"It is estimated that 15% of the Earth's humans are metagene carriers, but only a fraction of these have active superpowers, just over 2 million individuals. Over 99% of these individuals barely rank on the Superhuman Ability Index, and can only bend spoons or glow in the dark. Half of a percent are Gamma to Alpha on the index and are considered to have significant powers, over 100,000 individuals, more when considering other superhuman variants who are commonly lumped in with metahumans. But regardless, only a fraction of a percent of the world's total population have any kind of superpower. And yet almost 40% of the world's governments are controlled by superpowered beings. The population of those ranked Gamma and above on the SAI will triple within a generation or two. And the average superhuman has every evolutionary advantage over the average person, with greater intelligence, athleticism, and health. Most appreciate the heroes of the Justice League and their humanitarian and philanthropic acts, but more and more people are scared that metahumans and those like them will replace non-supers. And they're not wrong. History has vindicated the fearful Neanderthal." - Professor Emil Hamilton, retired STAR Labs Director, interview with James Olson
January 2st, 2052 | 12:15am | Government House of Thailand
There was an explosion of frost as Origami's rounds hit home, the woman's head bursting in a blast that flash-froze several nearby aides and security guards. The betrayal caught her one-time compatriots by surprise and when some of the exo-soldiers turned their guns to bear on the double agent, Gunsmith's railgun launched a shot right in their midst, blowing them apart and across the room. His team advanced forward, efficiently dealing with the exo-soldiers and allowing Origami to mop up the stragglers. One of Gunsmith's teammates gurgled wetly as a sword materialized through his neck from an assassin who came into view. They disappeared out of view once more, jumping for Gunsmith himself, only to be gunned down by the astute mercenary. Cheshire's team of shadow killers traded blows with their former allies, defending themselves as the General's bodyguards slashed and stabbed at them invisibly. Cheshire herself saw right through their technology, her mask's visor cutting through the cloaking fields. One assassin found this out too late as he jumped at Cheshire only to be impaled by her blades. Her smiling cat mask, stained with his blood, was the last thing he saw. The rest of his team didn't last much longer.
Argonaut slammed the strongman into the ceiling of the bunker, jarring him. The meta headbutted Argonaut's helmet, but he cried out as he painfully bounced off of Argonaut's shield. Argonaut didn't know how tough the man was, so he didn't waste time by trying to blast his undoubtedly durable torso. Instead Argonaut shoved his gauntlet into the meta's open mouth, cracking his teeth. The man shouted in alarm, muffled by the gauntlet, before Argonaut fired up his solar projector in the man's mouth. The muffled screams were ragged and desperate, the meta's eyes bulging out inhumanly until they ran down from his face like candlewax. Argonaut watched intently until the screams died. He released the corpse, its blackened mouth gaping, where it fell to the floor and crushed a cowering woman beneath its bulk, like a boot crushing a bug. Now to crush the General.
Vortex's sudden appearance caught the General off guard, his own guards also momentarily startled. When the Legionary unleashed his barrage, one of them was too slow to move and withered away under the assault. Her compatriot was quicker however and rolled out of the way of the projectiles in time. She cloaked and jumped at Vortex, managing to slash one of his guns. She stabbed at his chest, trying for his heart. Jammed it in his armor instead. That sealed her fate. She died, but then several of the remaining exo-soldiers came to the General's aid. Chainguns whirled and flamethrowers roared, one soldier launching round after round from his grenade launcher. The General took this distraction to run away, frantically pulling out a pistol and firing it behind him as he desperately tried to distance himself.
Argonaut watched the spectacle, debating the merits of waiting to see if the Thai soldiers would kill Vortex. He dismissed it after a few seconds. Vortex was certainly hurt but would likely kill the guards and claim the bonus. No, better to disappoint him. And he didn't need a death on his post-mission review. Argonaut keyed his radio,
"Clean up for us." No more than a few seconds after that, a blue haze streaked into the room, electricity sparking. One moment, several guards were fighting Vortex. The next, the sound of bullets were replaced by screams and exo-suited men turned into so much viscera and debris. Some had snapped necks. Others had holes where vital organs had been. Some had their bones broken until they were unrecognizable as people. The soldier with the grenade launcher had his weapon blow up in his hands, shrapnel coating his face while his arms ended as stumps past the elbow. Flamethrower packs had detonated, their bearers frantically running around in panic while aflame if they hadn't already been burnt to a crisp.
Speed Demon appeared, absolutely drenched in blood and gore. He looked at Vortex,
"Out of the way tin man." The General tried to reload his pistol. He barely got to eject the magazine when Speed Demon was on him. The pistol fell apart in the man's hands, Speed Demon dismantling it in a second. The General gaped up at Speed Demon, begging him not to kill him. The Legionary held up his fingers against his temple, cocked an imaginary pistol. Speed Demon's mask grinned hellishly at the General as he said,
"Sorry. I've got my eye on a Buggati." Speed Demon's fingers vibrated, phased through the General's head, into his brain. Re-materialized for a brief second. He pulled his bloody hand from the General's lifeless carcass, a blank expression etched on the dead man's face, before Speed Demon let him fall and blew on his fingers as if clearing away gun smoke. He looked at Vortex again,
"Better luck next time." He turned back to the corpse, vibrated his hand once more. Speed Demon vanished, the General's head with him.
Lexos' voice filtered over Argonaut's suit comms,
"Argonaut. Communications indicate that Angela Mannheim succeeded in her mission. She was unharmed, her followers sustained light casualties, and they took over the refining operation. Our sources report she threatened China White. So is Sin Tzu." "She lived? A shame. Oh well. We'll deal with it later. No need to trouble ourselves with the affairs of pirate queens and drug kingpins when we have a coup to celebrate. Inform father, he'll tell the Council." The fight had ended as soon as the General died, what remained of his followers dropping their weapons and holding up their arms in defeat. Argonaut surveyed the broken survivors,
"Let them go. Let them tell people what happens when they come up against the Legion. Go, before I change my mind." The survivors scattered and Argonaut said,
"Good job team. Sin Tzu should be receiving the General's head shortly. Not bad for a day's work. Your fees will show up in your accounts shortly. Report to the transports. We'll rendezvous with the other teams and report back to the Fortress. Our work here is done." Thailand's boy king would be surrendering to his uncle Sin Tzu now. The upstart would be throwing the General's head at his feet. He would order to boy taken into custody. Would sit on the throne himself. His banners would be flying over the palace, over Parliament, over what remained of Bangkok shortly. Soon almost all of the country would follow. He would soon address the world and declare his new monarchy. Within a few months, he would pledge his allegiance to the Shiruta Pact. But Argonaut wouldn't remain there to witness any of that. He had other things to attend to. People to kill. Societies to topple. And he needed to speak to his father. He was sure, Lex Luthor would be pleased.
Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico
January 1st, 2052 | 6:00pm | Miralco Lab
The civilians, helped along by Toxin and Vigilante and covered by Therma and Green Arrow, crowded out of the blazing room as the mechs tried to stop them from leaving. Unconscious newly-turned metas, wounded, and children were held by their family members. The Peacekeepers escorted the captured enemy soldiers and lab workers by gunpoint. Green Lantern shielded the crowd from bullets as they hurried along the corridors. Sprinklers had been activated by the fires, drenching the survivors as they came to the elevator shaft. Green Lantern bared his ring and a lift of green energy materialized in the vent. The red alien was a fearsome visage to many of the civilians, his appearance making him seem like a demon to the devout Catholics. But Vigilante urged them on and Green Lantern ferried the first tightly packed group up to the surface.
He shot out of the elevator shaft, his construct trailing beneath him, into a firefight. The shack was in shambles, the Peacekeepers trading fire with what remained of the Federal police. They had detonated the dormant mines, blowing up several vehicles while Velocity took down the majority of their ground troops. Green Lantern brought up the lift, then shot a green burst of energy into the air, an artificial flare. Within moments, the Javelin arrived, firing its laser turrets while a door popped open on the side. Out leaned the tattooed figure of El Diablo, pumping his fist and sending lances of fire at the remaining targets. Within moments, the reinforcements were disabled or eliminated and the evacuation continued unimpeded.
Down beneath in the lab, Green Arrow fired his arrows at the mechs, covering Therma as she cut a swath through them. Not that she really needed it. The super-charged meta was too much for the mindless drones to handle, and most of them were destroyed before they could really do anything about it. Within about a minute, they were all wiped out by the two heroes. Most of Therma's reserves were burned up in the fight. Green Arrow whistled, twirling an arrow in hand as he surveyed the damage,
"Impressive. Though, the bigwigs aren't going to be too hot about the collateral barbecue." Suddenly a klaxon started blaring,
"Facility cleanse countdown initiated. Cleanse commencement T-minus 90 seconds." Evidently all the chaos triggered some kind of automatic failsafe the Legion had installed to destroy the evidence. Green Arrow said,
"Concerns for another time. Let's book it." All of the computer terminals had been damaged in the fight, but some samples of the meta-drugs remained along with some holo-tablets. Green Arrow collected what vials and devices he could and the two heroes ran down the corridor as the timer counted down.
In the escape tunnel Perseus dodged out of the way of Blockbuster's charging form, though that proved redundant when Nova slammed into the villain like a missile. As tough as Blockbuster was, he felt the hit keenly. The breath was driven out of him, and his superhuman ribs had been cracked. He was dazed, hurt, and confused. Perseus nodded at Nova thankfully, using the distraction to retrieve his shield and spear. Perseus picked up the spear and twirled it around, the taser attachment sparking at maximum voltage. Blockbuster struggled to recover, trying to rise from the space he made in the tunnel wall. Perseus said,
"Goodnight doctor." With that, he thrust the butt end of the spear forward right at Blockbuster's temple, making the mutated strongman cry out, his hair standing on end. Blockbuster fell unconscious, his body gradually reverting to its original form, his blue skin lightening.
Perseus turned to Nova, to thank her properly when the klaxon reached them in the tunnel. Instead Perseus said,
"Grab hold of Desmond. I'll get on your back, get us out of here Nova." He raised the rest of the team on the radio, as he climbed on Nova,
"Team, target is secure. All points evac immediately. Get as far away from the lab as possible and brace. Perseus Out. After a few harrowing moments, Nova's reactors were fully charged and she rocketed down the tunnel, Perseus holding on with a white-knuckle grip as the clock approached zero. Green Arrow and Therma reached the lift with the last of the evacuees, Green Lantern pulling them up swiftly. The civilians, prisoners, and Justice League cleared the shack putting as much distance between them and the lab as they could. In the nearby hills, Nova and her passengers burst of the secret tunnel just as the countdown ended. There was a great thundering roar and the lab fell in on itself, the ground around the shack sinking inward as the lab was buried under so much dirt and rock, the team looking on.
Several moments later, Nova appeared near the rest of the team with the captive Blockbuster in her arms and Perseus hopping off of her back. Perseus took off his helmet, wiped away some sweat from his brow,
"It wasn't perfect, but we saved the civilians and stopped the Legion with minimal loss of life. You all did well, for the most part." Perseus cast a sideways glance at Therma.
"Regardless, mission was accomplished. We'll head back to the Watchtower for a debrief and to turn over the prisoners. The council needs to know what happened immediately." Already, other Javelins and boxy lifters were visibly closing in the distance, their own having called for reinforcements once Green Lantern's flare had been spotted. They would come with Peacekeepers to round up the rest of the prisoners and emergency personnel to attend to the civilians and evacuate them back to the Hall of Justice.
"We'll let them handle it from here. Let's get on the Javelin. Velocity, Nova, you'll come with us." Just then Perseus' commlink buzzed in his helmet. He replaced the helm and said,
"Perseus. Situation is contained. Blockbuster and Bloodsport in custody. Will require excavation and containment crews once the civilians are casevac'd and prisoners taken in." The Leaguer on Monitor duty, Mr. Terrific replied,
"Confirmed, Perseus. But I have some bad news." "Thailand has fallen?" Perseus had known the Legion to be ruthlessly efficient but the speed and totality of their operation still surprised him.
"Not only that but their Ambassador to the UN was killed. Along with most of his staff and security team." That was a shock. Wonder Woman had been on duty. She had never failed a protection mission. Immediately, he was concerned.
"And our team?" "Superficial injuries. A few Peackeepers are in the medbay. But... Deathstroke and Ravager were there. We're keeping the rest of the details close to chest for the moment. We'll brief you when the time comes." Mr. Terrific sounded troubled, and that didn't bode well at all.
Perseus frowned,
"Very well. There's something else isn't there?" Mr. Terrific sighed,
"Yeah. This one isn't confidential. We're gonna start calling everyone we can back to the Watchtower. The roster will be gathered within the week." It was rare for the whole roster to be called to the Watchtower outside of the scheduled meetings or some celebration. Whatever it was for, it wasn't pleasant. Perseus kept silent, letting his colleague continue, trying to brace himself for the worst.
"Wesley Dodds was murdered." He hadn't braced himself enough.
"We will return with more coverage as the story surrounding the Thailand coup develops and details emerge in the investigation in the death of Ambassador Demir, a case with no civilian witnesses and where no official has offered comment. Sources inform us that Demir's body remains in the JLU's custody. We will also provide more details soon on the latest chapter of the War on Drugs amid preliminary reports that members of the Federal Police fired on JLU agents during an operation, the latest in a series of scandals rocking the Mexican government as they battle the narco-terrorist cartels to little effect and struggle with systemic internal corruption. Lastly, Wesley Dodds, former member of US Army Special Forces and the first Sandman, has died. Dodds, 85 years old, was a noted philanthropist and surrealist artist whose heroics inspired cartoon and comic-book adventurers that charmed millions. The JLU has not released the cause of death and he is survived by an adopted son and numerous grandchildren and great-grandchildren. The only official comment has come from Alan Scott, retired hero and current Intendant of Astrapolis who expressed the sorrow of the entire superhero community at Dodds' death and his own personal hope that his longtime friend and comrade was in a better place." - CNN News Bulletin
Adirondack Park, New York
January 8th, 2052 | 12:00pm | Valhalla Cemetery
A week had passed since Thailand had been overrun by the Legion of Doom. Since the Justice League had discovered the Legion's meta-trafficking operation in Mexico. Since Sanderson Hawkins had discovered the body of the man he called his father. The death of one of the first costumed heroes, one of the community's premier figures, a man he had considered a mentor and friend, gnawed at Nick. He had known Wesley since he was a child. He had watched all the shows, read the comics and pulp novels. When Nick had joined the Titans, Wesley had helped guide him through his training. Forge him into the crime-fighter he was now. And now he was gone.
Too many friends and comrades had already passed, and the sudden absence of yet another fixture in his life left Nick shaken. He couldn't imagine how Sandy felt or Kieran, Sandy's son and the current Sandman. Nick remembered his own father's brush with cancer, the feeling of desperation and hopelessness, the dread of death hanging over head. Thankfully the League's advanced medicine saved him. No doubt, Wesley's family wished someone could have done the same. Sandy, Kieran, and the rest of their family had their grief written plain on their faces though some were more stoic than others. Kieran's young son Wes, a few years from starting in Titans Academy, wept openly.
The service itself was relatively small, a few hundred close family and friends, those who knew and fought alongside Wesley or his son and grandson. Still there were enough that the modest space was almost full to bursting. Wesley had a Catholic father and a Jewish mother, but while he had been spiritual he wasn't discerning about either and the memorial hall was purposefully simple and austere to serve for those of all faiths. Nick sat with Mary and the kids, the rest of their family including each of their parents, close by. All talk was a hushed murmuring as Jesse Quick played mournful songs upon the piano. Wesley had been known to all of them, had even fought alongside his parents on a few occasions. Vic Sage was a quiet man at the best of times but today he was particularly silent. And Nick's mother Helena, a fiery and vivacious woman, was solemn and forlorn. The loss was felt enormously to every person in the room. Wesley hadn't just been a friend, comrade, and mentor. He had been family to all of them. Nick still couldn't believe he was gone. Murdered.
He felt his sorrow tempered with an edge of rage at the thought. Looking around he saw it in many others, the firmness of Sandy's jaw, the clenching of Kieran's fists. And as Nick gazed at the flowers placed around the ceremonial coffin with Wesley's logo emblazoned upon it, at the portrait of a matured but handsome and smiling Wesley Dodds, he felt the ember of anger grow. He sat silently, holding Mary's hand while speakers came to the podium to deliver their eulogies. All of the surviving members of the JSA and other veteran heroes who knew Wesley best spoke. Alan Scott uttered a prayer, bade his friend be at peace. Jay Garrick told a lighthearted story, a sad smile upon his face. Joan Dale recited a poem. Ted Grant was on the verge of tears. Rex Tyler reminisced of old missions. Sandra Knight solemnly said goodbye. Many others came and went, though not as many as there would be in years past. These veterans who had gone to battle as little more than children had lived their lives together. Some died peacefully. Others didn't. All of them had memorials here in Valhalla Cemetery, the shrine to the memory of the world's first heroes.
More came to speak. Diana, whose mother had fought alongside both Wesley's grandfather and father in different conflicts. Clark, who had met with Wesley on many occasions and even interviewed him once. Bruce, who had sought out Wesley and the other members of the JSA to train under. When it was Sandy's turn, he talked of his time as Wesley's sidekick, how he had been orphaned and taken in as his son. How he hoped that Wesley was with his beloved Dian now. When Kieran came, he almost didn't finish his speech. As soon as he left the stage, he wept. By the end of the service, two hours of stories and speeches, there was hardly a dry eye in the hall. The time came to bear the ceremonial coffin to Wesley's monument.
Wesley's actual body was still being kept in cryogenics while the investigation was ongoing. Wesley had wished for his ashes to be scattered in space, to become stardust and join his beloved in the heavens. But he had still wanted a site alongside his oldest friends, his brothers and sisters in arms. Inside the coffin was instead Wesley's first costume, the iconic gas-mask and trench coat ensemble that was as much a part of his identity as anything else. But where there was no body, the coffin still hung heavily on the shoulders of the pallbearers. Sandy and Kieran took two positions. The other four were Alan Scott, Jay Garrick, Ted Grant, and Rex Tyler. The mourners followed behind as the pallbearers marched and bagpipers played a dirge. The sky was grey and shrouded by clouds, rain pattering the procession. Those who didn't wear suits or dresses had arrived in funerary versions of their costumes. Alan wore a black cape, Jay a black helmet. Instead of being comical, there was a regal dignity to the group as they marched forward. The coffin was draped by an American flag, as Wesley had been a veteran like most of his generation.
They passed the memorials and resting places of other old heroes. The first Commander Steel. The first Black Canary. The first and second Blue Beetle. Too many others. Valhalla Cemetery was a private resting place, hidden in one of North America's largest forests on a privately owned plot. An enchantment laid by Giovanni Zatara kept the trees shielding the cemetery fertile all year, the nearby lake blue and calm, even as the forest around them was shrouded in snow. A different enchantment kept Valhalla out of notice by passersby. In life, heroes had everything bared to the world. Here they could finally find some manner of privacy.
Nick took some small solace in that as they reached Wesley's memorial. It was a relatively simple, understated affair. A guardian angel looked down on Wesley and Dian's headstones. The pall-bearers removed their gloves. Placed them on the coffin.
Wesley's read,
"Beloved husband, father, grandfather, friend, hero. Child of Dreams, at rest."The military had designated an honor guard to perform the rifle salute. Among them was Jason Trevor, son of Diana. They performed their duty flawlessly, even as Nick thought he caught a tear in Jason's eye. Hal Jordan wrapped up the flag draping Wesley's coffin and handed it to Dian Hawkins, Sandy's daughter. Her tears were obvious, even mixed with the rain. Kent Nelson recited the final eulogy, the former Dr. Fate speaking somberly but strongly as his friend was lowered to the ground. Nick bowed his head in respect. They all did. Kept them there until the coffin was at rest. Many of the mourners held flowers, quite a few were mauve carnations symbols of dreams. They floated down to the coffin and they all said one last goodbye before turning back.
As Nick turned around, he saw his friend Kieran grasp a handful of dirt and pour it onto the coffin. Then he left without a word. As Kieran left, Nick caught a figure standing beyond the cemetery in the snow. A white wraith whose presence was ethereal and all to substantial. An emerald cloak flowed regardless of the breeze. The Spectre nodded at Nick.
Nick nodded back.
He understood.
The Watchtower, Astrapolis
January 8th, 2052 | 5:00pm | Bridge
Albert stood close to the massive view-port on the earthward side of the Watchtower. America's eastern seaboard was in view. He could see his home, the bright lights of the City of Tomorrow. He could see the forest where the Justice League had put their memorial to Wesley Dodds. He hadn't been there to see it himself. Lara had wanted him to go and Albert wished to attend. But he couldn't have withstood the stares, the sneers, the silences as he walked past. Albert had many friends but many others despised him. His name played a large part in that. Ever since the Legion attacked, half of his comrades expected him to betray them any day now. No, he mourned for Wesley alone. Albert wouldn't taint his funeral.
Indeed, the whole week was mostly devoid of reasons for him to smile. He had to dress down Therma, a woman he respected and trusted, for acting foolhardy in the field. He had to go to sleep with images of screaming innocents and horrific experiments. He had to cope with the violent loss of one of the only veteran heroes who had accepted him. He lived with the knowledge that his brother massacred a city. The footage had been horrifying. It reminded him of E-Day. His brother had caused that. Someone he had once loved. And Alex did it on their father's order. The thought made him furious. Albert had called his father New Year's Eve. Despite all that happened, Albert was courteous. His father had smiled at him. Smiled. Even when he knew what was going to happen next. Truly there was no end to his lies. His ruthlessness. But the world didn't know it. And there was a very real chance that the architect of so much suffering would soon become the leader of the Free World.
No, there was nothing to smile about at all. And they still hadn't told him what happened to Demir. He had tried talking to Lyta. To Mar'i. They had refused to speak of it. The secrecy galled him. The interrogations of Blockbuster and Bloodsport were ongoing. They had mental blocks in place that prevented telepathic examination. But the League knew the Legion was planning something big and suspected that the Legion of Doom was building an army. If that was the case, the League would have to shore up their own numbers. He had recommended Nova and Velocity for membership. They were rookies. But they had their hearts in the right place. They just needed training. They weren't yet full members, but for now they could accompany veteran Leaguers in missions. Likely, Command would stick them with him most of the time.
Though they weren't in his hair for the moment. They were allowed the run of the station. They were under constant surveillance at any rate, even after the extensive psychic, mystical, and mundane examination that had been done to make sure they weren't up to any trouble. He wondered where they were now. There was a flash of light and a burst of sound as yet another team arrived from Earth onto the teleporter pads. The League had been activating reservists, recalling Leaguers into active duty, moving retired or isolated allies onto the station or into secure areas. Ostensibly it was to discuss strategy and gather people for Wesley's memorial. The funeral had been private but a statue had been dedicated to him in the Hall of Heroes and there was a quiet reception going on now in banquet hall. No the truth was that it was for safety. Everyone's. Wesley's murder had spooked them all. Especially the state of the crime scene.
Meta Freak. Fascist. Killer. Those words spray-painted all over his apartment. Albert put it out of his head. That was a question for the Investigation Division. He had other concerns. Like the meeting that would start in just 30 minutes. The Council would finally brief him on what was going on. But he knew he wouldn't like the answers. He turned away from the window, went to find Lara. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't enjoy being alone very often. Especially not now. She had greeted him when she returned from the funeral, but she had been with the rest of her family. He hadn't had the chance to really be with her. But he knew where she was.
He knew the station by heart. The armory, where one could refit their equipment, manufacture new tools, and even test weapons on holographic or robotic targets. The commissary, which provided food from all corners of the globe and Mars around the clock. The massive gymnasium and its training rooms, where one could spar or challenge their body and powers in every conceivable manner. Where you could fight simulated battles or train in zero-g. There was the common area, which had numerous holographic video screens for movies, shows, and video games. There were simulation pods and rooms where you could place a call to anywhere in the world. The library which had public Extranet terminals and endless archives of books and music. That was only a fraction of the facilities that the Watchtower offered, and this without even considering the city's worth of shopping plazas, theatres, restaurants, museums, and all manner of other buildings that made up Astrapolis. The Justice League had built a shining city in the sky, and one could spend years there and discover something new every day.
He was reminded of the marvel that had been built, the wonder of it all, as he passed by viewports that offered him stunning views of other planets and outer space. But even those sights couldn't raise his spirits. She could. He found her at her usual place, in the massive garden with it's ceiling of stars. A farmer's daughter at heart. She was bent at the waist, tending to several carnations. She heard him step closer, heard his heartbeat. But she acted surprised when he wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back into his chest, looked at him with those beautiful violet eyes.
"Can't a girl get some alone time with her flowers?" She smiled.
"You'll have plenty of that while I'm in there with the Council. It'll be quite unpleasant I'm sure." Lara Kent, the newest Supergirl, smirked,
"Well I'm sure, you'll rise to the challenge. You're adaptable that way. Just like you'll adapt to me turning my attention back to my flowers." She made a show of trying to untangle from his arms when she could have escaped with a nudge of her pinky and Alfred just kissed her. That actually surprised her, then she leaned into it, turning around to kiss him back before withdrawing for a moment,
"You don't usually like public displays of affection. People might see. You hate that kind of attention. You hate them talking." Albert shook his head,
"Let them see. Let them talk. I don't care about any of that right now. I just need you." Lara stroked his cheek, smiled warmly, and kissed him back.
For a moment, Albert Luthor forgot about everything else. Just a moment.
The Fortress of Doom, An Unknown World
January 8th, 2052 | 5:00pm | Trophy Room
Alexander Luthor stood looking at the marks of his successes. In Bangkok, the head of the General was supposedly still displayed on a spike outside of Parliament. But the real thing has been sent to the Legion by Sin Tzu as tribute. It was now floating in a preservative jar, the latest of the Legion's collective mementos of conquest. True, Alexander hadn't struck the killing blow. No he'd made sure to deny Vortex the pleasure. But he still considered it his success. The culmination of so much meticulous planning and his own strategic vision, no matter how much Sin Tzu tried to claim credit for it. There were hundreds of other such tokens, but this head on a pedestal was his.
He studied the blank eyes for a moment and turned smiling to the window, looking out on the red skies and black forests. It had been a marvelous week for him. Accolades from the Council. One of those arrogant society members had been killed. The dreadfully dull Blockbuster had been taken into custody without the Legion's operation being compromised. Batman's grandson had been turned to their side. The Justice League was on the defensive. And father had personally congratulated him.
Really the occasions called for celebration. And there was much of that. The Fortress had been opened to thousands of the Legion's associate members. The common areas were infested with debauchery and sin. Despite it's ominous skull-like appearance, the Fortress had all the modern amenities one could expect. And yet beyond even gambling, drinking, or dancing, many of his compatriots unsurprisingly preferred the illegal pleasures. All manner of recreational drugs. Fights between monsters from supernatural dimensions, sometimes with an unlucky prisoner thrown in. Brawling in public. And not to mention what went on in the brothels and dungeons. He heard some had become rather fond of testing new weapons on prisoners. Really anything went, so long as another Legionary wasn't slighted. But there were plenty of slights. It was all the local security could do to keep the Legionaries from killing each other or damaging the Fortress' property.
In another time, Alexander might have been amused by the antics. But not now. He preferred more constructive past times, of which there were many in the Fortress. The training center was just as effective as the Justice League's, if a tad more dangerous. The library was just as expansive and with some forbidden volumes to boot. He heard a rumor that the mess hall provided human meat upon request but he'd never found out for sure. Beyond that, the Fortress was a hub of business. Supernatural beings and extraterrestrial travelers often came to the Fortress to trade in black market goods, and there were plenty of hidden rooms to discuss contract killings or smuggling routes. One could venture out into the wilderness if they wanted, but only at their own peril.
No, what interested Alexander was the auditorium. The Council of Light had opened themselves up for petition from their members and both Sin Tzu and China White had complaints to put forth about Angela Mannheim. China had come herself with an impressive armed guard, smart. Sin Tzu had sent a brother or cousin to act as a herald. Smart as well, he was probably a rival somehow. If Vortex wanted to he could put forth a complaint about Alexander denying him his bonus, but he doubted the brute would take such a formal route. No he'd come up with some petty revenge later that Alexander wasn't even worried about. His reasons for coming to the meeting chamber were two-fold. In addition to witnessing the mediation in the poppy field dispute, he also wanted to get the measure of the Princess Mahara. They had never met before but the word on the grapevine was that her father had sent her to the Fortress as an agent of his own interests. Alexander wanted to see if she lived up to the King. She'd likely be in the auditorium, paying witness to the Legion's official business.
Afterward he'd try to seek out some of his other comrades. Their company was sometimes tolerable, though he suspected most of them were training. Just as long as he didn't run into the cybernetic oaf. The doors of the auditorium were manned by a squad of stormtroopers, suited in black armor and matching helmets. They stood at attention and he nodded back, taking his seat in the circular stand that ran around the Council Chamber, the Council themselves seated on a raised dais overlooking the speaker's podiums below. Alexander studied all the faces, though some of them were only present by hologram or had a stand-in speaking for them.
Vandal Savage, the immortal. Queen Bee, mistress of HIVE and the Neo-Persian Empire. The Brain, conqueror of Algeria. Lord Grodd, butcher of the Congo. Duke Xanatos, fortune 500 CEO and black market weapons mogul. Killer Frost, self-made ice queen from the eastern bloc. Klarion the Submissionary, agent of the Lords of Chaos. Lord Naga, of the snake-worshipping Nagaraja. Ocean Master, rebel against Atlantis. Dr. Sivana, ally of Black Adam and enemy of Captain Marvel. Baal Sinestro, standing in for his conqueror father. Talia al Ghul standing in for hers. Alexander's father, who needed no introduction. Thirteen in the Light, the Legion's chosen leaders. There were others who were perhaps more infamous, more powerful. But those thirteen had the influence and support, and the wide resource base to form the initial alliance the Legion had been born in. Lex Luthor did not acknowledge his son beyond a cursory nod, which Alexander expected. This was official business after all.
Alexander leaned back, crossed his arms, and waited for the fun to start.
