New Genesis…
Barda stared at the Wall, the simplistic block of aged and cracked
matter that had survived the last final true war. It was that one
link that they shared with the past, a gift of sorts albeit
unwittingly, from the Old Gods to the New. It stood there
ominously, casting neither heat nor light, shedding no shadow, its
barren, dry surface rippling, blazing with dire consequence.
Big Barda shuddered, shivering as a wave of chills washed over
her. Having grown up on the battlefields of Apokolips, under the
tender care and devotion of Granny Goodness herself she had long ago
cast fear aside. She had not known sheer terror since she was a
cub, and that was long ago. She had been bred to be a warrior, a
fighter and leader of the Female Furies. Her campaigns had been
glorious, her battles the speak of legends and she had never known
defeat, then…
She had found salvation later, and love at the hands of Scott Free-
Mister Miracle, the World’s Greatest Escape Artist and New God
himself; the son of almighty Highfather. Barda had escaped the
horrors of Apokolips, fighting tooth and nail every step of the way
towards freedom. For a time she had joined the warriors of Earth,
and alongside her husband as well as the likes of Booster Gold, Blue
Beetle, the Flash and the Batman they had achieved new… glories
as the Justice League!
The time had come however, eventually, to return. Orion the
Hunter, the Warrior had called and she and Scott and all the others had
returned to the grand halls of New Genesis; the ‘Forever
People’, Fastback, Forager, Lightray, Avia and all the
rest. The Lord of Apokolips was defeated, apparently, and Izaya
the Inheritor; Highfather was dead. It was a time for mourning
and celebration, as peace had come at last. With the death of
Highfather, Mister Miracle now ruled New Genesis, and Orion likewise
lorded over Apokolips, the true heir of the Dark Lord.
The Pact had come full circle
at last…
But now… Now a new darkness grew, and as Barda stared at the
Wall, the Source watching as the Hand of the Creator wavered, the Word
inscribed blazing on the cold cruel stone, Barda shivered. The
terror she had known as a child in Armaghetto, in the Orphanage of
Granny Goodness where she was ordered to fight or die before she could
barely walk, the horror had returned. After so many years, Big
Barda was afraid…
“Still no change.”
Barda gasped at the sound of the voice. She knew it well of
course, had come to know it and love it over the years but now it
sounded cold and very, very tired. She turned, trying to force a
smile as she looked down at the man she had come to love. His
face was handsome, but no longer appeared blessed with youthful
vigor. He did not look old- none of them did- but he did appear
wizened and worn as though the burden of his new authority weighed
heavily on both body and soul. His dark eyes sparkled as he
stared past her, to the burning, rippling inscription on the Source
Wall, reflecting her own fears for just a moment, a heart beat until he
focused on her and smiled.
“You look tired,” he said reaching up and out, his gentle
touch caressing her cheek. Barda took his hand, kissing his
fingers-
“No,” she answered, the slightest catch in her voice.
“Not tired, not anymore. Your presence brings me strength,
my love, as always. I’m just… just…”
Scott Free nodded in understanding. With his new station came
wisdom and guidance. Not in all things of course, such was the
will of the Creator alone, but enough to know the moods of those he
loved and cared for; his people and his wife for certain.
“There is no shame in fear,” he said stepping past.
“I’m afraid, and we are both in good company. Our
brothers and sisters speak in hushed tones, their voices cloaked in
wonder and awe. I imagine that even Orion is afraid, in his own
way, not that he would ever show it.”
“Has he sent word?” Barda asked, stepping up beside her
husband and taking his free hand, his other holding the Crook of his
office. “What does Orion suggest?”
“Lonar has only just returned from Apokolips with Orion’s
word. He’s sent Fastback to the WALL, just as I’ve
dispatched Avia to the Rip in space above New Genesis. We have
agreed to investigate together, to marshal our combined forces to face
whatever new threat grows. The rend in the fabric spews the pink
energies of negative space, the darkening storm we all remember so
well-“
“The Crisis storms…” Barda said in a hushed whisper,
but Scott Free did not affirm.
“More, and less- it is different. That Crisis energy, the
force stirred by the Anti-Monitor is present, but wild and uncontrolled
mostly. It’s like a volcano, bubbling and boiling, ready to
explode yet something holds it back, if only just. What I do not
know. Too, I sense a disturbance in both the Time Stream and the
Speed Force, as though both are in conflict. Those mystics among
our people speak of an ‘unraveling’ of the magical skein
from which they draw their powers. Those attuned to the Psychic
Plane scream out when they sleep, if they dare. It is as though
the very bonds, which hold our reality together, are being ripped
asunder by whatever is opening the Rifts. Attacking slowly,
methodically washing away at the barriers that surround us and make us
whole, trying to overwhelm-“
“But what!” Barda finally yelled. She was shaking,
near tears and she hated it. “What is doing this?”
“That of course is the question…”
Both Big Barda and Scott Free turned back to the cool monotone
voice. Metron sat apart as always, hovering there in his Mobius
Chair, his body cloaked in the skin tight body suit that allegedly aids
to protect his gaunt form from the rigors of his unique travels
throughout space and time itself. His small, icy blue eyes peered
at his two fellows before drifting to the Source and back.
“Metron,” Scott Free said stepping forward as though to
protect his wife, planting the staff of the Highfather between Metron
and the pair. Metron was a scientist and explorer true, claiming
to be neither from New Genesis or Apokolips but somewhere
between. Still, his motives were driven by an unquenchable thirst
for knowledge, his actions were sometimes questionable. Metron
was not above sacrificing all for the answers he often sought; the
mysteries of life, the universe and everything.
“Your coming always preludes disaster, wanderer. What dire
news do you bring?”
“If I had feelings, Scott Free, your barbed words might
wound. I have no answers yet, unfortunately. I have only
developed more questions, though I have gleaned some information.”
“Save your riddles, Metron and tell us what you know!”
Barda shouted as she stepped to her husband’s side, anger pushing
back her fear. Metron almost smiled, gesturing at the Source.
“As always, the answers lie there. As to the
questions…”
Metron looked again to the blazing words on the Wall, his eyes
reflecting the burning inscription-
CHAOS
REIGNS…
“The questions spring from Earth as so often of late, and from
your old allies. The darkness spreads, and those champions of
‘Justice’ stand as the first and last bastion in the
gathering shadows.”
“Darkseid…” Barda said, her voice barely heard,
booming in the hushed silence. She felt her husband’s hand
tighten in her grip once more. Metron smirked conceitedly-
“We have all learned that there are forces beyond that Great
Darkness. Even the once Lord of Apokolips acknowledged that
fact. No Fury, the Dark Lord stirs with this crisis, but the
crumbling barriers are being torn asunder by forces beyond, just out of
reach even for the wonders of my Mobius Chair. I see, but I
cannot touch. I fear that our fate once again rests in the hands
of those gods even newer than we. The next battle even now
contends on Earth and its environs, the continuing, encompassing
conflict in the war beyond. The fate of all once more resides
with…
 |
The World's
Greatest Superheroes.....
CONCLUSION
JUSTICE LEAGUE UNLIMITED
(The Chaos Reigns)
|
|
JLA #28-
May, Year 3
|
by Curt Fernlund |
Active Roster
It is to
laugh…
Nabu watched with no little amusement at the gathering of heroes
streaking his way. How many times had he seen such a sight, a day
unlike any other when the champions of justice would band together to
face a foe that not a one of them could overcome singularly? How
many times had he been on the other side, a part of the merry army,
bonding with the lesser beings in a futile attempt to keep the universe
spinning for a few minutes more? Too, he wondered why he had ever
bothered.
Knowing what he knew now, the future- his past- it was all for
naught. Come the End, the Endless would close of shop and throw
away the key for the Next to find. Mister E had told him the
secrets of beyond; the blind man had seen all, crazy as he was.
He knew, and E had pissed himself with the knowledge, staggering in his
long walk home, the eternal trip of a second, a heart beat forever on
the verge. Knowledge was power after all.
Still, as always and forever it was the here and now that drove the
lesser beings towards survival. They could not think beyond the
box, beyond their own fleeting existence, and that would be their end
in the End.
Nabu chuckled at his little joke. He could feel the power
churning behind him, growing and spreading, bloated and ready to burst
like a balloon. And he was the pin, the catalyst that would let
Chaos spring forth to encompass all. Well- A catalyst at any rate.
It had been the Justice League that had set the final wheels to motion
with their ill-fated trip to the End of All. Their hearts had
been in the right place, wanting to save their grand and glorious
figurehead; the Superman. Little did they realize what they would
unleash as they bulled their way through those barriers that held the
Continuum together. They had altered the Time Stream and abused
the Speed Force, ripping and tearing at the dimensional barriers at
every point of their journey. Now, with their unwitting influence
the Dark Dimensions roiled and negative space pushed on positive.
Order quailed and the Light flickered, and soon, very soon Chaos would
wash over all. But first…
Nabu smirked, watching his old friends as they charged forward.
He could taste their fear, feel their awe as they stared at the rip in
space behind him, the Chaos energies spewing forth in a storm of
anti-life, no doubt remembering the Crisis not so long past that had
altered Reality yet again, claiming so many of their friends and loved
ones in the process. Scott had been there then, at the end.
Nabu of course had been with the magi trying to fend off another
calamity that had taken Zatara and Sargon; the Elder that had
eventually been stayed by the Swamp Creature, Holland. Nelson had
been the Host then- good ol’ Kent, faithful and true. Now,
the withered flesh twisted and burned, the get of Khufu supplying the
body. It was ironic in its way as the comrades of Carter Hall
were almost upon him...
Sentinel was in the lead, as always. The unsteady hero, half a
man torn between life and duty. He was Earth’s first Green
Lantern- Abin Sur aside- and wielder of the Green Flame now burning
from within. Nabu might have been worried if Alan Scott was not,
spending his will to keep his allies alive in the void. Not that
that would be necessary the closer they got. He would learn soon
enough, where Life and Anti-life clashed.
Two blurs beside him, silver and violet. Jay Garrick of course,
the original Flash and Max Mercury, both men drawing on the Speed Force
and trying to be unseen. Their actions, vibrating just outside of
existence made them stick out like two sore thumbs, the magic laced in
the Speed Force pointing to them like big, neon arrows.
There was Starman and his Cosmic Rod affixed to a staff cutely.
Had it been Ted Knight and not his whelp, Jack, Nabu might have been
worried.
Power Girl stood defiantly beautiful, her massive chest heaving in the
clutches of her skin-tight white spandex. She blazed with the
fires of ancient Atlantis, the last hero that should be on this task
force. Nabu fought back the ancient urges as he stared at her
mystical flame, knowing that he would suck her dry as he had the others
at Bewitched. When all was said and done he would probably keep
her, ravage her. Inza had had a rack on her as well…
The rest were next to useless, barely worth mentioning. Wildcat
and Sandy the Golden Boy- Sand he called himself now. What could
he do separated from the Earth, source of his powers? And Nuklon,
no, Atom Smasher; big, strong, hit things- ugh. Still, the boy
had the atomic fires within and science and magic never really meshed
well-
Leave them alone…
Hector…
Awake again are we?
Leave my friends-
Shut up,
bitch. You’re just like your father. Well,
almost… He would never have allowed himself to be fucked up the
ass like you. And he never, ever whined…
Bastard…
I know you are,
but what am I?
GREEN…
Nabu staggered feeling the burn of fire as it washed over him.
Alan had attacked- sneaky shit. Nabu pushed what remained of
Hector Hall down again as he stared at the Justice Society.
Whatever plan they had concocted, they were implementing.
Fine…
Bring it!
Manhattan…
Dick Grayson looked up. The Black Rain was easing for some
reason, the dark pink clouds dispersing at last. He crouched on
one of the bird-gargoyles adorning the Chrysler Building, scanning the
streets far below through the amplified sights of his ‘Bat
Binoculars’. He had never really thought up a new name for
those.
The streets were chaos pure and simple. The Black Rain had
changed the people that had been caught out, covering them in shadow
and morphing them into monstrosities that seemed to have no goal
besides wanton pandemonium in mind. They were running wild,
destroying everything in sight, and creating carnage. Luckily
they went down easily, without much fuss. There were just so
many…
“Hey, Wing!”
Nightwing bristled at the sound of his radio blaring in his ear.
He shifted position and touched the stud on the communicator-
“Roy… what?”
“We’re holding our own down here, son, but just
barely. There’s so many. Any bright ideas?”
Nightwing tried to focus on Arsenal’s location down on the
streets. He saw a huge green rhinoceros charging down Fifth
Avenue bowling through the dark changelings, and a flare of light on
the West Side that had to be Starfire on a strafing run. There
were other heroes out and about, fighting the good fight too. He
saw a blur that was probably Jesse Quick, and Tim had radioed in that
Young Justice was on the case. Still…
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, Roy. The more we
save the better. Just remember there’s people under the
shadow.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Arsenal said and Grayson could hear
the annoyance in his old friend’s voice. Whatever was
happening was beyond them all- except maybe Raven. It was
something cosmic in scale, like the Crisis and Final Night- the Sun
Eater, Zero Hour. Nightwing was just a bit annoyed himself.
Bruce had never been big on the cosmic things, and that had rubbed off.
“Dick…”
Nightwing glanced up as Starfire soared up to hover nearby. He
looked at the woman he had loved, once upon a time, trying not to
smile, to show that he was happy to see her unharmed. There was
Barbara to think of now, and the crisis at hand. He had to
suppress the old feelings, but looking at her it was hard.
“Kory, what…”
“This is pointless,” she said, her huge green eyes scanning
the streets below. Fires burned in buildings, smoke roiling
skyward as hordes of the infected surged through the streets inflicting
chaos. Grayson saw that the NYFD was on the job now that the
Black Rain had eased, the firefighters going out to stop the random
fires from spreading. Too, the police were on the job again.
“It’s like trying to stop the tide. We must find the
source of this madness and strike at its heart.”
“And what might that be?” Nightwing said, standing as he
slipped his binoculars back into his Utility Belt.
“I don’t know,” the Princess Koriand’r of
Tamaran said with a huff, just a hint of disgust in her voice.
Once upon a time she thought that Dick Grayson was the Creator's
gift. Now he seemed lost and confused to her. All too
human…
“Then we keep doing what we’ve been doing, Kory.
Fighting the good fight and saving who and what we can. Obviously
there’s something bigger going on, but until we learn just what
that is we do what we can to help, like always.”
Starfire scowled, staring hard at the man she once loved with all her
heart and soul. He was right of course, she knew that, but for
some reason he seemed just a bit smaller all of a sudden.
“Fine…” she said as she arched off and soared
downwards, back to the streets and the battle. Nightwing watched
as she streaked off, her glowing trail dissipating as she vanished into
the concrete canyons. He looked up then, staring for a moment at
the glowing rift in the sky, wondering what might be next…
Opal City…
The Shade watched as the storm passed, the last flickering of red
roiling off into the distance. The darkness waned, yet still the
rift in the sky rippled and fluctuated with the energies of Chaos and
negativity. Once upon a time he might have embraced that
darkness, but there were other concerns now. He was a defender of
the Light- oddly- at least for the nonce. Not a champion of
course, he could never do that…
“Shade?”
The Shade turned to see the woman approaching, stepping near the wide
French Doors to peer up and out at the lightening sky. Valentina
Vostok was wrapped in bandages again, as she had been once before when
the infection of Meta powers had taken her. Her eyes still
sparkled through of course, the last thin wisps of her golden hair
flowing about her shoulders, ravaged by the radiations of the other
girl’s dark light. The power was not quite the same.
The strange ambiance and illumination of the Russian heroine Mysta had
been corrupted by Fate, twisting light to darkness, a queer negative
absence. It was only through the sacrifice of both that had saved
either. They had merged recreating something new-
“Why are we still here?” Vostok said, staring up at the
clouds, the crackling rift with wide eyes. Could she feel it
calling to her? “You said I was needed. What are we
waiting for?”
“Are you so impatient to die, child?” Shade’s grin
was cool as he looked the woman over, her clothes thick and baggy over
her bandage-swathed body.
“We wait on others. The final players have yet to come to
position-“
“You make it sound a game. Is that all it is to you?”
“That’s all it has ever been, child. Since the
beginning, a game for those beyond, one we all must ever play.
Such is the Will and the Way-“
Vostok waved off the dark man’s riddles away as she turned,
stalking back into the deeper shadows of the dim room. Gaslight
barely flickered from sconces lining the richly paneled walls.
Her boots shuffled softly through the thick pile of ancient Persian
carpeting as she stopped, pausing at the ornate wet bar set to the
side. The room, the entire brownstone in fact smelled of cigars
and brimstone; strange but night entirely unappealing. Vostok's
hand wavered at the bottles lining the cart as she pondered a drink,
the waiting making her nervous, anxious…
“You sure that’s the answer, kid?”
Valentina Vostok gasped to hear the cold hollow voice that she had not
heard in so long, but well remembered. She turned, tears almost
welling in her eyes, her voice almost catching in her throat to once
more see her old friend.
Cliff Steel’s face was an emotionless mask, hard and metallic
bronze. His jaws set in perpetual grin, only his eyes betrayed
the spark of emotion contained within-
“Robotman… Cliff!”
“Hiya, Val.”
Cliff Steel had been an adventurer once upon a time. His humanity
had been taken away however years before, his body shattered in a
racing accident that had left him a hopeless cripple. It had only
been through the brilliance of Niles Caulder that Steel had survived,
his mind transplanted to a new robotic body. Valentina Vostok
knew well enough what hell that must have been, trapped in a hopeless
shell. But Steel had grudgingly made the best of it, becoming a
founding member of Caulder’s original Doom Patrol and leading
other incarnations over the years that followed after the deaths of his
friends. He had led the version that she had been a part of once,
the first time that she had been the Negative Woman-
“What… Why are you here?” she said, embracing her
old friend briefly before stepping back. He wore a new shell
again, a modified version of his first metallic body; still bronze in
appearance but she could feel the strength in the sleek, trim
metal. She heard the grind of gears as he tilted his head to the
side, eyes flashing red-
“Somebody gotta keep you outta trouble, kid. Looks like I
got elected again.” The robotic head swiveled to look at
the Shade still standing at the glass doors leading to the outer
balcony. He had donned his long black coat and hat, cane in hand
as he strolled casually forward-
“So nice of you to join us, Steel,” he said sardonically,
his lips twisted in a sneer. Steel shrugged, joints creaking-
“Plane’s ain’t flyin’ too well, Shade.
Weather’s a bitch, case ya didn’t notice. An’
Opal’s not exactly a vacation spot fer the airlines-“
“Oh, I don’t know…” All eyes turned towards
the doorway to see another man standing there in the shadows. He
was old, wearing a suit and hat from another era, spectacles reflecting
the flickering gaslight. He held a golden rod in one hand
casually, as though it was a part of him. “I’ve
always liked the weather here. Opal City’s been good to
me-“
“With exception,” Shade said smiling and the man frowned,
nodding.
“Once or twice. Hello Shade-“
“Theodore…”
“Who?” Valentina Vostok glanced up at her robotic
companion, but it was the voice in her head- Mysta that answered-
Ted Knight… The original Starman!
Valentina Vostok gasped again. She had not realized… she
had not known. The man was a legend. She watched as
Robotman shook the older man’s hand, exchanging pleasantries like
old friends. She wondered what she might say, what she should-
She felt the Shade’s hand on her shoulder and turned to see him
smiling coolly at her.
“Now we may go…”
Space…
“There’s definitely atmosphere.”
Sanderson Hawkins’ gaze swept across the simplistic controls of
the JLA’s Star Racer, reading the outer monitors, his wide eyes
hidden behind the goggles of his gas mask. They had chosen him to
fly the ship, and he had found the mesh of technology; Martian,
Thanagarian and Earthen remarkably easy to master. Easier than
driving a car through Midtown Manhattan at Rush Hour, which was no mean
feat.
“It’s like a primordial soup, but breathable, and
there’s gravity of a sort. It’s as though the powers
of Creation are smashing together at the rift, trying to… I
dunno… create?”
“Well, ain’t that convenient?”
Sand turned to look at Ted Grant who had spoken- at all of his new
friends, the gathered members of the Justice Society. Wildcat was
right though. It did seem rather convenient, even if the others
seemed to ignore the fact. Atom Smasher and Power Girl looked
impatient, wanting to join the fray outside with this news.
Wildcat almost seemed bored.
“Scared Kitty?” Power Girl asked with a smirk as she looked
to the older man. The ex-boxer simply shrugged, continuing to
wrap his hands and wrists with thick tape, flexing his hand as he
adjusted the Cestus he had affixed to his gloves.
“Ya get my age, kid, an’ seen some a’ the things I
seen in my day it really don’t scare ya no more. Makes ya
wonder, but that’s about it.”
“Pretty cavalier, Grant,” Karen Starr said. The two
had had a friendly rivalry going on for some time now. Harmless
banter that helped both of them cope. Grant shrugged again and
turned back to Sand-
“So there’s atmosphere. Don’t do the likes
a’ me n’ Smasher here any good. We can’t
fly.”
“I’ve thought of that.” Sand turned to the
front view port as a flash of green energy lit the sky. He could
see Sentinel and Starman flitting about, both men attacking Fate,
barely holding their own. He could barely make out the fleeting
blurs of the two speedsters as well. Jay Garrick and Max Mercury
were all but invisible, and it was probably his own unique sight that
allowed him the slightest glimpse beyond the violet and silver
wisps. “There’s the basics of creation, like I said,
and along with the elemental energies and the mythical spark,
there’s also matter out there; dust and dirt, specks of varied
rock. It’ll be hard, but I can do something with
that. It’ll take me out of the battle though, to create a
platform for you all and hold it together. I’ll have to
concentrate on that alone…”
“Do it, kid,” Wildcat said standing and moving towards the
air lock. “Otherwise we all sit in here and shoot the
Phasers at Fate, an’ that gets real old real quick.”
Sand nodded…
They all watched as the boy- the man concentrated. He had spent
the better part of the last few decades trapped in the body of a
silicon monstrosity, a failed experiment of Wesley Dodds gone
wrong. He had been freed finally, cured, but Sandy Hawkins soon
found that he was far more than he had ever been. As Sand he now
controlled the rocky elements of the Earth; the sand and grit, the dirt
were his to command. Too, it seemed that his new Meta extended
somewhat to beyond the earthly coil, as he concentrated and saw the
base elements shifting at his whim. It was slow and hard, but a
platform of dust and debris gathered, coalescing and taking shape to
create a stage of sorts, ground in the depths of the void-
“Go…”
Power Girl nodded, cycling the air lock and stepping within as soon as
she was able. Just as eager, Atom Smasher was right on her heels,
Wildcat just a few steps behind. He turned in the portal, giving
Sand a final glance-
“You gonna be okay, Sandy?”
Sand nodded, his brow wet with sweat as he stared out into space.
Rivulets creased his skin as he turned, looking over his shoulder-
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
Wildcat grinned, “No worries here, pal. Wesley’d be
proud.”
Sand turned back even as the massive door slid back into place and
sealed with a hiss of pressurized air. He watched as the monitors
flickered, signaling the outer breach, and sighed, suddenly
alone…
“This is pointless!” Starman shouted over the sound of his
own blasts. He swooped up and away as a wave of black fire swept
past, swirling maniacally in his wake. He arched up and flipped
over his Star Staff, catching the crook in his arm as he fired again,
the stellar energies fizzling against the glassy dark Ankh of
Fate’s shields.
“Keep up the pressure, Jack!” Alan Scott yelled back, the
green energy of the Star Heart billowing forth a flame all its
own. Fate was prepared however, and Jack could hear the
magi’s laugh as the green fire puttered and splattered against
his defenses. He could see the grimace on Alan Scott’s face
as the older hero drifted closer, lashing out without pause. Jack
fired again.
“Stick to the plan, Jack,” Scott said, his voice a harsh
whisper. “We have to keep pouring on the power, wearing him
down.”
Jack Knight nodded as a bolt of black shot between the two of
them. He banked to the right- starboard as Scott veered left,
both men firing a volley in return. The Starman focused, sliding
the welder’s goggles from his eyes as he strained to see the twin
blurs that were Max Mercury and the Flash. The two men were
drawing on the power of the Speed Force, trying their own hands at
wearing away against the might of Nabu, whatever and wherever he was
drawing his power from.
Behind him the rift in space churned, energy spewing forth. Jack
could feel the power building, making his skin crawl and the hackles on
the back of his neck stand to attention. Whatever was on the far
side of the tear in space, it was evil, dark and wicked and coming
their way. Chaos…
Alan Scott had said that it was Chaos, though that made no sense.
Jack Knight had the barest clue as to how the universe worked, bits and
pieces he had put together from the stories that his father used to
tell, the tales of the Justice Society in the old days. Doctor
Fate was a champion of Order, Nabu himself some sort of Lord- a deity
of some kind. Alan had said though that this incarnation fought
for Chaos now, that whatever he was doing would somehow usher in a new
world order, a time of madness, the Chaos Reigns- whatever that
was. Jack wondered just how Alan knew so much, not that it
mattered. One of those veteran things no doubt. His father
had them all the time…
Jack gasped as he saw Fate’s hand suddenly shoot out, his
claw-like fist wrapped about the form of max Mercury’s
throat. The old man gagged and gasped, kicking as Nabu laughed,
then squeezed. Mercury went limp and Fate simply dropped him to
the ground-
“Ground?”
Jack saw it now, blinking as his vision registered the plane of dirt
that had gathered before the rift. It was all rock and debris,
space dust that had coagulated up to the hole, solid ground on which
Max Mercury now lay. There was a surge as a violet blur whisked
past, lightning engulfing Fate, making his dark shields shimmer.
Distraction, Jack Knight turned-
They were coming, charging forward. Power Girl was in the lead,
flying ahead of the other two; Atom Smasher and Wildcat. Albert
was huge already, and growing bigger with every step. Wildcat was
simply Wildcat, a fighter ready to go the distance once again.
Straining, Jack could see Sand in the distance, through the view port
of the JLA space ship. He was responsible for the ground no
doubt, amazingly, and unfortunately as that left him out of the fight
for the moment. He looked to be in pain…
“Arrgh!”
Black fire erupted about him, engulfing him. Jack Knight screamed
to feel the burn, the sickly corrupt caress of Chaos. Through the
pain he concentrated, gritting his teeth as he called upon the power of
the Cosmic Rod, the invention of his father that harnessed the powers
of the stars. He screamed again as starlight burst free, driving
the darkness back. He could hear Nabu’s laughter as he
floundered, gasping for breath in the harsh environs of Creation-
Best to keep your
mind on your work, boy! I wouldn’t have caught your pappy
napping like that-
Jack heard the crack as Power Girl’s fist drove into the side of
Fate’s helm, adding a new dent. Nabu went tumbling
backwards, end over end, unprepared for the assault, but when he
finally came to rest he simply shook his head and popped the bones in
his neck, unperturbed.
“Best you do the same, Doctor,” Power Girl taunted as she
shot forward again, fists raised for another shot. Jack heard
Nabu’s hollow chuckles echoing-
Please…
His gnarled hands went up, gesticulating as the damnable black Ankh
appeared again in the heroine’s path. Dark flames flared as
the Maid of Might smashed through the huge, inverted Ankh, her body
ablaze as she streaked through the other side, spiraling into
space. If anything Fate looked all the stronger for her efforts.
You’ve been
remiss, Alan. Sending the whelp of Atlantis against me is like
throwing gasoline on a fire. Pity the half-breed Tempest became
the heir, but I’ll make do with all the lambs you send my way-
“Shut up!”
Jack shielded his eyes as space erupted in green. Alan
Scott’s anger boiled over at Nabu’s taunts, but somehow
Jack suspected that that was just what Fate wanted.
Sentinel’s Star Heart was feeding the dark mage just as easily as
Power Girl-
“Alan! Don’t!” Jack shouted, shooting forward
with his staff blazing. His own powers added to Sentinel’s
seemed to stagger the mage, driving him back. Scott however
poured on the energy, heedless of Jack Knight’s warnings-
A huge fist slammed down, smashing Nabu into the dirt.
“Eat that!” Atom Smasher said, his huge voice booming as he
stood. He was fifty feet tall easily, towering over the crumpled
form at his feet, the smashed pulp that had been Fate. Was that
it then? Was it over?
No…
Like a cartoon character the crumpled body of Fate seemed to spring and
pop, pulling itself back into shape. The helmet sprang up,
bobbing as it stared up at Albert, laughing. Black fire blazed
from its eyes, raging up the massive tree trunk legs of Atom
Smasher. Albert screamed, stumbling back and away off of the
platform and into the void as the fires overwhelmed him.
Nice shot…
Nabu stood, his head craning oddly as it shifted back into place atop
his shoulders. He stretched, his tarnished helm swiveling about
to see Ted Grant standing before him. Jack shot forward, star
fire crackling. No way Grant could handle that.
Even as Jack Knight streaked forward he saw Scott swooping in from the
far side. There was that blur too, a shimmer of violet as
something spiraled about Fate, arching off and away towards the
Rift. Jay Garrick was siphoning away Nabu’s speed, but the
mage did not seem to notice or care-
You fools just
will not learn. The Speed Force is my friend, Flash. The
magic of the Star Heart only makes me stronger. But please…
Fate turned his head towards Grant jutting out his jaw, the fighter
dancing about, fists raised and ready to strike-
Continue…
Wildcat smiled and wound up, his right hand flashing forward in a
devastating roundhouse that made Fate’s helm ring on
impact. Nabu staggered back, stumbled and almost fell with the
force of the blow, but Grant should have realized. Power Girl and
Atom Smasher had done nothing-
Pathetic.
Lightning crackled as both Jack and Scott attacked, the area around
Fate erupting in a wild display of starlight and green fire. Nabu
writhed, screaming as Garrick directed the energies of the Speed Force
at their foe, the friction scalding the already charred and mangled
body of Hector Hall. Nabu squealed in agony at the combined
assault, actually dropping to one knee as dark fire rippled over his
blackened skin-
“Pour it on!” Sentinel shouted, the flames of his power
raging and Jack knuckled down on the control studs of his staff,
willing more and more energy forth. Thunder pounded down, great
gouts of lightning raking the dirt and sending it spiraling off into
space. Something huge came screaming down from the heavens,
smashing into the dirt where fate knelt, shattering the plane even as
Wildcat yelped and leaped for safety. A meteor…
Jack watched as the plane of gathered debris disintegrated, drifting
away. Clouds of dust billowed and flowed from the impact, the
huge space rock already streaking away into the void. He saw
Grant ant Rothstein groping to larger chunks of rock, remnants of the
platform, drifting. Alan hovered far away, a green globe
encompassing an unconscious Max Mercury as well as an exhausted
Flash. There was no sign of Karen, and the Rift still bubbled
with dark energy-
Is-
Jack Knight spun about, his gaze finally spotting the source of the
voice. Fate was still there, floating, his mangled body flowing
back into shape like a child’s rubber doll. He looked up,
dark slits crackling with malice-
Is that all
you’ve got?
“No!”
There was a beam of golden energy that struck Nabu squarely in the
face, making him scream out and writhe. Instantly a black,
crackling streak of energy stretched forth, a black band of light
enveloping him head to toe, pulsing. He saw the mage struggling,
heard his curses as he was lost beneath the form that seemed almost
feminine, almost familiar wrapping him up. Then the vision was
gone as a wave of dark, inky smoke seemed to flow across everything
like a tide. THAT he recognized-
Jack Knight spun about, his pounding heart and pulse easing just a bit
to see his father standing there in space, smiling, his own Star Rod
sparkling. There was a huge bronze man at his side, armored- a
robot he realized- he knew the stories. And there was the
Shade…
“It’s okay Jack,” his father said, drifting forward,
starlight spewing from his rod at Fate. “The
cavalry’s arrived.”
Hoboken…
Michael Holt dropped to his knees, breath wheezing, burning in his
lungs. He had had no idea when he had first donned the mask and
set out on his crusade, had no idea that it could be like this.
He watched as the shadows oozed from the unconscious form before
him. He did not even know the man, but the thing, the creature
that he had become had been trying to kill him just moments
before. And there had been others, so many more this night.
The others had called in, signaling that they were under attack as
well. Whatever was happening it had been in the rain- that black
rain drizzling from the roiling pink clouds infecting those that did
not have the will and desire to fight back, to stave off whatever
disease was sweeping over the land. It was everywhere; Manhattan,
Metropolis, Gotham, probably around the world.
The shadows had washed over the people, just average citizens,
victims. The rain had corrupted them, twisting their bodies and
souls just as easily, making them rage, striking out randomly,
chaotically. Why he had not been affected he had no idea- nor the
others as well.
There was nothing important in him or Pieter. Certainly they were
smarter than average, faster, but they were hardly better. They
were not Meta like Vera, not even like Batman. What was the key
then?
Mister Terrific looked up to the familiar whirring sound and saw his
three T-Spheres whizzing his way. He had sent them out in a wide
arching perimeter to stop the infected earlier. Apparently they
had succeeded.
Holt stood feeling some comfort as his Spheres swirled about him.
He heard the body at his feet moan, and looking down he saw that the
man would recover. He was unharmed, maybe in shock at
worst. Probably he’d remember nothing of his ordeals.
That was the way, usually.
Holt wondered just how much he had forgotten over the years.
He looked up, staring at the roiling pink skies, thinking that they did
indeed look familiar. He had no idea why.
He wondered what might happen next…
Smallville…
“Ma! Pa!”
He should have been there. He should have been there for them,
just as they’d been there for him.
But no…
He had to go to Rhode Island. He had to go to be with Young
Justice. Hell, no one else had even showed. Robin had
stayed in Gotham since there had been no word from the Bat, and
Courtney had gone off with STRIPES to defend whatever city she lived
in. Even Impulse had been a no show.
Jeez, even Bart had a life…
And what hurt the worst, no Blue Beetle. Ted Kord was like forty,
and he had somewhere to defend.
Of course, Kon had Smallville. That was a given. Superman
had wanted him to stay with the Kents ‘to help him
grow’. To go to Smallville High and experience life, to be
a kid- a real kid. Right…
That had been a line of course. Big Blue had wanted Kon-El on the
farm to protect Ma and Pa. He knew that-
“So why’d you leave Kon? Why head off to YJ when
Superman was counting on you?
“Cuz you’re a jerk, Kon. An arrogant
dweeb…”
But to be fair, who knew the sky was going to rip open and spit black
rain? Who knew the cows and chickens were going to rise up like
Vampiric zombies straight out of Dawn of the Animal Farm and run amok-
Is that even a word?
“Chickens…”
Shadow Chickens- even worse. Animals straight outta Hell’s
barn yard running wild and pecking everything in sight with their inky
black beaks. And the cows…
Superboy shuddered, raking his fingers through his hair as he flew out
the back door, streaking for the barn. He slammed a tactile TK
hand down on another rampant fowl as he shot past, not caring a whit to
hear the bird’s screech of shock and pain, feathers flying in his
backdraft.
He had to find the Kents…
But a half-hour later standing in the living room he was just as
alone. The pie on the windowsill was cold, old, the flies had
gotten to it. There was a cold slimy cup of sour milk on the
table beside Pa’s favorite chair, situated just so in front of
the television. Ma’s slippers were right beside the stove,
waiting…
Just no Kents.
Kon-El held the phone receiver, listening to the familiar voice
speaking slowly and clearly on the other end of the line-
“…the Lois and Clark show is off the air at the
moment. For future show times leave your name and number and one
of our entourage will get back to you soon… BEEP!”
Kon hung up the phone. They were gone too. No
Superman…
And no Batman according to Robin…
Where were they?
Where is the JLA?
Space…
Cliff Steel slammed his fist down onto the helmet of Fate. He
heard the freak cry out, though whether Nabu or Hector Hall, he
didn’t care much. Trash the bitch, he’d sort it out
in the end. That’s the way it worked since day one,
didn’t matter the team. Course, once upon a time it worked
like magic.
Still, it was good t’ see Val again. He was sorry fate had
come along an’ fucked her life up again…
Fate…
Still, she was holdin’ it t’gether. Whatever that
black energy was now- and he was pretty sure it wasn’t
Trainer’s Negative Energy- she was makin’ the best of
it. Whatever it was too, it was hurtin’ Fate, an’
that’s all that mattered at the moment.
Steel smashed his fist into Fate’s head again. Metal on
metal, it rang real pretty, like a bell. He stepped back,
watching the good Doctor squirm a bit as Knight an’ his kid
blasted away again. Then the Lantern, or Sentinel, whatever Scott
was callin’ himself these days. The flare of power made his
receptors close and flutter it was so bright. Oddly though, when
the smoke cleared, Fate didn’t seem none the worse for
wear. What was he up to?
Steel looked about. The kid Sand had worked up the ground again
and used the grapples on the JLA’s little space cruiser to gather
up the Nuklon kid and the chick in white. Garrick was doin’
somethin’ to try an’ revive his buddy Max Mercury, and the
air looked a little queer about the two of ‘em in the
process. Starman Senior an’ Junior were blastin’ away
with Scott, tryin’ to take the fight outta Fate. And there
was the Shade…
The dark man what had gathered them all together was just
watchin’ that hole in space. Watchin’ the shadows
dance…
“Don’t seem right, does it?”
Steel glanced sideways to see Ted Grant at his side, watching as the
heavies hit on Fate. He looked up at the hole, at the Shade-
“Guy’s been a villain since before I put on the
spandex. Why the change of heart? What’s his
angle?”
Steel nodded. “Right, an’ why’s nobody but him
interested in that hole? Seems that’s what Scott an’
Knight ought’a be worried about, stead a’ beatin’ on
golden boy here-“
Well, look who
just caught up…
Steel and Grant both turned to see Fate staring at them. He
seemed unfazed as the green washed over him, as starlight blasted down
in myriad radiations. He laughed, then stood, peeling the
Negative Woman from his being before flicking her away like a spent
cigarette butt.
They say that the
meek shall inherit the Earth. Truth, it’ll be the stupid,
with me lording over all.
Nabu raised his hands and the Ankh appeared once again. It flared
and Cliff Steel heard the Star-men and Sentinel scream as black fire
washed over them. Wildcat turned to see the wave of darkness
engulf the others, bowling them over like the tide; Garrick and
Rothstein, Mercury and Starr. They all fell, just like
that. Both men stared as the fires swept over the Justice
League’s ship and a second later it exploded. There was no
sign of Sand…
“Bastard…”
Ted Grant spun about, ready to continue the fight, to seek revenge but
Fate had moved on. He saw Robotman pointing up, towards the
Rift. The hole had gotten larger and there was something
within. Something dark and misshapen, swirling in the shadows
with huge, glassy eyes and tentacles writhing from the gaping, jagged
maw that was its mouth. It had the Shade in its grip, whatever it
was-
Meet one of the
Elders, Ted. One of those beings that ruled between, in that time
before the Bangs. This one is C’thll- one of my
favorites. There will be more, believe me.
Ted Grant and Cliff Steel watched in awe as the creature from beyond
pulled the Shade closer. To his credit, Shade was struggling all
the way, his own shadowy force lashing out, though the creature did not
seem to notice, nor care.
The Reign of Chaos
is upon us old friends. As soon as the portal opens with the
Shade’s sacrifice they will all come streaming forth- all the old
Gods. Rejoice, brothers! Hallelujah!
They heard Shade’s screams then, realizing his fate at last as
the thing sucked him in. They wanted to run, to help, to fight,
but they were frozen, rooted to the spot where they stood. There
fellows likewise, or done- dead. There was nothing.
Nothing…
What?
He was suddenly, simply there.
He was huge, massive, yet an apparition swelling on cosmic winds,
riding the storm. His face was impassive, hidden in the shadows
of his cowl, his long cloak swirling and rippling with his slightest
movement. His skin was scarred, mottled from that life before,
bleached a chalky white of death. His eyes blazed as he looked
down on those beneath him, the fires of vengeance sparking his being
and desire-
“Aw, fuck,” Ted Grant said finally, glancing at the
Robotman beside him. “We are so screwed…”
“That’s an Elder God I think…”
Rajas glanced down at the tiny dead man flitting about his being.
The little red speck was buzzing something, bleating,
unimportant. It did not matter. Rajas saw the evil for what
it was, the old infection trying to seep through, to come forth.
To spread…
This was what the stranger had meant. This is what he had
said. This is what Rajas had been chosen for- why. The Hand
of God. The Spirit of Vengeance. Vengeance for all those
souls taken wantonly by the dark rain, the chaos that followed.
Here now was the wrath.
The Spectre reached out, forward, his great hand encircling the
writhing, foul tentacles spewing forth from the vile creature slipping
through. He saw the dark shade squirming, his essence all but
gone but ignored the little man’s pitiable screams. His
time would come soon enough, but not yet. Not this day.
The Hand of God closed his fist and heard the screams of the Eld not
heard in time immeasurable. He had heard it before, in his
dreams. It was that echo that resounded throughout the universe,
that whine forever at the edge of hearing all but ignored. The
death knell of another time- a time of monsters and demons.
Of Chaos…
The Spectre tightened his grip, watching as the Shade fell away.
He pulled, drawing the Elder God forth, closer, ignoring its
whimpering, mewling screams for pity. There was none- no
mercy. Nothing but wrath…
Vengeance
The creature of Chaos shrieked as the white, cleansing light washed
over it. It squirmed and writhed like a worm on a hook as its
being and essence leeched away, back to the void. Rajas could
hear its begging, its pleas for mercy. There was none.
Vengeance
Shade stared up and up at the towering figure above. He was
massive, awesome, all the more so knowing where he had come from, and
why. It had come full circle at last…
Thank God.
Vengeance
Alan Scott sat up, the radiance making him squint, making his eyes
water. He tried to look to the light, but all he saw were shadows
flowing within-
“What the hell’s happening?”
He heard Jack Knight, the boy’s voice a whisper, struck with
wonder and awe. Alan suspected. He had seen it before, too
many times-
“Is it Corrigan?”
He heard Ted Knight’s voice as well, shaken as his son’s.
“I don’t think so,” Grant said and Alan felt a hand
on his shoulder, strong and reassuring. Full of hope- they all
felt it he knew. That was the Spectre’s way.
“Rajas…”
They all turned to the girl, the blonde wrapped head to toe in
bandages. Steel was at her side, helping her up but she shook him
off, standing on her own as she stared into the light.
“It’s Rajas,” she said. “God help
us…”
Vengeance
Nabu stared watching as the Spectre drained the life- such as it was-
out of C’thll. The Elder God screamed, knowing what was
coming, wriggling in the grip of HIS right hand as its energies
ebbed. Its struggles slowed, waning, though the damnable scream
remained.
Echoing forever, mingling with all the other dying voices bouncing
across the universe.
There was a final shudder, a spasm as the creature expelled its waste
into the void then fell silent, wilted. An empty husk, the
Spectre gave a final shake and squeeze then cast it away back into the
hole. Back into the Chaos that had spawned it, dead, dead, dead.
There was no ghastly explosion, no fanfare of trumpets, it was simply
gone. It was over before it had truly begun. Chaos had been
turned, just like that. Divine intervention…
Nabu hated it, and now it was looking directly at him. Nabu
sighed, wondering why he did not remember this. What had gone
wrong? Still, there was yet a chance. He was not done yet,
and if there was one thing that Khufu and his little friends had taught
him over the millennia, it was that there was always hope.
He would be more than happy to throw that one in their collective faces.
Nabu grew. It was a simple matter when one knew how, and
apparently expected. The Spectre simply watched, waiting.
He did it all the time after all, inspiring fear into the little
people. Those he was about to smite.
When he reached the Spectre’s stature, Nabu stared for a moment,
oddly. The fires burned, but he stayed his hand-
I know you.
You were there with the girl in Russia. The sickly man…
I know you as well, Lord of Order
corrupted. I know you well. The spirits of those you have
slain cry out to me for vengeance!
Yeah, yeah…
Nabu raised his hands, black flames raging forth only to be met by the
white light of the Spectre’s Holy wrath. The void exploded
in light and shadow as the two forces met, both beings reaching out
until they touched, their fingers interlocking. Nabu laughed at
the Spectre’s grimace, dark power surging as he drove the Wrath
of God back.
The fires still burned within. The Rift yet remained. It
was not over. There were other gods- C’thll was but the
first, the closest to hear his call. Perhaps with another
sacrifice, a larger one, the others might still come. Nabu
pressed all the harder…
“This don’t look too good, guys.”
No one said a word at Wildcat’s observation, but he knew that
they were all thinking the same thing. Maybe it was his
inexperience- it wasn’t Corrigan after all. Maybe Nabu was
simply that strong. It really did look however as though the
Spectre was losing.
Nabu had grown to meet the Spectre head on, and they had been locked in
a gigantic war of ‘Mercy’ ever since. The black fires
that Fate wielded were raging about the pair, and little by little they
all could see the Spectre being forced back and down.
“We need to help him!” Power Girl said taking to the sky,
heedless of the danger.
“Karen! No!”
Too late, Alan Scott’s warning fell on deaf ears as Power Girl
pierced the protective bubble he had erected to keep them all alive in
the icy void of space. Whatever had been creating the atmosphere
before, be it Nabu or the creature he had been trying to bring forth,
or even the Rift itself, it was gone. It had been a tense moment
as Scott had gathered them all together, including the reformed Sand
who had survived the exploding ship somehow. The only one missin
was the Shade.
Sentinel licked his lips as he willed the green out farther, forming a
massive hand to engulf the straining, gasping form of Power Girl.
Luckily she was stronger than most, but even she could not survive the
depths of space for long. He pulled her back into the warmth and
protection of the sphere, the others rushing to her side as she
shivered and heaved.
There was a brilliant flare as the Spectre reared back, seemingly in
agony. They all shuddered to hear him scream.
“She’s right, Alan,” Ted Knight said, Jay Garrick at
his side. “We have to do something.”
“I’m open to suggestions. I can’t attack and
keep all of you safe as well. Not against the power they’re
throwing around.”
“The Speed Force then,” Garrick suggested.
“Maybe Max and I can redirect its energies again to help the
Spectre.”
“That didn’t really work before, Jay,” Wildcat
corrected, stepping beside his old friends as well. "You said
yourself that your Speed Force seemed out of control somehow.
An’ who knows what that Time Trapper did to it, or the League for
that matter. Hell, I keep expectin’ them ta come
jumpin’ outta that hole n’ save the day,
y’know?”
They nodded, one by one. Each had hoped that all of this might
somehow draw their friends back home from wherever they were, but so
far-
“Sure, the JLA’d be nice ridin’ to the rescue right
about now, but that’s not what this is about.”
All eyes turned to see Jack Knight. He was looking at his hand,
flexing his fingers as though he had never seen them before. He
glanced up, feeling their stares and smiled sheepishly.
“Jack,” Ted Knight asked, putting a hand on his son’s
arm. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think that’s Jack,” Steel said, his
red eyes flashing.
“Well,” the younger Starman said, grinning still.
“It is and it isn’t. Boston Brand,
folks…”
“Dead Man-“
“In the flesh.” Jack Knight looked about, finally
shrugging. “Sorry, it’s the only joke I got.”
“What are you doing here, Brand?” Alan Scott said, letting
his hand flare with power. “We all know you, or know of
you. What do you know about this?”
Jack Knight looked up at the Spectre still struggling against Fate,
shaking his head. “I got the dilly second hand, boss.
From the Stranger, and if you know him, then you know I don’t
know squat. Shade was involved somehow, but he’s run into
the shadows. All’s I know for sure is that the girl’s
involved.” Starman gestured at Vostok who was looking up at
the battling giants. “She’s the key here-“
“Val,” Steel said, crouching down beside his old
teammate. “What do you know?”
Valentina Vostok looked up, her eyes wide behind her bandages.
“It’s Rajas,” she said, a quaver in her voice.
“Rajas from Red Square. He’s the Spectre, and the
Stranger said that I would be needed to balance. What, I
don’t-“
“Compassion, keed,” Jack offered. “Vengeance is
nothing without compassion, regret… love. That’s
what happened with Corrigan. The closer he got to redemption, the
more detached he became, and his version of the Spectre became less
sympathetic. All about the act, and not carin’ about the
why’s.”
“But Rajas is nothing to me. A friend I suppose, but-“
“But maybe you're something to him?” Steel said, his
electronic eyes glaring at the girl.
“Give the big robot a cee-gar!” Brand chuckled.
“Rajas loved you, toots, an’ it don’t matter if you
returned it. Like it or not, you’re the anchor what’s
gonna keep the Spectre grounded, an’ sane hopefully.”
“But, what can I do?” Vostok asked, the voice in the back
of her head finally shouting-
Go to him!
Where is your
faith now, Spectre?
Nabu heaved, increasing his strength, his power, driving the Spectre to
his knees before him. He laughed, feeling the rush of power, of
triumph. He would yet win the day. God was weak…
Where is your
God? Why has he forsaken you?
HE
has not… Lord of Chaos. HE
is ever at my side! HIS
rod and staff-
Blah, blah,
blah… Tough talk from an Agnostic. Burn!
Fire erupted from Fate’s helm; twin beams of black fire engulfing
the spirit in a conflagration. The Spectre screamed as Nabu drove
him down.
Surrender,
bitch! Join me and mine! There’s a special place for
traitors in Chaos!
No… Never…
The Spectre moaned, whimpering as the Order Lord corrupted drove him to
the ‘dirt’. Tears welled in his eyes, not of pain but
of loss. Where was the direction? Where was the guidance,
the VOICE? He had believed, dammit. He had accepted!
“Rajas…”
The Spectre looked up, out, his vision blurred…
“Rajas… I’m here…”
He saw the glowing; a sparkling band of black as it streaked
forward. There was a figure at its head, feminine, a voice.
He watched as it started encircling the Order Lord’s legs,
wrapping about its body-
What?
Nabu looked down, the dark slits in his helm flaring with a black
flame. Smoke began to rise where they touched, and Rajas could
hear the sizzle of burn.
Lieutenant Colonel…
The Negative Woman continued her course, her body stretching, wrapping
about Fate. The Order Lord directed his energies at the new
threat, but she went on, unperturbed, binding.
The Spectre struggled upright, to his feet, watching. Fate was
wide-eyed, flailing, the negative energies of the woman- the creature
that he had created hurting him. He heard the other voice
laughing as Nabu staggered, black flame blazing from his fingertips-
NO!
Nabu fell, crashing to space, the very fabric of reality shuddering
with impact even as Rajas struggled to rise. He reached out, his
great right hand grasping for the hole, the Rift in space and
time…
Vengeance…
His finger caught the edge of the hole, dragging and tearing.
Pink energy flared, spilling forth as shadows writhed and coalesced
within, just beyond.
There was a light, bright and clear… pure…
“Now what?” Wildcat asked, his arm shielding his eyes from
the blinding glare.
“Something… Someone’s coming through…”
Alan Scott felt the surge of power as the Star Heart blazed, green fire
arching up towards the Rift, guiding. There were tears in his
eyes, staring into the glow- the beautiful glow- and he could hear the
others gasping with the searing pain.
“Now there’s somethin’ ya don’t see everyday,
Chauncey…”
Jack Knight laughed as the rest stared, blinked, trying to see.
There was a man there in the Rift; a man with wings and a sword all
glory and might burning bright. Bright with Vengeance…
“Carter?”
“You all keep saying that,” Boston Brand said as he left
Jack Knight’s body, the younger Starman falling to the floor of
the bubble, his father at his side.
Zauriel, Angel of the Lord, Warrior of the Eagle Host raised his sword
high as the Spectre reached out, grabbing Nabu’s exposed throat-
The Negative Woman pulled tight, binding the Lord of Order-
Nabu screamed…
Prolog One
Zauriel stared at the cleaved halves of the tarnished, golden
helmet. They were whole for the most part, dented and scarred,
true, but cleanly cut and exorcised. The presence was gone, left
for the worlds away, the Realms Beyond leaving only the shell, the
empty husk that had been.
Zauriel raised his sword, his trustworthy blade and saw the dark fires
licking the clean edge. Nabu was dead, moved on at least, but the
horror remained. Above the Rift still rippled and surged.
Below the voices continued to cry out.
The Spectre stared as well, but not at the shell. Zauriel was the
object of his affection, the harbinger and bearer, old and new.
Do not do this. There is no
need. It can end here and now…
The woman stood at his side, uncomprehending, but the Spectre knew and
continued to stare, eyes blazing with Vengeance.
“My time is nigh,” the Angel said, raising his sword
high. Black fire sparked, a gout of flame shooting high into the
heavens, vanishing into the void.
“It is done.”
The Spectre nodded as the Angel took wing, watching as he dwindled,
following the blaze, gone. He turned to the woman-
Valentina Vostok reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing the
chalky skin. Oddly, the spirit flinched, backed away-
It is over…
The Spectre cast his gaze skyward, his face grim. He seemed sad-
And just begun…
He turned to the woman, his body paling, blowing on the breeze, the
cosmic winds-
Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel.
The words echoed even as his image faded from sight and Valentina
Vostok dropped to her knees and cried…
Prolog Two
The Watchtower…
Hector Hall woke to light, bright and white, glaring overhead. He
blinked, eyes tearing as he turned away, trying to flail, to shield his
eyes and focus on the shadows. The moving shadows that surrounded
him…
“Hello Hector,” a voice said, a form swirling in his
sight. He saw reds and greens, a shock of blonde hair.
“How do you feel?”
He hurt. He would not lie. His body felt burnt to a crisp,
mangled and crushed and he had a splitting headache
“Fine. I’m… What happened?”
“He’s dead, Hector,” he heard Alan Scott’s
voice, calm and sure, reassuring. “Nabu’s dead.”
“How?” he asked, blinking, trying to focus. He saw
them all eventually, slowly. Green Lantern and Flash, Wildcat and
Max Mercury lying in the bed next to him, smiling. The old man in
the old suit had to be Ted Knight- it had been years- but he was
standing next to Jack. He saw Karen and Al, both smiling in
approval, and Sandy- had to be. The Justice Society gathered at
his bedside, but smiling. He would live, despite how he felt.
Sentinel held up a glowing globe of green that contained the twin
halves of Nabu’s helm, cleaved right down the center.
Hector stared in disbelief, the voices in his head finally stilled;
Kent and Inza, and Jarred…
“It was the Spectre, and the Angel, Zauriel. In the end
they were too much for him. Too strong.”
“it’s over kid,” Wildcat said, smirking.
“But…” Hector gasped, his hand reaching out for the
helmet as Scott backed away, out of reach. “My
father. Where is he?”
“Your father’s dead, Hec,” Wildcat said looking to
the others.
“He’s been gone some time now,” Garrick added.
“No!” Hector Hall gasped, looking at the faces staring down
at him in confusion. They did not understand-
“I heard him. He’s coming home…”
Prolog Two and a half...
“So, what happens now?”
Lieutenant Colonel Valentina Vostok turned to glare at her old friend,
the man in the robot body. Cliff Steel smiled as best as he
could, as much as his prefabricated body would allow. He had
draped his form in a long, black coat, a thick butt of cigar hanging
from his metallic jaws, billowing smoke. He did not breathe
really, and she knew that his body filtered out the nicotine and
carcogins, so it was all for show. Still, he did look impressive.
“Now,” he said, a little fan whirring somewhere in his
depths and blowing the smoke about. “Now you get ta save
the world, over and over. Yer Rajas is on the edge, so you gotta
keep him sane. You gotta keep him human- or close as you
can.”
“He’s not my Rajas, Steel. This is not fair.”
Cliff Steel held up his bronzed hands, staring at them for a moment
before shoving them back into his deep pockets. “My old pal
Greg told me life was fair once. I figger he was wrong. If
life was fair I wouldn’t be a walkin’ trash can. If
life was fair, Hector Hall wouldn’t be lyin’ in a hospital
bed just a couple floors away. Rita wouldn’t be dead.
Life ain’t fair Val. Suck it up.”
“I hate you…”
“Yeah, well, you ain’t no walk in the roses for me either,
kid. We make do, do what we gotta do. That’s why we
make the BIG bucks.”
Valentina Vostok stepped to the view port, the wide expanse that seemed
to show all the stars in the heavens. The Earth was there, far at
the edge, a crescent. Meteors skitted across, just ahead of her
sight.
“How will I find him? How will I know?”
Cliff Steel, the Robotman chuckled letting the bit of his cigar flare
red. “You’ll know darlin’. Believe
me. I been doin’ this too long. I’m here for
ya…”
Lieutenant Colonel Valentina Vostok, formerly of the RSDC, the RDC, Red
Square Command and the Doom Patrol turned, tears in her eyes. She
was afraid, but she knew that she was no longer alone…
Prolog Three
The WALL…
At the edge of Reality there was a
barrier. Built on the calcified remains of all those that came
before, those that had tried to pass, it stretched to Infinity,
blocking Beyond, separating here and there, now and then.
It was such that none might pass,
though many had tried. In its day it had seen wanderers and
heralds, guardians and manhunters, dark lords and deities. All
had stared in awe, wondering. None had passed beyond save
one…
It had cracked however. Recent
events had made the WALL weak, its foundations troubled, its
fortifications crumbling ruins to what they once had been. Those
inhabitants spawned upon the WALL had departed long since, and now
there was silence in the void save for the occasional shift of mass,
the crack of stone.
Metron watched in anticipation, his
arched brow rising only slightly as the black fire burst forth, licking
and lapping at the stony front. It vanished as quickly as it had
come, but it was enough.
There was a shift, stone and more
falling away. Light flared as cracks appeared in the surface, a
stoic form restless, beginning to move, to break away. Metron
smiled, watching, ever watching and waiting.
The Great Darkness stirred…
To be Continued...
Next Issue: Once again there will be a slight break as I
catch up. Fear not however, as there are three story arches
waiting to be told. Which comes first is the question. Stay
tuned…
Send Reviews, Comments, and Other Mail to Curtis
Fernlund
Story © 2005 Curt
Fernlund and may not be reproduced without permission.
