex took the
time to choose his words carefully. He was aware of what a
temperamental beast the Matrix could be and had no wish to be the
target of her frustrations, especially not in his inner sanctum. "... a
poor sad boy who I want to help. Sad and deluded!"
"Oh?" She responded, seemingly disinterested.
"I was wondering if you would go to him and persuade
him to return with you. For his own good, of course." Lex winced
inwardly even as he uttered the last comment, but the Matrix seemed to
accept his sincerity.
"Oh, I'll get him, Lex." The determination to please
him appeared written across her face. She was turning into exactly the
tool Luthor wanted her to be. "One way or another."
As she turned to leave in the elevator, the
businessman's attention was drawn back to the camera feed. The focus of
his attention was the Daxamite Lar Gand. Known as the hero Valor, Lar
had been inspired by his father's heroic acts during the Dominator-led
invasion of Earth, and briefly joined the interstellar police force
L.E.G.I.O.N. prior to being instrumental in the recent defeat of
Eclipso on the Moon. Since that point, he appeared to be making Earth
his home, at least for the time being.
'Not good,' thought Lex, as he watched the Daxamite
create some form of twisted metal sculpture out in the desert. 'Lar
Gand is stronger and more resourceful than I originally expected. It's
possible he could upset my current plans, which is why I sent a cat to
skin a cat.'
He smiled to himself, stroking his beard before
standing walking from his basement office into another part of his
underground complex. As he approached a pair of massive hangar doors
emblazoned with the phrase TOP SECRET across them, they opened
automatically to let him past. It was true that the sign was hardly
subtle, but then it was another truth that anyone who got as far as to
see the doors; Luthor, body and soul, would own them. As ever,
ownership was very much at the forefront of his mind.
'The girl I can control, but the boy is another
matter! He is too wild! Too inquisitive. Valor trusts me now, even
looks up to me, but all that could change. I have to get him out of the
way before that happens.
'Far out of the way.'
The Matrix barely gave Metropolis a second glance as
she flew from the top of LexCorp Tower. There had obviously been a
severe battle fought around the business and retail districts, but the
action seemed to have passed by now. Whatever it was, Mae was certain
her supposed cousin could handle it. She set her sights on the location
that Lex had given to her, and poured on the speed.
Some two hundred miles later, Matrix was caught
unaware as she was knocked from her path by an immense force that
ploughed into her ribs. She screamed, more in shock than pain,
spiralling down to the earth as she attempted to correct her flight.
She caught sight of a familiar red and blue blur as the ground rose up
to meet her, yet it was curiously shrouded in shadow.
"Kal?" Her question was hesitant. It was not as if
they hadn't come to blows before; their very first meeting had resulted
in conflict. Yet there had always been a reason; back then it was a
combination of misunderstanding and amnesia. Subsequent encounters had
always been motivated by both of them acting according to what they
thought was best.
What could have possibly precipitated this?
Before she had even come to her feet, a yellow arrow
hurtled through the air, hitting her directly in the chest. Upon
contact it exploded, and the Matrix found herself constricted by bands
of yellow energy. Struggling against them, she found that something in
the bands inhibited her strength. Either she was as weak as a kitten,
or the bands were ones her cousin would struggle with. The Matrix
attempted to shape-shift out of them by assuming a slimmer form. That
ability was unresponsive. Finally she tried to push against her bonds
with her telekinesis.
She may as well have whistled, for all the good it
did. Her mind could not even feel the shape of the force that
imprisoned her, never mind generated a counter force. Her powers
deserted her.
"Oh, you wish it was your cousin." The strangely
shadowed form of Superman stood over her, laughing. Only then did Mae
see the half-moon tattoo across his face.
"Eclipso," she whimpered, her energy leaving her as
unconsciousness beckoned.
The Qwardian warrior who had unleashed the prison
arrow walked up behind the pair. "Somehow I thought she would be
tougher than this," he commented derisively, kicking dirt into her
face. "Across the Qward Continuum, she is recognised as a Qwa-angel,
the most despised of them all, who defeated our former master."
"Not this one." Eclipso hefted Supergirl's limp form
over his shoulder. "And no angel either. Not this time."
War Arrow looked blankly at the demon, not really
understanding his reference. He had hoped for a greater challenge, yet
any victory was a step closer to the goal. The day would come when his
master would rise once more and engulf the despised matter-worlds,
acting as the herald for the return of the Overthrown One.
Tapping his belt button, War Arrow activated his
teleportation field, and the trio disappeared in an explosion of
impossible colours.
The 704th Century, Triton, the moon of Neptune, 70,543, Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline
"Prescient General, I can confirm the existence of a
potentiality collapse, focused on the twenty-fifth century. Deep-time
scans indicate a broad-spectrum energy drain of other-dimensional
origin. Entropic effects are perpetuating through the timeline. We
expect anti-causal effects to hit The System in approximately three
days."
The holographic recording of the Chronotech Director
of the Time Institute vanished into the desk of the Prescient General;
who turned to stare at Nedru Nura'Zadaan over the steeple formed from
his fingers. "Yet again your intuitions have proven correct, although
the Time Institute is stumped in how to combat this threat. You have
always yearned for some form of active duty I believe?"
"Yes sir." Nedru's eyes flicked back to his
superior. The Prescient General had an office that overlooked the
entire APJ installation through a reinforced plastisteel window. This
also revealed a spectacular view of the frozen surface of Triton. A
particularly magnificent nitrogen geyser was just coming to its
conclusion, reflecting the turmoil that the vision had caused within
both Nedru and the APJ itself.
Disturbingly it had also reflected upon the
transparent skullcap of the Prescient General, sending a shower of
light across the rippled surface of the General's brain. Like the
majority of APJ operatives, both the General and Nedru had the upper
half of their skulls removed and encased in a clear substance, based on
the belief that information was contained in light, and the brain
itself was a sensory organ. According to tradition, this practice was
intended to enhance any natural gifts of the seer.
"Well, you are about to get your chance," the
General informed him. "The Time Institute has agreed that with history
in turmoil as it is, your abilities make you the best suited to lead an
expedition back to the source of the disturbance. You won't be going
alone, and we shall be granting you a prototype Power Icon if it will
bond to your system, so that we can increase your effectiveness.
"Bear in mind however, that this mission will be far
more dangerous than any undertaken by your father whom you so idolise.
This is no treaty negotiation. You are ordered to find the source of
this anomaly, and shut it down."
Nedru didn't know whether he was full of pride at
being given such a responsibility or terrified because he understood
what it might entail. Journeying into the deep past to face a force
capable of rewriting creation; it really didn't matter whatever
super-power set the Power Icon would grant him. His main weapon would
be the ability to read history, and it would be nowhere near enough.
Today, Butte, Montana, October 1992 The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord
Chaos
Unseen by any observers, the Lord of the Dreaming
had passed through the wreckage of Arkham Asylum. One of the Endless,
Morpheus was as old as the universe itself, and he was not used to
being frustrated.
Visits to the physical world used to be an
infrequent occurrence. In the last century however, such journeys had
become a more regular event, causing him to craft the identity of the
Sandman. Well, thanks to the superstitious ways of mortalkind, the
identity was more crafted for him; something that always brought a wry
smile to his face. In his role of custodian to the dreamscapes of all
living beings, Morpheus had seen humanity both at its best and as its
worst. It was not the extremes that had caused the Dream King to
develop such affection for the mortals; it was in observing their
struggles to reach the pinnacle of whatever they believed, and the
sharing of their sorrows when falling short of their goals.
There was one mortal that he did not feel such
instant affection for. Although Morpheus was aware that this mortal had
been injured in his life, and although the Dream King had attempted to
grant him some measure of comfort; the memories of discovering that in
his long absence this mortal had abused the Dream King's ruby, the
repository of much of his power and symbol of his rule, still rankled.
Yet the one known as Doctor Destiny had endured
punishment enough. Due to his repeated use of the ruby within the
device called the Materioptikon, John Dee could no longer dream. The
Sandman had relieved the distress within the man's fractured mind due
to his condition, but he still barred his entrance to the Dreaming.
Which was why he could not locate him now. Why
couldn't these mortals stay where he left them?
Time grew as ever short, until the denizens of the
Dreaming found reference to the former super-villain in the dreams of a
soldier. His raven, Matthew, had brought him the glad tidings, and thus
it was that now he stood before a military research complex outside
Butte, Montana.
The personnel were wandering the complex performing
their arcane functions, but this was not what Morpheus would consider
to be the waking world. Soldiers and scientists alike appeared to be
walking in some form of trance, much akin to a waking dream-state; yet
they were not within his realm. This explained why the search had been
so very problematic, and the Dream King would have to work fast.
He discovered Destiny constrained by a bizarre
machine, whose purpose he recognised. It had been crafted purely to
graft the dreams of John Dee onto reality itself, blurring the line
between the two states of being.
"This is a travesty!" Dream cursed, materialising in
front of the device. "What predicament have you got yourself into this
time, mortal?"
"No predicament," came a voice from behind the
machine, "but salvation for this world. For once in this miserable
man's life, he works, albeit unwillingly, in the interest of us all."
Emerging around the cradle of cables and wires
attached to the throne-like seat that secured Destiny in his seat,
there walked a man clothed in colourful armour, decorated with golden
hoops that erupted from his breastplate and secured themselves upon his
back. The Dream King thought the outfit overly elaborate and garish,
but then there was no limit to the ego of the Know Man.
"Greetings, caveman." Flattery and a shrewd choice
of words would serve far better here than asserting his authority. "I
would ask for your indulgence."
"Indeed." The Know Man smiled. "It is a rare sight
to witness you outside of the realm of sleep, your need must be great.
What can a lowly mortal such as I do for you, Dream King?"
"Neither mortal nor lowly, your humility does you
little credit." The barbarian was so wrapped up in himself that he
failed to detect the double edge in Morpheus' words, as the Dream King
knew would be so. "There approaches a great threat, and I would use
Destiny here as a means of thwarting it. He has much to atone for, and
much that he owes me."
"Yes, Dream King." The bound Doctor Destiny mumbled
weakly. "I will do whatever you require. Please get me out of here."
"You may have cause to regret those words," advised
the Sandman. "What I propose carries great risk."
"And not one I am prepared to take," snapped the
Know Man. "He may owe you service, but I owe you nothing. I would use
this creature to defend this world."
"As would I!" The Dream lord's patience was
strained, he struggled to conceal the venom in his words. "You were
charged with creating a weapon to save this sector from war. War has
come upon us, the very war your Controller benefactor feared. If you do
not use your weapon now, then you shall never get the opportunity. The
forces of the Old Gods walk amongst us, and threaten to wipe this world
clean."
Taking a pinch of sand out of the small sack on his
belt, Morpheus laid it on his palm and blew it towards the Know Man.
Images filled the immortal caveman's mind in rapid
succession. New York, Mordru, Eclipso, and one other figure. Unable to
make out the details of this unknown one, the Know Man never the less
could identify the intruder, and his heart ran cold.
"Your Warbringer," Morpheus instructed, "shall not
rise to the surface in this universe. If we do not succeed this day, it
would only pass through dust."
"What would you have me do?" The Know Man asked,
finally humbled.
"Drop Doctor Destiny off in the wilderness, and
remove your cloaking of his presence. Let him gather the dream essence
that I shall supply him. He will shine like a lantern to the moth of
the Gray Man, who would take him to his master Mordru."
As the Know Man manipulated controls on his gauntlet
to free the former enemy of the Justice League, the Sandman turned to
the skeletal figure. "I would have you join them, Destiny. Use your
dream power to show you accept the Dark Gospel, and then on my signal,
strike. I return to you the access to my kingdom, you may dream again.
Dream well, I would have you be my avenging angel."
Today, Kroef's Island, October 1992 The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord
Chaos
"Zis eez fantastique!" the Crimson Fox exclaimed as
the world raced by beneath her. "I should book you for all of ze
flights I am required to take."
"Glad you're enjoying yourself," replied Hal Jordan
dourly as the couple rocketed through the air over the western coast of
the African continent, propelled purely by his willpower focused
through the Green Lantern Power Ring. "Why exactly did you want to come
with me, Fox?"
"Because eet eez bettaire than sitting alone in zat
castle. I would sooner be active razher than moping. And when you find
ze killers, I want to be there."
"Fair enough," he replied. "You do realise that we
are not precisely pursuing the killers right now?"
"Like I said, eet eez bettaire zan sitting alone."
The enthusiasm from seconds ago had vanished. Hal noticed the French
heroine was obviously putting up a front. "But when you are finished
'ere, you will be finding zem, yes? Plus, we are a team, 'ow could I
let ze new team leader down?"
"We are hardly a team, Fox," Hal replied a little
more sharply than he intended. "I barely know you."
"Yes we are!" Vivian said vehemently. "We are all
zere is left of ze Justice League Europe. We have a duty to perform,
and vengeance to be sought. Once zis is over, zen we shall see. Until
then, we are a team, and you will do your job!"
Hal's cheeks reddened somewhat, but the green aura
that surrounded the pair disguised it. The Fox was correct of course,
but he no more liked being put in his place by this seemingly
two-dimensional woman than he liked hearing it from his masters, the
Guardians. Her words did cause a grudging respect to build within him
however; maybe the Fox was not as plastic as she seemed.
Meanwhile, her thoughts were wandering back to the
attack on the castle. "Eef we want to find zem and your ring cannot
locate zem, zen we need to know who Mordru eez. Ze Amazon told her blue
soldiers to inform Mordru of Kara's capture. She called ze blue things
Multiplex."
"Mordru?" The Green Lantern was shaken. "I know who
Mordru is. Years ago, the League and the JSA, the original League I
mean; we were transported a thousand years into the future. There was a
team there called the Legion of Super-Heroes, who were locked in battle
with this mage called Mordru. He was the ex-ruler of a planet of
sorcerers, and could only be defeated by being buried. We didn't even
beat him, he slipped up and was cast down by the Demons Three. I doubt
that we could have beat him if that hadn't happened."
"What about ze Multiplex?" Vivian asked, trying to
ignore the chills the Green Lantern's tale had inspired.
"Short guy, leather skirt. Splits into smaller
duplicates of himself." Hal remarked, his mind obviously racing. "Used
to be one of Firestorm's dancing partners. Definitely not tall and
blue, no fin, and no cyclops neither. This must be a new guy. Or guys."
The rest of the journey was in silence, as the
heroes of two generations of the Justice League took refuge in their
thoughts. Hal concentrated on reaching Kroef's Island as fast as he
could without causing severe atmospheric disturbance. It was home,
after all, to one of his closest and oldest friends, Tom Kalmaku, once
affectionately referred to as 'Pieface'. Of course, such a nickname was
not acceptable any more, but it was never meant in anything but the
highest regard. He had lost enough friends in the last few days; he
didn't intend to lose anymore. If only their plea for help had taken a
different form than Betty Clawman appearing in his dreams. Like most
dreams, it had vanished upon awakening, and took a while to resurface
in his conscious mind.
The threat posed by Mordru was another issue
entirely. Hal considered that he might need to call in the big guns on
this one. Hell, when he faced Mordru in the future, the wizard was
allegedly weakened. Everybody may be needed on this.
Vivian could no longer be distracted by the African
countryside passing beneath them. She was feeling as if she were a
failure, she had done nothing to help her teammates. Her drive for
vengeance was merely an effort to redeem herself in the face of that
guilt. The rational part of her was aware that if she had intervened,
she would now be as dead as her colleagues. That made little difference
to her heart, which condemned her as a coward. All the bluster in the
world could not change what had happened.
"That's the island coming up now," Hal informed her.
"Ring, scan for life-signs."
"One signature identified," the ring replied, much
to the Fox's amazement. "The Floronic Man, incapacitated. Bio-signature
no longer comparable to recorded parameters."
"And the rest of the New Guardians?" Hal asked. "Tom
and his family?"
"Negative," the ring responded without emotion.
"Take me to Floro," he commanded the ring, and they
descended to alight on the beach.
"I do not see anyzing." The Fox looked around. This
island appeared to be a little piece of paradise, except something
seemed slightly off. It took her a moment to identify what.
"Look at ze plants!" Fox exclaimed. The grass was
moving independent of any breeze, leaning towards the pair. The few
trees that were present all carried faces, no, the same face. Yet the
face itself looked twisted, as if suffering unspeakable agonies.
"Floro is in all of them." Hal observed. "That's not
how his abilities used to work. Floro! Can you speak?"
The grass rustled once more. Straining to listen,
Vivian realised the wind was carrying words, very faintly, but words
none the less.
The voice faded, to be replaced with silence.
Barring the breeze through the trees, there was no sound on the island
whatsoever, Vivian realised. No birds, no insects, nothing.
"Ring, scan for energy traces," Hal ordered, his
brow furrowed with concern. It was certainly like the Guardians to
execute some action without informing the rank and file of the Corps,
but betrayal? The pilot had had many disagreements with his masters
over the years, yet by the Guardians' terms, their actions were always
guided by the highest of motives. Even if it did take some degree of
interpretation to uncover that higher motive.
"Trace Oan energies detected," the ring reported,
"vibrationally divergent from established records. Conclusion:
Other-dimensional forces have been present, possibly alien Oans.
Cataclysm forecasted, Oa has been informed."
"I did not follow one word of zat," the Crimson Fox
interjected, nervously eyeing the grasses. She swore they were moving
slowly towards them. "But I zink we should be leaving zis place, if
zere is nozing to find 'ere."
"Agreed." Hal noticed her glances at the undergrowth
and encased the two of them is a sphere of emerald force which
levitated up into the air. "Ring, locate these alien Guardians now."
"There are thirteen present on the planet," the ring
replied, "converging on city: nomenclature New York. Target city
obscured by unquantifiable energies."
"Unquantifiable?" Vivian asked. "I thought your ring
could do anyzing?"
"It normally means magic." Hal could feel his heart
sinking. "Two super-teams disabled. A possessed Wonder Woman, Mordru,
and other-dimensional Guardians. It all seems a little too coincidental
to be happening at once."
"So we are what? Heading straight zere?"
"Not without arranging some reinforcements first,"
Hal answered. "So. New York it is."
Today, The Dreaming, October 1992 The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord
Chaos
Professor Potter poured what must have been the
fifth cup of tea since the beginning of their conversation. "So, are
you happy in your new life, Lana?"
"You mean now I no longer have wings and antennae?"
She laughed, feeling more relaxed than she had in years. "Since Lex
built me this new body, I have never felt so free. I'm loving it."
"I'm glad you are happy," Potter replied. "You are a
good home for my niece."
"But Uncle, I am your niece."
"No my dear, you're not. But you do, do her honour.
She would be very proud of you." Potter decayed in front of her eyes,
burning up as the flesh peeled from his face. The sitting room,
formerly decorated in a Fifties style, crumbled into ash. She realised
that moments ago, Fifties style meant modern.
"It's a new world now, Lana." A manhole cover lifted
from the earth and out climbed Lex, secure in an environment suit. The
harsh light of the reflected from his faceplate; dazzling her. "We have
to do what we must to survive."
This was wrong, she knew this was wrong. Shouldn't
Lex have a beard, and look older?
Then Lex screamed, as twin red beams immolated him
from behind, his environment suit melting. There was no fire, for there
was no air to feed it. As Lex Luthor fell to the floor, the military
uniformed General Zod walked up to her.
"I am a constant, little blob," the Kryptonian
fascist sneered. "I will have your new world. I will burn it to a crisp
and march across its ashes. And you will kneel before Zod!"
"You're dead," she stammered.
"Oh, pathetic little Matrix." He cackled. "You know
so little. You think that can stop me, you disgusting blob of
protoplasm."
"My name," she screamed, leaping towards him as she
pulled her fist back. "Is Supergirl!"
As she threw the punch, Zod dissolved into mist. Mae
screamed in frustration, but at least she knew who she was now.
"Indeed it is," came a soothing voice from behind
her. Supergirl turned to see a man with skin as white as moonlight.
Dressed in a long black leather jacket, jet-black hair erupted untidily
from his head. She could not quite make out his eyes, but they twinkled
like starlight. "You are very important my dear, and you carry a legacy
that this world has forgotten. But like all Supergirls, your destiny is
to save reality with an act of great sacrifice."
"Who are you?" Unlike Zod, this new arrival carried
no sense of menace with him, but Mae was not about to let her guard
down easily. She had been fooled before.
Behind the stranger, the ashes erupted with rapid
plant growth, and within seconds the pair were standing in an orchard.
"You can call me the Dreamsmith. That's what your many sisters know me
as."
"Sisters?"
"Your predecessors," Morpheus explained. "Your
successors as well I suppose. Once upon a time, there was a young girl
from Krypton who sacrificed her life to save all of existence. As a
result, life goes on. Once upon a time, I intervened to save the young
girl, and as a result, her life went on, in duplicate." *
* See Kara And The Dreamsmith by
the phenomenal Dark Mark over at Dark Mark's Domain. Google it.
http://dark_mark.tripod.com/dreamsmith.htm
The Sandman brought his hands together in front of
him, as if in prayer. "Still, a balance must always be observed.
Reality is at risk once more, and I am sorry child, but I must ask you
to pay the price. The Matrix will be no more, but rest assured, this
time the legend of Supergirl will continue. You can create your legacy,
you can save existence. But it is the fate of a Supergirl to lose a
world. For you, you must lose two; the world of Matrix will fall. From
those ashes, the phoenix will rise again."
Tears streamed down Supergirl's face. She knew the
pain of losing a world, had the memories of seeing that world
destroyed, piece by piece. In those last days, she had been prepared to
sacrifice herself to preserve what little remained. Mae wasn't sure she
had the strength to do it again.
"Rest now," the Dreamsmith instructed. "You will
need your energy. But remember one thing; for this world to live, you
must save Doctor Destiny."
Mae found herself falling back into the oblivion of
unconsciousness. The Dreamsmith's sorrowful face was the last thing she
saw, but as the darkness claimed her, one question remained.
She didn't know who Doctor Destiny even was.
Today, Over the Atlantic Ocean, October 1992 The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord
Chaos
As the blue ocean shimmered beneath the path of the
emerald orb containing Hal Jordan and the Crimson Fox, a small beeping
sound erupted from the Green Lantern belt.
"My League pager," he explained apologetically,
reading the minute display on the credit card sized device. The call
was from the New York Embassy.
"Curiouser and curiouser," mused Hal, instructing
his ring to open a communication channel with the New York Embassy.
Within an instant, a six-inch tall holographic image of the Blue Beetle
formed above the Power Ring. "You rang?"
In the New York JLI Embassy, Blue Beetle smiled for
a second as a miniature green image of Hal appeared in front of him. He
adored the many abilities of the Green Lantern's ring, the whole long
distance hologram trick was but one of them. One day, he told himself,
one day Kord Inc will find a way to duplicate that effect for the
market. Then he assumed a more serious aspect, for once in his life
there was little time for clowning around. "Coast City Police called.
They found your missing alien fashion model."
"Arisia?" Hal cried out. At least there was some
good news today. Arisia used to be a fellow Green Lantern. She had
joined the Corps at the age of thirteen, later having artificially aged
herself in an effort to bring into reality the crush she had developed
for Jordan. The effects of forcing her body to grow too quickly and
severely affected her health. This had been compounded upon by the
collapse of the Central Power Battery of Oa and the resulting
disintegration of Arisia's Power Ring. Arisia and Hal finally had a
brief affair together, but it wasn't to last, and they drifted apart
after living together in Chicago. The last Hal had heard was that the
young Graxosian had suffered a blow to her head in the collapse of the
former Green Lantern Citadel, and reverted back to her thirteen-year
old personality. From that point she had disappeared off the grid, her
modelling agency had had no contact from her and it was feared she was
suffering from memory loss. Although he had been distracted by many
other threats, Hal had done his best to locate her, recruiting many of
his colleagues to that end. For some reason she was undetectable by his
Power Ring, an anomaly he had no explanation for.
"You know more than one?" Beetle replied. "Man, you
are amaz..."
"Beetle, is she okay?" Although flattered by
Beetle's obvious hero worship, he had little interest in pandering to
the (in his opinion) immature Leaguer.
"Yeah, but she's spooked," Beetle reported, "She's
asking for you, GL."
"I'm afraid I won't be able to see her, for personal
reasons." He wasn't willing to reveal the disappearance of the New
Guardians just yet. "Tell them to keep her calm. I'll call Kilowog from
Oa to take her back to her home world."
"You don't get it." Beetle's tone turned far more
serious. "She's not just asking for Green Lantern, she's also saying
'Hal'. Sounds like secret identity trouble brewing, and we can't cover
for you. There's no time. We're on our way to respond to a disturbance
at S.T.A.R. I just thought you should know first."
Hal double-checked the location of the alien Oan
energies with his ring. "That's exactly where Fox and I are heading. Be
careful, I think there is a cataclysmic level threat there."
"Well, it won't be the first today. Haven't you
heard? Superman is dead."
"No!" Both Hal and the Crimson Fox exclaimed in
unison.
"Fox?" Beetle asked on hearing her voice. "Fox, I
heard about what happened in London. I'm so sorry. Look, I have to go,
but you need to know. Those blue dudes have been seen here in New York
as well, that's what we are heading to deal with."
"Mon dieu, be careful Beetle," Crimson Fox implored.
"You 'ave no idea how powerful zey are."
"We will." The small image of Beetle flashed them
both a quick smile. "But hey, we're the Justice League right? What
could go wrong? Beetle out."
"Beetle, wait!" Hal shouted. As the Blue Beetle ran
to pilot the Bug and transport the League downtown, the small
holographic image, now of both Hal and the Crimson Fox, followed him.
"I think we are chasing the same thing. There might be rogue Guardians
of The Universe there, or rather Guardians of another universe. And
maybe Mordru."
"Who?" Beetle grabbed a strategically placed
horizontal bar and somersaulted onto the roof of the 'Bug', a beetle
shaped flying craft. He noticed the other Leaguers had already boarded,
and were ready to depart.
"A very, very powerful sorcerer."
A familiar voice piped up from the confines of the
bug. "Yo, Jordan! We ain't got time for social chitchat, or no fairy
tales. We've got proper work to do."
The green hologram above Hal's ring turned yellow
just for an instant and then disintegrated. "Damn you, Gardner," Hal
muttered.
"Hal, you 'ave to tell zem." The American chapter of
the League was currently short of any powerhouses, and the Fox knew
that they may be going to their deaths.
"I can't re-establish contact." Hal almost grunted,
forcing his will through the ring, but to no avail. "Gardner's blocking
me. We are just going to have to get there as fast as we possibly can."
As for the potential secret identity problems being
caused by Arisia, they would have to wait. Assuming of course they all
survived to deal with them.
Today, Los Angeles, October 2480 The Earth Sigma Hyper-Timeline of Lord
Chaos
The metallic corridors through which Commander Cold
was led by his guards seemed to go on forever. Curiously, he had not
been stripped of his costume or weapons, although as he expected he was
unable to activate either. His costume was unable to even insulate him
from the variances in temperature; his initial reception area had been
uncomfortably warm as it catered to the reptilian Psion researchers. In
contrast, he now seemed to be moving into a refrigerated area, no doubt
to discourage those same scientists from passing where they were not
wanted.
"So, guys. Where are we going?" Cold was being
marched along by two Khund guards, led by a Rannian officer. The
tension between the officer and the Khunds was palpable, neither race
was known for their high regard of the other. The Khund saw the
Rannians as little better than humans, inferior warriors and peace
loving cowards. The Rannians in comparison found the Khund obsession
with battle repulsive, war was merely a means to an end and not
something to be celebrated.
"Shaddup." The Khund to his left gave Cold a shove,
forcing him to stumble a little.
"You will find out soon enough," commented the
Rannian. "We have identified you as operational leader of the
Reverse-Flash Task Force. You no doubt have valuable information that
we could use regarding the resistance, thus we are taking you for
debriefing."
"You do realise that I am not going to tell you
anything," Cold stated calmly, as his many years of military training
and protocol started flashing through his mind.
"You may be surprised." They reached an armoured
door and the officer turned to his escort. "This is as far as we need
you. Dismissed."
"We ain't gonna take orders from scum like you." The
two squat Khund refused to move anywhere. "We wanna see what's in
there. We ain't even seen our Generals for days, and we don't trust
you. Rannians have always been Earth sympathisers."
"You will remain here then; for unlike you, your
Generals are doing what they should be doing. Following orders that we
all have to follow, rather than twiddling their thumbs," the Officer
retorted, and Cold had to suppress a smile. He certainly wouldn't have
wanted the Rannian as his drill sergeant. "We are forced to be
sympathisers for one another, and you very well know why. How is
Khundia faring currently?"
"Better than Rann!" The Khund to the left snarled,
baring his fangs. The white of his teeth contrasted with the red tinge
to his skin. Cold was disturbed to see just what good condition Khund
teeth were in.
"That I doubt." The Rannian's tone hardened.
"Remember what we are here for. If the humans can be of use, then we
would be stupid not to press the tactical advantage. We are all forced
to make compromises here."
Tapping his foot, the Rannian stared at the pair of
Khunds, not even blinking. After a moment of fury in the Khunds’
faces, they turned, muttering under their breath.
"Rannian scum. One day soon there will be a
reckoning."
"May that day not be too far away, and may we all
survive to see it." The Rannian called after them, then he turned to
type an access code into the door control. "Damn barbarians!"
"What was that all about?" Cold asked the officer,
possessing a new respect for the man.
"You'll find out," the Rannian replied. "This
alliance is hardly by choice, as you will shortly find out. I wonder if
you will so determined to oppose us after this hour has passed?"
The Rannian led Cold along yet another corridor and
then into a large operation centre. Concentrating upon a series of
displays stood a man with green skin and blond hair. This must be the
reputed Coluan leader, Cold assumed. Behind him, stood away from the
lighting of the central dais in the shadows, was the cyborg.
The colloquial definition of cyborg was half man,
half robot, and nobody personified this more than Tharok. The right
hand side of his body was entirely flesh and blood, a bulky guy without
an inch of fat on him. The skin-tight yellow and black long-sleeved
wrestling singlet left little to the imagination, and Cold immediately
felt sympathy for the man. His left side was the colour of dull iron,
bar the sinister red glare from his cybernetic eye. There was a strict
dividing line directly down the man’s centre between the flesh
and the metal, and Cold dreaded to think of whatever horrible accident
had caused such a drastic measure.
"Commander Cold for you, sir," the Rannian reported.
The Coluan flicked at a few more touch screen
controls and then turned to face the pair. "Thank you, Commander
Midreth. Please, both of you be seated."
He led them to a small table set just to one side of
the central dais. Seating himself behind another touch screen that his
eyes flicked over for a second, he stared directly into Cold's eyes.
"You must be wondering what you are doing here."
"You want information on the resistance forces, I
assume," Cold replied with an arrogance he did not feel, as he watched
the cyborg take the Coluan's place at the control station. There was
immense power in the cyborg’s body, Tharok would not be a man
Cold would choose to pick a fight with. "You do realise that I will
tell you nothing?"
"You are correct, in that I want information," the
Coluan replied. Only now did Cold realise just how very young he
appeared. If his age was comparable to that of a human's, then he could
only be seventeen at the most. It was known that the Coluans, known for
their superior intellects were a long-lived species, but this was a
mere boy. Leading an alliance of mutually hostile races in a successful
invasion of Earth seemed an incredible feat for one so young.
"However, I believe in a fair exchange," the Coluan
continued, making an attempt to smile that he soon gave up on. "My name
is Querl Dox. I am known as Brainiac Five. Commander Cold, would you
like to know why we have invaded your planet?"
NEXT
ISSUE
The truth behind the actions of Brainiac 5, the road
to Lord Chaos’
supremacy is further assured as the JLA face their greatest threat yet,
and Mordru acquires his greatest weapon yet as his destructive harvest
continues.
