What
led to this...
Revitalized
by Vandal Savage. Reborn in Dark Genesis. William
Zard had
a dream...
The Wizard first gathered power, subjugating Felix Faust to his whim
and trapping the sorceror within the Luck Stones of Bel; God of
Thieves. Next he gathered friends; his old and aging allies
from
the Injustice Society of America, and their progeny. Then he
gathered enemies...
Zard had died in Dark Genesis you see, a hero that went to Hell, but
found his way out with the help of others, like Orpheus, walking back
to the world of the living. There he learned of things that
might
have been, and once were; other worlds and dimensions shattered by
Crisis! He did not look back...
The Wizard created a new team of Outsiders to gather the things that he
would need; implements to recreate his version of Nirvana, another
Earth that lived only in memory. He recreated too, the Secret
Society of Super-villains to achieve his dream, tricking a cabal of the
world's direst villains, gathering tokens like an adamantine arrow head
and a cosmic rod to booster his might. Too, he gathered
souls;
the White Martians!
Zard gathered his flock and fold and fled the world, using his power to
recreate Earth 2 in his image; a happier, simpler time, where good and
evil were black and white and no one ever died. His Injustice
Society ruled Earth 2, displacing the Crime Syndicate of Amerika,
living his dream for months, battling the White Martians guised as the
Justice Society of America...
But there was unrest and boredom, and slowly his dream started to
fade...
Then came Krona!
A
dark force taunted Hal
Jordan
drawing him and
Parallax back. Subservient to Krona, Parallax set out to destroy the
universe
so his master could watch a new universe be born. The Watchtower
disappeared, teleported
into Limbo with its occupants onboard, removing them from the playing
field. Flash
and Jade find evidence that Parallax is involved. The other heroes
responded to
blowback disasters sweeping across the planet as Krona and Parallax
tore at the
edges of reality bringing about a Big
Crunch.
A
tale that began here at JLU: 2001 with Will Short's first magnificent
run on JLA, and has touched on almost every title since, will finally
conclude...
Limbo:
The outskirts of the Necropolis:
The Watchtower…
“The
transdimensional vibrations are cresting,” Superman
said.
“I can feel the portal opening,” Zauriel
added.
J’onn J’onzz flipped a switch on the Watchtower
control panel.
A thrumming built up from the depths of the tower, shaking the
plasto-crete and regolith foundations and the steel, Thanagarium, and
promethium body of the tower. A strobing light
swept from the base of the Tower to the top and its physical structure
faded from view, leaving the outline visible for a moment before
disappearing totally.
Deadman looked up from where he stood facing the horde of faceless
Limbo zombies. “Bon voyage, my
friends. ”
Earth-1:
The
Moon:
Mare
Tranquillitatis:
The
JLA Watchtower…
A rippling motion stirred the dust of the Moon’s surface near
the center of the Sea of Tranquility.
One second, the space was empty. The
next…
The stars came first, shining pinpricks of light piercing the black
velveteen backdrop of space and stretching away into
infinity. Even with that first barrage of spackling light
Clark felt a warmth wash through his body, the solar radiation of
billions upon billions of suns filling him with energy once
again. He felt his strength returning, revitalizing him with
life and will as he stood before the massive window of the Observation
Deck, arms spread wide and absorbing all that was offered.
It had been so long…
A smile crept across his face as his blue-gray eyes sparkled in the
ambiance, the first rays of Sol creeping into view and filling him with
the power that was his Kryptonian heritage, a wayward soul, an orphan
cast-away on Earth. The sun blazed undaunted and full, a
raging orb of atomic fire unhindered in the barren, void atmosphere of
the moon, burning away the shadows of Limbo that still clung to him
like cobwebs, driving the emptiness away.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes closed as he
reveled in the gift of life, the covenant shared between foster mother
and adopted son. He did not notice his two allies as they
eyed him; one curiously, the other knowing.
He noted the sound of bulkhead doors closing in the lower sectors of
the Tower. Red lights on the monitor panels turned green as
the breached surface sections of the Tower were sealed to maintain
atmospheric integrity. The lights flickered before firming up
as the Watchtower came back to life about him.
“We’ll need to sweep the systems and find what
works and what doesn’t,” he
thought…glancing back up at the panorama of space before
him. Taking a deep breath, he said, sotto voce, as the
comfortable smile returned to his face, “in a
minute.”
J’onn J’onzz, the Martian Manhunter knew too well
the feelings that were swelling within his teammate and
friend. Like the Kryptonian, he too was an abandoned child
that had found home and solace on Earth, his own Mars barren and void,
purged by fire and plague of life. He had been stripped of
his home world for decades, trapped on the world he now called home,
awaiting the technology to return while his people had died.
He had come to accept the Earth, if not love it, and now returning from
the depths of Limbo, the very borders of Hell he felt almost joy.
And beside the last Green Martian, the Archangel Zauriel watched the
two aliens, feeling the spirit move within both. He too was
cast out, his true home denied him and he had been exiled on the Earth
first as a dupe of a mad, dark God and then as a pawn to
another. He turned his gaze on the glistening blue orb
hanging nearly full in the black sky and could understand the
dedication of his comrades, if not the love. It was a world
of vast potential, both glorious and devastating. It was
debatably His greatest creation, His most dismal failure. To
Zauriel however, it was not home.
ARRRGGH!
Both Superman and Zauriel staggered as J’onn J’onzz
suddenly screamed, psychic daggers of agony slicing through their
minds. The Martian dropped to his knees, his hands clutching
at his skull as his morpheous body rippled, waves of mental anguish
flowing outward to slam into the companions like a tidal wave of force.
“J’onn!” Superman shouted, reeling before
the mental onslaught, his head pounding in rhythm to his hammering
heart. Nearby the Archangel fluttered skyward, massive wings
rustling and ruffling as gray-skinned fingers clawed at the golden helm
upon his head in an effort to rip it away and ease the pain.
Noooo!
Again an agonized shout shrieked in their minds, pain lancing, piercing
them to the core as both Celestial Guardian and Man of Tomorrow fell to
the cold polished floor. Both men felt the anguish and agony
of their friend even as he slumped prostrate beside them.
Both heard the babble of exhilarated voices howling with sudden
excitement, echoing in the hollows of memory and thought…
J’onzz…
J’onzz!
He’s
there!
Go!
Take him!
J’onzz!
“J’onn…” the Superman gasped,
blood trickling from his nose and ears at the psychic
assault. “J’onn.
Stop…” But J’onn J’onzz,
Manhunter from Mars paid no heed as he looked up, his huge brow
overshadowing the wide points of light that were his eyes, glaring in
horror. Struggling to rise, Clark looked skyward…
“Great Rao…”
At first he thought it was some strange reflection, or maybe a
recurring memory, déjà vu. He stared
wide-eyed at the huge construct that seemed to be growing before his
eyes, spinning slightly and loosing debris. He was reminded
of the old Justice League Satellite, but he knew that that had decayed
and burned from orbit years ago. Then what –
“White…” J’onzz gasped,
Zauriel at his side trying to give aid and comfort. Clark
looked to his friend, clawing for purchase on the slick, cold
floor. “White Martians!” J’onn
shrieked, his voice choked and shrill as his face slammed down and he
lay unmoving.
“White Martians?” Zauriel asked even as Clark Kent
looked to space again. The sun blazed in the background as
silhouetted shadows flitted about the space station looming in the
panoramic view. What he had thought to be debris, bits of
flotsam wrenched from the construct were actually beings, vile,
soulless creatures that the Man of Steel had hoped to never encounter
again.
“White Martians,” he said, only then realizing what
he was seeing, as the satellite headquarters of the Crime Syndicate of
Amerika wheeled above them and shot downward…
Impossibly fast…
“No!” Peripherally, he saw that the
Tower’s meteor deflection system was offline.
And the world exploded around him…
Earth-1:
The
Moon…
A debris field spread across the Moon’s surface.
Lots of ejecta from the Watchtower’s destruction achieved
escape velocity. The system that was supposed to teleport
evacuate the Trophy Room and the Weapons Lockers failed.
Water from the hydroponics labs and the Aquarium boiled away as the
atmosphere in the deep sections of the Watchtower failed. The
promethium reactor melted down a few moments after the impact,
destroying more of the deep foundation of the Tower.
The Bell, the Jar, and the Wheel settled into a rapidly decaying high
Earth orbit. Other objects in the debris field fell back to
the Moon, followed the demonic vessels, or drifted off into deep space.
Amidst the miles high mushroom cloud over the Watchtower site, three
bodies floated.
Earth-1:
Fawcett
City…
Mary Bromfield was lost in thought. She was hurrying along the bustling
sidewalk when her world changed…
It had been weeks since she had seen or heard from either Billy or
Freddy, and, frankly, that was fine with her. They had both
made it quite clear that they had little time for her in their lives,
what with Billy infrequently hobnobbing with the JLA and Freddy with
the Titans, actually changing his name to CM3. Mary snorted,
as if that would make a difference.
She had long ago accepted that they- the Marvel Family- would always be
considered a poor man’s version of Superman and his
ilk. Poor, naïve Billy as Captain Marvel would
always be seen as ‘the Big Red Cheese’, a shadow of
the Man of Steel, while she would be a misty, watery reflection of his
‘cousin’ Supergirl. Freddy Freeman did
not even have a counterpart (unless you counted Superboy), but was
simply swept up in the negative hype.
No matter that the Marvels were stronger. No matter that they
weren’t plagued by a seemingly endless supply of faults,
frailties and weaknesses. Magic did not effect them; hell it
was the basis of their powers as gifted by the Old Wizard,
Shazam. There were no irradiated rocks that would sap their
strength. No vengeful ancestors that would come calling from
lost dimensions with enough power to raze the world.
Except for Adam of course.
Mary had to smile at that, and the memory of Black Adam with all his
pomp and delusions of grandeur humbled by a woman with no powers at
all. Black Canary had castrated the arrogant SOB, and it
could not have happened to a more deserving-
“Hey!” Mary shouted as a man hurried past, shoving
her aside as he charged down the street. Looking up and
around she saw that suddenly there were several people hustling about,
terror in their eyes as they hurried away. Others were
standing stricken and staring skyward, some pointing and all looking
panicked. Mary Bromfield followed their collective gaze and
paled.
In the early morning hours there on Binder Boulevard in the Business
District of Fawcett City, she like so many other working commuters
looked up into the pale skies of false dawn in horror. The
earthshine reflection of the moon hung heavy in the sky as the
sun’s dazzling rise hid the true satellite in its
glare. Today it seemed bloated and almost within reach, but
that was normal in the full moon phase, and that was not the spark of
terror.
What sent a shiver of horror through the crowd was the flash of light
that sparkled on the moon’s surface. Bright enough
to draw attention, it seemed a fire blazing, glowing brighter than the
dawn stars, Venus and Mercury dull by comparison. An
eruption, an explosion of light that could only mean one
thing…
“Billy,” Mary Bromfield sans Batson whispered as
she watched the light flare in intensity, then just as swiftly dwindle
and wink out. She could hear the mutterings of her fellow
pedestrians, the blare of car horns as traffic swiftly snarled in the
confusion as people ran madly into the streets. Speculation
and innuendo ran rampant, but Mary knew what was happening.
The whole world had been in the grip of catastrophe lately.
Earthquakes and storms were running rampant around the globe, tsunamis
devastating the shores of foreign lands. Hurricanes raged in
the east and monsoons in the west. The world’s
heroes had been running ragged trying to contain the potential
devastation, and both Captain Marvel and CM3 had been in the thick of
it. Mary was not sure exactly where Freddy had been the last
few, hectic days, but she knew that Captain Marvel had been working
with the JLA, through Oracle. And there was only one thing on
the moon that tied in with the devastation happening all over the
Earth; the JLA Watchtower!
Billy was in danger, she just knew it, and despite reservation and vow,
she knew what she had to do.
“Shazam.”
People screamed as lightning flashed in their midst. Thunder
boomed, roiling overhead and slamming down. The ground shook
and rumbled and the stench of burning ozone filled the air.
Blinded and panicked the people of Fawcett City scrambled, rubbing
their eyes and groping blindly for safety as a wicked chill wind
suddenly whipped past.
And on the fringes, those whose eyes watered and ears did not
reverberate with the deafening echo of age-old Arcana looked skyward to
catch a glimpse of the scarlet and gold streak shooting skyward with
the fleetness of Zephyrus.*
Their hero, one of three had returned at long last…
*SHAZAM
for Lady Captain Marvel: Selena for grace, Hippolyta for strength,
Ariadne for skill, Zephyrus for fleetness (and flight), Aurora for
beauty, and Minerva for wisdom.
Earth-1:
The
Bat Cave;
Gotham
City…
<What
the hel->
The Batman stared at the communications console, the white slits of his
cowl narrowing as he frowned. Static poured from the
speakers, annoying and distracting so he turned down the gain as he
glanced at the tertiary monitors trying to puzzle out what had just
happened.
He had been speaking to West, the Scarlet Speedster and Jade still at
the United Nations in New York and seeking guidance when the Watchtower
beacon had reappeared briefly- very briefly. Flash and Jade
had seen it as well, and Oracle had texted on the open monitor to
reaffirm. And then, just as suddenly it was gone.
And now communications had failed in a wash of static.
“Oracle,” the Batman said, adjusting the
communications array to broadcast on a wider range, hoping that Barbara
Gordon was doing the same. He could feel the eyes of the
others upon him as he worked, Manitou Raven as well as the four that
had crossed over from Earth 2; Owlgirl, Power Ring, Obsidian and the
man that claimed to be Beast Boy, the Changeling, Garfield
Logan. A man that should be dead by all rights, but the
Batman had learned long ago that death was often ephemeral at best, in
some cases at any rate. “Oracle,” he said
again.
“Batman?” He heard Logan’s
voice, tinged with fear and lacking the usual carefree attitude that
had usually accompanied his words.
“What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” he replied stoically,
“yet. Be quiet.”
“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Mr. Miracle said
with a smile from his perch on a nearby workbench, his fingers caught
in a Chinese finger puzzle. “Crisis…the
End of the World…the usual stuff.”
“I sense turmoil on the Psychic Plane,” Manitou
Raven added, and the Batman glanced at the Indian Shaman. The
man was a visitor from the past, from the Obsidian Age; that time
between Atlantis and proper history as recorded by mankind. A
mage not quite on the par of Fate, but formidable in his own
right. “I heard the Martian,
J’onzz. He was in agony, and then
silenced.”
Batman’s frown deepened as his hands worked the console,
trying to raise Oracle. J’onzz and the Watchtower
then had returned, hopefully with Superman and Zauriel as
well. But then both had vanished as mysteriously as they had
appeared. The Batman clenched his fists, staring at the
monitors –
Bat-
SQWARK!
“Oracle!”
The Batman’s hands flew across the controls trying to lock
onto Oracle’s broadcast. His fingers slid the touch
pad along the dial, looking for feed. He felt sweat forming,
trickling down from under his cowl.
“Drop the gain to 93% and kill the secondary
beacons,” he heard Owlgirl say over his shoulder.
He glanced back to see the girl staring intently at the monitors, her
eyes flickering from screen to screen.
“You’re wasting broadcast power on redundant
signals and wasting time scanning the dial. Focus your power
base into one signal. If your Oracle knows what
she’s doing she’ll find you. Move!
Let me.”
The Batman was about to protest when the girl pulled her cowl back and
shoved past to sit in the communication console’s
chair. He saw the shaved crop of red hair, and the scar that
blazed pink about her left temple, but there was no doubt in his
mind. This was the Earth 2 Barbara Gordon. He
watched as her fingers flew over the keyboard, occasionally tapping the
touch sensitive monitors, realigning the power grid and redistributing
the bulk of the WiFi and radio feed.
Batman?
“Oracle!” he said as the Owlgirl leaned smugly back
in the chair and crossed her legs.
“Status! Quickly!”
Where
to start? The world disasters are raging out of control, and
now something just happened on the moon. I got a brief blip
from the Watchtower and now it’s gone.
Communication’s shot to Hell. I’ve lost
contact with almost everyone. It’s like an EMP went
off.
“We need to reestablish our communication network,”
the Batman said stating the obvious. He could hear the
desperation in Oracle’s voice, but there was little to do but
continue on. “We have to coordinate the- “
You
don’t think I’m trying?
The Batman heard Barbara Gordon’s voice catch and he
grimaced. She was a good soldier, but he knew her past, what
had happened to her and there was always the chance that she might
crack despite the cold façade she wore.
My
operatives are blind, deaf and dumb in the midst of a Mega
crisis! They’re looking for guidance…
support, and I can’t give them shit!
“Oracle,” the Batman said, trying to find the words
to calm her.
“We should prepare a defense,” Manitou Raven said
almost casually. The Batman afforded him a glance and saw the
Shaman staring up into the shadowy reaches of the Cave over head.
THOOM!!
“Whoa, what the hell was that?” Power Ring asked,
his ring flaring green.
BOOM!!
The Batman saw dust drifting down from overhead, the echo of the noise
reverberating throughout the Cave over and over. He heard the
shriek and squeal of bats in the distance.
“I don’t – “
DOOM!!!
Rock shattered in the cavern’s ceiling as the Batman heard
the ecstatic shriek and squeal of voices exploding in his
mind…
There!
The
Bat!
The
devil!
He’s
here!
Here!
Kill
him! Kill them all!
The Batman looked up as the roof of the bedrock of the cave was
shredded and ripped away and a score of White Martians poured through
the gaping rent, bloodlust raging in their slitted eyes…
 |
The World's
Greatest Superheroes!
BLACKEST
NIGHT
Part
Six
The Dark Before the Dawn
|
JLA #55
October, Year Seven |
by Mark Anderson /
Curtis Fernlund
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ROLL CALL: JLA
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| MARTIAN
MANHUNTER |
SUPERMAN |
THE
BATMAN |
ZAURIEL |
MISTER
MIRACLE
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MANITOU
RAVEN |
ORACLE |
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| STEEL |
AZTEK |
FLASH
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JADE
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LADY
CAPTAIN MARVEL |
BLUE BEETLE
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BOOSTER GOLD
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ROLL CALL:
GUEST STARS
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| PROTEX |
METRON
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CSA
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POWER
RING V
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BEAST
BOY
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SPECTRE |
WONDER WOMAN
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Earth-2…
Krona allowed himself to grow taller to better observe
what was happening. He stood astride the Earth-2 cosmos draped in
stars, comets, and nebula. His arms outstretched holding the
Earth-2 universe in the palms of his hands.
Slowly, he brought his hands together, crushing the universe.
Flashes of light along the edges heralded the deaths of stars and
civilizations as he compressed it downward. The lights of a
universal death played across his face as a slow tear slipped own his
blue cheek.
“It’s so beautiful,” he whispered glaring
avariciously at the toy he had chosen to destroy.
The Hinterlands between
Universes…
Stars too close to the rip between universes find themselves drawn to
the brink of the void and slipping through out of reality. Some
explode instantly and some stabilize in the starless void in between
realities.
Parallax grappled with the Spectre. Their arms and hands wrapped
up holding each other in place as they forced staggered to and fro.
Green energy washed from Parallax’s eyes blasting the
Spectre’s face. Emerald fire enveloped the Spirit of
Vengeance’s head. Parallax held him tightly keeping his
head stable as he poured energy into his attack.
Wresting one arm free, the Spectre closed his fist and struck. KA-BOOM! The blow would have
shattered a continent. Parallax reeled, flying backward from the
Spectre.
Parallax floated insensate for a bare moment. Hal Jordan shook
his head, clearing the cobwebs. He realized that Parallax had let
slip the reins and he was in control of his body and mind. He
looked about, saw the Spectre, and moved to help him. Only to
come face to face with the face behind the Spectre’s face…
Hal Jordan was chilled to the center of his soul. He was stunned
for a moment, but would remember what he saw that day for the rest of
his existence.
Taking advantage of the brief breather, the Spectre allowed his face to
reform drawing in ectoplasm and bits of reality to replace what the
Parallax beast had blasted into nothingness. Through the ripped
curtain between universes, the Spectre saw Krona reaching out toward
the heart of that universe. “No!!!!” He fell to his
knees. “I can’t stop him… I have failed you,
my Lord!” He
shook his head sadly. “All those souls… too many
souls.” His voice became weaker as his protestations went
on. Coincident with the lessening voice, the Spectre’s form
lightened and then, faded from view.
A moment later, Parallax disappeared as well.
Nearby…
“I guess it’s true,” Owlman said from his place where
he squatted on the shattered orb that had been the prison of the Crime
Syndicate of Amerika for so long. “We can’t go home
again.”
“That’s a… helluva thing to say,” Johnny Quick
retorted, leaning against a piece of the sphere, his body shaking in
withdrawal. “I had family… there.”
“Hah!” Superwoman snorted, looping her fist more tightly
into her Golden Lasso of Dominance. She jerked the glowing cord
and Quick staggered up against her as her other hand dropped to his
crotch. “You mean that little slut you had chained up in
your basement? What was her name? Francine? I’d
hardly call a sex slave family.”
“Tell that to Olson,” Ultraman said, his gaze fixed on the
ghostly apparition of Krona as the alien continued to devastate the
universe that had once been Earth 2. He saw stars winking out in
droves, some exploding in glorious light while others simply faded
away. With his Ultra Vision he saw planets reduced to rubble in
instants. With his Ultra Hearing he could hear the screams of
billions as they were snuffed of life. A frown formed on his
lips, though whether from sadness or opportunity lost he could not say.
“Well,” Power Ring said turning towards the others, oddly
sickened by the destruction and the loss of his home, “I guess we
better get started and find the League before Krona
finishes.” All eyes turned towards him then and Jon Stuart
felt uncomfortable under the collective gaze of his teammates.
“What are you? Stupid?” Owlman asked as he stood and
turned to look towards the dimension of Earth 1.
“We’re not going to fight the League for that blue-skinned
freak.”
“Jeez… Jon…” Quick said, quivering as Lois
Lane’s hand caressed the tight spandex at his crotch.
“Even I… knew we were lying. An’ I… was
way out there… man.” Quick went up onto his toes
with a whimper as Superwoman squeezed, giving Power Ring a wicked grin.
“Idiot,” she purred. “When we meet the JLA
again, it’ll be on our terms. If we’re lucky maybe
S'amm’s counterparts will do the job for us.” Lane
kicked out, thumping their own resident White Martian in the thigh to
get his attention.
The Martian Mankiller looked up with bleary eyes, his body still
appearing soft and malleable after the psychic shock of so many minds
shrieking into his own. The initial assault had knocked him
unconscious, and he still held his head in agony, though the pain
lessened with distance as the White Martians of the Earth 1 dimension
spread across the globe looming before them.
“They’ve destroyed the Watchtower,” he moaned,
wincing and blinking hard as he tried to focus. “And
they’re assaulting the Batcave. Fighting all over the
Earth.”
“Good,” Ultraman said as he finally grew bored with Krona
and turned to face the others. He smirked. “It
appears to be a red letter day in the annals of the CSA. One of
the very few times that we’re all in agreement.” He
glared at the powerless Power Ring and Jon Stuart simply nodded.
“Then I suggest we get to Earth 1 and find some place to hole up
until we’re ready. Quick needs his drugs, and maybe if
you’re lucky, Jonny Boy we’ll find that little upstart that
stole your ring.”
“If not,” Superwoman added giving Quick a shove so that he
fell to her feet, gagging on the short leash of her Golden Lasso,
“I’m sure our new headquarters- wherever that may be- will
need a servant,” she chuckled. They all laughed except a
now nervous Jon Stuart.
I
know… where the boy… is…
The group tensed at the sound of a new, eerie voice echoing in the
environs of their shattered prison. Whatever spells and mechanics
the JLA had placed on the sphere still remained intact despite
it’s breaking, leaving a tenuous atmosphere so that all within
might survive. The JLA were not killers, after all.
“There,” Owlman said pointing to a rippling gray spot on
the floor, but it was Ultraman that squatted near to peer at the odd
blossoming plant that was sprouting from some infinitesimal bit of
organic debris.
His eyes glowed briefly, shifting through a kaleidoscope of rainbow
hues until a cruel smile finally formed on his face.
“Solomon Grundy,” he chuckled. “It must be
Monday.”
Slowly, as they all watched a shriveled and skeletal-like fetus shape
began to sprout and grow. Within moments they could all recognize
the ash white ugly features of one of their greatest foes; corrupter of
the innocent and leader of the Outsiders that had been a thorn in their
collective asses for so many months: Solomon Grundy.
I
know… where Power Ring is… the voice echoed as the
tiny malformed head writhed trying to speak. And…
Owlgirl…
“Where?” Owlman said as he knelt opposite Ultraman.
His hand popped something from his Utility Belt and suddenly a small
hand torch sparked to life. “Tell me where that
back-stabbing little bitch is or I’ll fry you on the spot.”
No…
the voice mewled, obviously in pain. Help me…
Promise… Then –
“Batcave,” the Martian Mankiller whined.
“Oops,” Ultraman said with a smirk. “There goes
your leverage.” There was a flash of heat and light, and
suddenly where the flourishing plant thing had been there was now a
smoldering dark scar on the globe’s floor. Ultraman stood
as Owlman smiled, returning his torch to his belt.
“You cannot imagine how satisfying that was,” Ultraman
mused as he rose from the shattered remains of their prison. He
soared up into the void, shivering a bit as he regained equilibrium in
the sudden lack of gravity and atmosphere. He arched back and
came up to the bowl, easing it along with his Ultra Strength and
flight. “Any suggestions?” he asked his voice
sounding distant, just at the edge of the oxygen bubble.
“When I was in the Batcave before, before I got shunted into our
prison,” Owlman said looking thoughtful. “I got a
good look at Batman’s files.” He produced a small
flash drive in one hand and a handheld computer in the other. He
connected the two. “Even managed to download a sizable
chunk before I got booted. I think the island of KooeyKooeyKooey
would be ironically sadistic.”
“Sounds tropically scrumptious,” Superwoman purred as she
shifted her booted foot under Johnny Quick’s face, admiring the
shine. “And I do so need to work on my tan.”
Even Kent laughed as he sped faster and faster towards the sanctuary of
Earth 1.
Earth-1:
The Moon…
Mary Marvel could not believe what she saw as she raced towards the
moon…
She remembered the endlessly repetitive scenes from Ground Zero years
before; the devastation played over and over, the endless wreckage and
carnage, not to mention the loss of life. This was little
different as she soared closer, weaving her way through debris that
spiraled out and away from the swelling moon that was her destination.
Her heart was pounding as she concentrated, fear making her shiver
where the icy void of space did not. She hoped first that Billy
had not been caught in the devastation that she just knew had to be the
JLA’s Watchtower exploding. Then she chastised herself,
hoping that no one had been caught in whatever had destroyed the
moon-based headquarters. She ignored the wreckage and debris, her
mind barely cataloging things that she passed that were not twisted
shrapnel; a key, a piece of queer armor, a jar. She had to
focus. They needed her.
Billy needed her.
Finally she swooped in low over the surface of the moon, feeling the
slightest effects of the satellite’s gravity and adjusting her
flight to compensate. She skimmed swiftly over the gray dust and
rock, aiming towards the billowing, dissipating cloud that marked the
spot where the Watchtower once proudly stood.
She pulled up and hovered over the sprawl of devastation.
Radioactive fire still rippled and sparked in the midst of the vast,
deep crater. All around for miles she could see debris where it
had fallen, spreading out in great arcs in every direction; twisted
metal and seared plastic that had apparently dropped back to the lunar
surface after the explosion. Too, there were things that she
could recognize; a table intact and imbedded in the ground but bleached
white and shining, a crystalline container that sparked and crackled
with energy coursing through it, a chair here, a suit of armor
there…
Swiftly Mary Marvel called upon the Flight of Zephyrus and began a
methodical search, criss-crossing the wide spew of debris, looking for
signs of life. She knew that the League was made up of the best,
and if there was any possible way, they would survive. With the
Wisdom of Minerva she realized that the pattern of destruction meant
that something had crashed into the Watchtower. What, she had no
idea, as she thought that with the technology of so many alien races
that they would have countless warning systems and defenses against
such a calamity.
She pulled up with a start as she almost plowed into the unconscious,
scorched form of Superman drifting on the edge of the moon’s
gravitational pull. She stared wide-eyed at the Man of Steel, his
body looking pale and scarred, bruised. There were red stains at
his ears and nose, and his familiar blue costume was etched with char,
his red cape blackened and burned almost to the collar. She
drifted closer, placing a hand to his chest.
Don’t be dead…
Don’t be dead, she thought as she tried to sense a
heartbeat, feel a breath. Something pulsed under her fingertips
at last, though whether a heartbeat or a death spasm she did not
know. She had to get him back to Earth.
Mary Marvel grabbed his cape, hoping it was as indestructible as she
had heard, gripping her fist into the collar and called upon Zephyrus
again. Even as swiftness and flight coursed through her being she
saw the man with the wings slowly spiraling in space not so far
away. She sped towards him, the Superman in tow…
She had no idea who the other was- not Hawkman by the look- but she did
not care. He needed help and they both needed to get back to
Earth, and its relative safety. She gave a final scan of the
devastation as she pulled away from the moon, hoping that there were no
other survivors that she had missed, her thoughts a jumble with emotion
as she wondered what best to do next.
Gotham… Minerva
whispered. The Batcave…
Of course, Mary thought as she gripped the two unconscious
heroes. The Batman can help. He’ll know what to do.
And in a flash of scarlet and gold, Mary Marvel streaked back towards
the Earth…
Earth-1:
Chicago…
Ted Kord stared in awe as a massive wave continued to build and rise
far out in the depths of Lake Michigan. The earthquake in Canada
had been devastating, almost leveling the entire coast of
Ontario. Miles of shoreline along Lake Superior and the Georgian
Bay had simply crumbled into the Great Lakes. Thousands had died,
and shortly thousands more would, if not millions as the tsunami rolled
closer gaining speed and intensity.
The second Blue Beetle ignored the warning lights that were flashing
all over the control panel as he pushed The Beetle to its limits and a
little bit beyond. Behind him he could hear the panicked
whimpering of the few souls that he had plucked from the encroaching
catastrophe as he feverishly worked the controls of his ship, fighting
the rush of air that proceeded the tidal wave that would decimate
Chicago.
“Ted!” the radio squawked. “Get out!
There’s nothing you can do!”
Ted Kord heard the almost panic in his best friend’s voice and
scanned the storm-tossed skies for a glimpse of his best friend.
Finally he spotted Booster Gold hovering over the lake at the edge of
the shore, an all-too familiar golden blip flitting about him. He
knew that Booster was stretching his Thirty-first technology force
field to its limits, expanding the invention of Brainiac-5 to its
utmost capacity in hopes of lessening the impact of the approaching
wave.
“What?” Blue Beetle said as he pulled back on the throttle,
stabilizing The Bug as another gust of air rocked the craft.
“You think I’m gonna run out and let you save the
day? Get all the glory? Think again, brother!”
I would suggest that you retreat,
Master Kord, Ted heard Skeets’ robotic voice crackle over
the radio. Your archaic craft
was not constructed to withstand the fury of a tsunami.
“Well, you need to recheck your records then, Skeets. This
baby was built with good old American know how.”
Kord’s fingers flitted over the control panel as a wave of air
tried to rock his ship. “We’ve survived worse, the
Bug and I. We’ll suffer this.”
Ted Kord eased back on the controls as the wave crested and started to
fall. He licked his lips as he saw the water splay and start to
spew sideways coming in contact with Booster’s force field.
His heart was pounding as he eased the craft back, trying to stay ahead
of calamity.
“We’re too late…”
Ted Kord glanced back over his shoulder at the billowing apparition of
Spirit as she hovered behind him. The ghostly image of the little
blonde girl was staring wide-eyed at the sky and he returned his
attention forward, following her gaze.
“Awe, fuck… We need this now?”
Ted watched as two White Martians streaked down out of the gray,
roiling sky. One pulled up and a moment later Skeets exploded in
a flurry of twisted metal, a victim of the Martian’s Presser
Vision. The other came up on Booster Gold, his hands gripping at
the invisible shell of his friend’s force field. Kord
checked his friend’s power feed and saw the force field shift to
encompass him.
“Ted!” Booster shouted. Ted Kord pounded his fist
against the control panel.
“I’ve got this,” Secret said as her ghostly form
sifted through the walls of The Bug. Moments later Ted saw her
materialize, clouds encircling the White Martian that was accosting
Booster. The Martian screamed, clutching at his head, then fell
away dropping towards the lake far below. The cloud that was
Secret started to flow towards the other alien…
“Go, Booster!” Ted shouted and saw on his monitors as
Booster Gold’s power spiked. A wave of energy and force
washed outwards and the cresting wave seemed to hesitate for a
moment. Ted Kord heard a scream over the external radio and saw
another gray form spiraling down towards Lake Michigan.
WHUMP!
The Bug rocked as a wave of force roiled over the craft. Ted
maniacally worked the controls, straining to keep the ship upright as
pressure whelmed about him. Sweat drooled from his mask and his
muscles strained, his hands aching as he gripped the throttles.
He could hear the cries of terror from his rescued passengers as The
Bug lurched in the pressure wave.
But then the winds died, and the ship stabilized…
Ted Kord fought the controls and flicked switches trying to stabilize
the craft as he watched the huge tidal wave break against Booster
Gold’s expanded force field, smashing and sinking back into the
lake. Behind him an ephemeral cloud billowed and reformed.
“We did it!” Booster shouted as the sky lit with a flash of
lightning. “We did it…” he repeated, his voice
heavy. They had lost Skeets. And the White Martians?
What was up with that? Like they needed another challenge…
But Chicago was saved. That was the important thing.
Beetle!
Ted stared at the radio and immediately moved to adjust the gain, the
volume, the feed. It was Oracle!
…te Martians! Be
prepa –
And the radio went dead.
“Oy…”
“This can’t be good,” Secret said in the background,
her ghostly form billowing.
Ted had to agree…
Earth-1:
Coast City…
Hal Jordan in control of his own body… for the moment
anyway… flew over Coast City… scarred, bruised, beaten,
but unbowed Coast City. His city. The city that he gave up
so much for and risked everything that ever mattered to him for.
He slowed as familiar streets spread below him.
Flying lower, he altered his armored Parallax armor into his classic
green and black Lantern uniform.
…A moment later, Hal Jordan sat on an Adams Park bench
crying.
He had landed at the Five Corners where Finger, Nodell, Broome,
O’Neil, and Kane crossed, hoping to see a familiar face or two.
When the first person turned to him, his blood ran cold. The
people didn’t have faces. They were the Faceless, zombie
folk of the Necropolis.
Krona had lied. Krona had used him. And deep in his soul,
he could hear and feel Parallax laughing at him.
Jordan forced himself to his feet, his moment of weakness over.
“Laugh all you want, you yellow demon,” he said.
“I’m back in the cockpit right now. And I intend to
make the most of it.”
Green energy surrounded him as he rose and shot skyward.
Earth-1:
Paris, France…
Diana of Themyscira ground her teeth, muscles straining as her fingers
dug into the warm iron girder. Sweat glistened on her creamy,
smooth skin, matting her raven black hair and running in rivulets down
her back and face. She could feel the heat rising from far below,
the winged sandals of Hermes beating madly to enhance her flight,
trying to keep her aloft. Again she felt the Tower tremble
beneath her fingers as the earth shook and cracked.
“I… will… NOT…
fail!” Diana groaned as she heaved against the crumbling Eiffel
Tower with all the strength she could muster. She tried to ignore
the screams of the populace, hoping that the others were helping the
panicking citizens of Paris as she struggled to keep their symbol of
hope and peace from collapsing to the ground. She knew all too
well that the people would need their monument to stand and rally
around after the days of calamity that had stricken the famed City of
Lights. Already the Arch de Triumph had crumbled with the first
wave of earthquakes that had rocked the city, and the Moulin Rouge was
a smoldering pile of rubble.
How many lay dead, buried in the streets? How many homeless in
the devastation? And not just in Paris, but the world
entire…
“NO MORE!” Wonder Woman screamed as she felt the Tower
shift in her grip, spinning ever so slightly and tilting as it ripped
from its foundations 180 degrees. Diana grunted with the effort
to hold the monument upright, to not let it crumple and fold with her
efforts, until finally the structured legs found purchase and settled
away from the fissure boiling with molten lava that had opened at its
base.
With a moan of exhaustion Diana sagged against the warm metal,
breathing heavily and trying to regain her strength. Dimly she
could hear cheers and applause but ignored them as she had the screams,
enjoying a moment’s respite. There was still so much to do,
and beyond that, the League needed her.
She had seen the flash of light that had appeared on the moon and knew
exactly what it must be. Something had happened at the Watchtower
and the nuclear core had erupted. She wondered who had been there
and how many had died. There was no way of knowing either, as her
JLA signal device had gone dead at that instant and communications with
Oracle a moment later.
Diana sighed, finally pushing off of the Tower and turning gracefully
in flight. She looked out over the devastation of Paris, far
worse than the great fire and anything that the Nazis had done.
It looked more like London after the Blitz with whole blocks of
buildings shattered and fires raging. Smoke billowed into the sky
in gouts and columns and ash rained down continually. How many
more would die simply from exposure. And how many times did the
same scene replay around the world? Yes, the League needed her,
but the people needed her more.
Diana floated down towards the woman dressed in lavender and scarlet,
waving her arms to be seen. Fleur-de-Lis had been a member of the
Global Guardians for a time; France’s resident member, until the
team had been disbanded by the United Nations. Now working for
France’s Department Gamma, she looked as harried and filthy as
Diana felt, her uniform ripped and stained with soot, her silver hair
dull with ash.
“Good work, Princess,” Noelle said in her native French, a
forced smile curling her lips. As Fleur-de-Lis, Noelle Avril was
a hero in her own right, though little more than an Olympic level human
with no Meta as far as she knew. An expert marksman as well,
though that talent was basically useless in the face of catastrophe.
Diana smiled as she touched earth feeling the weight of gravity bear
down on her shoulders again. “No longer a princess,”
she responded in French for the umpteenth time she was certain.
“Not a queen any longer for that matter.” She had
stepped down as ruler of Themyscira months ago when she had asked the
Goddesses of Ancient Greece to remove her island homeland from
Earth. And at the request of the United States government she had
removed herself to Europe, finally settling in France. * She had only recently
met Noelle when chance had brought them together during the current
crisis, along with one other.
* See recent issues of Wonder
Woman for the full story of Diana’s exile and the fate of
Themyscira.
“Where’s Chrysalis?” Diana asked wiping sweat from
her face and running her hands back through her hair. She frowned
at the dirt streaking her palms.
“I don’t know at the moment,” Noelle answered
gesturing at the plaza around them, “but she’s been
here.”
Wonder Woman scanned the area and saw the mass of webbing that spread
throughout the adjoining streets and buildings. Thankful that she
had never been on the receiving end of that Global Guardian’s
entangle, she knew that the web strands were strong to the point of
nigh unbreakable. Strong enough apparently to support many of
Paris’ buildings that appeared otherwise on the verge of
collapse. Not lasting measures to be sure, but long enough to
allow the people to find safer ground.
Diana did not know much about the strange, robotic creature called
Chrysalis; nothing beyond what she had read in the League’s files
provided mainly by Oracle. She had been created not unlike the
Red Tornado originally by an allegedly ‘mad scientist’ with
designs on mass murder. The robotic shell was somehow infested
with an insect-like swarm, which had sentience in the form of a hive
mind. The creature had a wide array of insect powers, though
multiplied on a grand scale. Her creator had managed to
infiltrate her into the Global Guardians, but he had died of a heart
attack soon after, and apparently his agenda died with him as Chrysalis
seemed to be fighting for good with the current team of
Guardians. At least the mute robot had been a huge help during
the current crisis.
“Wonder if her webbing would be any use in closing that
fissure?” Noelle added gesturing at the seething crack in the
plaza. It was not huge, but it had burst open at the base of the
Eiffel Tower, threatening to topple Paris’ most prized monument,
if not engulf it. The Tower was out of danger for the moment,
thanks to Wonder Woman, so long as the gap did not grow or
spread. Diana shrugged.
“Perhaps we’ll try,” Diana countered, “when she
returns. There’s just so much – Ahhh!”
THERE! There!
I see!
Yessss…
Diana screamed, staggered and dropping to a knee at the sudden,
unexpected psychic assault. Voices shrieked jubilantly in her
head, loud and pounding, piercing her mental defenses honed by
J’onn J’onzz…
“No…” Diana gasped looking skyward through
tear-filled eyes. She saw them streaking from the ash-laden sky,
barely visible as their pale skin seemed to blend with the
background. Three White Martians…
“Diana? What…”
Wonder Woman felt Fleur-de-Lis’ hand on her shoulder, and saw
that the mental spike had shaken the other woman as well. Diana
struggled to rise, pointing skyward as two of the Martian’s
Presser Beams slammed them both to the ground. The third White
Martian veered off as his comrades swooped towards Wonder Woman and
Fleur-de-Lis, the alien crashing into the Eiffel Tower with enough
force to send the unanchored structure toppling to the ground with a
huge crash. All of Diana’s work to save the monument
destroyed in seconds.
Rage burned in Diana’s breast. She had no idea how or why
the White Martians had suddenly returned. The last she had heard
they were being used as dupes on Earth 2 by the Wizard in his twisted
games. She did not care. The world was on the brink of
destruction. They did not need the addition of deranged, would-be
alien conquerors added to the crisis. No matter they were three,
each as powerful as the Martian Manhunter, and herself by
comparison. No matter they were ruthless and evil at heart
seeking vengeance no doubt after all the degradations they had
endured. Better than they deserved for their cold-hearted goals
and actions. Anger boiled and adrenaline surged through her blood
as the Martians drew closer, joined by the third and all three
hunkering and quivering with excitement, long spiked tails lashing.
“You die now, human sow,” one hissed and the others
chuckled, their forms already wavering as they began to morph.
Diana saw Noelle tip to her feet, gun in hand and extended even as she
floated up into the air, righting herself.
In a graceful flurry of motion her Golden Lasso unfurled in her left
hand even as her tiara spiraled away, a silver flash and blur.
There was a sickening THUCK as the diadem imbedded into the temple of
the closest Martian, followed by a moment’s silence as the
alien’s eyes went wide with disbelief. Dull verdant ichor
oozed from the wound before the creature collapsed in a pale heap on
the scorched ground. The two remaining Martians glanced in horror
at their fallen comrade before turning back to face the enraged former
Queen of Themyscira.
“Bring it!” Diana
snarled as Fleur-de-Lis started shooting…
Earth-1:
Manhattan, NY…
Richard Clark stared at the fire raging through his building with tears
in his eyes.
He had lived in the Dakota on Central Park West ever since he had
retired from the limelight of both the stage and the world of
heroics. He had survived the Korean War, the subsequent Cold War,
Viet Nam, recessions, black outs and innumerable crises brought on by
man as well as the Meta world. He had survived three wives and
two children, as well as his manservant, Sikhi. He had seen John
Lennon shot right before his eyes and had never shed a tear, but
now…
Now his memories were burning away even as one of New York’s
proudest buildings- his home- crumbled in inferno. Richard Clark
stared dully as the flames leaped higher, feeling the firm hand on his
shoulder gripping hard in stress and comfort. He snuffed, raising
his own hand to touch Yoko’s.
“It’ll be all right,” he choked, giving the slim hand
a squeeze and he heard the woman sob. He knew that her own
memories were literally going up in smoke as well.
Clark shifted in the seat of his wheel chair feeling the ghost pains of
muscles in his legs that had stopped working a decade ago. At
well over eighty years he was little more than a shell of the man he
had once been. A hero and detective; the ‘Magician
Detective’, he had been the scourge of Manhattan’s
underworld in the Fifties and Sixties after the JSA had gone to ground
and before the so-called Silver Age of heroes had begun. Mysto
had been his stage name and his hero name, and for many years he had
been one of the world’s greatest detectives, long before the
likes of The Batman and the Elongated Man. Then of course came
the Superman and the world was swept away. Now memories of Mysto
were relegated to the likes of Detective Chimp and B’wana Beast;
not only a has-been, but a joke compared to the world’s latest
wave of heroes.
And now even that was fading away in conflagration…
But suddenly there was a blast of wind and the fire seemed to rage in
intensity, flaring higher. He felt Yoko’s fingers dig into
his shoulder as a young, golden-haired woman stepped forward, her arms
raised towards the burning building. Her fingers clawed at the
empty air and the flames seemed to swirl and dance as though she was
manipulating the inferno. Clark stared in awe as the fire seemed
to swirl into a fountain that arched skyward then plummeted to ground,
splashing in a tidal wave over the woman, dwindling in intensity until
the flames at last disappeared.
Clark wheeled forward towards the woman even as she fell to her
knees. Her clothes had burned away and her body still smoldered
and rippled with licks of flame dancing across her fair skin. She
was breathing hard as others stepped closer, neighbors and
rubber-neckers come to watch the Dakota burn. Smoke still roiled
from the old building, but it stood, saved.
There was a babble of voices as Richard Clark shoved through the
adoring crowd. Thank you’s and exclamations of praise that
the young woman seemed to ignore as she heaved for breath, the fires on
her skin dwindling. “Are you all right?” Clark asked
as he wheeled beside her, placing a hand on her still hot
shoulder. She looked up and after a moment nodded.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“They’ll call me Inferno one day,” she said with a
lop-sided grin. “You can call me Sandy though. I live
in 4E.”
Something slammed down on them all from above; a force of energy that
drove everyone to the ground. Clark felt his wheelchair rend
under the pressure even as he heard Yoko’s scream. He
slammed hard to the pavement, looking up as he rolled over and saw some
hideous monstrosity hovering over the scene. It was a dull white
and ugly as sin with a whipping tail and mottled, spiked skin, hissing
through a fang-filled maw with a slithering, darting tongue.
Clark shivered in revulsion as his mind tried to suppress age-old
horrors and inborn phobia ingrained on his psyche.
The creature started to descend, its slitted eyes focusing on the woman
now sprawled on the ground beside him. He saw its body morphing,
the tail shifting into a deadly spike, its limbs ragged and jutting
like blades, murder crackling in golden glowing eyes. Clark
squirmed cursing his useless legs even as he reached into the inner
breast pocket of his jacket. Old habits die-hard even if the body
is weak.
He cast his pellets, hoping beyond hope that the years had not made
them impotent. He was rewarded with a gush of smoke that roiled
skyward to envelope the creature. He heard a confused hiss as the
thing paused, hopefully, momentarily blinded.
A gout of flame soared skyward then, a fire fountain that erupted from
the woman to envelope the creature. Clark heard a shriek of agony
followed swiftly by a dry thump as the charred remains of the
monstrosity hit the pavement just a foot from where he lay. He
watched as the body convulsed, the flames eating away, burning through
until it finally ceased moving. His heart was hammering in his
chest as he turned back to the woman.
Inferno… Sandy lay at his side, her naked breasts heaving as she
stared past him at the smoldering lump that had been the
creature. Her eyes glazed for a moment, then shifted and locked
on his own. She smiled…
“Thanks,” she said weakly, then promptly passed out.
Richard Clark- Mysto the Magician Detective smiled in return even as
Yoko knelt beside him, weeping…
Earth-2:
The Void…
Krona wept…
Tears streamed down his azure skin as another star rolled between his
hands. He pressed his palms together and light exploded,
streaming in a blaze of glory that soon flickered and dimmed. All
about him the universe that was Earth 2 raced towards his
conclusion. Planets dissolved and stars flared, nebulae swirled
and dissipated as the ‘Big Crunch’ raced to fruition, eons
before its appointed time.
He could see the darkness beyond, the black of the encroaching void
that he had witnessed so many times from afar. Beyond that the
Chaos that had been before, HIS efforts to create now rising to the
front again. Soon HE would have to take a hand and at last
Krona’s search would come to an end. At last he would know.
Krona made a fist that encompassed a galaxy and billions of stars
simply ceased to exist.
With a wave of his hand, pinpricks of light vanished and trillions of
souls were spent, extinguished in a heartbeat.
And the void loomed…
“Why?”
Krona glanced to the side, to the source of the choked voice, startled
at the intrusion. He stared at the diminutive figure that hovered
near his face, a hollowed and decrepit form, a mote in his god-like
eye. He vaguely recognized the green and white robes of the
herald of doom. He was once a man like himself, a being that
sought the elusive answer to life, the universe and everything.
Unlike Krona however, this man had been cursed to see dimensions fall
for eternity.
“Pariah,” Krona said as his hand crushed a world one
hundred times larger than Jupiter.
“Why are you doing this?” Pariah whined, tears streaming
down his agony-twisted face. His eyes were lost in shadow, sunken
hollows that stretched to infinity with the horrors that he had
seen. His body trembled as the Earth 2 universe dwindled and
faded away in destruction.
“I must know the truth,” Krona whispered, his voice booming
across the void. “I must see.”
“There’s nothing,” Pariah shouted, his body wracked
with pain as stars flared and winked away at Krona’s slightest
gesture. “It’s a joke, don’t you see? A
never-ending cycle that endlessly repeats, striving for perfection that
will never be achieved. God is fickle and bored.
She’s playing with all of us.”
Krona stared at Pariah even as the tiny speck of a man wavered and
started to fade. His high-pitched screams filled the void as
Krona turned back to his task. He was far too close to stop now
on the word of a failed deviant. He must know…
Arrrggghhh!
Krona grimaced as green flame erupted about him. He knew
immediately what had happened, feeling the old familiar warmth of OA
laced with the sickly corruption of the Parallax entity. He
turned and was not surprised to find Hal Jordan hovering before him,
apparently in control of his inner demons for the moment.
“This ends here, Krona,” Jordan shouted, rage twisting his
voice. Krona sensed no fear in the man, but knew that the last
Green Lantern, even harnessing the Parallax power and the energies of
the Corp entire was not a threat. Krona afforded a brief smile
before turning away. The little human was apparently annoyed that
he had been so used.
“Go find someplace to await the end in peace, Jordan.
I’ll allow you that dignity. Embrace the specters of the
past that you seem to cherish so much.” Krona smirked as
another galaxy dissolved in his grip.
Green fire erupted about him then and Krona screamed. Seething as
the verdant flames licked at his skin he turned to face the glowing
green speck that dared disturb his glory. Hal Jordan glowed as he
blazed forward, a spark of brilliance in the encroaching black, a
beacon of hope that would soon be quenched…
To be
Continued...
NEXT
ISSUE: Blackest Night
concludes!
Story
© Mark Anderson and Curt Fernlund 2010
