[IC] CLOSED - Ultimate One Universe: Season One

[Supermaxx]

Cowboys And Aliens: Issue #7

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New York City, New York

'Warning: Supernova equivalent heat detected within atmosphere. Seek cover immediately.'

The hero they called 'Johnny' had set the sky on fire, yet the Silver Surfer still stood tall. Jaime could feel the waves of heat radiating from that massive explosion, even while he was still on the ground far below. A bright flash filled the air behind the clouds, a series of colorful lights dancing like titanic embers in the morning sun. The new hero showed a terrible amount of power that would've struck awe into anyone; Reyes was reminded of the mushroom clouds made by the nuclear bombs he'd seen in history class. Yet despite that magnificent display, the Surfer had descended through the smoke and ash, an unfeeling contempt on his stoic expression. The herald of Darkseid was going to crush Johnny in his hand, and there wasn't a single thing they could do about it.

Reyes tried, of course. He had flared his jetpack to life before Sue had finished crying out for someone to do something. A burst of power sent him flinging into the air at speeds that could match an F-22 Raptor. Jaime could tell he still wouldn't make it in time. The Surfer was already preparing the finishing blow, Reyes's arms reaching out in front of him and a desperate cry of "NO!" on his lips just before his vision was filled with a brilliant display of color, and a sound like the crack of thunder drowned out his voice.

It was like flying through a rainbow, if a rainbow's arrival came with hurricane force winds and a shockwave that rocked the coastline. Jaime's flight pattern- it was more like a controlled leap, really- was immediately thrown off by the unexpected blast of alien energy. He was sent spinning through the air and falling from the sky for the second time that day, only this time Reyes wasn't the only one that needed to be caught. He used the same methods he did before, lighting up his arm cannons to direct steady himself enough to catch a glimpse of Johnny's falling form. "I gotcha, ese, hang on-"

'Massive influx of unknown energy nearby- it is 300% more efficient than our current power source. Recommend assimilation.'

"Not the time, Scarab!" Jaime let his jets burst to life, flinging himself through the air toward Johnny-

Only, Johnny wasn't there. A blur of movement filled his vision, and Jaime was only able to track it long enough to see it race out over the bridge and into the city. "-Flash?" There wasn't anyone else who could've pulled that kind of speed off, yet he was still left floating there, awestruck at what had just happened.

Flash wasn't the only one that left him feeling like he was in the presence of gods.

He was close enough to make out the man that had exploded through the rainbow bridge in a ball of lightning and fury. With every throw of his fist, the sky cried out with an vengeful howl, electricity dancing between his knuckles. The man himself was...massive. He had to be almost seven feet tall and packed with muscle. And the power he wielded...it wasn't like anything Jaime had ever seen before.

It left him thunderstruck, to say the least.

With no one left to catch and the sky rapidly filling with clashing gods, Jaime decided to cut his engines and plummet back down toward the Raft, only letting them flare to life right at the end to break his momentum before he destabilized the prison further by crashing right through it. He looked over to the blonde woman from earlier. "I think Flash got him?" He said with an awkward shrug of his shoulders. Any chance he had at impressing the new heroes had been stolen away by the fastest woman alive, leaving Jaime to look like a dunce. It wouldn't be the first time a girl had done that to him, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

He wasn't given much time to gawk at the duel for the fate of humanity as Spider-Woman called for everyone's attention. It wasn't until she mentioned it that Jaime noticed just how poor the state of the Raft was; it looked like the only thing keeping the prison afloat was duck tape and a couple of prayers. Part of him had mixed feelings about rescuing some of the lowlifes imprisoned here. Many of them were metahumans, and he couldn't imagine there were too many other places that could keep them in.

It didn't take long to throw those feelings out when he remembered that, if not his escape, he'd be sitting in one of these prisons too.

Jaime was just about to speak up when he heard something loud blare out from behind them- an alarm?- and then felt a pair of hands wrap about him. Then the world turned to liquid and he felt himself move faster than any human being should be capable of. It only took a split second to realize the Flash must've grabbed him too, and only a split second later it appeared she was planning on ramming his face through a solid wall of metal. "-OH GOD-"

Reyes was letting out a rather undignified scream when he came to a sudden and abrupt halt, his stomach turning and the world no longer making any sense. They were standing inside the prison, on...the other side of a massive locked door. Flash had put him inside the sinking prison, alone, and had just ordered him to get the door open. "Wait, you can't just-" And she was gone before he could finish.

"Women." Jaime groaned, stepping up to the panel. He hadn't a clue how to operate it, or what she was thinking bringing him in there in the first place. "This is why I don't date, Scarab. Women don't make sense."

'You realize that you cannot physically lie to me, correct? I'm well aware what you were thinking when-'

"-Just shut up and help me get this door open." Reyes grumbled, tearing the front of the panel off to expose the wiring underneath.

[Morden Man]

The Raft, New York

Ben, Reed, and Sue watched on while Thor and the Silver Surfer duked it out like two warring titans. Each blow that exchanged between the two of them felt like it shook the planet. They had seen might before – indeed, they’d stood before a Silver Surfer before, even faced down Galactus – but this was something else. Johnny’s kamikaze attack had lit up the night’s sky but hadn’t been enough to put the Surfer down. They only hoped that Thor would succeed where their brother had failed.

“The Surfer said he was working for Darkseid,” Ben mumbled. “Do you think maybe it’s our Darkseid? Could he have found us here?”

“I’m afraid there’s no way of knowing that n-”

A blast from the Surfer went crashing into one of the Raft’s remaining radio towers and it started to go down. Reed’s eyes locked on it. There were still people inside. He couldn’t tell whether they were prison staff or prisoners, but if someone didn’t help them they were going to drown to death when that tower hit the freezing waters beneath the prison. Within a half-second, Richards’ powerful brain had deduced a means to keep the tower standing. He opened his mouth to bark orders to the others when Spider-Woman's voice cut across him.

"You, skull dude. Mind giving me a ride through the Raft? I'll use what webbing I have left to keep any fracture points we find as structurally sound as I can make them. That will give the rest of you time to get as many people out as possible. Sound good?"

@HenryJonesJr

Reed smiled in recognition of the soundness of the plan the teenager had devised. “What are you waiting for? You heard Spider-Woman.”

The heroes burst into action and what remained of the Fantastic Four did their part assisting the stragglers making desperate escapes from the prison. The damage that Thor and the Surfer were causing was almost immeasurable. If the fight went on for much longer Reed wasn’t sure that there would even be a prison left standing once all was said and done. Where would they put the prisoners? Could they hold them all in one place if things really hit the fan?

He banished the thought from his mind as he heard a distant cry for help. A heavy-duty vehicle carrying around a dozen members of prison staff was clinging to a crumbled edge of the Raft. They were usually used for prison transport but clearly the staff had taken refuge inside it once the breakout had started. Reed signalled to Ben and Sue and the trio dashed towards the vehicle without a second’s hesitation.

Reed’s body at once became as taffy and he caught the vehicle in a hammock of his own making. His stretchy arms and legs shook with the weight of the truck but he soon felt relief as Ben’s rocky hands dragged it from the edge of the cliff and back firmly onto dry land. He tore open its heavy doors and the prison staff members came streaming out of it. There were tears down their faces. They had thought they were staring certain death in the face until the Fantastic Four – or three – had arrived.

A sudden crack announced that another piece of the prison had been knocked free. From high above them a slab of concrete came spiralling towards the newly-freed staff and they let out a scream. Sue extended a hand and caught the slab in a hard-light construct at the last second. With a flick of her wrist she sent it careening towards the sea and the newly-freed civilians breathed a breath of another sigh of relief.

One of them looked towards Ben, Reed, and Sue with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much. I was sure we were goners. Who are you people?”

“There’s no time for that,” Sue shook her head. “Get out of here. You hear me? You get the rest of them out of here and across that bridge.”

The man nodded modestly and shouted directions to his colleagues. Once they were out of eyesight, Ben turned his face up to Thor and Surfer. They were still caught in a furious tussle that could have been torn straight from the pages of classical mythology – and neither of them seemed to be slowing down.

“I should be up there," Ben murmured as a pang of guilt ran over him whilst helplessly watching the battle from the ground. "Thor shouldn’t have to face the Surfer alone. No one should. Get me up there somehow, Stretch, and I'll make Chrome Dome wish he'd never been born.”

Reed shook his head. “We’ve done our part. If anyone can beat the Surfer on their own, it’s Thor. It’s our job now to help get these people out of here and somewhere safe. If the Surfer’s still standing after that? Then we’ll worry about him – and Darkseid – but not a moment before.”

Ben nodded in acceptance and the three of them dashed forwards once more to provide another group with their assistance. Above them, each blast of power cosmic seemed to dance around the New York skyline like a shooting star – and each punch sounded like a thunderclap.

Let the gods be gods, Ben thought to himself in quiet resignation, the Fantastic Four would put people first, as they had done since the start.

[Hound55]

“You must be out of your mind, Marc? Why did you bring it here?” Marlene yelled.

Jean Paul, Marlene, Spector and Samuels were downstairs in the subterranean hangar, looking on from another room behind a glass window at the heavily bound werewolf which had been strapped to a table. The werewolf writhed rigorously against it’s bonds.

“Not an ‘it’. A ‘him’. And I brought him here because of what I found on his leg.”

She waited.

“I found a serial number. And all of the fur has been chewed and worn off. He had some kind of ankle device on.”

“And?”

“And?!? It means he’s been held prisoner. He’s an innocent. Just like those we’re trying to protect.”

“Except he runs around killing people when he’s not a prisoner. Did it occur to you that maybe he was a prisoner for a reason?”

“We’ll see when he changes back. There’s no need to punish the man for the wolf.”

“Well what’s your solution, Marc? What? Are we going to keep him here?” Jean Paul replied.

“No. Steven is working on something that should work for all parties…”

“Even the ones who lost family members to this thing?”

“…"

"…Perhaps not, but it should prevent anyone else from losing a family member to it.”

The others walked back to the elevator, and left Spector watching over the bound wolf. He didn’t blame them. It was so late that soon the day would dawn. Marc just wanted to wait for the second transformation. He owed this man that much at least. As well as to re-set his leg, assuming that would transform broken as well.

Spector chose to stand, not trusting himself to sit whilst he waited. But he didn’t have to wait long. Soon there was howling, and cracking. Sinew twisted, bone scraped. Howling turned to screaming. The wolf wasn’t tied up in a way consistent with human anatomy. Spector quickly sliced through the bonds using a crescent dart and gave the man space.

He whimpered and clutched at his foot, sitting on the table. It hurt him, but it didn't seem to be as severe as the initial break. Perhaps the transformation had something to do with it.

“The Hell did you do to me?”

“I broke your leg. You were being… difficult.”

“Yeah well… All things considered I guess I’m kind of lucky you didn’t kill me. Where is this place?”

“Not for you to know.”

Jack Russell inspected himself. He had scar tissue all over.

“So are you going to kill me, or are you locking me up here somewhere.”

Spector sized the man up.

“You’re very hung up on the idea of me killing you. Truth be told, I’m thinking of a third option.”

He walked around the bench and threw him a stack of paper.

Jack Russell grabbed the paper and looked at the first page. It was a blown up map of a place called “Keno City”.

“City? This isn’t going to--”

“Ignore the name. It’s got a population of 15. It’s in the Yukon.”

He threw the stack back.

“It’s still fifteen.”

“It’s also just the first page…” the Moon Knight spoke, throwing the paper back.

Jack Russell begrudgingly picked the paper back up and turned beyond the first page. It was some kind of a box.

“What is this?”

Steven Grant began his sales pitch. “Keno City is small, but still has a general store. It’s a place where the locals know one another but also give their space.”

If he wasn’t wearing his mask, Russell could have seen Grant’s eyes sparkle with the excitement from the package he was setting up.

“The second page is an 8 by 6 concrete and steel reinforced cell, with silver interior. We can get you… dog bedding or whatever you want for the inside to make your “other” more comfortable. You can hunt locally and stock the cell to keep the wolf fed on fresh meat. Oh… what I really like is the door. Once again, silver interior with a foot and a half thick door comprised of titanium and steel alloy - with the locking mechanism an electronically preset timelock with selectable options. Say… set to the lunar calendar for the next 100 or so years from dusk to dawn.”

Jack Russell turned the pages with an expression of curiosity.

"The cell exists on your own property. A log cabin with decent amenities, picked from the selection on the fifth through to twelfth page - I particularly liked the full log cedar and stone I circled on 6 - there’s a service on page 14 that delivers care packages, food, groceries, etc to remote areas if you don’t feel up to dealing with the general sto--”

“Whoa, whoa… slow down there. How am I supposed to pay for all of this?”

The cadence of the Moon Knight’s voice suddenly shifted. “I’ve been told… by our mutual benefactor, that with the amount he’s invested in me to keep me equipped… well, the lives it saves by having you agree to relocate to a place where you can better deal with your-- condition.” Moon Knight hung, looking for the right words. “He says it’s a splash in the ocean compared with what he provides for me.” He seemed almost bitter at the suggestion.

Jack Russell kept flipping through the selected documentation.

“So… this is just waiting for me out there, huh?”

“Well, no. You’ve got to pick your cabin design first. Then we airlift the cell to the location… The cabin should be ready within two weeks. Well before you require it. Worst case scenario we may have to put you up in a local hotel until construction is completed.”

The Moon Knight swept across the floor and headed for the elevator.

“Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes to bring you down food.”

“Yeah.” Said Jack, his mind preoccupied with looking at the different possibilities for his own home. “Oh… thanks!” As Russell realised what he had said.

The Moon Knight turned. “What are you thanking me for?” He grunted. “I’m not doing this. I’m just the guy who broke your leg.”

“Yeah, well. If you didn’t break my leg and bring me here, I guess this never would have happened. This… This could actually let me start to have some kind of a life.”

The Moon Knight was non-responsive. He just made his way to the elevator and clanged the door closed.

“The hard part is going to be figuring out how to get you there…” He muttered to himself, his voice obscured by the cacophony of the old elevator.

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕 🌖 🌗 🌘 🌑

[Lord Wraith]

N E W Y O R K B A Y, N E W Y O R K:

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^{W E D N E S D A Y, A U G U S T 0 8T H | T H E R A F T}

He had made him bleed.

Thor had watched as the blood spurt forth from the Surfer’s mouth before the silver hand had wrapped around his throat. The vice-like grip squeezed tighter and tighter as the Surfer bombarded Thor’s body with the power of his master. Defiantly fighting back with the fury of the storm, Thor reached his hand towards the Surfer’s arm, squeezing his wrist as his other arm pushed against the alien’s shoulder.

“Till Valhalla!” He bellowed, pulling the Surfer towards him as Thor threw his head back before swinging it forward, smashing it against the Surfer’s forehead. The shock of the attack caused the Surfer to release his grip as Thor smiled widely as surprise slowly spread across his foe’s silver visage. Rushing forward, Thor threw a devastating punch only for the Surfer to manage to avoid the blow. Spinning around, Thor threw another punch, his hand landing firmly in the Surfer’s grip as he held the blow before raising his opposite hand. Realizing too late the Surfer’s intents, Thor was too slow to take the blow as he watched it fly past him, colliding with the Raft’s tallest tower.

“COME THEN, ASGARDIAN, THE FATE OF SEVEN BILLION LIVES WILL BE DECIDED BETWEEN YOU AND I ALONE THIS NIGHT.”

Moving out of the Surfer’s grip, Thor stared down his cosmic foe. This was the man who had caused the misery of so many on Midgard and perhaps beyond. Who knew how many worlds he had visited, tested, on behalf of his master.

Then a realization dawned upon Thor.

Looking at the Surfer’s silver coating fading away, images of Carl Creel came flooding back. If the Surfer had imbued the prisoners of the raft with new powers, then he could have done the same to Creel.

And to Amora.

Everything that had brought about this moment had been the Surfer’s own doing, and he was going to suffer for it. For hurting Marville, for hurting his parents. Taking a step forward, Thor unclapsed his cape, loosing it to the howling winds as he curled his hands into tight fists, each knuckle cracking as he stared down the Surfer.

"Only the fate of one life will be decided tonight, Surfer!" Thor retorted, lightning crackling along his entire body as the pair stared each other down, like two predators locked in a fight to the death.

But for more than for any other reason, any other justification, Thor was going to make the Surfer suffer for hurting Barbara.

His Barbara.

“One should know their foes if they ever hope to best them in battle.” Thor boasted as he rushed towards the Surfer once more. Rising into the air with his fist raised high, Thor bellowed in the Surfer’s face as he closed the gap between them.

“I am Thor!” He roared proudly before delivering the first blow across the Surfer’s face, thunder echoing across the turbulent waters surrounding the Raft.

“The Son of Odin!” Thor continued to yell as delivering a subsequent low blow to the Surfer’s abdomen. The chrome plated man doubled over as Thor roared again before delivering a knee to the alien’s face.

“The God of Thunder!” His words hung in the static-filled air as lightning flashed all around them, illuminating the battlefield in a blinding flare of pale blue as numerous bolts of energy descended from the sky directly into the Surfer’s chest. The chrome plated man arched his back in agony as the fury of the storm ran the length of his body.

“I am the Heir to the Throne of Asgard, the Protector of the Nine Realms!” Thor continued to boast, a piece of rebar flying to Thor’s hands before he moved forward quickly, driving the long piece of metal into Surfer’s chest breaking through the silver coating before another bolt of lightning struck the metal bar, traveling its length into his body.

“Björn of the North! The Lone Rider of the Storm! The Lord of Battle!” Yelling louder with each name, Thor continued to strike the Surfer harder and harder as he continued his assault. His knuckles were growing raw as he suddenly took hold of the piece of rebar, snapping it off in the Surfer’s chest.

“I am the fierce spirit and to my enemies,” Thor growled as he raised a leg, delivering a powerful kick to the Surfer as he sent the alien rolling through the debris across the battlefield.

“I am the Terrible!”

Several rolls of thunder boomed around the Raft as Thor stood over the Surfer’s body triumphantly. Pressing his hands together, Thor cracked his knuckles as he took a step forward, his voice barely above a growl as he continued to speak with each step.

“For all the harm you’ve done to Midgard, to Marville, to even Carl Creel and to June Moon,” He paused as lightning struck the ground around him. “ But most of all, for the harm you’ve done to Barbara Norris, my Barbara, I will send you back to your master, broken and begging for him to end your life.”

[DocTachyon]

”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - Glitter And Gold: Part Eight

“The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man, or take unfair advantage.”

-Anonymous

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New York City, New York --- The Raft Prison Island

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”No!” Vigilante’s lariat had just kissed the sole of Johnny Storm’s boot before the Surfer snatched him away. Vig plummeted to the ground, tangling himself on his bike, trying to jump from it in mid-air and snatch Storm from The Surfer’s grasp, but it was too late.

Vigilante slammed into the ground and his bike went skittering away across the shattered concrete ground. He was on his feet immediately, gun in hand, trying to get a bead on The Surfer.

”C’mon ugly, jes hold still for three seconds…” Before he could get a clear shot, a pillar of light appeared so fast it seemed to erupt from The Surfer’s back. It was like the finger of God. For all he had seen in Hell, Vigilante had never witnessed power like this… At least not up close.

”Kick his ass, big guy!” Vigilante shouted to the God of Thunder. Thor and the Surfer battled through the seas and the skies, slamming into each other in bursts of power, lightning arcing off from each strike.

“Join the fight, Greg Saunders.” The Spirit called to him. He could feel his body moving already, his bike automatically righting itself for its rider --

”Beleive me, I’d love to give him a piece of my mind. But this is a whole ‘nother weight class to you and me. Way I reckon, we’re jes a spirit, not a God. I’m sure we’ll get a chance to get our licks in on our own time. Meantime, lotta innocent souls left on this here vessel.” Vigilante said, shaking the tension out of his muscles and calling for his bike. This was an argument to have later, n’ The Spirit knew that, deep down.

"You, skull dude. Mind giving me a ride through the Raft? I'll use what webbing I have left to keep any fracture points we find as structurally sound as I can make them. That will give the rest of you time to get as many people out as possible. Sound good?"

@HenryJonesJr

”Works for me, ma’am.” His bike rolled to his side and he sat, Spider-Woman perching behind him. He pulled the throttle and the bike took off through the prison, winding around tight corners and touring as much of the prison as he could to let Spider-Woman tag each weak spot. He snatched up prisoners and guards up as he went, dropping ‘em off in marginally more secure areas of the prison, hopefully to get sheparded across the bridge by someone else.

”Y’all should invite me to these shin-digs more often.” Vig quipped, skirting around a corner, blasting through a pile of collected rock. ”So much fun.”

[Morden Man]

"I will send you back to your master, broken and begging for him to end your life.”

@Lord Wraith

The Raft, New York

The Surfer coughed. Another mouthful of silver blood came splattering from his mouth and onto his chin. He was laid on his back on the battlefield with a piece of lumbar jutting through his chest. If the Surfer could feel pain, he was certain he would be in it. Yet as long as there was still the power cosmic running through his limbs, the Surfer would go on. Whilst his Lord Darkseid’s wishes remained unfulfilled, no physical labour was beyond the herald’s reach.

“CARL CREEL? JUNE MOON? BARBARA NORRIS? YOU SEEK TO LAY THEIR PAIN AT MY FEET?”

The herald’s pink hands wrapped around the piece of metal lodged in his chest. He pulled hard and without a noise dragged the metal free. The wound did not bleed but there was now a gaping hole in the Surfer’s chest. Its edges were pink and fleshy and now the herald’s silver coating seemed to be retreating even from his torso.

He rose to his feet and approached the Asgardian with a hand outstretched. The God of Thunder swung yet more angry fists in his direction but this time the Surfer invoked his intangibility to pass through them. The strain of doing saw even more of his coating slip away from him, but he did not need much more power to see to it that the god’s true tormentor was revealed to him.

“LORD DARKSEID IS NOT THE AUTHOR OF YOUR PAIN, ASGARDIAN – NOR I ON HIS BEHALF. IF YOU SEEK THE TRUTH, YOU MUST SEARCH CLOSER TO HOME.”

The Surfer’s hands grasped Thor’s head and a sudden shockwave of power cosmic passed through him. As with Iris West earlier in the contest, the herald’s power delved deep into the Asgardian’s memories and sifted through them. Carl Creel’s attack on Marville. June Moon’s enshacklement to the goddess Amora. The pain of Blake Donaldson’s love Barbara Morris. All these memories and more were sent tumbling through Thor’s mind.

And through the carnage a figure appeared. One long thought lost to Thor and his kind. He stood in the darkest recesses of Thor’s mind. He was barely visible. The black suit he had wrapped himself in whilst meddling in the affairs of mortals had been discarded. Now the architect of Blake’s many trials was revealed to him. A sudden shock of lightning illuminated the figure for but a second.

It was Loki. Not Darkseid, nor the Silver Surfer, as the herald had explained. Thought long-dead, Thor’s brother had returned – and had brought a maelstrom of discontent and pain with him from the afterlife. The knowledge tore Thor’s inside aparts. The memories, the images, the Surfer was dredging through were like a hot knife being jabbed into the deepest parts of the Asgardian’s brain.

The Surfer’s hands slipped from Thor’s head and the god fell to his knees in pain. He was still trying to process his brother’s part in his suffering – and the physical pain that the Surfer’s mental assault had inflicted upon him – when the herald passed an intangible hand through the still-reeling Thor’s chest. It lingered through his heart as the Surfer prepared to deliver the coup-de-grace.

“YOU HAVE BEEN A WORTHY ADVERSARY, ASGARDIAN. YOUR DEATH WILL BE QUICK. YOU HAVE EARNED THAT KINDNESS.”

[Sep]

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Multiplayer Event 2

^{THE RAFT
Music}

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There were four of them in the prison now. Iris wasn’t entirely sure how the others made it in, but that didn’t matter now. Blue was getting the door open and then they’d be able to safely evacuate people. In the control room Iris tried a number of combinations, hitting different buttons and flipping different switches however nothing appeared to make much of a difference. Whatever blows had been dealt while she was unconscious had rendered the prison in a complete and utter state of lockdown. She slammed her fist down on the console as it beeped angrily at her. The room shook as the entire prison destabilized further. Iris winced, they were going to have to get everyone out of here. Even if the fight didn’t destroy the prison the matter of the fact was this wasn’t going to be a very good prison for very long, and people were going to start dying.

Iris ran to a nearby cellblock. Opening the cells she handcuffed eight inmates together, before bringing a card to lead the group. She smiled at the guard. “You need to get these people out of here.”

He looked at her with a terrified look on his face. She grabbed his shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Listen. I know you didn’t sign up for this, but you are responsible for these people. You need to get them out of here, now.”

The guard nodded at her, as she disappeared again repeating the process. Iris turned a corner and saw the man who had been named ‘Vigilante’ and Spider-Woman roaming through the halls. Spider-Woman appeared to be shooting webbing into weak points in the building to try and enforce them. Iris slowed to keep pace with the bike turning to them as she ran. Concentrating she spoke to them, and what she hoped was a normal speed so that they could understand what she was saying. “I’m sending the prisoners out of the front door, handcuffed in groups of eight. We can’t keep them here any longer. The best we can do is send them to the Police and S.H.I.E.L.D forces that are gathered at the otherside of the bridge.” She took a sidestep as a piece of ceiling collapsed in the corridor between the group of superheroes.

“This has to end soon, or people are going to start dying.”

[HenryJonesJr]

It all flies by in a blur as I ride on the back of the motorcycle, trying my damnedest to keep the Raft together with what amounts to chewing gum and duct tape. I don't know if it's going to be enough, but we're making headway, and getting people out as we do. I may not be able to fight the Surfer with any discernible effect, but at least I can do what I do best. That's save people. That's why I started doing this in the first place. Not to fight aliens. To save people.

A tinge in the back of my mind tells me that's a lie, though. It irks me that I was basically useless against the Surfer. All I could do was dance around and hope he doesn't kill me in hopes that someone would show up and save little old me. It burns me that I was the superpowered equivalent of a damsel in distress.

Even more so, however, is the other voice in my head telling me what really bothers me about all this.

I'm afraid of the Surfer. Even if I don't want to admit it, seeing that level of raw power, something way out of my league, has shaken me to the core. The Surfer is here for one reason: to subjugate Earth. If I can't do anything to stop that, what good am I? What worth do I have if I can't stand up to someone like that?

The motorcycle skidding to a stop rouses me from going through the motions of webbing the weak points up. I hear the driver curse as the corridor we're traveling down begins to collapse. But I can also see a group of Raft guards about to be trapped by the falling debris.

"Thanks for the ride, cowboy," I say to the Rider, springing off the bike.

Flying through the air, I kick off a falling piece of ceiling, propelling myself to the other side of the collapsing ceiling. I go about twenty yards, twisting, twirling, and tumbling around, over, and through collapsing concrete and steel. I narrowly escape getting trapped myself, but my spider sense keeps me one step ahead of the cave in.

The guards are not so lucky. I can see debris begin falling their way. Webbing slows its fall as I run to help, but some of it still falls towards potential victims. Luckily, I get there before it finds its home. The steel girders and concrete fall onto my shoulders instead of onto the three guards below me. I feel the pounds of force pressing down on me. My knees shake under the stress, and every muscle in my body feels like their on fire.

My right knee buckles, and I fall to it. Above me, I can hear the rest of the structure around me just waiting to bury me like the tomb of some ancient pharaoh. Around me, panic fills the faces of the two men and one woman who I'm currently keeping from being crushed alongside me. One of the men is praying. The other looks resigned to his fate. The woman is crying, her mascara running down her face.

You got into this to save people, a voice says in the back of my mind. They're right in front of you. They're all that matters now.

"Don't..." I cough, my body protesting my desire to do anything other than keep the Raft's collapsing bones at bay, "don't be afraid. We're gonna get out of this. I promise."

Taking deep, purposeful breaths, I manage to get my feet back under me. My pain begins to fade away, and any doubts I may have been having moments ago are erased by a realization that this is my purpose. If I can save three people here, right now, I've done my job. I don't need to save all of humanity. I don't need to beat the Surfer. I just need to make sure the Surfer and his bastard master don't make these people suffer. They won't end these lives. Not while I'm here.

Under my mask, I grit my teeth and begin to push back against the avalanche of fallen building. Steel groans and scrapes in protest as I make my way to a standing position, the three people around me staring in amazement. With one final push, I extend my arms, and manage to fire webbing, securing the collapsed portion of the building together for now. With my labor done, I fall to my knees for a moment.

"Spider-Woman," the female guard puts her hand on my shoulder, "are you okay?"

"Yea," I respond weakly, and begin to stand, "yea I'm okay. You guys good?"

"We are now," one of the men chuckles nervously.

"Be better if we could get out of here," the other mutters. I shoot him a look, "Hey, just saying."

He's right of course. We'll still die horrible deaths when the Raft finally disintegrates for good. I look up, and see a hole in the ceiling, and, beyond that, daylight.

"Okay, I know I just held a damn building up on my back, but everyone jump on. We're getting out through that hole. And then you're all buying me a lifetime supply of gold bond ointment. Because damn am I sore."

After a few more moments, we emerge into the fresh air, and I see a rescue boat below. Swinging down, I deposit the three survivors onto it. As I turn to head back to the Raft, the woman grabs me in a bear hug. It sets my muscles on fire again, and it makes me realize I probably busted up my shoulder real bad with that stunt.

"Thank you. I have kids at home. I'm going to get to see them because of you."

"Thanks," I grimace. "But I need to get back up there."

"Why? Haven't you done enough?" she asks as she steps back.

I fire a web to the Raft, "Not if there's still people over there in danger."

[Supermaxx]

Cowboys And Aliens: Issue #8

---

---

New York City, New York

Jaime couldn't get the door open.

He'd tried everything the Scarab suggested, but nothing was working. Rerouting the power only activated the dead switch on the gate that kept it from popping open if the facility lost power. Attempting to reverse the lockdown ended in failure because he needed a specific code that only a choice few employees knew. And apparently just breaking the door down was going to compromise what little integrity the structure still had.

"Gotta be kiddin' me." He grumbled to himself, fidgeting with a pair of wires he'd already tried three times before. He couldn't just stand there dumbfounded, but he was out of ideas. To make matters worse, he had a growing audience to watch him fumble and fail. Over a dozen prisoners, guards and staff had appeared in a blur of movement as the Flash dragged more and more people to the front entrance. They were as impatient as one would expect when their lives were hanging by a thread.

"If I don't open the door, the Raft gets flooded with water and we all drown," Reyes mumbled under his breath, his brow furrowed in utter frustration, "but if I actually open the door, the roof collapses, we get buried under rubble and we all drown anyway." It was a real catch-22- one that ended in about a hundred people dying in the worst way imaginable because Jaime's advanced alien backpack couldn't manage to open a God damn door.

"Get it open already!" One of the prisoners shouted, throwing his bound hands into the air. "We're gonna fuckin' die in here!"

"I'm trying, hombre, but it's harder than it looks!" The distant rending of metal as more of the building caved in was yet another reminder of how little time he had left. There had to be something he was missing. Something he was overlooking that he could use to get them through it before they went down with the ship. "Give me somethin', Scarab. What do I do here?"

'Force the door open.'

"So the ceiling falls on us? Great pla-"

'No,' Khaji Da interrupted him sharply, 'we can bear the extra weight while the others flee.'

Reyes wasn't sure. "What, like hold the roof up? I...don't know about that." There was so much that could go wrong. So many things that would have to be accounted for. If he screwed it up even a little bit, people would die- potentially a great many people. There had to be some other way. There had to be. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of concrete snapping above his head. A crack shot across the ceiling, sending dust and bits of rock falling down on the prisoners' heads. He felt his heart sink when he spotted water dripping down from the crevice. There wasn't any time left to doubt; he had to trust Khaji knew what it was talking about.

"Alright. Let's do this." He stepped up to the massive iron gate, rubbing his palms together as he looked over it. It was almost twice his height and just as wide across, and at least twelve inches thick. He had no idea what this much steel would weigh, but Jaime couldn't imagine it was any less than several tons. He hadn't gotten the chance to test just how strong the suit made him...

Better late than never, right?

Reyes shoved his fingers into the slot between the two sides of the door, wiggling them as deep inside as he could. "Come on Jaime." He huffed, dragging at each half with all of the might that he could muster. "Come on, Jaime!" It felt like he was trying to pull apart an aircraft carrier. The lock wheezed, bucked and screamed in protest, metal shearing against metal as Reyes tried to open up the door. For every inch of progress he made, the sound of the ceiling pulling apart grew louder. More water was flooding the corridor with every passing second, and a panic was starting to spread through the survivors behind him.

The muscles in his forearms ached and burned, the sinew tensing as it was brought to capacity. 'This is what I get for skipping gym.' He thought with a grimacing, struggling through the pain. He was rewarded by the scent of sea water hitting his nostrils from the other side, a ray of light shooting through the crack. It gave him the second wind he needed to shove even harder, sliding a leg into the gap to use everything he had at his disposal.

Despite the great strength he showed in moving it this far, Jaime still couldn't get it open enough for anyone to slip through. If he couldn't go all of the way, his effort would be for naught, and the lives behind him forfeit. Thankfully for the young, intrepid hero, he was not alone. 'It would appear you require my assistance.' A dozen tendrils of living metal shot form the Scarab-flesh, twisting and turning in the air as they shot for the gap in the door. Each dug deep into the metal, solidifying into powerful limbs. The Scarab gave it all it had, and it proved to be enough-

The door was open now.

Reyes slipped to the side, shoving his shoulder against one part and motioning forward with his head. "Alright everybody, pile out! I dunno how long I can hold this!" He shouted backward. The freezing mob of prisoners and staff didn't need to be told twice. They rushed for the door, ducking underneath Jaime's extended arm and making a break for the Raft's bridge. None of them even bothered to look back at the struggling teenager as he fought to keep from crushing some poor soul between the giant slabs of metal.

He was forced to remain in that position, holding up the waning structure like some discount Atlas as the Flash ferried the injured and other prisoners out through the gap. Reyes groaned, grunted and snarled, but he held his ground. The bruises in his ribs and the burns upon his back were not kind in their aching, but he had to ignore the wounds; he wasn't going to abandon any of these people. That wasn't what superheroes did.

"Jaime Reyes- agh- superhero. I can- shit, this is heavy- get used to that."

[AndyC]

<sub>"Clark? Are you okay, hun?"

"....I had a bad dream, Mama. I can't sleep."

"It's okay, Clark. It was just a dream."

"But it was....it was so real, Mama. There were people crying and screaming, and everything was on fire. I heard voices talking to me, and I couldn't understand them. I was so scared, and they were just.....sad. It was the end of the world, Ma."

"Well, that does sound pretty scary. But it's still just a dream, Clark. It's not the end of the world. Your daddy and I are fine, nobody's hurt, everything's okay."

"Okay, but....but can you stay here for just a little bit. At least until I fall asleep?"

"Of course, hun. I'll be right here as long as you need me."

"....thanks, Mama. Love you."

"Love you too, Clark. And don't you worry. The world isn't going anywhere."</sub>

---

"Fools, damned fools," he curses. "I could have stopped this, I could have saved us all, if they'd have just listened--.....too late now, far too late."

I've had this nightmare before. I'm being held in someone's arms, gently rocking me to try and soothe me as I cry out in confusion and fear. There's so much noise-- thunderclaps and earthquakes, the ground beneath us trembling. Dust and smoke chokes the air. Fire scorches the land and scars the sky.

It's the end of the world.

I've heard the voices before, desperate and angry and sad. I've only ever heard them speaking in babble, a language I could never hope to understand.

Now, I can grasp every word.

"We knew the Council may not want to hear you, Jor," says the voice of the person holding me, a woman with bright blue eyes. "Even with the evidence staring them in the face, one can't expect to simply uproot a hundred thousand years of tradition. And after the devastation brought about by the war with Zod...."

"Zod," the man, dark-haired with a short beard, spits the name out like poison. "I can't believe I ever trusted him, thought he could help us. I let him blind me with flattery, and then he led us all to this ruin. The Underverse fissures, the Doomsday Plague, the abduction of Kandor......it's almost obscene that he and his followers will outlive us all."

"Eternity in the Phantom Zone is hardly 'living,' Jor," says the woman, stroking my forehead with her finger. "And at the very least, Kal and Kara will live on. There's still hope in that."

"Yes," the man says, stepping toward me and looking down on me with a weak smile. "There is at least that."

"Attention, says a third voice, seemingly from nowhere, "the Star Drive reactor is charged, life support systems and guidance are nominal, and target coordinates have been set. Chances of a successful evacuation are currently 91.338% but dropping quickly; I recommend we begin the evacuation process now."

"Thank you, Kelex," the man says, taking me from the woman's arms and walking me into a large domed room. "You're right; the longer we delay, the worse Kal's chances are."

He holds me up, and I see tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, my son," he says. "I wish upon Rao and all the stars that I could have done more, that your mother and I could have joined you. But I can at least save you...my boy, my son.....the last son of the House of El. The last son of Krypton."

The ground shakes violently, and out of fear and confusion, I begin to cry again.

"This is the end, Kal," he says as I feel a force begin to lift me away toward a bright light. "It is my time, your mother's time, our world's time, to join our ancestors in infinity. But it is not your time, my son.

It is not your time......"

---

My senses slowly return to me, a hot and sharp wind beating against me, nearly knocking me off my feet, rain pelting down in sheets. I'm stumbling through sand and gravel, soaked to the bone, salt water washing up at my ankles.

There are sirens going off in the distance.

I begin to realize how tired I am, and how much pain I'm in. Every inch of my body feels bruised and beaten, muscles aching, bones creaking. The only reason I'm not face-down in the dirt is that it genuinely hadn't occurred to me to fall over.

My memory starts to rush back to me.

It was the end of the world.

.....and then, it wasn't.

"I'm.....I'm alive," I realize. "I'm okay........how am I okay?"

Last thing I remember, the Toyman had launched a missile toward Gotham City, carrying a nuclear warhead. I'd managed to steer the missile out over the ocean, but couldn't get away from the blast. I'd accepted that, was okay with what that meant, had made my peace.

I screamed, and my lungs filled with fire.

I burned, and I choked.

I fell.

I drowned.

.....and I lived.

I can't get my head around it. If I can survive something like that.....what does that mean? I've been hurt before, sure, but if even a nuclear blast can't put me down for good......what can?

As shocking of a realization as that is, I can't dwell on it for long, as my thoughts quickly turn to how tired I am. More than anything, I just want to lie down and sleep.

Perched on a rooftop, however, looking down at me, is my former enemy from earlier tonight, the Batman. Lord knows how he was able to find me, but I feel like I should probably say something to him before I meet up with Lois and go home.

I don't push off into the air so much as I begin to drift, like a balloon, before touching down on the rooftop in front of him. His mask has come off, and I swear, I must still not be all there yet.....because I swear, he looks for all the world like Bruce Wayne.

"I, erm, I know we've still got plenty of differences to work out," I say, still in something of a daze, "but I gotta tell ya, I don't think I've got it in me to go another twelve rounds. Is there anywhere around here where we can grab a cup of coffee and just talk things over?"

[Lord Wraith]

N E W Y O R K B A Y, N E W Y O R K:

---

^{W E D N E S D A Y, A U G U S T 0 8T H | T H E R A F T}

It was as though the Surfer had physically reached into his mind. Pain permeated the entirety of Thor’s skull as the sensation of tendrils sliding through his mind overwhelmed him, forcing the God of Thunder to his knees. The Surfer’s tendrils were crawling deeper and deeper with each passing second, forcing their way through every nook and crevice of his mind. Digging into even the most repressed memories, the Surfer pulled Thor’s most painful moments, replaying them before his very eyes.

As Thor kneeled, helpless to resist, he cried out, his pain expressed in a noise that could only be described as agony. The storm above the Raft seemed to cease as Thor laid on his knees in front of the Surfer, the lightning disappearing from Blake’s eyes before his blue irises clouded over. His head flinched, twisting as his mind was bombarded with image after image until finally, Blake was left staring into the face of a haunting figure as the lightning illuminated the stranger’s smiling visage for but a second. But it was enough to make the picture whole.

Loki.

Son of Laufey.

Thor’s adoptive brother.

In all of the times that Blake had gone to Odin for counsel, the Allfather had failed to mention that Loki still lived. It couldn’t be Loki, Loki had been destined to die, he had killed Baldur, their brother. His crimes were to be punished, carried out by Heimdall himself.

But as Thor recalled, the prophecy, the ancient curse known as the Ragnarok cycle, it dictated that both Heimdall and Loki were to die at the other’s hand. Yet if both Loki and Heimdall yet lived, had the cycle been finally broken after all of these millennia of death and rebirth? Or was Ragnarok still to come?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted before Thor could fully process the information before him. Another memory was forced upon him, the all too familiar sights and smells of his parent’s farm overwhelmed his senses, as a night from nearly three decades ago played out before him. There before him, stood Heimdall, his feet firmly planted in the field belonging to none other than Erik Donaldson. Anger masked every one of Heimdall’s features as his face was twisted in a grim look of determination, the look of one prepared for a fight.

“Trickster!” He yelled, his voice echoing through Thor’s skull as the memory continued to swell to the forefront of his mind. Anger hung from every word as Heimdall roared towards the sky, cursing the trickster, Loki with each thought as he spoke again. “What have you done?”

The weight of the words fell upon Thor as the reality of Loki being alive hung on his shoulders. Had it been Loki who broke the cycle? If the cycle had been broken, what did this mean for him? For Odin? Or even for Asgard whose remains still laid in ash across the third realm, its people lost to the Nine and its mysteries? Why did Loki now choose to meddle in the affairs of mortals as he bestowed gifts meant only for immortals onto such a frail, greedy race?

“Do not lose focus, my love.” A voice called softly into Thor’s ear as he rolled over in his bed, his hand cradling the loving face of his wife as she smiled up at him. Her green eyes making her dark hair all the more radiant as the subtle scent of lilac and gooseberries gently wafted under his nose.

“How could I?” Thor asked with a chuckle before sitting up in bed, “The coronation is all I can think about, Sif. I am going to be the next King of Asgard.”

“But what is a king without his people?” Sif replied as she propped herself up on her arm. “Any man can claim rulership over a land, but a true King,” She paused raising a hand as she gently ran it along the side of Thor’s cheek and over his beard. “A true King rules from the hearts of his people.”

“And how should I gain the hearts of the people?” Thor asked wrapping his hand around hers.

“Keep them safe,” The raven haired woman replied. “Show them your strength.”

Thor laughed, as he laid back down on the bed, Sif shifting her body to lay her head on his bare chest as her fingers traced the outline of his muscles beneath the heavy fur blanket.

“Do not make war, my love.” Sif stated as wrapped her arm around Thor, “Protect them, but do not bring war.” She repeated. “End it.”

Smiling, Thor laid his head back, closing his eyes as sleep threatened to engulf him once more. An odd sensation of peace had washed over him before a pain in his chest suddenly caused Thor to sit up. His home disappeared around him, replaced by a grim sky looming over jagged stones that reached towards it like a wolf’s teeth outstretched towards a meat-laden bone. Fog swirled around his feet as verdant flames danced around him. A cold embrace suddenly washed over him as Thor felt hands grasping at his feet.

Suddenly thunder echoed across the sky, rain falling as Thor looked upwards. Lightning blinding him as inaudible words were whispered into his ear. Thunder rocked the sky again as Thor felt his feet coming loose, the words growing loud as he began to float upwards.

_{“Come back to me...”}

“You will make a great king one day, my son.”

“Come back to me.”

“It is good to have you back my friend.”

“Come back to me!”

Thunder echoed over the Raft as Barbara’s voice rang in Thor’s ears. His eyes snapped open, the lightning within them renewed as he watched the Surfer’s arm plunge into his chest before it began to return its tangible state. Reacting at the speed of lightning, the God of Thunder took ahold of the Surfer’s wrist, moving the herald's hand out of the path of his heart before the hand solidified. Gasping in agony as the Surfer's arm materialized between his ribs, Thor roared through the pain as he pulled his foe in closer, reaching up as he wrapped his other hand around the herald’s neck.

Rising to his feet, Thor drove his head into the bridge of the Surfer’s nose, an audible crack echoing across the broken prison before it was lost to the howling winds and unrelenting thunder above. Yelling as the Surfer's blood covered arm sunk deeper between his ribs, Thor attacked again. Lost to his own bloodwrath, Thor drove his skull into the Surfer's head once more, then twice, then thrice. A bolt of lightning descended from the sky, striking the pair only for the energy to explode forth from Thor as he delivered yet another strike with his head.

Pulling his aching skull back, Thor stood with his hand still around the Surfer’s throat as the broken herald hung limply in his grasp, blood staining his armor as it poured freely from his side as the Surfer's arm was removed. Both the Surfer and Thor had faces covered in a layer of silver-tainted blood as the Son of Odin looked down on the Surfer, relishing his victory, his chest heaving up and down as flared nostrils greedily inhaled the air around them.

“You have been a worthy adversary, Surfer. Your death will be quick, you have earned that kindness.”

[Master Bruce]

<sub>"Be free."

"Submit."

"Be free."

"Submit."

"Be free!"</sub>

"SUBMIT!"

Two equally as stirring, yet entirely distinct voices from the past echoed throughout the back of The Surfer's mind as the remnants of Thor's lightning engulfed his increasingly weary frame. They rang in his ears so loudly that by the time he had lost the battle, The Surfer did not remember the fall, nor the blows that the Asgardian had reigned upon him. All that he could weakly discern was the aftermath, as the thunder boomed and the light faded, revealing the frightful form of the adversary that had bested him. The Surfer, with much strain, raised his hand to channel even one last spark of The Power Cosmic to defend himself. He concentrated hard. Reached out to the cosmos themselves to draw more power.

And there was only silence.

The glistening blood splashed against his throat, giving him a bitter preview of what was to come. He could not feel the immense power that had emanated from his body anymore. The connection to his board had long since been severed. Even the rage born in the Apokoliptian fire pits had entirely subsided, leaving nothing but a frail, weak and pathetic thing in it's wake. At first, he did not understand. The Silver Surfer was to be immortal, he told himself again and again as The God of Thunder drew ever closer, the intent to disprove that fact clear in the Prince's eyes.

He had anticipated resistance. The Surfer would have been a fool not to. These beings, these mortals, they fought for that which they believed. They died in the greater service of what they sought to preserve, and did proudly so. It did not matter, he had assured himself, as Darkseid's will would overcome their impudence. And at first, it seemed not that the champions of Earth would succeed. Despite the valiant efforts of The Fantastic Four, The Flash, Spider-Woman, The Blue Beetle, The Spirit of Vengeance, and even The New Genisisian, Apokolips' herald had not faltered. Even Jonathan Storm's attempt to sacrifice himself to stop The Surfer had all been in vain.

Yet in the moment that the clouds grew furious with the coming storm, and Asgard's champion joined in the battle to protect Earth, there had been a sense that The Surfer could not place. A lack of faith in The Power Cosmic's wielder, perhaps, from an outside source. At first, he had mistook this for his own doubt. His own desperate need to make sense of succumbing to Thor's righteous fury, or his inability to prevent Earth's self-appointed heroes from attempting to undo that which was to be the natural conclusion of this world.

But he knew. He knew who had relented The Power Cosmic from his grasp. He who had toyed with his mind, who had convinced him that he was to bring about the universe's ultimate harmony. The being who, even now, The Surfer could feel sitting atop a molten throne that rested several galaxies away, looking down upon his creation with an unfathomable disappointment. The herald's eyes closed, as he bitterly accepted the truth.

"I've failed."

His voice no longer fit to command the stars themselves, The Surfer meekly crawled an inch backward before his arms ultimately gave out, unwilling to carry even himself any further. His strength was gone entirely, the once radiant silver coating his skin had disappeared, and he could feel the very life slowly beginning to drain out of him. Just as well, he thought to himself. For if he did not die here, his end would come at the hands of a vengeful God.

And that would be but a mercy compared to what Darkseid would do to him, if he somehow escaped this dire predicament. But it was not meant to be. Not only had he failed his malevolent master in the quest for universal peace, but he had failed every living creature in the cosmos. What wonders The Surfer and a metahuman army could bring to them was now forever lost, all because he had not been strong enough. The shame of such a realization would likely never leave him.

"Finish me, Asgardian..."

The Surfer looked up, with tears welling in his glowing eyes. Not for himself, but for those whom would never see a universe released from it's state of everlasting turmoil.

"I am unworthy... of this world or any other. You would be just in silencing my existence."

Thor did not seem to disagree. Taking another step forward, with pure energy crackling from his fingertips, he grabbed The Surfer by the throat and raised him to meet a mortally fateful strike. The herald did not resist any longer, having accepted this to be his deserving fate, and simply waited for the end to come. As he looked into the heavens above, The Surfer could see a great light begin to overwhelm him. The same light, he wagered, many others had seen just before Darkseid's servant had brought them to their end.

But what surprised The Silver Surfer was that, with his rage slipping away into confusion, The God of Thunder seemed to be aware of the light aswell. So much so that whenever he noticed the light begin to expand into a vivid circular portal, Thor dropped The Surfer to where he had found him and was beginning to steel himself for yet another bout with an unforseen enemy.

"ENOUGH!"

No such enemy would arrive. In the place of a new threat looking to continue The Surfer's warpath appeared a woman bathed in light. Her features at first obscured, Apokolips' herald soon recognized the shape of which she had used to travel. It was another boom tube. Immediately readying himself for one of any innumerable member of Darkseid's covenant to continue where Thor had momentarily left off, he was instead shocked to see the light giving way to a woman dressed in a brilliant gold and the deepest of blue, a crimson cloak flowing from her back. And the most beautiful face that The Surfer had ever seen.

"Who..."

For too long now, the one who had only ever been called Barda had lived her life as a fugitive from Darkseid's wrath. Having taken part in the slaughtering of New Genesis, aswell as having been ordered to carry out countless atrocities void of even fleeting mercifulness by the bloodthirsty Granny Goodness, Barda had abandoned the ways of her Apokoliptian sisters of war and dedicated herself to a more noble cause. Having been party to a failed insurrection against the Dark One himself, Barda's punishment had been to watch as the person she loved was stripped of his very soul and given an entirely new one. Though she had eventually escaped and fled to open space, brazenly annihilating every Parademon and agent that served Apokolips that was foolish to cross her path, she had been chased from one end a galaxy to another.

Yet the man that she loved had been resigned to a much crueler sentence. His free will taken from him and tossed away as if it were not of any concern, Barda had helplessly watched from a distance as The Silver Surfer dutifully sought to bring about Darkseid's grand design without question or remorse. But for all of that running, and for the years of suffering, Barda had never once given up the hope that somewhere within The Surfer, there was still a spark of humanity. A glimpse of the man he once was, who once looked upon her with caring eyes and a daring heart.

She could not allow him to die before that hope was extinguished. Barda would appeal to this Surfer once, and only once, before his fate would be sealed. And every creature that existed in the vast reaches of the cosmos would have to pry Barda away before she would leave him again.

"You!", she bellowed, extending her baton to Thor. "You have shown great strength today. You have indeed bested this beast of a black hearted monster's creation. Now your part in this is over. I cannot promise retribution for your world, but I will remove the blight that has seeded this destruction. One way or another, that I can guarantee."

The Surfer recoiled in her radiance, unable to discern her identity. The woman stood several feet taller than himself, and her battle gear looked to be stained with the blood of many sorts of alien combatants. Yet as she turned to him, her expression went from that of a warrior in defense to a woman fraught with deep concern. Extending her hand, she invited The Surfer to take it.

"You must remember. You have to remember. This construct may have bound you to the will of Darkseid, but I know the heart that lies beneath this... perversion. This was never who you truly were."

The Surfer looked at the hand, weakly, unsure of what he should do. By all accounts, he did not recognize her, but the way in which her eyes stared back at him - there was something there that drew him in. A faint, distant acknowledgment of something else. A life once lived before all of this.

"I cannot... I do not remember that of which you seek. My mind is clouded. Damaged, even. There is nothing there except the will of my master."

"He is not your master!", Barda sternly spat. "He is but a deciever! A vile manipulator who seeks only to fulfill his own ends. I know this because it is you who showed me the truth in the first place. You who once dared to dream of a universe beyond Darkseid's tyranny. Surely, you can remember that much. Tell me you remember, Scott..."

The Surfer's eyes widened at the name.

Scott... this moniker felt foreign to him, yet vitally important all the same. It was as if there were two warring parts of his mind that were colliding with eachother at once. One that told him not to believe words that were clearly lies, another telling him that he knew there was validity to her words. The Surfer placed both hands on each side of his temple, concentrating as hard as he could. Trying to drown one voice out for another.

"N...No! You attempt to confuse me! I live only to serve Darkseid! To carry out the promise of Anti-Life, to bring balance to all! I am Apokolips' herald, wielder of The Power Cosmic! I am The Silver S---"

With a frightfully strong blow, Barda sent The Surfer falling back to the ground. Her teeth grit as she reached down and fiercely grabbed the herald by the shoulders.

"No, Scott! I refuse to let this happen! You were once a caring, fearless man who did not cower when presented with any challenge that you faced! I thought you to be miraculous! But here, I find you cowering! Afraid to face the truth! Unwilling to accept that what you were meant to be was free!"

The Surfer wiped the blood from his lip, shocked as he realized that it was no longer a vague silver - but a pure red. He looked towards Barda with a quizzical gaze, hanging on the last word she had spoken.

"Free?"

Barda smiled, allowing her anguish to be tempered by the same hope that had brought her all this way.

"Yes, Scott."

She placed his hand into her's, and held it to her face. Hoping, praying that the dying embers of The Power Cosmic would grant The Surfer a final look into another's memories.

"Reach in... and be free."

The Surfer's mouth went agape as several, vivid images sprang forth in his mind's eye. He saw a caped figure, his uniform a vivid red, yellow, and green, attempting to escape a bewilderingly complex trap before an audience of millions of New Genesisians.

He saw a woman laughing as he fumbled, her battle gear having been replaced by a disguise befitting the planet they were on. It was not a laugh of mockery, but of amusement. The fools around her did not believe he would ever escape.

He did, of course. For that was the gift of the one who had once been called Mr. Miracle. The Surfer's thoughts reeled as he saw other images, aswell. A war between two planets. The incursion of Apokolips. The secret plans made between this man and woman behind closed doors, speaking of heresy that betrayed what both of them had grown to know. And in a moment of passion, he sees...

A kiss.

The Silver Surfer realizes that these are not the memories of the woman. These memories are his own. And as the last of the fading hue that coats his body deteriorates, he looks back at his hand as the woman caresses it. It is wearing a green glove attached to a red sleeve. And instantly, he remembers everything. He was not willing to see the truth because, as it turned out, the truth was a trap. And with the help of the woman he loved, he had finally escaped it.

The Silver Surfer was no more.

In his place lied Scott Free, emerging from the most terrible nightmare of his life.

"Barda?"

She grinned as he looked upon her with recognition, pulling himself closer to her.

"Gods. Am I dreaming this?"

Barda took his other hand into her's and rose with him, allowing her strength to be his aswell.

"Does it truly matter?"

Placing her lips to his for the first time in what felt like eternity, Scott Free and Big Barda tenderly shared the passion of that imagined eternity in a single moment. Oblivious to the universe around them, the two tortured souls finally felt a moment of well earned peace.

As they parted, however, Scott caught a glimpse of the destruction around him. The blazing fires. The Earthly prison having barely been rescued from the brink of total destruction. The costumed champions of Earth, looking towards him with either hatred or fear.

He had caused this. Whatever state that Darkseid had put him in, he had contributed to the suffering of others.

Scott could hardly take the sight, focusing instead on Barda's eyes.

"What did I do? Barda, what did he do to me? To us?"

Barda placed her hand behind his head and brought their foreheads together, quelling the rising panic in him.

"There will be time for that later, my love. For now, take comfort in the fact that it is over."

Scott looked back at her with a worried gaze.

"But... Darkseid. The Surfer, The Power Cosmic. They are still his to command. How can we be sure that this is done? What if he comes for me again?"

Barda simply smirked, her grip on Scott growing even tighter.

"Let him try. I'll kill him before that happens."

Scott Free felt the weakness in his body overwhelm him, as he slipped into unconsciousness. Barda caught his lifeless body as it hung over her arm, back arched. But brought to peace, seemingly, once again. The burden finally lifted from him.

Throwing her love's arm over her shoulders, the boom tube reopened behind Barda, nearly blinding the heroes who had watched them in a bid of clear confusion. Barda acknowledged them, knowing that they had doubts. Perhaps reasonably so. All they had known was the vengeful Surfer - they had no reason to trust that he had been under the influence of another.

The best that she could do was speak to their concern that this threat would ever return to harm their world again.

"I know this is... difficult. Seeing one who has caused you all such pain and despair being taken away. But I give you my word that the one you know as The Silver Surfer is dead. This man was never party to his wanton destruction. He was merely the vessel. A vessel which has outlived his usefulness to Darkseid, thanks to the combined efforts of you all. For that, you have my thanks."

Raising her baton, defensively, Barda looked sadly upon them.

"And my apologies. I have run from this for too long. And he is too weak to pay a penance for The Surfer's crimes. So I am forgoing a proper introduction..."

She seemed to look particularly towards the New Genesisian known as Bekka as she continued.

"And reunion, to see that I can get him to safety. So that he may heal, and return to me as the man he once was. And I cannot let any of you stop me."

Backing into the portal, Barda noticed Scott weakly coming back to life. His eyes in a daze, he nevertheless looked upon one of the gathered heroes - Susan Storm, The Invisible Woman - and partially smiled.

"Thank you. For showing me... the way back."

Before any in attendance could question or object to what was happening, the boom tube closed ahead of them. Leaving only the trace of what had once been Apokolips' herald behind them.

The heroes were victorious.

A man's soul had been restored.

And somewhere in the galaxy, for one glorious moment…

The Lord of Apokolips knew the sting of defeat.

[mickilennial]

---

---

_{New York Bay, United States
Issue #2 — Unseen Enemies}

When Bekka arrived back in the New York Bay it was too late. The crackling of thunder, a bright light from another dimension, and the appearance of a woman that made her stop in her tracks, cross her arms and watch from afar.

She had been ready to tear through the Silver Surfer with all of her might, but it was here in New York that her nightmares started to find an answer, and for a moment she smiled in contentment, thankful that the hero that had stepped in to push back against the Silver Surfer had done so right as she had been thrown halfway across the planet. Her eyes looked downward to the state of The Raft, the location of the pieces of her sword. Darkseid commanding the power he did terrified her, but it terrified her more that he knew so much about Earth and that he desired it. She knew that eventually Darkseid would try again, but this time he wouldn't send a herald of any kind. He would send an army. And Earth needed to be prepared for it.

As she flew closer to the place where Barda had taken the Surfer from Bekka looked to the hero who had fought valiantly.

“Thank you for handling what I could not.” She uttered, with a smile before she held out her arm, channeling the energy of the fourth dimension within her fingertips; seconds later the hilt of her sword returned to her, though it would take time for her to heal the living metal that formed her blade.

“Everyone needs to be ready when Darkseid is done licking his wounds. I do not know why--” Bekka turned facing the wide ocean, “--but he wants this world. It will take all of us when he decides to begin that conquest. Be ready.”

She didn't speak another word to the auburn-haired man as she took off for the west coast, a crackle of dimensional energy shuddering around her as she did so.

[Sep]

---

---

Multiplayer Event 2

^{THE RAFT
Music}

---

---

As there was an explosion outside, Iris finished her sweep of the rear of the prison before speeding through the prison. She slapped the back of a prisoners head, grabbed a makeshift weapon from his hand and threw it away as he moved to take out the guard leading his group. “He’s your way out of here alive, you maybe don’t want to kill him.” She looked down the corridor to see Blue literally holding the door open, though he was visibly starting to strain under the weight. She ran over to the man in Blue just in time to hear him speak to himself:

"Jaime Reyes- agh- superhero. I can- shit, this is heavy- get used to that."

Iris turned to the prisoners and the guard. “Hurry up, come on you need to get out of there.” As the prisoners passed through the doorway and into the courtyard they were promptly moved around the side of the courtyard and away from the conflict. She grabbed Blue around the waist and pulled him away from the door as it slammed closed. The prison was a serious state of disrepair, all the inmates would likely need to be taken. Iris turned to ‘Jaime’ with a coy smile. “You might want to avoid the use of your real name while suited up, there’s a reason we all have a nom de guerre.” She turned as a figure appeared, speaking to the Surfer. Kissing him.

A solemn tear curled it’s way down Iris’ face, so much chaos. So much violence at the hands of one man, and he wasn’t even in control off himself. As the two of them disappeared fatigue finally caught up with her and she fell to her knees. She took a deep breath as she tried to steal herself the resolve to run back to Central City. There was still damage here yes, still work to be done. There were a lot of prisoners that needed transported, a lot of damage control to do but she was tired. She was hurt. Only now was she once again made aware of the burns over her body, the cuts and the bruises. The aching realisation of what kind of day she had had came back to her after the adrenaline wore off. Iris forced herself to her feet and put a hand on Blues shoulder.

“If you ever need me kid, stop by Central City.” Like many other people, she had never been in a situation such as this. So wasn’t entirely sure on the protocol, when she and Surfer had faced down the Surfer the first time he had helped her out of there because she was pretty badly beat up. Something which mirrored her current state. Instead she merely offered a meek wave, a wink to Spider-Woman and started limping away. Just walking for now, not quite ready to work up to a run.

[DocTachyon]

”The Ranchero of Miracle Mesa” - Glitter And Gold: Part Nine

“The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man, or take unfair advantage.”

-Anonymous

---

New York City, New York --- The Raft Prison Island

---

Vigilante sat astride his bike, content to watch the arrival of Big Barda. The prison had been cleared in large part. Nothing normal rescue crews couldn’t rightly handle, apparently. Instead, he got to watch an alien-lady pull her alien-superhero-husband who was the Silver Surfer, but now wasn’t, through a portal that appeared in the middle of nowhere with of some fancy box. Vigilante needed a drink.

“The stench of The Power Cosmic lingers, Greg Saunders. Something wicked this way comes.” The Spirit warned.

The Spirit was right. Through the holes in the skull, Vigilante could see it spread out all across the bay, that same inky black-and-silver-and-gold spread across the sky and on the surface of The Raft like it was blood, gore from The Surfer’s brawl with Thor. Wisps of it reached for the sky, longing for their master… Whoever it was. Darkseid, he’d heard someone say. Whoever or whatever that was, Vigilante could feel its presence on the horizon, popping and boiling somewhere in the cosmos. Evil in pure form, like a creature borne of Hell itself. Billions of spirits called for him, somewhere in the vastness of the cosmos. But their voices did not call for vengeance. They called for him to run.

“It’s wielder will come for us. All of us. You must be ready… Or this world, and Warpath alike, will burn.” And then The Spirit was gone from his mind, slunk into the background. Content rest, if only for a spell.

Vigilante had never been awake as The Spirit receded from his mind. Flash-grown skin leaped across his body as red hellfires died in his chest, squeezing on cracked ribs and bruised muscles Vig didn’t know he had.

’Hrrg…” He grunted in pain as the change washed over his body. Daggers stabbed into his lungs and chest from his ribs. Apparently getting bitch-slapped by The Silver Surfer wasn’t very good for your health. The Spirit was gone and in his stead was a plum out of place cowpoke.

He walked over to where The Flash had dropped Jaime, trying his best to keep his ribs steady. ”You did good out there J-” Vig stopped himself and shot a glance around. Probably wasn’t a great idea to drop his real name around all these prisoners n’ the like. Lotsa super-folk really cared about that sorta thing. He looked Jaime up n’ down. He was blue… N’ that armor on his back sure did look a lot like a bug… ”Er, ‘scuse me. I mean, uh, nice one, Blue Beetle?” Vig tried the name on for size. Kid was smart enough to get rid of it if he didn’t like it. ”I can give ya a lift back, but it might be a little slower n’ it was gettin’ here.” Vig said.

He turned to the rest of the heroes, Flash already limping her way away. Didn’t seem much fit to Vig. They all come together n’ barely come out on top. Best fighter with a hole in his chest, and already people were just trying to get away from each other. Vig took his hat in his hands.

”It’s been a pleasure, y’all. I’m mighty proud of us, all of us, that we could… Well, that we could handle somethin’ like that.” Vig pointed to the spot where Barda and pulled The Surfer away.

”But it seems to me that this, whatever this is, is jes’ gettin’ started. N’ I don’t know that any of us can handle it alone. I don’t much know how you super-folk usually play things but maybe we should… I dunno, exchange email?”

[Morden Man]

"Thank you. For showing me... the way back."

@Master Bruce

The Raft, New York

Amid the carnage, Scott Free’s words had given Susan Storm reason to hope. If Free could claw his way out from beneath Darkseid’s control, then perhaps anyone could. Though their world was out of their reach now, perhaps there was hope for it yet. Sue comforted herself with that thought as she held her brother Johnny’s hand tightly between hers. He was still unconscious. Deep unconscious at that. With the Surfer defeated, the other heroes had made swift work of holding what remained of The Raft together and the Fantastic Three had joined Johnny on the other side of the bridge.

“He’s gonna be alright,” Ben said confidently as he stared down at the Human Torch. “It’ll take more than a little supernova to put Matchstick down. The kid’s tough.”

Reed nodded in agreement. “Ben’s right. Johnny’s vitals are already looking encouraging. There’s no reason to think that he won’t come be able to recover from th-”

“I know that.”

Reed seemed taken aback by the abruptness of his fiance’s response. He looked to Ben for some kind of explanation, but was greeted with a shrug. Sue was still holding Johnny’s hand as tightly as she had ever done, staring down at him protectively, whilst the two of them watched on. After a few moments, Reed summoned up the courage to speak again.

“What’s wrong, Sue?”

“Nothing is wrong as such. I mean, not nothing – look around us, there’s clearly plenty wrong. I just… Nothing is going to be the same again, Reed. Whatever happens, there’s no way we ever go back our lives the way they were. Not the way they were back home, not even the way they were here before Hammond attacked. Things are going to be different now, for all of us, and there’s nothing we can do to stop that.”

“Differen’t don’t have to mean bad,” Ben piped up from behind Reed. “Different can be good sometimes, Suzie. I mean, I’m as torn up about the craft being destroyed as can be, you know that, but that doesn’t mean that our lives are over and done with. We can still go on living.”

Sue shook her head. “Not the way things were.”

Reed opened his mouth to speak but stopped as he noticed that Sue was pointing out into the street. She hadn’t so much as turned her face to look where she was point. Reed followed her finger’s path and noticed several television trucks that were packed up across the street. Their cameras were pointed directly at them. From behind the cameras, came half a dozen voices shouting Reed’s name at him. He stared at them unblinkingly for a few seconds before he realised his mistake. One of Reed’s stretchy arms pulled Ben in front of them to block the cameras views.

“So the world knows that we’re back,” Reed shrugged. “So what? They were always bound to find out sooner or later, weren’t they? What were we meant to do? Spend the rest of our lives hiding in SHIELD facilities. Maybe this will be a good thing for us. Maybe we can finally starting living a-”

“It’s not us that they’ll think have come back home, Reed. It’s them. Their Fantastic Four – their Reed Richards. We won’t get our lives back because our lives here don’t exist. We’ll have to live out their lives in the public eye until our dying days. Is that what the two of you want? Because it’s definitely not what I want and I can’t think it’s what Johnny would want either.”

Ben sighed. “What choice do we have, Suzie?”

Her shoulders sunk in defeat. Despite her reservations, she almost knew already how this was going to play out. Ben was right. Though every part of her disagreed with it, they really didn’t have much of a choice at all. She would have to pretend to be the Sue Storm that grew up with a father around – and worse still, she would have to live up to her promise to Namor. Her mind raced with all of the millions of potential unintended consequences of their remaining in this world she’d suppressed. This was it. This was their lives now – and, perhaps in more ways than one, there was no going back.

And then unexpectedly Johnny’s hand tightened around his sister’s. Sue glanced down towards him and his eyes had crept open somewhat. She flung her arms around his shoulders and let out a relieved laugh but Johnny’s exhausted eyes seemed confused by all of the commotion. He waved his sister away from him.

“What happened?” Johnny asked in a voice that was so weak it was almost silent. “Did I get the Surfer? Did I save everyone?”

“Too right you did, kid. You shoulda seen the way Chrome Dome went down after you lit his shiny behind up like the fourth of July.”

Johnny smiled weakly before drifting back into unconsciousness with a smile on his face. “Good...”

Sue shot Ben a disapproving look and he shrugged his shoulders. “What? What did you want me to tell the kid? That he swung and missed? Let Matchstick have his moment. When he wakes up in the morning, he’ll barely remember what he had for breakfast this morning, let alone a little white lie. Gimme a break, Suzie.”

Another wave of camera flashes interrupted their conversation and this time Ben's large torso wasn't enough to block Reed, Sue, and Johnny from their path. Sue attempted to shield her brother's face from them in vain, despite knowing he'd likely been photographed hundreds of times during the fighting, until finally Ben lifted the wounded Storm into his arms.

"Let's go home."

"Home," Ben muttered as he scanned the New York horizon as if looking to be directed. "Remind me, Stretch, where exactly is that again?"

[HenryJonesJr]

When I walk in the front door after returning from the Raft, I collapse, all my energy having been spent. I don’t hit the ground, though. Instead I find myself being carried to the couch by my dad. It feels good, if I’m being completely honest. If I wasn’t in the state I’m in, I’d probably hate it. But being babied a little after fighting an intergalactic god isn’t the worst thing in the world.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he says as he lays me down on the couch. “You just rest up. You did so well.”

I should just take the compliment, but of course I can’t.

“Did I? Because I felt kind of useless.”

“People made it home because of you,” he shrugs. “That’s all you can hope for in a situation like that. Now, I was thinking of going to pick up some ramen for dinner. Sound good.”

“Dad,” I grimace as I sit up on the couch, parts of me hurting I didn’t even know could hurt, “you’re speaking my language.”

**********

Peter Park sits, absentmindedly writing down his observations about the test rats. His mind is elsewhere, but of course how could it not be? Gwen had told him all about the fight with the Surfer. How he is, or was, a mind wiped slave of some galactic overlord. How the heroes from another dimensioned helped her, not to mention Wonder Woman and Thor.

He will never tell Gwen how much he yearns to be a hero like her. All he wants is to be powerful, and to help people like Uncle Ben had taught him to do. He wants to make his aunt proud, and to fight alongside his best friend.

“Peter!” a voice calls out, rousing him. He turns to find Doctor Curt Connors approaching, waving with his left hand at the young man. Connors’s other arm ends at the elbow, a birth defect he’s lived with his entire life. It’s why he started this project, and why he was so happy to have Doctor Octavius join it. “How are we coming?”

“Good, doctor!” Peter beams. Connors is the leading expert on reptile biology and genealogy, and the main reason they’re as far as they are on the project. “I haven’t seen you in a while. The lecture circuit good this year?”

“It’s always refreshing to speak to the young minds of tomorrow,” he smiles and takes off his glasses to clean them off. “But it’s time to get back to work. I...need to ask you a favor.”

“Sure, Doc. Anything,” Peter beams. He still can’t believe how lucky he is. He gets to work every day with these great men.

“Otto-er-Doctor Octavius will be leaving us,” Connors looks troubled, and over his shoulder as if someone would be following him. “Moving on to work on other projects elsewhere. I’m going to need more help if you’re interested.”

“Well sure, yea. I can do that,” the news hits Peter like a ton of bricks. Doctor Octavius had been so invested in this project, almost taking every setback personally. Why he’s leaving now is a mystery to Peter, one that doesn’t make much sense. But he’s here to change the world, and that’s not going to change because someone leaves.

“I knew I could count on you,” Connors smiles and pats the young man on the shoulder.

**********

Norman Osborn watches coolly as Otto Octavius takes the seat in front of his desk. Norman’s eyes narrow at the scientist as the other simply stares back with indifference and pompous swagger. Norman knew when he hired Octavius that he was taking a gamble. The man’s history is whispered about across the scientific community. Otto is willing to sacrifice caution in order to achieve his results. There was a time where that may have been a possible avenue, but not in the new world they inhabited now. Now, when they are literally playing god, it means that all it takes is one slip up for the world to come crashing down on them.

“Norman,” Otto has a shit eating grin painted across his face, “to what do I owe the pleasure of being called to your office?”

Osborn rolls his eyes and throws a file across his desk, “You’re lucky one of my friends in the NYPD got to this before anyone else did. The autopsy of Black Tarantula revealed he had genetic mutations. I had one of the labs run it. It revealed he had been given a version of our lizard serum.”

“Well, it is good we found that before anyone else did,” Octavius smiles broadly. “Clearly we still need to work on the serum, but his strength, speed, and endurance were greatly enhanced.”

“Are you insane!?” Norman explodes. “Do you know what would have happened if someone would have traced it back to Oscorp? Everything I have worked for would be ruined. Right as I am so close to everything that I always wanted.”

Otto laughs with a titter, “Oh my good man. You know as well as I do your company means nothing to me. I have grander aspirations.”

“Yes, Otto, I know,” Norman regains his composure and folds his hands on his desk. Octavius looks at him sideways, and the corner of Osborn’s lips curl in a slight smirk, “Did you really think I’d let one of AIM’s top scientists into my organization and not know it? Otto, who do you think allowed you your free reign? I had you here and used you until you became a problem. You’ve done wonders here. The Lizard Serum will lead to super soldiers on demand once we finish it. You’ll never get the credit or the recognition, but know that you will have helped the world protect itself against the superhuman scourge.”

Octavius, beginning to lose his temper, seethes, “You think AIM will allow this? We were keeping you afloat, Osborn. I was keeping you afloat.”

“Don’t be so vain, Otto,” Norman rolls his eyes. “The sharks have been circling this company for years. And I have always survived. Besides, I’m not firing you from just Oscorp. I’ve been authorized to inform you that AIM no longer requires your service.”

“What!?” Octavius stands, slamming his palms onto the desk. “I am their brightest mind! I am the one that will lead them into the world we desire! They will be lost without me!”

“Please, Octavius,” Norman turns to look out of his penthouse office, “don’t make a scene. You align yourself with common criminals. You send your hussy to try and liaise with the police. You lie to Miles Warren and tell him AIM brass has approved his project for testing and create the so-called ‘Sandman’ from a common thug. And all for what? To test Spider-Woman? To capture her?”

“Yes!” Octavius exclaims. “She was created here, Norman. You know that. I know that. The adaptive spiders. One of them somehow transferred their adaptive capabilities to a human! That is incredible! She’s the key to making the Lizard serum work. I’m sure of it. But I had to make sure her mutation wasn’t progressive like the lizard serum has been so far. Testing her was the only way to be sure.”

“Yet you test her by seeding chaos in this city,” Osborn stands and walks over to the windows. “You risk bringing attention to AIM.”

“For the greater good!”

“No, Otto. For your greater good,” Norman looks over his shoulder at the other man. “I know you have a personal angle to get this project to work. But that is no excuse. Neither of our organizations can abide by your recklessness. You, and everyone in your personal fiefdom, are gone.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Otto growls.

“Maybe. If you live long enough.”

Security surrounds Octavius, and he’s dragged out of the office.

Norman, meanwhile, ponders the other scientist’s words. Spider-Woman being the key to unlock the Lizard Serum’s potential made sense. Osborn has wondered if she would end up being involved in all this. Catching her wouldn’t be easy.

But he had plenty of ways to try.

**********

“Ladies and gentlemen. Good people of New York, how long are we going to have to put up with this?” J Jonah Jameson sounds tired and fed up, not his normal uber aggressive self. “First, Spider-Woman starts infecting this city with her super powered antics. Then her blatant disregard for the law draws out more freaks and criminals like her. First the Firefly. Then the Black Tarantula and the Sandman. And now a giant woman and a silver-skinned wackjob! But we will put an end to this now!”

Old Jonah’s really been giving it to me the past few weeks. I can’t blame him, either. Well, at least I can’t blame him from his position. The collateral damage that Giganta and the Silver Surfer have wrought is nothing short of catastrophic. Dozens of people died, mostly on the Raft, and the damage will still cripple parts of the city for months.

Jonah isn’t the only one asking questions about the role I play in the city, either. Politicians have been roused. A challenge to the mayor, who has surprisingly been on my side, is forming in the shadows, if my Dad’s sources are right.

Dad isn’t safe from the whispers either.

“One man had the chance to stop all this in its tracks!” Jameson gets fired up again. “Captain George Stacy, one of the men who has sworn to protect this fair city, was alone with Spider-Woman and the Black Tarantula on the roof of Manhattan General that night. He killed one of them. But why not the other? Was he duped, like so many other people? Did she trick him into thinking she is here to help? Or does he just not have the guts to do what needs to be done?”

The constant criticism has taken a toll on him. He’s considered resigning from his post, but stays in order to help me in my crusade. It weighs on him, as it does on me. I hate that he’s now wrapped up in all this. I hate that I’ve caused him this much stress.

But at the same time, I love how supportive he’s been with me. He’s fed me intel left and right on the new gangs attempting to fill the massive new power vacuums across the city. He lets me know any time Sandman appears, even if I haven’t been able to stop the villain yet.

But a reckoning is coming. I can feel it.

**********

Mac Gargan’s eyes open for the first time in weeks. A blurry, orange glow clouds his vision as his eyes attempt to acclimate to his surroundings. He doesn’t remember where he is. The last time he was aware of what was going on, he was being led out of Stryker’s Island prison by AIM shock troopers.

AIM...that’s where he is. They brought him here. Told him that they would give him the ability to take on Spider-Woman.

That is all he wants. Spider-Woman is the first person to ever stop the Enforcers. Not only that, she is the first person to embarrass them. She made them look like a bunch of amateurs, and because of that Harkness and Delilah left them. Neither wanted to be part of whatever experiments AIM had in mind.

Gargan is ready for anything however.

At least he thinks he is.

His eyes begin to acclimate, and he finds that the orange glow isn’t a light or something else floating in front of his eyes. It seems to be his eyes. Suddenly, computer script appears in his line of vision, running some sort of diagnostic. Behind the text, he sees he’s in some sort of operating room, and people on the other side of thick glass watch him and jot down notes on clipboards.

“Hey what is this?” he says, his voice coming out horse, his vocal cords straining under disuse.

“Can you move, Mr. Gargan?” a voice asks through a speaker. “Please take a few steps forward.”

He usually doesn’t like to take orders, even Harkness knew to be more cagey than to order outright. But this time he doesn’t think there’s any choice. He puts his foot forward.

But what slams onto the cold, clinical floor is not what he expected. A large, green talon clad in gleaming green metal scrapes against the floor, shocking Gargan. He stumbles back, finding his second leg covered in the same armor. But not just his legs. The green, cold metal covers his entire body, with what looks like carbon fiber panels between it. He looks at his hands, armored and clawed.

The shock runs through him, but a tingle in the back of his mind draws his attention. He turns to see a tail looming over him. He panics, feels the same tingle in his mind, and sees the tail sway in response.

“What the hell did you do to me!?” he shrieks at the men behind the glass.

“We’ve given you what you want Mister Gargan. The ability to kill Spider-Woman.”

Over his deep breaths, Mac can also hear Aleksi’s screams.

**********

“Any idea what this is all about?” I ask as Peter and I walk hand-in-hand towards Central Park on a beautiful, early-Autumn day. The sun shines bright in the blue sky, and just the faintest chill runs through the air. While my life in Spider-Woman may be getting harder and harder, it is still nice that she can have moments like this with Pete.

“No clue,” Pete shrugs. “Harry just sounded really excited on the phone. You know it takes something really big for him to show any kind of interest in anything. So I figured we could come.”

“I mean I can think of worse ways to spend my Saturday,”[color=ec008c][/color] I smile at him and put my head on his shoulder.

As we approach Columbus Circle, still half-wrecked from my fight with Giganta, we find a huge crowd gathered in front of the construction zone. A stage is set up, and I can see Norman standing in front of a podium, with a few other men sitting behind him. On each side of the stage are large, rectangular figures draped in black cloth.

When we get closer, Harry and MJ burst from the crowd, Harry leading her by the hand. He looks like he won a million bucks. Well, maybe in his case a billion. Smile from ear-to-ear on that awkward face that only now has started to fill in. Behind him, MJ is trying her best to humor his puppy dog enthusiasm.

“Yes!” he claps Peter on the shoulder. “I knew you guys would come! You’re not going to be disappointed. Dad’s new project is finally going to see the light of day.”

“He’s very excited,” MJ smiles and plants a kiss on Harry’s cheek. “Unfortunately it comes with politics.”

Me and Pete share a glance as we head to the front of the crowd. When we get there, my heart skips a beat when I see who is sitting with Norman. While it’s a face I haven’t seen in a long time, the flash of red hair that sits on his head, parted perfectly and neat is unmistakable. His smile is perfectly white and wide like a shark. His features are sharp. His blue suit pressed perfectly like the politician he always has been.

“Is that-” Peter starts.

“Calvin Cassidy,” I confirm.

Cassidy used to be a cop rising quickly through the ranks. Every position he achieved he excelled in. The thought was he was destined to be the commissioner of the NYPD some day. Instead, Dad found out he was fudging his arrest numbers, and had a mean streak to boot. It was believed he would threaten confessions out of suspects, and there were whispers of excessive force being the norm in his precincts. Rather than bring the problems to light, the NYPD swept it under the rug and Cassidy started a political career.

None of this is good.

Norman stands to speak, and polite applause rolls through the crowd. He raises his hands, smiling to the crowd, “Thank you. Thank you. For those that don’t know me, my name is Norman Osborn. Some of you may have seen my name on a building or two.”

A wave of laughter makes Old Man Osborn smile, “But we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about what’s happened in our great city. In the past year we’ve seen New York descend into a chaos the likes we have never seen. Super powered vigilantes have taken the law into their own hands, and have drawn dangerous criminals to challenge them, putting every citizen in the city in danger. We are now standing in a memorial to such chaos. A hideous scar running down the face of our beautiful Big Apple. Fixing it will cost billions. It will take months. The way the city works, possibly years.”

Another small ripple of laughter, “But maybe it doesn’t have to.”

Osborn picks up a small remote off the podium and presses a button. I look around for a few moments, before a slight twinge in my Spider Sense goes off, and the sound of an approaching whir begins to fill my ears. Suddenly, two figures zoom over the crowd and come to a stop six feet above Norman’s head. Their green, metal bodies shing in the sun, and the silver gliders they stand on do the same. They look like robots from Power Rangers, except for their heads, that look like metal versions of the Gremlins.

“Allow me to introduce you to Oscorps newest product line,” Norman raises his arms like a ringleader in a circus, “the Goblin Autonomous Robot. These top of the line machines will be able to rebuild any damage from super powered battles in a matter of weeks, working day and night using proprietary solar charging and battery backups. They have the strength of ten men, and do not tire. I’m here to tell the world that these will be available, worldwide, next month. Municipalities, governments, and militaries will be able to rebuild the world superhumans destroy.”

Another, larger round of applause explodes through the crowd, and I can see Harry beaming. I, on the other hand, wonder what the other shoe about to drop is.

“But these are not merely tools for construction.”

Here we go.

Another press of the button, and energy claws extend from the hands of the Goblins, and they drop into an attack stance on the gliders.

“They’re militarized?” I shoot Harry a dirty look, but even I can see Harry is surprised at the move. He didn’t know. Of course Norman wouldn’t tell him about this.

“Not only can the Goblins be deployed to repair damage cause by superheroes and those they fight,” Norman’s smile takes on a more sinister look in the light, “they can also stop it before it happens. I would like to see any superhero escape a squadron of these.”

The largest roar of approval comes from the crowd, and I can already tell I have anger painted across my face. Norman is coming after me now. There’s no reason to pretend otherwise. Spider-Woman is now on Norman Osborn’s hitlist. And that is not a good place to be.

“Unfortunately,” Norman presses the button on the remote again, and the robots go back to ease, “I’ve been told both the mayor and the commissioner have decided that these cannot be deployed into the city, even though I’ve offered to supply the city their own squadron for free. They have decided that the NYPD is enough to take care of Spider-Woman and the rest of the super powered menace. Now, I have all the respect in the world for our boys in blue, but not having these in their arsenal puts our officers in harm’s way directly. Yet our current mayor and his police commissioner won’t support the men and women on the front line.”

Boos rise up from the assembly, “But I have good news on that front. We have an election coming up. Which means we have the opportunity to elect someone who cares about the people of New York, and not about what the so-called super heroes do. Someone who isn’t afraid to stick up for our first responders. Someone like my friend, Councilman Calvin Cassidy!”

The politician rises to thunderous applause, waving and still wearing that smarmy, Chesire-sized smile. He vigorously shakes hands with Norman and poses for the cameras situated right in front of me and my friends. As the shutters snap, the coverings on the rectangles fall off, revealing “Cassidy for Mayor” banners.

He smooths his fiery hair back and takes the podium, “Thank you, Norman. People of New York, I’ll keep this short and sweet. For too long the people running this city have not had what’s best for the people who live here in mind when making decisions. They’ve allowed super powered individuals free reign. They’ve allowed the federal government to put an island of the most dangerous people on the planet right on our doorstep. And see what it’s done to our fair city! But no more! If you elect me mayor, we will take back our city. We will make it safe for normal people to live, work, and play! It’s time to take our city back from the superhumans, and tell them we’ve had enough!”

As the crowd roars, Pete squeezes my hand.

**********

He tries to run, but he doesn’t get far. A webline snags him by the ankle, and I yank him off the ground. He flails wildly as he hangs upside down, yelling for help that isn’t going to come. I already have the other guys in his crew webbed up hanging from a light pole a few blocks back. They’re new players in town running drugs.

But not just any kind of drugs. These are high quality opioids that give people a high for days. Normally, that would also probably mean they’re as deadly as they come, but so far no one has ODed from them yet. That’s incredible, but it would also take a genius to come up with something this potent and this safe. With the right application they could save lives. But instead, they’re being pushed on the street, and they’re creating even more addicts in the city.

I’m going to find out where they’re coming from.

“So you’re a bit hung up there, huh?” I ask him, spinning him slowly on the web. “Your friends aren’t coming by the way. But your night could get a whole lot better if you just tell me who you work for.”

“Get bent, Spider!” he yells back. “I’m no snitch.”

I shake my head in surprise, “Okay, first off…’Get bent’? Really? How old are you. Secondly, I just fought a god a week or so ago. Do you *really* want to test me right now?”

He looks from side to side, before sighing, “I don’t know his name. We just get the shipments from the girl, then we give her the money when they’re sold.”

“Girl?” my eyebrows raise. “Got a name on her?”

“No,” he shakes her head. “Calls herself the Cat. Has white hair and has everything in the right place. Super hot.”

An audible sound of disgust comes out of me, “Okay. Does she call the supplier anything?”

“Yea,” he nods.

“She calls him the Octopus.”

[Master Bruce]

_{A Master Bruce/AndyC Joint}

Perched on a rooftop, however, looking down at me, is my former enemy from earlier tonight, the Batman. Lord knows how he was able to find me, but I feel like I should probably say something to him before I meet up with Lois and go home.

I don't push off into the air so much as I begin to drift, like a balloon, before touching down on the rooftop in front of him. His mask has come off, and I swear, I must still not be all there yet.....because I swear, he looks for all the world like Bruce Wayne.

"I, erm, I know we've still got plenty of differences to work out," I say, still in something of a daze, "but I gotta tell ya, I don't think I've got it in me to go another twelve rounds. Is there anywhere around here where we can grab a cup of coffee and just talk things over?"

@AndyC

The rain and wind come down hard as we stand in the dark, awkwardly unable to really put the experience we just shared into words. I'm not even sure that I should be standing near Superman, given the undoubtedly high level of radioactivity that he was just exposed to. But then, given that it took over an hour to locate him in the first place, wandering in a daze across the coast in a traumatized state, I would think that the radiation died down to a low enough point to put me in the clear. Were it not for those spikes in the atmosphere, I likely wouldn't have found him to begin with, and even those were starting to fade thirty minutes prior. Following a period of silence, as he stares off into space - perhaps figuratively, perhaps literally - I turn around and indicate a district of Gotham that's usually a dead spot this time of night.

"First thing's first. We could both use a change of clothes. I wouldn't want to walk into a public area dressed like this, and you... look like complete hell."

It may be best to keep this discussion to a place as far away from others as possible. There's sensitive information that both of us now share - notably, I don't fully believe that he's oblivious to Bruce Wayne's status as a public figure. Approaching him without a spare cowl may not have been one of my brightest moments, but there wasn't time to deviate from the search whenever a blip popped up on my scanner and revealed that there may have been hope all along. I felt that I owed Lane and Dr. Irons that, at least, before going back there.

"There's a diner on Loeb Street. A real hole in the wall type of place, discreet enough for us to say whatever needs to be said without caution.", I explain. "Twenty minutes. Or you're buying."

Firing a grapple line, I take another look at him. He seems flustered from the impact of the blast. Not quite his usual self. Almost in a euphoric state, possibly suffering from hallucinations and other side-effects brought on by the radioactivity. I shake my head, bringing the line back and securing it.

"Maybe give it thirty, in your case. Wouldn't hurt to shake that off."

Gotham City, The Narrows
Pauli's Diner
3:00 AM
30 Minutes Later

"So..."

I place my hands together and stare down at the increasingly cold mug of black coffee, having changed attire and bandaged the minimal wounds I received just earlier. He had already been here, having reserved a corner booth that was out of the way of prying eyes and intrigued ears. And he was eating, having told the waitress that I would be picking up the tab. To say that it was a well done comeuppance for my earlier comment would be giving it too little credit. I try to avoid eye contact as he continues to stuff his face full of breakfast items, carefree and nonchalantly trading one plate of food for another, having apparently developed the metabolism of a child since being caught in the blast. He explained that his cells drink in energy like a sponge. I wouldn't know the feeling, since I've never had to deal with something... like that.

"Had you ever, erm. Tested being hit by an atomic bomb? Or was that new to you?"

Clark pauses mid-bite of a fork full of scrambled eggs, giving me a slight head-tilt. Giving off an expression that suggests me asking the question is the craziest part of all this.

"...How exactly would I practice something like that?"

I narrow my eyes, looking up at him.

"I'm not exactly sure. But then, I don't really know how it would've been possible for you to test most of your abilities without being caught. We live in the era of satellite imaging. Surely, you can't be that fast..."

He gives me a look that both answers the question and terrifies me to my core.

"You're that fast."

Clark shrugs, digging back into his breakfast.

"Well, I don't know if I'm that fast. But yeah, pretty fast. It helps that I can see the satellite signals and just kind of, y'know, fly around them."

Raising an eyebrow once again, I lean forward, hanging on that last part particularly.

"You can see the..."

Sitting up straight again, I remain silent for a moment. The amount of things that he must experience on a daily basis. The level of sensitivity to his senses. It's too much for me to even imagine, let alone process as fact.

"How in the hell do you get a moment's peace?"

_{"Oh my god, there you are..."}

Both sets of eyes widen as Clark and I look back, seeing the unmistakable form of Lois Lane approaching, her hair still wet from the evening rain and the front entrance to the diner having just shut from her entering. I briefly panic, unsure of what to do, but she reaches us before I have much of a choice in the matter. Clark looks back at me, then at her.

Apparently, my question was just answered.

He doesn't.

"What the hell is going here? I get carted off to some underground bunker, Perry's blowing up my phone because apparently there's some crazy supervillain breakout in New York, a freaking atom bomb goes off right next to the city, and I'm just trying to..."

She takes one look at me, realizes who I am, and is immediately slack-jawed.

"...oh holy shit you're Bruce Wayne."

There are a multitude of lies that I could feed her to dissuade suspicion. That Clark was interviewing me as apart of a story about the atom bomb's detonation, which seems unbelievable. That I'm secretly Batman's financier and not implicitly the man himself, which seems redundant. Or that this is all a dream, and that she's never so much as seen either The Batman or her boyfriend speaking to Bruce Wayne. Which seems impossible.

Instead, my hand reaches the front of my temple, massaging an oncoming headache. Lois Lane, one of the country's most prominent field reporters whose name still carries relevance in the medium of the newspaper. And she stumbled onto my true identity by accident.

Apparently, the reveal isn't that terribly shocking, as she looks to Clark and ushers him to scoot over. As she sits down, Lane gives him the once-over, aswell.

"You look like hell, Smallville."

"Thanks. I feel like hell."

There's a pause.

"I'm sorry, but... how she find us?"

I look to Clark, then to her.

"How did you find us?"

She shrugs.

"Your butler mentioned something about getting coffee, and this is the only place within ten miles that's open twenty-four hours. He's adorable, by the way."

Slowly, my face sinks into my open palm.

Of course that's how she found us.

"This just keeps getting better..."

Clark finishes chewing his next bit of food before apologetically pushing it aside, presumably so that he can focus on talking things out with her. I merely sit in stunned silence at the nonchalance of these two, as if we didn't just experience one of the worst near-catastrophes of the twenty-first century.

Gotham would've not only been obliterated off of the map, but the entire Eastern Coast might have been rendered uninhabitable. And they're both acting as though this is just a nice, quiet meal between friends. Perhaps it's a Metropolis thing...

"Sorry, Lo. I would've called, but...", he begins, at a loss. "Well, my phone got nuked."

Her expression turns from relatively unphased to something I can't even describe.

Surprise? Outrage? A bit of both?

"Wait... you were in that explosion?!"

I scan the rest of the diner to make sure nobody heard that. Thankfully, there's no one else here except for a short-order cook who can't hear over the fryers and a waitress who's still in the midst of taking what must be Clark's fourth order. Lane seems entirely unphased by this, more concerned with how he could've pulled off such a feat.

"So she didn't know you could survive that, either.", I observe. "That was bold. I'll give you that."

He looks at Lane and I, giving a collective shrug.

"I mean, I didn't even know I could survive that. But I had no choice. It was either that or let Toyman take out the entire city.", he explains. "Speaking of, how'd it go on your end of things?"

"Well."

At first trying to be careful of how I phrase this with Lane present, I eventually sigh to myself, realizing the futility of such a dance. I suppose I'll just have to live with the fact that both of these people, whom I've barely even met, now know that Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same man.

"I... actually outsourced someone who's something of a technological expert. We both systematically shut down Schott's A.I. piece-by-piece, and I destroyed what remained of his equipment. Whatever trace of The Toyman that existed on this or any other server should theoretically be gone."

"Hmm.", Lane replies, frowning as she glances over the menu. "'Should be' more often than not ends up meaning 'isn't'. But it sounds like the two of you pulled out a win for the day, at least."

I give Clark the side-eye.

"Actually, your boyfriend did the heavy lifting. Quite literally. But given that neither of us knew whether or not Schott could get the nuke far enough away from Gotham, I'd less say that we pulled out a win so much as we were granted one. We got lucky."

Raising his finger, as if to suggest a counter-point, I notice that he's already finished another plate of hash browns. In the blink of an eye, while Lane and I shared that exchange. I would question the flippant use of his abilities, but if I had the power to do that? I can't say that I wouldn't.

"Well, sometimes it's better to be lucky than good.", he counters, motioning for the waitress as she reaches our general vicinity. "'Scuse me. Can I get another helping, please? You wouldn't believe how hungry I am."

Correction. He's on his fifth plate, at this point.

"And a half-and-half coffee for me, thanks."

I look down at the bone-cold mug of coffee that I was given whenever we arrived. I guess I was so enthralled with asking about Superman's abilities, trying to weigh out the logistics in my head and continually coming up empty, that I hadn't even thought to touch it. Massaging the bridge of my nose, I reluctantly raise a hand as the waitress jots down Lois and Clark's addendums.

"And a refill on mine."

The waitress looks at me, writes it down, and then heads back to the kitchen whilst muttering something beneath her breath. Lane turns to the both of us, placing her hands together and leaning forward.

"So, the million-dollar question.", she begins. "What happens now? You two going to start networking, or is this more of a 'two ships passing in the night' sort of deal?"

Unsure of what she's suggesting, I give her a skeptical eye.

"I'm... not exactly in the market for a partner, if that's what you're asking. And I don't know if 'Clark', here, would be satisfied with tackling petty thieves and the mob. He seems more content with enemies that play on a much larger scale, and I'd like to distance myself from that as much as possible. No offense."

"None taken.", he replies. "But if I do happen to miss the odd mob boss or bank robber, I'm hoping I can trust you to pick up my slack. And I hope you wouldn't think I'm imposing the next time someone launches a missile at Gotham City."

I think back to the feelings of hopeless and despair that I experienced earlier tonight, when I was unsure of what would happen once the missile was launched. How close we came to the brink, how there was literally nothing any of us could do but hope for a miracle. A miracle that Superman eventually delivered us, despite never once knowing whether he'd survive. It wouldn't be wise of me to simply ignore that.

"Point.", I acknowledge. "I suppose we'll just agree to stick to what we're best at, and should our paths happen to cross again, we'll see what needs to be done. But I want to make one thing clear."

Leaning forward, I give them both a deathly serious glare. Barbara Gordon and I reconvened after I found Clark wandering across the Bay area, and she had a particularly surprising revelation to give me about a certain visitor from Metropolis that came to interview her father earlier in the day. The story being what happened in The Narrows, and how The Batman was as much a danger to Gotham as the criminals he fought.

"I have it on good authority that you were sent here to write a story about me. You came here believing that I'm a threat to the city, and I'll admit, I've done a poor job of proving otherwise.", I begin, choosing my words carefully. "But I do what I do because there's no other choice. I've tried to look the other way and I've tried to make changes, financially. It doesn't work that way when your hands are tied by the mob. So if my methods seem... extreme, that's because they have to be."

Clark lowers his glasses, somewhat, and gives me a skeptical look of his own. Even folds his arms across his chest, as if to intimidate me. Clearly, that isn't going to fly as well as I would have hoped.

"I don't agree with the methods.", he replies, frankly. "And If I find out you've really gone over the edge, trust me when I say that I'll shut it down. Lord knows we don't need another Punisher on our hands. But if the goal is to help the people who need it, then maybe I can find the odd reason to look the other way."

Lane places a hand on his, showing her support. Neither of them seem to be particularly big fans of the lonesome vigilante who stalks criminals at night and breaks their bones. I can't promise them that I'm going to stop anytime soon, but perhaps I can dissuade their fears in allowing me to remain active. After all, they're both capable of it. Him with his abilities, her with what she knows. They could put an end to the only life that I know in an instant.

At least, they could have. Oracle managed to mention something else whenever she told me about the Metropolis reporter's interview with Captain Gordon. A distinct detail that seemed rather insignificant without the missing piece of the puzzle: his name.

"It's not as if either of us are operating under the strictest sense of the law... Kent."

At first, he seems to be unaffected by this revelation. But his poker face is lousier than Lane's, who seems to be at least somewhat stern in her posture. I can see the paranoia in his eyes. It didn't take much to cross reference what Barbara told me with what I already knew to confirm the suspicions, but it seemed hardly necessary. The truth was obvious the minute that she told me a man named Clark conducted the interview. Specifically, Clark Joseph Kent, a relatively recent addition to the staff of The Daily Planet. Originally from Smallville, Kansas. Adopted by Jonathan and Martha Kent.

Even a sliver of that information could easily reach the internet within seconds, were I to choose to make it known. There would be some doubt, surely, and most would shrug it off as rumor. After all, before Lane even spoke his name in the park in an effort to reach his rationality, I hadn't even considered that Superman would require the need for a double life. But there would be suspicion cast upon him. People wouldn't be able to get it out of their heads. And that alone would undo Superman as easily as exposing me would undo Batman.

"And there's plenty of paranoia still to be had about a man who can see satellite signals and withstand nuclear blasts, no matter the content of his character.", I continue. "But if it helps ease your conscience, I'll say this. I've never believed in killing. Breaking bones, I have no qualms with. Injuring and hurting those that deserve it. But I made a very important vow, a long time ago, to never take another person's life. I've seen too much death in this city as it is to ever be a contributing factor."

There's a tense moment between the three of us, before Kent solemnly nods.

"That's good to know.", he says, standing to take the newly arrived plate of food as it's handed to him. "Just make sure that limitation doesn't become an excuse. Doing bad things to bad people isn't the same as doing good."

I take a look at the reflection of myself as I'm handed the fresh cup of coffee.

With all that's happened lately, I could stand to take that to heart.

There've been too many close calls. Too many mistakes I've made.

Someone's bound to get killed if I don't start to better approach this.

"Duly noted."

Taking a sip of the coffee, I attempt to switch topics as quickly as possible. While I don't know whether or not that appeal truly convinced either of them, I have to admit, there are a few more pressing matters to speak of than the preservation of my privacy.

"But regardless. I don't think I'm the billionaire that you have to worry about in the immediate future.", I reply, a hint of bitterness in my voice. "I heard Toyman's mention of Lex Luthor. And you seemed equally as surprised to hear about his involvement. So I assume that if he's out there, contributing to campaigns like Schott's or something equally as nefarious, you'll be keeping an eye on him?"

Kent's form goes from uncertainty to tense at the mere mention of Luthor's name. Even if he didn't know that Lex was apart of Toyman's scheme, it's clear that there's some animosity to be felt there. Perhaps he suspected, but never had any reason to prove anything. Looking past me, I can almost feel the rage building off of him as he thinks of Luthor's role in this.

"Oh, I plan on having a few words with Luthor as soon as I get back to Metropolis."

"Oh no, you're not.", Lane interjects. "You've wound up unconscious and nearly dying at the bottom of the ocean twice today, and if Luthor's really up to something, you're going to need to be at a hundred percent. So you're taking tomorrow off to recuperate."

He seems surprised by this objection. Then again, Lane did seem to confirm to him that they were an item earlier tonight with that kiss, so I would assume that alot of things are about to change in their dynamic. I simply take a quiet sip of my coffee as they continue, unsure of when to re-enter the conversation. Or rather, if I even should.

"Lo, I really don't--"

"Not hearing it, Kent," she objects, cutting him off. "And to make sure you're not going to go do something stupid while you're healing up, you're staying at my place so that I can keep an eye on you."

He gives her a bewildered expression.

"...I mean, I could crash on the couch, or..."

She narrows her eyes, folding her arms in turn. The insinuation isn't so much made clear as it's mapped out as a mission statement. Kent takes a surprisingly long time to catch on, but when he does, I can swear that I see his cheeks briefly turn a shade of red.

"Oh, I, erm... oh!"

And this is supposed to be the most powerful man on the planet.

Unbelievable.

"Well, it's good to know that there's someone to keep you in check, at least."

The two look at me, seemingly having forgotten that I was here altogether, and awkwardly look away. Kent eventually grins, sheepishly.

"Well, you know what they say. Behind every powerful man and all that..."

"Mm! This coffee's fantastic, by the way.", Lane interrupts, clearly trying to play off her embarrassment. "You should actually drink some of your's instead of just scowling at it."

There's a particular tone of voice in there that she hits. One familiar to me, in regards to my once weekly conversations with Selina Kyle. The tone that says that I've interrupted a woman when I shouldn't have, and there'll be hell to pay if I don't do exactly as they say in that moment. In response, I look down at the cup, after giving her another look, and take a proper drink.

Surprisingly, she's right.

This is the best cup of coffee I've had in years.

"I should come here more often..."

Kent seems to read more into that than I did, raising an eyebrow.

"That's honestly not a bad idea. I mean, we've both got our own agendas and methods, but it might not hurt to meet up from time to time and compare notes. Or at the very least, keep the lines of communication open so we don't have another instance of... well, what happened earlier tonight."

I take another drink, glancing back towards him.

"You mean when you tried to kill me? I agree. We should avoid that."

But as much as I hate to admit it, the idea isn't completely without merit. There's nothing to suggest that we have to be partners, or even allies. But there are certain advantages that we could gleam from this chance encounter that could actually be fairly positive, not to mention advantageous, for both of us.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. My interest lies squarely with Gotham, but Metropolis has it's share of ganglords aswell. Should only be a matter of time before I uncover a connection between them and Falcone. And given your respective lines of work, I could see the benefit of having someone who sneaks into dark corners on your side."

"And, not to state the obvious.", Lois adds. "But I have to imagine being able to call on a guy who can juggle tanks and shrug off artillery would come in handy if the mob in Gotham starts bringing in big guns of their own."

Kent immediately looks up from having stuffed his face with another helping of hash browns.

"I actually can't juggle tanks."

"I've seen you lift a skyscraper."

"Lift, sure, but I can't actually juggle. Never could get the timing down."

I blink once, staring blankly at both of them.

They can't... actually be serious about that. About him lifting a skyscraper.

Can they?

Wordlessly, I take another drink of coffee, suddenly wishing there were vodka mixed in.

"I suppose... yes, I could stand to use some help with the number of metahumans rising out of the shadows. I'm ill-equipped to deal with them at the moment, whereas you can do... all of that.", I surmise. "But before we agree on anything, I think both of us need to establish an assurance of something. You both know my secret, and I know Kent's. So it goes without saying that if I see much of anything in regards to what you've learned in The Daily Planet..."

Lane doesn't so much as flinch at that, taking a sip of her drink.

"No offense, Mr. Wayne. But I've been threatened by professionals."

Noticing my hesitation, however, she elaborates.

"Don't worry, though. I think between a rogue artificial intelligence turned cyber-terrorist hijacking a nuclear warhead and whatever insanity happened at the Raft, 'rich guy dresses up and gets in fights' isn't going to sell too many papers."

I don't know whether that makes me feel better or worse.

But I'll take it, as I suppose there's no real way of gaining any further leverage.

"As long as it stays that way.", I reply, before turning to Kent. "And I've no reason to expose you. Especially in light of what you did in service of Gotham. So consider my silence given as gratitude. You saved millions of lives, including mine."

"Don't sell yourself short,", Kent quickly counters. "Toyman would have gotten away if you hadn't shut him down for good. Which means you saved quite a few lives yourself, in the long run."

He looks at me with a sense of his own gratitude. Without giving myself too much credit, I have to admit, I can't imagine how the night would've gone if we hadn't been forced to work together.

"Then I guess that makes us even."

Motioning for the check, I finally find myself able to relax after the insanity of the evening.

"I suppose there's nothing left for me to do, then, than pick up the tab."

Lane seems to put on a look of worry, all of the sudden, glancing over at the stacked plates sitting to the right of Kent.

"Oh, I don't know.", she says. "Clark, here, ate a hell of alot of food. It wouldn't be right for you to take care of it all. How would you, even?"

Pulling out my phone, I smirk to myself as I begin typing a message for them to read, not to be seen by anyone else.

"Simply put, Miss Lane..."

I place the phone on the table and slide it over to them. Lane looks down at the message, as does Kent. They both look back at me and smirk, themselves.

The message being...

Because I'm Batman.

[Sep]

---

---

EPILOGUE

^{THE END
Music}

---

---

“You were in contact with the Speedforce, I’m sure of it.” Iris waved her hand in Jays direction, dismissing his comment, as they sat across from each other in the small rundown office space he was renting as their ‘HQ’. Despite the return of Harrison Wells to Central City, and the fact Jay had lost his powers when Zoom had ripped the Speedforce from his body Iris found herself more comfortable around Jay, found his input more helpful. Whereas Wells focused on how her powers could be used to ‘One day bring a better quality of life to mankind’ Jay helped her for the here and now, how to use her abilities to save people. He was also far more pleasant company than Wells was.

“Yeah right, okay Jay.” Iris stretched, her ribs still stiff from the week before. The fight with Heatwave, then the subsequent fight with the Surfer. It hadn’t exactly been a good couple of months for her, despite her best efforts CCTV footage had finally made its way into the press revealing the identity of Henry Allen, the fact he was killed by Barry and their subsequent death. Ofcourse the footage didn’t include audio so thankfully her secret was safe, but her editor had put her on a leave of absence to get through the difficult times. Iris had insisted that work was the best thing for her. Sadly he didn’t agree. It had given her more time to work on her superheroing though, turns out she had the ability to cram her short term memory full of information for a short period of time. This meant that she had singlehandedly repaired the damage done by Heatwave during his little rampage. She had considered going to New York city to do the same, but Iris couldn’t clean up after everyone and the situation in New York wasn’t exactly stable.

“I was spoken to, by a force of nature. The very force that grants me my speed, that happened to take the form of you, albeit a version of you that didn’t like to speak a lot of sense.”

“You don’t believe in the Speedforce do you?” Iris groaned in frustration as she stood up. She was fed up of having this discussion, he was determined to make her believe that the Universe had some great scheme in mind for her.

“I know I get my power from somewhere, do I believe that the somewhere has a consciousness and can say that it chose me? No.” Iris raised her hand to stop him from talking as he went to begin again. “Listen. I’m the Flash, I’m the Fastest Woman alive, not that any man comes close. It doesn’t matter how I gained my powers anymore, what matters is that I bear the mantle. A mantle you created, and a legacy I intend to live up to.” A smile crossed Jays face. “What?”

“I just know that you’ve been plagued by self doubts for so long. It’s nice to here you finally accepting who you are.” Iris shrugged as she walked over to the closet that held her uniform, it hung on a mannequin that had been in the space when they first rented it out for some reason. Jay had wanted to throw it out, but there were uses for it. There was something she liked about flicking on a light and seeing her suit lit up. It was like something out of movie, or perhaps a TV show.

Turning back she looked at Jay. “It helps to know that you once had similar doubts, and that you don’t speak like the hallucination I had.” She disappeared in a blur as she put her outfit on, she didn’t need to worry about changing in front of someone else, not anymore when all they would see was a blur. Iris stood before Jay in her full costume, the burn marks repaired. The suit red and yellow, it still retained many of the design elements that Barry had put onto the first suit. She felt that Barry wanted to keep some sense of familiarity to the suit, while the cowl was replaced for the mask and she now wore an emblem.

While the memories of the other timeline were fading, she knew that the emblem was that of the Flash of other worlds. A symbol of hope to the people of Central City and beyond. There was no hope in hell, that she was going to let that legacy down. She cast a playful smirk in Jays direction. “I’ll be back in a Flash.”

Iris turned and sped out the door, letting the air flow past her as the energy crackled through her limbs. It may be that Eobard Thawne had been the one to give her these powers, intending them for Barry. It may be that in some future, some life she had not been struck by lightning. Despite all this, there was one thing she knew above all else. Iris West was, THE FLASH!

---

⚡ ⚡ ⚡

---

Guards tended to be on edge when transporting an individual who had single handedly burnt through several blocks of a city. With the Raft out of commission, and no sign that Mick Rory - who called himself Heatwave, retained his powers it had been decided that he would be interned at Iron Heights. One of the most secure Prisons in the United States, one that was rapidly trying to come up with technology to contain metahumans. Mick grunted as the van came to a sudden stop, finding himself buffeted against the wall of the van. He rattled his chains against the wall. “Hey! Watch it, you clowns!”

He heard the doors of the drivers cabin open, followed by muffled shouting and screaming. He was hit by a blast of cool air as the door was blown open. Raising his hands to cover his face from the light and possible attack. He felt the temperature drop as the chains around his wrist froze and became brittle. He looked at the figure in the doorway, blue jacket, white glasses and a smirk he recognised all too well who just nodded. Pulling his wrists apart the chain broke with relative ease. Walking to the door he reached out for the weapon that was being offered to him. “Good to see you Snart.”

Leonard Snart turned his head to his former friend and practically sneered. “You still owe me a favour Mick. Now it’s two.”

Before Rory could respond a police car pulled out, the two officers hopping out. Guns raised in their direction. Mick braced himself to jump for cover. That wasn’t Snarts style however, who simply jumped off the truck and started walking towards the police cruiser. “Stop right there!”

Snart shook his head. “That’s not the word.”

“Halt, stay where you are!.”

“Mm, not that one either.”

“Freeze!”

A smile crossed his face. “Exactly.”

THE FLASH WILL RETURN IN SEASON 2

R O G U E N A T I O N

[Supermaxx]

Season One: Epilogue

---

---

New York City, New York

The Surfer was beaten, his newly freed persona taken away by a strange woman with a mace. It was about par for the course with all of the other insanity that had gone on in the last six months, so all Jaime could really do was shrug his shoulders and try to move passed it. He had plenty of revelations to mull over while he spent the next four days in bed, that was for damn sure; the heaviest of them being the decree that Darkseid would return someday to finish what his herald could not. It was a sobering thought, knowing that the Silver Surfer that had nearly killed all of them was just the vanguard for something far greater and far more terrible.

'We will be ready.' The voice of the Scarab assured him, as steely and unwavering as ever. It gave Jaime a new resolve, knowing that Khaji Da believed they could prepare for Darkseid's arrival. Though life had certainly been difficult since the two were introduced, the alien had not once led him astray.

Before he knew it, everyone had started to go their own separate ways. The three spandex clad heroes that had rallied that misfit band into something resembling a real team were already off to go check on their fourth, wounded member. Spider-Woman swung away before Jaime could muster up the courage to so much as wave. Thor was still lingering, though given the hole in his chest, he'd be leaving soon- probably to find a hospital or something.

A hand fell on Reyes's shoulder, taking his attention away from the redheaded demigod. It was the Flash, looking a good deal less heroic than usual; she looked like she was about ready to collapse right then and there. Despite her sorry state, she was offering him help. Letting him know that he could count on her if he ever ended up in trouble. Jaime was glad he had the helmet on to hide the reddening of his cheeks. "Uh..y-yeah! Yeah. I'll do that. Thanks." He nodded fervently, even as she turned around and started to make her leave.

He still had what she told him earlier about getting a 'nom de guerre' in the back of his mind. Jaime didn't know for sure what it meant- it sounded like a type of souffle- but he believed he understood the gist of it. He needed a hero name. Something inspiring. Something heroic. Something that when you hear it, you can't help but feel like everything'll be okay.

A name like...

Like...

”You did good out there J- Er, ‘scuse me. I mean, uh, nice one, Blue Beetle?”

@DocTachyon

"Blue Beetle?" Reyes lifted a hand to his chin, mulling over it. He was certainly blue. And he had to admit, the armor was rather beetle like, the more he thought about it. "Blue Beetle..." It didn't sound nearly as iconic as Flash, but he didn't have any better ideas. Jaime shrugged. He had plenty of time to work on it."It'll do for now." He nodded.

Jaime jumped on the opportunity to get a ride back home from Vigilante. He couldn't exactly fly yet, and the armor didn't come with bus tokens as far as he knew, so he didn't have too many other options. " I'd appreciate that." He didn't mind the fact that it'd be a long ride. After everything that had happened, Jaime could do with some slowing down.

---

El Paso, Texas

The road was long and arduous, but Jaime was finally home again. It felt like an eternity had passed since he walked through those poorly paved streets, passed his neighbors of questionable character, and took in the scent of freshly baked bread and motor oil.

They used to call his neighborhood the Devil's Triangle back before Jaime was born. Gang violence, drug trafficking and prostitution plagued the streets back in the late seventies and eighties. His parents used to tell him stories about how they couldn't walk home after four o'clock without being followed by some scumbag in gang colors.

Things were much calmer these days. Jaime had yet to be accosted by anyone in all his years growing up there, and the city had even changed the name to the far less aggressive Angel's Triangle. Now instead of drugs and gangsters it was known for rampant poverty and terrible burgers. Still, part of him used to be nervous passing this particular corner, especially when the sun started to go down.

Used to be being the key phrase there; before he went and had a giant alien weapon fused to his arm.

Vigilante had offered to drive Jaime right home, but he'd declined, asking to be dropped off a ways away. He told Vig that he wanted to stretch his legs. It was a paper thin lie that Saunders probably saw right though, though thankfully he didn't press and did as Reyes requested. The truth of the matter was that Jaime had no idea what he was going to say. He'd been gone for so long- been through such an...impossible ordeal. How would his parents react if he told them the truth? Should he even tell them the truth? Trying to hide the fact that he had an alien in his skin sounded like a terrible idea that wouldn't last a month before he was found out. But if he just came out and told them, could they look at him the same way after everything he'd done?

He rounded the corner, his tiny, one story house coming into view. There were a dozen other homes that looked exactly the same around it, from the color of the roof right down to the ragged, rundown appearance of the walls. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest and his blood pressure spike all in the same instance.

"Ya gotta be kiddin' me." He muttered under his breath. "You fought the Surfer, Jaime. Get a grip. It's just your parents. They'll...they'll understand. They have to."

Right?

Reyes stepped onto the crack, gum-infested sidewalk, walking passed the chipped, bent chainlink fence that cordoned off the little section of houses he lived in from the rest of the Triangle. The faint sound of an off-tune beat carried on the blistering warmth of the wind. He felt his heart beating faster with every step he took, each potential scenario about what could happen playing through his head. It kept getting consecutively worse and more ridiculous. As he took that final step up onto his porch and reached for the doorknob, Jaime had gone so far deep that he was wondering if his parents had it in them to report him to SHIELD.

It was insanity, of course; they'd never do such a thing. Even in the absolute worst scenario, he couldn't feasibly imagine-

"...Thank you for your time, Mrs. Reyes, I appreciate it. Let us know if you hear anything." The gaunt faced man with slicked-back blonde hair had a voice like a ghoul and eyes that could pierce through steel. Jaime almost did recognize him at first, standing in the middle of Reyes's living room in a tacky Hawaiian shirt, sandals and cargo shorts. But that voice had been burned in his brain the moment he awoke in that interrogation room, strapped down to a chair and was told he had killed thirty people.

Agent Sitwell wrapped his skeletal fingers around his mom's hand, the corners of his mouth upturned in a twisted interpretation of warmth. There were two more agents in plain clothes huddled together not far from them, whispering about something that Jaime couldn't make out. He ignored them. His entire attention was absorbed on his own mother and the man that turned Reyes into a wanted criminal.

It felt like someone had driven a dagger through his heart.

He wanted to move. He wanted to do something- to run, to fight, to...speak...But he found himself incapable. His muscles locked up. His throat went dry. His mind was made blank. It felt like he had been robbed of any meaning and sense of balance as a sense of vertigo pounded against the inside of his head.

'Threat detected. Attack.' The Scarab howled within his mind. It knew well what had happened the last time they encountered Sitwell, and it refused to let Jaime endure that again. The chitin slipped forth over his hand like a second skin, morphing and changing as it took the on the heavy barrel of it's primary weapon and igniting it all in the same, fluid motion. The sleeve of his jacket exploded in a spray of torn material as the gun tried to lift itself.

That drew the attention of the extra agents, their hands going down to the handguns at their sides as they shouted at Reyes to freeze. He still hadn't made a conscious move. Sitwell himself spun around, the shock on his face matching the look that Jaime himself wore. They locked eyes for several seconds in a silent acknowledgement of everything that had happened since their last encounter. Sitwell knew what Jaime had done at the Raft. He knew that Jaime had helped save the world.

"Stand down!" He screamed, throwing a hand back at his partners. Neither of them obeyed; all they needed to see was the gargantuan weapon on Jaime's arm to justify shooting at a terrified and confused sixteen year old boy. Bullets tore through brittle stone, sending sprays of rock flying out over the grass alongside bits of hot metal. Reyes tripped over his own feet in his desperate bid to escape, no part of him wishing to fight anywhere near his mother- he wouldn't risk her getting hurt.

"God damn it! Put the gun away, Scarab-" Jaime shouted over the sound of gunfire, his armor slipping on over his torn clothing even as he sprinted out into the open once again. He was in full panic mode, the only thought in his mind to escape before SHIELD managed to pin him down. He still didn't have the proof he needed to absolve himself and the Scarab of guilt. He still needed to bring in Dr. Caulder. He needed more time.

The roar of an engine drew his gaze down the road, locking it on a white van that was speeding toward him. More agents. They had this entire block on lock down, no doubt; they'd have reinforcements pouring in with bigger, better firepower in no time flat. Reyes needed to find a way out of town, now...before it was too late.

The van's driver hit the horn and held down on it, even as he brought it up alongside Jaime before he even had a chance to consider where he might run to. He squared up to deal with the men inside, hands ready before his face when the side door slid open.

And his eyes locked with Paco Tejas. His broad shouldered friend had his hand held out, a desperate look plastered on his face. He was motioning for Jaime to take it, even as several rounds struck the inside of the cabin- getting frightfully close to Paco's head.

"GET IN!" Brenda Del Vecchio shouted from the driver's seat with all of the rage of a burning star.

Jaime hesitated for just a moment before he locked his fingers around Paco's, dragging himself into the vehicle. They slammed the car door behind them and Brenda hit the gas, shooting down the empty street like a bottle rocket on the Fourth of July.

"Esos idiotas están locos! Are they trying to kill us?!" The redhead snarled, pulling on the wheel to take a sharp turn that nearly sent the vehicle rolling. It lurched, two of the wheels briefly leaving the ground before slamming back to the concrete and shaking the entire metal frame.

Reyes climbed up to the front seat, forgoing his seat belt as he glanced between the two. "What the hell are you two doing? How are you- how are you even here?!"

"Dropped outta a portal by that wackjob in the cloak." Paco explained, popping up between the two front seats. "Same as you, right? With all the craziness in the sky-"

"Yeah, and the voice! What was up with that?"

"Not the time, morons!" Brenda snapped. She wrenched on the wheel again, shooting around a car that was driving twenty miles too slow for her as she was busy trying to escape an international spy organization that had just tried to murder the three of them. "Where the hell are we going? Anybody got any ideas?!"

Reyes furrowed his brow, searching through every location he could think of. Central City? The Flash did say he could rely on her....Maybe back to Warpath, with Saunders? The three of them would be safe in either of those places, for a time.

But that was the problem: only a for a time. SHIELD was going to keep chasing Jaime until they either caught him or he proved his innocence. But he couldn't do the latter until he found Dr. Caulder, and he didn't have a clue where that bastard was hiding-

But he did have a clue, didn't he?

"Metropolis. Make for Metropolis." Jaime finally said, his expression shifting once more. It hardened with resolve. He was done running. He had to find the other alien and find out what in the hell was actually going on.

Jaime Reyes- The Blue Beetle- was going to clear his name.

No matter what it took.

TO BE CONTINUED...